HAY IS STILL HARVESTED ON STANFORD CAMPUS

The following article was written for the Crimson by L. A. Appleton 2G.B., Stanford '30, who adds, "In fairness to Stanford, she is not all that has been written in the article submitted."

Stanford is blessed with a campus nearly a thousand acres in extent--originally the farm of Senator Stanford-- which allows ample room for the university's 3500 odd students to wander happily about. Hay fields must be crossed when one goes from one living hall to another, to The Quad, or to the library.

In the late spring of each year the hay crop is harvested, and all the hay piled in neat little stacks. At a given signal the freshman class rushes out and sets are to each and every little stack-- provided, of course, the campus cops lack the necessary strength or vigilance. Then, true to Stanford's symbol, the In- dian, all freshmen cavort merrily around the fires. In the end, the entire class faces an assessment, which is always paid without a murmur. It's just another tradition.

Stanford came into being as a result of an endowment by Senator Stanford. Some have maintained (and with some truth) that the endowment was made possible because of certain construction company profits made in the early days of the Central Pacific, when the Senator was associated with the C. Crocker Company, Collis P. Huntington, and Mark Hopkins the four evil geniuses of the undertaking.

All year around outdoor sports are a feature of Stanford, life. With an eighteen hole golf course, three outdoor swimming pools, acres of rolling foothills for the equestrian enthusiasts, and two lakes on the campus itself (the lakes reminiscent of Wellesley on spring evenings) many have difficulty in regularly attending classes.

Because of a peculiar stipulation made by Mrs. Stanford, the endowment contract states that there shall not at any time be more than 500 women enrolled in the University. Consequently, Stanford's campus social life is also peculiar.

Dates with the half dozen eligibles on the campus are necessarily at a premium, and when week-ends come around all manner of conveyances begin their thirty mile jaunt up the peninsula to San Francisco.

Campus dances are legion, and those who give them have to cope with the problem presented by the "roughs"--an ancient Stanford institution. "Roughs" are usually non-row or "hall" men who never shave, wear filthy corduroys and sweat-shirts, at least so goes the tradition.

The interesting side of it all is that the "roughs" must be admitted to all dances at eleven o'clock for refreshmens. Many have been the sorrows of house managers who have had to provide for this extra group out of an already depleted treasury.

The majority of Stanford students' activities take place on the campus. Even their musical life is brought to them, for each fall a Concert Series is given in the basketball pavilion--it sounds rather dreary, but it isn't to those who will suffer to hear Tibbet, Onegin, and Heiflz.

Even off campus social activities center at the Mark Hopkins Hotel on Nob Hill in San Francisco--such are the scruples and the loyalty of the sons of the Stanford Red