From the archives brings you old news today. As time passes, the news we report on changes, as does the way we report on it. Conversely, we’ve been covering some of the same issues since 1872. While today we can write about the religious diversity on campus, things were more homogenous in 1922, when Presbyterian socials provided the perfect backdrop for the students of the Ladies’ College to mingle with the boys from across the Pond.
Sat. Oct. 14, 1922: vol. 49, issue 2.
And who dares to say that we of the White House lead a dull, drab and “humdrum” existence? Whosoever does, let him follow the L. C. line to the Presbyterian Social, held on the night of Friday the 6th of October. Yes, perhaps he might be forced to hold his hands over his ears, and wish that females had never been blessed with tongues, but let him notice how amply we made up for this when we arrived at the Presbyterian Hall! Let him notice also the dead and decorous silence in which we entered, the praiseworthy manner in which we refrained from too open glances in the direction of our “gentlemen friends,” and I am sure he will not judge us too harshly.
And now, having managed to get us all into the hall land in the act of removing our wraps, with many little pats in the region of the cranium and frantic clutches at powder puffs, we are going to leave the doubting person very much to himself, and devote ourselves to giving a full and adequate description of the evening’s entertainment, so kindly provided us by the Presbyterian ladies.
The boys and girls will now kindly proceed upstairs, where they will proceed unkindly to arrange themselves into opposing formations on opposite sides of the room, the boys ably defending themselves from any shy glances aimed their direction by members of the gentler sex. Fortunately Mr. Fisher now comes to the rescue, and by the ruse of matching cards, is able to draw the enemy camps together. The boys no longer resist the fusillade of the girls’ eyes, but bask happily in their full brilliance, very much engaged in the pleasant task of presenting themselves as lords of creation to their respective admirers.
It was at this happy stage of the proceedings that a game began to be played : sheets of paper were passed around on which were a list of questions, all to be answered by the name of some flower. The question being the name of what flower, the players spent the next half hour looking futilely into space, and at odd moments of inspiration, jotting down the results of these inward communings. The atmosphere became calm and peaceful again, however, when the papers had been removed from their recent owners, and became absolutely alive with joy waves when the most wonderful lunch in the world was served. Although the period directly following a hearty meal is conceded by most to be a poor time for the exercise of the vocal chords, songs were sung by one and all, and the party finally broke up with a few well chosen and delightfully rendered yells, the Cape Breton one featuring prominently among them.
We now ask the doubting one if anyone could possibly have spent a more enjoyable evening, and also take this opportunity of thanking those who made it possible.
