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It came all at once, a terrific, ear-*jarring crash of cheers that danced the glasses on the table tops and fluttered the big flags around the balconies. They had ceased the pounding chant of "Boola." The classes from '53 to '08 had flung the Brek-a-kek-kek, Ko-ax, Ko-ax from wall to wall, and the orchestra, away up under the roof, had dropped the horns and fiddles from sheer weariness. There was a moment of unexpected quiet.

Suddenly the electric lights died all over the grand ballroom. A search-*light sprayed its rays squarely on a drop curtain which pictured the old Brick Row as it was in the days when President Taft was a freshman. You could see the rail fence, even the initials cut along the boards—"W. H. T.," "O. T. B.," "A. T. H." Tall elms leaned toward the ancient buildings and spread their foliage over the dingy roofs.

The broad band of light moved up and down over the picture, hesitated, then fell squarely on President Taft as he sat with President Arthur Twining Hadley of the university and President James R. Sheffield of the Yale Club. The President's head was half turned toward the picture of the old Brick Row. He wasn't smiling.

The yell started, spread all over the room and gathered force as man after man opened the throttle of his lungs and turned on the full power that was in him and roared and thundered until the lights went out again. In the darkness presently the old Brick Row appeared and took form. Soft lights gleamed at the windows of the dormitories. The chapel bell tolled faintly. The cheerful voices of freshmen calling to freshmen were heard very faintly. A shout only less mighty than the salute to the President shook the big room and shortly passed to laughter.