il which marked the Peace Conference at The Hague.

The Frolic was to be perpetrated at a Hotel famous for the number of
Electric Lights.

The Hour was to be 6:30, Sharp, so that by 6:45, four old Grads, with
variegated Belshazzars, were massed together in the Egyptian Room
trying to fix the Date upon which Doctor Milo Lobsquosset became
Emeritus Professor of Saracenic Phlobotomy.

Along about 7:30, a Sub-Committee wearing Satin Badges was sent
downstairs to round up some recent Alumni who were trying to get a
Running Start, and at 7:45 a second Detachment was sent out to find
the Rescue Party.

Finally at 8 o'clock the glad Throng moved into the Main Banquet Hall,
which was a snug Apartment about the size of the Mammoth Cave of
Kentucky, done in Gold and various shades of Pink, to approximate the
Chambermaid's Dream of Paradise. The style of Ornamentation was that
which precipitated the French Revolution.

Beside each Plate was a blond Decoction named in honor of the Martini
Rifle, which is guaranteed to kill at a Distance of 2,000 Yards. The
compounding had been done in a Churn early that morning and the
Temperature was that of the Room, in compliance with the Dictates of
Fashion.

Those who partook of the Hemlock were given Courage to battle with the
Oysters. These came in Sextettes, wearing a slight Ptomaine Pallor.
On the 20th Proximo they had said good-bye to their Friends in
Baltimore and for Hours they had been lying naked and choked with
thirst in their little Canoes and now they were to enter the great
Unknown, without pity from the Votaries of Pleasure.

Luckily the Consomme was not hot enough to scald the Thumbs of the
jovial Stevedores who had been brought in as Extras, so the Feast
proceeded merrily, many of the Participants devoting their spare
Moments to bobbing for Olives or pulling the Twine out of the Celery.

The Fish had a French Name, having been in the Cold Storage Bastile
for so long. Each Portion wore a heavy Suit of Armor, was surrounded
by Library Paste and served as a Tee for two Golf Balls billed as
Pommes de Terre.

It was a regular Ban-quet, so, there was not getting away from Filet
de Biff aux Champignons. It was brought on merely to show what an
American Cook with a Lumber-Camp Training could do to a plain slice of
Steer after reading a Book written by a Chef.

Next, in accordance with honored Traditions, a half-melted Snowball
impregnated with Eau de Quinine.

Just a