"Shoot ne hat" with Junior plugs.

tive honors It is rather an awesome thing to contemplate that line of bronze, creeping the slow pilgrimage of years toward yonder corner arch, seemingly so close at hand. Counting the red mosaic squares in the paving, to mark the flight of years is no difficult task. It is only a matter of seconds to walk to the first turning of the quadrangle; yet before the class plates have reached the spot so near at hand, such of us as are still surviving

Photo by A. & A., Berkeley.

with the dust of centuries.

Before the circle of the plat s is made the earlier ones will be subject to much wear from the hundreds of feet passing over them hourly. This has been partly provided against by the manufacturers, who have made the plates of an espe

cially durable gun metal. This will not, however, entirely obviate the wearing

away of the surfaces, and I should not be at all surprised if in some future time it will be found necessary to sink the older memorials below the surface and prowith a

tect them

thick layer of glass.

Aside from the two

ceremonies

above

Stanford was put on her mettle. The Friday night before the fateful-and as it proved fatal-game, the baseball enthusiasts congregated on the campus and decided that the college was suffering from the baneful influence or a "hoodoo," and that something would have to be done with the evil wizard before the events of the next day. So a messenger was despatched post haste to San Francisco, and an immense red broadaxe was imported. At dusk that night a huge funeral pyre of tar barrels was raised in the middle of the base ball diamond and lighted amidst the lusty cheers of the spectators. Rousing speeches were indulged in, and when the excitement was at its height a writhing figure was dragged into the firelight. It was the "hoodoo," and although he was but a man of straw he seemed to tremble at the prospect of the summary vengeance to be meted out to him. He was hurried through a solemn mock trial. The California sweater which he wore across his heartless breast was pointed out as damnatory evidence, and he was hurried to his execution. His throat was

Photo by A. & A., Berkeley.

pressed against the block, and as the

"Give 'im the ax, the ax, the ax! Give 'im the ax, the ax, the ax! Give 'm the ax! Give 'im the ax!

Give 'm the ax!-Where?

"Right in the neck, the neck, the neck! Right in the neck, the neck, the neck! Right in the neck! Right in the neck! Right in the neck!-There!"

was raised crashing to the sky, the red axe kissed the block and the culprit's wooden head fell to earth. This was a.l very glorious and inspiring, but the events of the following day told another story. The new red axe was taken to the city and was borne proudly aloft by the rooters for the cardinal who paraded around the field with the axe in the van. All during the game there was a picked squad of Stanford athletes delegated to watch the precious axe which had slain the "hoodoo" on the campus. The game proved a disastrous one for Stanford. The batters for the Blue and Gold "found" Stanford's curves and the

game was lost for the Cardinal before the fifth inning. After the match the guards who had teen appointed to watch the axe straggled away one by one, until only a half dozen men remained around Stanford's unavailing mascot. At the gateway of the baseball grounds the guardians of the axe were met by a superior force of Berkeley men who made a dash for the Stanford trophy. The struggle was fierce but short, and in the midst of the fray the axe was wrested from the hands of a Stanford protector and handed to a California sprinter who started down an alley at top speed. He was pursued, however, by a Stanford distance runner, who overhauled him at last, and impersonating a Berkeley man, cried, "Hold on a minute! If you're tired I'll take the axe and relieve you." No sooner had the Stanford man regained it than he was set upon by the enemy, and again the axe was in the hands of the victorious University.

The mascot was then lost sight of for several hours, but Stanford, rather than suffer the humiliation of losing the game and the axe in one fell swoop, notified the police. Two officers were accordingly

Photo by A. & A., Berkeley.

past the police like a happy bridal pair. As far as Stanford was concerned, this was the last that was seen of the red axe, but the students at Palo Alto did not forget the insult very soon. Immediately after the loss Stanford spies were sent across the bay, and it was telegraphed back that the axe was located in the Chi Phi house on the California campus That night several score of collegians from Palo Alto took train for the city, where they scattered into groups of five and six, each group taking a different ferry boat for Berkeley. By midnight the whole offensive force had met and

President Jordan at first base.

detailed to watch the gates at the Ferry building and to search all out-going passengers for the stolen property. Of course the man with the axe showed up ultimately, and when he saw the frowning minions of the law he sized up the situation at a glance. There was a young woman student of Berkeley standing near by, and although he did not number her among his acquaintances, he explained the situation to her in a dozen words, handed her the axe, which she hid under her mackintosh, and the two marched

From a Senior baseball team.

President Jordan tells a story.

surrounded the Chi Phi house. It was the original plan of the Stanford assaulting party to gain access to the house by force of strategy, but the members of the Berkeley fraternity, already suspicious, would not open to the excuses of the Ulysses who knocked without. The parley was short. The besieging party grew impatient and fell upon the stout door that stood between them and the stolen axe. As the door flew open a voice from the second story inquired:

"What do you want?"

"We want the axe," came a determined chorus from below.

"Well, you are at liberty to look for it," responded the first speaker. The invitation was quite unnecessary, as the Stanford men were already ransacking the