THE Pall Hel is a lovely little thing. It is generally thought to be a dance, but in reality it is an opportunity. Dancing is only the excuse presented to the Dean of Women by the Greek co-eds for going out and staying out till the stars are bright. The real object of the thing is too deep for the ordinary mortal. Cupid has a corner on all words that express it.
   The Pan Hel is informal on account of the regular inclemency of the weather. It is too hot for evening dress, and just about right for the fluffy ruffles that girls seem prone to wear in the spring, tra la. On account of the weather, also, no extra labor is expended by the committee in decorating the barn -- excuse, the Auditorium. Of course there are other reasons, but it sounds pretty good to say that it is too hot to work. It is. It is also too hot for the men to rush about filling up programs, so straight programs are danced. The Thirteenth dance is considered unlucky -- by the men. The intermission after that whirl has been proven to be more fully given over to congratulations, and the display of newly acquired frat pins, than any other. It is only fair to say, however, that all of them are not put on for the first time on this occasion. Not a few, it has been discovered, have been worn for some months previously, but not in plain view of the inquiring eye. Each sorority keeps an exact record of the number of pins acquired by its members at this time, and the Phi Psis present a loving cup to the one showing the best score. The Thetas hold the record to date with a perfect tally sheet in 1911. The Pi Phis are a close second this year, but one or two of their girls have been engaged twice already, which brings up the general

average considerably. Very few Pan Hel affairs are serious. After the diamond ring stage, recovery is rapid. Scarcely one case in a dozen ever develops into the plain gold stage, where serious symptoms and wishy-washy conversation are found. This is quite fortunate, as no one can attend a Pan Hel without exposure to the dread disease, and no vaccine has as yet been discovered.
   From the foregoing it can readily be seen that the Pan Hel has not developed along those lines laid down by its founders -- not that any one knows what lines those were -- but it is impossible that any one could have wished to bring about so doleful a state of affairs as now exists. It is supposed that the founders gave a dance because they enjoyed it, and that the floor was crowded because those who attended enjoyed it. How changed is everything. Now the persecuted student is forced to go because if he doesn't the Other Guy will take his Girl away from him, and when he gets there he has to dance, because She is afraid People will talk if they sit out too many; and He mustn't take off his coat no matter if He melt, because People will think they are Engaged and that He don't respect Her any more; and when the rest of the Girls begin to come blushing out of the green shady Nooks, with bright shiny pins flashing in the cardiac region, She looks at Him so sadly and reprovingly that He simply has to take Her to one of these nooks -- and give Her a chance to blush.
   Hard Luck, isn't it?
   Yet every year more alumni come back to the Pan Hel. You can't keep the bachelors away. How odd, Percy.