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and then, but it is a disgrace to
mar a splendid victory by getting
drunk, a some idiots insist on
doing.

Well - the great day is over,
but as I crawl into my bed last
blissful thought is, "We beat
them!"

November 12th, Tuesday.

Arthur Kerns, one of my best
friends, came in to see me tonight.
I write this to show what a fine
fellow Arthur is. I would not
dare to say what I said to him to
any other man in the hall, and, if
I did, it would probably do more
harm than good. We talked about
the game and then told stories.