Dear Sirs,
While it is most unfortunate that our dear fellows have yet to taste the sweet nectar of victory upon the field of battle as summer gives way to autumn, I am of high spirits. The torrid heat that has besieged the mountain in recent months seems to have finally given way to the glorious breeze that beckons the onset of finer conditions. There is not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that the University’s finest will find their hearts buoyed by the transformation, and redouble their efforts in the name of Old Dominion.
Once again, in their infinite wisdom, the athletic administration has sent our football team beyond the borders of our fair Virginia, this time to face the Storrs Agricultural School, an institution founded only at the behest of farmers that found entrance to Yale University to be a bridge they could not traverse, much less lay eyes upon.