Vanderbilt University - Commodore Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

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 2 4 citations have come to us from the remotest regions. We have been forced to decline main of these, but we have accepted one, which we think wortliv of men- tion. l rof. Gladstone, a noted Homerie scholar, lias offered to pay our expenses to London if we will act in that city, assuring us that our receipts will 1m so great that we can make a tour t«» Egypt, the land of tin Nile. We have also developed into several distinct classes. There is the society man. to whom the doors of Nashville's elites!- are thrown wide, and who often leads a “german or forms one of a box-party at tin Vcndome. We have the athletic man. who. on last field Day, at a very exciting part of the game, jumped hventy feet into the air. and caught a lly with two lingers of his left hand. Our humorous man was reared on the ranches of 'Pexas, and has developed into a great genius, whose lectures are listened to by attentive thousands, and whose fame has gone throughout the civilized terra tirma. Our porter, in the capacity of bell-ringer and room-sweeper, is following in the steps of some of the greatest men of the past, and will some day stand on the dizzy heights of fame. We have every disposition represented—tin worldly and tin V. M. ('. A. man, the talkative and the lion-talkative, the modest and the “brazen, the optimist and the pessimist, and so on. Whatever they are, they are to the fullest extent. At the first of the year there was one fellow from Arkansas, with moss still on his back, who looked through a telephone to find a star invisible to his own eye. but even he has become a cultured, polished student like the rest of us. This class, as the reader will have observed before now, has made the most brilliant record ever made here, but great as is their present glory, my eyes arc dazzled with the vision of their future victories. Other historians will tell of their achievements in science, literature, and art. and it is my hope that in col- lecting the memoirs of these illustrious men. this tribute to their college work may Im selected, and thus my name be transmitted to posterity. is (he only hope I hove.

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 IfOK a month I've fondly courted ' Every inii8i‘ in Tennessee; I liavc failed with local muses. Ami with some from o’er the sea. They have never heard my wooing. Still I'll never cease to woo Till I get a classic poem For the class of ninotv-two. I have plead lor inspiration At the early morn and late, Hut they gave me tribulation, And they made me tribulate. So I'll |uit these horrid muses And just go it all alone Finish up my classic poem. Dedicate it to Malone. We have left unbroken records In the first and second year. So on to take the place of Juniors With a sigh, a sob, a tear. We've a man for every calling That a god or man could make, And I often stop and wonder What Trabue, “the kid,’' will take. Locke will surely be a lawyer. If he ever learns to lie; And I think, from former records, He will get there by and bv. I have often pictured Ivobins, As I looked into the face ( f a horrid Chinese idol.