Clemson University - Taps Yearbook (Clemson, SC)

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THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE. 407 our country. The great question which confronts us is Are we moving in this direction ? Let us stop and think. It may be possible that we are drifting in the wrong direction. We have indications of trouble ahead of us. Our wealth is great, but we have vices and corruption that reach from the Senate chamber through every stratum of society. Plutocrats are being magnified and working men are being impoverished. That honor, patriotism, and rever- ence, and all things that were more endearing to our fore fathers than pure gold, are departing. Our country is being filled with men who are striving, not to do their God-given duty, but to win wages of gold and grub, and to obtain idle praises by empty plausibili- ties ; and men, who are aspiring to ride the topmost wave, not of a tempestuous ocean, which tries the heart of oak and the hand of iron, but of some pitiful sectarian or political mud-puddle. I think that it is getting high time that we were lay- ing aside all false conceptions of pride and advancement, that we were beginning to battle, with renewed energy, against industrial wolves, political and social rottenness, and that we were definitely persevering in the road that leads to national perfection. Nations have fallen whose slightest wish was once the world ' s law. Let us learn the lesson that this teaches us. It is pos- sible for us to fall, but may God grant that the banner of our country may ever be lifted high, and that our people may ever be a rising people, ascending the scale of national greatness and of moral purity. E. B. BOYKIN.

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406 THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE. starving upon the field of battle; when a few cowards were flying from their colors, and men as brave as Roman tribunes were weeping tears of grim despair, they were still fanning the flickering flame of liberty with a death- less faith that the Omnipotent arm of God would uphold the banner of the free. Again and again the hungry Continentals, whose feet were bare, and whose garments were tattered, set their breasts against the bayonet, until, from the very ashes of defeat, dear liberty rose like a goddess in her beauty, a Titan in her strength. Our ancestors were inspired by the highest impulses of fierce patriotism to make slow, though painful steps toward the top of the eternal mountain, where the grea; light of God breaks, and where there is no more of dark- ness and of down-trodden rights by foreign foes. The true glory of a nation is in the living temple of a loyal, industrious and upright people. The character of our people will determine our coun- try ' s destiny. Then it becomes us to ask ourselves whether we are to-day viewing national questions with a world-wide horizon and with our country ' s interest at heart, or dwindling down to a people whose god is the dollar, whose country is the stock exchange, and who are striving to manage affairs on the basis of brute self- ishness, dreaming that the mighty arm of some unseen power will lift us to the top round of national glory, without any arduous struggles on our part. Nations, like individuals, have their youth, their lusty manhood, and their decay. Our nation has passed her period of youth. It is either in the full bloom of greatness, or it is decaying. We can advance only by developing the natural re- sources, and kindling loftier aspirations in the youth of

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408 THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE. JUNE. June ! The month of joy and mirth When peace and good will reign on earth, And rivers move with bound and leap As if ashamed to slowly creep Along their destined course. June ! When flowers bloom galore When birds sing merrily, and pour Their sweet refrain into the light, While sun-bedazzled summer sprites Dance gayly here and there. June ! The month of wine and dance, The time when life seems one long trance One never ending song of love, An illustration from above Of God ' s eternal love. June ! The very breeze is stirred With sweet refrain from mocking-bird, And whip-poor-will, and restless jay, That soothe the slow declining day With their soft roundelay. Yes, this is June ! And hearts are bright, And feet trip the fantastic light And Cupid ' s arrows speed along Till men and maids sing Hymen ' s song And join the benedictine throng. W. L. MoiSK. •♦Numbers Applied. I am only a rat. My life has been in danger ever since my arrival at Clemson, yet I do not complain. I am only a rat and rats are subject to all sorts of treatment. I have been bunked and maltreated in every possible manner. I have been turned over while sleep- ing sweetly on my couch of down ; I have had my head rubbed, and my ears pulled. All sorts of initiations have been visited upon me and I bear it all with quiet