Elmhurst College - Elms Yearbook (Elmhurst, IL)

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Happy am I; from care I am free! Why aren ' t they all con- tented, like me? — Carew. Jonas, our efficient electrician, loved skillful manual labor bet- ter than naoderate mental labor. His love was often elsewhere, too; in fact, it became so strong that he decided to leave us be- fore his last year was finished. No matter what difficulty arose, Jonas always wore that same I-should-worry smile Robert Zeiler 25

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Fred Schweinfurth Martin Seybold Those curly locks, so aptly twined, whose every hair a sonl dotli hind. — Carew. Our Freddie, a true Ken- tuckian, was an able manager of our track team, and a winner in tennis. Altho Freddie, as an athlete was much exposed to Boreas, his epidermis neverthe- less showed a remarkable degree of delicacy, for he was extremely touchy. He liked to tease, but was averse to being teased. He was a skillful hairdresser, but dressed only his own hair, in the nicety of which he took great pride. A college joke to cure the Mues. — Swift. Socks, as an epithet is the family heirloom given to all the descendents of the Seybold fam- ily who studied at Elmhurst. His piping, cricket-like chirp could not be imitated, no matter what vocal ability the imitator had. He was never contented unless he could spring his childish, in- nocent little jokes on some un- suspecting victim. Just as a hen cackles proudly after having laid an egg, so would Socks cackle after having successfully perpe- trated a joke. His feminine voice allotted him a place as a female character on the stage, where he was the hit of the season. We wonder whether Socks has joined the ranks of the suffragettes or antis. 24 don ' t like to talk to people H lio ulnays agree ivith me. Carlyle. Paul v., a most diligent stud- ent, excelled in German essay writing. He often endeavored to apply his authority as senior of the Music House, but seldom suc- ceeded, for he was no Samson, but rather a Zacchaeus. Pro- bably it was for this reason that he always agreed with the opin- ions of those with whom he talked. When reciting, it would be more convenient for Paul to have a gyroscope, instead of his hand, to steady his swiftly re- volving brain. Will someone at- tempt to invent a brain gyro- scope for Paul? Silence is one great art of con- versation. — Anna More. According to this quotation, our Eddie is surely a renowned conversationalist, for he always thinks twice before he speaks once. He was always on the spot with a helping hand when any work was to be done, and always did his duty with a smile. It was a rare treat to hear Eddie ' s muffled laughter, for it was contagious. He was never averse to losing a sleepy game of checkers or a tedious game of chess. His readiness to please everybody will guard him a- gainst failure.

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1914 CLASS POEM BY ALFRED T. MEYER. The robin gay proclaims tlie birth of Spring And with a voice surpassing Amphion ' s lyre The aerial herald comes to greet his king. And nature with new efforts to inspire. The golden sunbeams and the balmy air, Have raised earth ' s fleecy veil of purest white, And she, the queen of all that ' s grand and fair, Unequaled beauty shows and brings to light. Now Spring, adorned in all his pristine channs, And welcomed by the songster ' s clarion call. Embraces Flora in his stalwart arms. In verdure clothes the fields and forests tall. Where ' er the eye is turned in ecstasy The earth seems resurrected from the dead. Ah surely ! ' tis no dream, not fantasy ! For flow ' rs reveal themselves where ' er we tread. The dewbespangled morning-glory greets us When golden Aurora ' s magic spell is spent; The violet, too, in purple robe now greets us, Jove ' s nectar in the tulip ' s cup is pent. The silvry valley lily rings its bell In greeting to the newborn cerulean sky, And frolicsome Zephyrs dance from hill to dell ; Unburdened is the heart of ev ' ry sigh. 26 But why this scene depicting Spring most sacred. Why let fond mem ' ries linger of the past ? Ah ! ' tis the lane to childhood we again tread : The bygone days o ' er us their spell now cast. Once more we stroll in spirit thru the meadow, The home of larks, of flow ' rs and busy bees ; Where whitefleeced lambs are ambling near the hedgerow There sit we, garlands wreathing under trees. Oh lovely Spring ! Thou king of all the seasons ! We fain would keep Thee with us all the year. But God, for some divine and secret reasons Purposed that youth in due time disappear. Now June has brought the parting of the ways, And summer to lovely Spring has fallen heir ; Gone are the gay and ne ' erforgotten days When hearts were free of every thought of care. Yes, now the gentle days of Spring are o ' er. Life ' s summer with a vict ' ry has begun, — Our banner of brown and gold we ne ' er did lower, — Our just reward, commencement day, is come. To realize Spring ' s hopes and high aml ition We now must strive with all our might and main, — Not caring for the world ' s scorn and derision. Like ivy, upward climb, new heights to gain.