Emory University - Campus Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

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If fl Bistorv of junior Glass aka' E, of the Junior Class, are the sittings of these last three years. A discour- aging number dropped out Freshman year on account of their health and their marks- especially the latter. Those were the balmy days when Reed, Bryan, and McClure, and Tom Ashford were prominent among us. The second act was one continuous scene of tragedy. We were acknowledged the meanest, smartest, the most class-spirited, etc., etc., of any class that ever yelled F-R-E-S-Hi I I We refused to be subordinated even to class oflicers, and the ZODIAC editors had to assemble us some forty or more times ere we would elect even a Historian. We had more men expelled than all the other classes combined. We were summoned eu masse be- fore our dear President to be lectured for our misdirected vitality until we rejoiced thus to escape a recitation. Those were the times when squirrels and jacks and shot found their way into our lecture-rooms. Those were the days when the autocratic intellects of Jule I-Ieidt and Pete Walton and Stovall and Cline shone with undimmecl lustre. Those were the days when we wrestled on the plane of original literature, and Peed blessedtus, some with 4, some with 4.5 and some with 5, and our number fell from 69 to 46. Those days are gone but not forgotten. Now we have reached that maturity which is the hope of yearning Fresh- men. We wrap about us the toga of a quiet dignity and condescend to be treated by Subs and Freshes in a remarkably charitable manner. L A We sing triumphant songs of I feel like I feel like I feel C127 versesj, and display an originality in counting clock strokes which Prof. Stone says seventeen years connection with the institution had not hitherto disclosed. We enjoy ourselves in French with an cz bandofz we would not dare exhibit before Sophs and other inferiors. Questions are asked which the lightest weight in the class would be ashamed to ask a baby. ' No history which omits the Gym. can be complete, but it would take another history and another historian to recount the horrors of the Black Hole in which we dress. The 30

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atmosphere hangs heavy with a very ancient and ish-like smell g the exported breezes are laden with coarse sentiments, and as the call, Platoons ready! steals in like Gabriel's blasts on a vile sinner, the reeking mass rolls over a few half-clothed Sophs like starnpeded cattle. When all but the sixth and seventh platoons are ready, the work begins. The monotony of the drill is broken by Pardon, beg pardon! After this a pinching process begins by way of inspection. In athletics we are still the recognized leaders. There has not been a single contest in which the Juniors have not borne themselves well. J. A. is still bucking centre. In the relay race we came out an exciting second. In basket ball we lost the pennant by but one throw of the ball. In base ball we hope to bear ourselves like men. In that most repre- sentative of all contests, pentathlon, which includes ive different contests, we won. This was Won by Messrs. Feagan, Wood, J. A. Smith, Little and Stipe. Of the ive we led in three and tied in a fourth. A strange thing is the hallucination under which the Sophomores are laboring. They think they are a race more athletic than that which once tackled Mr. Peter Juppiter, Esq. They think that what Vaughn cannot do is not worth doing, and that McAfee can throw spiral curves. It is a Wonderful class! And so '99, with a thrilling story behind her, getting closer and closer by the comrades that have fallen out, is marching on to that Promised Land. May every one of us be Seniors. EUGENE L. JOHNSON, Historian. 1 f ' r Far ' ' ,f r N 1 .. '21-AQ.: '11, '. H51 ' if 5 iii' - VQQ7 1 at fry ,g a 31