Hobart College - Echo of the Seneca Yearbook (Geneva, NY)

Page 32 text:

pSz.moR ■iQOO (0fttrrrs JKirat Srrm 11. A. Bradfokh. W. S. Sl'KVKMS, H. C. CoNNKT'l Ii, M. A. Lkrkinc.wki i , G. E. Siiin.KR, Srrmift urrm J. L. Sl’ORliR, G. A. Gi rciiKs, II. C. CONNKTTK, M. A. Lki kincw 1:1.1., W. S. Ste ENS, G. E. Si 11 pi.kk. - President I ’ice-President - Secretary Treasurer - Historian President I iee-Pi esident Secretary Treasurer Paddle Orator - Poet Colors—Silver Gray and Crimson. (flc-UUi Ill'll Rickety, Rickety, Rickety Rix, I lobart, I lobart, Nauglitv-six.

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VOLUME XLV, 1906 27 Whrmtlunrtii nf HM5 Ai.iiKKT Broad iukst, A.B., student at the General Theological Semi- nary. N. Y. City. Jerome Kates, A.B„ student at the General 1'heologieal Seminary, N. Y. City. Wyatt Kixoman, in Business. Buffalo, N. Y. James Ciiari.es Maddioan, B.S., Professor at Routt College, Jackson- ville, 111, Walter Frederick Nutt, A.B., teaching in N. Y. City. K. Oo.uva, post-graduate work at 1 lobart. W. C. Rose, in business, New York City. A. Stououteniu roii, in business, Buffalo, N. Y. R. |. Summers, studying law at Harvard University. |. A. Sin.ci.aik, law student at University of Minnesota. W. B. VanHoesen, A. Ik, studying at Princeton University. T. L. Wilder, A.B., studying law at Utica, N. Y. |. G. Wilson, A.B., student at the General Theological Seminary, N. Y. Citv.

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VOLUME XLV, 1906 29 i ntuir liiatimj “Ah that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth’s sweet scented manuscript should closet” |j NL hesitates when the last word for one’s class must he said. It VJ seems almost futile to say anything when the time lies at hand which so curiously, so strikingly, is the end and the beginning, and silence, perhaps, would seem more fitting. Yet as one pauses, all the glowing embers of memory burst suddenly into flames and under the lurid light each event of the four years files silently past and spectre like, fleeting, evanescent, voices ring, faces smile, crowds cheer, music swells across the vista; banquets, past ball games, Freshman beers, Junior proms, canoe rides, girls, whirl under the light in a riot of chaos and cast fitful shadows. So real, so vivid it is that one reaches out with one's hands to stay these weird ghost-like things. Alas, they are gone; it is the dream-world illusion of memory truly. So, one must let the flames cast their light on the spectral host as they steal past and be satisfied. Real things of just this sort will never come again into one’s life. Other music may he as sweet, other dances as brilliant, other girls as charming, yet over them will never play that magic conjury of College life which is as illusive as the scent of a rose; as subtle as moonlight in its fain power of transformation. As the ceaseless How of time sweeps one relentlessly on into the land of white-tapped brows and day-dreams, the fires will burn, no doubt, with softened glow, and under this ruby light of memory the spectral host will glide more frequently with its triumph of mirthful pageantry—the pageantry of those College days long, long past hut never dead.