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Page 20 text:
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ROLL CALL-JUNIORS Mr. Anderson: Oh, it is excellent To have a giant's strength. Mr. Bitzing: In all thy humor, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow. 4Addison. I Mr. Bromley: A truer, nobler, trustier heart, Ne'er beat within a human breast. -Byron. Miss Elmer: A form more fair, a face not sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. -f-VVhittier. Mr. Ferry: His years but young, but his experience old: His head unmellowed but his judgement ripe. ' -Shakespeare. Mr. Geib: Say nought to him as he walks the hall, and he'll say nought to you. -Byron. Miss Guy: t'My lady hath a smile for all, a kindly word for eachf, Miss Jamieson: Her sunny locks 4 Hang on her temples like golden fleece. f-Shakespeare. Mr. Flinnz 'tDescribe him who can, I 1 The abridgement of all that is pleasant in man. fGoldsmith. Mr. Slack: 'LWho prove their doctrine orthodox By apostolic blows and knocks. '-eButler. Mr. Thomas: Bid me discourse, 1 will enchant thine ear. --Shakespeare. Miss Turnbull: HA tender heartg a will indexible.-''Longfellouz 18
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Page 19 text:
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I' QC 3,5 MO IPL'
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Page 21 text:
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CLASS PRO PH ECY The Century Magazine of July, 1930, contains the following inter- esting reminiscence from the facile pen of Mr. E. K. Bitzing, the dis- tinguished editor of the New York Sun. It has been my delightful privilege this year, to attend the coni- mencement exercises at Macalester College, St. Paul, Minn. It is twenty-tive years since, as a young graduate, I had myself taken part, on a similar occasion, in this, n1y Alma Mater. That fact, indeed, ac- counted for my presence. During the year, letters had been passing between the members of the Class of 1905, scattered all over the world, and the result was that we all met once more, on the Sth of June, in the Dear Old Halls. But no, they were not the same Halls. In place of the little red brick building that had seemed so important to us, stood that massive pile of eternal stone, which constitutes the home of one of the most famous colleges of America. Truly the years had changed the college, as they had changed us! And yet the place was not less dear to us. for in memory we cherished the college of other days, and built up within this mountain of granite, our own little shrine before which we worshiped. I believe that no one has ever adequately portrayed the feelings which pour into the heart of a man, when, after an absence of a quarter of a. century, he stands in the corridors of his old college home. All feelings mingle: Joy, sorrow: pleasure, pain: pride, humility: remem- brance, regret. Those dear old days! Those days that are no more!', The feelings are sufhciently complex when the place itself has remained unchanged: but the strangeness of surroundings adds thoughts more various still. VVe are torn between the present and the past: between pride of achievement, and regret for vanished joys. As we gazed that day, at the granite walls. the massive pillars, and the beautiful domes, they seemed to melt away, and in their place a shadow-picture came, a reflection of that unpretentious, homely build- ing. which, through so many years. had been hidden among the pictures in the galleries of iremory. As we were guided through the beautiful palace of learning, by our dear old friend ex-President VVallace, now a venerable old man of nearly four score, whose name is enshrined in the hearts of thousands of his countrymen, there seemed to appear before us the battered stairs: the door with the broken glass: the postoffice boxes jammed with papers: and the busy stream of students passing eagerly to their class-rooms. VVe instinctively raised our feet for fear of tearing up pieces of the old floor. But all was changed: there was no battered stairway: no broken door: no disorderly post- 19
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