Peace College - Lotus Yearbook (Raleigh, NC)

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vine-clad window he sat in liis rustic cart, amid liis shining cans. And Fannie, above, descending- a rickety rope-ladder. ]iresented a picture of beauty seldom seen. Hut half-way to the bnttuni — alas for true love! alack the dav! — her foot caught and she tumbled head down, feet up, into a three-gallon can of milk. He drew her up by a foot ; he took her out and emptied her ; but all was in vain. Love ' s martyr ! And the last was to be my fate. Witli what trembling- eagerness I watched the revolutions of the shaking-jelly. How with straining eyes I peered into the crystal sides that went by. With what bated breath I waited. At last — at last, it showed signs of settling, but suddenly, to my horror and consternation, the Angel of Destinv reached out her alabaster arm. took tlie jelly, and ate it before I could .gasp out a remonstrance. . nd I am left to brood longin.gly over the page in the Book of Fate which I can never turn. I, alone of the ten, know not where my star is to set, nor how ' the flower of my life is to wither. And if, O gentle reader, you should ever have the misfortune to consume at supper a ten-sided shaking-jelly, which does not agree with you, may your nightmare never be that you write a Senior Class Prophecy. The Prophet.

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And tlie Ijl-cjs ami biittcrHics Ik-w by and the sun shone on the grass- covered nionnd. I wiped away a tear. When I looked again the jelly was shaking as with convulsion. What is Irene into now? I wondereil. A great conuuolion was going on — an explosion I Tl(e center was auhirl, but at the edges I made out flying teeth and hair and a foot. Report after re]inrt. as of cannon, caused the startled hair on my head to stand on end. What is it? Oh, tell me, I cried. The Angel wrote: She went to a strange city where there was nobody to tell her grievances to ; she stood the silence two weeks, then she exploded. I looked back with a shudder, but the scene was gone, and tlie shaking-jelly turned slowly and tremblingly. r)ur p. let next, 1 knew, and I waited expectantly fur the noljle death of a .great wom.iii. I )eli])erately the mould turned, and deliberately it settled and came to a stand, and I beheld the livelv Elizabeth in the act of committing suicide by hanging herself, I shrank back, and the .Angel wrote: .She thinks it will be such a good practical joke on her mother to find her there. When I looked again the shakin.g-jelly had changed color and taken on a rose light, while a delicate perfume of lilies (imported from Cologne) fiUed the air, and I saw . nnie l.irein reclining an a p lush luunge of decided elegance, holding with her last breath a book of German Philosophy. She died of the most stylish disease known at the time, the Angel wrote, in pink ink, acute inflammatory apoplexy of the pyloric appendix on the posterior . esophagus, Ah, I should have guessed it, I gaspe.l : how like her! - .n imported dis- ease, I know. Next the transparent side showed the fate of our sweet and studious little Myrtle. : wild joy-dance of I ' cejees round a boiling pot in which resided the bones and flesh of their belovi-d missionary. Dut their ardor was somewhat dampened when it was found that the flavor of Trigonometrv permeated even the marrow. The shaking-jelly revolved du its pivot and I In. iked with eager fear to see the fate of Helen, m ' best-loved friend. She spiod .ahme in the beauty of her wiMnanliood, Lively anil lovable, but suddenlv the demonic figure of a lunatic rushed out, with a pistol in one hand, a dagger in the other, and a club in another. The fiend rushed at her with shrieking words, but Relen, too polite to turn her back, smiled as if with a smile to turn him from his wild purpose. On he dashed, and I closed my eyes before the awful deed was done. yMi, how nnich I wish Shakespeare could have seen the next jjicture before he wrote his Ixomeo and Juliet! . scene of moonlight and love. The gentle, romantic h ' annie was in the act of eloping with the milkman. Beneath her

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SENIOR CLASS POEM. To yuu, I) viiicclad walla of brick. That look out through the trembling leav And you, O pillars, strong and white, Reared high above the tallest trees, 1 dedicate my faltering song. I pray you to inspire my pen That (ifttimes fails in writing doivn The thoughts that course throughout my And give my faulty effort grace To please the eyes of ten wlio clKise Me forth from out the rest to speak In simple words some things of them. HA -I.I. Diii.i;- Jk: mi: Mai ' .ici, Pciwr.i.i,. Two happy years our chief has spent Among the halls and shaded groves Where squirrels leap from bough to Ixiugh; And we in naming o ' er the ten, Have chosen her as best of all, That she should lead us through one year, (Jur last, to hoped-for victory. Our Hazel, may she never lose The memory of these happy days, And as she goes forth into life The best wish we can send with her Is may she never meet with love Less true than that we freely give. .Second of rank, of thee 1 sing The sweetness of thy gentle ways. Nor less the zeal that thou hast shown In laboring through the toilsome years to reach the goal. MMill M.wii Sim .Sweel myrtle, Hower of rose ' s hue. Thou art no sweeter than our flower That bears thy name. Our flower is sweet With joy and lo e. K. THEKINE liEKNAKD HlLl.. And one there is for several years Has been our comrade and our friend. Wh o last year held the place of chief, And is beloved by us all. Kair Kate, did our fame as a class Depend upon thy work alone. We were the best class here for years ; ' T would make the walls surprised to see What laurels would adorn our brows. Ikenk Lacv. Ne, t she who dwells without our walls Is not less near because so far, And not less trusted, since she holds What some less learned than ourselves Would prize the most, our worldly store. Our hoard ranks not with Croesus ' s wealth, Nor any modern millionaire ' s, I5ut what we have we trust to her, OiM- Irene, our fair treasurer.