Princeton University - Nassau Herald Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

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The Nassau H erald munications from the dead. Noticing that the imp who brought the telegram was still lingering about, he tossed him a couple of bits of sulphur, and departed. I had just begun to hurry on, when I stumbled over a long graceful form lying in my path, bound hand and foot and with a young tablecloth stuffed in its mouth. Its features were so blackened with cinders as to be almost unrecognizable, but, acting on a sudden suspicion, I removed about twenty yards of linen from its throat and the iigure immediately burst into song. Well, John Drummond, I cried, I knew I'd find you here, but what did you do to get this, and I pointed to the rope and the gags. First, said he, let me thank you for the neat way you removed that obstruction from my throat. I've seen you get away with some gags before, but I've never felt like thanking you for it till now. Go on, said I untying the ropes, your story interests mef' Well, said john, it was this way. Steve White and I got up a little entertainment for the benefit of the Tartarus A. C. We had it well advertized, and got quite a large aud- ience, and everything was Sunday till I got up to render that little ballad, entitled, 'Loan Me Your Soap, My Glass Eye's Dustyf I had gotten rid of just one verse, when somebody caught me in the back of the neck with a pitchfork. The last thing I saw was 'Steve' chasing a big devil over a pile of cinders. I-Ie certainly was travelling, you could have played checkers on his coat-tails. When I woke up, I was where you found me. I guess they must have gotten Steve, too. just then we heard a thundering roar, and perceived a whole flock of devils in a big red automobile. They were running up and down the road, passing and repassing over a helpless figure stretched in their path. Excuse me, said jack, who was evidently still mindful of his recent experience. I-Ie slipped around a heap of sulphur and was gone. ' I turned my attention to the figure in the road. Every time the machine went over him, I could hear him murmur, The sons o' bucks! Let me at 'em. I8

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Class Prophecy fthe sound of many typewriters and voices raised in dicta- tion. All out yelled jim. Instantly three heads popped out of the hole, and I descried the shrewd features of Sim Winch, Louis Kaplan Stewart, and I. Fool'em Bennett. They have to keep these fellows chained up here, explained jim, or they'd have owned the place by this time. I-Ii, boys! I yelled, by way of starting the conversation. I-Iow do you like it here Pi' Rotten! came back Ike's dulcet tones. We're nothing but spirits down here, and every- body can see through us. The heads disappeared, and the typewriters resumed their tune. Telegram for Mr. Dwight, called a voice, and up dashed a little black devil waving an asbestos envelope. jim called him over, tore open the envelope, and read: 7 Golden Gate St. April 21st, For I-Ieaven's sake, Iim, can't you get the fellows to make less noise down there. We can't study at all up here with all that racket going on. A Signed, RANKIN AND O'I-IARA. Bud evidently finds it pretty hard to get away with a blulf where he is now, thought I. Well, said Jim, I guess I'll have to go and see the dean about this. Have they got a dean's office down here? I inquired, mopping sundry gallons from my perspiring brow. Iim looked at me in disgust. It wouldn't be Hades if they hadn't,', said he. That's sof' said I, ashamed of my display of density, Good luck to you. I Oh, I'll fix it up all right, said he. If the dean won't do anything I'll get 'Tot' Woodhull to put an editorial about it in the Daily Brimstonianf' Why don't you try a communication, said I, remembering the Prince's effective method of dealing with compulsory chapel. I would, sighed jim, but 'Tot' doesn't believe in com- I7

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Class Prophecy I-Iello! Steve, I shouted, with characteristic tact, how are you feeling P All right, thanks , answered the figure, just a little bit run down, that's all. There was nothing to be done, so I passed on and came to the bank of a fiery river. As I gazed at it, an eight-oared shell sped by, in which I dimly made out the forms of Bob Roach, Berk Ransome, Bob Smith, Clint Winant, Charlie', Savage, Ned Dillon, Bill Wallace, and Tough Rogers. In the stern was a little devil lashing them withia long whip, and on either side was a launch with a big demon in it, who stuck a pitchfork into anyone who showed signs of weakening. I Out for a spin, boys, I remarked, always, as you notice, ready with the cheerful remark at the appropriate moment. ' No, came back the scornful voice of 4'Bob Smith, we're picking daisies out in back of Brown. And they vanished into the smoke. Hel1o, 'said a voice. I turned, and beheld the care-worn features of Manager Frank Larkin. I-Ie appeared in great spirits for a busy man. What's the matter P said I, crew doing pretty well? Best eight on the Styxf' chortled Frank. And say, I guess I'm a poor manager, too. I just got a poor devil that couldn't read to sign a contract to build us a fire-proof boat- house for a couple of pitchforks and an asbestos union-suit. Is Roy I-Iowe down here yet P I asked. I No, said Frank, I-Ie's a matinee idol now, picture on every girl's bureau, and all that sort of thing. I-Ie's starring now in his own show, 'Stabbed in a Lonely Spotf They say it's the hit of the season. By the way, did you know that Menefee Clancy had just been elected president of New York University P I expressed my regret, and asked about some of the other fellows. Well, continued Frank, 'Phil' Krauthoff has just been elected the first prohibition mayor of New York City. 'Sandy' Macgregor has given up teaching Sun- day-school, and has gone in for literature. I-Iis poem begin- I9