Springfield College - Massasoit Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

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presenting to you some great English classic but for that which one member ably described as unnecessary diplo- matic censorial procrastination. Time and space will permit only the casual mention of the Senior trip, so fresh in the minds of us all, and of the recent resurrection, in a somewhat different form, of the fire department which for various reasons was dis- continued in our Junior year. All these events have been a part of our life, but we are preparing for a religious profession and some mention should be made of such training. The curriculum provides no course in dogmatics, yet I venture to state that there are few points in the vast realm of dogmatic theology which we have not at some time learnedly discussed. A few of us have attempted pulpit oratory and many have taught Bible classes. If sometimes these classes were of the opposite sex, it but augurs well for the future. We have had our weekly prayer meetings where for a few minutes each week we have paused to consider some serious problem of life’s experience. These with the personal discussions of two or three together have assisted the efforts of the faculty to build in us an earnest, sincere, practical religious life. A few of the events of our history have been narrated. If I should attempt to describe the lives of the men who have figured in our history, it would necessitate a biography of every man who today receives a diploma, and more than a brief mention of many who have passed out into the world, and of many whom we leave behind in the other classes. Of the forces which have helped to mold our lives, I must say a word. First, of the spirit of the School, early manifested to us by the Junior reception. The spirit of “Old T. S.” has entered our lives and warmed our hearts. I he personal fellowship with the various members of the faculty and the power cf their lives over ours is a fcrce ever present in our minds. We can never too highly estimate the self-forgetful efforts they have made in our behalf, or the care with which they have guided us through the intricacies of difficult subjects. The influence of our natural environment, the campus, the buildings, the ever-changing vista of the lake, the tall green pines, the beautiful winter mornings, and the glorious autumn sunsets, — their subtle influence has entered our lives and has given us a keener appreciation of the presence of God. The School traditions, the stories of men who passed our way in years gone by and who are now doing a man’s work in the world, the stories of the lives of Henry S. Lee, of Mrs. Woods, and of Dr. Durgin, who gave of themselves that we might be abler men, — these have stirred in us yet nobler ambi- tions. And I recall that the Class of 1908 is the last which ever sat at Thanksgiving dinner with Mrs. Woods; we have the choice privilege of saying, “ I remember her.” Dr. Durgin we knew better. For more than a year we enjoyed his presence, his kindly advice and wise sayings. We loved him because he loved us; and the memory of him is to us a constant inspiration. We stand now at the parting of the ways; we are to leave each other; we are to leave those happy, serious, helpful experiences which stand today so vividly before us. But the future is bright: we go to prove our souls. For us a new day is dawning. The east is all aglow. And ere the light of that great day shall fade, may it be said of each of us, “He has fought a good fight, he has kept the faith, he has been true to his calling, to the traditions of the Training School, and to the ideals of the Class of 1908.”

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to Wilbraham. The next year our rendezvous was on Mount Tom. Was it a mere coincidence or by careful pre- arrangement that Mount Holyoke hunted chestnuts that same day ? Last year we again went to Wilbraham and found the chestnuts quite as scarce as ever, but apples were abundant and we brought away in our pockets five barrelfuls, so ’tis said. Woods Hall and Massasoit Lake have been the scenes of many other jolly social hours. We early appreciated the social opportunities of the lake and provided ourselves in our junior year with a class canoe that each might make the most of every opportunity for social culture. The success of the venture can never be measured, even by matrimonial statistics, but evidence of its value is suggested by the action of succeeding classes in promptly follow- ing our example, l he night we launched the canoe we had a camp fire supper up the lake, which cemented the bonds of class brotherhood, and we have always looked upon that night as the real genesis of our class life. A fireside social in Woods Hall in our Middler year, and the pleasant hours spent in the homes of the faculty fostered the strong spirit of fellowship which we have ever enjoyed and brought us into intimate social relations with our instruc- tors, some of whom we are proud to claim as honorary members. We have had many good times on the athletic field in friendly competition with the other classes. Sometimes we won; sometimes we lost. When our teams failed we cheered them with sincere and whole-hearted sympathy. When they won we rejoiced in the success of their efforts. Three times our teams have ranked champions of the school. In our Junior year we trimmed all comers in football and baseball, and the next year our best men were in demand for the varsity teams. In our Middler year we captured the track championship. And last fall it was largely our men, led by one of our own classmates, who demonstrated the possibilities of the mooted forward pass and made the football team of 1907 to be ranked as one of the three most celebrated teams which ever wore Training School colors on the gridiron. But sometimes as we recall the past, the actual classroom work — the academic activities, as it might be termed — forces itself into our minds and we are bound to give it consideration. Some of these activities are still so fresh in our minds that they assume undue proportions. We are still inclined to think that we have digested the whole library, historical and all. It has even been claimed that some of our digests were so uneconomical as to give one professor indigestion and appendicitis, but no amount of studential physical diagnosis or physiology of peristaltic exercise has ever proved the truth of the allegation. And then, too, some of us wrote theses; but no extent of historical recog- nition can ever adequately present the pangs of thesisitis. Before the disease attacked us even, we were forced to sit through seminar-clinics and be involuntary witnesses of its dire effects. It was then we learned to sing the seminar hymn, “Art thou weary, art thou languid.” There has been one beneficial result, however, from our experience with thesisitis for which all succeeding classes will rise up and call us blessed. It is the production of a new beatitude, “ Blessed is the man who writes his thesis in his Middler year.” So much talent was demonstrated by the members of our class at sundry times and in divers places that it seemed good for us to organize the first Senior dramatic club. Elaborate plans grew rapidly and we might today be

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26 The In olden time, when knighthood had its day, An ancient armorer, whose head was gray, Whose face was wrinkled, and whose form was bent, Who’d wrought in honor, and was well content With life, as he had fought for right and truth, Was giving farewell counsel to a youth. The lad was strong and eager tor the fray; And, after training well, was on his way To seek adventure far abroad, and fight To prove his worth to wear the name of knight. The old man armed the youth from head to heel, In burnished armor of well-proven steel. Gave hint an ashen lance, and sword well wrought. And last, a charger strong and nobly taught. Now, as his hand in farewell grasp he pressed, His eye grew light, and all his mien confessed rhe pride he felt in this his pupil dear, W hose skill and strength he ' d watched o’er many a year. “My son, he said, “at last has come the day We both have longed for, and you’re on your way To win your knightly belt and spurs of gold; l ake words of counsel, then, from one who’s old. I’ve tested you. lad, like a well-forged blade. And of your strength and skill I’m not afraid. THE MASSASOIT You’re eager now to get into the fray; Too soon you’ll find it’s work you seek, not play. Do not lose heart. For many men you’ll find W ho haven’t your equipment of the mind, Who know not all the latest tricks of fence; Do not despise them. They’ve experience Which helps them use their strength to win a fight From many a younger and a subtler knight. Tis from such men as these that you can learn To strike with skill, and hard blows, off to turn. Each one, perhaps, some favorite trick may know, And, learning it, you will more skilful grow. “Sometimes you’ll hear men tell what they can do. I’d silence keep then, lad, if I were you; For, when a youth, I got in many a scrape By talking, and was lucky to escape. You’ll prove your manhood best by keeping still, Although I own ’twill sorely tax your will. ’Tis folly when young men begin to boast; The modest men are those who do the most; The strongest men most often silence keep. Still runs the water where the stream is deep. You are in training for a perfect knight; A true one always keeps his armor bright.