Tulane University - Jambalaya Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

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Two things there are that can ' t be beat Under our skies of azure heat; Like twin stars to our eyes they shine — Alma Mater, half divine; Newcomb, learned, lovely, true; H.vermore long life to you !

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THB STORY OF THB YEAR. Prologue. HE g reat sovereign of the material uni- verse, Father Time, gazed out upon the immensity of his dominion — the realm of flaming suns, planets innum- erable, of worlds made and in the mak- ing, of all vast unfathomable depths of space under the wide arch of heaven, and all subject to his absolute power. Far, far away, a glimmering spot in ethereal space, shone the planet known to its own puny inhabitants as the World. As Father Time ' s glance rested upon this planet he be- came aware of a figure drawing nearer and nearer to his em- pyrean mansion. Remembering the recent folly of Icarus, he watched the daring spirit anxiously until she stood before him. Her face, with its broad brow and true thoughtful eyes, shone with celestial youth and beauty, while a smile of rnatemal tenderness softened the proud outHnes of her Ups. From the folds of her gown of softest blue, bourid with an olive girdle, she drew forth a volume. All hail. Father Time! she began simply. The chil- dren of men whom the Creator of all things has made in His own image, endowed with potentialities for good and for evil, I strive to uplift, to inspire, to raise to a level with this divine inheritance. I give them freely of knowledge and its power, and plant the love of truth, honor, and universal brotherhood in their hearts. They call me Tulane, and I have given you, O august controller of destinies, in obedience to your inexorable law, another year of my life. I come with a heart overflowing with thankfulness to bring you the record of my children ' s strong endeavor — their failures as well as their triumphs — and to offer at your shrine the final fruits of the many gifts which both my sons and daughters owe solely to your beneficence. With fond pride do I point out to you the eldest of my children, who, owing to your ever-advancing footsteps, now leave my once-welcomed shelter to go forth into the shadowy future, brave in the armor which I have taught them to wear, to await the successive recurrence of your many birthdays. As their Alma Mater, O Father Time, I do beseech you to deal gently with them. Grant them strength ever to retain hope and faith, though they lose fortune and friends. Receive also the record of my younger children, who have striven valiantly to do their utmost, and who de- serve your approbation because of that striving, apart from success or failure.