Union University - Lest We Forget Yearbook (Jackson, TN)

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ntinr Qllaaa -pom ' Strife is the fundamental law of life. — Theodore Roosevelt. When the way seems dark and dreary. When life has lost its charms. When the soul is tired and weary; Fight on. No room is in the strife for the quitter. He is only in the way, But the whole world bows to the hard hitter; Fight on. Life is no more than we make it; Strive onward to a goal Though fate may try to rout your grit; Fight on. In war, in peace it ' s just the same, The struggle never ceases, The rich, the poor are in the game: Fight on. And thus will life be forever, Till defeat has conquered been. The cry will be ever — ever, Fight on. Class Poet. 28

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Orator (Mass iitBiorti 3T is said that history is past politics and that it hardly behooves any one to write a history of himself. It is indeed better that history be written from records left, and that it be written by following generations, or in college life by following classes. The historian of the class of ' 14 could write a history of the class of ' 11 or ' 12 or of any past class and say things — and truthfully — that would make the present students of Union proud of those who have gone before them. So we hope in the years to come that the class of ' 14 may be remembered for what it accomplished, collectively and individually. What we say cannot add to what we have done and we realize that we will be judged by our deeds. All we ask is a fair consideration; we deserve no more; we expect no less. We have been the talk of the school because of our poli- tics — we have met behind barred doors when others would have enjoyed the fun — and we have no tears to shed nor any hard feelings over them now. We have been vic- torious in athletic contests without boasting of our prow- ess; we have felt the sting of defeat without lowering our heads and though slandered, we have not dealt in slanders. We have held places of honor and have done our best, and we have served in the ranks as loyally as we have led. We have seen changes in customs — and for the better — and felt that we were doing our part in keeping Union up with this age of progress. But as we are about to leave the class room for the bat- tles of life, we see how little we know. The Freshman thinks he will know everything at the end of four years of hard study; the Junior thinks that in one short year he will be eciual to Solomon in all his glory, but we, the class of ' 14, must say, I used to think I knew I knew. But now I must confess The more I know I know I know, I know I know the less. Class Historian. 27

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nttor (Elaaa Jlrflphmj AS I sit alone tonight, with an aromatic, sweet-tasting El Toro safely ensconsed between my upper and lower maxillary, dreaming day-dreams. 1 hear a soft tinkling of the door-bell. I go to the door. No one is there and looking in all directions and seeing none near. I reason that Poe ' s Raven must have come and nestled upon the bell, the clanging of which drove him from his resting place. But it was not. The smoke emitted from my lips, forms itself into beautiful, almost ethereal ringlets and, being wafted by the slight breeze, settles softly on the handle which, in turn, turning, turns the door-bell. I re- turn to my seat, rest my feet on the table, and throwing my chair on its back posts soon enter in the place called Dreamland. Somehow or other, my thoughts seem to linger on the future, what it would be and what it had in store for my fellow beings and incidentally for me. The veil seems to be lifted and the curtain rent in twain. The future stood out before me as a beautiful picture with the cover lifted and exposed to public view. I see it with amazement and yet with pleasure. I think if we could al- ways see plainly what is destined for us, we would take heart and fight life ' s battles with greater vim. Of this picture, the future of my class is the most interesting and of it I am going to disclose the picture. A lady, of middle age, presented the most beautiful spectacle. The life of that lady is a revelation to him who knew her in former years as Miss Anderson. Mrs. Morris is a constant encouragement to her husband as he toils witli the promotion of mankind in view and to others who come in contact with her. I see the city of Nashville, a beautiful metropolis of the great State of Tennessee, grown into gigantic proportions. Sky-scrapers ascend into the heavens, her streets are a thing of beauty, everything shows the touch of a master hand. C. F. McCrory, after battles which would have been unthought of in fiction, rules the business of this famous city. This may seem strange but any man who can make the Cardinal and Cream a business success cannot fail to make the world sit up and take notice. Another scene which is of interest to those desiring civic righteousness appears vivid. Tammany Hall, which has been buffeted about and which with every blow it received strengthened, is at last compelled to recognize a master. Mr. Murray received his early training in politics in the Apollonian Literary Society. There he first received the taste of a political battle and. like a tiger who has killed and sucked the blood of his first victim, he raged for more. Running the gamut of offices which can be held, he finally felt the call for uplift of humanity and thus achieved a complete victory. A third figure, fighting along the same lines, has achieved remarkable success. Mr. Henderson has become one of our greatest corporation lawyers and has rightfully earned the seat of Supreme Justice. Someone has said that the men who do most for our country are not always the most prominent. Humanity ' s greatest friend may be following the plow, working in the factory, or, perchance, teaching the ways of science to un- attentive ears. The career of one of the class of 1914 is a shining example of this class of man. Teaching for a few 29