University of Georgia - Pandora Yearbook (Athens, GA)

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In the recitation room the boys of Ninety-Five equalled, if not surpassed any of their predecessors. They showed themselves capacitated for mastering the greatest scientific and literary problems. So brilliant arc their intellects and so studious have they been, that many arc the pebbles which they have gathered from the vast shore of truth. In the halls of the literary societies their eloquent voices and their logical arguments are admired by all who hear them. In athletics the class of Ninety-Five is also great. In its freshman year it furnished one of the members of the University foot-ball team. Since then many of its members have fought nobly on the gridiron to maintain the honor of the foot-ball team of the University of Georgia. On the diamond they were still greater. When but freshmen they victoriously carried carried off the pennant; but since then fate has been against them, still they always held second or third place. Two years in succession the Class of Ninety-Five has given to the 'Varsity foot ball team its captain. And now the happy days of our college life have passed. Four years have been spent within the walls of the University of Georgia. How anxiously we have looked forward to the day on which shall be placed within our hands the long wanted “dip.” But nearer and nearer came that day, the less and less we wished for it; for how true it is that the things that are the furthcrest from our possession are the things we wish for most. And with the closing of our college days many a pleasure will end ; but our course at college is over, and before us spreads wide the sea of life, on which we must sail our ship. Deep is that sea and boisterous are its billows, but the boys of Ninety-Five prepared themselves well at the University of Georgia, and they will safely steer their ship across life’s boisterous sea; and when they will have reached yonder farther shore, each will anchor his ship in the harbor of eternal honor. 25

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 Ebc Junior The Junior, oh! the Junior, The best, the only class ; The Senior is conceited, The Freshman is an ass, The Sophomoric fellow, His faults he cannot screen, Is neither white nor yellow, But simply, slightly green. The Junior is perfection; The Faculty’s delight, He can cut cross-sections Completely out of sight. He’s long since cut Lucy Cobb, And snows may come and go, “Species of ice” at “town toughs,” The Juniors never throw. He never tricks, cuts nor crams; Finals are his delight; He goes to bed at nine p. m. And sleeps the livelong night. His drink is strickly H, O, Dispensary’s unknown; He never speaks to Freshmen, His “wild oats” arc not sown. He loves to woo the maidens, And break their little hearts, He is certain to accomplish Whatever he once starts. And so the festive Junior Is worshipped all around. He’s the pride of college And just the toast of town. By One of Them.