University of Maryland College Park - Terrapin / Reveille Yearbook (College Park, MD)

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Our social life! Ah, our social life! It is, indeed, true that man is a social being. Our whole college life has been wrapped up in social functions dances, hops, pink teas and midnight feasts. From Hyattsville, from Berwyn, from Riverdale and from the very Park itself come little pink, aromatic evidences of our sociability. Still there were some in our class, some men who possessed no small amount of common sense, men upon whose judgment one could generally rely, who for three years successfully resisted the Sirens of Hayttsville, but in their Senior year, lulled into apathy by a false sense of security, they were drawn into the maelstrom of society. 1 cannot imagine a sight more full of pathos than that of a strong man being led astray by such a puny force. And what is love? Love in the hands of an amateur is a loaded pistol, a dangerous toy. Love but it is not my intention to moralize on love. I frankly admit that I ha ve never been within its dangerous embrace, and so, according to our esteemed friend Reuleux, I am not in a position to criticise. It is true that to successfully combat an enemy we should study him thoroly, but not so love. A man in love is com- parable to a man intoxicated — he knoweth not what he doeth, and the nature has provided him with two legs for the express purpose of moving from place to place, he persistently attempts to walk on his head, and as a consequence views the world topsy-turvy. No ! No ! Hearken to one who has never been beguiled into Circe ' s enchanted palace, and shun love as you would the devil. Avaunt! Avaunt! Delusive love! I ' ll none of thee! Our Senior year, tho giving rise to some new joys, has been replete as well with sorrows. Regretfully did we tear down our highly-colored ideals and bury them deep in the darkest recesses of our inmost selves, never, we fear, to be resur- rected. On every hand our illusions came tumbling down upon our heads, crush- ing the spirit within us, and fortunate was he, indeed, who could adjust himself to this new condition and still look hopefully forward. What a gulf separates the college life of M. A. C. from the college life we used to dream of. It is so exceedingly prosaic, after all ! Yet we have compensating pleasures. Our seniority has given us the whip hand in college affairs. Our grave responsibilities and important trusts have swelled us with dignity and pride, tho weighting us down with cares. Still, with the ever recurring thought that in June we will be free — what a misuse of the word free ! — new life springs into our beings. But as the fatal hour approaches, our hearts begin to soften, and in the smoke which lazily floats from our long-stemmed pipes we see the future. We see the star leafed gums which we planted along the avenue and the maples which we inserted with such care around the tennis courts grown into flourishing trees. Then we picture ourselves visiting our former haunts, ruminating upon our desperate escapades and frequent depredations, and wondering why in the world we were never hanged, for then we shall see ourselves as others see us now. 22

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classes above remained unanswered. As Sophomores, for the first time within the ken of man, the Juniors acceded the championship in football to us without a contest. And as Jun iors we covered ourselves with glory, and drunk with the praise of the multitude we left the gridiron. Our trackmen, too, have broken fast records at their discretion, for it is not said of us that ' ' the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong; and to-day the baseball banners which we have fought so hard to win completely drape the reception hall. From the first we have been a precocious class. Our intellects are wonderful. In their ability to comprehend and in their power to originate our brains are without a peer. Versed in the lore of the ancients and familiar with the science of the moderns, we can discuss intelligently the most abstruse subjects. Our verdicts are final. There is no appeal. Our logic is without flaw and, indeed, fatal to many. We can convince any rational person in five minutes ' time that the flag pole on the campus is planted upside down, that our mess-hall milk is watered, and that our entire faculty are fools. We look upon the pigmv race of men above us with mingled scorn and pity. Galling as it is to our finer sensi- bilities to be compelled to sit at the feet of ignoramuses, our generous natures overmaster us, and it is with infinite patience and calm resignation that we bear with our poor, deluded professors. Vain, are we? Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, said Solomon; but Solomon is mistaken. We are not vain; for, accord- ing to a later poet, A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, Drink deep or taste not of the Pierian spring. And, like true philosophers that we are, we have studiously refrained from moist- ening our parched lips. What profiteth it if a man gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Herein lies the whole sercet of our success. Our every act, our every deed has been colored bv moral sentiment, high and lofty. Without ostentation, vet with pardonable pride at our forbearance, we flaunt our white badges to the wind. No flaming letter burns in scarlet shame upon our breast, and we defy anvone to point his finger of detection and say, This one was dishonest. Unpatriotic we mav be called, but patriotism, according to our view, is something more, some- thing higher than mere alcohol. Yet rising as we do above the sordid cares of men and viewing ourselves without the interference of the proverbial beam, we see several disfiguring specks upon our otherwise spotless character. For, alas, it is painfully true that during our stewardship We have done those things which we ought not to have done, and have left undone those things which we ought to have done.

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In order that this history may be complete, it becomes my unpleasant duty to eject my classmates, including myself, from this stronghold of education. Immediately upon the completion of our commencement exercises we each and every one of us tied up his sheepskin in the folds of a handkerchief, fastened the letter to the end of the adventurer ' s stick, slung it military fashion across his right shoulder, and separately sallied forth to seek our fortunes; some to return to the farm, some to the forge, and some to draw their swords afresh. With heavy step and saddened hearts we went out from these gray old walls, and never till then did we realize that we were leaving behind us forever our beloved kinswomen — our faithful Alma Mater. So, one and all, we were swallowed up in the great world about us, in which we were to find many other great men beside ourselves. Historian, ' 08. 23