University of Vermont - Ariel Yearbook (Burlington, VT)

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Senior Soliloquy They drift away, Ah, God, they drift forever. As I sit by my iireside on a cold Winter evening and watch the fantastic shadows as they mysteriously weave in and out on the wall, they mingle strangely with my dream as I think how soon I am to leave the dear old college never to return. Little does the student realize the love he holds for his class- mates until the sorry business of parting is at hand. My eyes are dimmed and the shadows blurred as I think of the days of Auld Lang Syne and wish for some good angel to carry me back to my Freshman year. As with half closed eyes I sit and gaze back over the past, strange visions of by-gone days appear to me. Well do I remember that morning four years ago, when we filed into chapel and took our seats under the organ loft for the first time. Methinks I can still feel my bosom heaving with pride as it did then to know that I was a college man and I remember that very night I wrote home to mother telling her to Please don't call me ' 'Willie' any more because all the fellows say 'Bill ! ' I remember that I thought what a stern looking man Prexy was and wondered if I would ever have the courage to speak to him. At that time I really believed the three professors who were present at the chapel were all there were in the University. Our class, so says the ARIEL scribe of '98, has always been a modest class. Surely no one will ever deny us this characteristic. How like the fair for-get- me-not that blushes all unseen is Sammy with his smile and uncollected foot- ball taX ! Where could you find a more ideal type of modesty than in bashful Billy Wlielan, the Apollo of the class ? But no 1nore of this lest we should seem to disprove our modesty by making boast of it ourselves. The shadows deepen and the lights are burning low. A dark cloud hangs over the scene as I look back to our Sophomore year and think how the immodest foot-ball heroes of ,QQ rolled us in the dust to the tune of 12-o. Methinks I still see our manly crew making a futile rush at the ,QQ center with a valor that would have done credit to the I-Iay Hill foot-ball team, only to be piled in a pro- miscuous heap on the earth, while, a little way removed from the general heap, Billy Taylor, complacently seated on Pa Morse's stomach, waits for the melee to straighten itself out. Those were sad days for ,98. 25

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The coals are burning brighter and merrily the shadows dance upon the wall. How plainly do I remember a certain rainy night of March, 1896, when three of our modest heroes departed for Shelburne with one small and veiy much dejected F reshman,-poor, lonely, misguided Teddy,-who was guilty of no other crime than having written a class prophecy for the Freshman banquet on the succeeding night. Well do I remember our subsequent glee over this deed, and the fact that We have bragged Qmodestly of coursej over it ever since, and that, in relating the story, with the same characteristic sense of modesty, We always neglect to boast of the fact that one of our members received a pressf ing invitation to this self-same banquet. M The lights are burning low, the shadows are gone and the fire is dying out. Ah, '98, '98, ye have much to mourn for and n1uch of which ye may Well be proud. Now we are Seniors and the Whole college looks up to us and expects us to be what We are, brave, true, dignified and above all, modest. And When, at last, We bid a fond farewell to the old Mother who has done so much for us, it Will be with aching hearts and the fondest of memories of the days of 'K Auld Lang Synef, 26