University of Massachusetts Amherst - Index Yearbook (Amherst, MA)

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buried in the past. But arising from them come ideas which have changed the whole course of events here at college, and from this changed condition of affairs comes the inspiration that guides the historian ' s pen. The leading events which have characterized the first few years of our college life, have been sufficiently touched upon by previous historians. Last year we were confronted with a Freshman class which as Juniors we felt in duty bound to patronize. The precocious youngsters, however, had such a high conception of their own abilities, and showed so little appreciation of our efforts, that we were obliged to abandon them to a fate that has dealt none too tenderly with them. The following expresses the hopelessness of the task which we had undertaken: One day a piece of pudding-stone Rolled down a mountain side. Breaking the saplings on its way, Unto a valley wide. It stopped before a sculptor ' s door. The sculptor viewed the stone, Crying, oh! what an endless task I have here all alone. To hew from this a graceful form, Can never be my work; Yet will I undertake the task, Not one hour will I shirk. He chiseled off a jagged edge, But disappointment then ; The more he cut away outside, The worse it looked within. Another blow, another edge, The chips flew wide apart, Though skillful he as man could be, In vain he plied his art. At length worn out from ceaseless toil, He laid his mallet down, And went back to his daily work — This sculptor of renown. Feeling that there were a great many matters in which the Faculty could not act, we decided that the student body should themselves take these things in hand. Aided by 1901, we organized a college senate, the workings of which body are too well known to need mention. We sincerely hope that after we have left it, this organization shall continue to exert the same influence which it does at present, in suppressing anything detrimental to the welfare of the College.

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Class History. HEN a class is called upon for the last time to enumerate its victories, to recount its adventures, and to tell again the story of its daring deeds, it can comprehend only to a limited extent the magnitude of the task which it is about to undertake. As it glances at the footprints left in the tortuous path over which it has traveled, it is amazed at the changes which have occurred. Footprints which once seemed printed for all time in the solid rock are now visible only with difficulty. Thus it is with the deeds that once seemed covered with unfading glory ; now they are forgotten. They served a purpose, but the remembrance of them was shortlived. As we view these deeds in the light of after events, they become only sorrowful memories of the past. What is the mission of the final historian ? In summing up the events which have constituted our career, this question presents itself to us: Is it for him to tell of rope-pulls won, or of victorious rushes ? No, for visible evidence of these can still be seen upon the anatomy of our opponents. Is it for him to tell of the struggles and victories of sidewalk-artists ? No, for the old tower standing a sombre sentinel of the night has seen these vic- tories, and now when the shivering Freshman crouches in the darkness near the back-stop, she cheers him up with the tales of these exploits. Is it for him to tell of the midnight rides behind dear old Bishop ? No, it is now too late to repeat the story of these rides, for Bishop has fallen on evil days, and Allen is no longer at hand with picklock and hammer. The Will-o ' -the-wisp no longer delights in startling the skaters, or break- ing in upon nocturnal revelers. The goal-posts no longer bear their yearly burden. The chapel-bell no longer breaks the stillness of the night, awaken- ing the slumberers to the enthusiastic demonstration of campus orators. To none of these things can the historian turn for an inspiration. They are

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As a class we have grown more quiet recently, and the dignity of our changed position has hushed the buoyant exclamations of good feeling that were wont to rush to our lips when we met each other. The progress of time has made many changes in the characters and peculiarities of our individual members. Morton has become a hopeless polyglot, and can think chemically in several languages. George Freeman intends to be a horse- doctor. Mark has changed his ideas somewhat, and no longer intends to be president. At present he represents the class at cattle-shows, and delights in the acquaintance of abnormal tight-rope performers. Mony still keeps the weather factory running, and at regular intervals he publishes an almanac, in which he foretells the coming of the seasons and the recurrence of Sundays. He is very much interested in a small box situated on the edge of the campus, and can be seen going there at odd times daily. As he has been noticed flour- ishing a palmleaf-fan near the door of his box, it is taken for granted that he is experimenting with wireless telegraphy. We might discuss many other celebrities whom we have among us, and find a great many points in which they, too, excel ordinary mortals, but we must pass from the light and trivial to the serious. We are nearing the close of our career as students, and in a short time we shall be known to the College only as alumni. But in this capacity we should be prepared to repay our Alma Mater for what she has done for us. As we go away from these asso- ciations, we, more than anyone else, should be fully alive to what the College needs, and we should do our utmost to have these needs supplied. Let ' s join our hands together, boys, Let laughter loud ring out; Let ' s make the echoes of the night With song and merry shout; Let other classes profit by The lessons we have taught ; And follow close behind us In the path of Naughty-Naught. L