Wellesley College - Legenda Yearbook (Wellesley, MA)

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Now the fireworks cease to sizzle, the crowd grows quiet, and the boats form a clearly defined star, not far from the boat-house. The Glee Club is rowed out in the rejected and despised tub, the Lume D ' Oro, by a valiant friend of Senior dignity, and the singing begins. We might give many numbers, but forbear for lack of time. The phonograph will furnish only one, which was sung with especial success. The words, set to an old German air, go like this : — May ' 98 be strong To serve and worship long Her Alma Mater, dear Alma Mater. We feel that we must now bring our discursion to a close. With the com- bined aid of our trusty friends, the spectroscope, phonograph and biograph, we hope that we have adequately presented Float in its evolutionary light. We need not spend time in enumerating the manifold causes which enabled this evolution to culminate so successfully in the year of ' 96. ' 98 believes that the unprecedented brilliancy of that occasion was due, first, to one who has devoted much interested time to our athletic development ; and, second (here we speak modestly), to the good appearance of those who rowed in the Speedwell.

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The music this year is very good and strong. After listening to a few old favorites, such as Alma Mater and Lake of Grey, we will present the final portion of our subject, which deals with Float in full maturity. To give an adequate presentation to this most important and significant phase of devel- opment, we shall make use of the biograph, an instrument which is doubtless sufficiently familiar to most of our hearers to warrant no explanation on our part. First of all, see this low, green building skirting the shore on your left. Boat-house, presented by ' 94, murmurs the phonograph, gratefully. Notice the hu ge multitude, armed with white tickets, which has collected to see ' 98 make its first bona fide appear- ance on the lake as an organized class crew. The crowd waits patiently, amid clouds of dust arising from the shore, while the lake is all alive with move- ment and color. Fireworks light up the whole scene. Boats, adorned with lanterns, are floating about. The Hunne- well gondola, with its picturesque gondolier and sombre coloring, lends a special dignity to the scene. In a light cedar boat a certain vivacious person in black and white is being rowed about, amid the myriad canoes, darting hither and thither. She gives a signal, and from the boat-house a long, slender shell shoots out. The people seem pleased as ' 96 pulls away up the lake, showing off a most excellent stroke. ' 97 also receives generous applause as she makes her appearance. Her boat bears upon its stern an ambiguous I. O. U., and is somewhat stained by reason of a certain champagne bath administered in mys- terious fashion, on a summer evening, shortly before tea. Listen, now, to the full clear notes of a brass band stationed on the boat- house. What event does this portend? The ' 98 crew is about to appear on the lake. Thunderous applause greets them as they swing by. Observe their boat, unequaled by any on Lake Waban. Notice the strength of their stroke, the steady, graceful sweep of their oars. The phono- graph is saying, in short, quick gasps, Catch, swing, catch, swing. The crowd is wild with excitement. Admiring shouts can be heard. Indeed, do they speed well, says the pho- nograph, with full and ear- nest conviction. Our friends of ' 99 are here, doing nobly in gym. suits of sober blue. Their efforts are really praise- worthy, and give evidence of what we may expect from them in June, ' 97. But what have we here? A long shell filled with stalwart girls, in white sweaters and true new woman bloomers, goes swiftly by. What strength of back, what depth of chest, what breadth of shoulder, what width of waist, is here ! Hear the shouts now given forth by our phonograph: Varsity Crew of Wellesley College. Bravo !

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The Rhyme of a Radiator Or The Digs Despair 1 O ' er my last brief I bend. Hard work without end Seems piled up before me ; A dark cloud hangs o ' er me Of papers increasing And grinding unceasing. But while lessons lower, For this quiet hour I ' m mightily glad. While time ' s to be had I study and plan As hard as I can. But alas ! I ' m not done, — Not fairly begun, When — portent so drear — There falls on my ear A faint murmuring hum, — And I know what ' s to come. This hum quickly grows to a loud steamy hiss, All sizzling and gurgling (no sound to miss). Then a sudden loud thump Makes us start with a jump. ' Tis the prelude insane of its demon-like working. Now it really commences its cranking and jerking : Its creaking and pounding, and wild rattling din, With wheezing and grinding and grating within. A hoarse iron chatter — A fierce, jarring clatter ; — Then a crash and slow bang, — An ear-splitting clang, — 1 With thanks to its contributor, formerly of : And then follows a series of deafening explosions, Of smashing and thundering iron commotions, Metallic collisions with racket and storm, Like ferocious attacks of a fierce battering ram ; Now louder and faster comes pound upon pound — Confusion poured forth in a chaos of sound. When! ! ! Of a sudden silence falls again. I all exhausted turn my fevered brain Again to my forensic ; but alack ! From my weary head Each precious thought has fled, And for to-night at least ' twill not come back.