Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

Page 17 text:

Bv the time the “Second Half” had begun, Our “ Straight-Line Engine ” was finished and run ; From the very first the wheels went round, Without a single jar or pound : As good a way as could be found To prove our work was true and sound. Yes, true and sound without a flaw, From the throttle valve to the governor. And last of all, as the end drew near, And we saw the close of our labors here, We began to work with all our might, “ Antenna’s ” pages to indite ; And to keep them carefully out of sight, Until they could safely come to light, And bear to all who read it o’er The farewell greeting of ’84. — A. D. Stevens.

Page 16 text:

Old Chanvenet’s days thus finally o’er, And Summer vacation gone once more, As Middlers all we now were known ; Middlers, to whom no love is shown, Middlers, who have to “go it alone,” And struggle in vain to hold their own Against the force of the rest of the school, Arrayed against them by common rule. Though we had to yield on a standing vote, Yet on other occasions worthy of note, When numbers alone did not decide, Neither Seniors or Juniors, nor both allied, In vain attempts to humble our pride, Could beat us in anything they tried; And the records prove without deceit That the class of ’84 “ couldn’t be beat.” Next term as Seniors we returned, Grave, dignified and somewhat learned, We now began with might and main To exercise both hands and brain. We struggled hard, and oft in vain, O’er formulas for stress and strain; While in the shop we worked like fun, To get our Straight-Line Engine done. On New Year’s eve, with tongues of flame, We hailed the year that bears our name; And from the throng assembled there, Around the bonfires’ brilliant glare, There breaks upon the midnight air The loud, discordant fish-horn’s blare. Announcing to the listener’s ear The advent of another year. IO

Page 18 text:

(Rag! (Rag! (Rag! ’85!! Here we are again, as the clown says in the pantomime. Curtain rises to slow music, and the infant ’85 clutching the apron-strings of its venerable nurse (O. M.) stands disclosed. It is a healthy infant ; it grows and waxes skillful under its nurse’s watchful care and develops an amazing quantity of mechanical genius. It is a plucky infant, moreover, for it fears not to meet its older brethren in the tug-of-war and rejoices as victory roosts upon its banner. With a bound and a yell a motley crowd rush upon the scene. Can these be the tender infants ? What an array! Giants tower amid the crowd; intellectually, physically, morally (?). “Shorties” amble by their side; the masher and the dude walk arm in arm. They are banded firmly together against their common foes. The adverb fiend advances upon them with his ter¬ rific hosts, and the mathematical demon bears down on the trembling youths. At times the conflict rages fiercely, the furious assaults come “within an 11 th ” of making the boys cave in ; but the only (. Kav) (in) is at their head. The conflict thickens. The great struggle is at hand. For five wea ry days the smoke of battle hangs heavy over the scene. Pun. 12