Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

Page 19 text:

At length the smoke lifts, and though the ranks are weakened, the victory is theirs. The scene shifts! ! The brave heroes in plug hats and canes betake them¬ selves from the battle-field to the banquet-hall, where they eat their first class supper. The Spring campaign opened with surprising briskness on the part of the enemy. But fortune smiled, at length, upon the suffering youths. With one grand swoop they fall upon their foe, “ cut him more than half way thro’ on both sides ” and bear him off a captive. The funeral was a grand yet melancholy spectacle. The modesty of ’85 would not allow her to blow her own horn, and so she procured the services of a whole brass band. Our noble chief led the line of march through the town, followed by the mourners and a full-fledged hearse. Thousands lined the sidewalks, while the omnipresent “mucker” expressed his interest in the proceedings in the gay and festive manner peculiar to him. Thus the funeral pageant wended on, and after being- revived by the customary lemonade, filed up the lofty hill on which the last scenes of the tragedy were to be enacted. As the last rose of summer was falling from her with¬ ered stalk, we found that we were Middlers. We have roamed through the fields of Dutch poetry and have torn our hair in trying to imagine how a double curved hyper¬ bolic-paraboloid of two nappes would look revolving about a rectilinear element of the second generation as an axis in space. 13

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

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As Middlers wc feel the dignity of our position. We know that we should be a bright and shining light to the i under classes, and we feel, tho’ we blush to say it, that that light does not need trimming. Manly aspirations begin to surge within our bosoms, and manly beards to sprout upon our chins. As our course thus far has had its varying light and shade, so will the remainder, until that time shall come when in all our scientific glory we burst upon a dazzled world.