Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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It was early in February, ’83, that a majority of the members of the class of ’86 bade their adieux to their lassies at the old homesteads, and later released their grips from their satchels, and beheld, some for the first time, “Old Worcester” and that institution towards which our thoughts had been turning, and for an entrance to which we had been “cramming”—The Tech. The following day we were ushered into the presence of his “awfulness,” and after a few preliminaries, were informed of the order of our examinations. Even in this first registration the traits of some of our heavy men were strangely defined, for it is reported that in reply to the question, “ What is your purpose in coming to this school ? ” one said, and truly, as it was afterward learned, “because he was sent”; another, “because he had nothing else to do”; ' and a third, “in order that he might gain a technical education that would be a blessing to himself and friends.” Then we were examined, and in good shape, too, first by Prof. Eaton, who treated us tenderly, as we ought to

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2 d. — Ye Senior to Ye Prep. You have put to me a query Which has long been known to fame; Many a brain lias been made weary, Searching for their proper name ; Hunting for an appellation, Which should all their traits include, Till, with sudden inspiration, They evolved the name of u Dude.” When you once have fully fathomed All this wondrous name implies, Creatures such as you see yonder Never more will cause surprise ; For it means a human being Once with senses furnished well, Now transformed, by Fate’s decreeing, To a brainless, useless swell, 16

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have been, and so at once he gained the good will of the class, which, we are sure, still remains by him, and it is also with pleasure that we now look back on the hours spent under his most successful assistant, Prof. C. A. Clough. Then Profs. Sinclair, Alden and Smith gave us inter¬ views, and the “War in Anam,” “Compound Interest” and “Roger Williams” were talked over, chiefly by the profs. Then, “may the gods protect us,” er-er-Uriel stepped upon the stage, and his selections from “The Standard Authors” fell upon our ears with an awe which afterward turned to laughter. At this time we were not aware how essential he was (?) to the Tech, in general, but we were of his pomposity. Later in the day we were gathered as sheep by our good doctor, and after a few instructions upon our expected behavior, “substantially as set forth,” we were sent to our rooms with the hope that home-sickness would not o’ertake us. What dreams did not o’ertake us that first night of our ‘salad days, when we were green,” as students of the Tech ! It is told “upon honor” that a prominent pugilist of our class was found that night vainly endeavoring to force a carpet bag through a key-hole by means of a broom, and when awakened, he asked feebly, “ If the Junior was dead yet,” when it was ascertained that he 18