Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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The largest class in the Institute. The only one—omen of fortune— without a Smith. The class that has Newton, a gentleman with abnor¬ mally developed ambition and feet. We have the only living student that can tell Zulu from Dutch, and, exclusive of Goodrich and Pixley, we number five times as many foreigners as the rest of the Institute put together. We all of us study two hours on mathematics, are certain that there is but one way of forming salts from acids, and hope to graduate in time for the World’s Fair at Chicago, which is to be held in our honor. But the Boynton Hall dish-pan warns us that it is “time to close the exercise,” or rather “ so much for that.” 21

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kin respectively on the xylophone and pipe-organ, and plaintive render¬ ings of “ Wimpleton to Wobbleton ” by the “ Raggle St. Quartet.” Kelley, the $10,000 beauty, gyrated the Crow-war-dance, mallet in hand, and Messrs. Derby and Newton gave fine exhibitions of skilful sparring. The principal amusements were helping Newton, watching Bullard work, and giving Tatman advice on his famous sanitary patent. Sir Isaac’s marriage, and his subsequent manufacture of a “ baby spanker,” lead us along until the religious fever struck. Then for a day or two, more heresy and theology were retailed to excited groups in five min¬ utes, than St. Paul and the Devil could pass a quiz on in a year. Meanwhile, over in Boynton Hall, we had been successfully giving Otis A. Freeman, A. B., lessons in French, when suddenly, for some unaccountable reason, the tables were turned, and the genial Dr. Smith unfolded to us the mysteries of the future tense, and the use of the pro¬ noun on. Some considered this abrupt change in the order of things as going from the sublime to the ridiculous, others as from the frying-pan into the fire. We understand that Rogers belonged to the first class. Then came the sad tale of the Infanta and the garden-wall escapade of Charles, and finally Summer. September brought Farwell’s hat, and under it twenty more would be Juniors. Since that time, nothing very terribly exciting has happened. Dodge and Osterman each once failed to be late ; Coghlin twice an¬ swered to his name without the formality of previously going to sleep, and Clapp has attended one or two recitations this half. Division A on several occasions has known what the lesson was, and five men have written up chemistry experiments after they (the experiments) were com¬ pleted. In January, ’92 and ’93 presented a play for the benefit of the Institute. It was entitled “The Bull and the Bunting, or where did you get that Rag ? ” Messrs. Howe and Mundin took the leading parts in the cast, the latter playing the Bull. They also took parts of neck-ties, shirts, etc. Both players were ably supported by their respective classes. One professor in the audience was completely carried away by the force with which it was enacted. Then we juggled Trig, 23 to o, escorted Marshall to the funeral of Pol Econ, chose a mascot, and at last id nous sommes comme Middlers. And now, what are we ? 20

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is t ’92.—“Heavens! what was that? I swear I heard those sneakers! 2d ditto.—“Perhaps it’s the pair we put on the Christmas-tree. 22