Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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Greedy for more fame, we aspired to the Tennis Championship, and ’91’s Invincible must succumb to the Middler. This, however, is not so very astonishing, when we learn that our champion racquet wielder had taken the precaution to train under the influence of the “ bottle.” ’92 failed to win the football championship, since it was beyond her power to tackle invisible teams. Yet another championship honor decked her brow, when she achieved the unsurpassed record of six straight suspensions in one short week. It was feared that ’92 would not have the required five men to graduate, but happily the absconding settee was returned and riveted to its orig¬ inal place. Upon the reinstatement of the absent ones, we were ready for our “ half-way thro’.” Original to the end, ’92 proclaimed herself a prohibitionist, although the Mascot was constrained to “smile” at the appearance of Roman Punch and cider. The evening was whiled away by admiring our “ razzle-dazzle skirt dansers,” cajoling cops, building bon-fires and floating f lags. The curtain now rises upon a different scene, a scene of carnage. The flag is insulted; we rise to arms, and the first class rush in the history of the school, ensues. This newspaper massacre was ended by a treaty of peace in which full reparation was rendered for all suffered injuries. Our pen has accomplished its work ; we might continue to enumerate future probabilities; we might, in a confidential manner, announce our Theses; we might—but the editor of Aftermath says we won’t, and we desist. 2 5

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Ki! Yi! Yu! Zip! Rah! Zu! P. I., P. I. Ninety-Two. O attempt a description of the many freaks, oddities, and “grinds ” of which the class of Ninety-two is composed, would be to gainsay our traditional superstition. This we are loath to do, since effervescing fortune has covered the class with the froth of prosperity (which will be recognized as a felic¬ itous simile when the character of our Mascot is known). In the light of later history, we were an inconsiderable quantity during the Prep year, hence we will float over those days and drift into the current of the real history of the class. The entrance of the remainder of the men in the following September opened up new fields, and filled the holes in the ball team. Speaking of ball teams, reminds us that ’92, unlike the oyster in the characteristic church stew, is “ in it.” The most surprising event of our Junior days was the defeat of ’90’s “ semi-professionals ” by our boys. ’91 was the next victim, but certain considerations for this class prevent us from enlarging upon its sad defeat, and the series was brought to an end by a hard-fought victory over ’93. ’92’s stock went up, and six of her men held positions upon the Institute nine. 24

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Re ofafe JHiSSfer. I don’t like Trig, it stirs my ire ; Grim Calc there’s no abiding— Straight down the path that leads to “ fire ” On “cuts” I’m sliding, sliding. I don’t like “ Dutch,” it clogs my throat; And while I am confiding, Would’st know the way I kept afloat ? A horse I’m riding, riding. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I get so weary thinking. The Doc tries hard to pull me through, And still I’m sinking, sinking. By George, I have it—just the thing— Could any one be sharper ? Wait ’till you hear my baby sing, Catch on ? ’ be a papa 26