Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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remaining awake through one consecutive hand. The quartette favored the party with a couple of hymns, bringing in the class yell very prettily. Then as the curfew was tolling the solemn hour of eleven, the back door opened softly and five men, carrying suspicious bundles under their arms and still more suspicious looks on their faces, sneaked out into the snowy snow. The fitful gleam of a neighboring street lamp gave a wierd appearance to the shadowy forms that sped along the deserted road. The noiseless tread, the mysterious bundles, the hooded spectres, the awful solemnity of time and pace, rendered the deed still more uncanny. On the face of each traveller rested a look of determination, of heroic exultation, such as the melancholy Hamlet must have assumed when he seized Shylock by the throat and cried, “Ha! Alonzo von Gabbo, 1 have thee now.” The wintry breezes whispered like young cyclones among the trees, while the sweet-scented “strawberry and vanilla mi.xed flavored the air. On, on strode the dauntless five, while their gleaming eyes seemed to speak in words of fire; “Equal division of property; down with the Middlemen.” Ever and anon from their parted lips came at equal intervals the hurried breath that told of fast-departing strength and the stern yet noble sentiment: “ Rebboli’s or bust.” i8

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(3) Whist,

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' N the following Tuesday evening a goodly company of Socialists attended Robert Mantell’s performance of the “Corsican Brothers,’’ at the Theatre. It has always been very evident that the Socialists of ’92 prefer comedy to high tragedy, and for this reason their magnanimous spirit on this occasion was something remarkable. Had Mr. Mantell known to whom he was indebted for being brought before the curtain he would probably have furnished bo.xes for the Socialists at the succeeding performance; but it was impossible for a party of long-haired champions of justice to let such fencing and knife-flying go on without d ue appreciation. Affairs were now very quiet till Feb. 13, when the already famous Socialists received invitations to amuse the Home-School. After being receiveci by Miss Kimball and the young ladies piesiding, the evening’s fun began. Hats were passed around, a basket of ribbons was placed in the centre of the floor, and the signal was given to the young and pretty milliners. Of course, the other young ladies thought each one would walk up very respectfully, select ribbons and betake himself to a corner. But, no; scarcely had the basket been left alone when there followed a scene that must have forcibly reminded the spectators of a foot-ball game. First there was an instant’s silence, then the basket began to shiver, immediately afterward the house shook as the Socialists tripped gaily across the floor. Talk about a cane-rush, why it was nothing to this one. All the great charges of history, the charge of Balaklava, the plumber’s charge, in fact everything sinks into comparative insignificance when compared to this onset. The young ladies stood aghast, then almost screamed with laughter as 19