Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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3 ° from Mother Goose and Grimm’s Fairy Tales to Homer’s Iliad. But if we must die, we will die hard. We have some remarkable men in ’94. Some who can puff through a blow-pipe or a clay-pipe with equal facility, but prefer the latter; some who can paint beautiful landscapes with lightning rapidity, all that is required being a glue brush and a little sepia. In absence of this, a rag is used, or the color is simply poured on. As a reward, these painters are allowed to make a blue print. This is an exceptional privilege, for ’94 as a class forfeited this right by its general good humor and kind-heartedness in staying away from the exercises so as not to overwork the Instructor. There are also men who can report all done in calculus without even knowing where the lesson is or taking the trouble to open a book. Men who can collect large assortments of minerals without any special effort, all that is required being a quickness of the eye to seize the opportunity and quickness of the hand to seize the min¬ eral. One man can transform in full view of the audience a mineralogical note-book to one in physics, and one has not cut a recitation since he has been in the Institute. In our tastes and inclinations we are mostly Mechanical, and in our excuses we all are. Now and then, however, there are brilliant flashes of originality such as, “ Met my mother-in-law on the way,” “ Detained,” “ Thought I wouldn’t come,” “ Wanted to get another mark.” In our recita¬ tions we are Civil to the core, and Chemists in determining impurities in the Faculty. It was always a source of much perplexity to us why it was that the men in the Tech who had become Seniors had such “ swelled heads.” As we approach that height ourselves we find the reason. The constant intercourse with Instructors suffering from the same malady is the cause. Not full- fledged Professors but ordinary dollar-a-day Instructors, just out of short panta¬ loons. But we form an exceptional class and do not expect to get larger hats for a while at least. We can disintegrate Dutch now, with a dash and vigor hardly to be expected, and translate the language of the calculus ; never whistle in the halls because we do not wish to disturb the office-boy who would think we were brought up in a sawmill. All our spare time is spent in Class-meetings where we get valuable points in oratory and, generally, kicking from Chambers. We have done two things of which to be proud. We have secured a mascot that can talk and have given the Seniors a reception. This mascot

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29 Polly ga wunk, ga wunk, ga wah, Polly ga wunk, ga wunk, ga wah, Ninety-four, Ninety-four, Worcester Polytech, Ninety-four. BOUT the middle of the winter of 1891 we, the Class of ’94, plodded our way up the Tech hill with three objects in view, viz.: to get in, stay in and get out again. The first one was quickly disposed of and now we are attending to the second, that is, a part of us are, while still others are fulfilling the third. After all were safely housed under the wing of the -(he has only one as yet) we looked forward to Half Way Through and a diploma. We have had our sup¬ per and it was a very attractive affair, especially to those who danced about the bon-fire. That was the night of all nights for ’94. The one we had dreamed about and thought about for two years, and now we look back and say, “ If I could only live my life over again.” The other dazzling hope, graduation, and a picture for which to buy a frame, is dashed to the ground. Since becoming used to the Institute and its ways, all prospect of this has disappeared. We meet a peculiar problem on our journey, “ Required the maximum number of graduates from the Class of ’94.” We differentiate (with the pro- foundest respect to that body), calling the Faculty the variable or unknown quantity and find the maximum corresponds to plus (or minus) six. Every few days we find our numbers a few less, sometimes one, again two, or in rare cases seven at once, “but it varies.” We have lost over a third, but are stdl the liveliest class. We also have received the list of our books in the course of our English Literature for our Senior year,—another death-blow. We cannot hope to live through such a chaos of everything

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3i was the chief disturber on the night of the Half-way-through, and made him¬ self quite obnoxious, arousing the ire of the friend of all worthy students. Anticipating fire-arms in the celebration, the janitor was armed with a revol¬ ver to return the fire and shoot down all sundry Techs. The Class, in spite of all the wrongs received from ’93, gave its members a reception, partly to make up for the ice cream and partly to create a more friendly feeling between the two. Much more might be said about our famous class but that will appear next year. Finally, we are the Class of ’94. Give us marks, zeros, or condi¬ tions we are still ’94. Expel us, suspend us for a day or a thousand years, we are yet ’94 and we expect to remain, though few perhaps, a lively and jolly class until we step down and out, and then we are the same old Class. Vive Ninety-four. This class never saw that ice cream. See L’Expose, page 34, foot note.