CLASS NIGHT EXERCISES

A Prophecy of the Class of ’91.

By Miss Hilda Busick.

Know All Men By These Presents, that I, having departed this life, have received permission from Pluto, King of the Shades, to return to this world and make known to you, less fortunate mortals, your destiny. While lounging idly on the banks of the “River of Oblivion,” the sovereign of that sunless region permitted me to read in his “Book of Life.” Listlessly turning over the pages I saw a name in bold characters: “W. L. Mason, City, County and State of New York.” Then the pages began to turn of their own accord and the names of my former friends and acquaintances, inter alia, presented themselves in rapid succession.

Mary A. Moore and her husband; John Williamson; our well-known pugilistic friend, John L. Sullivan; a “hen-pecked” Bostonian, and others.

As I read a dim mist seemed to come from the river, causing the words to fade; bona fide pictures arose in their stead.

First. In the famous city of Kroy Wen, stood a large pagoda, on which was emblazoned the startling legend: “College of Stenography, W. L. Mason, President.” At this hour the college doors were open and within could be seen the bulletin of the staff; it was, the President, the right honorable W. L. Mason, D. D., assisted by his able corps of instructors, the professors Massie and Shaughnessy, the latter by their punctuality and the sweet temper of the former, being of the utmost assistance to him. Et signiture was the course.

First Term. Lecture on the Principles of Shorthand, together with practical lessons in disorder, untidiness, negligence, forgetfulness and carelessness, all thoroughly taught in three months more or less.

Second Term. Practice in misapplying all that you have learned, with a view to writing as illegibly and slowly as possible.

Third Term. Literature, the reading of Mother Goose Rhymes in shorthand, and the writing of dime novels for the literature of the 20th century.

The Right Honorable President, as hereinbefore mentioned, is old and decrepit, unable to keep order in his classes, and therefore always carries with him a jumping rope, the handles of which he uses on the knuckles of his unruly pupils, while the rope itself brings to him recollections of his youthful days when it was used for the legitimate purpose for which it was manufactured.

Second. Now the panorama changes and shows a lady of medium height, fair, slight and happy. She walks through one of the crowded streets of Kroy Wen, handing to the passers by circulars which read as follows:

“To the People of the City of Kroy Wen,

“Greeting:

“I beg to notify the public that the first issue of my new paper,—Wit,—will be ready in two weeks and I hereby guarantee to the said public that it will afford amusement, entertainment and instruction, with a special column devoted to Phonography.

“In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, the day and year last above written.

Signed, “C. Cellpur.”

Third. A revolution had evidently taken place in England; the people were clamoring for Constitutional Government. Discussions were loud and prolonged in the “House of Lords.” In the latter, on one of the front benches, sat the stenographer who had been admonished on her life to write the turbulent speeches verbatim. She was our dear friend, Miss Rhythm.

Fourth. An imposing publishing house in the city of Not Sob, which city is noted for its cultured inhabitants. Small boys were placing on the doors and windows of said publishing house, the same to remain thereon without hindrance or molestation, large notices which bore this inscription: “Our most recent publication is a book written by Miss N. Murphie. It is important as a work of art and is an authority on all topics of etiquette, especially as regards language. The cultured inhabitants of Not Sob cannot afford to lose this opportunity of making themselves more familiar with those refinements of speech which have long marked them as the most cultured people in the land.”

Then I saw what seemed to be an illegal document purporting to be a marriage settlement, in which Mrs. Ocean is wisely having her property settled upon herself, mindful of the time when she learned that “What’s hers is his, and what’s his isn’t hers.”

Fifth. A convention of the Woman’s Rights Association. The hall is crowded. Several determined looking women who have already addressed the meeting are on the platform. The audience is breathlessly awaiting the appearance of what Edward Everett Hale calls “A Hen’s Right Hen.” She is at length presented, her remarks are interspersed with legal terms; evidently some part of the training has been at the F. S. & T. C. of the G. S. M. & T. Her talk is upon the uselessness of the male sex and the applause is loud and enthusiastic. Her face and manner are very familiar, and looking at the programme I see that the initials of her name spell H. E. M. P.

Sixth. A copy of the “Post and Lightning;” it is yellow with age. It had probably been handed down from generation to generation as a precious heirloom. The column containing the marriage notices is folded outward, and one marked with blue pencil reads:

“Wolf—Lamb. Mr. F. Wolf to Miss M. Lamb, both of the State of Kroy Wen, May 25th, 912, at the home of the bride.”

“The Wolf had devoured the Lamb.”