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Show COLLEGIATE LIFE <br><br> Vacate. It was a problem to know where we were move to, but that didn't seem to trouble the inspector any. The old Octagon seemed the only possibility, and in the fall, when school opened, it saw the boys once more driven from their home, and forced to take refuge there. The old house had been made as presentable as possible, but still we did not feel that the boys were living in the state and splendor that they deserved. All sorts of things happened--the water froze in the pipes, the kitchen took on the appearance of a skating pond, the earthquake came, and the fourteen outside doors let in the breezes, and let out the boys, at unseasonable hours. <br><br> S. L. H. S. student to a C. I. student: "Your school never turns out a gentleman."<br> Smart C.I. student (dryly) : "No! Our school allows gentlemen to go on and graduate." <br><br> For as many yeas as any persons connected with the Collegiate Institute can remember there has stood, on the north side of the grounds, an old stage-coach. It used to run between Ogden and Salt Lake in the days when there were no railroads. Its round body and heavy, old-fashioned wheels made it an interesting old thing, reminding one, as it did, of the days of stage-coach hold-ups and Indian fights. It would have been well worth preserving, but it was neglected just too long. Somebody, taking advantage of the fact that it was Hollowe'en, dragged it out into the middle of the field, and filling it with brush and wood, set it on fire. The faculty were giving a party to the students that night, every one rushed to the windows or out onto the back porch to see what was going on. <br> The coach was brightly ablaze, lighting up the grounds and the surrounding buildings. Soon the flames took a firmer hold, and shot up into the air, veritably licking the heavens, while threatening to melt a lead telephone cable which spans the filed. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight, the blaze shooting out from every part of the coach, the sparks flying high up into the sky, while the whole neighborhood was thrown into bold relief by the light from the burning relic. For some time it burned so, holding the attention of all the students, then the top fell in and threw up an immense shower of sparks. After that the flames subsided slowly, finally dwindling to a pile of glowing embers. Although Mr. Crosby, the owner, tried to put it out with a hose it was still smoking when we came to school next morning. <br> While the fire provided us with a great deal of excitement, we cannot but think that it was an unnecessary piece of vandalism. The coach was far more interesting before burning than after. Before burning it was a relic of interest to all, after burning it was a nuisance to the football team because they had to clean up the remains. <br> Phahtus and Beau Meanest walked to Provo last Friday and Saturday. They returned very enthusiastic, something unexpected happened when one considers the town and the persons. They usually keep such articles in Provo when there they get them there. They reported themselves in good conditions except for Beau's feet, which were somewhat tattered. We advise him to use Blue Jay Corn plaster. <br> Heard after Rhetoricals: "That fellow's speaking reminds me of a steam boat on the Arkansas river I used to know of." <br> "Why."<br> "It had a 10-foot boiler and a 12-foot whistle, and when it whistled it stopped." <br><br> Ed Davis -- Possum. <br> Goble -- "Turkey." <br> Jim Ashton -- Beau Meanest. <br> Jack Allen -- Phatus. <br> Elmo Crandal -- St. Elmo <br><br> |
