Page 54 - 1933

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The banquet in the evening was a great success; over three hundred were present
there and at the entertainment in Alumni Hall later.
And so the dying year closed with a blare of trumpets and a beautiful
sunset. Commencement Day fell warm and cloudless, we stuffed ourselves
beneath the greendeaved elms in the Grove at that last meal, and waved a fond
adieu until the next fall.
IV.

Up the walk to the well-known buildings straggled a group of boys who,
during the ensuing year, would make up the Junior Class at Moses Brown. It
was still September, but our importance stood out all over us even then. Were
we good! Not mere children any more, but the "big shots,” except for that one
measly bunch who didn’t really matter much!
Once we had stepped into the corridors we noticed several changes. Every­
thing had been painted in anticipation of a banner year. Mr. Cate had a new
classroom and no longer had to spring ten feet in the air to bag the map of
France, as he was wont in the frail Arch Room. Our Fourth Form corridor was
remodeled, and we had a new master in charge, a mild, meek fellow, whom, it is
reputably reported, J. A. M. promptly dubbed "Bosco” for some hazy reason.
The passing of time has made this name stick, and now also we know Mr.
Newlin better. Incidentally, the Guilford Ghost’s specialty was the sciences, as
many of us found out too soon.
Then there was a new lanky bozo who stretched as far as Tityon himself
and who loved to stride into Room 4 on time now and then. He was the
"Cannon Ball’s” side kick, and did he spout French fresh from the University
of Nancy—absolument, bien sur! "Uncle Teddy” soon became his sobriquet.
He used to have a French session at nine o’clock at night in his room on the
Senior Corridor, but Ed Wynn is reported to have broken it up too often for
comfort and advancement.
For regular English little Artie Newcomb, or "Newkie” was our instructor,
and for themes we had the sedate, awe-inspiring Mr. Paxton, of whom we had
been warned for so many years by previous classes. How we longed for the
"Smoothie,” who used to put us at ease with his often-quoted phrase from his
perch on the big desk, "Has everyone got their book?” But he was gone to
where we all are destined. Newkie and Willie got us through the year once
our poor hearts had been healed.
Alack and alas! Heu et Heu! Geometry! Who was that personification of
Einstein who was to terrorize us in good old Room 11 for the next nine months?
Why, don’t say!—Yes— it is "the Babe,”— "the Babe,” and boy, could he dish
it out! His idea of time saving was to gaze fixedly at his wrist watch as we
entered the room each day, and then when at last quiet had settled in, to say,
"We-11-1, it took just two minutes, seventeen and seven-eighths seconds for this

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