172 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN
May 18th.—Club in throes of the report-reading. Hig Hyena gone—where? Like
spring, no one knows. The dear President sits near, giving courage to the Club to pursue
their quarry and run the reports to earth, let us hope not into the ground! Here R. C, P.
Hyena makes a few remarks which I feel bound to copy, viz., “‘ Vice-President more than
usually untruthful and obnoxious. Should be expelled from Club. M. P. getting limper
every moment. The Club feels for her. F. Leopold is now agitating Pleasure-Pain and
Marginal Utility Theories. Feeling of the Club against such subjects, not fit for young and ~
delicate minds.”
The Seal has gone to sleep—overcome by heat and ennut.
This was the last day of the Hyena Log, and in rewriting some of this foolishness which
it gave the Club such delight to compose I here say, as a true Hyena, that it causes me a
pang of very real regret to know that this little organisation is forever broken up and its
members scattered from coast to coast. However, the fun we managed to get out of the
Hyena Club and the bond it made for us—foolish though it was,— will not soon be forgotten
by any of the six. So, in closing this scientifically detailed history of a matter which may
interest, but few of the class, let me give the latest and best cheer of the Hyena Club for one
of its heroes—Herr “Bohm, Bohm, Bohm Bawerk” of Austria!
Marcery SMITH.
