Go, tell the doctor,
Wherefore the class is dead.

"An idea came floating,
An idea came floating,
An idea came floating,
And struck its empty head."

Each Senior did her part well, maintaining an expression which was the
picture of grief. At the close of the song, Miss Cresswell advanced to the
reading-stand. She assumed an oratorical tone. There was a note of pathos
in all she said. "There came to Exeter Hall some ten months ago," she
began, "the class whose early demise we are now making famous with these
ceremonies. They were young then. They continued to remain young--"

"So young," came in a sad-voiced chorus from the singers.

"They were green,--they remained so until their passing away. I repeat,
they were green--"

"Oh, so green," came the sobbing chorus.

"The faculty looked upon them and sighed, a great sigh of disappointment.
Yet with that noble heartedness, that philanthropic desire to feed the
hungry, clothe the naked, minister unto the feeble-minded which marks our
honored Dr. Morgan and her fellow workers, they took up the burden,
determined to do their best. Yet, despite their great efforts, the class
did not advance as other classes have done. Nor yet could it retrograde
for it stood in a position where any backward movement was impossible. It
was known throughout Exeter as the 'caudal appendage' class, being 'away
back.'

"The Seniors, too, did all that lay in their power to enlighten these
Middlers both intellectually and morally. But our efforts were like
'casting pearls before swine.' The Middlers were not only no better for
our efforts, but seemed wholly unconscious that they stood in need of
moral and intellectual support.

"Yet none of us regret the work that we did in their behalf. We planted
the seed, but the soil was barren. Our efforts toward their cultivation
was like breathing a concord of sweet sound into a vacuum. There was no
volume of matter to perpetuate and carry it forth. It is not that we wish
to censure them. Lacking the capacity to enjoy the higher life of school,
we can not blame them that they amused themselves with mere toys. We
Seniors who wear the philosopher's cap and gown must bear in mind that it
would ill become the clown or jester. We listen to the music which rolls
down the ages; but the tinkle of the bells won the ears of the Middlers.
It is ever so