COLLEGE ATHLETICS. 



327 



geon, Dr. Daniel B. Spence; Recording 

 Secretary, Edward G. Rowland; Financial 

 Secretary, Robert Drennan; Treasurer, 

 John G. Beck; Measurer, William Reed; 

 Steward, William G. Wilson. 



Board of Directors — William H. Flitner, 

 David R. Thorn, Jr., Charles H. Hitkin, 

 Andrew G. Van Alst, George N. Drennan, 

 Dr. D. B. Spence, Edward G. Rowland, 

 John G. Beck, Walter G. Flitner, Robert 

 Drennan, Robert Veitch and Henry J. 

 Miller. 



The following committees for the year 



have just been appointed by President Nor- 

 man S. Dike, of the Dyker Meadow Golf 

 Club, Brooklyn: Greens Committee — W. B. 

 Crittenden, William A. Putnam, Charles 

 Adams, Duncan Edwards and Edward 

 Kalbfleisch, Jr. House Committee — Carl 

 H. De Silver, S. Coit Johnson, W. C. Wal- 

 lace, Graham F. Blandy and William Beard. 

 Handicap Committee — F. J. Phillips, Dun- 

 can Edwards and Wyllys Terry. Women's 

 Committee — Mrs. William A. Putnam, Mrs. 

 William Beard, Miss Terry, Miss Elizabeth 

 H. Packard and Miss Grace Chauncey. 



THE WOLF'S COMPLAINT. 



W. YOUNG. 



At the break of the morn, midst the sheltering pines, 



A hungry old wolf laid him down. 

 You could tell by his looks he had seen hard lines, 



And he frowned as wolves only can frown. 



A mournful look came in his old yellow eyes, 



A look that seemed far, far away. 

 His only remarks were his long drawn sighs, 



And this, what they seemed to say: 



In the days of the Indians we were strong, 



In the brave but by-gone years, 

 When the Indian warrior sang his song, 



We encored with howling cheers. 



But the white man came with his breech-loading gun, 



His steel-trap, and poisonous bait. 

 Now no longer we're safe where the range cattle run, 



And I tremble to think of our fate. 



O where are the packs of my brave comrades gone 



That I oftentimes met on the trail? 

 No answer comes back. They are dead; there are none; 



And their fate I thus sadly bewail. 



Why is it the white man is ever our foe. 

 And complains of the game that we kill? 



We're not half so bad as some game hogs I know, 

 For we stop when we've eaten our fill! 



But why should I moan? Though our fate is unjust, 

 Man will change not his death-dealing plan. 



Since might must be right, then submit we all must, 

 The wolf, just the same as the man. 



