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Vol. 15 OCTOBER, 1910 No. 1

CONTENTS

Welcome (Poem) Lelia White, 'ii page

Cornelia Phillips Spencer — W. C. Smith 1

A Glimpse of Madeira and Algiers — Margaret Cobb, '12 4

Twilight {Vo&m)— Nan Lacy, 'ii 10

The Realization— iS'. Rose Batterham, 'ii 11

The Forgery — Georgie H. Faison, '11 16

When Mizpah Ann Packed — Mildred Harrington, '13 25

Sara Thinks — Margaret Cobb, '12 31

Sketches —

"And the Goblins'll Get You if You Don't Watch Out". 40

Childhood— iJf. B.J., '11 43

Editorial —

Price of the Magazine 44

A Welcome to the New Members of the Faculty 45

The Students' Council . 45

The Girls' Sitting Rooms 45

College Democracy 46

Y. W. C. A..— Natalie Nunn, '11 48

Athletic Notes —

Welcome by the Athletic Association

Annie Louise Will^, ''11 . ... 49

A Camping Trip 49

Society Notes —

With the Cornelians — Lelia White, ^11 52

With the Adelphians — E. Rose Batterham, ^11 52

Among Ourselves — Margaret Cobb, ^12 54

Faculty , 55

Alumnae 56

Class of 1909 56

In Lighter Vein — Clyde Fields, '12 57

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CORNELIA PHILLIPS SPENCER

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VOL. XV GRECNSBORO, N. C. 0CT0BE:R, 1910 NO. 1

Cornelia Phillips Spencer

W. C. Smith

Cornelia Ann Phillips, the youngest child of James and
Julia Phillips, was born in Harlem, New York, March 20,
1825. In May, 1826, while yet an infant in arms, she was
brought by her parents to Ohapel Hill, N. C, at which place
she continued to reside during the greater part of her long
and useful life. Her father, a man of great intellectual
power, was, for forty-one years. Professor of Mathematics in
the University of North Carolina. Her two brothers. Dr.
Charles Phillips and Dr. Samuel F. Phillips, were also pro-
fessors in the same institution.

Like her brothers, Cornelia was indebted to her mother for
her earlier insitruction. Later she kept abreast of her brothers
in the classical course of the University by studying with them,
and under the instruction of her father. In keenness of in-
tellect, in force and vigor of understanding, and in scholarly
attainments she was, perhaps, not one whit inferior to the male
members of her distinguished family. Indeed, if we are to
accept the testimony of her contemporaries — and it is the
testimony of able and conservative men — this modest and un-
assuming woman gave the state the most eminently useful
mind ever dedicated to its service.

In 1853, Cornelia Phillips was happily married to James
Spencer. With him she settled in Clinton, Alabama, where
she remained until his death in 1861. One child was born of

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this marriage ; — Julia — later the wife of Professor James Lee
Love, of Harvard University.

The next thirty-three years of Mrs, Spencer's life were
spent in North Carolina, and they were years of abundant
usefulness. Her influence upon men and events in North
Carolina during the critical period of Civil War, and the yet
more critical period that followed, was possibly second only
to that of Swain and Vance. The list of public men, — govern-
ors, statesmen, jurists and university presidents, — who sought
her advice is a long one. Particularly efficient were her labors
in behalf of thei restoration of the University. She loved it
with a devotion unsurpassed by any of its sons and served it
with a loyalty and unselfishness which no words can adequately
express.

Mrs. Spencer wrote much, but only a small part of her
work has been published in enduring form. Her writings
consisted, for the most part, of weekly letters and obituaries
appearing in the newspapers, and historical and biographical
sketches written for the University Magazine. For a number
of years she was a regular contributor to the columnsi of the
North Carolina Presbyterian, and her articles were the feature
of the paper. The writer of this all-too-brief and inadequate
sketch well remembers with what delight he would turn on
Sabbath afternoons from goodly doses of the Westminster
Catechism to Mrs. Spencer's letter, as read aloud to the assem-
bled family circle from the latest number of The Presbyterian.
In later years, too, he was much indebted to the same facile
pen for valuable information relative to our state history.

Space does not permit me to speak of Mrs. Spencer's pub-
lished works, her Last Ninety Days of the War and her First
Steps in North Carolina History. Rather, in conclusion — if
the indulgent editors will grant me a conclusion — would I
speak of the homeliness — used in the original sense of the
word — of this unassuming gentlewoman. Hers was no feverish
struggle for public or social recognition, but the quiet, useful,
happy life of the Southern house-mother. Masculine in the
force and vigor of her understanding, she was yet a thoroughly
womanly woman and feminine in her instincts. Her home

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was the model and the despair of good housewives, and the
hand that penned burning words to the people of her beloved
state, calling upon them to rise with renewed hope and zeal
and patriotism from the ruin of war and its aftermath, was
instant in good works among the helpless and the lowly. She
lived her life and did her work quietly and unobtrusively,
giving no occasion to any to speak reproachfully. In brief —
she was an embodiment of those virtuesi which, let us hope,
will never become obsolete and which, exemplified in any
woman, will make the world the better for her having lived.

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A Glimpse of Madeira ak.nd Algiers

Margaret Cobb, '12, Adelphian

The islands and towns unfrequented by the common herd
of tourists are the most delightful places on the Southern
Route from America to Europe, If you go that way be sure
to stop at Madeira and Algiers. We enjoyed them as much as
any place in Europe.

When we woke up one morning and found ourselves lying
off Funchal you can imagine how excited we were. For six
whole days there had been only the open sea to greet our
eyes; and the foreign scene was forgotten in the greater joy
of being so near land again. Then the quaintness of the land-
scape dawned upon us. Against the clearest, deepest, most
intense blue sky was outlined a mountain peak, not bare and
rugged, but covered with verdure. At the foot of the mountain
nestled the daintiest little town imaginable. Never a dark or
sombre color was visible against the cool green of the mountain
side. The whole town was a riot of color — here a house of pale
pink and beside it one of sky blue with buff trimmings. Such
rainbow tints were everywhere save in the heart of town
where the gray stone fort and governor's mansion dominated
the surroundings. This was the Madeira of our dreams !

When we finally calmed down enough to buy "Reid's
Shore Excursion" tickets, the boats were already coming out
to take us ashore. They were tiny rowboats that drew up
alongside of the ship 's ladder and the jump necessary to reach
them did not look inviting to the timid. All did get off, how-
ever, and the ocean swells were not so dreadful at close range.

A row of ten minutes brought us out of the ocean and
across the harbor to a very shaky-looking wooden pier.

Upon alighting we were met by white-clad guides who
led us through the crowds of curious natives to our convey-
ances. These proved to be sleds drawn by bullocks. The sled
was more like one of our carryalls with a white canopy over
it and runners, instead of wheels, attached than anything
else — and the bullocks! Imagine two of our largest steers,

STATE NOEMAL MAGAZINE

minus all their fire, with a cloth covered log binding them
together, drawing a sled! The drivers themselves were as
strange as their vehicles and charges. Their queerly-cut and
queerly-colored trousers, thin white blouses with bandana neck-
chiefs and Roman scarfs knotted around their waists, and last
of all, the tremendous ear-rings — all these, with the swarthy
countenance of our drivers, made a foreign spectacle indeed.

Before long we were off for the funicular station, the
drivers urging their brutes on with spiked sticks. Our con-
veyance was not at all uncomfortable as we had expected,
for the runners skidded over the cobblestones without a
single bump. As we seemed to see nothing but sleds my
curiosity got the better of me and was awarded with the
following information. Portugal levies a very high tax on
each wheel of a conveyance, so, to escape this, most of her
island possessions use two-wheeled carts, while some, like
Madeira, use sleds almost entirely.

Regretfully we left our ingenious carriage and entered the
funicular station. As the car was too full we decided to shop
and wait for the next one; any woman would go wild with
admiration for the Madeira shops. There you find the most
beautiful embroideries offered for a mere song. We did not
have time to do much shopping, so with a few hurried pur-
chases we found our way back to the station and were soon
started on our journey up the mountain.

We rode backward to get the view and were indeed
amply repaid. By the time the outskirts of town were reached
we could see far out over the bay. Higher and higher we
went, passing terrace after terrace overhung with pink and
red geraniums and blue plumbago, between gray stone walls
so warm and inviting looking as they generally are cold and
repulsive. As we neared the end of our ascent the whole
valley and bay lay at our feet. Below us was the sea, as
calm as glass and as blue as only a tropical sea can be ; then
there was the town as quiet and happy as only a tropical town
can be. From the pale glaring colors of the town it was quite
a relief to rest your eyes on the cool green slope with its
terraces well marked by the gay-colored flowers.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Upon leaving the car we wandered through the strange
and beautiful hanging gardens, then up a winding road on
the mountain side. When we reached a little stone balcony
we stopped to rest. The little balcony cut out of the mountain
overlooked a great meadow and grove, where on the approach-
ing feast of St. John the Baptist the annual feast would be
given to every man, woman and child on the island. Hunger
did not let us tarry long, so we went back in search of some-
thing to eat. Our lunch was served on a terrace overlook-
ing the hanging gardens, from whence we afterwards picked
gardenias without once being told to keep off the grass or
not to disturb the flowers. The whole island was so full of
blossoms that the people did not have to consider such a
thing as protecting them.

Now comes the most interesting part of our visit. When
it was time to turn our faces seaward we did not return by
the funicular, but tobogganed down the mountain. The
toboggans were of wicker work and looked like great arm-
chairs put on runners, a heavy rope was attached to the back
of each toboggan and by these the men guide their course.
After cautioning them to go slowly we resigned ourselves to
the tender mercies of these guides.

Down a winding path paved with cobblestones we glided
between walls overhung with myriads of flowers, here and
there a quaint old gateway revealing the gardens within.
Every turn was a picture to rejoice the eye of the most critical
artist. The air was heavy with the odor of heliotrope and
oleander blossoms. While lost in dreaming over all this
loveliness we were suddenly jerked to a standstill. Our
guides pointed to a wineshop inside a garden and insisted
that we should all, including themselves, have drinks. At
first we were rather frightened, but the sight of some Ameri-
cans just behind renewed our courage. With a little silver
we pursuaded our worthy friends that we should continue
our journey and in a few more minutes we reached the streets
of the town again.

Dismissing the guides we wended our way to the wharf
via the shops, thence to the ship and dinner, where every-

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one regaled everyone else with exclamations over the geomet-
rical designs of the paving stones and the quaint ways of
island hosts.

After Madeira it was a short visit to Gibraltar, then
phosphorescence on the Mediterranean. Next day, however,
it was hot and sultry. Everyone on board was impatient for
sight of land again. Each passenger on the great ocean liner
visited the bulletin-board and paced the deck, by turns.
"Have you learned the latest?" you are asked. "We don't
get to Algiers until half -past twelve o'clock. At first they said
it would be half-past eight, then they shoved it up to ten,
and, according to the way things are going it will be mid-
night when we really get there ! It is too bad, after we went
so far out of our course to get to the place ! ' '

But all the efforts of the passengers did not prevail against
the strong head wind. It was almost five in the afternoon
when the cry went around that we could really see the coast
of Africa. The deck was soon alive with men. women and
children, all eager for a glimpse of that most foreign of all
shores.

At first the land was such a speck on the horizon that
we were inclined to doubt if there was anything really there.
It was not long, though, till the speck grew into a long line.

When we could distinguish a few things we were dread-
fully disappointed — just a stretch of hot sandy hills ! Gibraltar
was much nicer by far. But around that point of land, you
could not believe it was the same country ! A silvery crescent
of beach and the sand-colored line of hills framed the most
beautiful picture you can imagine. Green everywhere — and
yet such a different green from any you have ever seen. A
great grove of trees and the most luscious-looking grass, so
cool and restful, offer a greater lure to the weary traveler
than ever siren did. A little farther on we saw a house among
the trees, pure and dazzling white. — It was all in a few
minutes that we saw it, and yet, in that time we entered

another world. I couldn't tell you where the difference was

the house, the trees, the grass, all seemed to fit an Arabian
fairy tale.

STATE NOEMAL MAGAZINE

This scene was followed by many others as strange and
as beautiful, until hungry mortals went below to refresh them-
selves and regain their impatience for Algiers.

There was no disappointment this time, for, turning a
curve in the shore, we beheld the great white city of our
desire lying before us in the twilight fast falling after a
brilliant sunset. Far around the edges of the bay and up to
the tops of the hills stretched an unending array of white
buildings — not a touch of color save where a clump of trees
offered their deep shadows. Through the enveloping gray-
ness, here and there, a light twinkled from the window of a
white mansion. All was as still as a city of the dead save
for the clang of an occasional brightly lighted American
street ear. The spell of the silent city seemed to fall upon
everyone, for the disembarkation was effected very quietly.
Tiny lighters as snow-white as the houses came noiselessly
along-side, and as noiselessly drew away with their loads.

As you blink at the lights on the wharf a swarm of
turbaned street venders, chatting like magpies, offer their
wares. Anything oriental is at your disposal, from Venetian
glass beads and American baubles to some real oriental
curiosities.

As soon as possible in such a crowd you find yourself in
a cab, wheeling away through the streets now full of light
and laughter, through the French Quarter with its whirl of
fashion and gaiety displayed in the out-of-door restaurants.
Past all the noise and brilliance you hasten to the Moorish
Quarter so dark and silently sphinx-like.

The change is more complete than that effected by Alad-
din's lamp. The street lamps of civilization have almost disap-
peared and the new moon above the housetops sheds a scanty
light on the white-clad musslemen, each of whom seems to
guard some awful secret as closely as the grave.

The eab rattles strangely through the streets and alleys,
and the queer "ghe-e-e-e" of the driver makes you jump.
The restful silence grows oppressive and an occasional solitary
figure on a dark crooked staircase leading to an upper street
makes you shudder with apprehension. You just must stop

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and take a peep into a mosque, bnt your courage fails and
you do not follow the explorations of the more venturesome,
contenting yourself with the view from the curtain-hung
doorway. The temple is even more dimly lighted than the
streets and it is some moments before you can distinguish the
prostrate followers of the Koran. Walls dark and sombre,
hung with heavy tapestries, and pillars of the same rich
oriental coloring surround you. Tiny lamps fed with per-
fumed oil are the only lights. The very air is heavy with in-
cense, and every nook and corner breathes mystery. Each
dingy bit of carpet takes on a new significance when you re-
member the dagger ever ready for the unwary christian who
defiles one — you fairly quake with terror while waiting ages
for the explorers to return.

It is a great relief to be in the street again, and — well,
you have had enough. Back to the light you go, with a pitying
glance for the outcast women of the harem who wandered
about in their soiled white draperies.

The shopkeepers tempt you with their wares; and you
fall. Laden with tapestries, brasses, silks, and spangled scarfs
galore, you return to the ship, and soon you are steaming
away from the shore so gay and brilliant, while over the
hillsides the lights twinkle like fireflies. It is all very weird
and beautiful, but as the distance widens your first thought is,
"Thank God, I am an American!"

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Twilight

Nan Lacy, '11, Cornelian

The clouds that just an hour ago
Were glistening with a rosy glow,
Are lifeless now, and dull, and gray,
At this, the closing of the day.
The sun sinks slowly in the west.
The little birds are going to rest,
The cricket 's chirp is in the air.
And darkness creeps in everywhere.

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TKe ReaLlizaition

E. Rose Batterham, '11, Adelphian

The road that I traveled wound over the foothills of a
large range of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Their magnificent
vision did not claim my attention today, for I was very tired
and my pedler's pack weighed heavily on my shoulders. There
was rest, good cheer and a friend awaiting me, so I trudged
bravely on. I rounded a bend in the road and saw a familiar
figure coming to meet me. It was my friend, a tall, white-
haired, grey-bearded old man who leaned heavily on a staff.
He increased his pace when he saw me and held his free hand
outstretched to grasp mine.

"Well, well, friend o' mine, 'tis good to see you again!"
He spoke with the strong accent peculiar to the people of the
northern countries of England. ' ' How 's been your trade ? Sold
any of your blind sister's lace?" and he laughed heartily.
He always enjoyed teasing me by saying that I peddled my
lace off more readily by telling my customers that my blind
sister made it, the latter being a myth of his.

"Yes, I'm out of lace and scissors, but I haven't sold a
single razor this trip."

"The men are turning barbarians, they'll soon all be long-
bearded like me," and he stroked his beard with a kind of
caress. "Say," he caught hold of my arm confidentially,
"I'm thinking of buying one of your neckties, perhaps a blue
one would blue suit me now, hey? I've been thinking that
she'll come soon and I want to be nice and stylish-like to
meet her."

This was always a painful subject to me and so with a
hasty "Yes, yes," I tried to make him think of something
else, but he persisted. ' ' Say, friend o ' mine, she could climb,
she was a walker. You should have seen her running up the
Lancastershire hills, in the old country, when she was young.
My rheumatism is much better now and I'll be able to go
sometimes with her. Why, I've arranged several little trips
for her and me. We'll only take the foothills at first." We

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

neared his little home, and as he helped me unstrap my pack
he refrained, much to my relief, from speaking of his
daughter.

After a substantial supper, which was served by the moun-
tain woman who kept house for my friend, we went into the
yard to look at his fowls.

"See, they are doing finely now and I'll always have a
new laid egg for her breakfast. We can have chicken-pie —
she was a great hand at making chicken-pie. If she don't
come soon," he smiled sadly, 'Hhat old hen will be far too
tough for any sort of a pie. You're tired, go and rest a bit
while I feed 'em and see 'em to roost. Then we'll walk a
bit in the cool of the evening."

The old man troubled me today; he added greatly to the
burden of the secret that I was keeping from him. We were
friends of five years. I had met him here, leaning heavily
on his stick and wandering up and down these roads, when
I had first come from "the old country". I had soon learned
to like him; it was not a hard matter, for he was a wonder-
fully genial old man. Then I began making his home a stop-
ping place in my pedling trips. Here I always found rest
and a degree of the companionship that I hungered for. We
had very little in common at first except the tie of our Eng-
lish birth. That was the foundation for stronger ties. The
height of his desire, the one desire of his life, was to see his
daughter, a little lass he had left in England with her grand-
mother thirty years ago. Somehow they had long since ceased
to communicate with each other. I believe the old man was
partially to blame, for he was very careless in some ways. Still
he believed that it was an easy matter for her to find him and
come to him. He had hoped, and sometimes still hoped, to
make a fortune for her in the new world he had come to.
But his only possession consisted in the little farm, poorly
cultivated by any chance farmer who could give a few hours'
time from his own labors. Everything in my friend's life
was so wrapped up in the thought of his daughter's coming
that to separate him from his desire to have her with him
would have destroyed the old man's personality. This im-

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

pressed me greatly from the first, and so I put forth earnest
efforts to find her. I searched by letter-writing for almost a
year before I discovered her whereabouts. Without the old
man's knowing my purpose I left my work and went to the
large city where she was. I could not help but picture her
as the old man had described her, a comely woman with all
the purity and grace that her simple life with her grand-
mother would have brought. It was a terrible shock to see
the real daughter, and even after I had left her the real and
the pictured still fought in my mind for supremacy, so vividly
had the old man placed his daughter there.

I just arrived in time to see her as she was with a large
company of traveling actors. I found her an actress — yes,
but with all the harshness and brazenness a life before the
footlights may bring, but with none of the strength and power
it can give. She was in a hurry. At first I thought it wise not
to tell her why I came to her, but having no other excuse for
the interview I told her the full purpose of my visit. She
laughed when I had finished, ' ' Law, I 've been in America for
a score of years. I've kept my eye on him. So he wants to
see me?"

"Yes — but not you, he couldn't see you, but the woman
he holds you to be."

"Nothing like being plain with a body!" she exclaimed,
yet I could see that she winced a little and glanced at herself
in a mirror hanging near.

"What are we going to do? I'm in a hurry."

"Nothing. You won't come near him or let him know of
your whereabouts?" I asked anxiously.

"Not I. I don't want to be bothered with him. Say,
who 's the farm going to when he gives up ? "

' ' To you ; everything down to the poor old man 's hens are
yours. You might have been so happy with him."

' ' Happy, who says I 'm not happy now ? The farm 's mine,
you say ; well, I want the cash. ' '

"I'll see that you get it when the time comes!" I ex-
claimed hotly.

"Well, bye-bye; give papa my love. You and I'll corres-

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

pond when the farm changes hands — you might send me a
hen or two." She laughed sarcastically and was gone.

I was angry and deeply grieved. I must have been living
the scene over again when the old man came around the house
and gazed, with a startled expression, at my face. "Why,
man, you do look queer, what's up?"

"Nothing," I tried to smile; "I was just thinking."

"Don't then, if it makes you look like you were ready to
kill someone. I'll have the lantern lit and we'll go and have
a look at the landscape." This was always a feature of my
visit, a view of the landscape by lantern light before retiring.
Of course we saw nothing in the distance unless the weather
was clear and the moon shining. Tonight it was exceptionally
dark, so dark that the only things visible were made so by
the faint lantern rays. We pottered along the road, across
the fields and in and out among trees. Now and then my
companion would stop, and pointing in a certain direction,
would say, "Craggy looks pretty from here," or "Here's
the best view of the Mount Pizgah and the Rat. My daughter
loved the hills in the old country and I know she'll learn to
like these mountains here. She's a comely woman, I ween,
tall and full of grace like her mother. She '11 be coming soon ;
I feel it. Oh, we forgot to look at the ties — a blue one. Yes,
I could wear it for her. It won't be too late to choose one
tonight if we go back now, eh ? " he queried.

The next morning he was cheery and hopeful, wearing the
blue tie, "to get used to it, eh?" As I parted from him he
rapped his stick on the ground and, catching hold of my arm,
whispered, "She'll be here when you come back. I know it.
I hope you'll get plenty of orders for your blind sister's lace,
friend o' mine. Good-bye." He hobbled rather feebly, I
thought, back towards his little home.

It was almost two weeks before my work brought me in
that direction again. The sight of the house did not, as was
always the case, bring the old man to view. I was surprised,
and hastened on to find him.

The country woman, his housekeeper, was taking down
the curtains from the front windows and closing the blinds.

STATE NOEMAL MAGAZINE

She saw me and came out on the porch. "Where is he?" I
asked anxiously.

"Set down and I'll tell ye," she said, with a catch in her
voice.

I sat down and listened. She buried her face in her apron
and I caught her smothered words, "He took sick — his rheu-
matiz give him extra trouble, and with no one but fer me to
set with him he died. But — ' ' she raised her head. She had
been crying. * ' He thought as there was someone else. Part of
the time he thought you was thar — "

"Anyone else?" I asked hurriedly.

"Yes, just afore he died his face lit up and he turned and
stretched out his hands and said fond-like, 'Eh, lassie, you've
come to me. Friend o ' mine, I knew she would be here soon. '
That was all. It's a shame his real lassie did not come to
cheer him in his last days."

"No, no, it was best that way. It v/as his real lassie who
did come."

STATE NORMAL MAQAZINE

The Forgery

Georgie H. Faison, '11, Adelphian

Jolin Holden sat before his library fire staring with a fixed
gaze into the glowing bed of coals. His head was supported
by one hand, the elbow resting upon the arm of his easy chair,
and the long, boney and rather yellow fingers making small
furrows through the thin gray hair that partially covered his
temple. With the other hand he toyed absent-mindedly with
the small gold fob attached to his watch chain. He had sat
thus' for some time in deep thought. He was living over the
events of the day and meditating upon them. It had been a
peculiarly trying one for him and the weary, dejected expres-
sion he wore upon his face was only the reflection of the general
air of weariness and dejection that hovered over him and
depressed him sorely. He had paid a visit to hisi lawyer, Mr.
Morgan, that morning and had heard from the lips of the
grave counsellor that his business affairs were in a critical way
and that it would take all the money he could poissibly get
together to make all the settlements — may be more. He knew
that his business had been in a wretched condition for some-
time, and he thought that he had schooled himself sufficiently
to bear the results, whatever they might be, when they came.
But it was harder than he had expected it would be — perhaps
he was more tired than he supposed. The previous weeks had
been such nerve-racking ones and it was hard when one was
nearing three score years and ten to learn that his life 's work
has been a miserable failure — ^such a waste of years it seemed.
Perchance the aim had been too high or the advancement too
rapid !

It wasi not for himself that John Holden was thinking and
planning principally as he sat alone by the library fire — it
was the son in the little western town who was occupying his
chief attention. How was he going to tell him that he had
failed, that all the property, which in time would have been
his, even the home itself, would have to go ! An expression of
the most exquisite pain and sadness passed over the father's
16

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countenance as these thoughts passed through his tired and
discouraged mind. The brief expanse of years that made up
his son's lifetime flitted rapidly by in his memory. He dwelt
most fondly and for the longest time on the first vacation
after his graduation when his son had come home, to become,
he hoped, his partner in business, and to carry the bulk of
the burden when his shoulders should become too weary. It
had been a great disappointment when he had announced that
he wished to start in business for himself as his father has
done before him, but the father recognized the spirit as inher-
ited from himself, and although grieved over the turn of
affairs, he nevertheless rejoiced over this manifestation of
determination and strength of character, and gave his consent
readily. All this came vividly up before his mental vision,
and he bowed his head still lower. That his son must know
that he had been so unsuccessful was the hardest blow of all !

"Thank God! failure and disgrace are not synonymous.
I can hand down the name to my son unstained, and that is
the greatest heritage of all — an honest name," sighed John
Holden, a slight tone of relief coming into his tone.

Just then Thomas, the butler, rapped gently on the door,
and Mr. Holden aroused himself to ask what he wished. "A
letter, sir," and Thomas laid the missive in the outstretched
hand and silently withdrew.

Mr. Holden held the letter in his hand for several moments,
turning it over in an absorbed manner, without looking at it.
He was not in a mood to read it. He thought that it might be
another dun or bill, or otherwise unwelcome message. Finally,
he reached over to his desk and picked up a penknife, and
then for the first time noticed the address. The bold handwrit-
ing was that of his son of whom he had been thinking so
earnestly. He opened it with eager, impatient fingers, a half-
glad smile lighted up the pale, worn features, and a portion of
the burden seemed to have rolled from his spirit.

The letters had been less frequent during the last year and
were much shorter than they had been for the first two years
of the son's residence in the west before he had become cashier
of the town bank. Perhaps he was too busy to write oftener

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and wasi becoming so engrossed in his work that he forgot how
interested the father would have been in the minutest details,
John Holden would constantly tell himself. He would not
allow himself to entertain the thought that the son might be
growing indifferent. His love always made excuses for him
when these accusing opinions arose.

And now a slight tremor of happiness passed over his
feature as he pulled a long anticipated letter out of the envel-
ope. Scarcely had he began, however, when a deathly pallor
passed over his face, his hand trembled and the letter, which
was pitifully short, fluttered to the floor. "I am in a dread-
ful fix, ' ' it began. ' ' Took twenty-five thousand from the bank
to buy share in mines that were reported to be so rich that the
money invested in them could be doubled within three months.
I took the risk. The whole thing was a fake and I am ruined
unless I can replace the money within the next two weeks ; the
trustees meet then and I will have to give in my report. I
wouldn't have let you known, father, it it hadn't been the
last resort. It breaks my heart to write to you for help and
to have to tell you that your son is a thief — a criminal. ' '

"A thief, a criminal," groaned the father, and he bowed
his head upon his bosom. An appalling stillness, the silence of
death, pervaded the room. For hours he sat thus, repeating at
intervals' in almost inaudible tones, "a thief, a criminal."
The fire in the grate burned low, the glowing coals were fast
fading into black embers, and the small flame remained unre-
plenished. The greyhound that had entered the room un-
noticed when Thomas had brought the letter, awoke and,
stretching himself, gave a low, mournful whine. The room was
becoming chilly ; still the old gentleman sat on, as if in a dream.
' ' A thief, a criminal, ' ' he uttered over and over again.

Thus the hours fretted themselves away. At length the
midnight hour drew near. The hand of the grandfather clock
in the hall crawled around toward twelve and the hour was
told by the slow, sombre strokes that provoked an echo from
the silent rooms. The fussy little French clock on the library
mantel took up the refrain, and before its silvery chimes had
died away, other clocks somewhere in the distance counted out

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the hour. These latter sounded far away. After this all
was quiet again. The old man sat on. Finally the minute
hand had made another revolution and the old clock in the
hall struck one, the French clock and the clocks in the distance
gave the echo.

After a seemingly endless time, the faintest rays of early
morning light crept timidly in the room through the partly
drawn curtains. Mr. Holden suddenly became consicious that
the fire was out. His feet and hands felt icy cold and his head
throbbed and felt strange. Mechanically he rose from the
chair and stood before the now cold, black grate. Involuntarily
he lifted his eyesi to the portrait of his wife hanging above
the mantel. He was startled. The eyes of the son were looking
down upon him from the face of the dead mother, and they
carried a message to the benumbed heart of the father. ' ' I will
be ruined unless I get the money," they pleaded earnestly
and wistfully for help. The tender mouth of the young
mother pleaded also for the son in distress.

Wearily the father climbed the stairs to his chamber. He
was so tired and cold. Perhaps he could go to sleep. "I will
be ruined" rang in his ears. An echoing strain in the heart
responded as the weary eyelids closed in sleep that came from
utter exhaustion.

After a few hours of troubled slumber, John Holden awoke.
He felt lost and bewildered and for a few seconds gazed
vacantly around, trying to determine where he was. The
familiar walls, however, soon brought him to a realization of
his whereabouts, and as an engulfing wave the memory of the
night's sorrow over flooded his now awakened brain and
brought with it the thought of the son in distress.

Fully conscious of the hard day that lay before him, he
soberly and sadly descended the stairs. Softly he opened the
library door and walked in, closing it after him. The letter
lay upon the hearth rug where it had fallen from his hand the
night before. He stooped to pick it up, to burn it, so that
no other eye save his own could thus learn of his son's guilt.
The date of the letter attracted his attention and with a shud-

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der he noticed that nine days of the precious two weeks had
passed. The letter had been delayed.

' ' The answer must go tomorrow if it is going to be of any
use to him," he muttered to himself, "and, good God!" he
exclaimed as if he had received a sudden stroke and sank feebly
into a chair, "I haven't a penny in this world to send the
lad. ' ' The knowledge of his own trouble had been lost in his
anxiety and sorrow caused by the new and greater grief.

"I am ruined unless I get the money in time," he mur-
mured in an undertone. All the other sientences of the son's
letter seemed to have faded from the father's mind. "I'm a
thief, a criminal," seemed to have slipped entirely away.
The eyes in the picture above had pleaded their cause well.
The thought that the boy was in trouble and that he was pow-
erless to help him for the time crazed the father's mind. He
forgot that the noble name of Holden had received its first
stain. He thought only of the son who was standing on the
brink of ruin.

He could not raise the money among his acquaintances.
This device had been tried during the long tedious week pre-
ceding his own catastrophe, and besides, he did not have the
time. In the hour of desperation an idea of an underhanded
means of obtaining money came to him, faint at first. He
raised his hand as if to push it away, but it had found a
lodging and would not be dispersed. Before he fully realized
what the idea involved John Holden had crossed over to his
opened desk and was searching eagerly for a paper containing
the signature of J. E. Rogers & Son, brokers. Slowly, and
with the uncertainty of a child just learning to write, he be-
gan the novel task of copying the names. After many fail-
ures, he at last produced a copy that wasi the counterpart of
the original, and hastily annexed the sum of two hundred
and fifty thousand dollars to the signed check. This he en-
closed in a note to one of the smallest and most unknown
banking houses, asking that the amount be placed to his
credit. A second check for the same amount was slipped into
an envelope directed to the son.

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At this moment Thomas entered with the morning mail.
He was surprised at the changes that were noticeable in his
master's face and attitude. The pale cheeks had become an
ashen hue, the eyes had a strange gaze and were set far back,
and the night seemed to have brought an extra number of
furrows and wrinkles. He seemed also to have aged con-
siderably and to be very unlike himself.

''Thomas, here are two lettersi that I want you to mail to-
morrow morning," he spoke, arousing himself with evident
exertion. "I am going away for a little while," he added
wearily.

"I hope you are not sick, sir?"

"No, Thomas; not sick, only tired. Don't forget the let-
ters. They are very important. I will leave them on my
desk."

"Mr. Holden is takin' his failure pretty hard," Thomas
announced to the cook after leaving the library.

Two months; later John Holden sat again in his library
in his armchair by the empty grate. It was spring now, and
through the open windows the soft evening air was drifting.
He had grown much older in the brief space, and his grey
hair had become snowy white. Although the face was ex-
ceedingly worn and haggard, yet there was a suggestion of
peace — of determination— in the sad expression. John Hol-
den had come home to give himself up, and on the coming
morning he had planned to confess his deed to J. R. Rogers
& Son and take his punishment. The preceding two months
had been the hardest and the longest he had ever spent. They
had seemed like years to the old man, who was unaccustomed
to carry the burden of a dishonest deed.

His first impulse after having forged the cheek was to get
away from the city, and from it all. He cared not where he
went. In a confused and semi-conscious state of mind he
purchased a ticket for a small village he had once visited
many years ago. It was the first name that had flashed into
his thoughts as he reached the station.

Two months amid rural surroundings had restored his
mind to its usual state of rational thinking. Confusion and

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bewilderment gave way to clearness and vigor of mental
vision. The sentence, "I'm a thief, a criminal," in the son's
letter came back with its original crushing force. He now
became the guilty one's judge as well as his father, and wasi
able to realize his son's crime, notwithstanding his great love
and infinite pity. It now dawned upon his mind that he had
only added a second stain to the honored name rather than
wiped out the son 'si wrong, which was as real and as lasting
concealed as it would have been if revealed. He had merely
saved him from the hand of the law and not freed him from
the offense.

The thought that for the time he was a fugitive from
law and justice was as gall to his spirit. Daily, nay almost
hourly, he had expected to be encountered by an officer of the
law, but as the time crept by and he still remained unmolested
he at length decided to surrender himself tO' those whom he
had injured, and thereby take the punishment for the crime,
by which he had shielded the other criminal, his son. He would
cheerfully suffer for his child. The punishment in itself
was not that from which he recoiled ; it was the thought of the
crime he had committed, the right he had forfeited of bearing
an honest name. And thus John Holden had returned home
to wait the morning of his confession and subsequent convic-
tion, unable longer to bear the oppressing secret of his wrong-
doing.

The door was opened and Thomas, ignorant of Mr. Hol-
den'si arrival, entered to close the room for the night. He
started as if he had seen his master's ghost and would have
vanished had he not been arrested by the old gentleman's
voice greeting him.

"When did you come, sir?" he demanded excitedly, with
a tone of incredulity in his voice. Upon being reassured in
regard to the arrival, he spoke of the many calls made by Mr.
Holden 's lawyer in his absence, and of the searching ques-
tions he had been asked concerning his master's whereabouts.

In order to interrupt the conversation that was jarring
upon his sorely tried nerves, John Holden asked for the mail
which had come while he had been away. He held out his

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hand for the budget of letters and then with a slight nod
dismissed the servant from the room. With eagerness he
searched the bundle through for one from his son, whom in
seeking to help he had injured himself so grievously. In his
haste and impatience he let many slip from his hand and fall
to the floor. The right one was found, and with a slight
quaking of spirit, in fear of what the missive might tell,
slipped the penknife under one corner of the cover.

The letter was brief this time also, but how different from
that of two months ago ! It began by telling that the mines,
at the very last minute, when all the share-ownersi had con-
cluded that they were a mere fake, had turned out to be a
splendid investment; much greater than had been expected,
or even hoped for. At the last trial made by the prospectors
a vein of pure metal had been found. Following this, the son
profusely thanked the father for the ready and prompt an-
swer to his appeal, and added that he wasi glad it had not
been necessary to cash the check. At the close the penitent
son humbly asked pardon for having brought the first stain
upon the family name, which his father had guarded so
faithfully.

"Which I have guarded so faithfully," repeated the
father with a mournful sigh that was scarcely more than a
half-breathed whisper, as his head sank low upon his breast,
his gaze resting upon the rug at his feet. A letter was lying
there and the address looked wonderfully familiar. It was
his own handwriting and the name written upon the en-
velope in a rather uneven fashion, as if the hand that had
held the pen had trembled. The name was that of the small
banking house. Dazed, he reached to pick it up for closer
inspection. It was the one that held the forged check, by
which he was to bring a stain upon his name.

"What does it all mean?" he asked himself, his voice
shaking with excitement and emotion, as he held the letter
in one hand, looking at it incredulously. "Thomas mailed
the other, why not this? Could it be that the forgery was
not committed? It would have been, though," he said sadly,
' ' if fate had not prevented. Maybe a higher Power than fate

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MAGAZINE

had a hand in it — ^^and perhaps He knew how tired and weary
I was. ' '

"And yet," he added, with his eyes upon the picture above
him, ' ' and yet it was done in the heart for our boy. I feel its
power there even though it can never be known." He sank
back in his chair to rest, for he wasi very tired.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE
When Mizpath Ann PaLcked

Mildred Harrington, '13, Adelphian

Mizpah Ann sat before an open trunk in the middle of the
floor, and surveyed the chaotic scene about her with that frank,
and verdant joy, which is commonly supposed to be the pecu-
liar characteristic of home-going freshmen. Her roommate,
Peggy Martin, was perched on a table industriously hammer-
ing her thumb in a laudable attempt to remove all tacks and
pins from the walls, before Miss Onslow should come around to
inspect the rooms. Chairs, beds, and window-seat were piled
high with girlish belongings. On the dressing table a chafing
dish, half full of seafoam, hobnobbed cheerfully with Mizpah
Ann's party slippers, a powder puff, and half a dozen botany
specimens.

Peggy, who was apt to be gently sarcastic on occasions, de-
clared that Mizpah Ann had a place for everything, and that
she faithfully kept everything in its place. And then she was
wont to add, with a patient little smile, that the place was on
the dressing table.

Peggy had reached the last picture, when she heard an
ecstatic gurgle behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to
find her roommate with rapturous eyes turned ceiling-ward
and hands tightly clasping each other.

"P-Peggy Martin," breathed Mizpah Ann, with as much
dignity as could be expected in a person who stammers and
won't admit it, "c-c-can you realize that we're really and
truly g-g-going home tomorrow?"

Unfortunately for Mizpah Ann, Peggy had succeeded in
giving more attention to her thumb than to the tacks.

"Mizpah Ann Bankers," she said, with what that young
person termed her spirit-squelching intonation, ' ' do you realize
that those trunks have got to be packed and in the hall in
exactly one hour and twenty minutes ? ' '

"P-Peggy, how c-can y-you have the heart t-to sing out
t-t-that whole horrid name like that ? ' ' she demanded with in-
dignation. ''You might have spared the 'Bankers' anyway."

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Peggy had managed to extract a mouthful of tacks and
her reply was slightly inarticulate. She was sitill struggling
with speech and tacks when the sound of a curious double
shuffle, executed before the door, came faintly over the tran-
som.

' ' Peggy, Peg-Peg, come take your old No Ad. down and get
your mail ! ' ' called a blithesome voice from the hall.

Before Peggy could get down from her perch, Mizpah Ann
was at the door, and a small whirlwind of a girl blew into
the room.

''Billet-doux! Miss Propriety", mocked the black-eyed
sprite, waving a faculty envelope under Peggy's nose.

'Oh, you angel!" spluttered Peggy, tacks flying in every
direction. "Give it to me quick. Oh, children, it's a chance
to pass off the last half of Math. ' '

"Behold! she is overwhelmed. Once m-more is she to ex-
perience the exquisite joy of a quiz," said Mizpah Ann in
elaborately ironical tones.

Peggy paid no attention; her mind was fixed on higher
things. In exactly two seconds she was at the door, a compass
in one hand and a bunch of pencils in the other.

"Mizpah Ann", she pleaded, "do hurry, dear. And don't
forget to put in your pink mull and leave out your rubbers ;
you are so irresponsible," she added frankly, "you'll have to
do the best you can this time."

" Oh ! " interjected Mizpah Ann loftily, ' ' d-don 't you worry
about the irre-s-s-sponsible part. I'm just c-crazy about
packing, and s-shall begin immediately if not s-sooner. ' '

And Mizpah Ann did pack resolutely and systematically.
She invaded the closet with a grim determination to forget
nothing. She emptied bureau drawers and cleared off beds.
And when both trunks were safely strapped, and in the hall,
she swept and dusted things into a state of beautiful order.
Peggy found her curled up on the window-seat, eating fudge
and reading "Little Women."

"Have you finished, and did you get them off in time?"
demanded Peggy, anxiety written large upon her brow.

"I have and I did," returned Mizpah Ann with concise-

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ness and dignity, omitting, however, to mention that she had
packed Peggy's bedroom slippers.

"Eeally, Peg," she continued, in an aggrieved tone, ''I
can't imagine w-why you treat me as if I were si-still in the
kinderg-garten. If I don't flunk on G-German again, I shall
be a full-fledged Soph, next year. ' '

Peggy smiled a smile that was full of motherly commisera-
tion.

' ' But you 're so irresponsible ! ' '

And that was a statement which Mizpah Ann could not re-
fute. For did she not remember, at that very moment, that
both her own and Peggy's gloves were carefully wrapped in
tissue paper, and just as carefully stowed in Peggy's trunk?

That night there were several farewell feasts on Miss Ons-
low's hall. Mizpah Ann and Peggy exerted themselves to
slight nobody. Study hour was suspended and festivity
reigned supreme.

It was eight minutes of twelve, by the hall clock, when
Peggy and Mizpah Ann crept shivering to their room. Out-
side, the restless clanging of the street-car bell, and the crunch
of the wheels as they slid noisily over sleet-covered rails, were
the only sounds that broke the wintry stillness. On the cam-
pus, a few faint lights glimmered feebly through the bare
tree tops. Long, slender flngers of ice, in ghostly lines,
pressed inquisitively against the window-panes.

The heat was off, and for some mysterious reason, Mizpah
Ann refused to have the lights on. She plunged herself down
on the bed and began an animated discussion on the brilliance
of the stars. She was very much in earnest, and actually
seemed hurt when Peggy mildly observed that the stars were
not out. Immediately, Mizpah Ann became interested in
Math. She asked all manner of learned questions about prisms
and other isms, and manifested a profound respect for Peg-
gy's mathematical love.

Peggy, trusting soul, was too sleepy to be surprised, and
too gentle-natured to be suspicious. Once fairly launched on
her favorite subject, she became a veritable self -expounding
geometry. She exhausted the historical development of plane

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geometry; she emphasized the fascinations of solid work and
was taking up complex theorems in Trig, with renewed vigor,
when poor Mizpah Ann inadvertently yawned. At least it
was something between a yawn and a sneeze, with a great deal
of shiver in between.

Peggy came back to mundane things with a start.

"You poor child," she said, jumping up, "you've nearly
frozen to sleep, and here I sit spouting Math. Get right in
bed this minute and I '11 find the blankets. ' '

Mizpah Ann's eyes dilated with horror.

"D-d'don't, Peggy," she wailed in desperation, "don't
you dare go in that closet ! ' '

Things she had heard about midnight marauders con-
cealed in closets flashed across Peggy 's mind ; Mizpah Ann was
still talking and gesticulating wildly.

"That is — oh, I d-don't mean that! P-Peggy, let's talk
some more about "

It was a bright idea, but for once it refused to work. Peg-
gy experienced a strange sinking sensation about the heart.
Vaguely, she began to realize that Mizpah Ann was, to put it
lightly, somewhat disturbed. With mathematical precision
her mind reverted to other times when her roommate had ex-
hibited these self -same symptoms of uneasiness. She mentally
reviewed Mizpah Ann's conduct for the past two weeks and
was more puzzled than ever. For a wonder, Mizpah Ann
had called down the wrath of no member of the faculty upon
her head. She had not cut chapel ; neither had she skipped
lab. work.

Finally, the light of a great comprehension dawned in
Peggy's eyes. She remembered sundry bulgy parcels that
Mizpah Ann had brought home, from a shopping trip, labeled,
"X-mas presents."

"You've spent your ticket money!" Peggy said it with
the air of pronouncing sentence on one eternally doomed.

"I wish I had," groaned Mizpah Ann, "you c-can't sleep
under t-t-tieket money. ' '

Peggy gasped. The light of comprehension faded from
her eyes and a look of righteous indignation took its place.

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For the second time in one day did she address her roommate
by her full name.

"Mizpah Ann Bankers!" she fairly shrieked. "Don't
you dare tell me you've packed those blankets on the twenty-
third of December and the snow two inches deep. ' '

Outside the wind howled dismally, and inside, Mizpah
Ann did very much the same thing.

"P-Peggy, d-don't look at me in that tone of voice," she
wailed incoherently.

She was a pitiful looking little heap. Peggy's wrath
melted.

"You poor infant," she said, and giggled feebly.

Sympathy had a bad effect on Mizpah Ann.

"Y-yes, " she stuttered dismally, "but I e-can't seem to
feel your sympathy when all I 've got to sleep under is a wet
towel and a worn-out overshoe."

In spite of herself, Peggy shivered at the picture.

"Don't forget the window curtains," she said, with an at-
tempt at jauntiness. ' ' They're a good yard wide and the polka
dots are extra heavy."

' ' P-Peg, we shall freeze ! ' '

Peggy sat on the edge of the bed and swung her slipperless
feet. It was getting serious; she said nothing. All at once
Mizpah Ann squealed.

"W-Why couldn't we g-get some of Jane Bradford's
things?" she said, drawing her kimona closer and looking
apprehensively at the window curtains.

Peggy jumped. " The very idea !" she said. "Of course!
She has the finest old home-made blankets, and she left them
right on her bed. You stay here, and I '11 go reconnoiter. ' '

"I d-don't know whether I ought to or-r-not," said Mizpah
Ann with firmness, ' ' b-but I do know one thing — I 'm not g-g-
going to stay here by myself while you g-go after those
blankets. ' '

And Peggy meekly gave in. Together they opened the
door, which creaked as door never creaked before or since.
Hand in hand, they crept up the dark hall, and simultaneously

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they mounted a convenient trunk when a frightened little
mouse ran across the floor.

Three minutes later they were back, each with blankets
enough to make an ordinary iceberg comfortable. Somewhere
in the building a clock struck one as they patted down the
last blanket.

Mizpah Ann was the first to get in bed.

" G-good-night, P-Peg," she called, as her tousled head
disappeared beneath multitudinous blankets. "You say both
prayers tonight. And I reckon you ought to 'fess up about
the blankets."

And Mizpah Ann drifted off to dream about packing mice
in Peggy's wedding trunk.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

SdLra Thinks

Margaret Cobb, '12, Adelphian

Sara Morton was sitting on a low couch looking dreamily
out of the window. One hand lay in her lap, idly holding
a bit of neglected needlework. Far away, over the well-kept
lawns and gay jaower-beds, over meadows and woods, toward
the Southland her gaze wandered as if the big blue eyes
would penetrate beyond the horizon.

It was quite unusual for Sara to be thinking — Sara, the
carefree, the thoughtless. Lucy Reinhardt had just left the
room. These two roommates had been spending the morning
in plans and preparations for the Eastertide. But plans had
narrowed down somewhat — to a discussion of a certain Senior
friend of whom they were both very fond, and of their Eas-
ter gifts for this personage. Sara had set her heart upon
sending flowers as well as the dainty little giftS' they were
making. Violets would be so becoming to Agnes, and she
loved them so — Sara kept insisting on her suggestion, but,
for once, Lucy, the gay, laughing Lucy, refused to join her
in sending them.

Lucy told it all in an embarrassed sort of way. Sara
knew that she would love to do it, oh so much, but, to be plain-
spoken, she could not afford it. Her father was not a wealthy
man and it was hard for him to give his daughter the advan-
tages of such a college. He was just as liberal as could be in
giving her spending money, but still she was not the only
one of the family to be considered. Her sisters and brothers
had rights as well as she, and she could not deprive them of
everything just for the selfish pleasure of sending flowers to
a girl friend. She had done it too much already. If times
were not so hard may be she could, but even plays and really
worth-while things would have to be given up for a while.

They dropped the subject abruptly and began to talk of
commonplace things. When Lucy left Sara turned to the
window, and, as she gazed across the broad expanse of campus,
her thoughts turned with her eyes towards! home. She had

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not thought of home in a long time and the present reverie
was not precisely comfortable. Lucy's words left a mean
sort of feeling. Even sending the flowers had lost its charm.
The dainty embroidery that wasi for Agnes lay disregarded
and forgotten — she was thinking of home.

She, too, was not wealthy, yet she was extravagant. It
was a great strain on the income for thei family to send her
here, and she had had no father to help fill the deficit. She had
sisters, too, but they all had what they wanted — not just she.
It was true that at home she had not wanted much. She was
content to spend her days browsing through books. She did
not know any girls then — there were no suitable ones of her
age in the village — and Janet, her next sister, was so childish
and hated books so that she was also uncompanionable. There
were no friends for whom to spend money. Before she came
off to college she had never imagined that there was a girl
whom she would care to make as much a companion as her
books. Well, one might always change one's opinion, and
the girls here certainly were lovely. But maybe, after all,
she had better not send those flowers. Agnes would never miss
them and — well, she certainly should not have written home
so much for money.

"When one is always in for a lark, like Miss Sara, one
seldom lacks company, especially when one is the recipient
of an express package. The door was burst open by a troop
of noisy girls who were excitedly trying to outstrip each
other in announcing the arrival of an Easter box.

"Oh, it's a great big one, Sara — a regular whale! We
saw it taken out of the wagon and just had to bring the news
— I know it's a regular gold mine of goodies. If you don't
invite me I'll never forgive you!"

Such was the medley of sounds poured into her ears that
it took Sara several minutes to distinguish any one word.
Everyone promptly escorted her out to welcome the box, which
was not yet outside the door as they had half expected. It
seemed to take an eternity to get Easter boxes delivered.
Every plan for hastening its approach only seemed to make

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

matters worse. But even impatience gets its reward in such
cases as this, for the box was at last in Sara's room.

Great is the capacity of a box from home. Out came all
the Easter finery — the new hats and dresses and gloves and
slippers and everything, for mothers always think of every-
thing. Then there was the little box of remembrances — the
prettiest pairs of silk stockings from mother, prettily hem-
stitched handkerchiefs from the industrious small sister, and
a little pin from Janet. Janet never would have patience
enough to make anything for her ; it was a wonder she would
even part with the pin if she had chosen it — ^maybe she had
not, maybe mother had sent it in her name ! — Such a thought
was quick to pass from Sara's mind, and, blushing with pride
she tried on her new clothes amid the many compliments of
the girls'.

But the girls' greatest praise was saved for the feast that
was next forthcoming. They all knew what good things Mrs.
Morton could send, and these were not exceptions to the many
previous ones that had been sent from the skilful hand of
"Mammy." Between mouthfuls of delicious cakes and
pickles, and all the things that come in "boxes", the young
ladies volubly expressed their appreciation of the dainties.

When the visitors had finally departed Sara and Lucy
began their attempt at bringing order out of the existing
€haos. In the first place, all of the box had not been un-
packed, so they decided to investigate further. Sara was
handing out bundles with a reckless hand when suddenly she
stopped. Up she jumped and, presenting a face quite flushed
with happiness and surprise, held out a small box in which
reposed the beautiful, the long-coveted sorority pin !

Oh, what a war dance those two girls did have! Then
everybody else must see and admire the pin. And admiration
and longing were certainly in almost every face of the quickly-
gathered group. Sara was everywhere, guarding her treasure,
yet in her every gesture and expression recording each word
of praise that was given. Rosy with pleasure and excitement,
she was drinking in deep draughts of happiness at her good
fortune and her friends' rejoicing with her.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

''Gracious, but you ought to be happy, Sara Morton! — I
never saw such a beauty — It's prettier than Agnes 's." — Such
expressions are enough to make one radiant. — ''Gee, but that
cost ! You must be the pet of your family or else your father's
a millionaire. It 's the most expensive pin of all. To think of
getting a twenty-five dollar Easter present, with clothes and
other things to boot ! Are you the only child, with very doting
parents, or what ? ' '

"No, I have two sisters who — who are just as much petted
as I."

She said the words so quietly yet hesitatingly that all
glances were turned from the pin to its owner, who had lost
the flash of excitement from her dancing eyes and wore
instead, a far-a-way look that seemed to forget all its sur-
roundings.

"What in creation is the matter, Sara?"

She came back to earth with a quick smile. "Nothing;
I was only thinking." Back into fun she dragged herself,
but, when she was alone again, she found herself thinking;
yes, thinking.

She had two sisters who were just as much petted as she ?
— She wondered. Were they receiving twenty-five dollar
Easter presents? Did they have new clothes for every occa-
sion? Had they been going to the theatre every time an
attraction was offered? Did they have chafing dish parties
and feasts? Did they run tremendous florist's bills just
because some of their friends liked flowers and enjoyed wear-
ing them ? Did they throw away money so extravagantly just
for the selfish pleasure of giving momentary happiness to
some friend? Did they do all that? She wondered.

And clearly, quite clearly, there came a vision to
those eyes with their misty, dreaming look. She saw a
great livingroom whose walls were lined with books —
a library in all but name. The sunset glow had faded
and the twilight hour was at hand. On a big fur
rug before the fire lay two children, a girl of about
fourteen and one of nine. By a window sat a frail little
woman, putting the finishing touches to a dainty frock.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

It was given to the children to pull out basting threads. It
was indeed time to stop work, and, anyhow, children never
like to pull out basting threads. Their complaints — ^she could
hear the murmurs on their lips.

"Mamma, I just can't pull out another single basting. I
don't think it's fair for us to have to sew and all, just so
that Sara can have her old sorority pin. Sara's got enough
clothes anyhow. She has a new dress for everything. I think
we might have some. Here I've got to wear a dress as old as
the ark tomorrow night just because Sara's things have got
to be sent off" — Janet always was vain. But little Mildred
just went over and climbed into her mother's lap, drawing
down the tired face for a kiss as she begged for just a little
story — it was too dark to see, and Ridey hadn't brought the
lights yet.

It was very little story, for soon an old negro mammy
brought in lights and a grave, legal-looking visitor. The
children must go; and the pale little face takes on a stiU
more worried expression as the business is gone over. Yes,
the house does need painting dreadfully, but she doesn't see
how it can be managed. Hapsgood Millsi has dropped from
seventy-five to thirty today — it went from a hundred and
ten to seventy-five yesterday. She has five hundred shares in
it. She will see about fixing Mr. Jones' roof and tell the
plumber to go to Mr. Fen wicks' tomorrow. The visitor goes
asi she puts a check into a letter and, with a weary look, sends
Ridey to the postoffice for fear Miss Sara might not get her
letter on time.

And then Miss Sara saw something else. She saw a gay
crowd of girls — a box party at the theatre — Huyler's and
flowers galore. Yes, it was time Sara was thinking.

It was late in the afternoon when Lucy roused her. Think-
ing had become so unusual for Sara that she had fallen asleep
in the exertion. She rejoiced sincerely with Lucy over her
check to buy a pin like hers. Fortunately the birthday came
at Eastertide and by scrimping on other things her parents
had managed to send the check as a birthday and Easter
present together. Sara was truly glad in her friend's hap-

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

piness, but no more ecstasties were forthcoming. Once more
she mingled with the merry throng, but somehow they found
the usually carefree girl quite a good deal more sober; and
she was just a little too tired to go to Blanche Pembroke's
midnight feast.

A pretty new dress enhances one's desire of attending
church, but not necessarily one's piety, and I fear such was
the case with Sara Morton when she donned her Easter
apparel. A full hour was required to make her toilet, which
in general was accomplished in fifteen minutes. There was
a great smoothing down of silks, and many were the glances
in the mirror in the process of pinning on the Easter hat, pre-
paratory to going to church with Agnes.

When she went for Agnes, Sara felt less gay perhaps than
usual, but really a great deal happier. The bright face smiled
more warmly than ever and the big gray eyes had a tender
look as Agnes was adorned with a great bunch of garden
violets.

The Easter service was beautiful. The choristers sang like
angels and the sobbing notes of violins almost drowned the
organ's peal. The minister entered the pulpit and began his
Easter sermon. It was a cry of triumph at the divine Res-
urrection and the one proved possible in our own lives. Good
intentions are not vain — they may seem so, but faith in one
earnest endeavor will be rewarded in a glorious triumph. Then
there are the great goals of perfection, Faith, Hope and Char-
ity— "and the greatest of these is Charity. But Charity be-
gins at home, you know. ' ' On he went, but Sara only heard
those last few words, "But Charity begins at home, you
know. ' ' When church was over she aroused herself from her
reverie, but, try as she would, she could not keep those words
out of her mind.

The girls were spending the day out, so it was late after-
noon when they were at last homeward bound. A sort of fore-
boding haunted Sara and she begged Agnes to stay with her
until supper. Lucy met them at the door with a letter for
Sara.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

''Mamma's Easter letter! You don't mind if I read it?"
and she tore the letter open, glancing down the page.

"Dear little daughter, who has always been a comfort to
us, who has never caused us any pain or sorrow, mother has

a sad thing to tell you — Janet ran away from home. It was

only a very wild escapade — she and Lizzie Harris started to

get a position to learn trained nursing. She was only gone

three hours. I telegraphed your Uncle Ealph and he caught

her at Liberty. She seems very sorry and is quite, docile.

don't worry. Perhaps God meant it for a lesson. "

She could get no farther. In a hushy voice she pleaded to be
left alone.

White-faced and dazed, she sat gazing unseeing before
her. Her hands lay lightly in her lap — unheeded the letter
slipped to the floor. She could only long blindly for home
that seemed so far away. She felt undefinably desolate. The
sun set and twilight deepened.

Then again the vision of that same dear room came. It
was late. The lamps flickered and the fire had almost gone
out. The dying embers cast a faint ruddy glow over a slen-
der little black-clad figure who sat gazing into their midst.
By the faint light the face looked, oh, so worn and haggard.
Every muscle of the body was rigid, the frail hands with their
veins standing out like great blue whip-cords were clenched
in the vise-like grasp of nervous transity, and even the eyes
seemed glassily fixed. Every time a footstep passed or car-
riage-wheels were heard she started and listened, then lapsed
into the same expectant state. Through the hours she could
see her sitting, her position never changing, waiting, hoping,
praying for her child's return, praying with colorless lips,
for the news of her child's safety, praying alone and uncom-
forted.

Now Sara saw something else. She saw the past — her own
past and her sister's. Oh, how painfully clear it all was ! She
was the oldest and had always been made grown-up ; Janet
was the baby for so long that she had never outgrown her
babyishness. She was a quiet, returning home-body while
Janet was a regular tomboy, fond of company and so depend-

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

ent on it. Janet was a nervous high-strung child with just a
touch of jealously and discontent ; she a sluggish nature, satis-
fied and caring little about others' dissatisfaction.

She could see them growing up — those two sisters — and
growing apart, yet not without advances on Janet's part.
They would grow angry sometimes, but somehow Sara always
got the best of it. Wrathful and hurt, Janet would often tell
her mother, "You just take up for Sara all the time. She's
always right and always gets everything she wants."

It was all true — those words, in the retrospection. Her
simple wants were easily granted then, but her wants now?
Yes, they were granted, but at what expense? She had gone
away to college. Absence had not strengthened the tie of
sister-love so loose at home. She forgot those sisters. The
letters home were all for mother, with hardly a greeting for
the two little girls whom a postcard would have made bliss-
fully happy. She had been extravagant, making those sisters
give up many of their small pleasures that she might have
money to throw away in lavishness. Janet had grown jealous-
ly indolent, while little Mildred stood in a sort of wondering
awe of this college-girl sister. The poor little mother was
wearing herself out trying to make both ends meet — it took
more than Sara's share for the bare college expenses.

And Janet — oh, she could not bear to think of it ! This
wild, ungovernable nature was her fault. Just a little bit of
sister-love, just a little thoughtfulness on her part, would have
made such a different child. Whose fault was it that Janet
was discontent because she did not have as many things as
her sister? Whose? The dry sobs rose in her throat — she
could not cry.

Thus through the long hours of the night she sat. Morning
dawned ; Lucy crept in and sat down at her feet. She motioned
to the letter and was lost in thought again.

She was thinking now of what she could do to repair the
wrongs she had done. Yes, she would write to Janet often, she
would do all the little things that sister-love prompts, she
would make Janet love her more than any of those rough, wild
companions whom she had forced her to seek. She would do

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

all that, but she must do something now — something to prove
herself. Oh ! She remembered how angry and jealous Janet
had been when her mother had let her wear her own watch, as
she could not buy her a new one. Yes, she was wearing it
now ; and had a beautiful new sorority pin. The plan grew —
Janet would like a watch better than anything else and she
should have it. Sara sat up with a start.

"Lucy, you've got the money to get a pin like mine?"

"Yes, Sara. Why?"

"Will you buy mine? My name hasn't been engraved on
it yet."

"Why, Sa— !"

' ' I can send it back if you 'd rather not. ' '

"Why really, if you mean it, I'd love to."

Sara 's deep blue eyes looked up into Lucy 's, and she spoke
quite firmly, "Yes, I mean it, please."

Sketches

"And the Goblins'll Get You if You Don't WaLtch Out"

lyillian S. Crisp, '13, Adelphian

Mrs. Black and Louise were in the sewing-room busily
stitching away. The door opened and Irene, a younger
daughter, came in, a rather peculiar expression on her face.

"Mother," she said, "I've searched every nook and cor-
ner in this house, and that dress isn't here. But I've found it
just the same. Hannah's Dell was promenading down the
road with it on about two minutes ago. Of course I don't
want the old thing back now, but I intend to scare Hannah
over it. Maybe then she won't be quite so ready to 'borrow'
anything she happens to take a fancy to. I 'm tired of having
to dress Dell with things 'borrowed' from me. Didn't you
start to make that dress on Friday, mother ? ' '

' ' Yes, and I 'm not surprised that you found it where you
did. Hannah was here at work the other day, and you know
how she takes everything her fingers can get on."

"Yonder she comes now." Louise, who had glanced out
of the window, was speaking. "Irene, you go out and come
back in while she 's here and we '11 talk about the dress. Han-
nah always stands around half an hour before telling what
she wants, anyway, so you'll have plenty of time."

Irene slipped out of one door as Hannah came in another.
Later she returned to tell Mrs. Black how the entire house
had been given a thorough search and not a single trace of
her dress found in it anywhere.

Hannah was naturally much interested in the recital.
She also gave good attention to Mrs. Black's reply. That lady
spoke as follows :
40

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

"Well, dear, I'm not so very sorry that the dress is gone,
I didn't think I was at all superstitious, but somehow, since
Aunt Mandy said so much about my starting it on Friday, I
hate for you ever to wear it. I don't see how my finishing
the dress on another day could have anything to do with your
welfare, but she was so firmly convinced that you were going
to die if you wore it that I 'm glad the thing is lost. ' '

"I am, too, mother, if that's the way of it. I'm not even
going to look for it any more, ' ' answered Irene.

As Mrs. Black spoke Louise was watching Hannah closely.
The woman couldn't turn pale, but her eyes began to roll, as
only a negro's can, and fright was written on her every
feature. Negroes are nothing if they are not superstitious.
One of the old sayings, in which they firmly believe, is this:
"The first person wearing a garment which has been started
on Friday and not completed on that day will surely die be-
fore the garment is worn out." And so there is no wonder
Hannah was frightened. For had not her daughter Dell been
wearing the dress, of which Irene and her mother spoke, all
day? She could not even wait to tell Mrs. Black what she
had come begging for, but with a "Good mawning. Miss
Anne, ' ' was gone.

"My!" said Louise. "Wouldn't I like to see what she
does when she gets home ! Dell has already worn that dress,
and we have always said that the redeeming quality about
Hannah is the unusual affection she has for Dell."

II.

Louise could not have her wish granted then, but here is
what Hannah did:

Calling Dell to her even before she reached their little
cabin, she began unfastening the dress with trembling fin-
gers. Her distress was so evident that Dell noticed it and
wanted to know, "Mammy, fer de Lawd's sake, what's de
matter wid ye ? "

"Laws, chile, don't ye ast me," her mother responded.
"Here's ye already been spo'tin' dis dress 'round here an'

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Miss Anne she done started ter make it on a Friday 'n didn't
git through wid it. ' '

"Mammy, den I'se gwine ter die, ain't I, mammy?"
Dell's eyes grew big with fright.

"Naw ye aint! not if dis ole nigger can help it. I'se
gwine ter wear dat dress out dis bery day 'n I know ye aint
gwine ter die dis day, is ye, honey?" Her manner was a
mixture of fright and anxiousness and tenderness, all.

"But, mammy, how's ye gwine ter wear it out? Dat's
what I wants ter know."

"I dunno. Lemme see. You go out yonder 'n run all
through dem briers. Maybe ye '11 git all scratched up, but
dat dress '11 shore git tore up, too. Ye ken fix up ye hands 'n
feet so dey won 't git hurt in de briers, and dey won 't come up
to yo' face, nohow, so ye won't git hurt. Anyhow, ye better
git scratched up a little dan ter die."

Dell reluctantly foUow^ed the instructions given. The
briers surely were not very inviting. But she finally went,
for, as she said, "she sho' wan't ready ter die den." The
"fixing" of hands and feet did not prove very effective.
Also, the vines were higher than Hannah had thought. Dell
came back into the house with feet, hands and face bleeding.
Strange to say, not a rent was to be found in her dress.

The dress was made of a smoothly finished cloth and so
was not easily torn by the briers. Hannah lost sight of this
fact, however, and thought surely that Dell must die. Her
agitation increased. She could scarcely bind up the torn
places on her daughter 's hands. Her whole body heaved with
sobs. But not all hope was gone yet. Finally, she began to
make new plans for the disposal of the dress.

One after another she banished the thoughts of giving it
away and burning or cutting it up. In none of those ways
would the dress be worn out, and so the danger remained
just as great for Dell.

Suddenly a brilliant idea entered Hannah's brain. "Lis-
ten, honey," she cried, "I sho' can wear it out on de wash-
bode! It'll be worn out sho' 'nough den, 'n dere won't be
no danger of yo' dyin'. Bring me dat washbode, quick!"

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Dell obeyed. She was as scared as her mother was. But
this plan seemed doomed to end in a failure, too. For after
two hours of patient rubbing the dress was still not "worn
out."

Hannah was not to be baffled, however. She finally drove
some nails into the board and, rubbing the dress over them,
literally wore it into tatters. Her hands were not in a very
whole condition, either, when she was through.

"Ye listen here, Dell," she said, "sho' thing, next time
I go 'n borrow( ?) ye any dress I'se gwine ter find out
whedder er no it wuz begun on a Friday, fust. Ye jes' wait
'n see."

Childhood

M. B. J., '11, Cornelian

Widenin', circlin' on the beach.
Way up high, then out of reach,
Come the big waves rollin' in,
Ticklin ' the toes of me an ' Min.
O, I say, it's lots of fun
When away from home you've run,
Just to wade as far as you e'n go
'Thout gettin' wet so mother '11 know.

^tate llormctl ^aga^itte

Published every month, October to June, by a Board of Editors elected from the
Adelphian and Cornelian I,iterary Societies, under the direction of an Advisory Com-
mittee chosen from the Faculty.

Terms: $1.00 per year, in advance. Single copy, fifteen cents.

Advisory Committee

Mr. W. C. Jackson Miss Juwa Dameron Miss Emma King
Miss Edna Ci,are Bryner

BoaLrd of Editors
AdelpKian CornellaLn

Marea Jordan, '11, Chief Myrtle B. Johnston, '11, Chief

E. Rose Batterham, '11 Lelia White, 'U

Margaret Cobb, '13 Clyde Fields, '12

Marea Jordan, Business Manager

VOL. XV OCTOBER, 1910 NO. 1

At tlie beginning of the present college year, it is necessary
to say something in regard to the change that
PRICE OF THE has been made in. the price of the Magazine
MAGAZINE Formerly it was customary to issue four num-

bers of the Magazine at the rate of fifty cents
per year. Last year five copies were issued at the same price.
This year we hope to raise the number to eight, but to do this
more money will be required. By the wise action of the Adel-
phian and Cornelian Literary Societies, it has been decided
that, instead of raising the price, as was first suggested, each
society shall appropriate $75.00, to be added to the treasury
of the Magazine, and that each girl in the society shall receive
the Magazine for the year. By this plan not only is the
amount of money received for fees nearly doubled, but also
the number of girls who read the Magazine will be increased

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

from one hundred and sixty to nearly six hundred. Hence,
the two greatest problems that have arisen, in connection with
the publication of the Magazine, price and circulation, have
been, as we believe, successfully met. The arrangement for
the Alumnee will be the same as before, but all persons other
than members of the societies, or of the Alumnse Association,
will pay the price of $1.00 per year.

To the new members of the Faculty, who have come to us this

A WELCOME TO ^^^^' ^^ ^°^^*^ ^^^ ^ ^?^^ °^ welcome. We
are glad to have you with us and to be able

THE NEW MEM- ^ i --i, jn ^^. • A^^ ^

to work with you and lor you. it is needless

to ask for your co-operation in affairs of

FACULTY local interest, for you are giving it every

day. "We, for our part, can only try to make your work among

us both pleasant and successful.

At different times the question of student government has
;p2g been agitated in our college. It would seem

STUDENTS' now, at last, that one step has been made in
that direction. Recently, President Foust met
each of the four regular classes and caused
three members from each class to be elected to a Students'
Council. This council, being composed of students, will be
much better acquainted with the needs of the student body
than the members of the Faculty, many of whom do not live
in the dormitories, could possibly be. The mission of this
council, therefore, will be to act as a medium between the
authorities of the college and the students. In its present
stage, this plan is entirely an experiment ; however, if it should
prove successful, it will probably aid materially in bettering
the conditions of college life.

Each year marks some great stride that has been made in the
advancement of the college. Two years ago,

THE GIRLS' the need for more class room was met by the

SITTING ROOMS erection of the Mclver Building; last year
necessary improvements were made in the

interior of the Students' Building; this year the splendid

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

new Infirmary is in process of construction. For all these
things we are duly thankful, but still some things remain to
be done.

At the main entrance to the Spencer Dormitory there are
two rooms that have been set apart as students' sitting rooms.
With the exception of a few good pictures on the walls, there
is absolutely nothing attractive about them. In their present
condition they are of no earthly use to anyone, but at very
little expense they could be made the most useful and pleas-
ant places in the dormitory. We are sadly in need of some
place where committee meetings can be held in comfort;
where small receptions and entertainments can be given, and
where girls can go for an hour 's reading or recreation. These
rooms, if properly furnished, would be ideal for such pur-
poses. This may seem a small matter, but, from the stand-
point of the student, it is a very important one. Not only
would greater beauty and convenience be insured, but the
home life of the girls would be greatly intensified.

At the beginning of our college year it is necessary and right
COLLEGE ^^^ ^^' ^^ ^ student body, to come to a defi-

nite realization of one of the fundamental
principles of this institution, of which each of
us has become a member. This principle is that the innate
worth of the individual must determine the status of every
girl. It will determine her position intellectually, for no bright,
clear-thinking girl can be kept anywhere but at the head
of her classes. But in the social world, often she is not recog-
nized except by the few friends who know her worth. She is
judged merely from appearances, by the pictures on her wall,
or by her beautiful clothes, things of minor importance in
estimating the worth of an individual.

Let us take, for instance, one of a great class of students
with whom we are familiar, the girl who pays her own way
through college. She borrows the money, perhaps, or else
earns it dearly by teaching through hot summer vacations.
Her clothes do not fit properly ; her room is poorly furnished ;

S T A TE NORMAL MAGAZINE

and she endures many other privations. Feeling the disad-
vantage of these externals, she is shy and timid, and withal,
modest. Few ever try to find out what the girl is really worth.
Part of such treatment may be the result of indifference, but
by far the greater part is due to pride. "We are afraid of her,
thinking, in our conceit, that we are a little better than she ;
that our family is a little older or more honorable than hers.
If she gathers up sufficient courage to ask us to go to walk
with her, we plead another engagement, and then "butt in"
on some of our friends for the sake of avoiding her. We
dread to be seen with her lest our own reputation should suf-
fer. Poor, flimsy reputation, shattered by a breath !

And so we live within our narrow walls of prejudice,
shutting others out and, at the same time, being shut in our-
selves. Ours is a democratic country; we are all free and
equal before the law. Let us also be a democratic college,
where every individual stands for just what she is worth,
for the good that is in her, regardless of family, clothes or
any other consideration.

Y. W. C. A.

Natalie Nunn, '11, Cornelian

Once again we have come together from every part of
our state and we are beginning our plans and work for a
prosperous year in college. There are many phases of work
that present themselves, and not one of these must be neglect-
ed, if we are to become the well-rounded students we hope
to be at the close of the college year.

The Young Women 's Christian Association is a world-wide
organization for mutual helpfulness to young women in a
physical, moral and spiritual way. It is an active, practical
organization, claiming the attention and interest of men and
women in various walks of life. It has a wonderful history
from its beginning to the present time. One of its great fields
of work is in the college of today. It is this particular field
which now offers to each of us an opportunity for definite
service and development. In our own association here, each
of us can find a little corner somewhere in which we can be
of service. Perhaps it will be definite work on some com-
mittee ; an opportunity to read a good article from the asso-
ciation monthly; attendance upon the semi-weekly prayer
service ; or even such a small thing as a smile to a fellow
student. But whatever it may be, we will be the happier
if it is done for the sake of Him in honor of whom our asso-
ciation exists.

To new girls we extend a cordial invitation to join us in
our work and to co-operate with us in making this the best
year the association has known in our college. The association
needs you, and in turn you cannot afford to miss the training
it has in store for every loyal member. With this invitation
goes the wish of every old association member that this may
be the very happiest and most useful year that you have
yet spent.

Athletic Notes

Welcome by the Athletic AssociaLtion

Annie Louise Wills, '11, Cornelian

In the name of the Athletic Association we wish to extend
a hearty welcome not only to the old girls in college but
especially to all the new ones.

It is the present hope and aim of the Athletic Association
to make this the best year in our work. We want more girls
to join with us and each to take a personal interest and a share
in the work. Every girl, we believe, is greatly benefited by
this work and these benefits are received in many ways.
The physical body needs just such exercise as the associa-
tion offers to keep up its strength. The brain is able to do
its work more easily if the body is in good condition. But
work in the association offers other advantages. Each girl
who throws herself into the work becomes a stronger girl
in character. She comes in contact with more girls and
learns to surmount more difficulties. And with these points in
our favor we think every girl should enroll her name on the
secretary's list and enter into our pleasures and privileges.
Again I say to you, a hearty welcome !

A CaLinping Trip

State Normal College,

September 24, 1910.
Dear Nan:

I couldn't resist the temptation to write today and tell
you what a glorious time we had last night on our first camp
supper. You just don't know what you are missing by not
being here this year. You should by all means have come

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

back, even if nothing was to be taken except post-graduate
domestic science and gym.

Miss McAllister, much to our grief, was unable to go with
us, but Miss Fort, Miss Long, Miss Graham, Miss Brjraer,
Miss Washburn, Miss McAllister's new assistant, and Dr.
Gudger were chaperones enough to keep us to a certain extent
straight.

These teachers, and the whole Senior Class with the excep-
tion of a few, left the Spencer Building, back way, through
the park, just about five o 'clock. We had started on that road
back of the barn, which leads out of Greensboro, when Nora
Carpenter (you remember her, don't you? — she was that
splendid goal man on our hockey team last year) stopped
us with a huge basket of pears. They were perfectly delicious.

Well, in a few minutes we proceeded on our journey to the
old camping place we had last year. It looked the same as
usual. We found a few burnt logs in the center of that big
open space — the remnants of one of our last year's frolics,
and a few long sticks we had used to broil bacon. It was get-
ting dark, but we soon had the woods as cheery as could be
with a big fire made of brushwood, collected near by, and
the dead trees that Dr. Gudger had cut down.

As soon as Zeke came in a buggy with our supper, we
set about to have a good time. We cut off blocks of cheese,
and toasted them on the ends of sticks, cooked bacon the
same way, and Dr. Gudger made coffee in a large can swung
over the fire. All this time, poor little Annie Goodloe Browne
was slicing bread on a stump, and didn't get a bite of cheese.
Let us hope she had a plenty of the tomatoes, fried potatoes,
pickles, and it seems to me a million other things we had to
eat.

After we had finished our supper, we sat in a circle around
the fire, and sang our class songs. Bonnie Broadfoot gave us
a few solos; then we sang all sorts of songs, from "Way
Down Upon the Swanee Eiver", to the song which made us all
homesick for 1910. Can you guess which one it was? Why,
"Clemantine" of course.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Zeke came out with the wagon about half past eight and
gathered up all the remnants of the feast, such as tin plates,
spoons and cups and frying pans. As soon as we had packed
him off, we put out the fire and started ourselves.

There wasn't a piece of moon, and the road was so dark
and rough that I nearly turned half dozen somersets before
we reached here, muddy and dirty as we could be.

We're planning another trip about Thanksgiving time.
Hope you can come over and go with us.

Write soon. As ever,

Eugenia.

Society Notes

With the CorneliaLns

Lelia White, '11, Cornelian

The first regular meeting of the Cornelian Literary Society
was held on the evening of Friday, Sept. 30, 1910. At the con-
elusion of the business meeting a most delightful musical
programme was given, which every one greatly enjoyed. The
first number was a selection from the opera, "II Trovatore",
rendered by Miss Annie Laurie Ramsey. Following this was
a solo by Miss Sadie Rice, after which Miss Myrtle Johnston,
accompanied by Miss Ramsey, beautifully rendered a violin
selection. Then to the delight of every one present, Mrs.
Sharpe recited "An Old Sweetheart of Mine", to the soft
strains of ' ' The Melody of Love ' ' played by little Miss Mary
Sharpe. The delight in hearing Mrs. Sharpe always brings
forth the heartiest applause and this time it resulted in her
saying for us ' ' Five Little Pigs Went to Market. ' '

With the AdelphiaLfis

E. Rose Batterham, '11, Adelphian

At the regular meeting of the Adelphian Literary Society
on the evening of the 30th of September a play, ' ' The Hour
Glass", a morality by Yeats, was given for the program.
The play represents the struggle of disbelief against faith
in the scholar's mind. It abounds in picturesque figures of
speech, and we learn the spirit of Old Ireland through the
quaint brogue of the people. As the wise man and scholar,
Minnie Littmann interpreted her part extremely well, showing
the anxiety to be received into the kingdom after years of
doubt. lone Grogan acted with all the capriciousness of a
fool, now sober, now merry, in the end being the one to save
the wise man through belief in God.
52

STATE

NORMAL

MAGAZINE

Mary Bruner took the part of the wise man's wife, for-
getting the kingdom in her housewifely cares, with Mary
Hanes and May Brooks as his children intimidated with dis-
belief by their father. "In a gown, the color of embers",
Coline Austin was a beautiful angel, mercilessly dealing
out justice. Life and vigor was lent to the play by the wise
man's pupils, Mary Tennent, Grace Stanford, Effie Baines,
Ethel McNairy and Mamie Boren.

Among Ourselves

Margaret Cobb, '12, Adelphian

On a recent Friday night the Normal students and faculty
enjoyed the unusual privilege of taking a trip around the
world. The Junior Class obtained special rates and offered
the trip, including tips and all extras, for the reasonable
price of twenty-five cents. Although the night was rainy and
disagreeable, full appreciation of the opportunity was attested
by the large number of ' ' tourists ' ' who availed themselves of
it. The countries visited were: France and Japan, in
different parts of the Administration Building ; Africa, in the
Curry Building; and America in the Gymnasium.

After leaving the ticket office in Spencer Building, the
' ' tourists ' ' first went to France. Here dainty French maidens
in all the succession of costumes that Paris has created,
danced the minuet while their country cousins served fruit
punch. From France the long sea voyage to Japan was made,
where the little kimona girls welcomed their honorable guests
with quaint Japanese drills. Fearing the tourists were
fatigued after their long journey, shy little maids begged that
they would deign to taste their tea. In Africa a cabin, whose
walls were covered with newspapers, was the scene of a negro
Cakewalk and negro songs of all kinds.

Popping peanuts, the homesick travelers returned to
America, where many old friends were ready to greet them.
Lest they should forget their home in recollection of foreign
deeds, a few facts about ' ' Georgie ' ' were given, and a Virginia
reel made many a tourist's heart glad. Handshaking and
greetings were exchanged and every wanderer went home
with the feeling that America was the nicest country of all.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Faculty

Dr. Foust and Miss Windfield attended the Summer
School of the University of Chicago, where the latter is remain-
ing this winter to take a brief course in English.

Miss Mendenhall, Miss Strong and Miss Moore attended
the Harvard Summer School.

Miss Bryner taught in a Reform School at Morganza,
Penn., after which she visited in Washington, D. C, and
North Carolina.

Miss Jamison spent a very useful summer lecturing on
Domestic Science for the Farmers' Institute.

Dr. Gudger was in Beaufort looking after the fisheries
there, Mr. Jackson spent a pleasant summer in New England,
and Mr. Hammel enjoyed a visit to his old home, Baltimore.

Mr. Smith taught English in the Summer School of the
University of Virginia.

Among those who enjoyed the mountain scenery were,
Misses Schenck, King, McLelland and McAllister, Messrs.
Brockmann, Merritt and Forney.

Those who spent a quiet summer at home were, Misses
Dameron, Fort, Petty, Raines, Brockmann, Harris, Boddie,
Hill, Kirkland, Lee, Byrd, Parker, Snyder, Mitchell, Mc-
Adams, Robinson and Long, Mrs. Sharp e, Mrs. Albright and
Mrs. Woolard.

Miss Coit was at her post all summer.

"Wedding bells have rung for two members of our faculty.
Miss Banner has become Mrs. Joe Gant, and Mr. Matheson
has claimed Jean Booth, a Normal girl of nineteen and nine.

Miss Thurston has returned to our Training School.

We are indeed glad to welcome the new members of our
faculty: Miss Crumpton and Miss Daniel in the English
Department; Miss Mullen as assistant librarian; Miss
Bryan in the French and Miss Washburn in the Physical
Culture Departments ; Mr. Hill as head of the Music Depart-
ment, and Miss McArn as Dr. Foust 's stenographer.

Alumnae

Mellie Cotchett and Gertrude Person are teaching in Wil-
son; Pearl Robertson and Annie Martin in Salisbury; Emily
Hyman, Jane Summerell and Anna Vernon in North Wilkes-
boro; Laura Weill in Wilmington; Katie Kime and Alma
Fountain in Lincolnton; Nora B. Wilson in Charlotte, and
Annie Maud Pollard in Winston.

Cl&ss of 1909

There are in Grreensboro this winter seven members of
the class of 1909 — Jean Booth Matheson, Bessie Cauble,
Okla Dees, Cora Hart, Flieda Johnson, Mary Baldwin Mitchell,
and Clara Sloan.

Paulina Hassell, Florence Landis and Claude Umstead are
teaching in Weldon.

Edna Duke and Kate Jeffreys are at Graham.

Evelyn Gudger is at her home in Marshall, and Lola Lasley
is at her home in Burlington.

Velna Pope is again teaching in Hamlet and Jessie Smoak
in Rockingham.

Hal Morrison is at home in Statesville.

Nettie Dixon is teaching in Murphy and Linda Shuford
in Lilesville.

In Lighter Vein

Clyde Fields, '12

"Ef You Don't Wattch 0\it"

A lovely crowd of new girls 've come to our school to stay,
To brush the cobwebs from their brain and learn just what to say,
To get an education and be polished as can be
Is what they're seeking after, and it's just fine to see.
And all us old girls are as glad as e 'er you saw

To welcome, cheer and help them, since that's just what we're for.
We're sure they'll like this place, if they'll watch what they're about,
But the Faculty '11 get them
Ef

They
Don't
Watch
Out.

Onc't they was a new girl who came here long ago,
And such a one has never been since that time nor before.
She made her themes so flowery that her teacher called her down,
And G. E. D. she'd never say and so she'd get a frown;
Her French was quite a nuisance and it got her in a fix.
And Cicero's Orations brought forth many a tear and six;
She sang in vocal music till she gave up growing stout;
And the Faculty '11 get you,
Ef
You

Don't
Watch
Out.

And once a new girl did believe we told her quite a tale,

When we said that if she didn't work, why she would surely fail.

She wouldn't sweep her room clean and her soap-dish was a sight;

Her hygiene lectures had not helped a single little mite.

She wouldn't go to walk when the bell rang loud and clear;

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

Slipped out after light bell, without one bit of fear.
But soon that girl was missing and she was nowhere about;
And the Faculty '11 get you,
Ef
You

Don't
Watch
Out.

And all us old girls know that when the days are rather blue,
And the six's come a rolling in and you feel like saying "whoo".
You'd better keep your senses and be careful how you act.
And cram that silly head of yours as full as it can pack.
You'd better leave off feasting when the teachers are asleep (?)
And stop a puffing out your hair with rats that like to peep,
And put some stuff inside your head and change your entire route,
Or the Faculty '11 get you
Ef
You

Don't
Watch

Out. L, w., 'ii, Cornelian.

New Grirl: "I wonder why they call the Main Building
the Admiration Building?"

Dr. Gudger (to a student in Physical Geography) :
"Where is the North Pole?"

Student: "Why the North Pole is where Peary left it."

Ruth F. : " The English teacher said I should have made
my paper more descriptive and not so much heresy or hear
say, I don 't know which. ' '

Freshman (to upper classman) : "Won't you please tell
me where Miss Broadfoot's hall is?"

The Director of Physical Culture to a group of new girls
who were just outside the Gymnasium door: "Are you
reporting for Junior Gymnastics?"

One member of the group of girls: "No, we came to
take physical culture. ' '

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

At lunch the other day a crowd of girls were discussing
the Farce of Julius Caesar. Virginia M. very innocently
asked: "Was Hamlet Caesar's ghost?"

Edith L. (in explaining Sir Humphrey Gilbert's route of
travel) : "Sir Humphrey Gilbert coasted from Laborador to
Newfoundland. ' '

One of the girls was very much surprised to know that the
Annual only comes out once a year.

A new theory for the composition of the atmosphere has
recently been discovered: That on cool damp nights, the
atmosphere is made up of tiny particles of water and damp-
ness.

The new students have contributed the following remark-
able statements to the thirty volumes of "Famous Sayings
of Famous People ' ', already well known in the college :
"Chaucer wrote Cranberry Tails."
"After this Macbeth had terrible day dreams."
"Emerson was an unremarkably smart child."
"The Witches told Macbeth that Bunker's Hill should
rise upon him. Bunker's Hill did rise upon him with a
mighty halt and he was overcome."

"In Lycidas Milton grieves over one of his friends who
was drowned in crossing the Hellespont/'

' ' The most peculiar Fauna, the Vesuvius Volcano, is found
in Italy."

Some old girls went a calling

On some new girls one clear night,
' ' Now learn our names ' ', the visitors said,
' ' They are Brown, Green and Nunn White. ' '

L. W., '11, Cornelian.

STATE NORMAL MAGAZINE

"Our GoaLtie"

Who fears our Goatie?
"I", the new girl moans,
"With shudders and groans,
"I fear your Goatie."

Who rode our Goatie ?
"I", the old girl brags,
"With my clothes in rags,
"I rode our Goatie."

Who '11 mount our Goatie ?
"I", the new girl weeps,
"Whether he butts or he leaps,
" I '11 mount your Goatie. ' '

Who'll sing his praises?

The new girl shouts, "Me!
"When initiated I be
"I'll sing his praises."

'K. B. 8., '12, Cornelian.
E. B. B., '11, Adelphian.

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