The Sweet Briar Magazine

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LIBRARY

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OF

Sweet Briar College

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The Sweet Briar
Magazine

Vol.1

No. 1

November, 1909

SWEET BRIAR COLLEGE, VIRGINIA

Contents

PAGE

Sweet Briar Song (Poem). M. Pinkerton, '12 3

A Sketch of Mrs. Indiana Fletcher Williams. L.

M. Hooper, '10 4

The Shadow-Child. M. Pinkerton, '12 9

Fairies (Poem). /. Hurt, '11 13

The Legend of Saint Hilda the Good. B. C.

Shand, '12 14

The Minuet (Poem). M. Pinkerton, '12 17

A Eeverie. E. W. Grifjiin, '10 18

The Wedding — A Monologue. M. P. Harris 21

Editorials 24

Athletics 27

Y. W. C. A. Notes 30

Social Notes 32

Personals 36

Rhyme and Reason 37

/ 4-/ 0 j

15Mint$$ ^anager^ Announcement

The Sweet Briar Magazine, which is conducted by the student
body of Sweet Briar College, is at present published quarterly.

We call the attention of our readers, and especially of the students,
to the firms who advertise with us and who thus have contributed
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Subscription, $1.50 per year. Our advertising rates are, per year:

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Address all business communications to

Margaret Browning,

Sweet Briar College.

Published Quarterly by the Students of Sweet Briar College

Vol. 1

SWEET BRIAR, VA., NOVEMBER, 1909

No. I

§>toeet IBrtar ^ong

WEET BRIAR ! Sweet Briar ! the flower fair,
The rose that on your crest you wear
Shall never fade, but always bear
Thy beauty, O Sweet Briar!

Sweet Briar ! Sweet Briar ! thy columns white
Shine on the hills, a beacon light
Of truth to burn with radiance bright
Forever, O Sweet Briar!

Sweet Briar \ Sweet Briar ! we sing to thee,
May thy foundations ever be
Strong as thy hills ; thy purity

That of thy rose, Sweet Briar!

M. Pinkerton, '12.

4 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

a ^betcf) of ^r0, SnOtana jHetcijer aniiliams

[The editors of The Sweet Briar Magazine think it most fitting
that a sketch of our founder, Mrs. Williams, should occupy a most
prominent place in this the first issue of our college magazine. They
think this because they feel that all who know and love Sweet Briar
will feel a vital interest in the woman whose long-thought-of and
cherished dream was the college which we know to-day, and that there-
fore they will be glad to have this opportunity to read an authentic
statement of the facts of her life.]

|RS. INDIANA FLETCHER WILLIAMS
was born in Lynchburg, Va. Her parents
were Elijah Fletcher and Maria Crawford
Fletcher, who had four children — Sidney,
Lucien, Indiana and Elizabeth. Her
paternal grandfather, who was a well-to-do
farmer, lived in Burlington, Vt. He was very ambitious
for his sons and gave them all excellent educations, but
particularly Mr. Elijah Fletcher, who was graduated from
Amherst College, Massachusetts.

As his health was not at all strong, Mr. Fletcher, when a
young man just out of college, determined to go South to
live. Fortunately in Washington he was introduced by a
Congressman from Vermont to the Hon. David Garland,
who then represented this district of Virginia. Then it was
that Mr. Garland, in helping Mr. Fletcher choose a home in
Virginia, advised him to come to New Glasgow.

Mr. Fletcher, pleased with his suggestion, soon after ar-
ranged his affairs and set the day for his departure. As an
evidence of his pluck and determination it is said that he
even walked from Washington to New Glasgow in order to
see and study the country. He carried only the bare neces-
sities for the trip tied up in a large bandanna handkerchief,
while his baggage followed him by wagon.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 5

In New Glasgow he was offered the principalship of the
academy, which he accepted. As he was admirably adapted
to the profession he had chosen by native taste and education,
he taught for several years with great success.

It was in New Glasgow that he met the beautiful Miss
Maria Crawford, whom he later married. Her family was
very prominent in this part of Virginia. Her father, who
was Clerk of Amherst County, was a wealthy and influential
citizen. Many of the same Crawford family, who after-
wards moved South, were also distinguished people.

Shortly after Mr. Fletcher came South to live, one of his
brothers moved West, and finally settled in Indiana, where
as a banker he became a very wealthy man. He was the
founder of the Fletcher National Bank, now one of the
largest financial institutions in that state. This Western
brother, in compliment to Mr. Fletcher's adopted state,
called one of his daughters Virginia, and, in return, Mr.
Elijah Fletcher named his daughter Indiana. However,
Mrs. Williams never liked the name, and always softened it
to "Indie."

Mr. Fletcher a few years previous to this had moved to
Lynchburg. Here he established the Lynchburg Virginian,
at that time the most influential Whig paper of this section
of the state. He was a man of wide influence, a vestryman
of St. Paul's Church in Lynchburg, and at the same time
greatly interested in the church at Amherst.

He, too, gave his children the very finest opportunities for
education to be had at that time. His sons, Sidney and
Lucien, were sent to Yale; his daughters, Indiana and
Elizabeth, first to a convent near Georgetown, then to St.
Agnes, Bishop Doane's celebrated school in Albany. After
this the girls with their brother Sidney went abroad to study
in Paris. At the end of several years spent there, they took

6 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

an extended tour through Italy, Egypt, Russia and England.
They returned home probably reckoned among the most
extensive tourists of their day.

Miss Indiana Fletcher was considered a wonderful per-
former on the harp, while her sister, Elizabeth, was equally
proficient on the piano. Soon after their return to America,
a concert for charitable purposes was given in Lynchburg.
Both girls took part and many people remember, even to-day,
how wonderful their music was considered.

Mr. Fletcher's family, at this time, lived alternately at
Sweet Briar and at their town home in Lynchburg. When
any social functions were given in the latter place the young
ladies were driven into the city in their old family coach,
drawn by four handsome gray horses.

Scarcely had the young ladies been fairly launched into
society, after their return from Europe, when the death of
their mother occurred ; then, only a few years later, that of
their father. Before their mourning was laid aside the war
came on; hence, even as a young girl, Mrs. Williams went
into society very little. She, however, had some very dear
friends in New York — the Misses Williams, whom she invited
to visit her at Sweet Briar. It was here that she met their
brother, a young minister, who had come down to escort his
sisters home.

This brother fell deeply in love with Miss Indiana, and for
a time, even, they were engaged to be married. Later, be-
cause of some misunderstanding, she discarded him, and
accordingly Mr. Williams determined to sail for Europe.
Repenting at the last moment, however, she not only ordered
her florist to decorate his stateroom with emblematic flowers,
but had a note delivered to him after the ship had gotten well
under sail. Mr. Williams wrote a most appreciative letter
from the other side and the matter was made up. Before he

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 7

recrossed the ocean, however, the Civil War had stopped
communication, and thus during the long, dreary years of
war they knew nothing of each other.

In the early part of June, 1865, as soon as the cessation of
hostilities made it possible, Mr. Williams made a most unex-
pected appearance at Sweet Briar. Their marriage was ar-
ranged to take place in August, by which time they expected
that the railroad would be repaired, thereby making travel to
the North possible. Accordingly they were married in Lynch-
burg early in the morning of a day late in August, 1865.
The ceremony was a very quiet one, with only a few people
present.

As Mr. Williams retired from active ministry after their
marriage, for a number of years, they were able to divide
their time between their homes in Sweet Briar and New
York. It was at Sweet Briar that their daughter, Daisy
Williams, was born in 1867. As she grew older and her
education required it the family spent more and more time
in New York. She was a remarkably bright, simple and
lovable little girl ; and, as she was their only child, in her
was centered all the affection and hopes of her parents.

- We can imagine how happy her life at Sweet Briar must
have been, and how congenial her occupations. In writing
to her mother, who was in New York several times while
Daisy remained at Sweet Briar, we get little glimpses of her
daily life. Her time seems to have been occupied indoors
chiefly, with her tutors and music teachers, or in practising
upon her much-loved harp. Out of doors, she spent a great
part of her time among her flowers, in long rides around the
country with her father, and in visits to her aunt, Mrs.
Mosby, who lived at St. Angelo. The child's health, however,
seems never to have been very good, which fact was a source
of constant anxiety to her parents.

8 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

The life of the family at Sweet Briar seems to have been
almost ideal. As they were all musical, their quiet life here
gave them the opportunity to indulge their taste to the fullest
extent. One of their greatest pleasures was to spend whole
evenings playing together, Mr. Williams on the flute, Mrs.
Williams at the harp, and Daisy at the piano.

Mrs. Williams, not only gifted by nature but also fitted
by education and travel, was a fine conversationalist and a
woman of finished manners. She was well equipped to enjoy
society, but her anxiety for her daughter's health prevented
her from taking an active part in it. This anxiety was un-
fortunately well founded, for her daughter's death occurred
when she was only seventeen years old. This, followed
closely by the death of her husband, was a blow from which
she never recovered. Thus it is that the latter years of her
life were such sad ones ; that she did not mingle in society,
and saw very little of anyone other than her nearest friends.
These latter years of her life, however, were not spent en-
tirely at Sweet Briar ; for, as she was not at all strong,
hence needing care and attention, she lived for several years
with a dear friend in Amherst. Here in the midst of a
large family, several of whom were musicians, she lived a
very congenial and comparatively happy life. In the early
fall she had gone back to Sweet Briar, but was preparing to
return to Amherst when her death occurred, October 29,
1900.

To the last day of her life her every thought and action
were directed towards one end, which was the founding of
a school as a memorial to her daughter. This idea appeared
in her will, the fulfillment of which has laid the foundation
for our college. Louise M. Hooper.

Note. — I am greatly indebted to Captain and Mrs. Payne, of Am-
herst, for the facts contained in this paper.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Wbt ^J)aDoto*CJrilO

OR a long time I had heard, on the far side
of the hedge, a scraping among the dead
leaves, and in the pauses a child's voice
singing wordless songs. The singer, I
thought, must be the gardener who had
tied up the ragged cosmos flowers that
yesterday had sprawled over the ground in the box-circle where
I sat. At the thought, I saw it was true, for a child came
through the opening in the hedge, brushing the leaf-mould
from her short skirts and pushing back long curls from a
high forehead, and blue eyes set far apart. She sat on the
ground beside the crumpled flowers and began to smooth the
pink petals through her earth-stained fingers.

"Do you live here ?" I asked, for I had thought the house
empty and its owners dead. The child quickly raised her
face with a faint surprise in her wide eyes. She looked
down the green box-walk, through the dark yew-tree arch at
the closed shutters of the house beyond, before she answered —
"Yes."

"Do you allow people to go through the house V I went on.

"Yes ; let me show it to you," she smiled, almost eagerly.

The child ran before me down the walk, where she waited

on the porch, beside the door which was half-opened on a

dark, cool hall. We went in and started up the white-railed

stairs, but on the lowest step she checked me.

"Somebody told me once," she began shyly, "that a little

10 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

girl lived here a long time ago — a little girl who died. Let's
pretend I am that little girl, and you are visiting me in this
house ?"

As I preceded her up the stairway —

"Remember," she laughed, "that you've just come in your
old coach, and it's waiting for you now by the turn in the
hedge. Can't you hear the horses stamping?"

We waited in the dim silence of the upper hall until I
fancied I heard hoofs pawing the hard clay road. I could
see nothing in the gloom, but the child found a door-knob
beside me. We entered a room, where I waited in the dark-
ness while the child ran to open the shutters.

"This," she began, as I stood dazzled by the sudden rush
of sunlight, "is the best bedroom."

As my eyes grew accustomed to the light I saw a tall
four-poster with flowered curtains. There was fresh matting
on the floor and pink cosmos flowers in a glass jar.

"Do you like it ?" she asked eagerly. "JSTow we'll go to
my room."

We went down the stairs, past a tall gilt mirror, and paused
at a half-open door.

"This is the library, but we can't go in. Papa's in there
writing."

We tiptoed hastily by, but I turned my head and through
the crack saw a man's shoulder bent over a table.

"Was this the little girl's?" I asked as we went into the
dark, close-shut room.

"Yes," said the child softly. "But you're forgetting. It's
my room and my desk and my flowers in the windows." As
she spoke heavy furniture stood out dimly among the shadows,
and the light in the square panes came through green leaves

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 11

and pink transparent petals of flowers. The child called me
to the bed and I saw that it was heaped with little piles of
linen and silk and satin, folded and uncut.

"These were hers," she said gently.

"The other little girl's ? She had a great many lovely
things."

"Yes," the child replied slowly, "but I think she would
rather have had some other children to play with."

I had forgotten our game in thinking of the other girl,
who would have been almost an old woman now if she had
lived. I looked across at the child, who stood on the other
side of the bed, folding a piece of pink-sprigged lawn. She
looked up with a little start when I said —

"Shall we go on?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled; "I'll show you my harp."

I followed her through the hall again into a room of dim
furniture wrapped in linen covers. She lifted a corner of
one to show me the bright brocade beneath. A great square
piano filled one angle of the room, and beside it the gold
harp frame showed through its worn green cover. The
child patted the torn case.

"Do you play on it much?" I asked.

"I did. I mean I haven't practiced much, and some of
the strings are broken. Come over here and I'll show you
the Japanese cabinet."

She started across the room and I turned to follow her,
but stopped to look again at a picture that I had seen first
only as the vague outline of a face. It grew clear now as
the portrait of a child — a little girl with long, quaint curls
and a gentle face. I looked from it to the child coming back

12 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

from the cabinet. A little wind banged the shutter to, and in
the sudden twilight that it made I could see her only as a
shadow among the shadows.

"Is that the picture of the little girl — ?" I began, and
stopped.

"That died," finished the child, "and that you didn't
know in the garden, and everybody else that comes here
knows ? So when I saw you didn't I thought I'd pretend I
was real." She looked wistfully around the room in which
she had been real.

We walked silently back to where the door we had entered
opened on the sunlight. Outside under the yew-tree arch
the child looked back once before she was lost among the
boxwood. Behind me the door swung open on a bare and
empty room.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 13

jFaines

OLL back, roll back, ye vapory mists,

From the vales which now you clothe,
And show me the dell where the fairies dwell,

And the elves and trolls repose.
Where night by night, by the moonbeam bright,
They chatter and dance with delight,
And day by day at the dawn's first ray
They scamper and vanish away.

Show me the place where the rivulet flows
Over rock, over sand, and through dell;

Where the elf doth float his yellow-leaf boat
Round the coves he loves so well.

And night by night by his fire-fly light

He steers and rows with his might,

While day by day he moors, so they say,

In some dark subterranean bay.

Show me the place where the moss-carpet lies

So soft, so cool and so green;
Where round and round as the valleys resound

They chant the praise of their queen.
Where night by night with their fairy-feet white
They dance fairy dances so light,
And day by day the long slanting ray
Hunts in vain for some mischievous fay.

Jennie Huet, '11.

14

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Cf)e Legend of ^aint ^ilDa tfje aooD

; TIRING the reign of Edward VI the Prot-
estants, being eager to establish the new
religion and demolish the old, wrought
great ruin to the ecclesiastical buildings of
England. Not the least of these to suffer
was Whitby Abbey, that venerable edifice
in western Yorkshire, where many years before Saint Hilda
the Good had lived a pious life, serving the Lord in prayer
and fasting, never turning away the poor from her door.
Such in fact was her piety and the power of her spirituality
that when she prayed the very snakes around Whitby turned
to stone.

However, the Protestants, ignoring all this in their
religious zeal, burned the beautiful building and turned
away its inmates. The chapel of Saint Mary, alone, they
left standing, but broke its exquisite stained windows, white-
washed the walls, and erected huge wooden tablets upon
which the commandments were painted, in the space where
the statues of the blessed Virgin and other saints had stood.
IJor the priests they substituted a minister, who wore no sur-
plice and used the new "Book of Common Prayer," instituted
by Edward in place of the missal of former days which the
good Saint Hilda had so earnestly read. Could this be right ?
the people questioned among themselves, though they did not
dare to protest openly, for Warwick's tyranny was well
known throughout England, and many a faithful Catholic
had been burned for his religious beliefs.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 15

On one particular evening, as the parishioners slowly
climbed the hundred and ninety-nine stone steps leading to
Saint Mary's, they could not but feel a strangeness in the
air. The uncanny sea fret which enveloped everything, and
hid the red tiled roofs below, had a mystery about it which
seemed to foretell the occurrence of something momentous.
Would the so-called reformers come and burn the vchapel as
they had burned the abbey? Hardly, for the Protestants
had not only placed their own minister there, but had forced
on the people the new and unfamiliar religion. On the
parishioners came, unable to banish this presentiment. They
entered the church silently saying the prayers which they
had learned in the days gone by — the prayers which their
fathers before them had loved, yet the prayers which they
dared not now openly use.

When the minister had read the English service he as-
cended to the pulpit, where he began his sermon. In this
sermon he upheld the new beliefs and condemned the ancient
church, the prayers to the Virgin and saints, the celebration
of mass, and all of the traditions made sacred by age. And
the voice of him who preached arose through a strange, still
silence, a leaden silence of disapprobation and sadness. This
silence was the spirit of Saint Hilda the Good. Because
they must listen to this usurper upbraiding the faith of their
fathers, rebellion burned in their hearts and bewilderment
was written on every face. Would Heaven suffer this to
go on?

Although there was no wind, the heavy oaken door, creak-
ing on its old hinges as though it alone dared to protest
against this outrage, slowly opened. In rolled a cloud of
sea fret. The sacristan closed the door, but the mist instead
of flitting away became more and more dense and gathered

16 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

blackness around it, finally taking the form of a mm dressed
in her black robes and white linens. The preacher paused in
terror, not knowing what to do, but the people fell on their
knees, for they knew that their patron saint had returned to
them in time of their greatest need. On finding her children
listening to these words of heresy and schism, her beautiful
eyes, which were filled with reproach and entreaty, seemed to
call out to them to return to the faith she had taught their
fathers, yet she said not a word. In fear and trembling the
preacher descended from the pulpit and fled down the
hundred and ninety-nine steps, never to return. As slowly
as she had come did the holy nun vanish into the air. The
people, left to themselves, began to chant the litany of the
saints as had been their custom in days gone by. And their
chanting arose through a strange, still silence, a golden silence
of beatitude and love. This silence was the spirit of Saint
Hilda the Good.

Barbara C. Shand.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

17

C&e Minuet

LIPPEE'D feet that lightly go,
Graceful bow and curtsy low,
On the measure stately, slow,
Of the minuet.

Falling scarf and flutt'ring lace
Float and fly with airy grace
On the tripping, even pace
Of the minuet.

Merry hearts that gayly beat
To the tune of dancing feet,
Moving through the music sweet
Of the minuet.

Grace of days that now are dead,
Charm of hours that long since fled,
Come again in stately tread
Of the minuet.

Mary Pinkerton, '12.

18

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

a l&etoene

[LAM! bang!" went the door of the chicken
house as small William Romney stepped
over the threshold and violently closed it.
"Everybody here ? Let me see. One, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight. That's
right," exclaimed William. "Gee, but
you're a fine lot of turkeys ! 'Rastus, you're a peach, old
fellow, and I'm going to save you for our Thanksgiving
dinner. The rest of you boys I'm going to sell, but, oh, you
'Rastus, the cook's going to chop off your head in the morn-
ing. No, I'm sorry, but it can't be helped, for you yourself
know that day after to-morrow will be Thanksgiving. Good
night; sweet dreams."

With this monologue finished, William pushed open the
door, went out, and began to lock up with exceeding great
care. "For," thought he, "I can't take any chances on losing
my prize turkeys to-night."

After the key had been given a final twist and the sound
of William's disappearing whistle showed that he was near-
ing the house, poor old turkey 'Rastus lost his proud look of
indifference. Was it really true that this was to be his last
night on earth? Yes, it must be, for William had said so in
his most serious way, and William knew better than anyone
else.

Alas, alas, if he could only live the last six months over
again ! To think his mother had always warned him of this

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 19

untimely death, and he had never really believed it. Thanks-
giving ! He had learned that dread word in his first vocabu-
lary, but its deep significance had never appealed to him
before as it did now. Well, since he had but little time left,
let him spend it in the best way possible. Perhaps he had
better try to develop faith in the religious doctrines he had
heard, but which, woe to him, he had carelessly disregarded.
Thank goodness, William had given him time to repent and
to turn his thoughts turkey-heavenward.

'Rastus remembered that when his mother has received her
final warning, that she, pious turkey that she was, began at
once to enumerate all of her petty faults and ask forgiveness
for them. Accordingly, since he had now received his death
warrant, he resolved to follow her example.

In the first place, the very earliest thing he could recall
was a scolding he had received for pecking one of his little
brothers. That always had been a great fault of his — an
eagerness to fight on each and every occasion. And in this
case he had started a fight without the least provocation.
Again, from youth up he had been inclined to be greedy.
Oh, how he remembered the sound whipping he had gotten
for snatching away from poor old Mr. Bill Turkey the piece
of food the latter had found! Such a lesson ought to have
cured him, but it didn't. Too late he realized that he had
always been greedy, and not only greedy, but vain as well.
Vanity, vanity ! He had been naught but vanity ! He could
see himself spreading his beautiful feathers and proudly
strutting ahead of the rest of the flock. It was queer, queer,
that this admiration he had so cherished in the past should
now be the cause of his death.

But, oh, he had overlooked one of his worst traits — the
dreadful habit of flirting. How could he have been so cruel !

20 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

To think of the number of hearts he had wounded by a
single glance, and then left to break for lack of further ones !
Only yesterday had he been responsible for the breaking off
of an engagement. True, he hadn't meant to break it off
seriously, for with him flirting was merely a pleasant pastime.
Never mind. He was going to die to-morrow and matters
might be mended after his death.

Here two great tears flowed down his beak and interrupted
his train of thought. Brushing these away with a feather,
he sadly remarked to himself that there would be no sleep for
him that night. But Providence is kind to animals as well
as to human beings, so it was not long before 'Rastus, over-
come by such unusual emotions, fell into an exhausted
slumber.

Thanksgiving day dawned bright and clear. Services were
over and everyone was happy in his expectations of dinner.
Especially was this true at the Romney house, where Mr.
Romney, with William a close second, triumphantly led his
guests into the dining room and pointed with pride to the
deliciously roasted turkey before his plate.

"My, my," said the parson, rubbing his hands, "what a
beautiful bird! How grateful we should be that the turkey
was created brainless so that we could kill and eat him with-
out a scruple of conscience."

But alas ! All of this shows how little man really knows.
Eugenia Whyte Gkiffin, '10.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 21

"€J)e eOeDDing"— a Monologue

>OW d'ye do, Mis' Jones? I jest bin over
ter see Mis' Banks, an' I 'lowed I'd come
over an' tell ye the news. 'Spose ye don't
know erbout the weddin'. Hit's been kep'
a secret, but Mis' Banks she told me an'
told me not ter tell nobody, so ye mustn't
breathe it to a soul, 'cause hit goin' ter be a surprise. It's
Sarie Anne Banks' weddin' an hit's goin' to come off soon as
ever she gits her new white frock done, an' that'll be next
week some time.

"You'd never guess till the cock crows, Mis' Jones, who
'tis she a-goin' ter marry, an' I can't tell ye neither, 'cause
I promised not ter. But if ye promise, 'pon yer word an'
honor, not ter tell a human, I'll tell ye right now, 'cause I
know ye'r sure ter hear it sooner or later, an' hit mout as
well be me as tells yer as anybody else. Hit's that town
boy, Harry, what's been sparkin' yore gal Mamie. Now,
Mis' Jones, ev'rybody's been thinkin' sure Harry an'
Mamie'd make a match of it; but 'tain't always what yer
think's goin' ter happen as always happens. Anyhow, it's
mighty plain that Mamie's in love with him, an' I'm bound
she'll be powerful broke up over it, so yer better not say
nothin' to 'er about it, Mis' Jones, lessen ye think ye better
kinder prepare 'er for it by degrees. Pore gal, hit's mighty
bad ter have a disappointed love affair. I know some'n 'bout
it myself; but mine didn't happen jest in this way, 'cause
my beau he died; an' from that day tell this I ain't never

22 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

had no use for a man. I says ter m'self then that I'd be a
old maid the longest day I lived, an' I been true ter m'self
in that promise.

"Pore Mamie, she shore is got my sympathy, 'cause hit's
as shore ter break 'er heart as hit's dark when night comes.
Now, Mis' Jones, I jest thought yer oughter know this 'fore
it come on ye unawares. Anything comin' sudden-like's
bound ter be terrible, an' I think ter m'self that the blow'd
most kill Mamie, let it come anyway it might, an' ter ease it
up er little I'd let er know afore hand.

"How do I know all this, Mis' Jones ? Why, hit's as
plain as two an' two's four. Didn't I go in on 'em a-makin'
Sarie Anne a fine white frock like no gal has 'ceptin' at her
weddin', an' didn't I hear 'em a-talkin' when they didn't
know I'd come in : 'Sarie, you sho' will look fine in this
frock,' says her ma, 'an' with them white slippers an' gloves
an' them pretty flowers, all the folks won't hardly know ye.
I seen Harry up town this mornin',' says Mis' Banks, 'an'
he wus er astin' erbout ye.'

"Then, Mis' Jones, I coughed, 'cause I didn't want ter
be a-hearin' things as wasn't meant fer my ears, so I jest
coughed kinder soft-like, an' made out I'd jest come in. You
jest oughter seen how quick ev'rything wus hushed up. I
seen they wus try in' ter hide ev'rything, so I jest walks right
into the room where Mis' Banks an' Sarie Anne wus. On
the bed, kivered up with a sheet, wus a big pile of some'n;
'course I knowed what 'twas, but I didn't let on. I jest walks
up ter the bed an' kinder raises up the sheet an' say, 'Land
sakes, Sarie, ye must be a-goin' ter git married,' says I ; an'
then she jest owns right square up an' says, 'Yes, some time ;
don't tell nobody, though, 'pon yer word an' honor.' An'
'course, Mis' Jones, I wouldn't tell nobody 'ceptin' you.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 23

Then I ast 'er pint blank if Harry wus ter be the groom,
an' she turned red as er beet an' says, 'Yes, Harry's ter be
the groom,' says she ; an' then I hurries over ter tell you'uns,
'cause my heart was jest er ackin' fer Mamie, pore gal.

"Now I must be goin' Mis' Jones ; I have ter stop at the
Kimsey's on er little business, an' at Squire Anderson's,
'fore I go home. 'Spect Squire Anderson'll marry Sarie
an' Harry. I don't mean ter say nothin', Mis' Jones, but I
mean ter keep my ears open while I'm there, an' if I git on
ter anything by accident I'll come right over in the mornin'
an' let ye know.

"Come over, Mis' Jones, an' tell Mamie ter come; she'll
always be welcome at my house, 'cause I know all erbout
these here disappinted love affairs."

It created some little excitement in Mapleton a few days
later, and perhaps a little surprise on the part of a certain
village gossip, when the Gazette announced the approach-
ing marriage of Miss Mamie Jones and Mr. Harry Martin,
at the home of the bride's mother — Miss Sara Anne Banks
to act as maid of honor, and only attendant to the bride.

M. P. H.

EDITORIAL

Jennie Hurt Editor-in-Chief

Associate Editors:
Eugenia W. Griffin Annie M. Powell

Frances P. Murrell Mart B. Pinkerton

Margaret Browning Business Manager

Eugenia M. Buffing ton Assistant Business Manager

In this our first issue we have admitted much which
reviews the past three years of our college life. We have
done this because we feel that it will be of
The Magazine, especial interest to the old students who are
no longer with us. If, however, in doing
this it should appear to some that we are overimbued with
the spirit of Sweet Briar, let them attribute this seeming con-
ceit to that interest which we feel that our older students
have in the affairs of our college life.

There are two articles in this number to which we wish
to call especial attention : "A Sketch of Mrs. Indiana Fletcher

Williams" and "The Shadow-Child." Most of
Articles us have never had access to an accurate account
in This of the founding of our college. We have known
Number, simply that the founder, Mrs. Williams, died in

the year 1900, leaving her estate for the establish-
ment of a college, which should stand as a memorial to her
daughter. Around these facts have gathered innumerable
stories of the founder and her family, all of which have
come to us only indirectly. Because we know that these
accounts are quite unsatisfactory we have taken this oppor-
tunity of getting at the true facts of the matter.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 25

We wish to thank the contributors of this article for
aiding us in the publication of what we believe to be an
accurate narrative of the life of our beloved founder.

For those who are not familiar with the traditions of
Sweet Briar "The Shadow-Child" will have but little signifi-
cance. On the other hand, everyone who has seen the circle
of boxwood, where the cosmos bloom in the fall, the yew
trees, the dark halls and winding stairs, the big harp now
silent, and that picture of the sad-faced little girl — in fact
everyone who has heard the story of Daisy Williams and her
quiet life at Sweet Briar will realize at once that she is in
reality the Shadow-Child not only of this story, but of Sweet
Briar as well. This child thus represented as a shadow-
child is to us in many ways a real child.

For very obvious reasons it will be seen that in this issue
we have omitted our exchange department. Because we

recognize the importance of this department,
Exchanges, however, we wish in the future to make this a

very distinct phase of our magazine. We wel-
come, therefore, the publications of other institutions, which
we shall be glad to acknowledge in our next issue.

A

We wish to remind our students that the board of editors
depends upon them for their support and cooperation. If

the students will remember that the staff is
Appeal for not chosen by them to produce a creditable
Cooperation, magazine, but to collaborate and publish the

very best thoughts of the students themselves,
we believe that they will assume an individual responsibility
which will result in the contribution of their very best efforts.

26 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

There is in the very nature of our surroundings a certain
breadth and freshness which, we believe, is reflected in our
college life. The student, though perhaps
The Sweet Briar unconsciously, is in a way influenced by
Spirit. our broad open fields, our rolling hills

and vast forests upon which she gazes
day after day, while the freshness of these fields unfurrowed
by the plow, and of these woods which the saw has not yet
entered, has also its effect upon the individual. These in-
fluences, we believe, tend to produce a certain sympathy,
tolerance, and originality among our students which char-
acterizes the Sweet Briar spirit. May this spirit be displayed
not only in our dealings with each other, but in our relations
with other students and other colleges.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 27

atretics

Our Athletic Association, as the first-year girls will
remember, dates from the fall of the year 1906. During
that first year very little of importance took place. It is
true that we had two tennis courts, two boats and a basket-
ball field, but we had only one class, the freshman class,
and therefore no interclass games. The lack of contests, of
course, made the activities of the association rather dull and
uninteresting. But the very fact of the present prosperity
of our organization grows out of that small beginning of the
first year.

If the old students could come back to see us now, they
would, indeed, be astonished to see what we are doing, for
we not only have class basket-ball teams, but regular annual
events, which keep the association alive with interest by
calling forth the class and college spirit of every student.

Last spring, on the 5th of April, we celebrated our first
Field Day. To increase enthusiasm in competition the

faculty presented the association with a hand-
Field Day. some silver cup. From that time on, every girl

who had entered the lists worked with renewed
energy in order to have her name engraved upon the trophy.
Everyone who saw the ardent zeal and interest, which were
displayed by the classes with their songs and yells on that
noteworthy day, predicts that Field Day will always hold an
important place among the other annual events at Sweet
Briar.

28 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

The following contests took place :

Basket-bal] game, College vs. Preps ; running high jump;
running broad jump; standing broad jump; hop, step and
jump; hurdles; hundred-yard dash.

This fall boating and tennis were made separate organi-
zations of the Athletic Association. The Boat Club, which

was reorganized with a renewed interest, can
Boat Club, now boast of a longer list of members than ever

before. The old students, no doubt, will be
both glad and surprised to hear that we have at last obtained
the object of our wish, for during the summer months, under
the kindly offered supervision of Mr. Dew and Mr. Manson,
a much appreciated boat house was built. This house is not
only large enough for quite a number of boats, but contains
four or five dressing rooms for those who enjoy swimming.
We are now looking forward to the spring days, when we
can enjoy the swimming even more than we did during the
few warm days of fall.

Last May we had our first tennis tournament, which did
much toward stimulating additional interest in the club.

It was, indeed, an inspiring sight on those
Tennis Club, beautiful spring days to see the faculty and

students out on the campus cheering the
players who participated eagerly in the series of both singles
and doubles. This fall the Tennis Club has more than a
hundred members, who, as soon as the basket-ball season is
over, will begin to look forward to the spring tournament.
It will be necessary for the association to provide some new
courts in order to give every member a chance to play.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 29

We have now three basket-ball teams — the Senior-Soph, the
Junior-Fresh and the Special or Sub. team. A schedule is

followed by which three match games are
Basket-Bali, played every week. Since the teams are so

evenly matched we may expect a hard fight
for the championship on Thanksgiving, for each team seems
to be filled with the determination to win.

We have noticed that golf has not been so popular with
the students this fall. Perhaps the lack of interest in this

sport is the result of our increasing interest in the
Golf, more exciting games of basket-ball and tennis. We

feel, however, that our wide expanse of campus offers
us an opportunity for enjoying golf as few other college
students can. We hope, therefore, that the students will,
as far as they are able, take advantage of this delightful and
at the same time healthful sport.

ISTow that we have most of our organizations in good
working order, we feel that we can turn our attention in
another direction. We want a hockey field. This
Hockey, wish, we feel sure, will be satisfied before the
year 1909-'10 draws to a close, because we believe
that every student in the association will give us her
individual support in this new undertaking.

30 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

£♦ W. €♦ & Jftotes

On September 22, 1909, the Y. W. C. A. gave a reception
to the students of Sweet Briar. The new arrivals were
piloted by the old girls to the Administration Building,
where Dr. Benedict and the faculty received. After a short
time spent in the hospitable parlors the faculty and students
adjourned to the Refectory, where they were received by
the Y. W. C. A. cabinet, and entertained by the association
members during the rest of the evening.

Barbara Lawerence, who was elected president of our
association last May, did not return this year. At the first
business meeting held in September Loulie Wilson, already
vice-president, was elected president in her place, and Frances
Matson vice-president for the year 1909-'10.
A

The first weekly meetings in October were taken up with
reports from the Sweet Briar delegates to the Asheville con-
ference, held in June. The reports were very interesting
and instructive. Through our delegates to Asheville con-
tact with so many other associations has tended to broaden
our work and point of view, and has forced upon us the
realization that we are not an isolated association, but part
of a great whole, comprising thousands of members and
extending into every quarter of the globe. If all the girls
who last year responded so promptly and generously to our
appeal for individual contributions could have heard the
two reports, there would be none to doubt that what we have
gained in enthusiasm and practical help has repaid to the
fullest extent the great effort we exerted to raise the neces-
sary funds for our representatives.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 31

Our various committees, whose work was somewhat de-
layed by the changes in officers, are now working in good
earnest.

The Membership Committee, which began its work in
the summer months by writing letters of welcome to the in-
coming students, has continued to create interest in the asso-
ciation, and has enlisted a large number of new members.

The Extension Committee, formed only last year, is
forging ahead and doing good work among the maids. Regu-
lar evening classes taught by the students have been organized
for the maids. We wish to appeal to every member of our
association for her interest and practical support in this
newest phase of our work.

On Sunday, November 7th, after the evening chapel
service, a number of the girls gathered together in the Blue
Parlor to enjoy the music and reading which the Social Com-
mittee had planned. Dr. Harley read one of Kipling's new
stories, after which Isabel Cornwall, accompanied by
Henrietta Washburn, rendered violin selections from "II
Trovatore." Hereafter these very informal gatherings will
be held before an open wood fire in the parlor of Randolph
Hall. The Social Committee cordially invites everyone,
whether a member of the association or not, to come and
enjoy the evening with them.

Since we have found that so much of our success depends
upon close contact with other associations, we have taken
advantage of our earliest opportunity to send delegates to the
Student Council to be held in Richmond, Va., November
11th to 14th. The delegates appointed by the cabinet to
represent Sweet Briar are Loulie Wilson, Isabel Cornwall
and Mary Tandy.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Social i2otes

The first social event of the year was the Y. W. C. A.
reception to the new girls on Thursday, September 22d.
This reception was held in the Administration Building by
the old students, assisted by the faculty. After the more
formal side — and we were glad to notice that much of the
usual formality and stiffness was absent on this occasion —
all adjourned to the Eefectory. There each new student was
cordially greeted by the Y. W. C. A. cabinet. A dance
brought this delightful evening to a very happy end.

The old students will remember what a great source of
pleasure the faculty concerts have always been to us. Those
of the old students who were not present this year on Satur-
day evening, September 25th, missed not only a delightful
concert by the faculty, but the interesting readings by Dr.
Barr, of Lynchburg.

A

There are some people who do not advocate college train-
ing for women. However, if these same unbelievers could
have been present on Saturday evening, October 2d, at the
baby party which the juniors gave the freshmen, they un-
doubtedly would have changed their minds, for when one
considers that these juniors, who, in their black dresses and
white nurses' caps, ministered so beautifully to the needs of
the freshmen babies were themselves freshmen babies only
three years ago, one must admit that only college training
could have produced this sudden metamorphosis !

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 33

On Saturday, October 16th, we had the pleasure of having
with us for the first time Ernest Hutcheson, the celebrated
pianist. The keen attention and loud applause which he
received from his audience certainly indicates a deep appre-
ciation of music among our students.

We were glad, indeed, to greet Dr. Denny, of Washington
and Lee University, who lectured to us Saturday evening,
October 23d, on the "Standard of Womanhood."

Perhaps the most amusing event of the season was "Alice
in Wonderland," presented by the Dramatic Club, "Paint
and Patches." There were three scenes, "The Duchess'
Kitchen," "The Mad Tea Party," and "The Croquet Game."

Alice, strange to relate, exhibited no fear whatever in
meeting the Pish, the Frog, the Dormouse, the Cat and the
March Hare, though all of these animals talked and chatted
in a most surprising manner.

At the end of the last scene Alice, with her various ac-
quaintances, sang a song of welcome to the new girls, after
which a short talk was made by Eugenia Griffin, president
of the Dramatic Club, in which she cordially invited the new
girls to join the club.

Much credit is due to Miss Plaisted not only for dramatiz-
ing this play, but also for rendering much assistance to the
members of the club. Judging from the splendid dramatic
ability displayed by the students who took part, we may
expect many more such evenings during the year.

The Sweet Briar girls are always greatly interested in
the football games of the season, particularly in those that

34 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

are played in Lynchburg. Quite a number of the students
went over to see the exciting game between Washington and
Lee and Virginia Polytechnic Institute on October 30th.
After the game many of the students from both colleges came
over to visit Sweet Briar.

Very probably it will be of interest to some to know that
the much-discussed topic of capital punishment has at last
been decided by the students of Sweet Briar. On November
1st this very serious subject, "Resolved, That capital punish-
ment should be abolished," was firmly maintained by Louise
Hooper and Annie Cumnock, the senior debaters, while the
negative side was no less strongly upheld by Mary Parker
and Jennie Hurt, the junior representatives. After much
deliberation the judges declared that the victory belonged to
the juniors.

Though we do not expect to become suffragettes in the
future, we do believe that this training which we get in our
Debating Club will prove very beneficial to us. We, there-
fore, urge the students to consider this among the most im-
portant of all the phases of our college life.

On this same eventful evening of November 1st, as the
students issued out of the assembly room, where the debate
had been raging for an hour, they found the whole place
pervaded by a spirit of mystery. No one knew the cause.
Gradually the new students had disappeared until there was
not one in sight. Could they have been spirited away in
some mysterious manner ? Before the old students had had
time to consider this question very much a crowd of ghosts
and apparitions burst upon them. Each student was seized
by a ghost, who quietly beckoned her to follow. Across the

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 35

arcades they passed, on to the Kefectory doors, which were
barred and guarded from within. At last, a dark figure
unbarred the door and admitted one ghost and her com-
panion. After a while another couple was allowed to enter,
and so on until the whole company had passed beyond the
dreadful doors. Within, in the dimness of another entrance,
dark figures crouched at the stairway could be discerned.
Seated upon the stairway, another obscure figure presented
each visitor with a sheet of paper, which, she mumbled,
would admit her into all the realms of the infernal region.
Without a word the accompanying ghost moved on, past
skeletons, bones, and pallid faces, down another flight of
steps, where — oh, horror of horrors! — they were surrounded
by hideous devils with horns and tails and arching eyebrows !
These fiends seized both ghost and visitor and shot them
down a steep plane into another dim region. As they
scrambled to their feet ghosts and devils running up danced
them around and around in a bewildering whirl.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the lights flashed on, and there
stood, instead of devils and ghosts, our own new students.
In order to refresh their guests, who had undergone such
terrifying ordeals, great baskets of popcorn and apples had
been prepared, while the doughnuts and cider added the
finishing touch to an ideal Hallowe'en party.

There is something about a bright log fire which appeals
to every one, especially to college students, who miss so
much the quiet winter evenings spent at home before a cheer-
ful fire. Mr. and Mrs. Eollins must have known this when
they invited the Y. W. C. A. cabinet a few weeks ago to
spend Saturday evening with them in their comfortable study,
in the east tower of the Administration Building.

36 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Pergonals:

Dr. J. M. McBryde, Jr., and family have moved to
Sewanee, where he is occupying the chair of English Lan-
guage and Literature in the University of the South.

Miss Gay Patteson, who is on a year's leave of absence, is
studying in Munich.

Miss Chapman, who is also on a leave of absence, is doing
graduate work at Yale.

Mr. Davis is teaching at Radcliffe and at the same time
doing graduate work at Harvard.

Adelaide Schockey and Lillian Lloyd are in New York
this winter. The former is studying music under Stagowski,
and the latter is studying art at the Chase School.

Former Sweet Briar students travelling abroad this winter
are Barbara Trigg, Bertie and Winnie Hensel, Margaret
Dressier, Emma Krause and Lanier Dunn.

Among the debutantes of Richmond this season are Cary
Valentine, Mary Saunders and Nell Potts.

Estelle Weslow is taking a music course at the Cincinnati
Conservatory.

Nell and Esther Keller are students at the University of
Indiana.

Alma McKay is studying art in New York.

Martha Bell, Cornie Fore and Douglas Gray were among
our visitors at the opening of college.

Claudine Hutter is in Leipsic, studying music under
Teichmliller.

Cards have just been received announcing the marriage,
on November 2d, of Miss Mary Steele Parrish, of Richmond,
to Dr. Thrift Ferguson, of Gaffney, S. C.

On June 16th Miss Evelyn C. Owens, of Winston-Salem,
N. C, was married to Dr. Robert O. Apple, of that place.
Sweet Briar girls who attended the marriage were Lucy
Sims, Virginia Shoop and Annie Laurie Haynes.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 37

Bijpme anO J&ea0on

Prof. C. (in English class, reading aloud) : "Doth not
Brutus bootless kneel ?"

Miss McC. : "Well, I don't see why Brutus had his shoes
off!"

P. L. : "They say that a girl always gets pretty when she
gets engaged."

M. B. : "Oh, I'll get engaged right away."

P. L. : "But you've got to be rather good-looking to get

FOR MANY ARE CALLED, BUT FEW ARE CHOSEN".

Barbara (entering a usually crowded Southern car, now
for once almost empty) : "Oh, how heavenly ! There are
so few on."

We once knew a damsel named Roxy,
Whose ways were decidedly foxy ;

When "stung" for exam,

Said, "I simply won't cram.
So henceforth I'll take mine by proxy."

English professor (reading in dramatic tones) :
" 'Where the mermaid is decking
Her green hair with shells.'

Now, you observe, young ladies, the delicate Shelley-like
touch."

38 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Miss Wingfield (on the second day after her arrival) :
"Where is the Refectory? Down in the Infirmary?"

Instructor (giving out a sentence to the "Rush French"
class) : " 'Where are the men,' Miss Murrell ?"

Another instructor (overhearing as she passes) : "There
are no men here, alas ! There are only Benedicts."

Our late professor (reading "Paradise Lost") : "Note the
exquisite beauty and imaginative quality of this description."

Miss B. : "Yes, Milton describes things so beautifully that
we almost forget we are in hell."

French instructor (to Miss Scott) : "Quel etait le metier

du pere de Racine ?"

Miss Scott: "II avait gouvernement du sel."

Miss Shand (looking up) : "Yes, Racine's father was a

salt-cellar."

Miss Booth (hurrying to the Library) : "Oh, I have to
report to-morrow on the Diet of Worms."

Miss Grammar : "Why, Alma, I thought you had finished
biology."

First student: "Surely, Nan, you don't believe all those
old Bible stories."

Second student : "Why, certainly, most emphatically, with-
out the shadow of a doubt, I believe the whale swallowed
Noah."

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 39

Miss Denham: "I was late for lunch and I felt so em-
barrassed as I came into the Rectory."

A PATCH-MATCH.

In summer's whirl
You meet a girl ;
She laughs, she sighs,

You are the prize.
You laugh, you play,
But wake one day
To find your heart,
By Cupid's dart,
Is cut in two.
What can you do ?
You sigh at fate,
At last relate
Your own sad case,
And plead for grace
From damsel fair,
For whom you care.
And since you've spoke,
Her own is broke ;
So now you patch
Hearts in a match.

L. M., '13.

Isn't it strange what diplomatic means our faculty find
for expressing their pent-up feelings!

The other day one poor turner of the pedagogic grindstone
was explaining the bodily cavities. In a burst of sheer in-
spiration she exclaimed, "Why, for example, the better part
of your heads is absolutely empty — except for air."

40 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

ENGLISH I.

First you have a track,
Then you have a train,

Then you have a paragraph,
If you but use your brain.

Your cars must be connected
With coupling-pins, you know,

For if you miss connections
Your train will never go.

Don't forget the engine —

It draws it all along.
"Without a topic-sentence

Everything goes wrong.

We thought we had a river
With "influences" flowing in,

But now it is a mountain range,
Which troubles us like sin.

So coupling-pins and mountains,
When everything is done,

Amounts to nothing more
Than just our English I.

L. M., K B., E. CL I. C.

Directory of ^>toeet TBii&t College

OFFICERS OF THE COLLEGE.

President i Dr. Mary K. Benedict

Treasurer and Business Manager William B. Dew

STUDENT GOVERNMENT ASSOCIATION.

President Annie M. Powell

Vice-President Jennie Hurt

Secretary Louise M. Hooper

Treasurer Annie W. Cumnock

YOUNG WOMEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION.

President Loulie W. Wilson

Vice-President > Frances N. Matson

Secretary Virginia D. Etheridge

Treasurer Corinne Dickinson

ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION.

President Alma W. Booth

Secretary Mary V. Parker

Treasurer Margaret Boley

HEADS OF SPORTS.

Tennis Frances P. Murrell

Golf Martha Tillman

Boating Kathleen Cowghill

Basket-tall Annie W. Cumnock

DRAMATIC CLUB.

President Eugenia W. Griffin

Vice-President Virginia Shoop

Treasurer Margaret Dalton

DEBATING CLUB.

President Annie W. Cumnock

Vice-President Margaret Browning

Secretary Frances N. Matson

CLASS PRESIDENTS.

Senior Class Louise M. Hooper

Junior Class Josephine W. Murray

Sophomore Class Frances N. Matson

Freshman Class Margaret Dalton

SWEET BRIAR ANNUAL.

Editor-in-Chief Annie M. Powell

Business Manager Frances P. Murrell

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Contents

PAGE

A Song of the Morning (Verse). Mary PinJcerton, '12 43

Julius Caesar — A Tragedy. Margaret Browning, '11 44

The Tale of the Skeleton. Louise M. Hooper, '10 . . 50

In the Light of the Embers. Eugenia W. Griffin, '10 56

The Land of Sleep (Verse). V., '11 59

A Postprandial Warning. Louise M. Hooper, '10. . 61

If We Had Our Wat. Rebecca White, '13 65

The Loss of a Jewel. Margaret Coleman 68

A Pastoral — Suggested by the Thought of Exam-
inations. M. A. Ribble} '13 70

Editorials 72

Athletics 75

Y. W. C. A. Notes 77

College Topics 79

Personals 86

TSMinz$$ ^anager'0 Announcement

The Sweet Briar Magazine, which is conducted by the student
body of Sweet Briar College, is at present published quarterly.

We call the attention of our readers, and especially of the students,
to the firms who advertise with us and who thus have contributed
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Published Quarterly by the Students of Sweet Briar College

Vol. 1

SWEET BRIAR, VA., FEBRUARY, 1910

No. 2

3 ^>ong of tfte Rowing

HE sun blares up above the sea,
Masterful on the deep ;
The loud sea shouts upon the sand,
To call us from our sleep.

To call us to the level beach,
The eager breakers beat ;

Beyond to where the sea-paths foam
That wait our coming; feet.

For we are loosened from the night,
The night and all old days,

To turn our faces to fresh skies,
Our feet into new ways.

Our hands to try the untouched day,
Wherein great prize will be ;

And wonder waits our shining sails
On the sun-dazzled sea.

Our eyes are blind with golden light,

And yet our quick hearts say:
It hovers on the wide sea's rim

The promise of our day.

Mary Pinkerton, '12.

44

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Julius Caesar— a CrageDp

— "Csesar, now be still;
I killed not thee with half so good a will."

HESE are the last words Shakespeare puts
into the mouth of Brutus about to die by
his own hand. If one adds to this frag-
ment that well-known refrain from the
first choral ode in iEschylus' "Aga-

jJTJl

memnon

at Aavov ai Aavov ei7T€, to 8ev vlkolto

(Cry woe, woe for Lanus, but let the good prevail !)

it seems that one has a text, or an hypothesis as it were, from
which to prove that Shakespeare's great drama of "Julius
Csesar" is essentially a tragedy. By tragedy, however, is im-
plied a much broader term than the original conception of
the T/oaya>Sos or "goat singer" ; a more definite word than
tragic used in the adjectival sense as anything mournful or
calamitous. Professor Baker, of Harvard, defines dramatic
tragedy as "a sequence of serious episodes leading to a
catastrophe." With this definition as a basis, this paper will
attempt to show by analysis with reference to direct cause
and effect that the chronicle play of "Julius Caesar" is a
dramatic tragedy.

From the standpoint of the drama, then, is there anything
that interrupts the "sequence of serious episodes" in "Julius
Csesar" ? The answer comes back straightway in an inter-

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 45

rogative form — can one reconcile the fact that the first three
acts of the drama deal with Caesar and the last two with
Brutus ? It would seem so, though to do this one must resolve
the compound drama into its elements, the dramatic actions.

It must be understood in the beginning that tragedy pre-
supposes two opposing forces of good and evil, of which one
must be overcome by the other. In "Julius Caesar" the op-
posing forces are represented by the party of conspirators
headed by Brutus and Cassius, while the avengers of Caesar,
led by Antony and Octavius, constitute the other side. The
different dramatic actions that lead finally to the overthrow
of the conspirators are the elements that make up the drama.

To illustrate this point more clearly one might give
Professor Moulton's scheme for the action in "Julius Caesar."
The rise and fall of the Republican conspirators he calls the
main action, which he subdivides into: (1) the sub-action to
the rise (character decline) — the victim Caesar; (2) sub-
action to fall (character rise) — avenger Antony. It must not
be thought, however, that these two forces can stand opposed
without some unity to weld them into a perfect drama. This
unity of action and interest is found in the person of Caesar,
who, as I said before, is murdered in the first scene of the
third act. But Caesar murdered is as dominant a power in
the tragedy as Caesar living. Though his body is struck
down by Brutus and the conspirators, his spirit rises up
strong in the persons of Antony and Octavius to avenge itself
upon his murderers.

Because the first three acts of "Julius Caesar" deal directly
with the conspiracy that makes Caesar its victim, and centers
all the interest in the accomplishment of this violent deed,
can it be said that the last two acts deal only with Brutus,
when the motive that leads Antony on is the desire to avenge

46 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Caesar's death? Though it is true that Brutus is the hero
of the drama, and more especially of the last two acts, the
ghost of Caesar is present to him at Philippi, as a subjective
force representing the avenging spirit. Because of this unify-
ing spirit, represented by Caesar, one feels justified in saying
that there is no real change in the interest of the drama after
the third act, since the real unity of the tragedy lies in Caesar.

That the events which make up the tragedy are "serious"
need not be questioned when one considers the motives that
prompted them. The impelling force with Brutus is the
thought of killing Caesar, which his conversation with Cassius
(Act I, Sc. 2) fixes upon his soul. Actuated by the loftiest
ideals of patriotism and civic honor to murder Caesar, the
enemy of Rome, inhibited from joining the conspiracy
straightway by his love for Caesar, the personal friend, the
decision in favor of the former is necessarily one of serious
consequence. Though the motives of the other conspirators
were not so high, the results of their actions were proportion-
ally grave. The effect of the first serious action, Brutus'
joining the conspiracy and almost unconsciously assuming its
leadership, was the violent death of Caesar, which caused civil
war. This in turn brought about the deaths of Brutus and
Cassius. Could there be a sequence of episodes any more
serious in their nature ?

Since "Julius Caesar" has a sequence of serious episodes,
does it follow that these episodes lead up to the catastrophe,
to the suicide of Brutus ? What logical reason was there for
such a termination of the tragedy ? Could not Brutus have
been captured by Antony, taken to Rome, eventually pardoned
for his great offense, and then fulfilled his day the "honorable
man" that Brutus was ? He could not have done this and
still have been Brutus, because of the inherent nature of the

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 47

man. He was a Roman — with all that word implies in its
best significance of patriotism, loyalty, honor, courage, in-
telligence. He was a man — in no way proof against making
some great fundamental error in reason or in action. Herein
lay his great mistake. When he conceived what he thought
to be a wrong to Rome in Caesar's rapidly increasing power,
he tried to right that wrong by another wrong — the murder
of Caesar — seeing only the desired, the ideal, result to be ob-
tained by his action. However patriotic, however impersonal,
however noble Brutus' motives may have been, the mistake
of his act remains in all its intrinsic value. Hence in dealing
with the remaining part of the drama from the viewpoint of
tragedy, this error must be assumed in spite of the motives
actuating it. For this same error, with its noble motives and
still nobler atonement, is the character of Brutus.

When the climax of the drama culminates in the murder of
Caesar, it leaves Brutus still unconscious of having committed
any wrong. It is on this account that he refuses to yield to
the mere shrewd advice of Cassius that they put Antony out
of the way also. "Julius Caesar" is then a tragedy of fate
in the dramatic sense of that term. Antony spared, stirs,
in his famous speech against the conspirators, that very
Roman mob for whom Brutus has committed the murder.
Just as his speech is the result of the wrong done by the con-
spirators, so is the civil war that follows the inevitable result
of his speech.

With the fourth act, the logic of events has caused Brutus
to question the complete justification of his act. The quarrel
scene not only shows how his part in the conspiracy has re-
acted upon Cassius to bring out the low, the mean, the
cowardly attributes in him, but it also shows the sensitive-
ness, the underlying sweetness in Brutus' nature. Further-

48 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

more, when the cause of the conspirators against the avengers
is staked entirely upon the outcome of the battle to take place
at Philippi, the entrance of the ghost seems to make Brutus
realize his great mistake — that the killing of Caesar was
really prompted by his evil spirit. However, it does not affect
his courage, for he is brave and dauntless in the battle. In
marked contrast with this is the cowardly attitude of Cassius
in the same battle. Since the "inevitable recoil" of his deed
upon him has been to bring out his craven fear, he dies by
his own cowardice — afraid to lead his legions in battle, skulk-
ing in the mountains, trusting a slave's word to the effect
that Brutus' legions have been overcome.

However, with Brutus it is different. Again the element
of fate seems to interpose, for if Cassius' legions had been
well led, might not the conspirators have been the conquerors
of the day ? With the defeat of his legion came the defeat of
his purposes. There remained for him only capture and the
disgrace of being taken prisoner back to Rome. The imme-
diate effect of this would be that Brutus the patriot, Brutus
the patrician, would be held up to the derision of public
opinion. This would mean the acknowledgment of the
defeat of all that Brutus at his noblest had stood for. This
would mean the acceptance of that for which he had struck
down Caesar. Was not death even at his own hand preferable
to this ? When he killed Caesar he had said — "as I slew my
best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for
myself, when it shall please my country to need my death."
As he felt that this need was present, there was but one thing
to do. Though he had striven for Rome's good, he had failed.
Since his country needed his death, he would give it. Brutus
was still the Brutus of the intensely egoistic sense of honor

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 49

both personal and civic. His death was his last legacy to
Home. He died with the words —

— "Csesar, now be still;
I killed not thee with half so good a will."

In the terms of the tragedy itself, it seems, then, that the
suicide of Brutus was justifiable. For always remembering
his character, given the fundamental error of Brutus, and the
sequence of events, how else could the tragedy have been
logically terminated than in the catastrophe, the suicide of
Brutus ?

Herein lies the great tragedy of "Julius Csesar" — that a
man of Brutus' calibre, for the carrying out of one mistaken
idea, should ultimately be forced to forfeit his own life. It
is not even as if he had died unconvinced of his mistake.
The tragedy lies in the realization of his own error, though
knowing at the same time, as he did, what motives had
prompted that error. What could be more tragic than the
atonement !

— "Csesar, now be still;
I killed not thee with half so good a will."

And in the echoes of memory again comes the thought con-
tained in the refrain —

"Cry woe, woe for Lanus, but let the good prevail !"

Margaret Browning, '11.

50

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Cfje Cale of t&e Skeleton

engineers
strnction.

FEW years ago there was a strike among
the laborers at work on a certain railroad,
which was at that time being run through
the western part of Pennsylvania. The
work was brought to a standstill, thereby
releasing from all duty the corps of young
who had been previously occupied in its con-
At night when the weather was fine, the men lay
on their blankets around the great fire before their tents.
Out in the open thus, with only the stars and the clear moon
overhead, the crisp air in their faces, in the bright firelight,
there was every incentive to light-heartedness and jollity.
Accordingly all sang and laughed and told stories, each man
taking his turn on this particular night with an unusual zest.
Finally it came Nelson's turn. He was a young
Southerner, who had only recently come from Virginia to
be put on the corps. The men had had little opportunity to
know him, but they were all attracted by his genial manners
and frank, almost boyish, face. Thus, since his story came
next, all the men looked interestedly in his direction, anxious
to hear the story he would tell.

"I'm not much of a story-teller," he began, "but the situa-
tion we are in just now, caused by this strike, reminds me of
a rather strange incident which occurred some years ago down
in old Virginia. I was nothing but a little chap then, but
I had been allowed to go with my father, who was in charge
of the work on the college that was being built down there in
Amherst County. He had experienced lots of trouble in get-
ting men for the work, for all the darkies for miles around

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 61

were scared to come on the place. They had many queer
ideas about it — one especially, that the place was haunted ;
accordingly they wouldn't come to do so much as dig a trench.
Finally, however, my father got the work started by bring-
ing some negroes from elsewhere. Then by degrees the ones
around were convinced that no bodily harm would come to
them, so gradually they too began to work."

This proved a good beginning, so after more wood had been
thrown upon the fire each fellow settled himself comfortably
in his blanket, prepared to enjoy what was to follow.

"All went well," continued Nelson, "until the day when
the work was to begin on the foundation of what became later
the Academic Building of the college.

"The day before, an old darky had come in from a nearby
village, who really looked half starved. He begged my father
so pitifully for a job that his name, which he gave as Jake
Williams, was placed on the list of those who were to begin
digging for the foundations the next day.

"The following morning, bright and early, I was dressed
and out. I remember. I ate my breakfast in the greatest
hurry. Soon I was standing on the hill with one of the engi-
neers, my hat pulled down over my eyes just as his was,
hands thrust deep in my pockets."

Just at this juncture, to emphasize his story, Nelson
stepped in front of the fire, assuming the attitude which had
characterized him on that morning.

"Among the workmen," continued Nelson, still standing,
"I noticed the old darky, whom I had seen talking to my
father on the day before, working among the other men in
the trench. My attention was especially attracted to him,
because it seemed to me he was putting forth a great effort
to work. In fact he looked weak and sick, and I determined

52 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

to ask my father to let him off. If I remember correctly I
think I was on my way to speak to my father. Anyhow, just
as I passed the old negro certainly a strange thing occurred.
Suddenly the pick which he was using rebounded forcefully
from the earth and struck him on the head. The negro fell
to the ground as if he had been shot."

Here Nelson again added to the dramatic feature of his
story by using that agility and nimbleness which enabled him
to throw himself quickly on the ground. Arising, amid a
silence broken only by the crackle of the fire, he continued :

"Perhaps I should have been frightened, but, nevertheless,
I ran to him, and, as he lay there with his face upturned, I
can never forget the abject, frozen terror, which was written
upon that ashen face. Beside him lay the skull of a man!
You may be sure that I was glad when the others arrived.
Naturally excitement was intense. Hurriedly, therefore, the
old negro was carried to one of the tents, where the men
worked on him in an effort to bring him around. Finally
he showed some signs of returning consciousness.

"Just at this moment my father entered the tent. Imme-
diately the negro recognized him. The presence of my father
seemed to bring a certain relief to the old darky, for he made
an effort to speak. To my delight he opened his eyes again,
and keeping them fixed on my father's face said, 'Lord,
marsa, Sam is done kilt me arter all. I done tried ter keep
outen his way, but he done cotched up wid me,' then he closed
his eyes again. The shock of the blow he had received, added
to the terror which the sight of that unexpectedly upturned
skull had inspired in the old darky, had been too much for
him, and even I realized that he had only a few minutes more,
at the most, for this world. With horror in my soul I listened,
breathless, while the dying negro recounted to my father, as

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 53

to a confessor, the dreadful story of his life. The very words
of that old negro, as he lay there with that ashen face, as only
a negro's face can become ashen, were burnt deep into my
memory. This was his story as well as I remember it :

" 'I regun I better tel you, marsa, 'fore I goes, dat I kilt
pore ole Sam. I'se er old nigger now, but onst when I wuz
young I uster lib right on dis here plantation.'

"He paused for a moment as if in doubt as to whether he
should really tell his story. However, he continued :

" 'We wuz all mighty happy in dem days. My mammy she
uster lib down dyah in de quarter string, and us little niggers,
me an my bruder Sam, uster play out dyah under dat big
'simmon tree an' wurk tergither out in dat cornfield. But
wen ole Marse 'Liger buyed dat purdy little yaller gal,
Sallie, an' brung her heah, Sam an' me neber got on from dat
time on. We wuz allers a-squabblin' an' a-fightin' ober dat
gal.'

"The darky hesitated again. My father leaned over, how-
ever, telling him to continue.

" 'One night I wuz out a way down in de barn lot, shuckin'
corn, when Sam he walked in all puffed up like, an' 'lowed
ter me dat he knowed I'd be glad for ter heah dat Marse
'Liger had done said he could marry Sallie. De Debil muster
got me den, marsa, kaise I sprung up like mad an' ran at him.
He tried for ter hole me off, but I wuz de strongest, an' in
'bout a minit I had him by de throat. I could ha' kilt him
easy, but we fell ober tergither an' kaise he wuz on de bottom
he fell on er ax what wuz lyin' dyah on der ground. My
weight on his'n drobe it clair inter de back ob his head. I
thought at fust he wasn't much hurt, but in a minit he
stiffened out an' died right dyah on de ground. Oh, marsa,

54 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

I hadn't meant for to kill him, G-awd knows I hadn't, but
dyah he wuz daid. I had kilt me own bruder.'

"The poor old negro had made such an effort trying to
impress just the way that they had fought, but it was too
much for him. He dropped back on the pallet and we
thought he had spoken his last. But after a pause, when my
father reminded him of what he had told last, in a feebler
and less connected way, he continued :

" 'Den it comes ober me all ob a sudden like dat somebody
would sho' fin' me out, den I would be hanged up. So I takes
him in my arms an' brung him out in de ole orchard fast as
I could. I could heah de Debil talkin' back er me dat night
when I cyard him out heah an' buried him far down as I
could dig under dat big apple tree, den kivered up de grave
wid leaves. An' I bin heahin' dat Debil talk eber sence;
ebery night I heahs him outside de door kinder moaning, an'
sayin' kinder soof to hisself like, "Whar's Sam? Whar's
Sam?"'

"The old darky seemed more feeble than ever after this
part of his confession had been made. It seemed that he
could say little more. My father put something to his lips,
assuring him at the same time that no one was calling for
him. At last he went on:

" 'De nex' mornin' arter I buried him, ole marsa he say
ter me, "Jake, whar dat nigger Sam ; he ain't done run away
ter dem tarn'd Yankees, is he ?" An I says, says I, "I
heahed him say yistiddy, marsa, dat he wuz gwin ober ter
Appomattox fust chanst he got, an' I spec' he's done gone —
I ain't seed him no whar leastways." My har kinder riz up
kaise I thought ole marsa looked at me mighty curous-like,
so I sorter started pull'n up weeds round de door.'

:' 'What happened then, Jake ?' questioned my father.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 55

" 'Ole marsa he gabe me Sallie de month arter dat — but
someway I ain't neber bin happy sence. Sallie she ain't
neber lobed me like she done Sam, an' I knowd it. When us
slaves wuz sot free we went off wid de rest on um, but Sallie
she kinder pined, and died, not so vera long arter dat.'

" 'Where did you go then V asked my father.

" 'Den I tried ter work ober dar in Amherst, but I neber
has bin able ter do much. I allers seemed sorter tuckered
out like an' no good for wurk. Ise er ole man an' I ain't got
nobody for ter look out for me, so I bin hungry many a time,
marsa. Anbody wouldn't hire me, kaise I couldn't wurk, so
when I heahed 'bout you, marsa, I comes ober heah an' you
gibes me er job, an' puts me ter dig right whar I hed buried
pore ole Sam. I didn't know, kaise de ole apple tree, whar
wuz dyah, wuz gone.'

"The old man began to shiver violently, and I could hardly
hear the last words he uttered, they were so tremblingly
pronounced :

" 'I spec' he's callin' me, marsa, an' dis pore — ole — nigger
— will had for ter go. Wuz dat de Debil dyah, marsa ?
Marsa — plese, sar, don' leabe me, don' leabe me ! I'm comin'
— Sam — I'm comin'. Good-bye — mar — ,sa!'"

The story-teller's voice had ceased, and while the fire sent
up great showers of sparks from the fresh logs which were
thrown upon it, Nelson retired to his blanket amid a round of
applause.

Louise M. Hooper, '10.

5fi

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Kn tije iLigfjt of tlje <&mbm

HE big hall clock was just chiming eleven
as I finished the last page of my story.
With a sigh of regret that the absorbing
romance was ended, I closed the book, put
out the lights, and crossed over to the big,
open fire. It was Christmas week, and I
was one of a party of girls and teachers who were spending
the holidays at college. We were staying, not in the dormi-
tories, but in the more homelike atmosphere of the old Sweet
Briar House.

To-night when I finished reading I remembered that every-
one else had retired early, and consequently I was the sole oc-
cupant of the whole lower floor. On the one hand the thought
made me feel a bit uncanny because of the many supernatural
stories connected with the house, but on the other, my story
had put me into such an imaginary, dreamy frame of mind
that I was loath to go to bed. A deep chair before the fire
extended a most welcome invitation, so sinking into its
luxurious depths I decided to watch the blazing logs.

The flames cast a weird, uncertain light over the old room.
Now and then a log slipped as its former support crumbled
to ashes. Then rays of light leaped forth, illuminating for an
instant different objects in the room. At one time a ray
transformed a bit of gold from the mirror's edge into the
burning eye of a dragon. At another, it changed the
mahagony claw of the table into the brown, bony hand of a
skeleton. For a long time I watched with absorption these
wonderful metamorphoses. At length two particularly vivid
streaks darted forth. One fell upon the portrait of the child
Daisy, now dead for so many years ; the other, upon the

THE 8WEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 57

long-silent harp standing in the recess of the window. Then
the two darts converged and at once disappeared.

This rather unusual action aroused my thought. I glanced
at the harp and then, turning to the left, directed my gaze
upon the features of the solemn-faced little girl looking down
from her massive gold frame. Strange I had never before
noticed what a very wistful expression she had. And stranger
still, that I had never noticed the object upon which her
yearning eyes were so intently fixed. I started to investigate
and a few minutes later discovered that it was the harp
which held her attention. I glanced again at the portrait
and the change I saw in the expression was marvelous.

The face was joyous and the eyes, now gazing in my
direction, seemed to be thanking me for some great favor
done. In fascination I stared at the picture. As I stared,
the object of my gaze began to descend gradually to the floor.
Reaching the carpet it stopped, and from its embrace stepped
forth the little maid of fourteen summers whom I had
hitherto regarded merely as a picture from some artist's
brush. What a mistaken fancy, for here she was a living,
breathing child ! A child, too, whose face was not solemn and
melancholy, but which was, on the contrary, radiant and
beaming with the light of some hidden joy.

For a second the little picture-girl stood still. Then with
noiseless tread she started across the room.

"Oh, you dear little girl," I impulsively called out, "won't
you come talk to me ?"

But heedless of my remark she moved on, and turned her
steps toward the harp. When she reached it she deftly drew
off the cover, and with a little sigh of satisfaction lovingly
laid her cheek against its side. The next moment she began
to pluck the strings gently.

What a picture the child made as she played ! Never,

58 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

never can I forget the scene. The look of rapture that over-
spread the childish face as she drew her fingers across the
strings was as saintly and perfect as the expression of a
Madonna. And how wonderful were the strains of music
that floated out at the touch!

At first a single little melody, full of pathos and pleading,
stole forth. Timidly it began to pour out its story, and,
finally dying away, was followed by other melodies, some-
times in slow and sometimes in hurried succession — each one
telling a certain part of the tragic romance that the music
as a whole was depicting. Each new strain vividly told its
part, and after the last one all former melodies returned and
blended into one harmonious crescendo.

I was held spellbound. Then the music carried me so com-
pletely in its wake that I began to quiver violently from
head to foot as if held under some tremendous nervous strain.
For support I reached for the arm of the chair. As I touched
the velvet I was so startled that I sprang to an upright sit-
ting posture. For an instant I gazed around in a bewildered
manner. Then, my senses returning, I looked with strained
eyes toward the harp. With difficulty I discerned its out-
lines and saw there was no figure by its side. I turned to
the left and perceived that the picture of Daisy hung in its
accustomed place on the wall. The fire, I found, was giving
out its dying rays. The room was exceedingly cold, and I
was shivering until my teeth chattered.

I arose from my chair, and as I did so the clock chimed
half past twelve. How quickly the time had flown! Could
it be possible that I had been dreaming before the embers !
No, I rather believe I had been an eye-witness to Daisy's
return home. For was it not Friday night, and had I not
been alone in the Gray Drawing Room at twelve o'clock ?

Eugenia W. Griffin, '10.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

"Cfje LanD of §>leep"

HERE is a land, we know not where,
Nor how our souls may entrance find
Into its strange enclosure,
For having passed the portals there
A while thej dwell to leave behind
All record of their journey.

A journey strange, a mystic land,
From which our souls no warrant hold,
For them a sure departure;
Yet daring — though with empty hand-
To undertake this journey bold,
They hasten thence rejoicing.

No gate is barred to those who seek
To fling aside all mortal cares,
And through its realms to wander;
The mighty lord, the beggar meek,
The child, and he with whitest hair,
Go hand and hand together.

They know not where, nor how, nor why,
But some unseen and quiet hand
Had stolen from their shoulders
The burden of toil, the smothered sigh,
The tears, the cares, despair so keen,
Which rends their hearts asunder.

65 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

But where and what this land so strange,
To which our souls for refuge fly,
From cares of all men mortal ?
Do spirits kind our eyes bedew,
And from us blind our burdens take,
To lead us through the portals ?

Or does there blow a gentle breeze,
With odors from rose petals sweet,
To make our minds forgetful
Of all the thoughts which daily tease,
And offer cumbrance to our feet,
Our weary paths pursuing ?

Whate'er may be this wondrous land;
Where'er its boundaries vast extend ;
Howe'er we gain admittance;
Before another shall we stand,
And round its paths and gardens wend
Our ways for time eternal.

Yet should our souls this second dread,
Than that in which our souls sojourn,
Is broken with the morning?
For though their mortal house be dead,
From care and toil their feet are led
Throughout all time eternal.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

61

3 PostpranOial Earning

T had certainly been a perfect day in the
country, there was no denying that, so
now that Ted was in bed and Grandma
had taken away the light, he continued to
lie there for ages and ages, thinking of all
the good things he had eaten that day, for
Grandma always had such good things to eat that Ted wished
he could make her a visit every Sunday. Now he was staring
with wide-open eyes into the dark corners, and at that curious
chair — or was it a chair? — which he could see in the half
light from the transom.

Somehow everything looked so strangely different to-night.
It seemed as if he would never go to sleep. In fact, he
decided, on the whole, as he knew he must be staying awake
all night, that he would rather keep his face turned to-
wards the room, and, not as he usually did, towards the wall.
It was much more comfy this way of course ; he could breathe
much better and he could see Grandma if she should happen
to come in again. Besides all these reasons he preferred to
keep his eyes on the things in the room. It was much safer,
he knew, in the country, in case of burglars !

He thought of everything he had done during the day ; of
how he had gone to church with the family in the good graces
of them all, walking proudly along, in his new suit, between
Grandma and Uncle Tom. Then, terrible to relate, how he
had been taken out of church, poor fellow, by Aunt Mary,

62 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

only because lie had crawled underneath the seat, while the
family was praying, and had given Elder Thompson's dog,
who sat behind them, one tiny little tweak of the tail. How
was he to know Elder Thompson's dog didn't have any more
religious principles than to howl out in church as he did?
He thought it entirely unnecessary that Uncle Tom should
have picked him up, as he did, virtually by one leg of his
knickerbockers, and set him upon the seat! Then he had
been quietly taken out by Aunt Mary. He didn't mind that
so much, to be sure, — and he didn't think Aunt Mary did
either. She had hurried him home, making him fairly run
to keep up with her — most undignified behavior, he thought,
for a maiden aunt.

When they reached home, with the parting advice to try
to behave himself and not disgrace the family further, she
departed into the house. He had wandered, rather discon-
solately, out into the back yard in search of something to do.
There he had found Uncle Sam, the old darky who worked
on the place, sitting under a tree whittling. He and Uncle
Sam were on very good terms, so, as he didn't seem to have
the least idle curiosity as to why he wasn't at church, he sat
down on the root of the tree by him. Then they had had
such a nice talk about all the things they were interested in.
There was the turkey, whose existence they were continually
reminded of by the delicious odors which were wafted to
them from the kitchen. This reminded Uncle Sam of a story
he said his granddad had told him when he was a little nigger
about the size of Ted himself. Ted remembered now that
he had heard Uncle Sam say, "Dyah is some turkeys in dis
wurl what folks sut'n'y orter look out fur, an' ef dee don't
dee sholy will be sorry fur it. Dyah is a sartin kind o' turkey
dat I know ob, dat has two white dots on his head bofe sides

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 63

ob dee comb. When dis hyah turkey is put on de table up in
de Gret-House an' folks eats too much ob him, dat turkey sho'
gwin hant em. Ise knowd it ter tek place myself, an' 'tis
de truf fur sho'." Uncle Sam had added that yesterday
when he had cut their own turkey's head off he had noticed
very particular and had seen two little dots on each side of
his head. He said he thought it was his duty to tell him
about it, so as he could "be very keerful not ter tek mor'n
one helpin' o' turkey."

Ted had tried not to, but that was the best turkey he had
ever eaten, and, besides that, Grandma had made him wait
till the very last to be helped — he knew she hadn't forgotten
about that dog in church — so he was very hungry, when, after
years of patient waiting, he finally did get something. Thus
it was that when Uncle Tom said, "What's the matter with
Ted, won't he have some turkey ?" he had said, "Yes, thank
you," before he had time to think. And, worse still, he had
had a third helping !

At this thought a little shiver crept up his back. He
glanced nervously towards the door, and there, coming
through the transom, he saw a huge purple turkey, with
great protruding eyes and teeth showing in a broad grin.
The turkey carried under one wing a big plum cake and a
half mince pie. By the other he was drawing after him a
whole train of meat and vegetable dishes, coupled together,
veritably like a train of cars. Ted felt his hair rise on end
as the whole cavalcade landed on the floor at one bound. The
turkey taking two or three strides towards the middle of the
room, looked first up, then down, and finally all around the
room, and, though Ted squeezed down under the covers
until he couldn't get any further, with nothing but one eye
left out, the turkey saw him he was almost sure. In one more

64 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

second he had no further doubt about it, for the thing began
to stalk towards him, gobbling at each step, grinning at him
and bobbing the dishes about so that the covers fell off, for
one moment allowing him to see the turnips, the macaroni,
the beets, the potatoes, the celery, the corn, the carrots and
the spinach he had eaten at dinner.

The turkey was advancing quickly towards him now; in a
second more he would reach him, he would most probably
peck out his eyes. With one bound he was at the foot of the
bed ; he seized one of Ted's toes, which in his struggles to get
as far under the cover as possible Ted had pushed out from
the sheets. Then without further ado the turkey hauled him-
self up by it on to the foot of the bed, pulling the dishes up
after him. As if fascinated, Ted held his eyes fastened on
the great green ones down there by his feet. Then began a
prolonged march from his feet to his chest — his body seemed
to be yards in length. The turkey walked very deliberately,
drawing all the dishes along till he reached his chest. There
he stopped and quietly piled them up in rows and tiers until
they were about a yard high. Then he himself walked
around them and stepped deliberately on Ted's head. He
was choking, he was smothering, he was dying — the very life
was being mashed out of him. He used his last remaining
breath in one short scream for help. Something was lifting
him up bodily, taking him out of bed; the turkey would
surely throw him out of the window before help came!

But no, somebody was patting him, helping to get his
breath; he opened his eyes. There was Grandma, standing
by his bed in the gray light of the early morning, telling him
it was quite time he were up and dressed if he wished to get
his train in time for school.

Louise M. Hooper, '10.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

65

3f Wit JDaO 2Dur Wis?

lAIST'T the old weather ever behave itself?"
I thought as I gazed gloomily out of the
window at a landscape even more gloomy
than my own temper. "One cannot think
of taking a sleigh ride on such a day. I
suppose I may as well study that old
mythology lesson." So with a sigh of resignation I pulled
"Greek and Roman Myths" from the book shelf, and settled
down in front of the fireplace. I was not in the mood for
study, and, besides, the fire made me drowsy, so I soon
stopped reading to gaze dreamily at the blazing logs. As I
sleepily watched the dancing flames, to my great surprise
they suddenly parted and a young man stepped briskly out
on the hearth. From the wings on his sandals and on his
staff, as well as from his likeness to the picture in the book
I had been studying, I at once recognized him as Mercury,
the messenger of the gods.

"Hail, mortal !" said Mercury, "I am sent by his sovereign
majesty Jupiter, king of the gods, to ask you to attend the
court where his highness hears the complaints and rights the
wrongs of his mortal subjects."

As he spoke he extended to me the tip of his winged staff.
Immediately, as I touched it, I felt myself rising rapidly
up the chimney, and then through the snowy atmosphere.
So swiftly did we travel that it was not long before we ar-
rived in front of a magnificent palace, blazing with many-

66 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

colored lights. We were immediately ushered into a large
and sumptuous hall, where sat Jupiter on his lofty throne.

The room was swarming with mortals as well as gods, but
a small boy was the first to make his way to Jove's throne.
He removed his hands from his pockets just long enough to
greet the god with a jaunty jerk of his rakish little cap.
This done he began his petition :

"Please, your highness, I wish you'd change the weather.
I think I'd like summer all the time, so's I wouldn't have to
go to school. But a fellow can't skate in summer, so I think
you might make heat freeze the ponds instead of cold. That
would be darned jolly!"

Before Jupiter had time to answer this rather unique
request the small boy was elbowed aside by a tall, dreamy-
looking young man :

"Ah, Jupiter, I presume. I am sure you know me. I am
the artist Sir Raphael Angelo. You know, my dear Jupiter,
how a lack of the beautiful hurts the soul of an artist. The
weather, dear Jupiter; glaring, blazing, sunny days —
devoid of beauty ! Give us always gray days ; days when the
sun hides herself as in a veil ; days when earth, air, and sky
blend softly their pale opaque tones of gray."

"What does the man mean ? Would he have us all as gray
as Quakers?" thundered Jupiter. The tall youth glanced
reproachfully at the god, as he ran his slender fingers through
his long, curling locks, but made way with a deep bow for
the radiant young girl who came running up.

"O Jupiter, you darling! How perfectly angelic of you
to let us poor mortals trouble you with our woes ! There
are such loads of things I want that I scarcely know what to
ask for first. But I really think that what I want most is
satisfactory weather. I really think that light, summery

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 67

clothes are the most becoming to me. Don't you think I look
well in white? Men are such good judges! But to return
to the weather. I do think I'd like the weather always
summer, because one can have so much more fun. But, no,
then I couldn't wear that perfectly darling set of furs Dad
gave me last Christmas! O Jupiter, you're such an angel,
don't you think you could give us a kind of mixture of
summer and winter? But never any rain, for rubber over-
shoes make one's feet look so large!"

As I leaned forward to hear Jupiter's answer to her plea,
I left myself rudely seized from behind. Supposing Mercury
to be the offender I turned to remonstrate with him at his
rudeness, when I found myself confronting the laughing,
mischievous face of my small brother.

"It's about time you woke up, you lazy thing!" said he.
"See, it's clearing up; mother says you can have your ride
to-night after all."

As I jumped joyfully from my chair, I inwardly vowed
that hereafter I would make allowances even if poor Jupiter
didn't get the weather just exactly to suit me.

K. B. White, '13.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

C&e *Lo$0 of a Jetoel

N the confusion of the gayeties of the ball
which celebrated her coronation the night
before, the fairy queen, Titania, lost her
most precious diamond. She had looked
on all her delicate gowns of moonbeams,
jet, search where she would, she could not
find her lost jewel. So she ordered that the blue-bells be
sounded, thus calling forth her many subjects, that she might
command every elf to search in all particles of dust of each
flower, upon whose petal she might have danced. Thus she
was seated on her royal throne of fern, over which hung a
filmy canopy, the work of an industrious spider, directing
the search for her lost treasure.

The whole of Fairy-dale was in a tumult over the loss of
such a costly jewel. Puck, the keen-eyed, was called that
he, too, might search for the lost. All the wise elves were
ordered out of their dens of learning ; even the smallest fairy
was to join in the search until somewhere some trace of the
jewel was found.

Through the whole day there was great confusion, but all
for naught. Gradually Night threw his heavy cloak over
this fairy-world. The tiny stars crept out and the moon
shone in all her splendor. Then this Fairy-dale was a dream
of loveliness, for the fire-flies, with their tiny torches, came
forth, that the search might continue; now the gauzy robes

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 69

of the fairy-creatures were made more delicately beautiful
by the glimmer of these torches.

Still there was no trace of the prized jewel. So finally
wearied with the search, Titania ordered that a supper of
nectar and fairy crystal drops be spread before each and every
one of her faithful subjects. But ah! as the little queen put
the golden chalice of a daffodil to her lips, that she might
drink of the nectar, she saw a sparkling in the center of the
cup and — lo ! — there was her lost diamond, a dewdrop.
Then all made merry and the laughter of these fairy-creatures
sounded as peals of silver bells ringing forth for great joy.

Margaret Coleman.

70 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

a pastoral

SUGGESTED BY THE THOUGHT OF EXAMINATIONS

NCE more the time draws near when shepherds all,
From hill and vale, assemble at the word
Of their respective masters ; with their flocks
In all conditions now to be reviewed,
And judgment passed by overseers stern,
Lest some lone sheep has suffered sad neglect.
Come then, muse, inspire this shepherd swain
With words impressive, that will move the hearts
Of supervisors e'en so stem as these,
To pity this expectant, shuddering throng.

For we poor shepherds are but mortals weak,
And oft when faint and thirsty lay our sheep,
Instead of leading them to that pure flood,
Tested by time, through time refreshed, renewed ;
Checked for a while by boulders in its path,
But fed by Norman and Italian streams,
To rise afresh above them and dash on
Absorbing from its roughened course the strength
And purity wherewith to cast aside
The refuse clogging up its onward flow.
Instead of this, we led them to some pool,
Sparkling with evening freshness near at hand,
In truth, however, stagnant and impure
Breeding disease and trouble in the fold.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 71

Or else persuaded by companions gay
To come and join them in a savoury feast,
We yield, and all unheeded flits the time
When we should guide our hungry sheep along,
With Hannibal through Alpine passes steep
To Italy's warm plains where they may bask
On sunny slopes and feed in meadows green.

Or tempted, yet again we linger long,
Absorbed in sports with comrades on the green,
Forgetful of the tedious pilgrimage
To father Tiber, in the far-off East,
Who tho' in vain he tried to satisfy
Our baser natures with the sight of gold,
And yet, by mingling compounds queer and strange
In a mysterious way, he can produce
That savoury substance which delights the taste
Of sheep in every land and every clime.

And so, O masters, do we now confess
Our weaknesses of days now past and gone,
And plead with you to look into the past,
That ye remember in your shepherd days
Temptations such as these came e'en to you.
And were ye not at such times anxious too,
When retrospection brought before your minds
Some idle hours, or frolics dearly bought?
Recalling this through all the coming days,
Review the sad results of heedless ways !

M. A. RlBBLE, '13.

EDITORIAL

Jennie Hurt Editor-in-Chief

Associate Editors:
Eugenia W. Gbiffin Annie M. Powell

Feances P. Mukrell Mary B. Pinkebton

Eugenia M. Buffington Business Manager

We shall publish from time to time in our magazine stories
concerning Sweet Briar. The two stories in this number
"In the Light of the Embers" and "The Tale of
Articles the Skeleton/' both of which are connected with
in this Sweet Briar, need some explanation. There is a
Number, tradition that on Friday night, as the midnight
hour approaches, the ghost of Daisy Williams re-
turns to the gray parlor of the old Sweet Briar house in quest
of the tall gilt harp which stands shrouded in the dim alcove
of the parlor. This mute object, the companion of her child-
hood days, she seeks weekly that she may pass her spirit
hands across the broken strings. This is, then, the tradition
upon which the writer of "In the Light of the Embers" bases
her story.

"The Tale of the Skeleton" is derived from the following
facts : When the excavations were being made in the old
orchard, for the foundation of the Academic Building, a
skeleton was unearthed by one of the workmen. Just how
and why this skeleton came to be in this spot will always
remain a mystery.

Another workman while digging struck something which
made his pick-axe rebound with sufficient force to prostrate
him on the ground. This occurrence the old negro super-

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 73

stitiously attributed to the presence of some "sperit" or
"hant."

Though these are two separate and distinct facts, the
writer has so combined them in "The Tale of the Skeleton"
that the one serves to explain and verify the other.

That there is a universal tendency among college students
to neglect the newspapers and periodicals during their four

years of college life is, indeed, quite apparent to
Magazine anyone who talks to the average college student.
Reading. There are, to be sure, exceptions to this rule, as to

all others, for some students, along with their
regular academic work and athletic activities, find time to
keep up with the topics of the day. But as a rule — and we
do not believe this statement too sweeping — college students,
and those who live in dormitories especially, do not find the
interest which they should find in the newspapers and maga-
zines. We have noticed this tendency among students from
various colleges. College girls as a rule know scarcely any-
thing of outside affairs, except the little knowledge which
they gain from a hasty glance at the social columns. College
men, too, though we must admit that they do not err in this
respect as do their sisters, are prone to give far too much
of their time to the sporting columns of these periodicals.
Ask either these men or these girls to discuss the great crisis
in England at the present time, and they will have, if any
idea at all, only a very superficial one as to the meaning of
such a term. Ask them about Zelaya, and very probably they
remember only to have heard the name. Ask them any
question concerning modern events, and few of them will be

74 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

able to give you an idea of anything which has appeared
without the sporting and social columns.

In our own college we hear numerous students declare
after the holidays that they felt at a loss whenever any topic
of the day was mentioned at their homes. We see no excuse
for such neglect. We feel ashamed that our students have to
make such a confession. We, therefore, urge them not to
neglect this important side of their education, but to devote
some time, if for only a few minutes each day, to the news-
papers and magazines, which lie undisturbed upon our
library tables. Moreover, we wish to call their attention to
our "Current Events Club," where the members of this club
may hear weekly lectures on world-wide subjects, and where
they also feel at liberty to discuss freely any question which
may have appeared during the week. We are glad to see that
a number of the students have already taken advantage of this
opportunity.

With a club of this kind in our midst, and our library racks
filled with magazines and newspapers, the students ought to
exert themselves in this direction. If this were done not only
would college life become vastly more interesting, but the
topic of conversation at the table, in the walks, and, in fact,
in the social gatherings, would cease to consist in the worth-
less "small talk" which we hear from day to day.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 75

Alettes

When the first issue of the magazine was on its way to
the press all three basket-ball teams were anxiously awaiting

the outcome of the final games of the season.
Basket-Bail. Each team had worked hard during the fall,

and each firmly expected to win the champion-
ship. But, sad to relate, all three could not be the winners !
It was the good fortune of the Senior-Soph team to get the
first place. The first game for the championship, on Novem-
ber 13th, was bravely fought by the Junior-Fresh and Special
teams, the last of which were victorious. Their victory was
not for long, however, for a second game was played between
the Specials and Senior-Sophs on Monday, November 15th,
in which the latter team won. Again the game was a fierce
one, but the Senior-Soph team left the field champions of the
season.

Defeat was indeed bitter for both Special and Junior-
Fresh teams, yet both could not but feel a certain pleasure in
seeing the outgoing Seniors carry with them the honors of
the championship.

The great athletic event of the year, Field Day, will take
place on Monday, April 11th. Elsie Zaegel, Sue Hardie,

Elizabeth Craven, and Mertie Watson have been
Field Day. chosen to arrange new entries, practice days, etc.

The old students who remember the last Field
Day exercises are already beginning to look forward to April

76 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

11th, when there will be not only a hockey game and other
new entries, but many more students to participate in the
various athletic feats this year.

All those who enjoy rowing, swimming, and even the
strollers, find pleasure in our lake. This winter the skaters,

too, have had their share of the pleasure, for the
Skating, ice has been thick enough for skating several times

during the year. Only a few of the students
have been so unfortunate as to break through. These few
have received no injury, thanks to Mr. Rollins and Dr.
Humphreys and their long oars with which they so skillfully
fished out the unfortunates.

It is with delight that we announce that work will be begun
on the hockey field within a few days. The field, we hope,

will be completed before the middle of March in
Hockey, order that the students may have time to arrange

for a game on Field Day. We feel sure that hockey
will become as popular with the students as basket-ball and
tennis have always been. We wish to remind the students,
however, that the success of this sport depends not entirely
upon their interest in the game, but upon the readiness with
which they respond to the demand for money which has been
so recently made.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 77

g* ©3. €♦ ^ Botes

Our Association members attempt each Christmas to bring
joy into the hearts of some who are less fortunate than they.

A year ago the Association conceived the plan of giving a
Christmas tree to the children of the Indian mission, which
is about three miles from our college. On the morning of
the last Monday before the holidays began a number of the
students, with Mr. Rollins, Dr. Harley, and Miss Burner,
who was then visiting us, drove over to take the presents and
tree decorations. Mr. Rollins, of course, went to minister to
the spiritual needs of the Indians, Dr. Harley to look after
our own physical welfare. All morning was spent in dress-
ing the tree for the arrival of the congregation of the little
mission chapel. Words cannot picture the looks of delight
and even of rapture which lighted up the faces of these
Indian children as they gazed upon their first sparkling
Christmas tree.

The Association planned again this year to have the tree
at the mission. Several of the students were going over, as
they had done before, but the weather interfered this time.
So the presents were sent over to be distributed by Miss
Packard, who has charge of the mission school.

The Association members, however, would not be satisfied
without a Christmas tree, so a beautiful one was prepared
for the neighborhood children. From miles around they
came to see St. Nicholas, and to receive from him their
presents, not without words of warning and encouragement
for the coming year.

78 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Because we feel that our regular Sunday services are more
formal than they should be the cabinet has decided to conduct
the Y. W. C. A. services in the parlor of Randolph Hall in-
stead of the chapel, as we have done heretofore. The first
of these meetings, which was- held just after the Christmas
vacation, proved to be quite successful.

We are glad to see that the regular Wednesday evening
prayer meetings, which are now held on every corridor, are
well attended. These small informal gatherings bring with
them something which the larger meetings are unable to
supply.

It was unfortunate for us that Sweet Briar was not repre-
sented this year at the Student Volunteer Convention in
Rochester, 35T. Y. Though delegates were appointed, none
of them were able to attend. However, we feel that we have
not missed this wonderful convention altogether, for Deaconess
Goodwin visited us shortly after her trip to Rochester, bring-
ing with her much of the spirit which animated all who were
present at this great assemblage of students.

The ofiicers of the Association for the year 19 10-' 11 have
been recently elected. Loulie Wilson will again be presi-
dent, Eugenia Buffington, vice-president, Henrietta Wash-
burn, secretary, and Elsie Zaegel, treasurer.

This plan of electing our officers at the beginning of the
second term seems to us a most excellent one, for the new
officers by becoming familiar with their work during the
spring months are able to plan during the summer, so that
at the beginning of the first term the work is continued with-
out interruption by a change of officers.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 79

College Copies

Occasionally we seem to be admitted into the very presence
of the "King's Treasure" and of the "Queen's Garden."
Professor Crawford's lecture on "Literature as a Passport,"
on Monday evening, November 8th, served itself as an "open
sesame" for all who heard him.

We are proud, indeed, to boast of a Sweet Briar composer's
evening. On Monday evening, November 8th, the faculty
surprised us with a program of ten beautiful numbers, all of
which had been composed by members of the faculty.

The year 1909-'10 is in many respects an important one
in the history of Sweet Briar. In this year we issue our
first student publication; in this year also our first annual
will appear; in June of this same year our first graduates
will say farewell to their alma mater. On November 19th,
also of this same year, another event took place which we
consider one of the most significant in the annals of our
college. This event was the celebration of Founders' Day.
At seven o'clock Founders' services were conducted by Mr.
Rollins, after which the audience was allowed to depart and
prepare for the rest of the exercises. At eight o'clock the
Junior class ushered the students and visitors into the as-
sembly room. When everyone had been seated the first
academic procession began. The Seniors and the faculty

80 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

clad in their caps and gowns entered, followed by the speakers
of the evening. As this impressive procession advanced to the
front of the room the whole audience arose, applauding
loudly. When the line had passed up the aisle and everyone
was again seated, our president ascended the rostrum to make
an introductory talk upon Founders' Day, and its meaning
to us at Sweet Briar.

In this talk she cited, as a most interesting coincidence in
the history of Sweet Briar, the fact that Elijah Fletcher,
who bought the estate and amassed the money for the estab-
lishment of our college, had been graduated from the Uni-
versity of Vermont, in 1810 — exactly one hundred years
before Sweet Briar will send forth her first graduates. Thus,
our first Founders' Day was in a sense the centenary of the
graduation of one of our founders.

Dr. Benedict then presented Mr. Manson, who needed no
introduction at Sweet Briar. His address on the founders
of Sweet Briar gave us not only a clear outline of the life
of our benefactors, but a most sympathetic look into their
daily life and thoughts.

Dr. Craighead, of Tulane University, next talked about
the meaning and purpose of an institution like ours. He
found Sweet Briar quite an ideal spot, he declared, except
for one thing — a dormitory for the young men whom he found
in his audience. Perhaps he did not realize, however, that
so many young men are not admitted at Sweet Briar except
upon "special" occasions. The special occasion this time
was Founders' Day celebration and the dance which followed.

This dance, which we consider one of the most successful
we have ever had, reflects much credit upon the girls who
planned it.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 81

As the guests entered the Refectory they were received by
Dr. Benedict, together with the Executive Board of the
Student Government Association. The grand march was led
by Eugenia Griffin, manager, and Mr. Albertson, of Wash-
ington and Lee University. Ice was served between dances,
and refreshments about the middle of the evening. Everyone
was inded sorry to hear Mr. Dew's voice announce that the
" 'bus will come in a few minutes !"

Thanksgiving was spent in various ways by the students.
Many of them, of course, went to Lynchburg to witness the
game between Davidson and V. M. I., others to attend the
matinee. Some of the students, too, spent the holiday with
friends outside of college, while a great many remained here
to enjoy a quiet day either on the lake, in riding and driving,
or in playing tennis. Wherever they stayed, all seemed to
have had a "perfectly lovely" time, and plenty of Thanks-
giving turkey.

The Sophomore class on the evening before Thansgiving
invited the three classes, with their respective honorary
members, to go with them on a hay-ride. Of course everyone
accepted — Sweet Briar people always do — and the wagons
were jostling slowly along before eight o'clock.

Very much shaken up, but still in good spirits, the occu-
pants of the wagons alighted in the middle of the woods,
kindled a huge fire, and circled about it to toast marshmallows
and to tell ghost stories. Some of these stories, too, would
have done credit to Poe or Maupassant.

82 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

What could Sweet Briar do without the Walkers! On
the evening of Thanksgiving all the students and faculty-
were invited over to a bonfire at St. Angelo. There they
saw a bonfire indeed! After enjoying games around the fire,
the crowd of hungry girls — and hungry faculty, too —
gathered in the halls and parlors of the beautiful house, where
the Walkers displayed their usual hospitality in serving
delicious cakes and hot chocolate.

Everyone who has heard Maude Powell will realize what
a treat the students of Sweet Briar enjoyed on Saturday
evening, December 4th, when she, with her magic violin,
visited us for the first time.

The second of the series of debates took place between the
Freshmen and Sophomores on Monday, December 6th. The
subject, "Resolved, That college in the country has more
advantages than college in town," was defended by the Sopho-
mores, Mary Pinkerton and Elsie Zaegel, while the Fresh-
men, Mary Tyler and Elizabeth Franke, manfully opposed.
Fortunate for us at Sweet Briar, it was decided that although
the college in town may offer many advantages, these advan-
tages are far outweighed by those which one may derive from
the college in the country.

Why is it that the people who manage bazaars always know
how to get our money? When Miss Guion announced that
she would be glad for us to give anything to the bazaar which
we ourselves should like to buy, most of us felt that our purses
were too thin either to give or to buy.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 83

But when the time arrived on December 11th, for us to
look around at the dainty Christmas gifts, the candies, cakes,
dives in the fish-pond, etc., our purses became still more
emaciated, while the cash boxes of the bazaar managers in-
creased steadily in weight.

Apropos of the bazaar, it will be of interest to the old
students to know that the money from this bazaar, and that
which comes from, the sales at the Tea House, is laid aside
for a Northern scholarship. Different members of the faculty
conduct the Tea House, where during the fall and spring
months ices, salads and ice cream are served. During the cold
days of winter one may buy hot chocolate and cakes.

We wish to print in this number the program of the
Christmas Festal service which was held here on Sunday
evening, December 12th. The hall decorated in garlands
of evergreen, the stage banked with boughs of cedar, holly,
and pine, and the big silvery star which shone above the
heads of the choir, lent a most festive aspect to this beautiful
service.

ORDER OF SERVICE

Hymn ~No. 50 — Adeste Fideles

Congregation

Pastoral Symphony — From the Messiah Handel

Orchestra
Sentences
Prayers

Anthem — There Were Shepherds Myles B. Foster

Choir and Orchestra
Psalm 150

84 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Carols — Shepherds, Shake Off Your Drowsy

Sleep Old French

We Three Kings From Orient Are. . . .Old English

Ring Out, Ye Bells /. H. Wallis

Choir and String Orchestra
First Lesson — Isaiah 9 :l-8
Hymn No. 51 — Hark, the Herald Angels Sing

Congregation
Second Lesson — St. Luke 2 :1-14

Carol — Holy Night Barriby

Choir and String Orchestra
Creed
Prayers
Soprano Solo and Chorus — "Lovely Appear"

(From The Redemption) Gounod

Choir and Orchestra
Hymn No. 53— "Shout the Glad Tidings"
Congregation

Chaplain — Reverend Wallace E. Rollins.

Choir — Sopranos: Misses Bancroft, Bradfield, Buffington,
Clyde, Esther Cornwall, Isabel Cornwall, Crawford, Cocke,
Dalton, Denham, Mary Ervin, Grammer, Koser, McClain,
MacDonald, MacWhorter, Pierce, Reddish, Rigney, Schwab,
Virginia Shoop, Stephenson, Margaret Thomas, Winnie
Walker. Altos: Misses Howland, Lily Walker, Violet
Walker, Wilson, Morenus, Ruby Walker, Washburn, Wright.

Orchestra — Violins : Miss Alexander, Mrs. George Dornin,
Miss Cornwall, Miss Hancock, Dr. Humphreys. Flute: Dr.
W. E. Walker. Piccolo: Miss Winnie Walker. Clarinet:
Dr. George E. Walker. Piano: Miss Virginia Shoop.
Violas : Misses Gardner, Lily Walker. 'Cellos : Mrs. Rollins,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 85

Miss Taylor, Mr. Kobert Tait. Oboe: Miss Ruby Walker.
Drum and cymbals : Mr. Edward Walker. Orchestral organ :
Mrs. Walker.

The Billihens and Merry Jesters on Monday evening,
December 13th, again joined together to give a delightful
entertainment. Both "The Mouse Trap," presented by the
Billikens, and "The Land of Heart's Desire" by the Merry
Jesters, showed great care and dramatic ability. On the
whole "The Mouse Trap," we think, was the better of the
two; not that this one displayed greater ability or more
careful work on the part of the actors and directors, but that
the other play was a far more difficult one to present.

The Christmas concert on Thursday evening, December
16th, was one of the delights of the season. We enjoyed this
concert so much ourselves that we only wish that there might
have been more people outside of Sweet Briar to enjoy it
with us.

Just as the sun peeped above the top of the nearby ridge
on the morning of December 17th, the corridors were aroused
by Christmas carols, which seemed to issue from some
mysterious source. When the source was discovered, how-
ever, it was found that six of the students had arisen early
in the morning in order to go from building to building sing-
ing the "glad tidings." This is a beautiful custom, we think,
and one which it would be well for us to establish at Sweet
Briar.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Personals

Martha Bell and Bessie Jackson were among our visitors
during the Thanksgiving recess.

Martha Tillman had as her guests, for a few days in
December, her sisters, Misses Mary and Katherine Tillman,
of Nashville, Tenn.

One of the autumn marriages, which will be of interest to
506-'07 students, is that of Miss Olive Spigner to Mr. Paul
de Launay, both of Columbia, S. C.

Mayo Thach, Margaret Cobb, Margaret Thomas, Margaret
Dalton, Florence Coffin, Rose Owen McDavid, Ruth Dowd,
Clyde Cranford, Mary Johnson, Nell Davidson, Bessie
Brown, Margaret Koser, Henrietta Washburn and Lucelia
McClaine, chaperoned by Miss McLaws, Miss Shaw and
Miss Carroll, attended the Thanksgiving hop at V. M. I.

Mary Lou Cobb, Anna Norris, Virginia Ely and Emma
Bradfield were present at the Thanksgiving dance at
Annapolis, Md.

Elizabeth Craven attended the Christmas dances at
Annapolis.

Miss Louise Payne of Lynchburg, Miss Lucy Grwathney of
Richmond, and Miss Kitty Rogers of Lexington, were the
guests of Lucy Sims for a few days after the Christmas
holidays.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 87

On Thursday, the 6th of January, at Spokane, Wash.,
Helen Lillian Fargo Schulte was married to Dr. Albert
Tenney. Dr. and Mrs. Tenney will make their home at
Seattle, Wash.

Deaconess Goodwin has been with us recently. During
her visit she delivered several brief talks on the student
volunteer movement in which she gave an interesting descrip-
tion of the Rochester Convention, which she had just
attended.

Mrs. Lewis, of New York, who is pleasantly remembered
as Miss Gabriel, is visiting Dr. Harley at the Apartment
House.

In Washington, on the 13th of January, Cary Valentine,
of Richmond was married to Mr. Louis Cutchins, also of
Richmond.

Cards have been received for the marriage of Miss
Evelyn Williams, a former Sweet Briar student, to Mr.
Vincent Miles, to take place on the 8th of February, at Mul-
berry Hill, Lexington, Va.

Director? of §>toeet IBrtar College

OFFICERS OF THE COLLEGE.

President i De. Mary K. Benedict

Treasurer and Business Manager William B. Dew

STUDENT GOVERNMENT ASSOCIATION.

President Annie M. Powell

Vice-President Jennie Hurt

Secretary. Louise M. Hoopeb

Treasurer Annie W. Cumnock

YOUNG WOMEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION.

President Loulie W. Wilson

Vice-President Eugenia M. Buffington

Secretary Henrietta Washburn

Treasurer Elsie Zaegal

ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION.

President Mary V. Parker

Vice-President Alma W. Booth

Secretary Mary Tyler

Treasurer Helen Lamfrom

HEADS OF SPORTS.

Tennis Frances P. Murrell

Golf Martha Tillman

Boating Kathleen Cowghill

Basket-ball Annie W. Cumnock

DRAMATIC CLUB.

President Eugenia W. Griffin

Vice-President Virginia Shoop

Treasurer Margaret Dalton

DEBATING CLUB.

President Annie W. Cumnock

Vice-President Margaret Browning

Secretary Frances N. Matson

CLASS PRESIDENTS.

Senior Class Louise M. Hooper

Junior Class Josephine W. Murray

Sophomore Class Frances N. Matson

Freshman Class Margaret Dalton

SWEET BRIAR ANNUAL.

Editor-in-Chief Annie M. Powell

Business Manager Frances P. Murrell

Pine Knot" — President PvOosevelt's Cottage, Albemarle County. Va.

Sample of Four-Color Process

from the Presses of
J. P. BELL COMPANY, Inc.

T , . ,„7, 7, ,, ,.r

J. P\ Bell Company

Ia'nchburg, Virginia

PRODUCERS OK" HIGH-GRADE PRINTING

COLLEGE ANNUALS AND CATALOGUES

A SPECIALTY

[See other side)

Contents

PAGE

The Truants (Poem). Mary Pinkerton, '12 89

The Development of the Early Drama. Emma W.

Morris, '1 1 90

Two Letters of Long Ago. Elizabeth Franke, '13 98

To Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Poem). M 102

The Fate of An Easter Bonnet. Margaret A.

Ribble, '13 103

Cupid's Assistant. Marie Abrams 108

The Guardian Spirit (Poem). Henrietta Washburn... Ill

The Story of the Teddy Bear. Almeris Bailey 112

The Lost Key. Marie Abrams 116

Jack's First Keal Experience. Isabel Ketring 120

Five- Year-Old Ambition (Poem). Rebecca White, '13 127

Editorials 128

Exchanges 131

Athletics 133

Y. W. C. A. Notes 134

College Topics 135

Personals 142

15u0ine0$ manager's; announcement

The Sweet Briar Magazine, which is conducted by the student
body of Sweet Briar College, is at present published quarterly.

We call the attention of our readers, and especially of the students,
to the firms who advertise with us and who thus have contributed
materially to the financial support of the magazine. We hope that in
return the students will, as far as possible, give them their patronage.

Subscription, $1.50 per year. Our advertising rates are, per year:

One page. $20.00

Half page 15.00

Quarter page 8.00

Eighth page 5.00

Payments for advertisements are due after the first issue of the
magazine. All subscriptions must be paid in advance.

Address all business communications to

Eugenia M. Buffington, Bus. Mgr.,
Sweet Briar College.

J. P. BELL COMPANY, INC., PRINTERS, LYNCHBURG, VA.

Sty? £»ttm?t Irtar ilaga^me

Published Quarterly by the Students of Sweet Briar College

Vol. I

SWEET BRIAR. VA.. APRIL, 1910

No. 3

Cfje Ctuant0

H, long enough our hearts we let
To that cramped page that life had set
Our hands, for though the body met
Its tasks and held its straying look,
The spirit gnawed behind the book.

There came an hour in spring when all
The warm night voices rose to call
To us across the city wall ;
A wind went down the streets and we
Followed it through the gates — were free.

And we shall never turn to pen
Our lives in those dull streets again;
We've lost the prize they kept, but then
We won ourselves, and all the earth
Is ours to learn their prize's worth.

Under the new leafed bough to lie,
Upon the hilltop near the sky;
Far off their traffic thunders by,
Far off their scorn and pity pass.
How warm the sun upon the grass !

Mary Pinkeeton, 12.

90 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

€$z Development of tfje OBarlp Drama

E must trace the origin of modern drama,
not from the drama of classic literature,
but from its beginnings in the Middle Ages.
Classic drama died a natural death, for
it was utterly impossible for any true
drama to survive in those degraded times
of the late Roman Empire, when public taste demanded
entertainments that would satisfy the overmastering desire
for excitement and bloodshed, for cruelty and vice. Thus it
was not the original drama that the church condemned, but
the later and corrupt forms, and the gladiatorial shows
which were substituted in its place. The drama, as we have
it to-day, was certainly influenced by the classic dramas, but
this influence did not begin to make itself felt until a com-
paratively late stage in the development of the drama.

The new drama grew out of the church's desire to bring
home to an unlettered people the reality of the chief events
connected with the Christian religion. As the church serv-
ice was entirely in Latin, it seemed to the priest both advis-
able and expedient to attempt to present its truths and
doctrines to the rude, unlearned masses of barbarian converts
in symbolic forms and by means of concrete illustrations.
The splendid liturgy of the church, therefore, gave rise to
the first step in the development of the new religious drama.
In the Christmas and Easter services, the gospel narrative
of the Nativity and the Passion was not only pictured, but
also enacted around the altar by the priests. All was, at first,
spectacular. It was, however, but a short and natural step
to the introduction of dialogue in the Easter service, closely
following the words of the scriptural narrative.

The next step in the development originated, perhaps, in

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 91

the Christinas service. This was originally only the repre-
sentation of the manger scene near the altar, but gradually
the other incidents connected with the birth of Christ were
introduced; the Annunciation, the Adoration of the Magi,
the Flight into Egypt, and so forth. For this, it seems,
separate platforms or stations were erected in the nave of
the church: there, in one corner, was placed Herod's throne;
there, at some distance, was the hill where shepherds
watched their flocks ; and, near the altar, the manger of
Bethlehem. In these stations it is thought we have the
beginning of the act in the modern play. Gradually the
gap between the Christmas and Easter plays was filled in
by the representation of other prominent facts in the life of
Christ. Since some knowledge of the incidents of the Old
Testament was necessary to a complete understanding of
Christ's life, the priests introduced other plays depicting
Old Testament history. Gradually, perhaps one by one,
these incidents were added until the Mystery plays embraced
a whole cycle from the creation and fall to the Messianic
prophecies, the birth, life, and death of Christ.

Along with these scriptural plays there grew up another
kind of religious play, the Miracle play. These it seems
had as their basis some incident from the life of a saint,
whereas the Mysteries followed scriptural narrative,
although no such distinction between them existed to mediae-
val minds. These Miracle or Saint plays were also enacted
by priests, within the body of the church, almost as though
some pictured saint had stepped from his richly stained
window down into the dim cathedral aisle and there per-
formed anew his miracles. One of the most popular saints
then, as now, was St. Nicholas, and the numerous legends
connected with his name might easily furnish material for
many a crude play.

92 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

As the Passion Play, as it was originally played at Easter,
gradually grew to include a whole cycle of Mystery plays,
presented at different stations, we can easily see how con-
fused and crowded the church must have become, and thus
how the plays were forced out of the church. To fill the
urgent need for more space, the plays were moved out into
the church yard. But this arrangement proved unsatis-
factory; the graves were desecrated, and the space crowded
by a noisy, jostling concourse of people, so that some open
space just outside of the town was chosen as the scene of the
plays.

As the Mysteries increased in elaborateness, the priests
were unable to devote the required time to them and hence
laymen were substituted as actors. About this time, too,
the language changed from Latin to the vernacular. As
early as the twelfth century, Hilarius wrote in mingled
Latin and Old French, so we may suppose that this change
of language was a gradual growth. In order to properly
present these plays, it was necessary that they be under the
control of some well-established organization. At first, the
church had been the only organization of durability and
power, but, by this stage in the development of the drama,
the trade organizations had acquired a firm basis, and the
presentation of the Mysteries was turned over to the guilds.

In France, when the plays were first given outside of the
church, all the different stations were arranged upon one
long platform. Later, however, these stations became sepa-
rate; each station was erected upon a four-wheel cart, and
had two stories, the lower one of which served as a dressing-
room for the actors, while the upper one served as stage.
It was in this latter form that the stations, or pageants as
they came to be called, were known in England.

Sacred drama had no independent origin on English soil,.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 93

but was introduced into that country after the Norman
Conquest, and it is probable that the Miracle plays were
brought over before the Mysteries. However this may be,
it is certain that in England these pageants became united
in the Mystery Cycles, which reached a high stage of de-
velopment and were given elaborate presentation at certain
fixed times of the year. Pope Urban, in 1264, had insti-
tuted the feast of Corpus Christi. This feast was not kept,
however, until several years later. As Corpus Christi day
was the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, thus happening
to fall at a season when the days are longest of the whole
year, the guilds chose that as the day on which to present
their plays. Great crowds from the surrounding country
flocked to town to witness the performance. At a very
early hour — five or six o'clock in the morning — the first
pageant was presented before the Abbey gates; when this
was finished it passed on to the next street, and a second took
its place. Thus it continued, so that each street had a
pageant playing before it, until all had been performed.

The guilds bore all expense of the plays, each member
being taxed a certain amount to defray costs, so that no
charge was made to the spectators. Great care was exercised
in the choice of actors. Realism was aimed at, although
the scenery and stage machinery were of the crudest kind,
and there was absolutely no change of scenes. In the cos-
tumes, rich and splendid effects were sought rather than
appropriateness, and absolutely no attempt was made to
reproduce the scenery of the country where the action was
supposed to take place, no effort to give local color as we
would say to-day.

The four great cycles of the Mystery plays are the York,
Towneley, Chester, and Coventry. These are not the work
of a single author, but each cycle is an organic growth. The

94 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

York cycle, the first to be printed, was probably composed
between 1340 and 1350, and numbers forty-eight plays.
The Towneley or Wakefield cycle contains thirty-two plays.
The Chester manuscript is a late one, but there is reason to
believe it based on a much earlier text, and it is thought to
have been written by Randall Higden, a monk of St. Wer-
burg's Abbey at Chester (1290-1364). The Coventry cycle
contains forty-two plays, the greater part of which were
written about 1468. Let us imagine ourselves present at
the presentation of one of these cycles.

Early one June morning, in the fourteenth century, the
quaint medieval old town of Chester is pervaded with un-
wonted commotion and an air of suppressed excitement.
Even before the first streaks of dawn appear in the east,
people are up and stirring in the town ; country people
from the farms for miles around come thronging in as soon
as the gates are opened. And all this hurrying crowd
eagerly pushes on to the market place, to the open square
before the Town Hall, each one anxious to get a good place
from which to view the coming pageant. The windows of
the narrow, gabled houses are filled with curious faces peer-
ing out ; the arches of every quaintly carved doorway are
packed with spectators — rough, toil-worn peasants ; pom-
pous burghers with their wives and daughters in bright-
colored garments ; sturdy yeomen in the picturesque forest
green, but without their accustomed long cross-bows, since
to-day all weapons must be left at home or surrendered to
the master of ceremonies'. Here and there, a young squire,
a page, or, perchance, some knight or noble lady in rich
attire, or a solitary priest with solemn countenance.
Perhaps some urchins more enterprising than the others
have climbed into the branches of nearby trees, and await
the performance from that vantage-ground.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 95

Thus, in the soft June air, this varied assemblage impa-
tiently awaits the coming of the first pageant. There is a
noisy hum of excitement, which soon gives place to an expect-
ant hush, as the heavy cart is wheeled into the square. The
lower portion is curtained off with bright green hangings,
embroidered with religious emblems. On the upper stage
sits the actor who is to represent the Deity, resplendent in
shining white, with gilt peruke and flowing gilt beard — a
costume worn also by the saints and angels. With such crude
accessories as the stage machinery of the time furnished,
he attempts to illustrate the creation of the world, using
hawthorn branches, lanterns and wooden images of bird and
beast, and accompanying his acts by explanation in rude, halt-
ing, abrupt lines. Adaan and Eve are next endowed with the
breath of life, and the Archangel sent to escort them to the
Garden of Eden.

Thereupon the cherubim break forth in an anthem of
praise, the whole movement of which is lighter and freer
than that of most of the verse. The Creator then rises
from his throne and walks toward the rear of the stage.
Lucifer immediately usurps this position and calls upon the
other angels to know if, by his beauty and power, he is not
well-fitted to occupy the throne, but they are divided in their
opinion upon this point. He tries to test his powers still
further by attempting to fly, but falls off the stage into the
black, gaping jaws of a pit, intended to represent hell-mouth,
whither he is followed by his adherents.

This pageant was given by the plasterers' guild — a curious
fact about the early plays, for was it mere coincidence or
only another curious example of medieval symbolism that
the plasterers were chosen for the representation of the
creation, the shipwrights for the building of the ark, the

96 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

goldsmiths for the adoration of the Magi, the vintners for
the first miracle at Cana, and the bakers for the last supper ?

This pageant is then wheeled on to the next street, and a
second takes its place, this time greeted with peals of laughter
from the crowd, as Cain and his saucy plow-boy squabble
like two homely Yorkshire rustics. And so on throughout
the various phases of Old Testament history the pageants
proceed, now holding the spectators spell-bound with interest,
now throwing them into uproarious mirth at some comic
invention of the dramatist which was far removed from
scriptural narrative. Such a lively scene as this is given
when Noah's wife stubbornly refuses to enter the ark, in
spite of all commands and entreaties.

The first of the New Testament pageants shows Csesar
Augustus, decked out in purple and gold, bullying and dom-
ineering all about him in a strange mixture of Latin, Anglo-
Saxon, and Norman French, such as is fitting for so mighty
a personage. The story of the shepherd's watch by night
is told simply and graphically, the scene representing, not
Palestine, but such a one as might be familiar to any Eng-
lish peasant, and the characters real English shepherds.
Here the comic element is introduced, also, in the story
of Mak and the stolen sheep and in the rough shepherd's
ludicrous attempt to imitate the angel's song. Yet there is
complete absence of any irreverence on the part of both dram-
atist and audience; the author only aims at realism and
dramatic interest in telling the story. Indeed, from this
point onward, the comic element grows steadily less, there
is no further burlesque, and the pageants gradually increase
in intensity, seriousness and tragic interest.

The next pageant represents the Adoration of the Magi,
one of the most beautiful of the early English plays in its
spirit of reverence, its quaint language, and curious union

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 97

of the practical and material with the spiritual. Then
Herod appears, swaggering and blustering, proudly strutting
about the stage in a trailing robe of blue satin, wearing a
gilded helmet, and devoutly worshipping "Mahonne." And
so on throughout the long summer day, the pageants appear,
tell their story and teach their lesson, and pass on, until
finally the last one comes, The Day of Judgment, where the
souls of the evil — dressed in red and yellow to indicate the
fate which awaits them — are turned over to the demons to be
tormented eternally. While the onlookers are awe-inspired
by this terrifying spectacle, they also gasp with astonishment
to find among those destined to such punishment no less a
person than a Pope of Rome !

Thus as the waning light puts an end to the spectacles,
and the weary people, silent and subdued, turn their steps
homeward, perhaps there is not one among the crowd who has
not learned some lesson and who has not been forcibly im-
pressed by this crude but earnest depiction of the Gospel
Narrative.

In these early attempts at dramatization, one may find
all the elements which have since been developed into the
powerful and splendid English drama, elements of both
comedy and tragedy. True, in these unskilled afforts to
tell a story, the comic and tragic elements are hopelessly
mixed, and the attempt at characterization is crude, always
subordinate to the plot or story. But the next step in the
development of the drama, the Moralities, made a decided
advance in this direction, indeed, here character study — not
of real people but of personifications of abstract virtues and
vices — occupies the chief place. Thus the raw material was
ready at hand; it remained for modern drama to supply
true, natural, human characters for the lifeless personifica-
tions of the Moralities, and to unite the two, story and
character delineation, into one brilliant whole.

E. W. M., '11.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Ctoo Letters of Long ago

London, April 19th.

Y Dear Prae: — Thou knowest not what ex-
citements I have had since I left old Plym-
outh Town so long ago — it seems. My
worthy uncle, Mr. Samuel Pepys, has been
most wondrous kind and has e'en promised
to take me himself to court early next
week to see our Queen©, at which I am most thrilled. He
has bidden my aunt coach me in the manners and fashions
of the court so that now I am learning the minuet glide and
curtsey and languish — and find it most fascinating exercise —
During Lent we had but few gaieties so they say, but it is all
so new and strange to me that I scarce know where to begin,
Prue, nor how to convey to you the wondrous occurrences.
To-day being Easter Sunday, we went to the King's chapel
and did hear Dr. Betis preach a most wonderful sermon con-
cerning the dangers of Hell's fire, which did much uplift
me. We heard also Captain Cooke's new musique-vialls, and
other instruments played a symphony between every verse
of the anthem and most beautiful it was.

Scarce a week ago, my aunt took me to see the rogue
Turner hanged. We had a good view from the balcony of
a house of my aunt's friend opposite the cart. The specta-
tors were not to be numbered and all thought it a most pleas-
ing sight to see such a hardened wretch hanged at last, but
methought it was most pitiful — he being so young and deli-
cate looking as scarce to be able to commit such crimes.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 99

Since then have I also been to see a new play at Covent
Garden. Oh, Prue, plays are the most amazing and marvel-
ous things in the world ! 'Twas so enchanting that at times
I found myself gasping through very forgetfulness to breathe.
The play was entitled "A Midsummer Wight's Dream/' and
although I was so enthralled with it, uncle — and he must
surely know, being esteemed so highly by the lord chancellor
and Lord Callendar — declared it the most insipid ridicu-
lous play he e'er had seen in all his life.

Lent being now over, we will go to many routs and weekly
dancing assemblies next week. And, Prue, if I tell you a
wondrous secret, thou wilt swear thou wilt not think me vain
nor e'er breathe it to a soul %

'Twas only ten days ago, Lady Sandwich's two daughters,
both monstrous beautiful, came to call, bringing with them
three or four young gallants. One of these, Sir William
Hambleton, was most attentive to me, Prue, and has been
often to see me since. Indeed he hath asked me to step the
minuet, and quadrille as well, with him at the first assembly.
My aunt and I are much concerned at present with getting
me a new frock — all my gowns being monstrous nugging and
frumpish. E'en now she's calling me to her, so I must
close.

Write to me soon and tell me all the gossip at home. I
wish you were here so I could chatter more freely with you
and so you could enjoy it all with me. My respects and best
wishes to your honored father and mother.

Anne Beadfield.

London, April 29th.

My Dear Prue: — At last I know what court life is
like. But two days ago my uncle carried me to White

100 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Hall to see our Queene in her presence-chamber. Her
maids of honor were playing at cards with my young Duke of
Monmouth, a lad of fifteen, already having the manners of a
young coxcomb of twenty or more. I was much impressed
with the sweetness and gentleness of Her Majesty, poor
lady, cruelly neglected, 'tis said, by the King, though
as she speaks English but imperfectly, I had little
converse with her. There I met my Lady Anne
Scot, the little mistress of the Duke of Monmouth, who was
most gracious and friendly to me, and e'en invited me to go
in her party to the ball that night given by Lady Castlemaine,
the most beautiful lady in London and a great favorite with
the King. And oh ! Prue, I wore my new dress that I wrote
you Aunt was making for me. I fear me I cannot describe
it justly to you but I will do my endeavor.

" 'Tis a black velvet with pink satin sleeves and stomacher,
and a pink satin petticoat, over which is a fall of white
crepe ; the sides open in front, spotted all over with gray
embroidery, and the edge of the coat and skirt trimmed with
gray fur." 'Tis the most elegant and dashy robing that
I've ever had and e'en Sir William Hambleton admired it
extravagantly. I will not tell you all he said, for fear you
think me a vain puss. My Lady Anne was most beautifully
gowned in silver lace and being a most graceful dancer, was
monstrous popular, but still was most thoughtful of my pleas-
ure and introduced many brave young gallants to me. Oh,
'twas a most heavenly time, Prue, for 'twas my first real
ball.

After the ball, being in a way in the King's party, we went
to the play, a new farce, written by one of his young favorites.
Although at first I thought the vizard or mask worn by most
of the ladies present — not in our party — a monstrous pity,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 101

since it hides the whole face, I e'en wished before long that
I had one, for the farce vastly shocked me — "and indeed,
'twas most indelicate, and made me bhish scarlet and all the
more that my Lord Monmouth whispered that he enjoyed the
broad parts through my cheeks." Uncle says, and I really
wish it, I need not stay again to the farce, for which I am
most thankful.

I don't wonder that you complain that I am becoming
truly a lady of fashion, for in addition to the routs, assem-
blies, plays, etc., I have e'en learned to bowl with Sir Wil-
liam's help, and next week my worthy uncle has promised
to take me to Bath and Oxford to see the gayeties there
before returning home. But, Prue, an you promise not to
tell, particularly Philip — for 'twill make him most con-
ceited— I'll tell you that I'll e'en be glad to come back to
dear old Plymouth town and exchange my stately lords and
ladies, not e'en excepting Sir William, for my good old
friends at home.

Your ever loving friend,

Anne.

Elizabeth Franke, '13.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Co aifteO, LorO Cennpson

{Tennyson's "F rater ave atque vale")

L

m

EAD ns out from noisy strivings, to thy mystic

country go,
Where thy song to us is wafted, as the zephyrs

gently blow,
Tenderest of all the poets that this world may

ever know,
Sweetest bard of all the ages, sing thy measures

soft and low,
Chant thy tales of that great king whose realm

was lit with Truth's bright glow ;
Sing of lands alight with gladness, of a country

void of woe;
Sing of mystic Avalon, the fairyland of long ago ;
Sing to us of love and battle, knights and

maidens pure as snow,
Of the nymphs so softly laughing, of the monk

with head bent low.
Sing to us of friendship lasting, Heaven's own

jewel here below ;
Sing in measures lightly lilting, chant in rhythm

solemn, slow,
Only sing to us, thou poet, sweetest songster

earth can know !

M.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 103

Cbe jFate of an (Easter OSonnet

jT was a wonderful creation — Dorothy had
planned every detail of it herself, from the
hopeless looking wire frame, which had been
miraculously changed into a drooping white
cloud of chiffon and lace, to the palest of
fine rosebuds just under the brim, which
brought out the faint color in her cheeks ; and then on top
there were banks and banks of blue forget-me-nots which
just matched the deep blue eyes underneath them. Truly
it was most becoming to this slip of seventeen-year-old girl-
hood, and would not Rob think so too \ Surely ! and Rob's
judgment was of no little weight these days since it had
become known to the whole college that he was an ardent
admirer of Dorothy, and then, to be sure, he was to take
her to church to-morrow, when he would be rewarded for
his patience in trying to listen with polite interest and at-
tention to the trials that had to be endured with stupid
milliners.

It had been tried on for the last time Saturday morning
and, proving entirely satisfactory, was to be sent up imme-
diately. Dorothy found it waiting for her when she arrived
at home, and in great exciteinent took it out of the careful
tissue-paper packings to disclose its charms to the expec-
tant family. Then when it had been duly admired, she
bore it off in triumph to be carefully put away in the ward-
robe until the following day.

On arriving at her own door, however, a sight met her eyes
which threw a damper on her exultant spirits. Her small
sister was curled up in the middle of the bed, sobbing as

104 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

if her heart would break, and in Dorothy's favorite arm-
chair, reposing in state upon the pillows, was — oh, horrors !
— a small rigid white object, which proved to be a deceased
kitten. Without stopping to comfort the pitiful little ob-
ject on the bed, she tore the cover from a magazine which lay
near her on the table, and picking up the innocent corpse
by its tail, gave it one vigorous fling out of the back window.

Just at this juncture the small sister had been impelled
by curiosity to peep through the tear-bedimmed fingers to
see what was going on. Seeing the object of her grief thus
heartlessly cast from a second story window down to the
ash pile in the back yard was just the last straw, and with a
volley of abuse at her unsympathetic sister she buried her
head once more in the pillow.

Dorothy, still horrified at the thought of a dead kitten in
her arm-chair, was not in the least mood to pity, and for-
getting for the time the treasure in the hat box on the floor,
she shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the room, slam-
ming the door behind her. In disgust she descended the
stairs to find mother and tell her what a little goose May
was and that she ought to be spanked.

May in the meantime, again left to herself, continued the
violent weeping, thinking all the while of the cruelty of the
world in general and her own family in particular. Father
nad even offered to get her another kitten, the very thought
of which made her loyal little heart shudder; and showed
that he had no idea at all of what true love is. And now
hard-hearted Dorothy had been inhumanly disrespectful to
the dear remains. It was more than she could bear. She
would just pine away and die ; then they would all know that
it was a broken heart that killed her, and would be so sorry
about the kitten, and think how really noble and true kittens

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 105

must be. They would put on her best white dress for a
shroud and have a funeral with flowers and things — just
here a bright thought interrupted this gloomy reverie — why
not have a funeral for Snow ? She could at least give her a
decent burial. With a bounce she was off the bed and
starting toward the door. A large white box was in her
way on the floor, which needed only a vigorous kick to disclose
the much-talked-about Easter bonnet. A moment May hesi-
tated— ah, surely here was revenge! In an instant she had
taken the tongs from the fire-place, and holding the odious
object at arm's length, carried it over to the window, where
needless to say, it followed the kitten.

Feeling relieved already, she ran down the back steps and
out into the yard. The hat had landed not far from Snrw's
prostrate form and as she sat down between the two it oc-
curred to her that her revenge could be even more complete.
A pair of scissors was all that was necessary; and there was
no reason to fear the consequences, for she would not be
discovered before next morning, and of conrso she wouldn't
live through the night.

An hour later there was a neat little grave in one corner
of the garden. Around it was a fence of white wire on
which pink rosebuds were climbing in profuse abundance.
The grave itself was a mass of blue forge t-me nots. .Near
by on the ground lay the exhausted mourner fast asleep.

Dorothy, a little while later, feeling penitent after her
hastiness, again made her way up to her room to seek resti-
tution. No little sister occupied the bed now ; only a hollow
in the middle and a damp rumpled looking pillow showed
traces of her. In vain she searched till supper time, and
then, sitting down to the meal with a rather guilty conscience,
she awaited her father's arrival, that he might advise about

106 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

the continuance of the search. His footsteps were soon
heard, but, contrary to all custom, on the back porch. Then
he appeared in the doorway, a pathetic figure sleeping peace-
fully in his arms, a decidedly misty look in his eyes —
and Dorothy forgot every vanity she was ever guilty of during
the description which her father gave.

Easter Sunday dawned bright and clear in spite of pessi-
mistic prophecies of bad weather, but Dorothy saw all kinds
of triumphs in millinery pass her door without a pang.

In her small white bed in mother's room May slumbered
on undisturbed till a violent ring of the door-bell waked her
with a start. Rubbing her stinging eyes with both hands,
she tried to remember where she was and what had happened.
Slowly but surely the appalling thought came over hett*
that she should be dead. But here she was most decidedly
alive and with a peculiarly heavy weight on her conscience.
There was no apparent way open for suicide, and, strange to
say, the desire to lie in state in a "best white dress" amid
flowers and weeping friends had entirely vanished. Seem-
ingly the only means of obtaining forgiveness for yesterday's
"sweet revenge" was confession, honest and penitent. She
jumped out of bed without giving herself time to think of
probable scoldings and rushed up to Dorothy, whom she
met just coming out of her room. A confused confession
was poured out, together with an abundant flow of tears,
but this time Dorothy's pity knew no bounds, and she would
not leave May until every tear was wiped away.

Rob, waiting below in the parlor, concluded that the Eas-
ter bonnet must be a very difficult article to put on. Need-
less to say, he was rather surprised when Dorothy walked in
arrayed in the same costume she had been wearing to church
since Christmas, but as he had heard sounds of sobbing

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 107

from upstairs while he waited, he concluded very naturally
that something was wrong. He received no explanation
then, however, for Dorothy had not gained entire control
over herself since the scene upstairs, and the horror of her
life was hysterics.

Strange to say, Rob requested to be allowed to call again
that afternoon. He had not been there long when Dorothy
announced that she had something to show him, and led the
way to the secluded corner of the garden so recently turned
into a cemetery. There she told him the whole story. The
funny side was uppermost now and they laughed — right over
Snow's grave — till it was necessary to sit down on the old
bench under the oak tree near by. Regardless of the chilli-
ness of early spring they continued to sit by Snow's grave
till nearly dark. For Rob also had a story to tell, not a
new one by any means, but intensely interesting nevertheless ;
and Dorothy's cheeks did not need the presence of pale pink
roses to bring out their color, for truly the roses would have
looked ghastly pale in comparison. And, moreover, forget-
me-nots were entirely unnecessary, for Rob wore a pale
blue necktie over which a pair of blue eyes looked perfectly
heavenly.

Father again coming in the back gate, saw and understood,
but refrained from carrying the present mourners (?) in
in his arms.

M. A. Ribble, '13.

108 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

CupiD'0 distant

LEANED back in my seat on the big Cali-
fornia Limited with a weary sigh and

listened to the rumble of the wheels and
wondered if the end of the journey would
ever be reached. But by and by, I began
in spite of my weariness to be interested
in my fellow passengers.

Across the aisle from me sat a patient mother, endeavoring
to extract a cinder from the eye of her small son, who, having
screwed up his eye as tightly as possible, resisted all her
efforts and howled vigorously, while his even smaller sister,
delighted at her mother's distraction from watching her,
leaned far out of the window to wave a chubby hand at the
jack-rabbits and prairie dogs.

Across the aisle further back an irascible old gentleman,
much disturbed by the noise of the children, glared angrily
over the top of his newspaper at the group, and muttered some-
thing about "children ought not to be allowed on trains."
The old gentleman evidently had never gotten a cinder in
his eye when he was a little boy.

A little further back in the car sat an old lady, surrounded
by much luggage — a large and ancient carpet-bag, a cotton
umbrella, a parrot in a cage, some ferns carefully wrapped
in wet newspapers, and a dilapidated rain-coat. She never
took her hand off her umbrella or the cage, and kept glancing
uneasily out of the window every few minutes. Every time
the conductor or porter came through, she told him to be
sure to put her off at her station, but she continued to sit on
the extreme edge of her seat, with the air of one who has a
morbid fear of getting left on a train, and is determined to
take all precautions to avoid it.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 109

Just at this minute a fat negro, looking extremely good
natured and well fed, waddled through the car, calling "Last
call for lunch," and I rose promptly and went into the dining
car.

Somehow, I dreaded waiting for my lunch — it would
take so long — I complained to myself, but I became so en-
grossed in watching the rest of the people that I forgot time,
lunch, and all else in my absorption.

Alone at one table sat a ruddy-faced and extremely stout
lady, who ate doggedly, with the air of one who is fully
determined to get her money's worth, though she suffer from
dyspepsia the rest of her life. I imagined she had come in
at the first call for lunch and had been eating steadily ever
since.

Across the way from her sat a small boy, who was care-
fully reading the menu from beginning to end, and his
round eyes were gleaming in delighted anticipation of the
glorious feast to come. His face beamed with the joy that
children alone exhibit in the dining car. To them to eat
there is one of the great things of life — they only can enjoy
eating soup while it sloshes almost into their eyes at each lurch
of the train — they only experience a great thrill over "ice
cream" and "assorted cake."

I finished my lunch, and returned to the sleeper, resigned
to a long and monotonous afternoon, but fate had decreed
otherwise. Upon four separate and distinct occasions I
detected with interest and amusement the bullet eyes of the
fat and irascible gentleman glancing covertly at the nervous
old lady — she detected it also, and coyly began a conversation
with the parrot, which went on in a low and unceasing mono-
tone for an interminable length of time. I noted, however,
that when the old gentleman was absorbed in his newspaper,
then her eyes found the bald head above the paper even more

110 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

interesting than the parrot. I wondered idly if there would
be any further developements of this amusing little scene,
and then Destiny, in the shape of the small boy across the
aisle, proceeded to arrange things for himself.

Wandering down the aisle, he leaned over the arm of the
old lady's seat, and, after regarding her attentively for a
few minutes, he remarked: "Lady, that man's looking at
you." I jumped — the old lady jumped, so did the old
gentleman, and every one else who had caught this startling
remark. "He looks," continued this small assistant of Cu-
pid, "he looks like he wants to come and talk to you."

The old lady blushed violently, but the old gentleman was
gallant. He rose, and to the extreme delight and interest
of all passengers, he soon possessed himself of the seat next
the old lady, remarking something about "the wonderful
intuition of small boys," etc.

All afternoon I watched the pair — the gallant old gentle-
man and the now coy old lady, and I was more than sorry
when I heard the call for Centreville and saw the old lady
reach for her carpet-bag. At any rate, the parting of these
new acquaintances would be interesting, I thought, but there
I was deceived. There was no parting — that gallant old
gentleman was talking most kindly to the small boy. He
was writing down his name and address in a note book —
how strange, I thought — then — "You must come to see
Maria and me," indicating the old lady by his fat thumb,
"when we get settled in Centreville," he said, "you dear
little, smart little boy!" The train stopped at Centreville,
and the old lady got off ; so did the gallant old gentleman —
and yet I had heard him say he was bound for the Golden
Gate. Evidently Centreville was now the Golden Gate
for him and I was sure from the cov blushes of the maiden
lady of the carpet-bag and the beaming countenance of the
gentleman of the bald head, that he had completely forgotten
his remark earlier in the day, that "Children ought not to
be allowed on trains." Maeie Abkams.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 111

Cfje <8>uacDtan Spirit

[Written on viewing our college buildings from the top of the hill
where Daisy Williams lies buried.]

N calm and peaceful silence, towering high
On the majestic crest of yon fair hill,
A solemn witness of a soul passed by,

Th' inspiring angel, motionless and still,
Points upward to the azure vault of Heaven,
With finger speaking Faith, his watchword
here.
Ah, would that it might now to thee be given
To share the joy of a Great Presence near,
In such retreat serene and undefiled,

Where Earth and Heaven mysteriously do meet !
I close my eyes and seem to see the child

Who, in that nearby world, life here complete,
Looks down, a spirit that has found release,
And guards her own last resting place in peace.

THE NEW

Below this hill, close nestled in a vale,

A noble piece of man's own handiwork
Rises alone mid Nature's stretch of dale — ■

Within her, life and consciousness do lurk;
Both of activity of body and

Of mind a home, concealed amongst these hills,
She gloriously meaningful doth stand —

A contemplative spirit she instills,
Suggesting thoughts magnificently mild,

By contrast with yon mount in clearest sight —
I close my eyes and seem to see the child

Reincarnated in the youth so bright,
Which lives and breathes and joys within these walls,

Scarce dreaming that her guarding spirit calls.

Henrietta Washburn.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Cfce ^torp of tbt CeOOp 15ear

WAY off in the deepest, darkest part of a
forest there used to be a little house, the
home of the Bear family. The same fam-
ily lived there that had treated little Golden
Locks so badly, when she visited them.
You remember all about that, don't you ?
There was Father Bear with his deep gruff voice, Mother
Bear, with her high squeaky voice, and Sonny Bear, with his
little shrill voice. Xow would you like to know how the
Bears and Golden Locks met again? If you would, here
is the story:

One morning little Sonny Bear got up on the wrong side
of bed, and that was the cause of all the trouble. Just as
soon as Sonny found that he had started the day wrong and
that he was as cross as a little bear could be, he decided that
he would be bad, just awful, all day long. Maybe if he'd
decided to be good, things would have gone better, but he was
too cross to want to be good.

Sonny went down to breakfast and he looked as mad as
hops; he swung his feet and kicked his chair, and put his
forepaws on the table, and wouldn't eat his porridge, and
pouted until his daddy wanted to spank him. After break-
fast he grumbled all the time he was wiping the dishes and
teased to go hunting honey until his mother boxed his ears
and sent him to bed without any dinner. ]\Tow wouldn't
you have thought that by this time any little bear would
have been tired of being bad? You'd have behaved then,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 113

wouldn't you ? But Sonny didn't, because you see, when
bears are cross and bad, they're lots crosser and badder than
little boys are.

Sonny went to his room and he behaved worse than ever.
The sun was shining out of doors and the flowers were
blooming and the breeze brought the smell of honey. Sonny
thought of awful things. He wouldn't stay in his room;
he was hungry and he wanted his dinner ; he wanted that
honey; he wouldn't stay shut up; he would run away. All
of a sudden he noticed a branch so near his window that he
could reach it, and quicker than a flash he was out of the
window and sliding down the tree to the ground. Then he
started off. He had decided to run away. He needed a
spanking, but you wait and see what happened to him.

Sonny went on and on. He walked so far that he got
almost out of the forest. But he hadn't found the honey
and his feet were tired and he began to wish he hadn't gone
quite so far. He sat down on a stone near a brook to rest
and to get a drink of water, when all of a sudden he heard
some one calling to him. Pretty soon a fairy peeped out
of a buttercup bloom.

"Hello !" she said, "You're Sonny Bear."

"Yep," said Sonny.

"What are you doing so far from home ?"

"I just earned," answered Sonny.

"You ran away."

Sonny only muttered something disagreeable.

"Aren't you ashamed ?"

"Xo, I ain't,"

"Well, you ought to be."

"Well, I ain't ; so there !"

"You're a bad, cross, little bear, and I'm afraid I'll have
to teach you a lesson."

114 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

"You dassen't !" yelled Sonny, and started to run away ;
but goodness ! he couldn't move at all ; he was just stiff. The
fairy jumped onto a butterfly's back and rode away and left
Sonny sitting there all alone on the stone, quite unable to
move. Sonny thought that he had sat there for hours before
he heard some one coming through the woods. My, but he
hoped with all his heart that it was the fairy again. ; but no,
a little girl came into sight among the trees. She came
nearer still ; and Sonny recognized Golden Locks. She was
looking for flowers, and in a minute she saw him.

"Oh, look ! It's a bear !" she cried ; "a make-believe
bear, and he's just like a sure-nuff one. Where'd he come
from ?"

Sonny tried his best to tell her he was a sure-nuff bear,
but he couldn't say a word. He felt Golden Locks pick him
up and squeeze him, and the next thing he knew he was on
the way home with her.

Golden Locks named him Teddy, played with him all day,
and took him to bed with her at night; and it was the fun-
niest thing, Sonny wasn't homesick, and he wasn't even hun-
gry, though he hadn't had a thing to eat since breakfast.
Golden Locks said she guessed he was stuffed with straw.
Maybe the fairy turned his heart and everything else into
something like that.

One day, after Teddy had been with Golden Locks about
a month, they had a visitor — a little girl — and she liked
Teddy so well that she wanted to take him home. Of course,
Golden Locks wouldn't allow that, but her mother said, that
if the little girl would come again the next day, she would
try to make a bear just like Teddy for her. That night
Teddy had to let them examine him all over. Then they set
to work on the new bear. They sewed up his skin and they

,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE .115

stuffed him with straw and they fixed his ears and sewed on
his legs and paws. Then they made some eyes out of shoe-
buttons, and fixed his nose and mouth, and the next day there
was a bear, almost as good as Teddy, waiting for the little
girl. She took him home, and goodness ! the next day, most
a dozen people came to ask Golden Locks' mother to make
them a Teddy bear. They kept coming every day, and buy-
ing bears as fast as they could be made, and it wasn't very
long before the family was almost rich ; so they lived happily
ever afterwards. But it used to make Teddy just mad be-
cause they put whistles inside the toy bears to make them
squeal, and he never could make a sound. He used to think
that it was too bad that the fairy hadn't turned his voice
into a whistle instead of just hay; and I do; too. Don't
you ?

Well, Teddy is still living with Golden Locks. I guess
he'd have been dead long ago if the fairy hadn't changed
him that day ; but, as it is, he's still alive and happy. So you
see Teddy did a lot of good after all, because if it hadn't
been for him you wouldn't have all those toy bears now. But
don't you think that you can be as cross and bad as you
please. Something awful might happen to you, and, any-
way, you wouldn't like to turn into a Teddy bear, would
you ? So when you get up on the wrong side of the bed in
the morning, just take my advice and get right back in
and get up on the other side.

Almekis Bailey.

116

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Cf)e Los* iftep

LOWLY the sunlight faded in the great
hall of the castle, the soft purple dusk,
rich and glowing, and mystic as only-
Spain can have, settled over the whole
world outside and left the great gloomy
castle hall dim and dark. A servant ap-
peared with a lamp, the light from which fell full on the
face of the motionless man at a table — a young and hand-
some face, but stern and cold, with dark, mocking eyes' and
a merciless month. This was Don Luis Cortez, the idol of
half the ladies in Spain, the darling of the court of Ferdi-
nand, the trial of his father's existence.

"Don Luis," — old Count Cortez came slowly into the
room — "have you thought of the request I made of you?
Have you decided upon a lady whom you wish to marry?"
In dead silence the young man arose and walked to the
door; then he turned his handsome head scornfully toward
the old man. "No," he laughed back, defiantly, "no — there
is no hurry," and he laughed again and disappeared out upon
the battlements.

"Sefior Don Luis Cortez" — he turned quickly at the soft,
mocking voice and faced a slender girl — a gypsy, dusky and
beautiful in the dim light, her luxuriant dark hair tied with
a brilliant red kerchief, her bare, brown neck and arms
adorned with many chains and strings of lustrous beads.
In astonishment he gazed at her. The look of cold scorn
left his face, and he took a step toward her. With her merry,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 117

mocking laugh, she sprang away from him and was gone,
with Cortez following her. Ah! had the fair, bejewelled
ladies of the court and the gallant courtiers seen indifferent
Don Luis Cortez in mad chase over the field and rocky road
after a Spanish gypsy, whose mocking laugh bewitched the
young lord, as she danced and laughed gaily ahead of him
in the moonlight, until he finally caught her in his arms !

Hours later, worn from his long, mad race, and burning
with a strange new love, Don Luis stood in the castle hall,
there to face the truth. In love with a Spanish gypsy,
he, Luis Cortez ! "'No !" he cried, in anger, striking his fist
on the table, "]STo, not I, Don Luis Cortez !"

Cortez married Rita Gonzales, a fair and high-born lady
of the court, married her in the spirit of stern defiance and
revenge upon his own heart, and the gypsy knew and grieved,
but she watched and waited in silence.

Cortez stood in the old tower one day, on the ground
floor, gazing out upon the dark forests and sunlit hills. The
mellow, sweet voice of his bride floated upward from the
great hall, singing an old Spanish love song, but Cortez
heard her not. He heard only a merry, mocking laugh — he
saw only a moonlit road, and a dancing girl with dusky hair,
beckoning him on and on over the rocky roads. Suddenly
he was aroused from his dreams by the click of a key in the
lock behind him, and he sprang for the door. It was locked.
Noiselessly a girl, with dusky hair and eyes blazing, blazing
with hatred and revenge, stole out into the open. She
wandered wildly over the fields, and flung the key far into
space, and then ran on and on and disappeared into the
darkness of the forest beyond.

High and low the castle folk searched for the young lord,
and in the lonely tower Cortez called and struggled and

118 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

wrenched at the massive door. At once the broken-hearted
old man, Cortez's father, after searching for days, and finally
giving up all hope, took his servants and his son's bride and
left the castle and returned to the castle of Sefiorita Gon-
zales' father.

The old castle was silent and deserted. One day at sun-
set Luis Cortez, summoning his last strength, dragged him-
self to the barred window. He started back at the sight of a
beautiful, dusky face. The gypsy gave a single glance at the
gaunt features of the man she had once loved; all the old
passion came back to her and her revenge was gone. "Don
Luis!" she screamed, "I locked you in! I locked you in!
The key, the key, the key ! She ran to the fields — all night
long in the moonlight and all the following day she searched
in her frenzy — then at sunset she returned and peered
through the grated window. Cortez lay on the stone floor.
He turned his great, dark eyes toward her and then smiled —
not the scornful smile of old, but one of tenderness and love.
"Senorita," he gasped, "it was always you whom I loved.
I forgive you. I love — " his voice sunk suddenly ; then he
spoke again. "I am dying," he whispered, hoarsely, "dying,
dying — " Mad with remorse, the gypsy tore at the heavy
bars ; she ran through the empty castle and beat frantically
upon the great door; then back again to the window, and
called to the man within. Cortez did not move. She called
again and again, and then, at last, she understood.

She clung to the gray wall, and it was cold and wet to
her bare arms. She called to the dead man and begged him
to speak. She tore at the bars until her hands were bruised
and bleeding. And then she flew to the fields and searched
and searched in the moonlight.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE .119

The moss had grown gray on the castle walls, and the
light shown in through the iron bars of the tower window
upon the bleaching bones of a skeleton. In the fields beyond,
an old gypsy crone wandered, searching, searching. She
was bent and wrinkled; her hair hung wildly around her
face in thin, white strands, and her dark eyes blazed with
fiery passion. A peasant asked her what she was searching
for. She raised her crazed face to his, and pointed to the
castle tower. "When I find the key," she cried, her wild
eyes burning with passionate hope and longing ; when I find
the key, Don Luis Cortez shall come out again in the sun-
shine; he'll wander with me in the moonlight. The key!"
she screamed, "I hunt for the key that is lost; I hunt for
the key that is lost!" Marie Abrams.

120 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

3[ack'0 JFirst Eeal experience

VElsT from the very first vision, when she
had been brought in by Miss Gibson, the
teacher, and given a place across the aisle
from him, Jack had been captivated. He
had undoubtedly met his Waterloo then and
there.

When she had been seated and had brushed off with her
sleeve her pencil-box key, it was Jack who had quickly picked
it up and presented it to her, swelling with pride to think
that he could have done a service for her so easily.

¥ow Jack was only eight years old, but he was proudly
conscious of gaining each day in physical and intellectual
powers. For every night didn't he stand by father while his
head came almost to father's wrist ; and didn't he every night
add and subtract sums and figures, reluctantly leaving when
Mary appeared — ushering him away in spite of all he could
say — and just as he was doing his very best ? The only great
cloud upon Jack's otherwise clear horizon was the fact that
he was endowed with more than his share of avoirdupois.
However, this cloud didn't look so awfully black, when
father had told him he needed everything he possibly could
possess to grow into a great big man. Jack never doubted
one word that father said, so he guessed that it was all right.
So, after her first day, he hurried home from school (he
knew the way now — Mary didn't have to come any more
for him) and breathlessly told mother all about her.

"Mother, her hair is real curly, and is all tied up with the
widest, bluest ribbon — so soft and so nice," he cried, looking

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 121

up into mother's smiling eyes. "And, mother, guess what
her name is ? It's Eloise, and just as I was going to ask
her where she lived when school was out, up came a worser
and crosser girl than Mary, mother! Oh, she was1 awful
ugly! Well, she came and took her away — and she didn't
want to go either!"

Every night when mother and father were sitting by the
fire, Jack would give glowing accounts of what he had given
to Eloise that day ; what she said ; how she laughed when
Bobbie Jones had to sit upon a chair by Miss Gibson for be-
ing bad. Once Jack had given her some big chocolates, so she
threw away her peanuts that Bobbie had given her. Then all
the boys laughed at Bobbie, and he grew so mad that he said
he'd get even some day, for girls couldn't do anything and
were only babies. Father glanced at mother then, who took
Jack upon her lap and told him that she hoped her son
would never say such bad and ugly words about little girls
as Bobbie Jones did. Little girls were not made to be
strong or rough as little boys were, therefore he should al-
ways treat them with kindness and respect. So Jack prom-
ised mother faithfully that he would.

One day Miss Gibson told the children that the next day
would be St. Valentine's — a day when little children re-
membered one another with the kindest thoughts and words,
explaining to them how they could do this. That afternoon,
when school was dismissed, all the boys gathered in front of
the gate and talked about the valentines. Bobbie Jones was
going up to his uncle's store and just buy any one he wanted,
for Bobbie had seen one up there the night before in the
window. He was going to get one for some one, too ! "You
bet! and maybe some one won't be glad!" and he turned a
menacing eye on Jack.

122 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Jack sniffed, answering back, "Well, I guess I don't care."

Then all the boys laughed and Bobbie Jones called out,
"Comei on, boys, let's chase Fatty!"

And Billy Emmory shouted, "He's des so fat he tan't
wun, eben !" Billy hadn't yet been able to overcome the
great social error of lisping. Then all the boys laughed and
jeered at Jack and called him "Ellie girl, Ellie girl," till
his face flushed up, and he shook his little fat fist right up
under Bobbie Jones' nose and told him he'd just better keep
still. That he shouldn't dare to talk about that Eloise girl
or he'd hit him one right under the eye, and it would hurt,
too. Bobbie only laughed and turned on his heel.

"Come on, fellows!" he shouted. "Don't hurt that baby
girl !" and away they ran.

Jack was indignant, to say the least, and stood just where
they left him, watching them as they ran away down the
street. His eyes became real large and so bleared he couldn't
see the boys for a second. Something dropped upon his
cheek — swiftly with his little clenched fist he brushed that
drop away, and turned all around to see if anyone was looking.
No one was, so he swallowed that big lump in his throat real,
real hard, and turned and ran as fast as his little legs would
<;arry him towards home.

When he reached home, there stood Mary instead of
mother at the door waiting for him. Now he wanted to see
mother above everybody else; but Mary told him she was
away, and that he must come right upstairs. Jack did not
feel so inclined, and he persisted in remaining before the
fire there to wait for mother. However, with some coaxing
and debating upon Mary's part, Jack was at last persuaded
to go up stairs to the nursery, where little boys should go.

The valentines weighed heavily upon Jack's mind, and after

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 123

imperiously ordering Mary to hunt those "colored pencils,"
he decided to make some valentines for mother, dear, for
father, and, yes — for Eloise. After Mary brought his pen-
cils and some papers he started diligently to work.

"Mary," he said, "Mary — "

"Well, well, Jack?" answered Mary.

"Why, jes' how does a val'tine look like?"

"Why, a what?"

"Why, a val'tine." Mary never could understand any-
thing like mother anyway. "Teacher told us to-morrow
was Val'tine day, and I want to know what a val'tine is
like?" he asked slowly and somewhat forcefully to make
Mary comprehend.

"Oh ! A valentine ! Why — er — like a heart."

"A what ?"

"A heart, child, what do you want ?"

"A heart ? What's that ?"

"Oh, it's a part of your body, boy S" she answered crossly.
Mary always was so cross whenever she sewed like that.

"But, Mary, I don't see it," in a hardly audible whisper.
The tired Mary religiously put down her sewing, mutter-
ing something Jack couldn't understand, and told him if he
asked any more silly questions she would take his pencils
away. Then she drew him a heart upon the paper. After it
was drawn, poor Jack didn't know what to do with it. So
he sat disconsolately by the window, not daring to ask any
more questions from Mary, and wishing with all his heart
that his mother and father would come home.

At last up came a carriage to his house and out stepped
mother, dear.

"Mary ! Mary ! there's mother, dear," he cried, and
pounded on the window-pane to make her look up. But she

124 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

wouldn't, so he jumped from the window and ran breath-
lessly down the stairs to mother. She held out her arms to
him, and he ran right up to her. He never was so glad to
see her before in all his life. She looked so pretty all dressed
up in blue just like Eloise.

"Come, mother, dear," he said, pulling her by the hand;
"I want to tell you about our val'tine." So what could
mother do but follow him to the fire and listen about his
valentine.

"What is a heart for, mother ?"

"My dear, it is to keep your strength and body in a proper
condition. It pumps the blood all through your body ; with-
out it you couldn't live. Ask father; he'll tell you better
than I."

"Well, nurse told me it was like this," and he traced an
imaginary one in the air with his finger. "Is it?"

"Yes, that's the way it looks."

"Well, do I have to have one for a val'tine ?"

"Yes, I believe you should — but, listen, there is father —
hurry, son, or you won't be ready for dinner."

After dinner, with father's and mother's assistance, a
valentine was painfully constructed. A rather bulgy heart,
all shaded with blue.

" 'Cause, mother, you know she always wears blue ribbons
on her head. So, I think that's the nicest color, don't you ?"
So blue was the color of the heart. Then mothei brought
some blue ribbon to tie the valentine with at the top. Father
suggested a few words be written across the top. Jack didn't
seem to know what to write, so after much thinking and
scratching of the head upon Jack's part, the inscription was
decided upon. Across the top was printed, "To Eloise,
from Jack."

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE .125

The next morning Jack could scarcely wait until Mary
started him to school with the valentine snugly in his pocket.
He arrived there early, only to find Miss Gibson, who smiled
to see him so early. Jack assumed an attitude of indiffer-
ence— almost impossible when this was the great St. Valen-
tine's day, and there down in his pocket was one for Eloise.
Once Miss Gibson left the room, and Jack took his opportun-
ity and quickly placed his blue heart on Eloise's desk. The
other pupils came exchanging and distributing valentines.
Soon it was almost time for the bell to ring and school to
begin, but Eloise hadn't yet appeared. Jack became worried
and fidgeted to the door and then to his desk again. At last
she came, all dressed with her ribbons on her hair, sure
enough. Jack smiled and beamed upon her. Eloise,
though, didn't see him. She went to her desk, where there
were already many other valentines from other boys and girls.
Eloise smiled and looked so pleased that Jack had to laugh.
Everybody crowded around her to see what valentines
she had received, Jack remaining on the outer edge of the
group, where he could just peep through and watch her. She
opened them, one by one, laughing and smiling all the time.
At last she came to his, and Jack's heart stood still, failing
him just for a minute as he turned his eyes away. However,
he mustered up sufficient courage to look again. Yes, there
she was still smiling, and, looking around the group, she
caught his eye and then smiled more than ever. Just at that
moment up came Bobbie Jones, elbowing his way through.
He placed proudly upon Eloise's desk a big square box.
Everybody gasped — even Eloise — and she hurriedly untied
the string, thanking him. Bobbie importantly gazed at her
as she took out the valentine. Every one was real still, and
all gazed at it in awe and amazement, for it was a big square

126 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

valentine, all trimmed with white, gold and silver paper and
blue pictures. It was the most beautiful object they had
ever beheld.

"Oh!" said Eloise, and thanked Bobbie again, who
stiffly answered:

"You're welcome." Then Bobbie's eye caught the de-
jected blue heart lying on the desk. He saw at once that it
was from Jack. He took it up between his fingers and held
it up before everybody, and laughed until Eloise blushed.

"So Fatty made you this, did he ?" If you keep Fatty's,
you can't have mine — so there!" and he jeeiingly pointed his
finger to Jack, who had fallen into his seat.

Eloise's cheek was real red as she wavered, fingering the
blue heart with its cherished blue ribbon; but this other big
valentine had completely won her with its new "boughten
airs." She glanced up. There stood Bobbie, looking scorn-
fully at her. She turned to look at Jack, who was gazing at
her with all his soul. Then — Bobbie laughed and pointed
his finger at Eloise, calling:

"Jack's your beau !" and with that Eloise stoutly re-
futed by ruthlessly tearing up the valentine with her two
little hands and stamped her foot, saying:

"He's not !"

Then Miss Gibson rang the bell and everybody had to go
to their seats. Jack's little heart was pounding so fast he
thought he would have to jump up. That persistent lump
he forced down again and again, and he disdained to glance
up for one moment or even notice Eloise.

That afternoon, when school was out, he hastened home,
and there was mother waiting at the door for him this time.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

127

He never did understand how mother knew, for before he
even had uttered one word she had stooped down and said :

"Why, Jack! What's the matter, lad?

Then Jack couldn't hold back those tears any longer.
Mother led him to the fireplace and never said one word.
When he had used every dry spot upon his handkerchief,
which had been compressed to the minimum size of a tightly-
rolled ball, she silently handed him hers. Finally, after Jack
could sob no longer, he turned to mother and told her every-
thing that had happened. Mother never questioned, for she
understood. Then Jack ended by saying:

"And, mother, don't ever ask me about — about — her any
more!"

And mother never did.

Isabel Ketking.

& A £

jFitoe#ear*£DiD amtutton

DOX'T just know what I will do
When I'm a grown-up man ;

I'd like to sail across the sea
And find out some new land.

But mother says there're no lands left

And all discov'ring's done;
I guess I'll build a big airship

And go to 'splore the sun.

Rebecca White, '13.

EDITORIAL

Jennie Hurt Editor-in-Chief

Associate Editors:
Eugenia W. Gbiffin Annie M. Powell
Frances P. Murbell Mary B. Pinkerton
Mary V. Parker.
Eugenia M. Buffington Business Manager

We are again agitating the question of changing our col-
lege colors. Twice before in the history of the College has
the dissatisfaction with rose and green arisen
Our College among the students and even members of the

Colors. faculty. Twice before has it been moved and
seconded in our mass-meeting that white be
substituted for the rose. Each time, however, the motion
failed to carry a two-thirds vote of the student body.

A few weeks ago the question was again brought up and
the vote for white and green was carried by a considerable
majority. There was a sufficient number of students, how-
ever, to call for a reconsideration of this action ; as a result
of which a committee on college colors has been appointed
to correspond with the largest supply shops in the country in
order to see if the suitable shades of rose and green can pos-
sibly be procured.

The chief cause of discontent on the part of so many of
the students and faculty comes from the fact that it has
seemed impossible to get pretty shades of rose and green in
felt, and hence some very startling combinations of these
colors have been made. We are glad that the atrocious pink
and green Sweet Briar pennants which hang in the shop
windows of Lynchburg, and even in our own book store,
have not appeared to the artistic sensibilities of our students.
We do not feel ourselves that they are altogether pleasing to

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE .129

our own aesthetic senses, yet we do think that we should not
give up the colors which have meant so much to us for four
years without going to the bottom of the affair and proving
to ourselves that it is impossible for us to procure the suitable
shades.

Rose and green have a meaning to us, for they represent
the blossoms and foliage of the sweet-briar rose, for which
our founder named her home and for which she requested
that our college be named.

This idea has been carried out still further by our motto,
"Rosam quae meruit ferat" — "Let her who has deserved the
rose wear it," and by the name of our annual, The Briar
Patch. Take away the colors, rose and green, and substitute
white and green, and all unity is gone. Let us not, therefore,
fling aside our colors with too great haste, but rather let us
leave no stone unturned in our attempt to preserve them in
their suitable shades.

Without going deeply into the time-worn discussion of the

advantages of college life and college training, let us consider

for a moment the opportunities which we have

Social here at Sweet Briar for deriving those benefits

Intercourse which come to us through social intercourse
with our fellow-students.

Although not yet four years old Sweet Briar has among
her one hundred and forty students representatives from
twenty-four states. From Florida and Texas to Maine, from
California to the eastern part of our own state our students
come. From the country, from towns and from cities, from
various stations in life, from families of all denominations,
these hundred and forty girls have gathered together in one
place to study and to profit by the contact of student with
student.

130 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

In a college, therefore, like ours, which is in no sense local,
denominational or undemocratic, we can gain much from
those with whom we associate from day to day. If we
would gain a broad view of life we must choose as our
friends not only those whose ideals and tastes coincide with
our own, but those who differ from ourselves in temperament
and in their social as well as in their religious views.

It was to emphasize these advantages that our Student
Government Association in the year 1908-09 added By-Law
XXIII to its Constitution, by which all secret organizations
are forbidden.

This is a step which we ourselves have taken. May we
advance still further by establishing in our college, instead
of the little cliques and narrow circles so characteristic of
dormitory life, that broad spirit of democracy and of cos-
mopolitanism which will thus enable us to enjoy those op-
portunities which are here to such splendid advantage.

It does our hearts good to see the work on our new dormi-
tory progressing so rapidly. This dormitory, which will be
north of Kandolph Hall, will have on the
Our New lower floor a large assembly room which,

Dormitory though only a temporary one, will for the
present answer the purpose of both auditorium
and chapel.

The year 1908-09 gave us Randolph Hall, and now 1910
will see the erection of a fourth dormitory. If every two
years henceforth should give us a new building the quad-
rangle which we all hope some day to see would be very soon
complete.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 131

As we consider the various exchanges on our table, we
feel almost at a loss to know where to begin in this, our first
attempt at criticism. Each magazine possesses its peculiar
merits, and naturally many of them have their weak points.
It would be a hopeless task for an inexperienced exchange
department editor to attempt to review all or even a large
number of these exchanges. So, after much deliberation,
we have decided to confine our efforts in this issue to writing,
not a criticism but a brief appreciation of, what we consider,
the two best magazines upon our table — The University of
Virginia Magazine and The Vassar Miscellany. Both of
these possess a breadth and a balance which we hope, in time,
The Sweet Beiar Magazine will acquire.

With the editor of The University of Virginia Magazine
the policy seems to be to make their production representa-
tive of the spirit and customs of the South, particularly of
Virginia. This seems to us an excellent policy, the devel-
opment of which gives to this magazine its chief interest.
The articles in the series, "In the Old Dominion," are well
developed character sketches, sketches which give us an
insight into the lives of somewhat obscure Virginia heroes.
"Vignettes in Ebony," a series of negro dialect poems, and
the discussions of Various Southern writers which have
appeared in the issues, are well written and interesting.
While this policy of reproducing Southern customs and
spirit seems to be predominant in the magazine, it in no wise
restricts its development along other and broader lines.

132 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Indeed, as we have said before, it is the breadth and balance
of the magazine which arouses our admiration, the forceful
and able way in which each department is handled, in which
each is fully developed while overemphasis is given to none.

We have read the various issues of the Vassar Miscellany
with the keenest interest. Here, as in the University of
Virginia Magazine, it is the departmental development of
which we especially approve. The Vassar Miscellany wisely
strives to draw the attention of the students from the narrow
college walls to the problems of the outside world. The
"Current Topics" are well chosen and most instructive. The
magazine reviews, too, are very profitable to the student. Pos-
sibly, of all the articles that have appeared in the issues, we
were most interested in the one entitled, "The Vassar Mis-
cellany," dealing with the development of the magazine from
the founding to the present day. We were encouraged to
know that even a magazine of this high order had undergone
a struggle for existence, and we were inspired to hope that
some day our efforts will be crowned with the success which
has crowned the efforts of the editors of the Vassar Miscellany.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 133

athletics

On account of the cold rainy weather during the winter
months, the members of the tennis club were unable to use

the courts. JSFow, however, since the courts have
Tennis been graded and the backstops have been repaired,

tennis players are enthusiastically planning for the
annual spring tournament. Those who are devoted to the
game have already begun to practice daily in order to enter
as contestants. Not only those students who play tennis,
but those who are mere spectators, await the outcome of the
tournament with intense interest, for then the annual cham-
pionship in both doubles and singles will be determined.
The tournament will be held during the first two weeks of
May.

At a recent meeting of the Boating Club, plans for an
aquatic meet were formulated. This will be the first event

of the kind to be held on the lake, but since
Lake Meet many of our students are good swimmers we

do not doubt that it will be a great success.
The date for the meet has not yet been set, but will probably
be near the middle of May. A big raft will be anchored in
the center of the lake from which diving and swimming
contests of all kinds will take place. Water polo will also
be played by those who are sufficiently expert in swimming.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

g, am. €♦ a. Jftotes

The value of electing the new officers in the middle of the
session has been shown by the greater ease and readiness
with which the new committees have been organized. These
committees, which were selected soon after the election of
officers, have already drawn up their policies and begun their
work for next year.

The Cabinet has made many interesting plans for the rest
of this year. One of the most successful, no doubt, will be
the circus, which, though conceived of primarily because of
its money-making possibilities, will afford great merriment
to both audience and performers.

The Association has another plan in view for raising
money which will be put into execution at the end of the
year. This plan is to purchase the books used by the classes
of this year in order to sell them at a small profit to the
incoming students, thus aiding both seller and buyer.

Our delegates to the Asheville Convention last June were
sorry not to see Sweet Briar represented among the many
beautiful and interesting exhibits of the various associations.
This year, however, Sweet Briar will not be omitted, for
posters, books, and other samples of the work of the asso-
ciation are being collected for the next convention.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 135

College Copies

We are always glad to hear about the old "Polly Tech."
We love still better, however, to hear of her from those who
know and love her. Better still do we love to hear her deeds
sung by the V. P. I. Glee Club.

Though the Glee Club has visited us before, this fact did
not cause our enjoyment of the entertainment on Saturday
evening, February 5th, to be at all diminished.

The Faculty Committee on Entertainment is to be con-
gratulated on the quality of the musical treats they have
secured this year. They have given us the opportunity
of hearing Ernest Hutchinson and Maude Powell, foremost
representatives of pianists and violinists in America, and in
February they gave us the further pleasure of hearing a
baritone singer who, while not yet famous in America, bids
fair to become so — Horatio Connell.

It may be said without exaggeration that never has a
concert been more enjoyed at Sweet Briar than the one
given by Mr. Connell on the evening of February the twelfth.
The wonderful quality and tone of the singer's voice, com-
bined with the charm of his personality, made his singing all
that could be desired.

Mr. Connell, who is an American by birth, has but lately
returned from London, where he has lived for the past nine
years. We are glad that he will now make his home in
America. From Sweet Briar Mr. Connell went to Pitts-
burg to fill engagements, and in May he is to take part in the
May Festival at Spartanburg.

136 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Bad as was the night of Friday, February 18, the students
would not be deprived of the pleasure of hearing Sembrich.
A special train was sent out and about eighty of the students
undertook the stormy trip to Lynchburg. At two o'clock
next morning they trooped into the dormitories, delighted
with Madame Sembrich and with their journey.
&

It often comes into people's heads that girls' do not appre-
ciate mathematical charts, scientific terms, etc. Perhaps this
is sometimes true, but not always does it hold, as we observed
on Saturday, February 19, when Prof. Stevens of Washing-
ton and Lee, in his most interesting lecture on "The Comet,"
showed us by means of his charts the intricate paths of
some of the heavenly bodies. It was particularly interesting
to us to hear of Halley's Comet, which has become visible
to us since Prof. Stevens' lecture.

The much-debated subject of government ownership of
railroads was the point of controversy at the debate held
February 21, between the Junior debaters, Jennie Hurt and
Mary Parker, and 'the Sophomore representatives, Elsie
Zaegel and Mary Pinkerton. The Juniors fought bravely
for corporation ownership while the Sophomores upheld the
government side of the question. The debate opened with
simple statements, made both amusing and emphatic by the
debaters. But as the controversy progressed the battle
became quite furious. When every phase of the question
had been discussed and exhausted by both sides, the judges
found themselves confronted by a problem which was very
difficult to solve. Finally, after considering and weighing
all the points made, it was decided that the victory should
go to the Sophomores, So the weighty problem was solved
for once and for all time.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 137

The Freshmen "babies" are "spunky children" after all.

On the eve of Washington's birthday they surprised the
other three classes with the most attractive little envelopes
decorated with red cherries and enclosing invitations to a won-
derful dinner. This dinner, which was served in courses,
and the beautifully decorated table would have delighted the
heart of old "Georgie" himself.

Later in the evening the Freshmen entertained us with
a real George Washington play — real, for there was the
cherry tree which the obstreperous George whacked down,
and there was George's father, who forbore to lay hands on
this mischievous young rascal because he couldn't tell a lie.
The play was dramatized by one of these same Freshmen
and presented by them also. Hurrah, we say for the
Freshmen ! &

Even though we are college students we have not for-
gotten the pleasures of our childhood. This was proven by
the enthusiasm which was manifested when it was announced
that Dr. Walker would give a "moving-picture show" in the
assembly room on the evening of February 26. Our enthus-
iasm was found to be not in the least misplaced, for this
entertainment was even more unique and interesting than
such entertainments usually are. Views of Canada, Alaska,
and California passed before our eyes in the most remarkable
fashion while, at the same time, our appreciation of them
was increased by Dr. Walker's remarks upon his personal
experiences in these countries.

After the "show," ice-cream and cake were served in the
Domestic Science room.

The proceeds of both entertainments were for the benefit
of the much-desired hockey-field. We are indebted to Dr.
Walker not only for his assistance in our endeavor, but for
a most enjoyable evening.

138 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

One would imagine that the whole Senior Class, in migrat-
ing from the second floor of Randolph Hall at Sweet Briar
College, to Lynchburg, twelve miles distant, at six o'clock
on Sunday morning, would have done so in a more orderly
manner than these aforesaid Seniors did on February 27,
when they were invited to spend the day with Mr. and Mrs.
Manson. We can forgive them this time, however, for arous-
ing us from our morning nap, for the anticipation of a
visit to Mr. and Mrs. Manson could not but cause even our
calm and collected upper classmen a certain thrill of excite-
ment.

Those of us who think that we are nice looking and who
pride ourselves on the taste of our attire must have had
reason to change our opinions on the evening of February
28, when the college students attended a "tacky party" given
by the Specials and Sub-Freshmen. From the country boy
gazing at the sights before him with eyes and mouth stretched
wide to the aged lady clad in blue print with "specs" orna-
menting the end of her nose, not one "tack" was missing.
There, in the Refectory, they danced and chatted, interspers-
ing the gaieties with generous glasses of pink lemonade.
When the ten o'clock bell sounded the company departed
tired, but happy and grateful to their hostesses for thus
giving them the opportunity of experiencing the joys of
"tacks."

Prof. Abbott of Blacksburg, well known at Sweet Briar
in connection with the V. P. I. Glee Club, gave us a delight-
ful concert on the evening of March 5th. We hope that it
will not be long ere he visits us again.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE .139

On Saturday evening, March 2nd, we welcomed another
of Washington and 'Lee's professors. This time it was
Dr. Currell, who lectured to us on "The Tempest." Though
some of us were at first disappointed that he had not selected
"As you Like It," our commencement play, we were in the
end glad that Dr. Currell had made so wise a selection.

After Dr. Currell's lecture the faculty and Seniors were
invited by Mr. and Mrs. Crawford to meet Dr. Currell in
their home.

During the evening, which seemed to flee so rapidly away,
delightful refreshments were served.

On Monday, March 7th, the first issue of our annual, The
Briar Patch, was escorted by both "business manager and
editor-in-chief to the printers. So important a manu-
script as this could not, of course, be entrusted to Uncle
Sam's protection even for a journey of twelve miles ! All
of us, as well as its staff, are eagerly awaiting the return of
this much-longed-for traveler.

It will be of interest to all who visited Sweet Briar last
May Day to know that this year, instead of "Robin Hood,"
a mask will be presented in the Sweet Briar Dell in honor
of the queen and her court. Plans are now being made
for that day as well as for the concert and dance, which in
the evening are to follow these festivities.

The Dramatic Club has decided to present as our com-
mencement play in June, "As You Like It." Though the
club has never before undertaken one of Shakespeare's plays,
we see no reason why this undertaking should not prove
a great success — in fact, we know that it will.

140 THE BWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

The very interesting talk on the Indians, which Mr. Dew-
gave the Current Events Club Sunday night, March 6th,
opened the eyes of many of the students for the first time
really to this very difficult problem with which the govern-
ment is wrestling.

Mr. Dew's work with the Indians, in the employ of the
government, was in the interest of missionary as well as edu-
cational ends. Thus it is that he could give such an intimate,
sympathetic and unprejudiced view of their daily life, charac-
teristics, and customs.

The Club is much indebted to Mr. Dew for the store of
facts which he gave them from his experience among the
various tribes, but even more for the wealth of folklore with
which he so characteristically lightened his address. We
sincerely hope this is only the beginning and that Mr. Dew
will very soon favor all the students with a talk on the
same interesting topic.

Everyone who knows Virginia Shoop knows of her won-
derful musical talent. We do not hesitate to say that we are
proud of her and expect great things of her in the future. We
were sorry indeed to part with her as well as with her music,
but we are glad that she shall have the privilege of studying
in Germany under Teichmuller.

We are publishing in this issue a copy of Virginia's
recital in order that those who know her may see for them-
selves what we enjoyed on March 19.

Program
Grieg — Sonata for Piano and Violin, Op. 8, Allegro con brio

MISS SHOOP AND DR. HUMPHREYS

| Impromptu, Op. 36.

Chopin < Etude, Op. 10, No. 5

miss snoop I Waltz, Op. 34, 'No. 1

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 141

Hugo Wolf Yerborgenheit

Strauss Trauxn durch die Dammerung

Brahms Das Madchen Spricht

MBS. BUSHNELL

Liszt Petrarca Sonetto, Xo. 123

Paderewski Polonaise, Op. 9, Xo. 6

MISS SHOOP

Del Riego /. Red Clover

Wh ite When the Swallows Homeward Fly

Hatton Bid Me to Live

MRS. BUSHNELL

Mendelssohn Concerto in G minor — last movement

MISS SHOOP

With accompaniment of 2d piano and double string quartette.

Be it Resolved, That the students of Sweet Briar College do
hereby express their warmest appreciation of the action of
their chaplain, Rev. Wallace E. Rollins, in declining the
many and urgent calls recently extended to him.

Be it Resolved also, That not only do the students recognize
in Mr. Rollins a chaplain who exerts an active and forceful
influence for good in their college, but they recognize in him
a personal and sympathetic friend of each individual girl.
Be it further Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions
be presented to Mr. Rollins, a copy published in the next
issue of the college magazine, and a copy entered on the
minutes of the Student Government Association.

Eugenia Whyte Griffin,
Margaret L. Dalton,
Alma Wheeler Booth,
Annie Marion Powell,
Committee from the Student Body.

142 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Personals

We are glad indeed to welcome to Sweet Briar Miss S. G.
Patterson, who has just returned from Germany.

The many friends of Lanier Dunn are glad to have her
again with them at Sweet Briar.

Beba Stephenson, who was so fortunate in having her
mother with her during her long illness at the Infirmary,
is now quite well and enjoying a visit from her sister, Miss
Helen Stephenson.

It was a great pleasure to have with us just before the
Easter vacation Mrs. Katherine Salter Bushnell. We have
always enjoyed Mrs. Bushnell's singing. When we heard,
therefore, that she would take part in Virginia Snoop's
recital we were even more delighted to have her with us.

Margaret Cobb, who had to leave college on account of
illness, is now much better. We sincerely hope that she will
be able to be with us during the May Day festivities.

Mary Pinkerton was very fortunate in having her mother
with her before the Easter vacation.

Byrd Knox also enjoyed a visit from her mother before
and during the Easter vacation.

Mrs. Davidson, of Washington, D. C, visited her
daughter Nelle for a few days this spring.

Cammie Bodman's mother and little sister were with
her for some time during March.

Mr. Catlett, from Staunton, visited his daughter Lucy
during the early spring.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 143

Margaret Thomas, Lillian Bowman, Katherine Lanier,
Bessie Grammer, Clyde Cranford, Sara Denham, Lou Em-
ma McWhorter, Emma Clyde and Katherine McDonald,
chaperoned by Miss Cole and Miss Shaw, attended the hops
on February 5 th at Washington and Lee University.

Margaret Dalton, Virginia Eldridge, Martha Tillman and
Mary Ervin attended the Woodbury Forest hops in February.

Frances Richardson had as her guest for several days in
March her father, Mr. J. L. Richardson.

The engagement of Miss Janie Owen, of Lynchburg, to
Mr. Charlie Heald, one of our college directors, also of
Lynchburg, has been announced. The marriage will soon
take place.

Mr. Bell, of Lexington, and Mr. Rollins exchanged pul-
pits some time ago. Mr. Bell, who came for both morning
and evening service, was enjoyed by students and faculty.

Mrs. Buffington and her daughter Sara Louise arrived a
short while before the Easter vacation for a visit to Eugenia
Buffington. Mrs. Buffington with her two daughters spent
the vacation at Hot Springs, Virginia.

Luima Pfeiffer's mother, father and little sister visited
her a short while ago.

Directory of §>toeet IBriar College

OFFICERS OF THE COLLEGE.

President Dr. Mary K. Benedict

Treasurer and Business Manager William B. Dew

STUDENT GOVERNMENT ASSOCIATION.

President Annie M. Powell

Vice-President Jennie Hurt

Secretary Louise M. Hooper

Treasurer Annie W. Cumnock

YOUNG WOMEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION.

President Loulle W. Wilson

Vice-President Eugenia M. Buffington

Secretary Henrietta Washburn

Treasurer Elsie Zaegal

ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION.

President Mary V. Parker

Vice-President Alma W. Booth

Secretary Mary Tyler

Treasurer Helen Lamfrom

HEADS OF SPORTS.

Tennis Frances P. Murrell

Coif Martha Tillman

Boating Kathleen Cowghill

Basket-hall Annie W. Cumnock

DRAMATIC CLUB.

President Eugenia W. Griffin

Vice-President Virginia Shoop

Treasurer Margaret Dalton

DEBATING CLUB.

President Annie W. Cumnock

Vice-President Margaret Browning

Secretary Frances N. Matson

CLASS PRESIDENTS.

Senior Class Louise M. Hooper

Junior Class Josephine W. Murray

Sophomore Class Frances N. Matson

Freshman Class Margaret Dalton

SWEET BRIAR ANNUAL.

Editor-in-Chief Annie M. Powell

Business Manager Frances P. Murrell

ADVERTISEMENTS

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Contents

PAGE

Eye (Poem). Mary Pinkerton, '12 147

The Development of the Arthur Cycle. Louise

M. Hooper, '10 148

Love (Poem). L. E 158

Robert Herrick — A Study of His Poetry. E. W.

M., '11 159

The Vision of Saint Anthony. Louise M. Hooper,

'10 165

The Wood-Road (Poem). M 173

May Day. V 175

When in Rome. Henrietta Washburn 179

Reminiscences of a Poet. B. B. White, '13 185

The Indian Settlement. A. M. P . 192

Sweet Briar Residents. A. W. Cumnock, '10 196

To the Spirit of Song (Poem). M 200

The Foreign Nieces of Miss Susanne. Marie

Abrams 200

Editorials 203

Athletics 206

Y. W. C. A 209

College Topics 211

Personals 216

15Mint$$ Manager's Announcement

The Sweet Briar Magazine, which is conducted by the student
body of Sweet Briar College, is at present published quarterly.

We call the attention of our readers, and especially of the students,
to the firms who advertise with us and who thus have contributed
materially to the financial support of the magazine. We hope that in
return the students will, as far as possible, give them their patronage.

Subscription, $1.50 per year. Our advertising rates are, per year:

One page $20.00

Half page 15.00

Quarter page 8.00

Eighth page 5.00

Payments for advertisements are due after the first issue of the
magazine. All subscriptions must be paid in advance.

Address all business communications to

Eugenia M. Buffington, Bus. Mgr.,
Sweet Briar College.

J. P. BELL COMPANY, INC., PRINTERS, LYNCHBURG, VA.

A_

Published Quarterly by the Students of Sweet Briar College

Vol. I

SWEET BRIAR, VA., JUNE, 1910

No. 4

Kpe

m

A

m

LL day long in the wind its gray-green waves are
rounding
To silver in the red valley,
Till they sweep up the hillside to rally
Their tossing crests on the ridge in a sea without
sounding.

But at evening their surges stand still, the wind
roaming,
Grown gentle, whispering slowly
In the rye, murmurs a holy
Benediction before its footsteps pass in the
gloaming.

Mary Pinkerton, '12.

148 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

C&e Development of tjje 3rti)ur Cpcle

From the Beginning Through Geoffrey of Monmouth.

HOUGH the English possess no epic which
can be considered genuinely national, per-
haps owing to the fact that there was a
conflict during the epic period between so
many heterogeneous traditions, yet their
loss is more than atoned for in the possession
of that greatest of national creations, the legendary history
of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.

Despite the fact that a mighty effort has been made in an
attempt to uplift King Arthur as a national hero, for a
scientific age such as ours, his fame rests too obviously on a
legendary foundation to admit of its acceptance as a basis of
national pride. There can be no dispute, however, as to the
supreme position in our literature which is accorded
Arthurian romance, at once so full of love and adventure, so
seemingly infinite in variety, and so captivating in its sug-
gestion. The Arthur tales will be remembered when those of
historic heroes are long since lost among the multitudinous
facts of history. We shall never cease, as long as the Celtic
blood flows in our veins, to be profoundly stirred by the
stories in connection with the life of this mystic king. It
will perhaps ever be true that here poets, artists, musicians
will ever find inspiraton to their best efforts.

The character of Arthur is as fascinating as it is complex.
Of one thing we can be sure and that is that there was once
a real Arthur, who later became the hero of the Welsh tales,
the "Chronicles" of Geoffrey of Monmouth, and the
romances of the Round Table.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 149

It is indeed unfortunate that it is impossible for us to
construct a coherent historical picture, by which we would
thus be enabled to compare side by side the historical and the
legendary personages. It is most certainly an error for any-
one to suppose those legends, which group themselves about
the life of the romantic king, to be arbitrary creations, and
not to recognize them as having an origin in real fact and
a rational development long before the period, in which,
crystallized in their final legendary form, they are merged in
the current of literature.

We should remember that before Arthur appeared in
French form in the romance of the Round Table he was
a Celtic hero in the Breton and more especially still in the
yet earlier Welsh tales. Behind these there was the original
Arthur, perhaps the last great Celtic chief in Great Britain,
to whom belonged the honor of giving the last blow to the
Saxon invasion in Kent and West Wales. His legendary
development may perhaps be traced to the defeat of the Celtic
genius in arms, which forthwith resorted to songs for revenge,
the true mark of a conquered race.

The prophecies of Merlin for the real Arthur are certainly
more than realized by that hero in the tales which per-
petuated his fame. In the course of a few centuries of oral
repetition, and in addition to this in the course of a migration
to a different people and language, the tales were gradually
altered to a far ampler tenor. It is surely only natural to
suppose that they underwent a marked degree of change in
crossing the channel and in exchanging the soil and speech
of Brittany for those of France. With the amplifying of
the tone of the tales came inevitably an equal growth in the
proportions of the hero.

From the Celtic chieftain develops the poetic king, who,
not content with pacifying the Celts, defeats the Saxons, and

150 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

crowns his declining years with the establishment of a reign
of peace and justice upon earth.

The construction of this edifice of fable, however, by which
it is evident the Celts hoped to conceal from themselves the
real ruin of their race, was not completed in a single day. As
has before been suggested, with the multitudinous repetitions
which these popular legends underwent, the figure of King
Arthur kept pace with the increasingly ambitious prophecies
of the seer. This was accomplished in the main by enrich-
ing him with every noble trait which could be borrowed from
the story of any great chief. Around the main personage,
too, began, by degrees, to revolve other ideal types, until
finally was founded the harmonious hierarchy of King
Arthur and his Knights, which became by its very nature a
fountain head of romantic literature.

The character of Arthur may, therefore, be treated as a
threefold creation, or, in other words, we realize that in the
upbuilding of this marvelous personality materials were
drawn from three distinct sources.

First, there was the historical Arthur, a great chieftain
who held a conspicuous place in the written and unwritten
annals of the early Welsh; second, many mythical traits
were joined to the already noble character of the hero by his
association with the ancients of his race ; third, after passing-
through the changing fortunes of seven centuries, the final
Arthur emerged — a romantic personality, brilliant and
unique as he was supreme. It is certainly very interesting
to learn how this development came about.

Arthur's name does not occur in any historical document,
which we have any knowledge of, before the "Historia
Britonum" of Nennius about 826. This history Nennius
based on the old Celtic tales which were at that time current
in Britain. He tells us that after the time of Ambrosius

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 151

Arthur fought against the invading Saxons in twelve battles,
the last of which was the famous Mt. Badon. The position
the historical Arthur occupied is clearly defined in these
words in the "Historia" : "Pugnabat cum regibus Britonum
sed ipse dux erat bellorum." Arthur was the "dux bellorum"
of the Britons, a recognized title which existed before and
even after the withdrawal of the Romans. After this event,
during the fifth century, hard pressed by the Saxon invaders,
the Britons won a series of battles, crowned by the glorious
victory of Mt. Badon. Here Arthur was slain. In the
reverses which followed in the later sixth century the hero-
worshipping Bretons reverenced even more than ever the
brave leader who had previously brought them success. It is
safe to say that Arthur now becomes a name to conjure with,
an all-powerful magnet by which are caught and held what-
ever materials of legend, myth, and saga, not irrevocably
connected with some other hero. He is eagerly crowned with
the laurels of grateful memory and long-forgotten deities are
stripped of their possessions to increase his glory.

These Celtic stories were transmitted to the French by
the Amorican Bretons, who migrated from South Wales and
Cornwall in the fifth and sixth centuries. These growing
traditions then entered upon an era of altered development.
They found great popularity in France with all classes, and
soon came to be preferred, even to the songs of the trouveres.
Many centuries after this the "History" of Geoffrey (a more
detailed account of which follows in this paper) was trans-
lated by Wace into old French, and this far more poetical
form of Arthur completely routed the Charlemagne Cycle,
which, with its pervading feeling of feudal ties, had ceased
to find an echo in the hearts and life of the people.

But meanwhile we must not suppose that the insular Celts
had forgotten the ancient traditions of their race. In Eng-

152 THE SWEET BRIAR 3IAGAZINE

land as in France the Arthurian lays were sung by bards
and minstrels. The conquerors, who showed an amazing
readiness to identify themselves with the history and fortunes
of their new land, were charmed with the imaginative beauty
of the poems. Thus after the conquest the tales were widely
disseminated so that they became familiar to every one.
They now only awaited some impulse to be extensively
written down.

Before the appearance of romance the old French narra-
tive lays are certainly the most pleasing form in which these
stories are preserved to us. With these lays is inevitably
associated the name of Marie de France, who, though a
French woman, spent the greater part of her life in England.
There having become familiar with the tales which were
then current of "the old courteous Bretons," through the
agency of the minstrels, she was inspired by their beauty
and soon turned them into graceful verse.

Following Marie de France the next contributor which we
find to the upbuilding of the Arthur cycle was made by
Crestien de Troyes. He was a Frenchman who character-
istically turned the simple Breton lays into elaborate, courtly
poems.

The most significant thing to be noted in connection with
these poems is the fact that they appear to have offered a
natural rallying ground for the Knights of the Round Table
about King Arthur. Perhaps as many as a score of heroes,
who had hitherto enjoyed an entirely independent existence,
are now forced to enlist in the service of the great king. As
Mr. Scofield says, "The time for individual knights was past
when Arthur once mustered his forces." As if by a great
magnet they were irresistibly attracted to him by the sheer
grandeur of his name. By virtue of this, too, perhaps by
reflected glory, their characters and their valorous deeds

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 153

assumed an ever greater nobility when associated with this
illustrious monarch.

The poems of Crestien are quite as worthy of note for yet
another reason. The old poems which he found ready at hand
Crestien embellished with really tender sentiments and won-
derful descriptions. And the refined and chivalrous tone
which the tales assume after his time convince us that this,
too, is due to his recasting. But, though the tales did gain
in the several ways mentioned, we cannot help but feel that
they have lost somewhat in their depth of thought in propor-
tion as they have varied from the Celtic model. In the
French revarnishing of the tale of Tristrim, for instance,
the beauty of the original legend was in great measure con-
cealed. In the Celtic tales the philtre is drunk by Tristan to
gain all knowledge, and the result which ensues, his madness
and despair, is the madness and despair of a mortal fatally
endowed with the universal insight of a god. In the French
redaction we find the philtre degenerated into a mere vulgar
love draught. It is the same thing with Merlin — whereas
in the Celtic texts he is pictured as mad with grief at behold-
ing the sorrows of a fratricidal war and in consequence gifted
with the powers of seer and magician over all nature, in the
French romances his frenzy and powers of magic have no
worthier cause than his love for Vivian.

There were many imitators of Crestien in France and
Germany. First appeared the charming poem Le Bel
Inconnu, written by the Knight Renard de Beaujou; later
the splendid translations of Erec and Ivan by Hartmann
von Aue, and finally the great poem Parzival, closely allied
to the Conte del Grael, written by Wolfram von Eschenbach.

A still later development of these older tales we find in the
metrical and prose romances, which formed so large a part
of the current literature of the time.

154 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

These romances, .so-called, were a sort of potpourri of
popular tales, a collection of adventures of the various
Knights of Arthur, joined loosely together. Viewed to-day,
as a whole, they are monotonous and utterly lacking in unity.
At that day, however, the case was entirely different. They
were not taken as a whole — they were not originally designed
for that — but they were read piecemeal, perhaps only one or
two episodes at a time. These were heard with breathless
interest by those who gathered in the great hall of the castle
to hear them read by one skilled in the art.

In the various tales each particular knight assumes the role
that best suits his individual character. Tales of certain
ones, too, become more numerous as the character grows in
popularity. In France Percival and Gawain enjoyed the
greatest popularity, while in England the chosen knights
were Lancelot and Tristrim.

Meanwhile King Arthur, though his character is in no
way allowed to degenerate from its former nobility, assumes
more the role of an onlooker than an active participant in
the exploits of his Kound Table. At the head of his knights
he lives out the length of his days, fated ever to be youthful
and courageous, happy in their brave deeds, till, with the pas-
sage of years, the noble order perishes, and King Arthur is
borne mysteriously to the realm of the Otherworld.

It is difficult to truly estimate the real value of these early
Breton romances, for it is certainly true that they possess a
charm all their own. Looking at them from the standpoint
of our own time we realize that that is due, not to the form
in which they were cast, but to the very spirit which they
embody. Even the practical minds of modern times are
entranced by their unreality, held enthralled by their ethereal
beauty, and beguiled by their innate spirit of unearthliness.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 155

As did those of olden times our natures respond to the charm
of mystery implied in

"The forest and the enchantments drear
Where more is meant than meets the ear."
To us as to those people of olden days the lande eventurense
is irresistible in its appeal.

And for pleasures such as these, we are forced to acknowl-
edge, the "matter of Britain" is unsurpassed. It is a veri-
table treasure horde, in which the most wonderful possession
of all is Arthurian romance.

But the Arthur tales, so far as they have been traced in
this brief history, have not yet been cast into the mold from
which they emerge in their most enduring form. This great
and lasting work was reserved for one of the most flagrant
and brilliant of literary impositors which it has yet been the
fortune of England to produce — good or bad as the case may
appear.

This man was Geoffrey of Monmouth, the writer of the
Historia Begum Britannice, the most permanent literary
production of that age. Geoffrey, it is claimed, was of Welsh
descent, and thus perhaps we may account psychologically
for his keenly developed powers of imagination. Swift of
wit, he perceived the need of his time and straightway sought
to supply that need.

He conceived the daring scheme, which required a master
mind even to plan, of writing a comprehensive history of his
nation, which should exalt to heaven the prowess of his down-
trodden but ambitious race. He perceived that this would
delight the Normans, whose interest was so closely bound up
in the country which they had adopted as their own, and that
it would also make its appeal to the pride of the native Eng-
lish themselves.

156 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Therefore, taking as sources the Historia Britonum, by
Nennius, the Breton lays current in his day, and many tales
of the classics, he wove them all into the fabric of a marvelous
history. As a literal translation of some ancient and long-
lost document he exhibited this imaginary history to the
gullible public. There can be no doubt as to the fact that
the thing was well done, and the very boldness of the im-
posture challenged success.

Although Geoffrey was denounced by some few con-
temporary scholars as a flagrant overrider of the truth, his
work was universally enjoyed by '.Normans and English,
because it pictured the traditions of the land as they wished
them to be.

This was sufficient — it became popular everywhere, and
was even translated into a number of different languages.
For hundreds of years the work had a great influence on litera-
ture and life. The Latin Historia was almost immediately
translated into French by Wace and Gaimer, which trans-
lation furnished the basis for the work of Layamon, who in
his Brut (C. 1200) gives us the first poetic history of the
Arthur legends in the vernacular, which is certainly a most
important literary possession. It is this work which in turn
furnished the basis for the work of Mallory in the fifteenth
century, which is generally considered the source of
Arthurian romance.

This man of inventive genius, Geoffrey, left no fact lack-
ing in the fabric which he wove so subtly. The scope of the
work he made to embrace the period extending from the
time of the landing of the Trojan Brutus on the shores of
Albion through the Saxon invasion and the reign of the
illustrious King Arthur, to whose character he probably
contributed more than had any single writer. Thus it is that

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 157

the rendering of the Arthur legend into an even more en-
during form than it had before been cast is perhaps Geoffrey's
most important service. If Geoffrey had not written his
history the stories which are associated with the name of
Lear, of Cymbeline, of Gorboduc, of Lucrine, and a multi-
tude of others, would never have been preserved to us.
Probably few of the legends of Arthur would have been
familiar to English ears, and Merlin and Arthur would have
been far less names to conjure with.

Here, as everywhere the legends are treated, the charm of
romance, the fascination of the infused spirit of fairy tradi-
tion, which breathes through them, is as enchanting to-day
as it has ever been. In one of the Canterbury Tales — I
think in that of the wife of Bathe — Chaucer tells us that
in Arthur's time England was "fulfilled of fayerye," but I
cannot but think that it was no less true of his own age, and
just as much so of our own. The legends which deal with
these early times are "stimulated and aided by the concep-
tions living among the people." There as nowhere else they
are vitalized by sympathetic belief. This will always be true
as long as Celtic blood flows in English veins.

Search where we will among the store of national folk
lore, and I think nothing will be found to match Arthurian
romance. Nowhere can there be found anything which makes
so strong an appeal to our imagination. As some writer has
justly said, "It is the glory of the Celtic race that originated
it, the French that gave it shape, and the English that adopted
it as their own."

Louise M. Hooper, '10.

158

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Lotoe

LOVE, how strong thou wert in that bold breast
Which to the Stygian shore and Pluto's realm
With plaintive lyre, unarmed, didst dare make

quest
Of her whom Proserpine and Tartarus held !
So great thou wert that Sisyphus let fall
His load, and Tantalus his thirst o'ercame
To hear the strains of Orpheus and thy call,
O Love. The Furies, too, their wet eyes dried.
That Queen her opiate poppy ceased to press,
While from her dusky brow eternal gloom
Was shed, and e'en that King to thy distress
Unmoved could not remain when from the throng
Of spirits pale and wan, Eurydice sped
To seek her Orpheus and his well-known song.
O Love, unthinking Love, couldst thou have thought
Of all the woe and pain in those two breasts
Which by a heedless look alone was wrought,
Wouldst thou have held in thy relentless hold
The will which dared for thee a task so bold ?

L. K.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 159

I&ofcert derrick— a ^tuDp of ^10 Poetrp

ITH Herrick we enter upon a new phase of
poetry, one almost unique, differing alike
from the poetry of both preceding and sub-
sequent ages. He stands, as it were,
between the school of Spenser and the
Cavalier poets, yet equally aloof from both,
with a spirit and style removed even from that of his professed
model, the poet whom he most admired, "rare Ben Jonson."
The most marked characteristic of Herrick' s verse is, perhaps,
his Latinism. Many before him had written pastorals and
translations, many among his successors have written love
lyrics, but none of the others have caught so completely the
spirit of the Roman muse.

Herrick has been compared to both Martial and Catullus ;
however, it seems difficult, almost impossible, to say that he
resembles one more than another, for in his poetry we find
echoes of all the Latin poets — "stately Vergil, witty Ovid,
soft Catullus, sharp-fang' d Martial," Horace, Juvenal, and
the others. Parts of his poems often read word for word as
the Latin does, yet they do not convey the impression of a
deliberate translation, but rather of unconscious echoes of a
half-forgotten song, the complete reincarnation of the ancient
spirit of poetry.

In the dominating genius of his verse — at least of the
Hesperides or earlier poems — Herrick may be said to most
resemble Catullus. There is the same intense love for the
beautiful, the joy of living and loving, the quick appreciation
of all that is bright and free and youthful. "Vivamus, mea
Lesbia, atque amemus," sang one ; "Let us live, O my Lesbia,
and let us love. . . . Suns may rise and set, but for us,

160 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

when once onr brief light has waned, there is one perpetual
night for sleeping." And across the lapse of years the other
answers :

"While Fates permit us, let's be merry ;
Pass all we must the fatal ferry :
And this our life too whirls away,
With the rotation of the day."
Or again :

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may:
Old time is still a-flying;
And that same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying."

Like Catullus, Herri ck, too, writes many a lyric, many a
love song. He, too, writes a poem lamenting the death of a
beloved sparrow ; he praises his mistress' beauty and expresses
his devotion, in much the same terms as does the Roman;
he, also, idealizes his love in much the same way :

"What I fancy, I approve;
No dislike there is in love."

In spite of all this, however, one cannot but feel that, just
as to Catullus Lesbia meant all that was beautiful in every
sense of the word, so the poems of Herrick are addressed to
an ideal of perfect and abstract beauty rather than to a real
person, and Dianeme, Julia, Perilla, Cinthea, and Perenna
are but names to express this ideal.

In the form of his poetry, Herrick reminds us of Martial,
although he is absolutely free from the caustic wit and harsh,
stinging sarcasm that often characterizes the latter's work.
The poems of both are usually brief and to the point, both
full of a certain flashing kind of wit, skilful cleverness, and
well-turned, often epigrammatic, phrases. In several in-

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 161

stances, there is also pronounced similarity of subject, such
as in the poems "To His Muse," those to his book, and the
one telling when he wishes his verses to be read :

"When the rose reigns, and locks with ointments shine,
Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine"

is an exact repetition of the lines,

"Cum regnat rosa, cum madent capilli,
tunc me vel rigidi legant Catones."
It is interesting to compare his poem on the fly buried in
a bead to Martial's epigram on a viper thus enclosed in amber,
and the poem about Herrick's little maid, Prew, with Mar-
tial's concerning the little slave girl. Moreover, both poets
delight to sing the praises of a rural life, both, in turn, tire
of this, and long for the noise and excitement of the city
once more.

Like Ovid, Herrick loves to give a mythical explanation
of things about him, to express some pretty conceit about the
trees and flowers ; he tells why the wall-flower is so called,
how springs came first, how violets became blue and mari-
golds yellow. Though his poetry as a rule expresses more
active joy than that of the leisurely, pleasure-loving Horace,
still in some of Herrick's drinking songs — for example, the
"Cobbler's Catch," "A Bacchanalian Verse," and the "Ode to
Ben Jonson" — there is an echo of the "nunc est bibendum."
Then again it is as if Juvenal were speaking once more,
through the lips of our own English poet. Both praise the
country life, and the beauty of the old-time simplicity and
frugality coupled with sweet contentment.

" 'Tis not the food, but the content,

That makes the table's merriment."
" 'Tis not the extent

Of land makes life, but sweet content."

162 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

"For seldom use commends the pleasure," forms an exact
parallel to ieV oluptates commendat rarior usus." Another
interesting parallel is given in the statement of the subjects
of which their books treat. And again we may trace a
resemblance to the ancient moralist in the lines,

"Who swims with virtue, he shall still be sure
(Ulysses-like) all tempests to endure."

Besides these, Herrick's description of a stingy host, in "A
Panegyric to Sir Lewis Pemberton," makes an interesting
comparison with portions of Juvenal's Fifth Satire, and his
poem on "The Country Life" with the treatment of the same
subject in the Eleventh Satire, as well as with several of
Martial's epigrams. His scorn of Fortune's might echoes
Juvenal's sentiments upon the vanity of human wishes —
Nullum numen hdbes, si sit prudentia, nos te
Nos facimus, Fortuna, deam caelque locamus,
and

"Nam pro jucundis optissima quaeque dabunt di."

It is, perhaps, to Vergil, the "Wielder of the stateliest
measure ever moulded by the lips of man," that Herrick's
"jocund Muse" bears least resemblance. Yet even these two
have some things in common. Both love the country and
both have the power of dignifying with poetic charm the
commonplaces of every-day life. In "The Country Life," in
"To Phillis," and in the poem to Lady Abdie, there are lines
and descriptions which remind us of the pastorals of Vergil
in his lighter moments ; for example, the following lines :

"So smells the breath about the hives,
When well the work of honey thrives ;
And all the busy factors come,
Laden with wax and honey, home."

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 163

Herrick seems thus to sometimes catch the spirit of the
pastoral better than others who deliberately set out to imitate
it.

Moreover, we frequently meet with Latinism in expres-
sions such as "Love's chorus led by Cupid," in the exclama-
tion " Ai me!" and in single words, such as when he speaks
of the "candor undefil'd" of his book, or uses the word "inter-
talked," or speaks of the "supremest kiss." Allusions to
ancient Roman customs are often made ; he mentions the
"holy-meal and spiriting-salt" used in the funeral rites of
the ancients ; he beseeches Julia :

"Cut off thy hair, and let thy tears be shed
Over my turf, when I am buried.
Then for effusions, let none wanting be,
Or other rites that do belong to me."

Akin to the Latin, too, are his naive expressions of belief
in the certainty of the immortality of his verses. In the
poem to his father he writes :

"Thou gav'st me life (but mortal) ; for that one
Favour, I'll make full satisfaction;
For my life mortal, rise from out thy hearse,
And take a life immortal from my verse."

In the poem to Mistress Elizabeth Herrick, he echoes the
"exegi monumentum cere perennius, in the lines :
"When there's not one
Eemainder left of brass or stone,
Thy living epitaph shall be,
Though lost in them, yet found in me."
Again, addressing himself, he writes :

"Thou shalt not all die ; for while Love's fire shines
Upon his altar, men shall read thy lines."

164 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

From these examples cited, I think we may say that Kobert
Herrick must be compared not to a single one of the Roman
poets, but to all of them — for he knew and loved them all. He
seems to be endowed with the spirit of Latin poetry more than
any other of the earlier English poets, more, perhaps, than
any at all up to the time of Tennyson. Herrick has been
criticised as a "hedonist and a pagan," yet this seems only
partly true. A hedonist? Yes, if a keen joy in life and
his surroundings be hedonistic, and a pagan, also, if an in-
tense love of beauty be an attribute of paganism. There is,
however, a tinge of idealism in Herrick, also; he desires
true beauty of a higher type :

"Let's strive to the best ; the gods, we know it,
Pillars and men, hate an indifferent poet."

"When I love (as some have told
Love I shall when I am old),
O ye Graces ! make me fit
For the welcoming of it."

"He lives, who lives to virtue : men who cast
Their ends for pleasure do not live but last."

Besides, he is an optimist; he believes in the good of the
world that he loves, and he has a certain philosophy of his
own:

"Evil no nature hath ; the loss of good
Is that which gives to sin a livelihood."

So to those who charge him with flippancy and too much
levity, let him but speak for himself, to disprove the charge.

E. W. M., '11.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 165

Cije Vision of ^>atnt ^ntfjonp

HE faintest of andante pianissimo move-
ments had ceased to quiver from the mighty
organ at the far end of the cathedral in
response to the loving touch of Giovanni's
skillful fingers. The daylight was dying
from the great sun-loving Gothic windows,
shadows were beginning to creep about the base of the tower-
ing piers, and the lofty nave roof was lost in shadows, but
still Bartolome stood with troubled eyes gazing upon his
own lovely but unfinished work.

"Was all his labor to be in vain ? Could it be that he
would never finish the picture because his ideal was impos-
sible of realization ?" These questions kept recurring to his
mind with irritating persistency.

Brother Francesco had been in to view his work only the
day before and he had seemed almost mad with disappoint-
ment when he found the great altar piece so near completion
yet with the painter standing idle before it. It had been
to no purpose for Bartolome to protest that he would yet finish
the Vision. Surely in two days' time the picture would be
ready for the celebration of the Saint's day.

But after the irascible old monk had hobbled down the
aisle, thumping his heavy stick upon the pavement as he
went, and throwing back exhortations to work which sounded
suggestively like threats, the young painter leaned wearily
against a pier and gazed dispiritedly up at the noble figure
of Saint Anthony, which stood so majestically before him,
created by his own hand.

The Saint indeed stood there gazing heavenward in holy
ecstasy, a spirit of devout fervor pervading his whole body —

166 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

but seek as he would, — and the painter had searched from the
Guadalqui vir to the Torre del Oro, — he had failed to find a
face in the whole of Seville which he thought capable of
inspiring in the person of the Virgin such noble enthusiasm.

When he had faintly suggested this to the holy brother on
his return to-day in hopes of seeing the picture finished, the
old man had replied inpatiently:

"Tut, tut, Don Murillo, there is no lack of pretty women
in the city of Seville! You have grown over-particular of
your models since you have sojourned for so long a time with
the great Don Velasquez at the capital. I pray you forget
this foolish idea and in one hour I will send you a dozen
girls from whom you may choose the most beautiful to play
the part of our dear Lady in your picture. We are paying
you in good ducats if you finish our picture for the day of
the blessed Saint, which falls on the morrow. There is no
saying, too, what misfortune may betide our monastery — or
it may come to you Senor painter as well — if our patron be
neglected on his own sacred day."

Bartolome had said little in reply except that he cared not
for the great price — it was only the picture for which he
strove.

He stood rapt in thought as the shadows fell deeper on the
tiled floor throughout the whole cathedral, and a certain
dimness pervaded the picturesque vistas through the shadowy
arches. His eyes were fixed on the great silver statue of the
Virgin with her babe seated so majestically upon the Gothic
reredos.

What if he might find a woman with the queenly bearing
of this one, the noble pose of her head, the expression of
heavenly joy on her countenance, the graceful poise of her
whole body — But lo ! the dear Virgin had granted his
prayer. His breath came quickly as he gazed, for at that

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 167

moment he experienced a vision. Near the Puerta del Perdon
he saw such a sight as his eyes had never rested on before—
an angel truly. "Within the bronze doors knelt a woman, her
hands clasped, her whole being uplifted in prayer, appar-
ently oblivious to the presence of anyone else, save herself,
in the whole great cathedral. Her uncovered head was
bowed, her face was almost hidden, but a dim shaft of golden
sunlight, which at that moment broke through the stained
glass window near her, in one last burst of autumn radiance,
was caught and held by a mass of red gold hair.

Bartolome noted as he looked that a curl slipped from
some kind of a great, emerald-studded comb, which gleamed
in the light, and slipped down, on to the long, black cape in
which she was clad.

So overpowered was he by the beauty of this heavenly
vision that he was on the point of falling to his knees in
adoration. But just at that moment his attention was riveted
by a slight movement of a hand with tapering fingers, which
emerged from the recesses of the black cape and quickly
made the sign of the cross upon her breast. Then it was
that the angel's head was lifted, the marvelous eyes opened
and fire seemed to burn from their depths into the very heart
of the painter as he stood in silent, awe-stricken wonder. She
gazed straight at the silver image of the Virgin and Babe
only a few feet away from him, her look was one of reverent
and awe-inspiring devotion, her face transfigured by an
almost heavenly glory. His heart was fairly bursting with
the joy of the glorious sight before him. Now, by the help
of the kind Lady of Grace, his dream was to be realized.
This glorious apparition had come in direct answer to his
prayer.

He seized his brush and had made several impassioned
strokes upon the ready canvas, when, hearing a slight move-

168 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

ment behind him, he turned to find the luminous eyes turned
directly upon himself. The vision had disappeared now and
in its place stood a girl with a rather startled look upon her
beautiful features. She had arisen from her knees, realized
she was no longer alone, and had now turned to leave the
cathedral.

The startled look assumed an almost frightened air when
Murillo's voice sang down from the chancel :

"Do not leave me, my beautiful angel, just when my dream
has come true. One moment more and you shall occupy the
place of our glorious Lady in my picture."

But her quick steps had already carried her almost to the
bronze doors when his pleading tone arrested her flight.
Turning she called back:

"I whom you see, Seignior, am no angel — but only a poor
girl of the Court. The Queen is now at the Castle of Alcazer,
Seignior, and I am but one of her maids."

At these words Bartolome came down the long aisle, and as
he approached her, seeing the quick tears start to her eyes,
said :

"Fear not me, my Senorita, I wish you no harm, but only
that you stay and allow me to see your heavenly smile yet
one short five minutes longer that I may transfer it to my
canvas."

"But, Seignior, I cannot, I will soon be missed at the
palace — and, alas, I must return!"

"Why," questioned Bartolome, "do you not ivish to
return ?"

"Oh, no — no," and the young girl burst into a flood of
tears. "The Queen, usually so kind to poor Dona Beatrix
de Cabrera, is now most unkind !"

"How has she mistreated you, Senorita ? Perhaps, perhaps

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 169

you will alow me to help you," Bartolome was at once all
sympathy.

"Oh, will you, will you ?" she asked eagerly. " Can you
though, can you kill Don Pedro de Moya ?"

The painter winced a little.

"For the Queen has promised that on my eighteenth birth-
day I am to be his bride. And though I do not love him —
to say truth I hate the man — he holds the Queen to her
promise, which was stamped with the royal seal. And now —
my birthday falls on the morrow! How little did I dream
that the joyous Saint's day would mark my doom. O
Seignior painter, what can I do now ? I fear that naught
but death is left me. I cannot marry the man whom I
detest !"

"By no means," said Murillo.

"But what can I do? I escaped from the palace only to
come here to beseech the help of the dear Mother. I thought
perhaps I should be heard better in her own Santa Maria
della Sedia. After I evaded the Lady in Waiting, a perfect
ogre of a woman, I slipped from the women's apartments
down through the patio, then bribed the keeper of the gate,
and was permitted to pass out.

"How daring you were," breathed Murillo, enchanted and
hoping to keep her.

"I had never been on the streets alone before, and your
Seville, so busy a mart, frightened me when I found myself
in the crowds flooding the thoroughfares. But I wandered
until finally I came to the Court of Oranges. There I sat
down a moment to rest by the fountain, then I came in. I
prayed — and I thought for a moment that my prayer had
been heard, for I seemed to see myself rescued by the help
of some noble friend, who should be bold enough to brave the
anger of the Queen. But then — you recalled me, and I

170 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

found myself the same unhappy girl I had been before !
But I must go, poor unfortunate that I am, or I shall soon
be missed from my prison, and that dreadful Don Pedro will
be at hand to seize and drag me back ! What can I do, what
shall I do?" she moaned.

"Naught more than allow me to aid your ladyship," replied
Murillo.

"But how?" she asked eagerly, relief showing in her voice.

"By no other way so well, I think, as by marrying me,
your ladyship."

His very boldness appalled her. She did not even protest.
Her dark eyes filled with tears, her lips quivered, her hands
clasped each other convulsively for a moment, then coming
nearer to Bartolome, she replied:

"But I cannot let you — I will not allow you to sacrifice
yourself for me, for one who is so unworthy. You are noble
— but indeed you must forget your generous speech, for I
cannot accept such self-sacrifice."

She had taken his hands in her earnestness, and stood
looking up into his kind eyes turned so pityingly upon her.
But even as she gazed into their depths she seemed to find
there a deeper emotion than pity. Her hands fell to her
sides, a deep flush suffused her face and she looked quickly
down.

It was Murillo's turn to plead.

"But, Senorita," he replied, "why should you call such
an act a sacrifice ? Far from it — it would indeed be a glorious
privilege — one which would bring me more happiness than
ever I imagined even in my wildest dreams. For Dona
Beatrix, since the moment just past when you knelt there near
the great window, your glorious eyes full of the mystery of
prayer, your face heavenly in its gladness, your hair im-

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 171

prisoning the late sunbeams — I have loved you as never
before man has loved. I hardly dared believe you more
than an angel, so thrilled my heart became at the wondrously
beautiful picture you made. I fancied a vision had been
vouchsafed to me in my need. But now your coming has
saved me — you have indeed played the angel to a despairing
painter. My picture shall soon be completed if you will only
remain and then — we shall go to the house of Fra Bertrand,
a priest and my good friend, who will soon make you my
wife. Then we shall leave Seville, leave the Queen, the Court
and all its horrors far behind. We shall go to Sardao,
where we shall be happy — happy with each other and by the
sea. There as long as you wish it we shall remain, and I shall
paint you with the sea light in your eyes and those wondrous
waves of gold blowing in the sea wind, and your sweet lips
parted just as I see them now in happy surprise. What say
you to my plan, my loved one ? Will you not trust me to
take you away from these cruel people, to make you happy
once more V

He paused a second in the very earnestness of his pleading.

"Why do you fear, Don Murillo, I would go to the end
of all lands with you ? I, who a moment ago believed I
hated all men, because one was so cruel — now have begun
to think that at least there is one, whom I cannot hate —
because of his kind and noble heart."

As night fell in the Moorish Court of Oranges a belated
beggar, seated by the quaint old gate, saw two figures emerge
into the darkness from the portal of the cathedral.

One he saw to be a woman, a great cape wrapped about
her, the hood drawn over her hair ; the other he recognized
as they approached — a stalwart figure, tall and broad

172 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

shouldered, who assisted the woman to descend the long flight
of steps with a marked gentleness and deference of bearing.

"Don Murillo, by Our Lady," he muttered. "Never before
have I seen him in the company of a woman. What has
come over the man !"

But as they hurried down the court, stopping only long
enough to toss the largest coin in Murillo's purse into his
box, their happy faces left in the mind of the beggar no
further room for conjecture.

On the morrow, in the early morning of Saint Anthony's
Day, the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Sedia was thronged
to overflowing. For the people had come to see unveiled the
Vision of Saint Anthony, which all the city knew the great
painter, Don Murillo, had done in honor of the Saint.

When the curtain before the altar piece had been drawn
back, revealing to their gaze the picture, the deep silence of
the cathedral was only broken here and there by low ex-
clamations of delight, of wonder, of awe. Before them in
the picture stood indeed the noble figure of their own Saint —
but this was not the whole. Above him and gazing down
upon him with marvelously luminous, wondrously loving
eyes, was seen the beautiful face of the Virgin. She was
clad in a black mantle, which would have lent to the picture
a sombre tone, had it not been that, seemingly a moment
before, a mass of coppery golden hair had fallen about the
shoulders, which gave a certain radiance to her whole face
and figure.

All fell to their knees in spontaneous and silent adoration,
for all realized that in this vision the Virgin had indeed been
reincarnated in the person of a real woman — the earthly and
the heavenly at last had met.

Louise M. Hooper, '10.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

173

C&e mooO*I&oaD

HE wood-road calls and beckons,

With alluring, whispered plea:
"Come, follow up my windings,

And ever happy be !
For just around the turning

Of the woodland road, there lies
The happy land of pure delight,
With smiling, summer skies."

So a short road or long road,
The right road or wrong road,

'Tis ever a wood-road for me!
A bright road or gray road,
A sad road or gay road,

'Tis a wood-road that leads to thee.

Adown the dim and dreamy aisles

The fairy spirits flit ;
While round about all nature smiles

Till the glow-worm's lamps are lit,
And somewhere on its winding ways

The road leads past that place
Where dwell the ghosts of all the

Which have most happy been.

So a short road or long road,
The right road or wrong road,
'Tis ever a wood-road for me !

174 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

A bright road or gray road,
A sad road or gay road,

'Tis a wood-road that leads to thee.

Dream-flowers bloom beside the road,

To guide the wanderer's feet —
Wind-flowers, and heart's-ease, and eglantine,

And laurels with perfume sweet.
The South Wind, with murmur caressing,

Now whispers and calls to you ;
And I know we'll find, at the wood-road's end,

The country where dreams come true.

So a short road or long road,
The right road or wrong road,

'Tis ever a wood-road for me !
A bright road or gray road,
A ,sad road or gay road,

'Tis a wood-road, Love, leads to thee.

M.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

175

e&ay Dap

AY DAY ! What is there associated with
this day, the very name of which seems to
conjure up so many thoughts of joy, beauty,
and gladness ? Is it that we have read how
the Romans during the last days of April
and the first of May held their joyful
festival, the Floralia, in honor of Flora, beautiful goddess of
flowers and fruits ? Or is it because we know how in Eng-
land even before the sixteenth century all the people, both
young and old, from village and country, laid aside their
work, and donning their holiday clothes gave themselves up to
a day of festivities and merrymaking? How on the night
before, just after the midnight hour, youths and maidens arose
to go accompanied by music and the blowing of horns into
some neighboring wood, where they adorned themselves with
nosegays and garlands of hawthorne, with which, as the sun
began to rise, they hastened home to decorate the doors and
windows of their simple houses. How in the latter part of
the day they gathered on the village green to dance around
the gaily decked May pole which unmolested had stood all
year as though consecrated to the goddess of flowers. How
one of the number who was chosen Lord of the May, usually
impersonating Robin Hood, in "scarfs, ribbands, and other
fineries" sat beside Maid Marion, the Lady of the May, and
presided over the games, the wrestling matches and archery
contests in which his "merrie men" clad in suits of lincoln

176 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

green participated; while the maidens with their fantastic
dresses adorned with bells, danced the Morris dances. And
how in later years when this beautiful fete had fallen into
disuse, and such beauty-loving people as the Squire of Brace-
bridge Hall encouraged in the country folk a love for this old
custom, they crowned a rosy-cheeked girl of the village, and
danced and sported as in days gone by. Is it, then, because
we have heard and read of these other May Days that such
thoughts within us rise ? Or is it because on May Day all
nature seems to be exultant that she has burst the bonds of
winter and has begun a reign of flowers and sunshine %

Whether we associate May Day with the ancient Koman
festival of flowers, or with the English May pole dance and
pageants, or with the spirit of gladness which all nature
seems to express, we cannot but feel that it is a day not only
to be observed because of its beautiful ancestry, but to be
enjoyed because it is May Day.

At Sweet Briar we have always regarded this day as one
of the most important in our calendar. It was on May Day
of the first year that that small line of girls clad in white
wound their way across the campus, in and out among the
dark green firs and spruces, and around the corner of the old
two-towered mansion, into the box-wood circle, singing as they
marched,

"Sweet Briar, Sweet Briar, the flower fair,
The rose that on your crest you wear
Shall never fade, but always bear
Thy beauty, O Sweet Briar."

And then standing around a throne of flowers they waved
aloft branches of white dog-wood while they sang a spring

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 177

song to Queen Anne, who walked majestically toward her
throne. Her loyal subjects then crowned and garlanded her
with flowers and presented to her a scepter, not of gold and
precious stones, but of daisies. With such a scepter no queen
could rule harshly, so bidding her loyal subjects be merry,
she showed them the May pole, which stood gaily decked in
streamers of rose and green in the center of the box-wood
circle. And the subjects of no other monarch have been so
happy as were the subjects of that May queen as they wound
the May pole to the little song:

"Gaily now we twine the May pole
With our colors rose and green.
Singing merrily to springtime,

To fair springtime and our queen."

When twelve long months had brought around a second
month of flowers, another queen sat on the throne — Queen
Mary was her name. Far more numerous were her subjects,
too, though no less obedient to her commands. At one gentle
nod of her pretty head they sped away to do her bidding, and
to be glad. First, they danced around the May pole, and then
disappearing as if by magic behind the box-wood bushes,
they reappeared, skipping and singing in the quaint old folk
dance, "Ace of Diamonds." No sooner had this ceased than
the minuet with its stately measures began. The queen
herself could not resist this, so laying aside her scepter and
stepping from her throne she danced with majestic mien this
most graceful dance.

Queen Josephine succeeded Mary, and again there was
no lack of mirth within the borders of her realm. Even the
bold Eobin Hood and his lawless merrie men came to play

178 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

before her beneath the green wood, and when another May
Day found her again upon the throne, the seasons them-
selves did her homage. The old Inviemo, god of Winter,
leaning upon his staff, his white beard flowing ; Kawasha, god
of Tobacco, with his Morris dancers ; the red god of Wine,
and Silenus' riding upon an ass with his silly followers — all
honored her until the graceful Primavera, goddess of Spring,
dispersed them and conducted her flower subjects, the roses,
jonquils, crocuses, and morning glory into her presence.
There they danced their light, fantastic dances, and, placing
their garlands at her feet, flitted again into the wood from
whence they came.

So, thus, have we always celebrated May Day at Sweet
Briar — a day which carries with it so many beautiful asso-
ciations, and which at the same time makes us feel, as all
nature seems to feel, that we must go a-Maying.

V.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 179

Men In Home

VIRGINIA, you have no idea how perfect
it is to get back to a big city, where all is
life and gaiety and society! I think I
should have had nervous prostration if I
had been obliged to stay in that hopelessly
slow country school much longer."
"Why, how you do talk, Clarissa ! You seem to forget
that the same beautiful Southern country you are speaking
of is my home. Let me see, haven't I heard that adjective
'slow' used in connection with your own gay city? I may
be mistaken, but I believe I have !"

"Most likely you have, if such bromides ever reach your
rest-cure of a town ! But nevertheless, it only applies to our
Rapid Transit Company, and you just wait! You'll soon
be so tired out with gaiety that you'll wish it were only a
little slower ! Here we are at the house, and this is the City
of Brotherly Love, so let's put aside our fiery loyalty to our
native place, and be happy.

"Mother, this is my college chum and roommate, Virginia
Lee, and I'm ,so glad you're going to know each other."

"I'm extremely pleased to meet you, Miss Lee. I've heard
Clarissa speak of you so much. Clarissa, dear, take your
friend upstairs, and show her into the blue room ; and you'll
have to hurry and dress, for Mr. Eager is coming at eleven
to take you both out in his machine. I'm going to chaperon
you. It's ,so lovely to have you back again, but I don't see
much chance of visiting, these holidays, there's so much
going on."

180 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

As soon as the girls were alone, and poor Virginia could
gain her breath, she demanded anxiously:

"Clarissa, you don't mean to say that we have to have a
chaperon to go riding with us ! I never heard of such non-
,sense. Why — but — oh, I'm awfully glad your mother's
coming!" ("What agony!" she sighed to herself.)

Before long, they were fairly flying through the streets of
the "Ked City" — Mr. Eager and Virginia in front, and
Clarissa and her mother behind. Virginia, full of fun and
spirits, soon had her captivated companion in a very loqua-
cious mood, and if it had not been for Mrs. Miller's occa-
sional interruptions on the subject of the higher education,
the ride would have seemed a very reasonably sensible one.

"May I come to call, Miss Lee, before I go?" asked Mr.
Eager, as he helped his attractive new acquaintance out of
the car. Before the poor girl had time to reply, Mrs. Miller
spoke up most cordially :

"Indeed, we should be delighted to see you, Mr. Eager.
How about this afternoon ? It's the only time the girls have
free."

"Thank you, you may certainly expect me then."

"What," thought Virginia, mystified, "can that 'we' mean !
I wonder whether every poor innocent pair of trousers that
enters the house has to be chaperoned, too ! Surely that can't
be!"

The afternoon came, and also the expected visitor. They
had hardly sat down when who should come rustling in but
the aforesaid Mrs. Miller, all smiles and eagerness ! Vir-
ginia's face fell. More agony ! She simply must find some
means of escape. Finally she ventured:

"O Clarissa, I completely forgot about getting my gloves
for the dance to-night ! I'll just have to tear myself away

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 181

for a few minutes, because the stores close in fifteen minutes.
Perhaps you and Mr. Eager would walk along with me, and
then I shouldn't miss any of this nice visit. How about it ?"

"Oh, my dear, what are you thinking of! Of course I
sha'n't allow you three to go unchaperoned down Chestnut
Street at five o'clock in the afternoon. Wait a minute, and
I'll get on my hat."

This was too much for Virginia. ISTot allowed to go around
the corner in broad daylight with two friends, and all of
them fully able to cross a street alone. Oh, how tiresome !
In endeavor to hide her feelings, she hurried out of the room,
and flung herself down on the couch in the library, where the
little French poodle was her only companion. She grabbed
him about the neck, and held him close, so that he shook
violently with every convulsive sob that she uttered. "Those
miserable chaperons, oh, oh, oh ! Foxy, aren't they perfectly
—well, I can't think of anything bad enough. Come, don't
you think so, Foxy? Haven't you found them so?" she
stammered, impatiently stamping her foot. Then on receiv-
ing no response, she flung the little animal from her in a
rage. "I haven't had one blessed chance at my beau yet !"

Mrs. Miller's step on the staircase reminded her that she
must be going, so hastily brushing away her tears and trying
to hide the pout, she ran to join the others. Oh, it was a
delightful walk ! Seldom had she been so thrilled ! Her dis-
cussions with Mrs. Miller were so perfectly heavenly !

In the evening, everything was hurry and bustle in
preparation for the dance.

"But why do you start to dress so early ?" asked Virginia,
quite surprised to find her chum beginning to get ready at
half past seven! "It doesn't take you two hours, does it?"

182 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

"No, dear, but the dance begins at eight, and you'd better
be starting now, too."

"At eight! Why, Clarissa, I should think you'd be dead
by three o'clock to-morrow morning!"

"Dead ! Why ? I expect to be in bed then. What do you
mean ?"

"Oh, I thought that was the time dances are usually over."

"Virginia, what can you be used to! We'll be back at
midnight at the latest, so you needn't worry."

"What queer hours ! But tell me who's coming after us.
Tell me about my partner ; I'm so excited !"

"Oh, that's so, you know all that beforehand where you
live, don't you. Well, up here, it's all a surprise. We don't
know who our partner is to be. Mother usually chaperons
us, and we get our programs filled out after we get there — if
we are fortunate !"

"Of course, Clarissa. I don't know what made me forget
the chaperon ! It's all going to be so new and different, I'm
getting quite excited."

At ten minutes to eight, a gorgeous spray of sweetpeas was
handed to Clarissa from her partner, who had bespoken her
the fortnight before.

"What do you call that ?" asked Virginia, mystified. "A
spray ? Well, I never saw quite such a queer effect before !
It looks more suited for a funeral than a dance. We never
think of such things. If we want a bouquet, we stick one in
our belts and go along. One lives to learn, I see!"

They hurried into the carriage— they, of course, being
Virginia, Clarissa and Mrs. Miller. Crowds were going to
the same hall for which they were bound, and many were the
styles and colors of the costumes that surged on the grand
staircase leading to the ballroom. In the ladies' dressing

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 183

room, tired-looking maids hurried back and forth from one
society belle to another, unfastening evening coats, taking off
rubbers, putting on slippers.

"Poor things," whispered Virginia to her companion. "I
should think they would drop. I'm going to wait on myself.
I only wish I could think of something to cheer their poor
hearts !"

"O Virginia, how silly ! They're used to it now, and prob-
ably couldn't do without it. You do have some of the most
farfetched ideas."

When Clarissa had arranged her hair, with a view to
making it stay on a little longer than usual, they started in
for the real amusement of the evening.

"Now, Virginia, dear, just keep behind me, and I'll intro-
duce you to the receiving line." Ah, this was yet another
"rapture unforeseen" ! Each person in the line required a
courtesy — but it was all beginning to be a grand joke to
Virginia now! She invariably trod on the toes of each suc-
cessive victim to that conventionality. However, they finally
won their entrance to the arena, and lo ! what should greet
their eyes but something with the effect of the sheep on one
hand and the goats on the other — one line of trousers and
another of skirts ! Ah, here comes Clarissa's partner for the
German, and after much introducing, Virginia secures one
too. But then, the German is not all ! The miserable hours
are the dances beforehand, when everyone is free to take
different partners. Clarissa has done her best in introducing
people, but they are all busy with their own friends, and have
no time for the stranger, attractive as she is. She shifts from
one foot to the other, in awkward boredom. Oh, if the floor
would only open considerately, and let her through! But
then, this was pleasure, she kept reminding herself. Finally

184 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

she dropped into a seat, for the wall looked weak and lonely
(Virginia always was thoughtful of others), and after what
seemed months of longing for her downy bed, the bugle call
announced the beginning of the German. At last her partner
appeared and never had she hailed one so gratefully before !

She was just beginning to feel at ease after this first dance,
when her partner led her back to her seat, bowed curtly, and
muttered, "Thank you," as he dashed off for a "break."

"This beats all," she laughed to herself. "At home, such
kind attentions as these little kow-tows would frighten a
poor girl. Indeed, ,she was more often than not, hurled into
her seat at the end of a dance."

Wait a minute! What makes her stare, and then start so
frantically %

"Not Dick!" she gasped. But, yes, Dick was standing
opposite her, and without thinking twice she dashed across
the room, grabbed him by the coat tail, and they were indeed
an amazed and relieved couple !

"Virginia Lee ! Where have you come from ? I'm so glad
to see you ! I'm so bored with this whole performance that
I feel like skipping. Come out in the moonlight, and let's
talk Norfolk!"

Henrietta Washburn.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 185

l&emtmscences of a poet

jHE Martin piazza was just the place for
summer reveries. There I sat having the
nicest kind of day dreams, when suddenly
the drowsy summer stillness was broken by
a series of screams which called me rudely
from my meditations. Thinking nothing
but that some dreadful accident had happened to one of the
numerous Martin youngsters, I rushed hurriedly in the
direction of the backyard from whence the howls came. The
sight that greeted me there would have caused a less sym-
pathetic person than I to double up with laughter.

For under an apple tree sat my landlady, and upon her
broad expanse of lap was a wildly tossing whirlwind of arms
and legs. Upon this squirming heap Mrs. Martin's strong
hands were rhythmically thumping, while at each recurring
thump a scream of anguish came from the writhing little
piece of humanity.

"Why, Mrs. Martin, what has Jane done ?" cried I im-
pulsively.

"Done! look at that!" said Mrs. Martin in excited tones
as she dramatically pointed at the ground with one hand,
while with the other she continued her tattoo of whacks on
poor, weeping Jane.

Following her guiding finger my gaze was attracted to the
ground, which was white with sheets of paper.

"But what's the matter with that?" said I in bewilder-
ment that such a seemingly mild offense should call forth
such drastic punishment.

186 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

"Poetry!" said my landlady tragically.

Seeing my puzzled expression, she allowed poor Jane to
slide from her lap, whereat the small poet lost no time in
making good her escape. Mrs. Martin rose with a sigh.

"Everyone has their battles — and mine is to cure Jane of
this poetry idea. The Lord only knows what times I have.
I hate to spank as much as any mother, but poetry calls for
strong measures. What's a body to do when she sees her
child developing bad habits ?"

"Most mothers would be proud to think their children
aspired to being poets," said I.

"Law! It's plainly to be seen that you were never the
wife of a poet."

As I did not deny this charge, Mrs. Martin went on, her
portly figure swelling with pride in spite of her tragic accents
as she said, "Yes, my husband was a poet. They say he first
showed signs of it when he was real young. His parents
named him Peter, but when he was six years old he insisted
on being called Adonis. His parents was somewhat s'prised,
but Adonis always had a way of getting what he wanted.

"Think of it ! At six years old he was readin' the most
learned things and there's where he took that name Adonis
from. His folks lived next door to us and we always played
together when we was little. He used to write the most
beautiful poems to me ! Oh, they was lovely ! The other
girls used to laugh at him 'cause his hair was so long and
curly. But I always thought him handsome — his eyes was
so beautiful ! And he used to call me his Aphrodite and
Venus and Hebe and all kinds of beautiful names the other
boys didn't know anything about.

"I was real pretty in those days," here Mrs. Martin sighed,
"and I had plenty of beaux, but I turned them all down for

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 187

Adonis. But finally all the other girls was married and
Adonis hadn't jet popped the question. And his pa and ma
had died and he was livin' by himself and such a sight as he
did look! Sometimes I had to send him home to put on a
decent suit, for the holes in his clothes was enough to make
one blush. Poor soul, there was nobody to patch for him !

"One day I says to him, 'Adonis, you need a wife to take
care of you.'

"He opened his big eyes wide, 'If I should marry, my
Venus, I'd be estranged from you.'

"My heart gave a big flop, but I picked up courage and
blurted out, 'But why can't you marry me V Then I hid
my face, I was that ashamed of myself.

" 'Who would I write poems to then ?' says Adonis.

" 'Why to me just the same,' says I.

" 'But poets never write poems to their wives. That
wouldn't be romantic. I can't lose an inspiration just to have
a wife. Wouldn't you rather be an Inspiration than a wife ?
Any girl can be a wife, but not every girl has the chance to
be a poet's Inspiration. Think ! you will be put with Beatrice
and Laura!' says he.

"I didn't know who those ladies was, nor I didn't care
either. I says, 'I don't want to be with Beatrice and Laura, I
want to be with you.' Then I gathered all my spunk, 'If you
don't want to marry me, I'll marry Rube Barnes and then
yon won't have me for either an Inspiration or a wife.'

"This seemed to set him thinkin'. Besides, I was crying
and Adonis always had the softest heart. 'Dry your eyes,
my Grace,' says he, 'it may be that such a poet as I can rise
above the common etiquette of poets and make even my wife
famous.' And with that he kissed me and I was so happy.

"Well, time went on, and like a modest, well-behaved girlr

188 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

I waited for Adonis to set the day for the weddin', thinkin'
I had gone far enough in doin' the proposin'. But Adonis
didn't set it. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for a week, and
I'd be just ready to throw him over, when he'd appear with
a poem 'To His Beautiful Betrothed.' That was the name he
called me. And he would look at me with such a meltin'
look that I'd think I'd rather wait ten years for him to set
the day than marry anyone else.

"But one day I thought there was getting to be a limit
even to maidenly modesty, so I says, 'What month is the most
poetic for marriage ?'

"June,' says he, 'the first days of June when spring and
summer wed each other — that is the time for the poet's
nuptials.' Nuptials is what he said. I s'pose it means
weddin'. Adonis was always great on fancy words.

"The day we fixed on came and I was at the church on
time. I was a little worried, because I thought Adonis would
come in that unpatched state of his, but imagine my horror
when I found he wasn't there at all. We waited and waited
and still no Adonis. And the bridesmaids began to giggle
and the ushers — some of them was old beaux of mine — looked
tickled, no doubt thinkin' I was repentin' of my bargain, and
wishin' I'd taken one of them.

"Finally I was near crazy, and when the rest of the party
wasn't lookin' I slipped out and ran down the street to
Adonis' house. I rushed all over that house, but Adonis
wa'n't to be .seen, till somethin' told me to climb to the attic.
And sure 'miff there he was. Imagine how mad I was at
seein' him stretched out on the floor, runnin' his fingers
through his curls, and chewin' his pencil. I could have
pulled out those lovely curls in that minute to think he was

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 189

lyin' there calmly on his weddin' mornin', makin' me the
laughin' stock of the town.

" 'Adonis !' I screamed.

"He glanced up in that dreamy way he had, 'Hush !' says
he, 'you will drive away my Muse !'

"With that my heart like to burst. On the very day he
was to marry me, to think he should be talkin' of his Muse,
whoever she might be. I knew Adonis was absent-minded,
but I hadn't thought he'd go back on me for another girl.

" 'Show Miss Muse to me and I'll kill her,' I cried.

" 'Poor, excited girl,' says Adonis, 'there ain't no Miss
Muse. You don't understand. My Muse is what inspires
my poetry.'

' 'I thought I was your inspiration,' says I, almost wild
with jealousy of this Muse thing.

" 'So you are,' says he, 'you inspire my Muse and my Muse
inspires me, but you are not a poet, so you can't understand.
That is a poet's misfortune — to be never understood even by
those he loves.'

" 'I certainly can't understand why a poet even should lie
on his garret floor and moon on his weddin' mornin'," says I.

" 'I was makin' you immortal,' says he, 'this is your
Prothalamion I was writin'.' I think Prothalamion was the
word he used. It was somethin' outlandish. Anyway he
says, 'All poets write Prothalamions before they're married.
It wouldn't be a poet's weddin' without a Prothalamion.'

" 'Well, it won't be any weddin' at all unless you hop right
up off that floor and come with me. You can write your
Pro-thing afterwards,' says I, real spunky-like.

" 'It will be too late,' says he, 'you are losing the chance
to be immortal.'

190 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

" 'You are losing the chance to be a husband,' I called at
him as I flounced down the stairs. But in a minute he came
after me beggin' to be forgiven, and lookin' so handsome that
I forgave all his poeticness.

"When we got to the church the people was all gone, and
I like to cried, 'cause I had pictured to myself how jealous
the other girls would be when they saw how handsome Adonis
looked marchin' up the aisle. But we had to be married at
the minister's house without any audience at all. And
Adonis had forgot the ring too. He said he had used it as a
paperweight to keep his poems from blowin' away.

"I thought I was perfectly happy now I was Mrs. Adonis
Martin, but my troubles was only begun. Adonis didn't
know how to do anythin' but write poetry. And the papers
didn't appreciate his genius he said. He used to say that
oftentimes the greatest poets wasn't appreciated till after
they was dead. But that wasn't much comfort to me, for pa
was gettin' tired of supportin' us. But he bought us this
little farm and we moved here. And Adonis was so pleased.
He said he hadn't realized before how much inspiration there
was on a farm.

" 'There's also work to do on a farm,' says I, and I made
up my mind to teach Adonis somethin' useful. So one night
I gave him a pail and a stool and sent him out to milk the
cows. When it began to grow dark and Adonis didn't come
I was worried, so I went to investigate and there he was
sitting on the pail milking into the stool. After that I let
Adonis go back to his poems. I just decided that a poet
wasn't made to be useful. And I ran the farm and took in
boarders same as I've been doin' since.

"I never came to words with Adonis except over the
children's names. And he would name them poetry names,

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 191

which I was afraid would spoil their dispositions. But no-
body could have the heart to refuse Adonis anything when he
looks soulful, so I just had to let him name the children
Janice, Mignonne, Andromache, and Rosamond. But I
always call 'em Jane, Minnie, Annie, and Rose, which are
good, sensible names."

Mrs. Martin paused as if in thought, "After all I don't
s'pose he could help bein' a poet, and poets can't help not
likin' wrinkles and bumpy hands. After a while he stopped
writin' poems to me. He tried writin' some to the children,
but he said children wasn't inspirin' subjects. And I was
so busy I couldn't keep an eye on him. And poets is like
children — they need to be watched. You can't judge them
like common, ordinary folks. So I don't blame him for
runnin' off with that pretty, little Hetty Snow, who didn't
have bumpy hands and wrinkles from takin' care of children
and boarders.

"But I tell you what, I'm goin' to spank all the poetry
out of the children, if I have to spank 'em till my hands is all
blistered."

K. B. White, '13.

192

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Qibz SnDtan Settlement

|c \m

OLLEGE life is apt to absorb all of our
energies and interests. The average stu-
dent is so thoroughly engrossed with her
duties and pleasures, so deeply interested
in the concerns of her little college world,
that she loses sight of the great world
beyond. She may read or hear of the problems of this great
world, she may feel a passing interest in the struggles and
achievements of humanity, but beyond this passing interest^
she goes her way oblivious to the vital questions and issues
around her.

The condition of affairs is a natural and perhaps a proper
one. It is only by entering heartily into college life that we
accomplish the best results. While this is the case, it does
seem that every student should, as far as possible, at least
familiarize herself with outside happenings and interests,
especially with those which are in close proximity to her
college.

As we live our life at Sweet Briar, as the days pass filled
with their ceaseless round of duties and pleasures, very few
of us give thought to a problem of humanity which is being
solved within a few miles of our college, a problem narrow
in a sense and yet connected with that broad one which the
United States has been grappling with since its very founda-
tion. I refer to the treatment and civilization of the Ameri-
can Indian.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 193

All of us have heard of the "Indian Settlement," or, as we
often call it, the "Mission." Some of ns have visited this
mission and have taken part in the services held in the little
chapel, set in the heart of the great woods. Those of us who
have had this experience must have been impressed with the
appearance of these mission folk. Probably their high cheek
bones, their stoical bearing, the many colors of their dress
gave us some intimation of their race. Although these people
are commonly called "Issues" they are in reality a branch of
the Cherokee Indians.

In the latter part of the eighteenth century the inhabitants
of the Piedmont section of Virginia were accustomed to see
small bands of Indians passing by their farms or stopping
at their wells for water. These Indians, who were members
of the Cherokees or allied tribes, dwelling on the borders of
North Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia, were in the habit
of making pilgrimages to Washington to see the "Great White
Father," their route passing through or near Lynchburg and
Charlottesville. On some of these pilgrimages various mem-
bers of the band dropped off in Amherst County. They took
up their abode in that portion of the foothills of the Blue
Ridge, known as Bear, Tobacco Row and Paul's mountains,
respectively. There this race has remained for over a
century. At the present day they are no longer an unmixed
race, although they proudly claim to be "Indian men and
Indian women."

There are about three hundred and twenty-five of these
people scattered throughout the western part of Amherst
County. Their homes are little log cabins about sixteen feet
square, and these cabins often accommodate several families.
The people live chiefly by raising tobacco, the women working
in the fields as well as the men. Their characteristics are

194 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

more strikingly Indian than their features, chief among these
being their stolid, unemotional bearing under all circum-
stances.

On one of our visits to the Mission we met a little Indian
girl about ten years old, wandering around in front of the
chapel. Thinking that here was indeed a chance to gain a
glimpse into the lives of these interesting people we cornered
the child and did our utmost to get her to talk. To our
surprise she not only refused to talk but manifested not the
slightest interest in us. She assumed a stoical, non-committal
air and showed an absolute indifference to our presence.
This is a mere example of the extreme stolidity which char-
acterizes even the children of this race.

Until the Civil War these Indians were isolated and
practically shut out from the outside world, owing to the
fact that their color precluded intercourse with the white
people and they on the other hand held themselves above the
slaves. In this way there seemed to be no place for them;
they existed in a little world of their own, a separate and
distinct race and colony.

The first attempt to Christianize these people was made,
about forty years ago, by first a Methodist and then a Baptist
minister. Both of these men inaugurated plans for a church,
but before their undertaking was accomplished they were
called to different fields. After the departure of these
ministers two old Indian men for a number of years con-
ducted a sort of Sunday school and prayer meeting for their
people, but these meetings were more in the nature of social
gatherings and fighting grounds than religious worship.

It was not until the summer of 1907 that any definite work
towards the Christianization of these people was accom-
plished. Then it was that Rev. Arthur P. Gray, Jr., of the
Theological Seminary, began missionary work among them.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 195

Owing to his perseverance, to the assistance of the church
people throughout the State, and to the subscriptions and
work of the Indians themselves, an attractive little chapel,
called St. Paul's Chapel, was built and consecrated in the
fall of 1908. Since this time the work has progressed
steadily. The chapel now has twenty-six communicants.
Two ladies, Miss Cornelia Packard and Miss Martha
Spencer, have taken charge of the mission work and also
opened a school for the one hundred and fifty children of the
settlement. The work towards the civilization of these people
has been in every respect most successful, and the outlook for
their future physical, intellectual and spiritual development
is most hopeful.

As all of us know our Y. W. C. A. has inaugurated the
custom of remembering the Indian settlement at Christmas
time. Many of us have experienced the real pleasure of
being present when the stoical little Indian children gazed
for the first time on a Christmas tree. I am sure those of
us who have had this experience wish our Y. W. C. A. custom
to be one of long duration ; wish too that, not only at Christ-
mas, but at other times, while our busy college life is passing,
we may at least not be unmindful of the efforts which are
being made to civilize and help these isolated people so near
our college walls.

A. M. P.

196

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

§>toeet I6riat EestiDents

TERN winter had held dominion over all of
nature for many weeks, when one day
dawned bright and warm, and the realiza-
tion of spring came to me. How had it
come in with such a bound ? It seemed to
to have taken possession of all of the outer
world, as well as of myself. I felt spring in my bones — I
must get out, near nature, where I could almost see the trees
budding and the flowers springing into life.

Being so impelled I made my way to the old rose garden.
Here one would find spring if anywhere. Ah! I was not
mistaken, for here were the first crocuses of the season, here
the grass was greener than outside, the trees seemed to have
more buds. But, what was that weird melody that greeted
me? My gaze was drawn toward the top of an old apple
tree, where a brown thrasher was perched, viewing the sur-
rounding country from this point of vantage. He, too,
seemed to have been awakened by spring, for he was singing
with all of the madness of early springtime. As the fervor
of his song increased his head raised, his whole plumage
seemed to lift, to float, tremble. Then the frenzy passed.
Who could mistake the wonderful truth of the returning life
when this bird was exultingiy singing it from the tree-tops ?
Such passionate caroling soon awakened all of the in-
habitants of the enchanted garden. Numberless songs were
wafted, through the tree-tops, from the throbbing throats of
these tiny creatures, who were so joyously heralding spring.
Here, very near me, was my friend of all winter, the
meadowlark. Even this old snow-lover seemed to feel the
thrill of springtime, for he lifted up his voice in a song which

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 197

I had not heard during the whole dreary winter. He re-
joiced in spring, yet there was a sadness about this song which
quieted the wild emotions that the frenzied brown thrasher
had aroused in me. His was a pathetic, mournful song,
pitched in a minor key, which saddened while it gladdened.

In a minute this sadness was dispelled by the clear, loud
call of our old familiar friend, the downy woodpecker. In
the midst of the wonderful melodies of these others he was
busily beating out his rolling tattoo all "for the love of the
lady." Soon his call was heard, and the "lady" appeared,
flying straight toward her future "lord and master," from
a distant oak. Then this happy pair began cheerily hollow-
ing out their home, oblivious to the fact that they were in
truth disturbing the harmony of the whole scene.

Just at this point a flash of blue crossed the garden. After
it had passed I saw that it had been occasioned by a small
bluebird, which was perched on an old, gnarled tree. Here,
doubtless, was the nest of this beautiful little creature. Soon
he began a song which, though the tones were quavering, ten-
tative, and uncertain, was yet very appealing in its tenderness
and the pleading quality of the voice. In spite of the minor
strain which ran through the whole of the song, he seemed
to be nature's very exponent of the joy of living.

Again my attention was attracted by a bright flash of color.
The flash ceased, and in its place appeared a haughty
creature, strutting about quite near me, and bearing himself
with a refined and courtly dignity. This cardinal — for it was
none other — seemed, indeed, a shining example of self-con-
scious superiority. Seeing that he had attracted my attention
he began his song. Commencing with a strong, rich whistle
like the high notes of a fife, repeated over and over as if to
make perfect the overture, suddenly the music ceased and I

198 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

learned that there was to be no glorious performance after
all, only a prelude to — nothing. For a few minutes I
listened to this prelude, which was repeated time and time
again. Then, away flew our brilliant friend to attract the
attention of some one else for a time. I looked after him,
wondering what his thoughts were; whether he was really
what he appeared to be — a flashy, attractive creature of
whims, darting here and there, flaunting his brilliancy before
the eyes of his less fortunate neighbors — or an undeveloped
genius, who would some day astonish the world by the won-
derful song he would add to his already formed overture.

There appeared at this moment one of these neighbors, who
in appearance was no doubt his less fortunate brother, yet if
one should listen to his variety of expression for a very few
minutes one would see how wonderful are his resources. This
very versatile creature is our cherished mockingbird. First,
he began his song with the grating tones of the horrid cat-
bird. Hearing this, one would believe it absolutely impossible
that the rich, tender song which followed could belong to the
same bird. This is the song that he sings when, in the dead
stillness "of the night, he wakens to pour forth his passionate
feelings to a silent world.

So I was entertained in this bright spring morning by one
great songster after another. Each seemed to be trying to
outdo the other, yet at the end of this wonderful out-of-door
concert I was at a loss to know which one had awakened in
me the deepest feelings, which had aroused most the dormant
passions. Each, in his own peculiar way, had delighted me
and brought to me the realization of spring ; the fact that life
was returning into this world which had, too long, been held
under the spell of cold, unyielding winter.

A. W. Cumnock, '10.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Co tjje Spirit of ^ong

SONG of the soul and music of thought,
Gift of the high gods to mortals below,
Imperfect expression of beauty vast,

Lighting the way, Truth's lamp all aglow,
Bringing faint echoes from far-away lands
Beyond misty clouds which obscure our view-
Whispers which only the heart understands,

Glimpses of dream-beauty perfect and true —
Come to us now, thou Spirit of Song!

Settle amongst us, accompany our way;
Scatter thy roses when the road seems long ;
Color with glory the commonplace clay.
Bring down to earth this gift faint, elusive,
Beauty incarnate, all good inclusive !

M.

200 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Cfje jforeign mtm of alto Susanne

ISS SUSANNE HOLLIDAY lived in a
spacious, handsome, old house in New York
and, as she had nothing else to do, she
spent her time worrying. Half the time
she worried over her house — it was spotless
— not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere,
but, in spite of the lack of dust and dirt, Miss Susanne
searched for it none the less diligently. The other half of
her time she worried over her young nephew, Larry Brandon,
who lived with her whenever he stayed in New York at all.
Larry was the possessor of a large income, which he spent
rashly — he was the possesser, also, of a wandering disposition,
and wandered rashly around the United States at will. He
hadn't begun on Europe yet, but Miss Susanne put the idea
into his head. If he must wander, reasoned Miss Susanne, at
any rate Europe would be somewhat improving to his mind —
much more so than his numerous hunting trips to the West,
and cruises up the Hudson, which he took so often. There-
fore she suggested the idea of a European trip and Larry
and some of his friends immediately jumped at the idea and
decided to go.

To-night, however, as she sat alone in the library, a sudden
and awful idea came to her. She sat there and thought and
thought, and the idea grew rapidly in probability and fear-
fulness. She groaned aloud and glanced around the hand-
some old room anxiously. "That imp," she wailed, "is just
certain to marry some foreigner, and bring her back here to

THE SWEET BBIAR MAGAZINE 201

my house ! If he marries a Japanese girl that can't speak
English — but he won't, that kind wouldn't appeal to Larry —
he'll probably select a Spanish dancer with glittering clothes
and lots of big, copper bracelets. I can see her now —
heavens above ! — and he leaves early to-morrow morning be-
fore I could possibly see him — oh ! — what shall I do ?"

As there was absolutely nothing she could do, she went to
bed in a rage over the prospect of Larry's foreign wife. Miss
Susanne had a way of crossing bridges before she even came
within hailing distance of them.

Miss Susanne had gone to bed in such a fearfully perturbed
state of mind that she dreamed many dreams that night, and
often she tossed and groaned in her sleep.

Larry had returned from his European trip. He was sit-
ting in the library again, reading. He looked very strange
— things always do in dreams — and, mercy me, he was telling
Miss Susanne that he was a Mormon! Then she seemed to
see around the house many wives — a great multitude of wives.
In one corner sat a Japanese girl, who fanned calmly, and
fanned, and fanned, and fanned. Miss Susanne hated fans.
All the Persian rugs were rolled up into a heap in the immac-
ulate parlor, and in the middle of the room a Spanish dancer,
in glittering garments, and with many copper bracelets,
danced wildly to and fro; danced, danced — yes, actually
danced in Miss Susanne's house, and that honorable and very
devout lady was a very strict Methodist.

And, oh, there were many more wives — airy French chorus
girls, Scotch milkmaids — all, all of them foreigners. But —
oh, horror of horrors ! — an Egyptian maid with dusky hair
sat in the front hall, while at her feet lay a spotted creature
— a dreadful, furry creature ; good heavens, it was a leopard !
— lying in undisturbed elegance on Miss Susanne's rug, and

202 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

probably shedding hair all over it, too. She seemed to hear
Larry's voice in bold, loud tones, announcing, "This is my
favorite wife, Aunt Sue — 'queen of the harem,' so to speak,
you know."

With a scream Miss Susanne awoke. The Egyptian maid
and the leopard had vanished. She was in her own room in
her own bed, and only Larry's voice was real, calling her
loudly from somewhere downstairs.

Dressing hurriedly, Miss Susanne rushed downstairs.
Larry looked at her anxiously. He had never seen his dig-
nified aunt rush before, and, moreover, her face was pale —
her eyes anxious and startled.

"I just wanted to tell you, Aunt Sue," he said calmly,
"that I'm not going abroad, after all — one of the boys found
out he couldn't go at the last minute, so we just gave up the
trip."

With a wild, hysterical shriek of joy, that dignified and
undemonstrative maiden lady fell upon Larry's neck. "Oh,"
she sobbed, "I'm so glad you're not going!"

"Why, Aunt Sue," said Larry, in amazement, "I thought
you wanted me to go. You suggested the trip yourself ; you
know you did."

Miss Susanne's dream returned to her vividly. She saw
with especial clearness the leopard on her rug, and shuddered.

"Oh," she cried, "I have a special reason for not wanting
you to go."

"Why?" asked Larry, gently, but with his curiosity now
thoroughly aroused, "why don't you want me to go ?"

Miss Susanne hesitated. Then she drew herself up in all
her dignity and reserve. "Because," she answered sternly,
"just because."

Marie Abrams.

EDITORIAL

Jennie Hurt Editor-in-Chief

Associate Editors:
Eugenia W. Griffin Annie M. Powell
Frances P. Murrell Mary B. Pinkerton
Mary V. Parker.
Eugenia M. Buffington Business Manager

We want to say .something about student government in
general, and student government at Sweet Briar in particular.

We have never had any other form of govern-
Student ment, and hence, we can speak authoritatively

Government, only of this kind. The thirty-six original

students of Sweet Briar had lived together
not more than two weeks before they petitioned the faculty to
be allowed to govern themselves "in matters not strictly
academic." This the faculty granted, and a formidable
constitution was drawn up embodying rules and regulations
chiefly in regard to quiet during study hours and after lights,
said laws being executed by the Executive Board composed
of the four officers of the association and three other members
and a Board of Proctors — one proctor from each corridor.
Since this first year the students have taken into their con-
trol matters concerning attendance at chapel, tardiness to
meals, and daily exercise. For a while proctors were chosen
to put these laws into execution, but this past year we have
taken a step still further by introducing the honor system
into our association. Every individual student is now
responsible for her own registration of daily exercise, tardi-
ness to meals, chapel attendance, as well as for honest dealing
in academic work. However, if she proves herself incapable

204 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

of assuming this responsibility, she is reported to the Execu-
tive Board of the association, which deals with her even to
the extent of expulsion from the organization.

We are glad to say, however, that our students as a whole
have responded to this appeal to their integrity and honor
by showing that they are fully capable of assuming both an
individual and a social responsibility.

We feel that student government is the only method of
government for college students, in that it not only trains
the student in self-reliance and self-control, but develops her
executive ability and her power of cooperation with her fellow-
students as well. Indeed, when one is preparing for life
mere physical and mental training without this training in
self-control and self-government is practically worthless.
The student who cannot abide by the laws which she herself
makes and enforces, cannot in the nature of the case become
a good citizen in the larger world, where willingly or unwill-
ingly she must take her place.

The officers of our institution believed this or they would
never have entrusted to the students so important a matter.
The way in which our association has developed and
strengthened within these first four years of its history
indicates that their confidence has not been misplaced.

In fact, when we consider that Vassar College was sixteen
years in establishing her student government, that the
students of Wellesley, which was founded in 1875, did not
draw up their constitution until 1900-01, and that Smith is
still under faculty control, we cannot but feel a certain sense
of pride in the fact that our own organization, begun by
thirty-six students in the first year of the college, should have
within the space of four years attained to its present stage
of development.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 205

It seems most strange for us at Sweet Briar to be talking
of commencement, that is, a commencement in the real sense
of the word, beginning with the baccalau-
Commencement. reate sermon, proceeding with Senior ban-
quets and teas, addresses and class-day
exercises, and closing with that sad and joyous day when each
dark-robed Senior stands to receive her diploma and to have
her hood placed around her shoulders. Indeed, we are to
have everything usually associated with the close of college,
except the alumnae.

But though we have no alumna?, there are about fifty old
Sweet Briar girls who are planning to meet with us on June
the fourth to see their college send forth her first graduates.

We welcome you home again — one and all ! To you of
1906-07, who also were pioneers with these five graduates;
to you of 1907-08, who lived with them as Sophomores, and
to you of 1908-09, who knew them as Juniors, we, who have
also honored them as Seniors, extend our greetings !

For us, as well as for you, they have always been our
upper class, and for us as for you they will always remain
our first alumnae — our older sisters !

206 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

athletic*

On April 11th the Athletic Association held its second
annual Field Day. The long weeks of training under the
committee in charge had filled with enthusiasm
Field Day. even those students who are least fond of
athletic sports. Needless to say the contestants
themselves were more vitally interested in the day's events.
The athletic field, roped off in our college colors, was sur-
rounded by students and members of the faculty, who were
interested in the outcome of the contests. Programs, with
the names of the contestants and the list of entries, were
sold by the Y. W. C. A.

The officials appointed by the Field-day committee were
Miss Plaisted, starter; Miss Guion, timekeeper; Alma
Booth, scorer; Dr. Harley, Miss Howland, Nan Powell,
judges. These officials and the Field-day committee took
entire charge of the exercises. Creditable records were
established in the first three entries, this being the first time
they have been included in our list of events. The running
high jump, running broad jump, and hop-step-and-jump were
especially interesting. In all three of these Ellen Hayes
surpassed her last year's splendid record.

After the contests of this kind the races took place on the
long stretch of road leading to the athletic field. The course
was marked off for the 100- and 50-yard dashes, which came
as the climax to the day's contests. The dashes were the
supreme tests of endurance and athletic ability. Taking into

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 207

consideration the fact that we have never had a regular track
team we may well be proud of the records made by the run-
ners.

The entries and records of this Field Day were as follows :

1. Baseball throw 109 feet

2. Basket-ball throw 59.3 feet

3. Eight-pound shot put 20.6 feet

4. Running broad jump 13 feet

5. Running high jump 3 feet 10y2 inches

6. Standing broad jump 6 feet 4^ inches

7. Hop-step-and-jump 30 feet 8 inches

8. Fifty-yard dash 6.6 seconds

9. Hurdles (100 feet) 5.2 seconds

10. Hundred-yard dash 13.2 seconds

In the evening the President of the College distributed to
the five successful athletes the much-coveted S. B.'s.

The letters are given to those students who have broken
former records or established new records. Those receiving
S. B.'s were :

f Running broad jump
1 Hundred-yard dash

Dorothy Swan j Expound shot put

( Baseball throw

Laura Portman Basket-ball throw

Louise Hooper Fifty-yard dash

Frances Matson Hurdles

Ellen Hayes, having gained the highest number of points
(20), has the honor of holding the Athletic Cup for the
college year 1910-1911.

208 TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

This spring has brought tennis into greater favor with
Sweet Briar students than ever before, although it has always

been one of our most popular games. The
Tennis interest taken in tennis has reached its height

Tournament, during the last two weeks while the annual

tournament has been taking place. Miss
Murrell, the Head of Tennis, arranged a schedule of games
starting on Monday, May 9th, and extending into this week.
Those entering the tournament were:

DOUBLES.

Isabel Cornwall and Esther Cornwall.
Sue Hardie and Eva Horner.
Frances Murrell and Dorothy Bancroft.
Dorothy Swan and Laura Portman.
Nan Powell and Mary Parker.
Dunbar Avirett and Nell Tandy.
Ida Ross and Martha Tillman.

SINGLES.

Dunbar Avirett. Isabel Cornwall.

Nell Tandy. Louise Hooper.

Ellen Hayes. Frances Murrell.

Lucile Marshall. Eva Horner.

Esther Cornwall. Sue Hardie.

The preliminaries were interesting as deciding which
players would play in the finals. The four who played for
the championship in the final games were Esther and Isabel
Cornwall against Dorothy Swan and Laura Portman. The
Cornwalls won two successive sets, thus gaining the right to
hold the championship in doubles. Throughout the tourna-
ment the champions played a remarkably good game ; their
swift, hard serves were fully equalled by their steady all-
round playing.

So far the championship in singles has not been decided.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 209

A series of meetings conducted by the different classes has
been planned. The Freshman Class a few Sundays ago held
the first meeting of the series with "The Freshman's Ideal
of the All-Round College Girl" as their topic.

The Missionary Committee has received a letter from Miss
Casler asking for help in furnishing a Summer Vacation
Cottage for working girls, in the mountains of North
Carolina. The Association has responded to this appeal by
sending some linen for the cottage.

One of the cleverest performances of the year was the
circus given by the Y. W. C. A. in the refectory a few weeks
ago. When the expectant audience assembled they found the
refectory transformed into a typical circus ring, with a broad
circle of seats and a goodly supply of sawdust in the middle.
There were, to be sure, country couples and city couples who
enjoyed with equal mirth the peanuts, popcorn and other
delicacies which were to be purchased for only a nickel or
two. At last when even popcorn and peanuts had become
monotonous, and the audience had begun to feel that perhaps
there would be no circus after all, the gentlemanly ringmaster
announced that the performance would begin with a grand
parade of animals collected from all parts of the globe at
an enormous expense to the manager of the company. What
an exciting twisting and turning of heads there was when
each tried to get the first glimpse of the line of animals
coming in "one by one," led by the big elephant who swung

210 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

himself majestically along, lowering his dignity now and
then to squirt water into the faces of the startled onlookers.
After him chattered the monkey, while the camel bobbed be-
hind him; then came the kangaroo, leaping nimbly around
the ring, and the white bear and the brown bear, led in by
their keepers. At the very end of the line the donkey pranced
gaily in, waving his forefeet in the air.

When this wonderful procession had filed around the ring,
the animals were called upon to do their separate stunts.
The elephant sat most gracefully upon a chair, while the
amiable white bear performed all the tricks taught him by
his Italian keeper, Spaghetti.

Then the most thrilling part of all the show took place.
For a Spanish matador, gorgeous in crimson scarfs, con-
tended with an infuriated bull and was slain. Nothing
daunted, however, the dainty Japanese tight-rope dancer
fluttered gracefully on a rope, which fully satisfied the re-
quirement of "not more than ten feet above the ground."
Next the bandmaster led in his German band, which per-
formed a crashing accompaniment to the prima donna's im-
passioned rendition of "Love me and the world is mine."
The performance closed with a Koman chariot race, in which
the charioteers in flying togas dashed madly around the ring,
dragging after them their chariots — toy express wagons.

But this was not the end of the fun for this day, for what
would a circus be without the sideshows, with such sights to
be seen as the Siamese Twins with the cheerfully smiling
Billiken at their feet, the Living Skeleton, the Dwarf, the
Lady with her feet where her head ought to be, and the
snake-charmer surrounded by toads, snakes, and lizards ?
Indeed, these wonderful exhibitions were a most fitting
climax to so interesting and instructive a circus as this one
proved to be.

TEE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 211

College Copies

On March 21st the first debate of the second series took
place between the Seniors and Juniors. Nan Powell and
Eugenia Griffin, the Senior debaters, maintained the affirma-
tive side of the question, Resolved: That college training-
fits a woman for her sphere in life, while Emma Morris and
Josephine Murray opposed. Though the debate was indeed
a close one it was decided that on the whole the Seniors had
made a better argument.

Last spring we enjoyed a Kipling evening made delightful
both by Mrs. Bushnell's singing and Mr. Jack Lee's selections
from the poems of this author. A short while after Easter
this year Mr. Lee again entertained us with his selections
from a number of other authors. We hope that he will visit
us again very soon.

On the evening of April 18th, the Freshmen and Sopho-
mores engaged in hot debate on the subject of college athletics.
The Freshmen, Dunbar Evirett and Helen Lamfrom, con-
tended that "athletics have been excessively developed in
American colleges;" while the Sophomores, Loulie Wilson
and Frances Matson, upheld the opposite side of the question.
The Freshmen were victorious.

We are always glad to welcome Dr. Palmer, of the West-
minster Presbyterian Church in Lynchburg. On Sunday,
April 23d, he visited us again, giving us a sermon in the
evening as well as in the morning. After the evening service
he joined our social gathering in the parlor of Randolph
Hall, where he delighted us with his songs and readings from
Thomas Nelson Page.

212 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

Ulmus Alata ! Yes, Ulmus Alata is planted and is growing
at the rate of two buds a day steadily. Should any explana-
tion of this statement be desired we will say that Ulmus Alata
in biological and at the same time Senior terms is in plain
English and every-day language a young winged elm chosen
by the Senior Class, planted by them (or under their super-
vision), watered by them, and daily scrutinized by them from
top to bottom. Ulmus is indeed a wonderful tree already,
but how it is going to grow and develop !

On April 13th, the winners of the Senior-Junior debate
of the second series, namely, JSTan Powell and Eugenia Griffin,
debated against the winners of the Sophomore-Freshman
debaters of the same series, Dunbar Avirett and Helen Lam-
from, concerning fraternities. The affirmative of the sub-
ject, Resolved: That the fraternity is a desirable element
in the college, was upheld by the Seniors. The negative
side, however, came out ahead.

This debate was a most exciting one in that it determined
which of the two teams should take part in the final contest.

These Freshman victors, then, with the Sophomores, Elsie
Zaegel and Mary Pinkerton, who are themselves the cham-
pions of the first series, will discuss the question of War
Appropriations on Saturday, May 21st.

Happy should be the class whose representatives are able to
stand first in the debates of the entire year !

On May 1st, Mr. Dew again entertained the members of
the Current Events Club with one of his interesting talks on
Indians. As we have said before, Mr. Dew is particularly
interesting to us not only because his life among the Indians
has enabled him to know their languages, customs, and ideas
of life, but also because he understands the methods with
which the government is now dealing with this interesting
problem.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 213

A charming scene took place on the campus on April 14th,
when the Sophomores so pleasantly surprised the Freshmen,
who were busily engaged in planting the roses sent them by
Mr. Ernest Boley of Cleveland. The Sophomores with great
pomp and ceremony gave to the younger class the care of their
own roses, which they had tended during their Freshman
days, at the same time presenting them with a hoe to aid
them in their labor. With the promise that they would
prove themselves worthy of the gift of the Sophomores the
Freshmen continued their planting until dark.

The giver of these three hundred or more roses can never
know what they mean to us at Sweet Briar, for all spring
the roses which he gave the Freshmen of last year have been
adorning our campus, our tables, and our rooms.

The old students know, of course, that our five graduates
of this year are Annie Cumnock, Eugenia Griffin, Louise
Hooper, Frances Murrell, and Nan Powell.

It will be of interest to them also to know something of
the commencement exercises of this first graduating class.
We will, therefore, publish below the program for this event :
Saturday, June 4.

9 :00 p. m. Junior Banquet to Seniors.
Sunday, June 5.

11:00 a. m. Baccalaureate Sermon — Et. Bev. A. M.
Bandolph.
Monday, June 6.

5 :00 to 6 :30 p. m. Senior Tea in the Bose Garden.
8:00 p. m. Becital by the Students of the Music

Department.
9 :30 p. m. Banquet of the former Sweet Briar students.

r, June 7.
4:30 p. m. Class Day Exercises.

214 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

8 :00 p. m. "As You Like It," in the Sweet Briar Dell.
Class Banquet at Sweet Briar House.
Wednesday, June 8.

10:45 a. m. Commencement Exercises.

Music — Glee Club and Orchestra.

Prayer — Bight Beverend A. M. Bandolph, President of
the Board of Directors.

Address — Mr. N". C. Manson, Jr., Chairman of the Execu-
tive Committee of the Board of Directors.

Address — Hon. H. St. George Tucker, of Norfolk, Va.

Music — Glee Club.

Address — Dr. Le Baron R. Briggs, President of Radcliffe
College and Dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences of
Harvard University.

Address — Dr. E. A. Alderman, President of the University
of Virginia.

Conferring of degrees by the Right Beverend A. M. Ran-
dolph, President of Board of Directors.

Music — Glee Club and Orchestra.

We are in the midst of elections — the most exciting and
nerve-racking time of the year. As yet only the officers of the
Student Government Association and the magazine staff have
been determined. These officers are as follows:

The Student Government Association — President, Mary
V. Parker; vice-president, Loulie W. Wilson; secretary,
Eugenia Buffington ; treasurer, Elizabeth Franke ; execu-
tive board, Mary Tyler, Elsie Zaegel, and Jennie Hurt.

The Sweet Briar Magazine staff — Editor-in-chief, Jennie
Hurt; business manager, Henrietta Washburn; associate
editors, Eugenia Buffiington, Rebecca White, Margaretha
Ribble, and Lncile Marshall.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 215

We were indeed glad that there were so many visitors with
ns on May Day to enjoy not only the May Day exercises and
Masque of Flowers, but the delightful concert given by the
Orchestra and Glee Club as well.

We think that the Sweet Briar dances are always nice,
but the one on the evening of May Day surpassed them all.

President Benedict, with the members of the Executive
Board of the Student Government Association, the May
queen, and dance manager, stood in the receiving line. After
the eighty or more couples had passed this formidable array
the grand march, led by our May queen, Josephine Murray,
and Mr. Charles M. Abbot began. The dancing then con-
tinued until the wee small hours of morning. Between the
numbers ices were served, and supper about twelve o'clock.

The managers of this dance, Lucy Sims, Henrietta Wash-
burn, Isabel Cornwall, Martha Tillman, Bessie Grammer,
and Virginia Etheridge, are to be congratulated.

216 THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE

pergonals;

Among our guests for May Day were : Mr. and Mrs. Clyde
from Pittsburg, Pa. ; Mrs. Bancroft from Springfield, Ohio ;
Mrs. and Miss Kichardson from Charleston, W. Va. ; Mr.
Buffington from Evanston, 111. ; Mrs. Cranford, Mrs. Den-
ham and Mrs. Drew from Jacksonville, Fla. ; Mr. and Mrs.
Shand from Narberth, Pa. ; Mrs. Morriss and Miss Joynes
from Richmond, Va.

Margaret Potts has been visiting Miss Dearborn in
Amherst.

We were glad to have with us for May Day the following-
old students : Helen Purdy, Mrs. Cutchins, Lucelia McClain,
Annie Laurie Haynes, Alma McKay, Ellen Douglas Gray
and Virginia Shoop.

Miss Plaisted had as her guest during the first few days
of May, Miss Foley.

We are glad to welcome Margaret Cobb back to our midst,
and are pleased that she will be with us until the close of
college.

A few Sundays ago Mr. Palmer, from Lynchburg, and Mr.
Rollins exchanged pulpits. We enjoyed having Mr. Palmer
with us again.

The following students, chaperoned by Miss Howland,
attended the V. M. I. April hop: Margaret Thomas, Emma
Clyde, Sue Hardie, Florence Coffin, Rose Owen McDavid,
Katharine Lanier, Clyde Cranford, Margaret Dalton, Lillian
Bowman and Mayo Thach.

THE SWEET BRIAR MAGAZINE 217

Ida Ross and Marguerite Shafer, chaperoned by Miss
Selfridge, attended the April dances at the University.

We are glad to have Eva Hurt with us again.

Mrs. Cocke and Mrs. Wingfield, from Richmond, are at
Sweet Briar for a .short visit.

Carina Eaglesfield has arrived at Sweet Briar, and will
spend some time with us.

Mr. Duvall, of Baltimore, was the guest of his daughter,
Margaret, for several days in the middle of May.

Miss Virginia Dew, of Wytheville, Va., spent May Day
at Sweet Briar as the guest of her uncle, Mr. William B. Dew.

Clyde Cranford left college on May 7th for ISTew York,
where she expected to set sail for Africa on May 15th.

We were very sorry to have Emma Clyde leave for home a
few weeks ago because of illness.

Miss Martha Plaisted, who has assisted for the past two
year in the History and English departments at Sweet Briar,
has accepted a position at Bryn Mawr College.

We appreciate Miss Plaisted's interest in all of the en-
deavors of the students, especially in the Dramatic Club and
the Athletic Association, both of which will miss sorely the
help which she has so kindly given them.

Nan Powell, '10, has been chosen to fill Miss Plaisted's
position as English assistant for next year. We are glad of
this, not only because we shall now have Nan with us again,
but also because we realize how great an honor she is receiving
in thus being asked to become a member of our faculty.

Mr. and Mrs. Rollins will set sail very soon for Scotland,
where they will attend the World's Missionary Conference
which meets in Edinburgh in June.

Directory of ^>toeet IBrtar College

OFFICERS OF THE COLLEGE.

President Dr. Mary K. Benedict

Treasurer and Business Manager William B. Dew

STUDENT GOVERNMENT ASSOCIATION.

President Annie M. Powell

Vice-President Jennie Hurt

Secretary Louise M. Hooper

Treasurer Annie W. Cumnock

YOUNG WOMEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION.

President Loulie W. Wilson

Vice-President Eugenia M. Buffington

Secretary Henrietta Washburn

Treasurer Elsie Zaegal

ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION.

President Mary V. Parker

Vice-President Alma W. Booth

Secretary Mary Tyler

Treasurer Helen Lamfrom

HEADS OF SPORTS.

Tennis Frances P. Murrell

Golf Martha Tillman

Boating Kathleen Cowghill

Basket-ball Annie W. Cumnock

DRAMATIC CLUB.

President Eugenia W. Griffin

Vice-President Virginia Shoop

Treasurer Margaret Dalton

DEBATING CLUB.

President Annie W. Cumnock

Vice-President Margaret Browning

Secretary Frances N. Matson

CLASS PRESIDENTS.

Senior Class Louise M. Hooper

Junior Class Josephine W. Murray

Sophomore Class Frances N. Matson

Freshman Class Margaret Dalton

SWEET BRIAR ANNUAL.

Editor-in-Chief Annie M. Powell

Business Manager Frances P. Murrell

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The Sweet Briar
Magazine

Vol. I

No. 2

February, 19 10

SWEET BRIAR COLLEGE, VIRGINIA

The Sweet Briar
Magazine

Vol. I

No. 3

April, 1910

SWEET BRIAR COLLEGE, VIRGINIA

The Sweet Briar
Magazine

Vol I

No. 4

June, 1 910

SWEET BRIAR COLLEGE, VIRGINIA