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Woard of Editors
Editor-in-Chief
ELEANOR BontTEcou
Editors
DoroTHEA DE Forrest BALDWIN Amy Gorpon HAMILTON
Rosa VepDER Mason
Business Manager
Mary SHELDON
Assistant Business Manager
EuizaBeTtH YARNALL MAGuIRE
Treasurer
Auice DupLrey PaTTEerRson
Class Song
' Bryn Mawr, we sing thee greetings,
Beneath thy towers fair, 4
We bow to the daisies’ beauty,
We honor the name we bear,
Thy children of 1913,
Dauntless and free from fears,
O shall we still be faithful
At the end of a thousand years.
The shadows swiftly gather,
The darkness is falling fast,
But the fire our love has kindled
Glows red to the very last.
And deeply now we pledge thee,
With smiles that are almost tears
That we would still be faithful
Though it were to a thousand years.
Gorpon HAMILTON
KATHARINE PAGE
Contents
PAGE
GARD OW FOnWrene i ee as CL ee ae ea neo 5
OSES SOc ONS SEN SS 2 9S 2 es ere Ot ne Lan eu enna Une Ry Aaa ic
FresHMan YEAR
RRee OUNICRRR is ea rs ee co a ae 13
Puna Dune, Mnaane TOMNEMe Bite ee ge ue ew ae 14
Lae CRDOWMENT FoND, Gordon Hamiion 9. Se, 15
EAS DAN, CP RICUO SIGADER ee es lee | 18
MamenuA CUARS SUPPER. Piennor Miner 6 es ie ee aes eae 20
Tue First Week anv THE Last, Katharine Page and Gordon Hamilton... .......2... 22
MameHMAN Yman AGHIOS 9 ye eR a 25
SopHomore YEAR
RAMS ICMR ee Cie i ic) eo hee We Ma 29
Ruse Nieur: A Manru. Baiuan, Sylvia Hathaway . . . . 2. 1 we ee 30
Unrversities, ANNIVERSARIES AND ADVERSITIES; OR, How 1T FEELS TO BE TWENTY-FIVE; OR, THE
SHEEP AND THH DELEGoATs, Eleanor Boniscou .°. . 2. 6 i ee ee 35
(aE Penmoam Para on, Tum @iger (aay PAnED. . <6 6. eo 37
DNON-EURMIDICN Thali. Teatrine Name ee I ee eee 39
RUGY OR AND THR CEAGURA ANGRI Ge ke 8 ey 41
Tue Sitver Buape; or, Tue Buicutinc or THE CHERRY BLooms; or, WAILS FROM WAELNESS,
UN MUONS SURG. Fe i a ro 42
Psrupo-Tie
DRRTINA: NILEANOURD A(GCHIE Ce i Re ea Goa 44
NV OtGMa EN THE ADAM AUC Er en Fe BS ey ee Clk 45
REAR OE ET es Ne Ca Bae Reine Ga 47
UNE, RM MR OC i ee a ee aaa ee a 48
Junior YEAR
I a eR i a ee a 51
An I, RO AE es ee 52
Races or 4 asormaat, May Tope 2. ee eee. 54
Pe SA SAUNT, OIG BE aa i I 55
Contents—Continued
PAGE
Frenziep Finance; or, A Minp tHat Founp Itsexr, Jessie Crow Buchanan... ... 2. ++: 56
Jonior-Saniorn Supyur, | Wleanon Portes el Me ee Pn eh eh en el 58
SUNTOR: VMAR: ATR PRITOR eh Oe iN Tg Lama ee halls RL Giang Giiip lee Hs 59
Senior YEAR
CL Ase Onmicu se ee Fe My rs Le UN MN als ol Linley vali al oll rt 63
Smnion RECEPTIONS, MEUTY TONIC ee a ea aoa pi velia tact ia Memb ia Niland | [erie 65
Clidss Sracisrics. Hosa Vi ann a Oe ee ee ome US Te lai da sepia tal alts 6 68
Taw Sprmiv of OVER woRkK. Lana MC. Poder ee ee ee Gi wig em out duyaan ey) loi lee's 70
Tact Ap Der Marsa Te Ten ee ea Goi adler hey ah td Si ile Rm! eg omer 71
Hossies or Hoops; or, 1913 anp Dress, Sarah Atherton .. 1... 0 eee eee ees 13
On Sones, Katharine Page ee ee ae Mas Ge ial so . 76
Uxunatio; or, Tue Music or rue Future, Dorothea de Forest Baldwin... .... +--+... 18
Antt-Dumocnacy, Gordom Hamilton 6 era OO Nee eae ap ais eiiviel la ate 80
Onyerrc Génie) Maid Desa ee io ee ili a ia ane ie be 82
Waat Consriretus « Crasaic,) Dorothea Baldwitt 0 OM a 8 oa ee eye 83
WATER POLO. POON SEAT eM ae le ko clea Uae aac 87
Tue Prospect or Berna a Warpven, Eleanor Bontecou .........+++4-. Nae Ss eae 89
Cocky. HOCIHY, LOA IOUIOC a ey ate Sian Boh alta 92
Awirenmatn, Rosa Wi Mapon ee A are Bl ait i eT avian 94
Preoasus Wirn A Puncture, Academic Ghost Howling . . 2. 1 6 oe es 95
Sine YMA EOE Ne ea Le ea ete ye gcina eilals gti alla ale 98
“Wer Come From Rock anp Merrion”
Bs SONG ee A WE MRR Atc is Ne TUS FARA Ser Rn CAN Gg 101
Tron: FANT OF EMIT, De Oe ee i i ee NT agate 105
Tew PHrtOsORn ia (Ol MOOK): HOCKIEL SLC ee Ce ea Ve Sa ol lait ative vner bets i 6 106
‘Tm ROMANCE OF SRADINOR, (AGELAUIG SUNUDION a a Pa a aie cele an aieuth y's 107
"Tania CONVERAATION. ThCHy CO CDIOM One ee se re avait daa a Ocal ah (ah fel 109
Fron Ga PeMBROm ee apr Ser ati situa a aon lil
WONV OY FE Bye a ele kha a Cereb ane BG he al Ce batey ease tell ta eld et 112
Ciias ADnmeen re ee Fra Le Seer ae Vee re ae ie NE 113
WiCUiee: Pir ee a eg ei ey we bal ie 119
Sreshman Year
Freshman Wear
Class Officers
Chairman—ELEANoR Nixon ELMER
Temporary Treasurer—NaTHALIE SWIFT
Temporary Secretary—KATHARINE SCHMIDT
President—ELEANOR Nixon ELMER (resigned), KATHARINE ALICE PAGE
Vice-President and Treasurer—KATHARINE ALICE PaGE (resigned), JEssts Crow BucHANAN
Secretary—KaTHARINE REILLY SCHMIDT
Mffices beld bp the Class
Self-Government Representative—SytviA HatTHAWAY
Representative on May-Day Committee—Cuara CROCKER
Students’ Council—MAnrsorIE Frances MurRAyY
MarGarReET GRAHAM BLAINE
14 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Freshman Dhow
HE “Refined Vaudeville” of our Freshman year was “The 1913 Lottery of the
Helpless and Hopeless” ten hours before 1913 made its first appearance on the
stage as a clever, original, and “tradition-busting” class. Great confusion and
little done!
*The most important things in the caste were the chickens. You remember those
wonderful, downy, sofa-cushion-stuffed chickens? Incidentally, recall them in the making
—a vast morass of yellow dye and soggy cotton-batting on which Eleanor Elmer’s black hat
floated. The chickens led on our class animal—the Great Cock, which, animated by Ger-
trude Ziesing, danced so daintily that night.
Then there were Clara Owen and Beatrice Nathans, not together of course. Clara
Owen had no equal at the clog nor did Beatrice have when she posed as the languorous
snake charmer.
Henny and Zelda did their famous nigger stunt together, Alice Aimes, as a chorus
lady, jollied our idea of a New York stage manager (Isabel Haines), both making their
reputation. Stout and Ziesing talked their way through a clog and—but probably you
too have saved a program.
Starting our one class tradition that night, 1913 “got there some how;” it produced
a theatrical office with manager, office boy and applicants, disproved the “Helpless and
Hopeless” theory of the rehearsal and covered itself with glory—at least to its own
satisfaction.
KaTHARINE Hovucuton Srovt.
*The author of this article states that the only things that she real/y remembers about Freshman Show are “much yellow dye
and those chicken trousers.’”’—EprTors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 15
The Endowment Fund
Prologue
HERE we were on Ward’s Island, Rosa, Worthy and the unhappy author of the
following! Dotty, pursued by Nemesis in the shape of the Brown ‘Tail Moth, could
not be with us. We had got to the wretched point of considering what was left to
be done. Mary Tongue, who had been bound over in early spring to be particularly prolific
and clever, had not sent in a line: and there were others.
Worthy turned wearily to me, list in hand.
“Well, then you will have to take the ‘Endowment Fund,’ ” she said.
“But Schmidt was to do that,” I objected.
“Yes, but she won’t.”
“How do you know she won’t?”’
“She has just said so.”
“But perhaps she didn’t mean it,” I said with some hope. ‘I know Schmidtie.”’
“T am afraid she did though.”
“Why not leave it out?’ I suggested brightly. |
“Freshman Year would be too thin then; if you can’t do it,” sighed Worthy, “you
can see that someone else does.”
“Tt is so likely in the next two days that I’ll find someone!’ I snorted indignantly.
“Or, perhaps you’d like me to ask the cook!”
Narrative
Now I know very little about the Endowment Fund except that 1913 pledged itself
to raise $1000, and proceeded to do it by heroic efforts, witness Maud Holmes,
who used to get up on chill winter days to call people and shut their windows. Some
members of the class earned their share by cleaning silver, washing tea cups and even
16 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
blacking boots, which must have been hard on the Morris-Brooks-James-etc. Union. Others
ran errands on the Pike—and this was before the day of automobiles too,—but then it was
that the genius of Schmidt and Matlack really asserted itself. This was obviously why
one was chosen to write this article, and that I am able to relate their prowess without
bitterness is due to my lofty soul.
Schmidt and Matlack were most astute Freshmen; who revealed their peculiar gifts
early in the year, as you all will remember, by starting classes, or personally conducted
tours, to wit. ‘‘Who’s who in college—and why.” If I forget the exact methods, I ask
the brilliant ‘Executors’ pardon, but the scale of prices ran something like this:
Introductions—Five cents.
Ordinary Celebrities Pointed Out—A penny a piece.
I have a dim recollection that English Sharks went two for a cent owing to Matlack’s
prejudices.
In the year 1910 the college had a few Snobs as well as Celebrities. In the year 1911,
the Snobs were willing to admit in a deprecatory way that they were Snobs—which was
of course the beginning of their decadence. In the present era—well, we mustn’t go into
that—the point was that 1910 was an excellent year for the sort of thing which Schmidt
and Matlack instituted. It might be said in passing, that there were so many applications
for introductions to Elsa that the price was about to be increased, when the Managers
realized suddenly that they had in turns been booking Joy’s orders and she was then, sly
creature, on her eighth introduction.
We managed to get our thousand, and were going about with our heads in the air
until our breath was taken away and our pride humbled at hearing of the fortune 1912
had donated. We must in fairness to our noble and unresting effort, note that as a class
we apparently lacked grandmothers.
At any rate by Commencement, at the last moment of allotted time, the last neces-
sary pledge was given in; and Miss Thomas, who had just risen to announce the college
failure, was able to proclaim the college success. I can’t vouch for the details of this.
Katharine and I had stayed over Commencement week to play basket-ball or tennis or
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 17
something; we had attended Garden Party, dressed in grimy white sailor suits, at first
crawling under Denbigh shrubbery but finally shamelessly demanding salad in the broad
light of day. We had fully intended to see the “President of our country in a tent,” but
were smitten with homesickness just as his bodyguard of bluecoats arrived on the campus
and so failed to see the last pledge dramatically cast at Miss Thomas’s feet. Certainly
the Endowment Fund must have been gained because the college shortly afterwards was
able to effect a substantial not to say generous increase in room rents.
Proof
In the matter of proof, I may as well admit that certain facts herein alleged might
not be readily corroborated; and certain statements may not err on the side of con-
servatism, but
Conclusion
It is all Schmidt’s fault anyway.
Gorpon HAMILTON.
18 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
May Dap
As Seen bp the fool
T’S hot, of course, for this is May Day: and look now at that long line twisting and
| winding—a thread of lively revelers. They are waiting to be made up—to have a-
touch of rouge, a long, white beard, or perhaps be given a jeweled crown and gilded
sceptre. Here they come no longer students, for just see the fiery dragon and oh—he! he!
—the Cupids.
I loved my bells and little Beppo, the donkey which was so slow. I had to punch
him repeatedly with my bauble. The procession outside of Pembroke Arch started: it
moved: it seemed to thrill with a new thrill of life. But come, it moves too slowly! Shall
I not ride the hobby-horse? Whoa, there!! Marry, but there’s old Father Time crossing
the cloister green. A pity such hoary locks should fall around so young a face—and his
elastic walk belies the rounded shoulders. Ah, Tempus fugit. Here rides Bacchus along-
side. The leathern bottle is still full, but will not be long. That face too belies the part.
One day the part will be a more Christian one.
Now, Hobby, stay, by my halidome! A pretty face and queen of the dancers!
How the cloister is crowded!
Whether in the world or B. M. C.,
Such dancers are a thing to see.
Oh Tira lee, tra-la.
There, I declare, Hobby, hold up, or we will be running down the Merrymen—or by
that rider on the grey horse be run down ourselves:
I’d sworn it was a man for sure
But that the wig was insecure!
Hey diddle, good merry men. I cannot tarry with you. I must run and fool them wisely
for the play’s begun! * * *
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 19
But what is this? Three swords! Hey, Pickle Herring, Blue Breeches, Pepper
Breeches—do you ask me what I see? !—
Marry, three fools—e’en as we
*T were wiser a good fool to be
Than such fake wise men as ye three.
Oh, kill me not, you—my three sons—I your poor old father! “Well, if I must die,
I must die. But, aye, when wisdom comes from Folly, it is time to die.”
And being dead, I can write no more.
LuciLe SHADBURN.
20 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Freshman Class Supper
RESHMAN Class Supper—it was ages ago, but it happened. I remember thinking
about it days beforehand, and flocks of flaming red chanticleers kept me awake after-
wards thinking about it, so it must have happened. It was in the spring of 1910
when the dogwood was in blossom and Polecon quizzes were budding. That was when it
happened, and where it happened was in Pembroke dining room—the walls were disguised
with class banners, dogwood and upper classmen. How it happened I am not quite sure.
We all marched in dressed in our best, and then cheering began—upper classmen cheered,
others cheered, we cheered and Schmidt and Matlack cheered; at least, I suppose they
did, and it was the best and biggest gathering of the class the whole year. That was just
what we wanted, so we were not too generous about letting the upper classmen stay to
enjoy our fun, and after M. Blaine gave us a toast to “Class Songs” and we showed them
what cocky stunts we could do when we tried, we sang them out politely but firmly. Then
we all grew ten years younger, and with every one in a good humor it would have been the
best time in the world to have discussed some weighty question, but we were not there
for that and besides K. Stout and Jessie would have had words about it, as I remember
they did have a pitched battle over the election of The Keeper of The Class Animal.
Poor old bird, he must be old enough now to take care of himself, but in those days he was
dreadfully flighty and cocky and always making breaks. Don’t you remember Zelda told
us all about the trouble he had made for us with his breaks. ‘‘Gyrls, I would rather live
a thousand years, than bow down and worship a rooster,”’ she said when he was nominated
for our pet, in opposition to enough salamanders, flamingoes and potato bugs to start a
nightmare. But that is another story and we are now in the midst of class supper. Iki
Irwin is talking now, Iki is working herself off the blacklist with one period of talking.
“La, la, la, Iki, you silly ass, what are you doing there?” didn’t I hear Miss Applebee
say, but it must have been during May Day rehearsal when Iki had that part given to
her. May Day—that reminds me of a toast. Clara Crocker gave us an impromptu one—
from the back of her fan. It was an important subject just about then. Mr. King told
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 21
«
me once that we “just stood around like marmalade pots—done up in Lincoln green and
Merrymen don’t giggle!” and the Merrymen did not even smile. But that is another
story too and does not belong to me; it belongs to the Endowment Fund. Ah, now I have
come back to our supper. D. Baldwin, will you tell us how “A Penny Earned is a Million
Saved?” What are those people tearing around the table for? Engaged, is it possible—
they don’t look it, and who are they? Well, if we begin to count them and to add to the
list the present number of happy ones, statistics would show that a great percentage of
the class are to “live happily ever after.” Then Schmidt told us “How to make Upper
Class Friends and Enemies.”’
One toast after another, and so the supper went on. Don’t you remember what a good
stunt Rockefeller contributed and Denbigh too and several individual songs and dances
that were excellent? We were most interested when our athletic captains gave us toasts,
it was just among ourselves, so we did not have to suppress our joy when Alice Hearne
mentioned a hockey victory, or Yvonne our success in Water Polo, and Gordon had hopes
to offer us in basket ball,—and we had cheers to offer her.
Then we sang some more, and not only our own songs either, which was more than
cocky. It was a wonderful evening, but underneath all the frivolity and hilarity there
was a large amount of sentiment, which was not sentimentality. Every one felt it more
than ever when “Pagie” rose and told us things we were glad to hear and expressed for
us just what we had felt. To those who have received their diplomas and have passed
through four years of college life, Freshman Class Supper may have seemed only incidental
and one of many good times, but to one who has been a Freshman only, it was an epitome
of the year and the good things it had offered. It was an intimate getting together of the
class, not to decide class matters nor to hold its own against other classes, but to know itself
as a simple gathering of hopeful, happy classmates.
EvLeanor Emer.
22 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
The First Wieck and the Last
F anything could shake our faith in the value of a college education, it would be a com-
parison of the first week and the last. Improvement might be reasonably expected
in four years, but in point of fact both beginning and end of one’s academic career
are equally confused and wearisome, perhaps in the one case our buoyant youth carries
us through it better, but the real difference—well, we shall point out the real difference
later!
Four years ago our mammas said goodbye to us at the train. This was a tactical error
—see below. In those days we had to ride in parlor cars because we were young. This
was sometimes an inconvenience coming home. We decided as we rode along that Bryn
Mawr would be like Smith only smaller.* In front of us sat a person with heavily braided
hair who read a book most intently, without looking up. We decided she was a college
girl and wondered if we should ever be so studious. At West Philadelphia we followed
her off the train and aboard the local to Paoli. She read all the way. Long afterwards
we discovered she was Alice Whittemore, and the book was the Thirty Years’ War. It was
our first introduction to the orals. In time we also were studious.
When we stopped at Bryn Mawr it was raining; it always does rain at crises like
vacations; and cabs were no more frequent then than now. But now at least K. A. P.
does not carry an anvil in her dress suitcase; and we walk by way of Shipley school and
not by way of Yarrow. Yarrow was a mistake which we discussed sitting on our upturned
bags in the rain. At Rock Arch we almost parted company. K. A. P. would go through
Pembroke Arch or not at all and A. G. H. maintained that Rock was before us and good-
ness only knew where Pembroke might be. But we did not part company and the habit
grew stronger upon us.*
We can’t remember whether it was that night or the next morning that we began
signing our names. (Did we mention that it rained?) We signed for physical, oculist
Nots.—Bryn Mawr is smaller than Smith.—A. G. H., K. A. P. !
Nore 2.—We went through Pembroke Arch.—K. A. P.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 23
and medical appointments, tennis tournaments and finally for interviews with President
Thomas. But the combined efforts of all the yellow badges could not get us in to the
august Presence, as we had left our mammas at the train!
Henny Elmer was elected chairman very soon in Georgina’s room. One of us was
invited to the ceremony and the other abducted by violence. We were willing if a trifle
dazed. Neither of us knew exactly what was being done to Henny, but we liked her looks
and hoped it was all for the best.
Henny with great presence of mind promptly called a meeting—our first class meeting.
Caroline Nash had written a Rush Song and like Gaul we were divided into three parts
to learn it. That was the preliminary for Rush night, which shortly ensued. ‘Wear old
clothes,” we were told, “and nothing that will tear.” “A fight!” thought we with some
satisfaction, but that year Self-Government and our Juniors were in the ascendancy, and
we marched through the halls comparatively unmolested.
“Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up. Whoa 1913.”
We went out for hockey, and impelled by Cynthia Wesson’s none too gentle stick
and the persuasion of Miss Applebee’s voice we were actually intimidated into beating
1911 the first day. It was whispered on the side lines—‘ Stetson will make Varsity.”
The rest of the week we spent going to the Pike for picture hooks and looking for the
Book Shop. We might mention in passing that we found taking notes a good deal of an
experience. Other things obtruded themselves upon our attention too—like Christian
Association Reception, and the Reading of various Rules and Constitutions. 1912 did
it to us individually and Self-Gov. and the Fire Department by halls; and the Athletic
Association collectively. But it didn’t matter, as we got them gloriously mixed. And
for many weeks we had a vague feeling that opening doors was a shocking violation of
the draughts and warnings fire rule.
The very phrase, “And Freshmen are required to attend,” made us dizzy. My.
conscience,”’ said we, “if anything happens to-morrow night we will go home.”
This is the great point. Herein is the only real difference between the horrors of the
first week and the last. The last week we did go home.
24 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
We need not go into detail: we could not. We believe that the last week contained
the following items and would be glad if any one could arrange them in their proper order:
Class Supper, Commencement, Baccalaureate, Rehearsal for Commencement, Garden
Party, Bonfire, Giving up the Steps. If there was anything else, the memory of it was
obliterated by packing. “Come we may, but go we must.”
Since we did live through the first week and the last, we may as well admit that
we are glad we did.
KATHARINE Pace,
Gorpon HaAmMILTon.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 25
Freshman Year Athletics
Bockep Tennis Water Polo
College championship won by College championship in singles 1913 Cap tain—YVONNE Stop-
DARD
1910—
Captain—Auice HEARNE
Team
Joy TomLinson
MarcGaret BLAINE
Sytvia HatHaway
Louisa Low Haypocx
AuicE PatrErRson
KaTHARINE ALIcE Pace
ELeanor ELMER
Amy Gorpon Hamiuron
ALIcE HEARNE
GertrRubE Hrivricnus
Lyp1a STETSON
JEANNETTE MICHAEL
1913 on Varsity
Lyp1a STETSON
Gymnastic Contest
1912 vs. 1918. Won by 1913.
won by 1913.
College championship in doubles
won by 1913
Captain—Joy Tomuinson
Team
Amy Gorpon Hamiuton
KatuHarineE Atice Pace
Auice Parrerson
Class Champion—Amy Gordon
Hamitton
College Champion—Amy Gorpon
HAMILTON
Varsity Tennis—Amy Gorpon
HAMILTON
Katuarine A. Pace
Swimming
Captain—YVONNE STODDARD
Meet won by 1910
Records made—
68 ft. swim on front: ELEANOR
Eimer, 174/; sec.
College championship won by
1913
Track
Meet won by 1911
1913 Captain—Lypia Stetson
Basgket-Ball
College championship won by
1910
1913 Captain—Amy Gorpon
Hamitron
Team
Karnarine Axicre Page
Agnes O’Connor
GertrupE Hinricus
ELeanor ELmMer
Amy Gorpon Hamiuron
Fiorence Maup Dessau
Kernatu Stour
ExLeanor Bontecou
JEANNETTE MICHAEL
1913 Members of Varsity
Kartuarine A. Pace
Sophomore Year
Sophomore Wear
Class Dfficers
President—KaTHARINE ALICE PAGE
Vice-President and Treasurer—JEssiIE Crow BUCHANAN
Secretary—Mary SHENSTONE
Offices eld bp the Class
Self-Government Association. Advisory Board—Jxsstz Crow BucHANAN.
Treasurer—SyYLviaA HATHAWAY
Christian Association. Secretary—ELEANOR BontTECOU
Athletic Association. Vice-President and Treasurer—Lovuisa Low Haypock
Undergraduate Association. Assistant Treasurer—NaATHALIE SWIFT
Students’ Council—ELreanor Bontscovu, Syitvia HaTHAWwAY
Equal Suffrage League. Secretary—Amy Gorpon HaMILTon
College Settlement Chapter. Secretary—E.izABETH MAGUIRE
Consumers’ League. Secretary and Treasurer—Saran HENRY ATHERTON
Philosophical Club. Secretary—YVONNE STODDARD
Lantern. Assistant Business Manager—HELEN Evans
Tipyn o’Bob. Editor—Mary Van ArspALE TONGUE
Treasurer—ELEANOR BontTECOU
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Rush ight: A Martial Wallad
I
Old Stories tell how Hercules
A dragon slew at Lerna
With seven heads and fourteen eyes
To see and well discern-a,
But deeds of daring (of gore unsparing)
Done of late years, we can remember,
To make this quite clear, we wish you to hear
Of a night in one November.*
II
Guy Fawkes’ day had come ’round once more
And night had settled deeply
When out upon the campus green
Some pale blue ghosts stole sleepily—
Soon they were waked—their nerves were shaked,
And they were made to tremble
When devils all red—from foot to head—
Began for to assemble.
Ill
Had you seen them in their dress,
How wild they looked, how fearful,
You would, I’m sure, despite your pride,
Have been most terrible careful—
N. B.—In the rhyme in this ballad note the influence of Masefield.—Eprtors.
* Poetic license, we suppose.—Enprrors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 31
They cavorted and shouted, till nobody doubted
That there was some trouble a-humming
But most didn’t see four red champions flee
Off to Denbigh, where soon all were coming.
IV
But there was one who saw them go—
She was a knave, a traitor—
She told the enemy where they were—
They did not hesitate or
Falter, but they tore fast away
Panting and breathing fire
(This was told me in mirth—take it please, for its worth)
And looked for them lower and higher.
V
It is not strength that always wins,
Sometimes wit, in a rare case;—
Which made these gallant champions
Creep down a darkened stair-case,
Meaning to wait until some great
Good chance should bring them by
‘Those enemies who, all dressed in light blue,
Were waiting and prowling nigh.
VI
In costumes red as any blood
They crouched—when from their revels
The Ethiopes of Denbigh Hall
Came upon these dread devils.
32 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
With faces grey they rushed away
And shrieked and cried out “ ghostses,”
And for their protection called from every direction
The light blue in all of their hostses.
VII
Then there began, I grieve to say,
A scene of dreadful battle
When four red devils, wild with rage,
With sixteen foes did grapple—
In silence grim—with might and vim,
With tooth and nail and muscle,
Both behind and before—arms, legs, and all o’er
They each attacked all in the tussle.
Vill
One broke the bannister in twain
As it had been a pencil,
Then fiercely round about she faced
Ready to fight against all
Those who might dare to come a-near,
And come they did, in number,
To be thrown aback, alas and alack
As if they had been only mere lumber!
ak
Against the stone walls of the house
Two fought with one another
Till both were red as red itself,
You couldn’t tell one from t’other—
ES See! ae
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 33
Their breath came short—each movement brought
Such pain,—help might be guy them—
So each was wishing, but neither was missing
Strange sounds at a window above them.
x
Surprise there was in store for both
When from that very window
A form in red—‘ a devil ’’—both said
*Dropt down amid great din—o—
She had fought right well, and had bought right well
Freedom from all of her foes,
When hard pressed before, by a massive great door ©
*Gainst which they were squashing her toes.
XI
Up rose behind her, enemies
In dozens and in scores,
All new to her—quite blue to her—
She looked about for doors.
No more were there—e’en windows were rare
But to one she pushed her way—
Out of it she popped, down from it she dropped
Right into another fray.
XII
Then all these fresh and new-come foes
From nobody-could-tell-where
Grabbed up the two red-men left within
With littlhe—or almost no—care.
*N. B.—A. G. H. did not pay five dollars.
_ THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
(They might have been bags of meal)
If they hadn’t been tough—and tough enough—
Here we might say a great deal—
XI
The next day came, excitement passed
The world seemed grey and dreary
Self-governmental heads they shook
And it was felt quite clearly
“Rush Night” must die—you all see why?
A thing of the past it’s been made,
Now, if on Guy Fawkes’ day, you’re in Bryn Mawr, Pa.,
You'll only see Freshmen parade!
Syivia Hatuaway.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 35
Universities, Anniversaries and Adversities;
or, How it Feels to be Twenty-five;
or, The DSheep and the Delegoats
“Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light
Manus Bryn Mawrensium * * * fulgentes sicut stelle!”
DD these lines to our title, and what more need be said of the Twenty-fifth Anni-
versary! The questionable Latinity of the phrase is due, by the way, neither to
inaccuracy on Mr. Shorey’s part or to carelessness on the part of those who strove
night after night to teach us songs long since fallen into desuetude. It is simply an
illustration of the eclectic system of word-singing favored by the undergraduate body.
However, let us leave the discussion of undergraduate singing for another occasion; while
for those who dislike their intellectual food in the fori of compressed rations, we enlarge
upon our epitome of the anniversary. The three parts of our title, be it understood, were
not chosen arbitrarily, but represent the three divisions in which our commemorative
thoughts fall. (In this orderly behaviour of our thoughts one recognizes immediately the
influence of the debating-club.) Under the first heading come of course, among other
things, the rain and the speeches and the gorgeous gowns of those who marched in pro-
cession; under the second, the nightly song practices in the gym when the dynamo had
burst and we had to bring our lanterns to see by; under the third, the hockey varsity
ejected from Pembroke but faithful to training still, meekly retiring at a very early hour
all in one cot in Scotty’s* room while the lordly delegoats and their wives reclined at ease
in the spacious beds of Pembroke. At certain points, however, our lines of thought, still
perhaps under the influence of the debating club, become entangled or balky and refuse
to fall neatly into place. We begin, for instance, to wonder who were the goats, when
the rumor had reached the campus that the delegoats were arriving en masse, and under-
*N. B.—It is one of Scotty’s boasts that she has appeared in every class book since 1908. We are doing our best for her.—Eprtors.
36 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
graduates hanging out of the windows of every hall save swept and garnered Pembroke
to watch them come marching through Rockefeller arch two by two, commented on the
similarity of their attire and the uniform darkness of their complexions, until some one
discovered that we were watching the entrance of the caterers? Was it because of adversity
or perversity; or was it simply because the delegoats themselves were all so much more
than twenty-five that they burst into loud and profane applause as we finished singing
Pallas Athene? Would any one under twenty-five have chosen, as did Miss Helen Strong
Hoyt, to manifest her complete independence by firmly and forcibly plumping down in her
chair at the end of the second line of the Star Spangled Banner? It was clearly an adversity
that, after our weeks of practice, we had to omit the singing of “ Manus Bryn Mawrensium”’
because, as Miss Thomas announced, “three of the college presidents broke their solemn
promises and spoke more than ten minutes.” The only question here is, who suffered by
this omission, ourselves or the delegoats? Another case of mixed adversity was when
Joy Tomlinson, always a restless student, dropped the history note-book, from which she
had expected to derive great profit, out of the gallery neatly astride the bonnet of a gentle
little Quakeress below. The universities we managed to keep pretty straight, on the whole,
though one student possessed of a feminine feeling for style did have difficulty in finding
out which one gave Dr. Furness the brass trumpet which gave such a nice finishing touch
to his scarlet costume. After all, though, other universities and any number of adversities
didn’t matter in the least, for it really was our twenty-fifth anniversary; we had come
into our collegiate majority; and we had learned more about the Star-Spangled Banner
than we ever knew before.
Exreanor Bontecov.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 37
The Primrose ath; or, The Light that Failed
HERE were to have been two articles: Lantern Night, the lantern night of our
Sophomore year described with delicacy, precision and nicely-weighed sentiment by
Olga, and the Primrose Path, a witty account of the rise and fall of the flower trade
at Bryn Mawr as observed by Louisa Henderson. From the latter came a sad note to
say she couldn’t possibly write; from the former only unbroken silence. One of the
articles might have been omitted; but the loss of both would mean unseemly slimness
for the Class Book. Which should the editor write up? The Primrose Path is always
alluring, yet, after due consideration, there really doesn’t seem to be much to say about it;
Lantern Night, or»the other hand, furnishes plenty of good, solid, reliable material; but
when one thinks of those cold, damp, cheerless mornings, when, sleepily, we croaked through
the cloisters led by Katharine Stout doggedly banging a dishpan, the path to it seems
uncommonly thorny. Suddenly there came a thought—Why not combine the two titles
in one which should be an eternal reproach to the delinquent contributors, then under
the kindly generality of the resultant heading insert all those things which really ought
to be in the Class Book but for which there was no room elsewhere, those incidents which,
as the title suggests, have made our way through college more flowery or have dimmed
the light of our spirits according to the predominance in them of comedy or tragedy?
First of all, there is Rosa’s historic trip to Denbigh in Freshman year. She was
welcomed by 1913 and—so they thought—treated right royally. They entertained her
throughout the evening, gave her a good bed to sleep in, and fed her the next morning.
Then as she was about to leave she made in calm, judicial tones, this, her only comment:
“There is one thing I like about Denbigh and that is the bathrooms.” Yet in spite of
those tubs she has not spent a night in Denbigh since.
It should not, I think, be forgotten how, when Alice Hearne suddenly disappeared, after
breaking her nose the second time, and was being sought for high and_ low, she was finally
discovered in the Lost and Found office—sic vicit Monty! How Mary Tongue set the seal
“THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
c an er ee ee
should, nevertheless, be
Re ash Ga ast bs ook en ely
Louisa Haydock’s benefit. _ No automobiles were allowed to come on the campus Com-
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 39
jRon-RWestdent Wife
(Speech given at Sophomore Supper)
O the Residents the Non-Residents represent the Great Unknown,—how appallingly
unknown we realize when a Senior inquires of us concerning the mysteries of our
lunch room, which she has never seen; or when an athletic “celebrity” is heard to
exclaim: “What! Do you have to register regular exercise?”
You see us straggling in and out at all hours of the day and evening, in our arms a
pile of books, and on our faces an expression of dogged determination—whether not to miss
a college education or not to miss the next train is uncertain. Those of you who have to
consult us semi-annually on such official business as class dues have discovered that we
are not easier to find than other unknown quantities: we may be anywhere,—which is
the tragedy of our situation.
Though necessarily a floating population, we were not always so completely unattached
as you see us now. Once the present Christian Association room was our study, but it,
disappeared, chair by chair. Finding ourselves dislodged we protested mildly, and were
assigned a room on the lower floor of Merion—a vacant room with a vacant book-case.
As we seemed unable to find our new quarters and always got into the doctor’s office by
mistake, we soon ceased going there; and now, when we have studied long enough at the
library desks to feel like so many eggs in a crate, we are reduced, if we would have change,
to withdrawing to the cloak room; there to hang ourselves up on our one hook, or tuck
ourselves into our allotted cubby-hole. One of us—there is room for only one of us—may
be found reclining on the umbrella-stand, at least on clear days when there are no
umbrellas there.
A real difficulty, too, is the matter of clothes; it is not easy to dress at 7.00 a. M. in
the city according to what we think the weather may be some hours later in the country.
Our choice of garments is painfully irrevocable; for if the day begins bleak and cheerless,
and we, thinking of how Rock arch on a windy morning, sucks us in like a vacuum
cleaner, wear our fur coats, it is probably to find, when we reach college, that the weather
40 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
has moderated, and that our classmates, having detected premature signs of spring, are
appearing in blazers. Or else, on a warm morning when we have grown so envious of your
light frocks and white shoes that we boldly defy convention and come out in the train
dressed likewise, there follows a rain storm —and soggy linen, and shoes without “Blanco!”
Yet there are many compensations in non-resident life. We do not, like you, have
to entertain our suitors in the public eye. Think of the aquarium-like reception rooms
of Pembroke! And there are dances, and theatres, and all the frivolity that helps us to
disguise the fact that we are in college at all. For certainly the higher education is a
tremendous social drawback—one must hide it like a “dark past.” You have all noticed
that a man no sooner hears that you are from Bryn Mawr than his conversation begins—
and ends—with the questions: “Are you in favor of equal suffrage?” and “Do you know
Miss Taft?”
Beatrice Natuans.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 41
Egypt and the Plaques
NG in loco Mariae Sheldonis sumus. For which please compare prologue of article
entitled Endowment Fund. The only reason our Editor-in-chief did not have this
one left out when our contributor failed us, is because she thought the title was so
good. The title, by the bye, is hers. We shall do as little as possible to spoil it.
As a class of course we have direct connection with Egypt in the matter of mummies.
You will remember that we were going to have a chorus of mummies in our Freshman
Show; but did not in the end because someone said we should not jest with our class
song. We were in danger in those early days of taking ourselves seriously, but lived
to outgrow this. We compromised on a chorus of chickens who spent a lamentable few —
hours lying on their backs unable to move without assistance. Perhaps the mummies
would have been a more humane performance after all. But what the title has reference
to, is not mummies probably, but President Thomas’s trip to the Nile Anno Domini Nine-
teen hundred and eleven. In her absence the supply of marrons failed for the Senior Class
and the Plague descended on the college.
No one can have forgotten the chapel which we were all urged at breakfast to attend,
and some did attend too—including the choir. Simultaneously with Dean Reilly’s little
announcement, a slight tremour passed over the attentive rows which was noted by the
Scribe as being merely the effort of everyone to remove herself from her neighbour on the
left without sitting too near her neighbour on the right.
Dean Reilly was more impressionable than Pharaoh; or else we were more obnoxious
than the Israelites, because it took ten plagues to move his heart and only one our
Dean’s. Moreover, we are popularly supposed to have left inside of fifteen minutes,
which makes our track meet records seem insignificant.
Then hospitality vast was shown! “I'll risk it if you will,” was the cry and guests
were taken in by tens and scores.
Now the real heroine of this great emotional experience was Mary Sheldon, but as the
Scribe did not then want to understudy Mary’s particular part, but fled the college with
the rest, she is not now prepared to play Mary’s particular réle in this book.
We ask your clemency; at least we have rescued the title from oblivion. ANON.
42 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
The Dilver Wlade; or, Che Wlighting of the Cherry Wlooms,
or, Watls from Waelness
Che Sophomore lap
Saturday night, November 12, 1913, gave its Sophomore play, and the gallery,
sitting again as interested censor, was puzzled. They hesitated, whether to criti-
cise or ignore the very evident demerits in the story of a love that throve in a spring
garden of cherry blossoms and moonlight; of a silver blade that made three
ineffectual attempts to stab; of a clerk’s emphatic fall at the feet of his queen;
of a court plunged into despair and mourning—then curtain! But one cannot
blame the actors for the playwright’s inadequacy. Rather, one must needs praise
them as they deserve. SO the gallery applauded. Lucile Perkins, as Guinevere,
played a difficult part—a part that in a gesture might have become that of a
towering “tragedy queen’’—and played it with such moderation and restraint as
to make Guinevere simply a very human girl queen, doubting, perplexed, harassed.
Lucile Shadburne was delightful, and the gallery applauded again when she pulled
a battered faded Folly, still jangling of May-day, from behind the queen’s throne.
The rather difficult detail work of the play was carried out carefully and exactly—
and Margaret Blaine, stage manager, well deserves our congratulations.
M. B: A., 12.
F they had but known that the love of Edric the clerk throve not in a spring garden of
| cherry blossoms and moonlight but in a sterile gym under coaches’ curses; that the
silver blade made three ineffectual attempts to stab only after it had made fifty inef-
fectual attempts nightly for a month and broken its spring from desperate plunges; that
the clerk’s emphatic fall had been made only at the price of bruised knees and a lame body,
would they have applauded more or less? Would the floor have applauded? If the critic
had taken English a year longer at Bryn Mawr College, would the reader have been able
to tell whether “simply” qualifying “a very human girl queen, doubting, perplexed,
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 43
harassed”? was meant to compliment or no? Saturday night, December 12th, the Tipyn
o’ Bob gave its criticism of the Sophomore play, and the cast, sitting as interested censor,
was puzzled.
Marcaret GRAHAM BLAINE.
P. S. To those who may be interested, the floor did not applaud as its appreciation
was to live in the yearly comment of Professor Donnelly.
N. B.—We would like to state that to us to-day the Tip’s criticism does not seem so crushing as it did in December, 1910.—Eprrors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Wseudo-Tip
A reprint of the special number of the Tip issued at Sophomore Class supper.
Sestina Villanous
nm EP,
“Out of the dark tarn-sodden ©
Into the night
Faces that vanish and turn again
Amethyst-white,”’
Dimmer than snow grown old,
Dully enrapt
The shallows purple and gold
Ineffably trapped.
Rapturous sweetnesses rise
Harmonious pain
And the measureless sighs
Of the spirits of rain
Skyey planets empower
Opaline gleams
A moon-blanched, odourless flower
Wafted by dreams.
* * * * * * * *
And as I looked came silently one
Wanly he smiled
Like that misshapen harbinger the sun
Or like a child.
eG.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 45
Voices in the Dark
Vik ©.
IR JOHN held the ring in the palm of his hand. He appeared to be closely and
cogently observing it, but alas he could only feel the diamonds which gleamed with
hypnotic brilliancy, for his sightless eyes knew neither light nor color.
“This is my inheritance,” he burst forth bitterly. ‘And this
hands across his eyes.
In his darkness he could not see the gleam which passed over the cruel face of his
friend. His was a shadowed world rimmed with black and thronging with grotesque
shapes. :
“Laurence,” he said, “surely you can—you must cure me. Europe rings with your
praises; you are the master physician. I need my sight—for I must marry Lucy. Her
sweet voice alone has made my darkness endurable; if I might but once see her angel face
I know that I should be happy ever after. This priceless ring, upon the possession of which
the good fortune of the Waters is said to depend, this is all that I have.” His tone was
bitter. “Cure me, Laurence, and you shall have it.”
He turned with a face full of the hungry pleading of dumb beasts to the man at the
window. His world had been hard to touch. It had turned from him in his piteous and
wistful craving for its patience and now with hollow smiles offered peace to his deadened
heart in this great doctor’s skill.
{Here I skip, for you will understand from previous Tips that Laurence who cherishes
a deep hatred for Sir John puts off the cure of his blindness upon one pretext or another,
while his victim weaves ideal day dreams about Lucy, and longs more and more for his
sight to come. Finally the critical moment comes, and we resume the narrative.]
The mists were rising, melting away like snow before the sun and the radiance stream-
ing from the West flooded the world. Sir John stood on the steps with his arms full of roses.
Suddenly he was aware of a lightness that penetrated his horizon. Shapes he had never
seen thronged before him. At first they were meaningless, unintelligible to him, and then
the blackness gave way and he realized with a throb of joy more acute than most intense
He passed his
46 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
pain that his sight was returning. And then he heard a step on the stair. He ran forward |
lightly, joyfully in the full consciousness of his new power and old love. Lucy came towards
him singing a gay little carol in the rich, full tones which had been his inspiration through
so many years of blankness. He stopped aghast—the eyes too closely set together, the
hanging lower lip, the haggard, sunken cheeks were those—of an idiot. So this was Laurence’s
revenge. He felt for the ring that he had given as a price for this moment of torture. It
was no longer there. His mind and senses became dulled. He stood like a man in a trance.
* * * * * ok * * * * *
A few minutes later he left the house. His step was firm and his head very erect as
he walked away. Beyond, the black river rolled silently, sullenly as it had always done.
A. G. H. and E. B.
N. B.—This class-book was edited, by the way, from Ward’s Island. There is no immediate connection.—Ep1tors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 47
Auninae Motes
é
yy)
48 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Sophomore Wear Athletics
Hockey
College championship won by
1911
1918 Captain—Auice HEARNE
Team
Joy ToMLINSON
Syntvia HatHaway
Louisa Haypock
AuiceE PATTERSON
KATHARINE PAGE
AuicE HEARNE
GertruDE Hrinricus
Mavup Dessau
Lyp1a STETSON
Cxiara Ponp
JEANNETTE MICHAEL
1913 on Varsity
KatTHariInE Pace
Louisa Haypock
Lyp1a STETSON
Gymnastic Contest
1913 vs. 1914. Won by 1913
Tennis
Class championship won by Amy
Gorpon Hamiiton
College championship won by
Amy Gorpon Hamitton
College championship in singles
won by 1913
College championship in doubles
won by 1913
1913 on Varsity
KatTuHarINE PacEe
Amy Gorpon HamiLton
Swimming
Captain—YvVoNNE STODDARD
Meet won by 1913
Records—
Plunge for distance: ELLEN
FauLKner, 49 ft. 7 in.
Water Polo
Captain—YvVONNE StTopDARD
College championship won by
1914
Crack
Captain—Lovisa Haypock
Meet won by 1911
Records—
Vault: Louisa Haypock, 4 ft.
10/ 4 in.
Basket-Ball
College championship won by
1913
1913 Captain—Mavp Dessau
Team
KATHARINE PacE
AaGNnEs O’ConNoR
GERTRUDE Hinricus
Mavup Dessau
Louisa Haypockx
Joy ToMLINSON
Sytvia Hatuaway
ELreanor Bontecou
JEANNETTE MICHAEL
1913 on Varsity
KarHariIne Pace
Louisa Haypock
Mavup Dessau
ELeanor Bontecou
Suntor Wear
Class Mfficers
President—KatTHARINE PAGE
Vice-President and Treasurer—Jesstn BUCHANAN Secretary—RAcCHEL STEELE
Offices eld by the Class
Self-Government Association. Executive Board—Jrsstx Crow BucHANAN
ELEANOR BontEcouU |
Advisory Board—Lucttn Perkins, FLoreENce Maup Dessau
Secretary—E.LLEN FAULKNER
Christian Association. Treasurer—ELEANOR BONTECOU
Athletic Association. Outdoor Manager—Lovuisa Low Haypock
Secretary—A.iceE HEARNE
Undergraduate Association. Vice-President and Treasurer—NaTHALIE SWIFT
Secretary—YVONNE STODDARD
Students’ Council—Auice Parrerson, FLoreNceE Maup Dessau
Equal Suffrage League. Vice-President—Amy GorDON HAMILTON
Secretary—Lovuisa Low Haypock
College Settlement Chapter. Elector—HeE.LEN Ricuter. Treaswrer—E.izaBeTH FaBian
Consumers’ League. President—Saran Henry ATHERTON
Philosophical Club. Wice-President and Treasurer—YVONNE STODDARD
Glee Club. Business Manager—Katuarine Stout
Mandolin Club. Business Manager—Marcaret GRAHAM BLAINE
Trophy Club. Treasurer—Saran Henry Atuerton Secretary—KaTuarine Axice Page
Lantern. Editor—Mary Van ArspALE TONGUE
Tipyn o’Bob. Managing Editor—Mary Van ArspaLe ToNGuE
Editor—Amy Gorvon Hamiuron (resigned)
Assistant Business Manager—Sarau ATHERTON
English Club. Exeanor Bontscou, Amy Gorpon Hamiuton, Ouca E. B. KEty,
Mary Van ArspaLe TONGUE
52 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Banner Show
HE first plan for Banner Show was that we should give an original opera. 1913 of
course could not sing, but carefully selected and skilfully joined melodies from the
standard operas, a ‘fine choice of motifs, etc., could not fail to please, no matter
what the vocal rendering of them might be. As chairman of the Banner Show Committee
I was delighted with the idea and submitted it at once to Miss Thomas. She was not as
enthusiastic as I had hoped, but advocated vaudeville. I pointed out that unfortunately
our parlor tricks were few and had already been used up in Freshman Show. Then Miss
Thomas explained that what she really wanted was to establish a precedent in banner
shows; something that might be handed down with the banner song, or that would go
in rotation like class colors. Immediately I pointed out that we too had some such scheme
at heart and so were following in the footsteps of 1911 and their famous operetta. This
settled the matter and Miss Thomas agreed to our plan on condition that no two people
rehearse together until the performance itself.
The subject of our opera was easy to find. Had not 1913 taken unto itself forever
the cause of Arthur and Guinevere? The college had jeered at the Silver Blade; now
we would turn the tables, steal their thunder and satirize ourselves in “‘ The Nickel-Plated
Blade: A Tragedy of Blood in Four Acts.” Grand opera melodies, unfortunately, had to
be abandoned, as Gordon and I seemed to have difficulty in remembering intact anything
but the Wedding March and the Anvil Chorus. However, we did manage to strike the
proper note in the beginning by using a melody from Aida; then we left it to the chorus
to maintain the classic tone of the piece. The chorus we felt was a master stroke; it was
to be esthetic and Grecian in simple white night-gowns with soft flowing cloaks. So at
least we planned, but the chorus flatly rebelled on grounds of vanity disguised as modesty.
Rosa and I argued hotly. Suddenly I found myself alone arguing hotly, and perforce yielded.
Later I heard that immediately after her abrupt exit Rosa was seen standing in the hall
of Pembroke silently and viciously thrusting thumb-tacks into the wall.
Our principals were beyond reproach, from the very beginning. Iki as Guinevere
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 53
could never be forgotten. As some one said, “She acted with all the abandon of 1912,”
and when, line after line, she came out with words at least ten syllables behind the music,
she saved an awkward situation by a timely interpolation of “classic dancing.” As for
Launcelot,—well, after seeing his broad back and knightly stride Julia went so far as to
say that she would never again consider herself an adequate representation of a man.
Is it, I wonder, because of 1913’s sense of propriety in a college community that since
then Mary has always been relegated to the rank of butler? The chorus, too, though not
in night-gowns, was highly applauded, especially for its spirited rendering of “He might
have been a Rooshan.” In fact 1913 was in characteristic high feather over what it con-
sidered the great success of its Banner Show. It experienced therefore a curious sensation
of flatness when it was whispered abroad the next year that 1914 had spoken violently in
class meeting against having its Banner Show “a little mess in a corner.” Perhaps, after
all, 1913 is better at breaking precedents than at making them.
ELeanor Bontecov.
54 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Reactions bp a Reactionary
ADMIT that the title is well-sounding:—the editors gave it to me. I should have
been glad if they had mentioned it sooner as I might have been able to use it to mystify
the one lucid spot of a Tip editorial. But aside from its sound it is worthless, meaning-
less as you please. I remember that according to Minor History, Bismarck was a reaction-
ary, Louis XVII was a reactionary, the popes in a lump were reactionary. All good,
conservative, law-abiding citizens who bewail the degeneracy of modern times and the
college-bred woman are reactionary. All good self-gov-abiding students who deplore the
slackening of a twenty-five-year-old tradition and all irrepressibly cheerful Freshmen are
reactionary. But I protest in my own defense as a mildly consistent radical, not a militant
but a member of a Suffrage Society; not a bomb-shooter but an assiduous attender of neigh-
boring socialist gatherings, I protest with all malice against the title. All my finer sensibil-
ities are outraged. I am by birth a Democrat, by disposition a kicker: these are not the
same thing. According to my psychological training I am well instructed that no reaction
is possible except as a response to present stimulus. Eleanor Bontecou is not present.
Three of her postals and one of her notes are somewhere about, at least unless they have
been mislaid in my wild efforts to dodge them around the country. But I feel assured
that no reactionary worth the name could react violently to three postals and one note.
In my days as Lantern slave I remember that special delivery letters failed of result
in stirrmg some of our most pen-fluent contributors. Three postals and one note are
not enough. There is no telegraph office within five miles. I am not a reactionary and
I will not react. I have said it.
Mary Toneve.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 55
The Little Minister
HERE must be a certain bald and shining satisfaction in looking over an unbroken
career of dramatic successes; at least we take the word of classes antecedent and
subsequent for the same, but we must insist that the light and shadow on our his-
trionic pathway through Bryn Mawr were more stimulating than would have been the
Broad White Way of unqualified success, attended by all the good fairy’s gifts. For two
years we gained experience painfully, and by Junior Year had only managed to acquire
a reputation for farcical acting. At last, however, we found the Little Minister which
Mr. Barrie must have written with 1913 in mind.. But at the outset our choice was dis-
couraging. The English Department made time honoured suggestions as to Campaspe
or the Knight of the Burning Pestle; Miss Thomas recommended a few suffrage plays and
Mr. King absolutely threw us over. But our manager was firm, clung to the Little Minister
and picked out the leading characters as by intuition. In most cases Margaret’s system
seemed to be, to pick out the most unlikely person for a part and then train her to it.
There is much value in the system and a philosophy of life may be evolved. Those minor
ones of us who were solemn by nature—as Ellen, Rosa* and Josephine Brown, became
comedians. Maud made a formidable father and Beatrice—but then we know even better
now how Beatrice can act! I need not tell of Gavin’s success, but perhaps Margaret’s
master stroke was Babbie or Pagie—I hardly know which to call her. It was a clear case
of dual personality, expanded into triple in her réle of Lady Barbara. No one but Margaret
guessed the secret before the play, none of us has been able to forget it since.
There were vicissitudes many, but none fatal. The fire scorched the scenery but
might have burned it to the ground; the horn blew strangely but might not have blown
at all; the key was the wrong key but might have been no key; cues were forgotten and
might not have been forgiven.
“Aweel. It’s a weara warld, Tammas, but it’s not sae weara as it might hae been.”
Marcaret Munroe.
* Norr.—Rosa denies that she is solemn by nature.—Eprtors.
56 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Frenzied Finance; or, A Mind that Found Itself
HE editor of this book must proceed in the same fashion that I do when about to
compose English, i.e., think out a title that sounds well, and then try to find out
what it means. With what conscientious and scrupulous care I pursued denotations
and connotations, my membership in the Hinglish Club proves. But the editor is unfair,
for I protest (being a member of the sturdy band of progressives) that it is an injustice
to fling a title at a poor mortal’s head, and then sit back in the editor’s easy chair,
chuckling, while the author writhes!
But to get down to the real business in hand. For four years I have laboured in
ignorance of what was wrong with me. Only now have I found out. Like the devotees
of patent medicine who recognize their own symptoms when reading the inviting advertise-
ment of a new nostrum, I have discovered mine described in the dictionary. Here it is:
“A frenzy is a violent agitation of the mind, approaching to a temporary derangement
of the mental faculties.” So, then, it was from a frenzy that I was suffering when at
1.27 a. M. on the night before the class meeting, at which Pagie had politely intimated that
a treasurer’s report would be acceptable, after having added and subtracted frantically,
for the fourteenth time, I again could not get an amount to come within ten cents of the
bank-book balance! In despair I would throw down my pen, turn to my room-mate (and
here let me caution all treasurers to learn in advance the mathematical abilities of pros-
pective room-mates. Believe me, they may profit thereby) and plead for help. With a
sweet condescension, carefully repressed—but I felt it just the same,—she would set to.
How I would triumph, carelessly concealing it, if her sum did not agree with the bank’s;
but this rarely happened, I am bound to confess. If, then, the sums agreed, I felt an
indescribable relief, but to make sure that it was right, I would go to find another trust-
worthy mathematician. Now in spite of Merion’s reputation they were scarce at that
hour, and usually I would turn up, with a shamefaced air, at Yvonne’s, who always was.
at home then. She would perform mental gymnastics with her eyes closed and then
announce a sum. With the strictness of a public accountant I would compare the three
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 57
amounts. They always were right, and so, much humbled, I would retreat to struggle to
find my mistakes. Invariably they were painfully obvious, but my friends, with that
gracious courtesy for which Merion is justly famous, have hidden my faults. I feel,
however, that the truth should be told; the public must know all. And so I confess that,
had it not been for my considerate friends, the derangements of my mental faculties might
not have been temporary, and this article could not boast as a sub-title: A mind that found
itself.
N. B.—It seems fitting to announce here that in future an adding machine will always
be a part of my household equipment. Sie vicit scientia.
Jessie Crow BucHANAN.
58 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Suntor-Sentor Supper
T may seem strange that Junior-Senior Supper should be written of by one who did not
appear at that function until the dessert had been served; but, then, one of the dis-
tinguishing marks of the supper was the absence of Juniors. Moreover, the unique
events of the evening happened after the clearing of the table. These events should be
recorded, in order to show what 1913 can do when given free rein. First of all came the news
that we had neglected to get the Junior-Senior supper cup out of the bank. After all,
I doubt if any one but Julia would have noticed that her daisies were passed to her
in the cup of the defunct chess club. Still we had lived through a few awful moments
and the consequent shattering of our nerves must have partially accounted for the rest
of our fatal blunders that evening. Why else should Dotty have begun singing “Here’s
to Julia Haines, drink her down” instead of “Long may she live and thrive,” a mistake
realized by no one until we reached the middle and the awful necessity of a rhyme was
borne in upon us? Fortunately Julia was gracious and from then on started our songs
for us. The class songs went quite smoothly and we really were getting quite into the
proper Junior-Senior supper swing by the time we came to “Thou Gracious.” We thought
then that all was safe, but we reckoned without 1913. Dotty, it happened, was suffering
from the remnants of a bad cold. She was game, though, and a bit on her mettle perhaps
in the little impromptu contest of song-leaders. So she took a deep breath and opened her
mouth to pitch “Thou Gracious.” Alas, there came forth a sound, mighty indeed, but
“such as never was on land or sea,’’—a deep, booming roar that might have been uttered
by Bottom competing for the part of Lion. Julia again came to our rescue with a note,
but as we sang the trembling of our voices was not due to the emotions proper to a Junior-
Senior Supper.
ELEANOR Bontecovu.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 59
Hockey
College championship won by
1912
1913 Captain—Auicr HEARNE
Team
LucinpA MENENDEZ
Carissa BROCKSTEDT
Louisa Haypock
Ciara Ponp
KarTHariInE Pace
AuiceE HEARNE
GERTRUDE HiInricHs
YVONNE STODDARD
Maup Dessau
AicE PATTERSON
Jressir BucHANAN
1913 on Varsity
Lovisa Haypock
GERTRUDE HINRICHS
KaTHARINE PAGE
Puntor Wear Athletics
Tennis
Class championship in singles
won by 1915
Class championship in doubles
won by 1914
Class Champion — KaTHARINE
Auicr Pace
1913 Captain—A.icr PaTrTtERsoN
College Champion—Rutu Har-
INGTON
Swimming
Meet won by 1914
1913 Captain—YvoNNE Srop-
DARD
Water Pols
1913 Captain—YvonneE Stop -
DARD
College championship won by
1914
Track
1913 Captain—Louisa Hay-
DOCK
Meet won by 1912
Records—
Running Hop, Step and Jump—
GERTRUDE Hinricus, 31 ft.
1 in.
Bagket-Ball
College championship won by
1913
1913 Captain—FiorENce Maup
Dessau
Team
KATHARINE PAGE
GeErRTRUDE HinrIcuHs
Mavup Dessau
Louisa Haypock
Luctnpa MENENDEZ
ELEANOR BontTEcOU
JEANNETTE MICHAEL
1913 on Varsity
KATHARINE Pace
Louisa Haypock
Mavup Dessau
ELEANOR BoNTECOU
Substitute, GertRUDE Hinricus
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Senior Wear
Class Officers
President—KaTHARINE ALICE Pace
Vice-President and Treasurer—Jesstz Crow BUCHANAN
Secretary—GracE BARTHOLOMEW
Dffices held bp the Class
Self-Government Association. President—Jrsstz Crow BucHAaNAN
Vice-President—FLorENcE Mavup Dessau
Advisory Board—He.en Barrett, Heven Len, Auice Patrerson, Lucite Perkins
Christian Association. President—ELeaNor BontTECOU
Vice-President—Manrsorin Frances Murray
Athletic Association. President—Lovuisa Low Haypock
Indoor Manager—Gerrtrupve Hinricus
Undergraduate Association. President—Natuauie Swirt
Students’ Council—Fiorpence Maup Dessau, Marcaret GRAHAM BLAINE
Equal Suffrage League. President—EuLeEN FAuLKNER
Advisory Board—Otea FE. B. Keiiy
College Settlement Chapter. Elector—Hr.en Ricuter
Philosophical Club. President—Marcarret GRAHAM BLAINE
Students’ Building Committee. Chairman—Saran Henry ATHERTON
Science Club. President--ELLEN FAULKNER
Secretary—Lovisa IsaBEL GIBSON
History Club. President—Mary SHELDON
Vice-President—EpNA PortTER
Glee Club. Leader—Dororura pr Forest BALDWIN
Trophy Club. President—Saran Henry ATHERTON
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Lantern. Editor-in-Chief--YvoNNE Stopparp. Editor—E.LeEanor BontTEecou
Business Manager—Katuarine DELANO WILLIAMS
Tipyn o’ Bob. Editor-in-Chief—Mary Van ArspALE TONGUE
Assistant Business Manager—Saran ATHERTON (resigned)
English Club. President—Otea Krtty—E.Eeanor Bontecou
Amy Gorpon Hamitron, Yvonne Stopparp, Mary VAN ARSDALE TONGUE
European Fellow—YvonNe StToppARD
The First Ten—Eteanor Bontecov, Dorotuea Ciinton, YvoNNE STODDARD,
Beatrice Miter, Cecire Barcuitr, Natuauis Swirt, ADELAIDE
Simpson, Epna Potter, AuicE Parrerson, MARGARET BLAINE
JOermanent Dfficers
President—KatTHARINE ALICE PAGE
Secretary—NatTHALIE Swirt
Treasurer—JEssie Crow BucHANAN
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 65
Sentor Receptions
Sn Tey receptions are not noted in the Catalogue; I forget whether they are posted
in Taylor. But they are as inevitable and relentless as Orals. I, even I, who attended
but twice under the supervision of my friends, am here to say that they must be
experienced to be believed. I have tried to describe them to other friends in the full blast
of a social career, and they have received my unvarnished statements as jokes; which shows
that they were not in that state of grace in which they could safely be permitted to enjoy
entertainments so exclusive. We entered college intellectually unregenerate, and only
after a long variety of hardships among required courses did we find a professor here and
there who was disposed to make the most of us under the circumstances and permit us to
enjoy his major courses. But we had both foreseen and been warned that mentally we
must advance by slow development toward the academic standard. What we did not
realize till the last was that our social evolution had likewise been gradual, and no less
systematic. When we secretly, or openly as it may be, rebelled against Freshmen rules
we thought the régime of their tyranny a temporary annoyance. Even when as Freshmen
in the solemncholy grandeur of our first attendance at Senior tea parties we collapsed silently
in the furthest corner and endured with silence unintelligible discourses of dead “snaps,”
past professors, and other matters of defunct interest, even then we thought other times
were on their way. We learned to crush and brutally discard all evidences of what else-
where might have passed creditably as social grace. It became as nothing to us that we
sat with wooden mien in the seat next a guest of honor, and serenely turned our backs.
Mechanically our hands grasped at door fastenings, our feet took the straight path regard-
less of all obstacles that we must kick aside. Repression, social repression, had set its seal
upon us; we cared not at whom we glared. As our manners hardened, likewise our diges-
tions. In time, without blinking an eyelash, we became acclimated to any food at any
time. Was it not Denbigh that hurled its cosmetics in the saucepan and served them
up as midnight fudge? For three long years silently but relentlessly, as is the way of social
forces, we were being transformed. Then came the first Senior Reception. We were ready.
66 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
We went, we sat, we ate, we left. No voice was raised for pleasure, but only when duty
most demanded. The social ice was unbroken. I defy you to produce, without similar
training an equal body of young women who would take such an occasion as we took it.
We knew that evening dresses were expected of us; silently and with chagrin we allowed
ourselves to be pulled into our first, second, or third best evening dress, as our consciences
directed, and proceeded in a mob to the door. It was as if Taylor had rung a summons
unheard except by us. With whispers we laid our cloaks aside and proceeded with regularity,
though without marking time, each to a place within the circle. And as maiden after
maiden sank into her place there appeared upon her face that light of inner contemplation
that dawns usually with the falling of silence in a Quaker meeting. The lecture room
habit asserted itself, without pen in hand our attention was unfettered. But our decorum
was that of a throne room, lofty, sublime and impersonal. The face of each, fixed dimly
on vacancy, seemed to descry thereabouts the glorious future of new woman, to spy an
evanescent promise in the shifting sands of time. And then, a figure in the background
that has hovered for pause in the accompanying discourse, makes unmistakable signs that
something is wanted without and eight young ladies are reluctantly dismissed to gratify
the void. Such young ladies are suddenly turned loose upon hot chocolate, and cold punch,
ices and cakes and marrons, and the calm is rent asunder. The divine afflatus, or the
breath of inspiration, call it what you will, the still emotion that has held the whole group
in rapt inspection of their shoe buckles, is gone. Restlessness almost disturbs the large
room; some of the vestals twitch and turn as if actually counting the room in eights, while
ripples and gurgles of merriment openly resound from beyond. Soon other eights leave;
and only fragments of eights return. On the faces of some of these is a look of joy, which
is replaced by the decorous composure, befitting the consideration of the evening’s topic;
and in the hands of some (oh tell it gently) are marrons pressed that grow warm and sticky
long ere the goodbye comes. That goodbye in itself; is it not a triumph of artful practice?
Scarce a look, hardly a gesture, and the class, unanimous and unbroken, has stood upon
its feet and begun its slight demonstration of farewell. All is over and the grades will
never be published. Tradition has taught us that a degree is cancelled for less than the
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 67
two attendances which presumably give an obligatory sixty. Miss Page, Miss Hamilton,
and particularly Miss Blaine on the subject of domestic service, are thought to have been
rated particularly high and received special mention. Of course years upon years must
go to perfecting that savoir faire which rises above all enjoyment to the basis of pure utility.
Now lest any one should accuse me, vulgarly speaking, of looking a gift horse in the mouth,
or using the bird’s own salt to put on its tail, let me explain that without wishing to carp,
one grievance does rest upon my soul. On my final appearance at one of these exclusive
social functions I nerved myself to break the shell of my diffidence and make a remark.
I spoke, but nobody heard, or if they heard, nobody noticed. These observations, in
parting let me suffix, are made from the farm to which I have returned to resume my old
seat on the stile. Although in all probability no social function will ever lure me in future
from my den I am not unthankful for the unique social training I have received. Come
what may I feel prepared. Nothing could surprise me now. Also I remember, that for
her who chose with care, a comfortable chair was to be come by. And, last of all, I would
commemorate the truly cordial treatment I always received from the butler (whose first
name I do not know) and from Elizabeth.
Mary Toncue.
jae
68 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Class Statistics
RITING this on Ward’s Island, the division of people into different classes used
\) here first comes to my mind, but, since “senile dementia” is the shortest and
most comprehensible classification that occurs, this category is obviously unsuited.
Miss Thomas, too, in spite of her famous mot that though she had seen all the antiquities
of Egypt, she had found nothing equal to the Bryn Mawr undergraduate, I feel sure would
object to graduates of Bryn Mawr being grouped thusly. The only other classification
I know is Ruth George’s Track method, and this not only would be flagrant plagiarism, but
also the only event I can think of is
Faculty Dash; first place in professor’s affections, JOSEPHINE COCKRELL
Kirry Perkins a close second.
Aside from my own lack of originality there is a still more important reason for 1913’s
not being classified or “staticized.” Other classes may lend themselves readily to a system-
atic investigation or may be noted for predominating types (or type), but 1913’s never;
—it remains a heterogeneous mass. It can only be characterized once, even then not as a
whole but in small squads.
Radnor boasts some of our cleverest,—Adelaide and Clarissa. It contains a gentle
but firm head-proctor, Helen Barrett. But although all this points to a very high mental
and moral calibre, do not suppose that mind has completely triumphed over matter beneath
these “ivy-covered towers.” Radnor’s proudest moment is at meal-time when the evident
superiority of its culinary achievements is manifested. Rock contains some of our most
brilliant talent, for its inhabitants are the only members of the class, beside Pagie and
Gordon, who ever write class-songs; i.e., for such great and touching occasions as a Farewell
Picnic to 1911 or Junior-Senior Supper. It also is noted for accomplishing what it sets
out to do. Rachel is the best example of this. Upon being told that all she had to do
was to walk slowly across the stage when she was one of the Three Queens in the “mess
in the corner,” she did not even wait for Arthur to die. She advanced slowly and obsti-
nately in spite of the combined efforts of two husky screen-shifters to hold her back. She
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 69
emerged from her entrance to mourn over and to confront a living and dismayed Arthur.
Her widow’s weeds were in disarray but she was triumphant. Merion is the seat of cleanli-
ness and true class and sister-class spirit. What more need be said? As for Pembroke,
it contains a motley crew from Nat and Maud, who always know what is right, to Sarah,
who wants to, and Mary, who pretends she doesn’t want to. Pem has been called the seat
of feuds, but I maintain that this is unfair. Peaceful is our middle name. (N.B.—For
the benefit of one of the editors [See Denbigh] this is modern slang.) Only one very striking
instance of temper was seen and that not a bad one. D. Blake who goes to bed at 8.30,
was once awakened at 9.20 by laughter in the hall. She bounced angrily out of bed, flung
open her door and flew into the hall, minus kimono, hushing violently, and confronted
Marion Crane and Leila. No one will doubt that Denbigh is the fount* of mental excellence
and some moral excellence. Jessie, however, resides in Merion. If you wish to know
any more of the Denbighites’ characteristics see Betty Fabian’s Table Conversation.
Rosa V. Mason.
*Joint, the printer calls it. We are glad that at least he did not qualify it by that opprobrious adjective cheap.—Ep1tTor.
70 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Che Spirit of Dverwork
HEN I was asked to write an article on overwork, I sat down in the window at
22 Merion, chewed my pen for half an hour, and then wrote one sentence.
“Overwork is like a college centipede; it is a popular topic of conversation, and
has as many branches as the centipede has legs.” That is as far as I got, and now, six
weeks later, I find the article still before me. That original sentence, however, is to be a
true topic sentence—and the important point stands at the end. Overwork has a’ great
number of branches to-day. In college there is the overworked athlete, the overworked
grind, and even the overworked social favorite—to say nothing of the overworked jokes.
In the bigger world outside there are the overworked shop girls, the overworked laborers
and numerous others about whom the social workers are able to tell. Indeed to-day the
spirit of work seems to be a germ which is rapidly spreading. Bryn Mawr, always anxious
to be in the lead, caught it early and rapidly assimilated it until we hardly realized that it
was not a native growth. The feeling of overwork may be a result of the economic pressure
of our times, but in any case is not a pleasant sensation, as everyone knows, and it is
mentally depressing. At least let us console ourselves then, with the thought that every
person who is willing and anxious to work will always find plenty of work to be done—and
a good many who are not anxious will find it also.
Epna M. Porter.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 71
Ski Ap Pkt
[We print the following exactly as Iki wrote it. She apparently grew tired
at the end, so it is unfortunately not finished.]
Y experience on the first day of my lab. in Biology I can never forget. Upon
entering the room with quaking knees I was pushed by a crowd of rough Freshmen
already complaining of imaginary, odoriferous animals which they suspected to
be hidden in the drawers. At this instant a small and precise lady gently came forward
and raising her small hands to her chest clapped them rhythmically three times.
“Please everyone take her seat.’”’ Thereupon the crowd began to push each other
again; and I took the seat against which some of these athletes with great muscle shoved
me.
When the class began I soon found that others were having difficulty like myself over
butterfly-wings. At the same table with me sat a goggly-eyed, muscular girl in neat, white
shirtwaist and linen skirt, and a black ribbon magnanimously shooting to the sides of her
head. She also was having difficulties. Now and then she would giggle. Beside her sat
a plump, red-cheeked, blue-eyed girl who in attempt to manipulate the microscope swore
in a gentle manner. Soon she stopped with a melancholy sigh to cry out:
“O say, Louisa, what in the Dickens are we to see in this thing?”
The true type of muscularity and cheerfulness grinned and with a vigorous gesture
of the arms:
“Do not ask me, Sylvia. This is one too much for my brain. The directions say
‘examine scales carefully.’ I have examined carefully but it does not tell me what it is
I see.”
“Seales,” I murmur to myself. ‘I thought fish were the only mammals that have
scales.”
A few weeks after this Dr. Tennent began to entertain us with drop quizzes. We all
rushed, pale and trembling, out of Dalton like a cloud of lost sheep. Our marks were not
high in drop quizzes—5—10 perhaps—one member distinguished herself by getting 10
72 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
for the first quiz and 25 for the second; and was informed by Dr. Tennent that she had
improved admirably.
The next year we were instructed to kill frogs, but owing to slimness of external struc-
ture were obliged to spend much time chasing after the escaped ones. Often the chase
was assisted by Daddy Warren, who puffed and coughed as he crawled under the table
for a hopping toad.
In our Junior year very few of our class took Bi. and for the first time the work was
serious.* I have therefore not much to tell, except that every animal I experimented with
died, leaving me finally with very few to work with.
Our Senior year, however, brought me to Major Chemistry lab., famous for its noise
and breaking pipes. The water often descended on Dr. Joseph and Dr. Tennent, which
interrupted the monotony of our existence. Also by conflagrations. Ella took fire and
was blown out by Dr. Brunell. Ellen Faulkner was nearly choked to death by the
pungent fumes of Phosphorus Chloride. I myself was so unfortunate as not to take Bi. lab.
Senior year, but must mention the great eventful day when the whole physiological chem-
istry class celebrated themselves in taking to the stomach pump.
Thus, when I look back in my mind to both Chemistry and Biology departments,
that comes to me——
Marian Ixt Irwin.
* We do not think Iki meant this as a reflection on 1913.—Eprtors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 73
Hobbies or Hoops? or, 1913 and Mress
HE material glory of 1913 might give rise to a number of thoughts. These, however,
as usual after four years of training are lacking in unity, mass, coherence, clearness,
force and ease. Are we not, however, approaching another era where these six
mossy pillars of that great and reverend construction, the Bryn Mawr English Department,
may give way, a weakening being visible in one of those “innermost dwellers” in her appre-
ciation of Cubist and Futurist? Thus I put down the significance of my thoughts, their
essence is there, “infinitely satisfying’ or no. “‘Suggestion,”’ the art critic says, is the key-
note of the age. Whether you turn the page feeling that it is a good thing 1913 is so well-
dressed, or, like the misanthrope of old who inveighed against the “bead-bands”’ and
“ear-rings,”’ “the wimples and crisping pins,” you feel that “it shall come to pass instead
of well-set hair baldness,” it must suggest something, anything.
Plato says that there is nothing quite so satisfying as harmony, outward beauty of
form with inward purity, and beauty entering into both when the “same great pattern
entereth into both.”’ (One of the few remnants of a Hudson course that I can remember,
yet benighted ones in the home town still have the nerve to ask what is the use of a girl’s
going to college.) From this it would seem 1913 was on the right track. A motto, how-
ever, that we painted in our paper-doll house long before we even took Latin and when
paper dolls were the reality of life, “esse quam videri,” would seem to contradict Plato.
(But it really does not.) It may be of course that Plato referred more to the natural wave
than that of the curling iron. 1913 has been firm if mistaken in helping out nature; its hair
must wave on certain occasions, though it may straggle notoriously on the hockey-field.
The next allusion that comes is “all that glistens is not gold,”’ to be applied at the
pleasure of the individual. Someone lilted something about “a sweet disorder in the
dress” that is taken too seriously at times. Is it stated in the same poem,—if not it might
be,—that to such charm distance lends enchantment? After seeing some of those most
respected members of 1913 decked out as Fiji Islanders can we any longer hold that only man
is vile? Yes, the subject of 1913 plus that of dress is too vast, my mind totters. First I
74 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
think of Stout’s cerise-lined hat in Freshman year, then that there must be something pat
in Sartor Resartus if I had only read it. I think of my dictionary of quotations packed with
note-books in the freight box in the stable, then of Pagie’s yellow dress that she wore at
Senior receptions.* I think one minute of the dressy reputation of 1913, then of my brother’s
expression when he saw my trunk open. I hear in one ear “too much thought for such
things interferes with the higher life of the intellect;’’ in the other “if we had sent her to
boarding school she might have slightly more feeling for order in her clothes than she
has now.”
We ran to hobbles, were too wise to attempt really running in them. We would hobble
in hobbles to the station week-end after week-end—when without loaf or thou, we found
it “Paradise Enow.” Our non-resident tendency some link with our propensities in dress-
ing. We faced the question unconsciously “hobbles or hoops?”? We had hobbles for four
years. We would not have looked well in hoops—we only wanted them for a little while
on one day, and we filled that void with the spirited rendering of
“You may push the damper in,
You may pull the damper out,
But the smoke goes up the chimney just the same.”
While pulling my hair and wondering what to say a package is brought. It turns out to
be the senior picture! I gaze into each sparkling eye a-squint with the glare of the setting
sun. We are all neatly, unobtrusively clad in white waists and skirts. We entered in
trains, we were cocky. We go out out in cap and gown; the question of training has become
more inward.
If you are really interested in dress you can look at Vogue, or Sartor Resartus, or the
publication mentioned in this week’s Punch, “the sort of woman gentlemen like;” but,
Seniors, if so, your looks belie you. When we all come back in 2913 or possibly sooner we
may have hoops, or bustles, or negligées (like 1912’s reunion costume), or something as
yet quite undreamed of, but 1913 will be just the same, only everyone will find the others
*The connection here is not obvious to us. We trust that the author means nothing disparaging.—EprrTors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 75
much nicer even than she remembered. This last gush is out of taste, I admit, but 1913
must make allowance for the “‘still emotion” so hopelessly pent up by the jeers of years.
Now guess whether this article is a nude coming down stairs (peculiarly a subject,
I should say, for consideration in this article), or a fire engine, or a “head-ache.” I promise
you it is one of the three.
SaRAH ATHERTON.
N. B.—This article was not written on Ward’s Island. There is no immediate connection. The title of the article was our
own. Our contributor has developed it rather fully. Our only comment must be the echo, “Seniors, if so, your looks belie you.”
Rosa says this line is as good as “He never lifted up a single stone.’—Enrrors.
76 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
On Songs
ESSIE writes awfully nice letters. I am sitting in the good old ferry-boat “Adriatic”
| feeling a little lonesome. So just now I picked up Jessie’s letter and behold in words
of fire it ran: “‘Eleanor sent me a reminder that I owe an article for the Class Book.”
The only moral to be drawn is that Eleanor should have sent me a reminder too. For
how can I write on songs without Gordon, and how to write on songs with Gordon when
half the Atlantic rolls unsteadily between? This is a question unanswerable—for as any
one knows I cannot write a song, to a song, for a song or of a song alone.
It was always done this way. Chance meeting on the campus.
K. A. P.: “Gordon, I’ve got quite a nice tune which might do.”
A. G. H.: “It’s name.”
K. A. P. (with hesitation): “Well, I don’t know exactly but I know how it goes.”
A.G.H.: “That’s a poor plan. That kind never has any parts and Dottie says
they’re awfully hard to learn.
(K. A. P. hums a part of an ancient Scotch air or nursery rhyme.)
A. G. H.: “Oh that—Oh wait, wouldn’t this go all right? (Hasty mumbling of a
hitherto suppressed gem.) Weare off. (There was no dust.) Music Room G becomes the
scene of horrid noises. Sounds above us of Polly Vennum shutting her windows. Fre-
quently on such occasions I have had inspirations but Gordon inevitably discovers that
such inspirations are either utterly irrelevant or else that they do not rhyme. She, on the
other hand, insists on using more words than there are notes and the music must be made
to fit the crime.
The finished product is illegible enough to become famous but has no other qualification.
With some misgivings due to the wholesome influence of daylight and plenty of fresh air
—unknown quantities in Music Room G—we bring it forth on the morrow hoping it will
be lost in the multitude. And behold! “Rockefeller” modest in its generality, has rushed
into the breach, as in the old days. Puddle, with cheery words to a popular air that warmed
the cockles of K. Stout’s heart, because written music for it was to be had, and the work
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 77
of our hands most happily perished. But it was not so with all. For if you don’t remember
those days when there were no other songs forthcoming, we do. A voice feebly: “I move
we accept Pagie’s song.”—‘‘It’s not mine, it’s Gordon’s,” from the unparliamentary chair.
(Frown from Jessie.) Second voice feebler: “I second the motion.” So it was, and then
we had to sing them! How this was done I leave to an abler pen than mine, which I find
at this juncture has run dry.
P. S.—Won’t you all begin writing songs for reunions!
KatHaRINne Pace.
78 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Ululatio; or, The Music of the Future
LULATIO—that might mean anything—; the Future—that is always uncertain—;
Music—well, we shall see! At any rate, this title is not binding, and anyway what’s
inaname! At first, I had intended to write of the divine art of Music as practiced
im Bryn Mawr. I had thought that I would begin something like this, viz: All music
is divided into three parts. First, the glee club; second, Whiting concerts; third, class-
singing. The first two are connected with deficits, the third—and then I realized that
there was so much that one could say about the third that I could leave out the other two
and confine myself entirely to singing. And here, some glimmer of justification of my title
may be apparent. I have always maintained that singing was a misleading term for what
we did—and others still do—at college—at least, for outsiders or for those who have been
long enough away to have their appreciation of normal standards, restored to them. Those
of us who have dwelt among these “cloistered shades and ivy-covered towers”’ (being of
the class of 1913, I couldn’t leave that out) for some time past, probably have acquired
a standard of our own. For instance, I have come to consider hoarse gurgles and timid
squeaks, low grumbling and piercing shrieks, all in a most ingenious system of intonation
of rapidly descending quarter tones and all perpetrated with a perfectly vacant countenance
and lack-lustre eye—the well-known song practice expression—I really have come to
consider all this, singing. But a new term—one that would hold for layman and initiated
alike,—would be serviceable, don’t you think? And why wouldn’t ululatio do as well as
anything else? It is classic and therefore in keeping with the academic atmosphere that
is so thick around the environs of Bryn Mawr. Moreover, it is euphonious—think of the
opportunities it affords to “dwell-l-l-] on the beautiful-l-l-] L-L-L-L, of Mr. King. Finally
—as I have already indicated, it might mean almost anything. So instead of saying to
your friends and family, when visiting college, “Come and hear the Seniors sing on the
steps, to-night,”’ you could say, “The Seniors ululate to-night, on the steps. Don’t you
want to come?” Of course they would want to come, and think how interesting they would
find it. Having gone expecting to see the Seniors rolling down the steps or perhaps standing
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 79
on their heads on the steps, they would remain to take in the above-mentioned vocal gym-
nastics and find it like nothing they had ever experienced before. Another great advantage
would be the fact that the mutes could come in on it. For ululation could certainly be
made to include mutilation, and think of what a perfectly enormous increase that would
make in the number of those performing. (N. B. The author is referring to statistics
based on observation of the class of 1913. In other classes this condition may conceivably
be subject to variation.)
Of course there are drawbacks to this plan—there always are to any plan. In the
first place, it would set a precedent. Goodness only knows what the students might do
if given so much liberty—particularly the mutes, who, naturally, would be quite intoxi-
cated with triumph. They might start a mutiny right off. (N. B. again. I am quite
conscious that punning is the worst form of wit, but better a bad witticism than none at
all.) Another obstacle in our way is TRADITION. Tradition is a very binding thing,
as we all know. For instance, there was an ancient and honourable one of almost three
months’ standing, that 1913 must never call on 1914 for anything but “A blue bird can
never resist forever,” and “The Sons of Erechtheus” or that 1915 must always sing either
“The spirit of Peace” or Aloha Lay(?) (Neither Harriet Bradford nor Isabel Smith are on
hand to give me the correct Hawaiian spelling, but we know what it means and that’s the
chief thing.) But these traditions are as new-born lambs compared to that one—venerable
and hoary, stretching back into the dim ages of pre-historic antiquity—namely, that the
Seniors should sing on the steps. But we are an energetic and progressive generation and,
moreover, now members of the all-powerful Alumnez Association. Let us kick over the
traces! Let us protest! Let us petition the Faculty, Miss Thomas, Rufus Jones, Presi-
dent Wilson—anybody! Let us cut out the dead wood and change things! Farewell to
the classicism of “Pallas Athene Thea,” also to the romanticism of “J’ai perdu celle,
pour”’—not forgetting the rowdyism of “Cocky Hocky.” Let us greet the Music of the
Future! We will be up to date in singing as in everything else. We will be Futurists and
Cubists in Music. But with all this, let us never forget that we—and we hope others will
follow us—when we gave up the steps, tried to be “Ladies Descending the Staircase.”
DororHEA DE Forest BALDWIN.
80 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Antt-Democracp
S the London Times editorial said when King Edward died: “Our subject to-day
is chosen for us.’ I suppose it would be better to define Democracy and all that
sort of thing, but it is much easier simply to write against it. Some classes have
believed in Democracy; that is to say, they have untaken it as required work and done
it something as one does Latin Private Reading. For at least Democracy and L. P. R.
have this in common; both look for a higher education and enlightenment for the masses.
Just as there are two ways of doing Aulus Gellius, there are two ways of doing Democracy:
the first, to do it all in a few hours by frantic attendance of class games arm in arm with
one’s feudal enemies, or by one blatantly inclusive picnic; the second, which appeals to
the more systematic and conscientious, is to do a little each day. I don’t need to illustrate
that. The systematic democrats are of course the most pernicious: healthy democratic
cram lasting only one day or night is more bearable.
The chief function of Democracy is: to see that no one is left out; the chief character-
istic of 1913 is to see that no one is left in.
Another function of Democracy, I am told, is to raise the social level of the whole,
but after all isn’t it simpler and more efficient to leave the fashions of the class to K. Stout
and Gertrude Ziesing and the question of “‘good form” to Sarah Atherton?
The real trouble with Democracy is that it is so unwieldy—like the man who was
struggling home with a grandfather clock from the repair shop when an interested little
boy asked him if it wouldn’t be easier to carry a watch.
But if we aren’t a democracy as a class—what are we? Perhaps true daughters of
our Alma Mater we are a “group system” that is, a disciplinary amount of what you
can’t escape and a little free elective. At least consider the question of reunions. We
are willing to live in Denbigh if some—some is good of course,—are allowed to live in Merion.
Probably if we had our way we should live in a handful of tents set about the campus.
If our pictures had been taken scientifically this year, we should have had six or seven
composite photographs and perhaps—Iki.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 81
But probably this is all wrong. Many people have told us what we were as a class,
cocky, indifferent, athletic, casual, even good looking, but I doubt if we were ever per-
manently convinced. We never did have a permanent conviction about ourselves, not
as other classes have had about themselves; the Senior Class for instance when we entered
college and at least one other, 1911 to 1916 inclusive.
Personally I never had but one conviction about the class which was, that “‘as a class
we could not sing.” [The mutes did not share this.] But this assurance was a good deal
shaken by M. Blaine’s little address on Class Spirit to us—when she said “We could sing
if we would.”’ And it was further damaged when after Garden Party and giving up the
steps, Mary Coolidge said in her nice, unimpassioned, judicial way that we had sung
better than they had. It was nice of Mary Coolidge but it shattered the only conviction
I ever had.
Well, suppose we aren’t a democracy, or really a group system, or vocally hopeless,
or a unit, or unrestrained Individualists, or even thorough-going Iconoclasts—what are we?
I think there is only one answer: it is contained in the first line of a hockey song which
infuriated our Juniors long ago. We were sorry and changed the song, but left the first
line—because no one knew what we meant by it exactly. You can interpret as you please.
“1913, you’re a Wonder!”
Gorpon Hami.ton.
82 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Diypmpic Games
LYMPIC Games—most secret and honored of rites—sacred to the memory of all
() “odd” upperclassmen of Bryn Mawr. Beware lest—like the unfortunate writer—
you disclose too soon to inquisitive Sophomores this inner shrine. The walls of
tradition will descend and crush you. As penance for said crime this account is rendered.
Thunder and lightning above, eager Sophomores below, Seniors in scarcity—such
was the setting for the play. With the “Old Mill” as prospective stage we started, only
to be reversed by rain and Pagie and forced to hold our noble Grecian festival in the—
Gym!
What the setting lacked in Grecian character the athletes atoned for. Skilled potato
racers, three-legged champions, peanut eaters of renown, all made history on that rainy
afternoon. But the much-coveted laurel crown was accorded—unanimously—to the
modern Alcibiades who with one hand on the pole dropped two stories down and emerged
grinning, but triumphant, from the further end of the last obstacle barrel.
Mavup Dessau.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 83
bat Constitutes a Classic
LREADY I have been long enough away from college to forget the distinction
between classicism and romanticism, but I am sure that we were romantic in our
fevered efforts in search of a classic vehicle for our histrionic endeavor. Romanticism
as I remember, has something to do with desire for the novel and unhackneyed things
of life and we seemed to feel from the start, that a classic play would come under this
category, i. e. novel and unhackneyed. Why we felt this way I have never been able to
ascertain but the majority of the class—as shown by many senses of the meeting and direct
votes, or should I perhaps say by a majority of the senses of the meetings and the votes,
for sometimes we took a day off and changed our mind—well anyway the majority always
seemed to feel it our sacred duty to aspire high and not contaminate our minds with these
merely popular or amusing things. Not that—in the end—we, as a class had much to say
about it. We regularly rejected everything that hard-working committees suggested—
until there was nothing left to reject—and then we left it to kind chance to put something
in our way.
Beginning with the Sophomore play, our committee established the fatal precedent
of procrastination and the class its relentless desire for the noble and unpopular. That
poor committee! I have never been able to decide which of our three play committees
had the worst time, but this one started the pace. I can see them now—Mary Tongue
and Gordon are the only ones that come to mind just now—wandering disconsolately
*amid the monuments by the upper hockey field, seeking inspiration from gazing at the
sun dial or sitting on the marble bench all autumn until only four weeks intervened
between them and the date of the performance. Then in desperation they chose something
that was—well récherché to say the least. It was new, its author comparatively unknown,
it was unsanctioned by the English Department, it was redolent of cherry blossoms and
**Waelness in the springtime.” Altogether one wonders how the committee—clever though
*The preposition we consider well chosen. The picture is a heart-rending one. Lei us be glad that neither caught her death
of cold as she took her turn on the bench, watching the other symbolize the futility of the middle course.—Eprrtor.
84 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
it was—ever found it out. But suffice it to say that it was not only found, but cast and
produced. While we didn’t receive any too gentle treatment from the hands of the college
critics and while we weren’t quite sure that it was or ever would be a classic, nevertheless
we felt certain that it must be uplifting because it had a tragic ending. The upshot of
the whole matter was that that performance fixed our lasting reputation. All the rest
of our dramatic course was consumed in trying to live down those cherry blossoms, that
perilously small cast, that one act, that blank verse and above all the tragic ending.
The course of the next year was punctuated by dissensions of the second play com-
mittee. We were a determined lot and began in the summer preceding the opening of
college when Irish plays—then the latest thing—were sent from member to member by
mail. We were a funny committee, but as aforesaid determined, though each in a different
way as soon became apparent. Olga, our chairman, swore that she had never been to the
theatre—although I afterwards heard that she had gone to see the Follies of 1911. Mar-
garet Blaine wanted “‘something pretty, where we would all come tripping on.” Gordon
wanted Strafford by Browning or Shakespeare.* I—well way back then I confess to a
weakness for that play, well beloved by high schools, as they all told me,—namely She Stoops
to Conquer or else a play by Sheridan—but I was always conservative and old-fashioned
in my tastes. To return to the committee—we discussed and talked while Christmas and
New Years passed and the new semester was inaugurated. Then The Scarecrow of Perey
MacKaye was considered and we all went to see it. Then we chose it and wrote to the
author’s publishers for the dramatic rights. We tried to cast it, but there were two lead-
ing men’s parts and only one Beatrice Nathans. Then we remembered the tragic ending
and also that we were not a good class in the acting line. So once more we were thrown
into an agony of indecision. Once more the committee read and argued and argued and
read. The class was appealed to. It wanted a play. It wanted something worth while.
That was all. Consternation reigned and the time was getting short. Then—like a veri-
table Dea ex machina of ancient legend—there came to our rescue Pagie’s sister-in-law.
The Little Minister she said would be splendid. So The Little Minister it was. Tt was
*We consider this indifference as to authorship really very liberal in a member of that play committee.—Enrror.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 85
long, it had a large cast, it was not sad, it was not in verse and—if perhaps not quite a
classic—it was at any rate by a well known author and had been played by Maude Adams.
I will pass over the trials, misgivings, amusement and—I think I may add—final
triumph of our production of the play to introduce a scene of great turmoil and distraction.
Senior year not only did the committee discuss but the whole class debated en masse. Things
were getting serious. We had only one more chance and where was that classic? Josephine
Cockrell marshalled her committee forces early in the season and brought forward sug-
gestions—among them David Garrick. But the class would have none of that. Hot words
were thrown back and forth.* Many hard things were shouted in excited voices. The
sides seemed very evenly matched. No one could tell what the outcome would be. Then
some one gifted with more than ordinary intelligence made a brilliant motion, that calmed
the troubled waters like oil cast upon them. This motion, which was passed almost unani-
mously, was to the effect that we should not exclude David Garrick from future consideration.
With this decisive move accomplished the meeting adjourned. But there were others
who will never forget those verbose half hours from 1.30 to 2 when Denbigh upheld Campaspe
or when Beatrice Nathans made her minority report in favour of John Masefield’s Tragedy
of Nan. ‘Think of the tilts in defense of Strindberg and {Dostoieffsky and the final votes
against “depressing modern realism.” Later we reverted to the classic ideal and some one
suggested Sheridan. But there came the rub. Was Sheridan a classic—or at least classic
enough to deserve the consideration by the class of 1913? We begged some one who knew,
to tell the class quite frankly and openly whether Sheridan really was considered a classic.
Pagie ventured the remark that one was supposed to have read him but that didn’t seem
to convince us and as no one else came forward to act as literary arbiter the question hung
in the balance. But there were some ardent champions of Mr. Sheridan, so the matter had
to be settled one way or the other. We therefore took a sense of the meeting as to the
*Shall we include among them Ellen’s remark, that perhaps the rest of the college would remember us more kindly if we
didn’t give Campaspe.—Enrror.
Were we planning, perchance, a dramatization of Brothers Karamozov or was it sheer literary zeal that urged us to bring
Dostoteffsky in? —Ep1tTor.
86 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
gentleman’s literary status. Poor old Sherry won, although by a none too wide margin,
Being thus elevated by the class of 1913 with due solemnity to the impregnable position
of a classic writer, we discovered that he would constitute a convenient standard. So a
motion was made that we should choose only from plays at least as classical as Sheridan,
All these decisions simplified the final choice immensely. It was now merely a question
of classicism and happy ending. There are a great many plays that are so classic that it
is unnecessary to vote about it. It sticks out all over them and every one takes it for
granted. Othello is of this variety and so is Sophocles’ Electra. But happy endings are a
little more difficult to manage. We thought of As You Like It, but Miss Thomas wouldn’t
hear of it. Altogether we were in a bad way. Then another intelligent member of the class
thought of David Garrick. David Garrick had a happy ending. No one could deny that—
the villain dished, the Father blessing, the lovers embracing. It only remained to see
whether it was of the standard of Sheridan. A sense was taken and wonder of wonders.
—swiftly and silently David Garrick was chosen, but more than this, by that same act it
was pronounced as classic as Sheridan.
Dorotuea BaLpwin.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 87
THater Wolo
Speech originally delivered at class supper Freshman Year.
(Prayer of the author: If you think you remember it as being funny, don’t
read it! Old age is approaching fast; leave yourself a few illusions! Or, if you
must read it, wait until you’ve had at least seven waffles for lunch; they, in my
experience, produce better than anything else that comfortable full feeling which
is conducive to easy laughter.)
EAR friends and fellow-swimmerettes, I am very much embarrassed at being thus
suddenly called upon to speak before such a distinguished company. But, though
I feel the modest blushes running riot over my cheeks, I cannot let slip this oppor-
tunity to address a few words to you. You did me the honour to elect me captain of the
water-polo team. A splendid team it was, and, as you know, it won the college champion-
ship. But we want it to be even more splendid next year; therefore, I should suggest
that during the coming summer, we all bear in mind the glorious opportunities before us,
and practice for water polo. For those of you who go to sea-shore or lake-side, this will
be quite simple. It will be an excellent plan to practice ducking on your friends; approach
them quickly and gently from behind and then push suddenly. Explain afterwards, and
they will not mind being martyrs in so good a cause. For a ball, if you lack a real one,
a good substitute will be a large-sized cabbage. This may not float like a real ball, but it
will be all the better practice for you to try to catch it before it sinks. Even if you do
not go to the sea-shore you need not give up practicing on that account. I have a friend
who ought to know, for she tubs at least four times each day, who assured me only last
week that it is perfectly easy to swim in a bath-tub. I should not advise you to try long-
distance races in one, but for quick turning and change of direction, it ought to be excellent.
Finally let me urge any of you who do not already play water polo to try it. It is the
only ladylike game on the sports’ lists. No sprained ankles, shattered shins, or broken
noses! Nothing can possibly happen to you except drowning, and drowning is a very
pleasant death, usually accompanied, I believe, by illusions of delicious tastes and heavenly
88 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN- THIRTEEN
melodies. Therefore, if roast beef and Senior singing pall upon you, come and drown a bit
in the pool. Water polo offers a further inducement to those of you who live in Merion
Hall. Ten minutes of it can not only be registered as one period of exercise, but it also
counts as two baths. Play water polo and you will get H. C. in bathing. What more
need I say?
P. S. I should like to add, however, to my remark about the pleasant sensations of
drowning, that another sense has lately been tickled in the pool, 7.e., the sense of smell.
Who that has played water polo this last year can ever forget the odor, so clinging, penetrat-
ing and delightful, so healthful, sanitary, antiseptic and germ-killing,—in short, the odor of
generous quantities of lime? ‘“‘Not all the perfumes of Araby,” etc. My bathing suit is still
redolent with its balmy fragrance—at least, I suppose it is; I haven’t seen it for many ©
moons; someone borrowed it; I mention no names out of charity and also because I don’t
remember who it was. And yet another new sensation was vouchsafed to water-polo
players of last winter. After being tested and listened to internally in breathless silence
by the side of the damp, green waters, and being known to the entire medical corps of the
college, by the illuminating cognomen of 1316 N. Dil., I now know without even having
taken Bi. exactly how a laboratory specimen feels. ”*Tis a very broadening and culture-
inducing game, you must admit, that gives you a glimpse into the feelings of another form
of life, and makes you sympathize with the sufferings of a protozoa under the microscope!
YvoNNE STODDARD.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 89
The wWrospect of Wetng a Wiarden
HERE is a certain Spanish proverb which begins with the phrase: “Fleeing the
parsley.”” The rest of the proverb I have never heard, but I know now that the end
of it must be “‘one fall into the soup,” and that the author of it in a prophetic moment
spoke expressly of my career. All my college life I have assiduously fled the parsley of
college meals. For dinner I have substituted tea house or picnic as often as my pocket-
book and my friends permitted. When forced to come to the dining-room I frowned with
a good will on all tardy comers or slow masticators and in Roman style with down-
turned thumb urged the suppression of the salad. Breakfast by my Senior year I had
reduced to the artistic level of a roll and a conversation with H. P. Now I suddenly find
myself in a position where the chief end of my existence is not merely parsley, but beef,
mutton, and soup. Recall carefully the exact nature of that soup—‘‘attenuated” H. P.
called it—and then try to realize how it must feel to be the prospective power behind it.
Imagine Anson Bourne of General Psychology fame permanently arrested half way
in his change of personalities, consider that in this metamorphic stage he finds himself
unable to get anything but an inverted view of the universe, and you may have some con-
ception of my state of mind during the last four months. I would like to say, by the way,
that this inverted view is not all that it is cracked up to be. It involves too much dizzi-
ness even when gained by one still apparently maintaining an upright position. Perhaps
in my case this giddiness has been increased by the fact that the particular object upon
which my gaze was focussed—i.e. the wardenship—was so elusive, so misty in outline. The
warden and her occupations have always been for me among the unsolved mysteries of
college life. Miss Reilly once said to me, “One can hardly call the wardens a body.”
Granted; but then can one on the other hand label them pure spirit? All other considera-
tions aside, the frankly material nature of their more obvious duties seems to forbid such
a classification. I looked to my contract for enlightenment; but that document confined
itself to the demand that I count the spoons after the students have left the hall, and
perform my duties to the best of my ability. The veil was lifted a little for me when
ms
Ae
.
90 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
in June I played the part of the Casabianca of Denbigh Hall with Miss Norton as coach
and Miss Ely as chorus (the burden of her song being It’s not the work but the nervous
strain). I learned then, for instance, that my next réle might be that of Pocahontas to the
cooks when the strain of the soup—be it understood that this phrase is purely metaphorical
—hbecomes too much for their temper and they fall upon one another with knives. Warned
by the kitchen maid that my cue for this part has come, I make a dramatic entrance,
throw myself between the angry females and sternly order one to the attic, the other to
the laundry, recommending that they implore the powers above to forgive their sins.
Then I wait with folded arms and a haughty air until they return smiling and exclaim-
ing gratefully, “It certainly was a lucky thing you came, Miss. She certainly never
would have gotten out of this kitchen alive if you hadn’t come.” Much beyond this simple
part, well suited to the capacity of a beginner, I did not go, however, in that June week.
I received no drill, for instance, in the subtleties of the rdle that must be mine in those
wardens’ meetings attended by President Thomas, Miss Martha G. Thomas, 1910 and
myself. Probably the full revelation of the warden mysteries does not come until September
first, the date on which according to contract the official cloak completely enwraps me.
To return from vain speculations to the question of the dual personality and the
inverted view. These I find place one at times in awkward situations. Nothing, for
instance, but Margaret Blaine’s stern eye in the wings saved me from utter collapse when
in the middle of Chivy’s most hilarious scene there flashed through my mind the horrid
query—‘How many sub-freshmen with their mothers are in the audience?” Then the
ever-present doubt as to the comparative advisability of being friendly with the Freshmen
Nortr.—President Thomas we all know, Miss Martha G. Thomas we all know, but 1910 none knowsas wellasI. In proof whereof, I
will now tell a tale of my Freshman days. It was the hockey season, and it also was the night of Sophomore dance. The fanny
Freshmen were all agog, making themselves as beautiful as might be for that occasion, when Kate Rotan came into the hall and up the
stairway. At the top of the first flight she stopped and called in a loud, clear voice, “Gordon Hamilton.”” Now it happened that
Gordon was in the tea pantry curling her hair. Again Kate called, ‘Gordon Hamilton.”’ Gordon still lingered, hoping that the Varsity
captain—for it was in that capacity that Kate had come—might go up yet another flight to Gordon’s room, giving Gordon herself a
chance to hide the curling-iron and appear in respectable guise. At the third impatient call, however, Gordon, realizing perhaps the
folly of her idea and confused at having kept the summoner waiting, rushed out into the hall, curling-tongs in hand and crimped hair
waving. There she stood meekly to receive the command that she appear at the Varsity game the next morning. Though her costume
was odd, she did not smile, neither did Kate; for a summons from 1910 was no laughing matter. And I standing at my study door,
looked and learned, and what I learned then I have never forgotten. Is it any wonder, then, that I sometimes dream at nights of those
wardens’ meetings, attended by Miss M. Carey Thomas, Miss Martha G. Thomas, 1910 and myself?—AuTHoR.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 91
who fed one with odd dishes at strange hours and calling them by their first names; or of
keeping them at the arms-length of a Miss, with an eye to the future, was always reduc-
ing one to the middle course of rudely addressing them as you. Moreover, one is placed
on such an odd footing with one’s friends. Now up to last winter I always considered the
wardenship a serious, not to say solemn post. Since then, the behaviour of my friends
has convinced me that I was mistaken. I have seen the soberest of them make super-
human but futile efforts to restrain their mirth when I mentioned it to them. Casual
acquaintances or comparative strangers become jocose at the mere sound of the word.
Grave trustees or members of the faculty wax facetious at the very sight of me. Generally
when the friends have recovered from the humor of the situation, more appropriate emotions
appear. I see anxiety written on their brows. Presently they can bear it no longer and
out pops the question, “Will you wear the green hat?” This being answered in the
negative, they are somewhat relieved, but still must know whether I will wear jumpers,
and call every one Miss. Mary Coolidge looks me up and down critically, then coldly
remarks that she hopes that I will remember the chaperon rules. Reassured on all these
points, my interested friends feel free to be very helpful. They are especially solicitous,
it seems, in regard to toast and give me much advice as to the exact thickness, degree
of heat, amount of butter, etc., that they consider essential in a perfect piece of toast.
Then they end with a few encouraging words, and if they be my own classmates a promise
that they will come visit me in the Fall to see that I am getting on all right—this promise
in spite of the reluctance of some to stay in Denbigh at reunion time, since in Merion
they find Miss Merryweather “who always liked 1913.”
It is not of Anson Bourne that I think, though, as I go out of the dining-room, and
see the wardens smiling at the Freshmen and serving them ice cream, but of the old woman
in the nursery rhyme who cried out, ‘“‘Lawk a-mercy on me, this is none of I.” Will the
Hell-Hound bark at me, I wonder, when I go back in the Fall?
ExLeanor Bontecovu.
92 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Cocky wockep
E might have been a very humble class. Our motto as we came tottering through
the arch to mingle with the ivy-covered towers might have been—‘Be Meek.”
It might, but our possible and probable career of Meekness was ruined at the very
beginning. We had not been among the Intellectuals more than fifteen minutes before the
name, nickname or adjective of “Cocky’’ was given to us by those who scorned us from
unknown heights. What in the world that word meant or why it should be given to us,
Poor Innocents, we did not know, but-in order to appear intelligent we analyzed it, and gave
it a meaning and then to please our Elders and Betters endeavored to live up to our interpre-
tation:—No matter what we did we were to think it excellent; we were to take no advice
from anyone with no exceptions and finally on all occasions we were thoroughly to enjoy
ourselves. Did we? We think we did.
Though our Inward Souls revolted against such procedure, we swallowed hard, gritted
our teeth and did our duty. We pursued Cocky almost to its Greek derivation: consequently
we were proud when we cheered ourselves inadvertently under the arch, and also when we
sang 1910’s Class Song. It was so original and thoughtful of us. We patted ourselves on
our backs when we nearly, but not quite, won Hockey, when we won the Gym meet and
broke swimming records. We said nothing, but there was an air about us ! It was no
wonder that K. Schmidt having been in college a month—desiring to know the Seniors a little
better, invited on Monday all the Seniors in Pem. West, on Tuesday Pem. East, on Wednes-
day Denbigh, etc., to spend the night with her.
It was a mark to our credit that it was thought necessary to have a library proctor to
keep us in our places; and mid-years momentarily depressed us; but soon we were looking
back and thinking it was rather distinctive of us to have had the highest average of failures
that ever has been. Through the following years, to sum up our gracious career, we sang
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 93
loudly, were married, broke traditions and the queerer we became, the prouder we became
and so I think we will be cocky till the end of a thousand years:—and why not?
P. S.—I feel it my duty to mention one member of our class who was always humble.
C. Nash by name. She always carried Pat Murphy’s suit-case while she was in college,
and I am given to understand, when she came back this spring still had the old habit.
Louisa Haypocx.
94 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Aftermath
OW have the mighty fallen,—mighty in pride if not in accomplishments! Need
it be said that we bore upon our brows large and protuberant bumps of—not
modesty at any rate. Like a young and successful doctor, we needed shoe-horns
with which to put on our hats. It must not be supposed, however, that these bumps cropped
up entirely without cause. And they might have been a great deal bigger if our victories
had come at the end of our career instead of the beginning. Therein lay the trouble.
Encouraged by our triumphs in our Freshman Year (not by our sister and brother classes)
we felt that by our Senior Year we should sweep all before us; we saw ourselves the cham-
pions of hockey, track, swimming, tennis and basket-ball. Sublimely confident, not to
say cocky, we threw ourselves with abandon into every match-game only to emerge
saying,.‘‘ Well! we’ve got to win that next year!” One peppery individual even went so
far as to purchase a key from the housekeeper and, after locking herself in her room, to
give vent to torrents of profanity. But alas! of no avail was confidence or profanity.
The best we could do was to grasp for a moment an eelish championship that wriggled
away in a flash.
But, although 1913’s career in athletics was a sad and unprofitable one, it had its good
point. It proved an exception to our great pose, “casuelle” and ‘“unconventionnelle”’
in the matter of proper spirit elsewhere, we cultivated a “wonderful sporting spirit;’’ or
at least we thought we did and, although not apparent to others, it was to us and com-
forted us. Even the most blasé among us were imbued with this spirit. One of our most
representative members, as a breaker of traditions and as a great and indifferent soul,
became very thrilled over a match-game. When told to appear promptly at 4.00, she
said she would try but didn’t think she could. She was seen on the field at 3.30. I will
leave you to guess who she was. __
In spite of appearances I attempted a theme for this discourse. I will not try to set
it down, but it is similar to the title of one of George Ade’s fables, namely The Fable of the
Coming Champion Who Was Delayed. Rosa Mason.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 95
pegasus with a puncture
re HERE is not much fun in being dead, Sir,”’ said Mehawl.
“How do you know?” said the Philosopher.
“Oh, I know well enough,” said Mehawl.
* * * * * * * * * * *
This article will not be concerned with motors in spite of its title and in spite of the
fact that we are the first class for which President Thomas contemplated Taylor Arch
automobile regulations and all but put off the Students’ Building to have a garage con-
structed. This will not deal, on the other hand, with the obvious metaphorical interpretation
of a punctured Pegasus—you will find herein no information as to our first Midyears or
our last Oral—or even a Miss Donnelly quiz. This is a hard luck story, strictly personal;
this is the united wail of the stranded tenth—not the submerged tenth but the chartless,
heartless, dis-spirited, melancholy, ship-wrecked tenth who like the foolish Virgins or the
modern Tourist did not provide themselves with enough oil to get in, or there, or through,
or wherever a degree takes you. We are those who when we think of how we slaved, wish
that we had died as babies or Freshmen or even been cremated in Taylor before the college
provided for our possible escape. We are those who have been left—by Fate and European
trips and Orals and Pestilence and beginning our work too late and taking too little or a
number of other reasons.
In short, we are strange, unhappy, nondescript creatures—Academic Ghosts. We
are all Academic Ghosts; we are some of us Academic Ghosts and Non-Residents! At
this point my pen falters. In the midst of Bryn Mawr life we are in—the way. Our
raison d’étre seems to be—to increase the class quotas in popular halls. And we have a
shrewd notion which we can test in the Fall, that the existence of the Academic Ghost,
like Sir Herbert Tree’s Hamlet, is funny without being coarse. However, if any of 1913
should come back next year, which they profess themselves disinclined to do, we will play
our réles properly by giving them tea. I remember going to tea once with a Shade from
some departed class. She had Miss Crandall and three young men from Wayne! So you
ie eee te
96 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
will know just what to expect of Spectral Society. In this matter of tea and other things,
it would be delightful to stay at Bryn Mawr if one were only allowed to go away from it
at the end of—say, four years. But after four years, gentle friends—if we stay—our prestige
at least goes. We haven’t a thread left of the Mantle of Importance, and the Belt of
Dignity is tightened many times until it looks profoundly like a collar. There are no seats
in chapel reserved for ghosts, or ha’nts as I suppose we must say when we refer to our
member from Baltimore. The only way we poor Spookies can get through doors that are
no longer opened for us—is to glide; and the clank of our chains—as according to con-
ventional ghost etiquette we return to Bryn Mawr in search of our lost A.B.—can be heard
from Low Buildings to Dalton.
Acapemic Guost How ina.
Epilogue
Any one who heard Mr. Alfred Noyes read his “Highwayman’”’ will know what tragic emphasis to
employ in the rendition of the following:
ParavE NIGHT
When the campus is pale with moonlight
And “Parade”’ has just occurred,
When all old friends have been greeted
And the Freshmen are registered,
When all the classes are gathered
In the dark arch as of yore,
We spectres then come gliding,
Gliding, gliding!
And take up their place in a shadow
Beside West Pembroke door.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
97
While the Even Classes are cheering
And our Freshmen sing Side by Side
Perhaps we shall manage an Amo
As we cheered it before we died;
Perhaps we shall manage an Amo
Or an audite at mosts;
But they will barely hear us,
Yes, barely, rarely hear us,
Though they’re standing very near us—
The Academic ghosts.
A. G. Hi,
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS
OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Horckep
College championship won by
1914
1913 Captain—Lovisa Haypock
Team
Epna Levy
Luctnpa MENENDEZ
Lovisa Haypock
Marcaret BiAIne
Kartuarine Pace
Auick Hearne
Auice Patterson
GERTRUDE Hivricus
Mavup Dessau
GracE BarTHoLOMEW
ELEeanor BontTEcoU
1913 on Varsity
KatuHariIne Pace
Louisa Haypock
Aticr HEARNE
Sentor Wear Athletics
Cennis
College championship in singles
won by 1913
College championship in doubles
won by 1913
College Champion—KatTHARINE
Auicr Pace
1913 Captain—Auicr DupLEYy
PattERSON
1913 on Varsity
Kartuarine Pace
AuicE Patterson
Swimming
Meet won by 1915
1913 Captain—Yvonne Srop-
DARD
Water Pols
Captain—YvonneE StoppARD
College championship won by
1913
Track
1913 Captain—GrrtrupE Hin-
RICHS
Meet won by 1915
Records—
— Yard dash: Louisa Haypock
Bagket-Ball
College championship won by
1914
1913 Captain—FLorENcE Mavup
Dessau
Team
KatuarinE Pace
GERTRUDE HuiyricHs
Fiorence Mavup Dessau
Lovisa Haypockx
LuctnpA MENENDEZ
ELEranor BontEcou
AuicE PATTERSON
1913 on Varsity
KarHarine Pace
Lovisa Haypock
ELreanor Bontecou
“We Come from Rock and Merion”
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 101
A Song
Composed, sung and exclusively controlled by
Merion, 1913
(To be sung to the tune of “The School of Jolly Boys’’)
I
There is a college of Bryn Mawr
I’ve lately come across.
It has a learned Ph.D.
To be it’s guide and boss.
Curorvus
And she always is so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
And she always is so jolly—oh,
Wherever she may be.
II
There are five halls of residence,
The gym and library,
And Taylor Hall and Dalton, too,
Besides th’ Infirmary.
CHorvs
And then it is so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
And then it is so jolly—oh,,
If there you happen to be.
102 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
|
Iil
In Rockfeller, sharks abound,
They study all the day,
And all the students get H. C.
And yet have time for play.
Cuorvus
And they always are so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
And they always are so jolly—oh,
Wherever they may be.
IV
In Pembrokes both, it’s different,
They’re not so bright, you see;
And to Trapit10n’s holy law
Refuse to bend the knee.
Cuorvus
Yet they always are so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
Yet they always are so jolly—oh,
Wherever they may be.
V
In Denbigh, they are very good,
They put the rest to shame,
And yet they are so lively too
One scarcely can them blame.
.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 108
CuHorvus
And they always are so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
And they always are so jolly—oh,
Wherever they may be.
VI
In Radnor live the socialists
And anarchists and such.
We think them revolution’ry
But like them very much.
Cxorvus
For they always are so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
For they always are so jolly—oh,
Wherever they may be.
Vil
(To be sung with especial fervor and action)
Oh Merion’s a rowdy lot,
Their dining-room’s a sight;
They shout and yell so very much
You scarce can get a bite.
Corvus
But they always are so jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
But they always are so jolly—oh,
Wherever they may be.
*
104 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Envoi
And if you think that in this song
We speak a bit too strong,
Just think of what you might have said
If you had written it instead.
CHorus
And we certainly feel jolly—oh,
So jolly—oh, so jolly—oh,
And we certainly feel jolly—oh,
Before this company.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 105
The haunt of the heretic
H, Merion, Merion Hall! ‘Tell me, canst thou recognize thyself in this alliterative
designation? And similarly—oh ye former Merion inmates—do you submit to
being dubbed heretics? True, we were profane at times and our conversation at table
—particularly when some new hair-raising story had been imported from 1914 in Pem—
was often racy. But some people undeniably considered us positively wicked—at least,
most of us. Jessie Buchanan was an exception. She was a “pillar” and therefore all
right. She also formed a connecting link between the outside world and the benighted
degenerates of our hall. She was often held responsible for the actions of the rest of us,
which was rather painful for her—especially as we really weren’t so bad after all. We
were passionately fond of our hall and we stuck to it through thick and thin. We got on
with each other pretty well too, during those four years. We loved Miss Merryweather
and the campus view, the third floor and our dining room chairs—when we got them.
Sometimes we were filled with reformation ardor and a revolutionary spirit. Always we
were highly inquisitive and continually after “sleuth.” On Sunday afternoons we would
hang from our windows with opera glasses and we knew all engagements long before they
were announced. But venial offences these, surely! Loyalty and strong affection for
our abiding place, harmony with each other, some independence, some desire to agitate—
all this, seasoned with a soupgon of profanity and curiosity—oh, call us rather the Home
of the Hopeful! Anything but the Haunt of the Heretic. But, alas! reputation is no
bubble, as popularly supposed. It is a tough and unbreakable membrane, and Merion
Hall—our Merion—in the stern editorial-in-chief mind*—is reputed a haunt and we—
heretical. Heavens, how harsh, how hopeless!
D. ve F. B.
*It is only fair to state that these terms which seem to Miss Baldwin so opprobrious were hailed by other inmates of Merion with
the joy of souls that have at last found themselves.—Ep1tor.
106 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
The Philosophy of Rock
HEN there is a class meeting at one-thirty the members of Rock 1913 who have
leanings toward punctuality determinedly suppress all attempts at conversation
at lunch; for it is the custom of Rock to decide the affairs of the universe at the
table, and it usually takes an extra quarter of an hour to decide them satisfactorily. When
there is no class meeting, Rock settles down contentedly into its chairs, thoughtfully sips
its water, and the fray begins. Often enough it begins with the question of matrimony;
the character, habits and appearance of the prospective husband are discussed, and thor-
oughly disagreed upon; we then consider his earning capacity, and the high cost of living.
That leads to the tariff, which suggests Economics, which suggests Mrs. Smith’s opinions
of a single tax on land. One belligerent inhabitant of Rock, whose family owns some rocky
pastures, announces in no measured terms her firm opposition to the slightest increase in
taxes on such worthless stuff as land. Some one suggests that factories may be built in
rocky pastures, and their value increased. Factory conditions are considered. (I might
say at this point that we do not, of course, expect the laity to be able to follow the leaps
and flights of the great Rock mind.) The relative merits of domestic service and factory
life are hotly contested. Follow the subjects of temperance, suffrage, the ages of the
visiting alumnz, and the penciled hieroglyphics on the soft-boiled eggs.* Every other
table in the dining room is deserted, the patient maids are gazing dreamily into space,
when Rock, having dispatched all these weighty matters to its dissatisfaction, stormily
adjourns until its next meal.
RacHAEL STEELE.
*N. B.—We believe this arrangement is peculiar to Rock.—Eprtors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 107
The BWomance of Wadnor
HE title is mine and I’m proud of it. Eleanor gave me “Living in Radnor,” a large
and indefinite subject, and I laboured for days trying to decide between two salient
features of Radnor life, dining-room chairs and laurel-crowned washtubs, but other
halls have them—the chairs, I mean—and the tubs are negligible. Besides, Romance is
Radnor’s most important characteristic, albeit unacknowledged, and I feel it my duty to
write about it. Anyhow, I always have liked alliteration.*
By Romance I don’t mean any such fascination as that which allures triumphant
Villanova to Pembroke, though we have suffered under the tender clamorings of Haver-
ford, and once there was a man and bagpipes at five a.m. Neither need there be confusion
with Denbigh and Rock; they have romances, while our Romance is singular and capitalized.
Of course, I realize that Apphia spent Freshman year in Radnor, in company with Zelda
Branch, but we are generous and let Denbigh take the credit. Radnor, you see, has real
Romance, the kind you read about in poetry and fairy tales. Where else do you find ivy-
covered balconies, plainly made for Prince Charming or Cyrano, especially when the moon-
light doesn’t quite reveal every corner, and the shadows deepen? What a-spot for a
princess or fair lady to bend over the edge and steal a few moments of perilous joy with
her own true love! Our lattice windows, too, come straight from enchanted castles.
Whoever heard of a princess in distress or love who didn’t gaze with tear-dimmed eyes
through the lattice, or fling it wide to welcome her knight. A princess just naturally
couldn’t open a window, it would be beneath her dignity, besides suggesting nightcaps
and Santa Claus. I’m told that elsewhere on the campus fire-escapes are the only sub-
stitutes for balconies, and that in Pembroke at least, with all proper ways of doing things
completely reversed, Prince Charming is kept indoors, and everyone looks in from outside.
Nor are these Radnor’s only claims to Romance. They are but the outward and
visible signs of something which so affects some Radnorites that song rises to their lips
as freely as to troubadours’ of yore. Tell me, do you in other halls have impromptu grand
*In this the author has our sympathy. Witness the other titles in this book.—EprtTors,
108 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
opera, any night you wish, rendered not by a rigid caste, but by one which shifts constantly
in view of various exigencies? Imagine Caruso and Farrar changing places and voices
suddenly, when memory or dramatic ability fails! Yet so it is with us. Many times have
I seen Marguerite* and Faust intertransformed, the music proceeding meantime with
surprisingly little hesitation. Faust and Rigoletto are the favorites, for obvious romantic
seasons, but several times I have heard the Valkyries descending the staircase with true
Scandinavian vigour, and Fafnir roars constantly.
At Christmas time, however, poetry of ballad and fairy tale joins operatic ability,
and we revel in true Romantic style. In costumes of hunter’s green and wood brown,
with belts and caps of holly red, we drag the Yule Log, and to the accompaniment of old
carols, feast by the light of the Christmas candles. But the climax of the feast and the
choice product of our Romance is the Boar’s Head. I defy even Walter Pater to produce
anything more romantic, and I ought to know,—I helped make it once out of two cushions,
one 1914 lantern, a piece of brown cambric, and a scrap of pink silk. Borne by a portly
steward and escorted by castle servants in holiday attire, the Boar’s Head proceeds to the
place of honour, and in strains befitting any ballad we close our feast with song.
Let me, in conclusion, quote Radnor’s favorite song, written for our hockey game
with Rock in the autumn of 1911, and handed down by word of mouth till now. Could
anything be more romantic?
“Radnor, Radnor, beat it up and play for Radnor,
Tho’ we’re old and small, we can beat you all
With our age and with our beauty,
“Quality, not Quantity,’ in
Radnor, Radnor, dribble, pass, and shoot for Radnor.
We will put a little dint ;
In John D.’s mint
And kill the mighty dollar just for Radnor.”
ADELAIDE SImpson.
*At this point Gordon asks “Marguerite who?” —Eprtors.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 109
Table Conversation
NE always feels sorry for those who have not had the benefit of one’s own expe-
riences. I feel sorry for those who did not experience the table conversation of 1913
Denbigh. No doubt other halls were discussing such prosaic subjects as the color
scheme in Mrs. Smith’s clothes, or who was first on the strength list and why, while Denbigh
was absorbed in the pursuit of abstract truth. Confident as I am of the intellectual powers
of other classmates, I doubt if other halls attained to quite the philosophical level which
characterized us. Breakfast seemed especially conducive to the presentation of meta-
physical problems. In the thick of the fight were H. P., Gordon, and Worthy; Margaret
usually had discussed till so late the night before that she was not up with the early risers.
The rest of us formed a sort of fringe of half-participant, interested, patient, or impatient
listeners. Worthy would paw the table gently in her zeal to solve the problem of the
nature of truth. When unconsciously once she thrust her fist into the finger bowl, up-
setting the contents on and the equilibrium of her left hand neighbor, a slight smile
was the only recognition of her act for which she could stop. ‘The sudden wetness caused
but momentary hesitation in the midst of the serious discussion, while her neighbor, napkin
to mouth, strove vainly to restrain the mirth which in the seriousness would have been
unseemly, and which could have outlet only later within the four walls of her own room.
Grace, on the other side, sat through the discussion in patient silence, till driven by neces-
sity, she asked severely for the butter. Apphia once caught alone in this sea of abstract
ideas cried forth in agony, “Heaven send me Grace Bartholomew.” The standard was
well kept up by H. P. who upon hearing that the grads never did any theorizing at their
table, exclaimed, “Imagine how deadly a conversation would be without theories.”
But one must not get the impression that our conversation was all philosophy. Some-
times it was statistics. One of our number had a passion for them, thus shrewdly gathering
personal data by impersonal methods. “What has thrilled you most in college?” was
a characteristic question asked all around the table of each one. If Marjorie suggested -
that there were some things she would like to keep to herself, then the interrogator a bit
110 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
subdued, would have to pass on to her own answer of the question or to a change of sub-
ject. Gordon, also, for she it was, was a kind of Greek chorus, aiming to maintain the moral
equilibrium of the table, as when Miss Proctor said scornfully of a certain gentleman, that
his occupation was pressing bricks, Gordon, unacquainted with the slang expression, and
feeling that such a remark should not go uncriticized, said, “What is the matter with
pressing bricks as an occupation, isn’t it perfectly honest? Miss Proctor, you’re an awful
snob, you know.”
Then there were always the hidden references to Apphia’s engagement, which one
or two of us were too dull to perceive. Those who knew of it, always turned to her for
her opinion of marriage. After the announcement, the unperceiving of us remembered
the breaks we had made, how unfortunate we had said it was for anyone to be engaged
while still in college, and similar remarks. *Marriage was always a popular topic of dis-
cussion, punctuated with a bit of irony from Marj as, “it doesn’t matter how many per
cent there are who are married, you’re sure to be among those who aren’t.”” The most
preferable method of suicide was another topic.
The amusing feature of our intellectual conversation was the way in which the men-
tally weaker of us tried to live up to the standard of the stronger, feigning familiarity
with Bergson, and Eucken, of whom we had read never a word. However little the unphil-
osophical of us contributed, or at times sympathized, we may be glad in after life, when
the world is practical and we are absorbed in actualities, to look back on that leisurely half
hour at breakfast when we expounded our world theories over bacon and eggs.
Berry Fasian.
* See Rock.
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 111
Feuds or Pembroke
HE joke in the Evening Sun about Governor Sulzer, I feel, is applicable to my case;
“now that he is up it, Governor Sulzer may as well take the stump.” I may
state at the beginning, however, that, in giving Pembroke this title, the editor, I hope,
did not imply that only peace abode in other halls. For thereby they lost a great deal.
Variety is the spice of life, and to be uncertain whether one is at swords’ points or on the
best of terms with one’s comrades lends a decided tang to the ordinary routine of meals
and gossip. Ellen was the most uncertain quantity. At most unexpected moments she
would bounce up from the table in a rage—perhaps because a certain innocent victim of
her wrath accidentally spilt a glass of water on her. Dee also was most undependable, for
one could never tell when, with popping eyes and set chin and clawing hands, she would
sputter about the niggardliness of the college supply of milk for such nervous wrecks as
herself. Nat perhaps was the most vociferous, shall I say, scrapper. She would drown
out all the other voices in her efforts to convince Mary and Olga that it was disgraceful
not to swell the ranks of the Seniors on Taylor steps. There would be a hot retort from
the insurrectionists and one felt that there might have been a hand-to-hand fight but for
the timely intervention of some such sane person as Maud. It goes without saying that
Iki at all times of the day was heaping vituperative epithets on someone’s head. Fortu-
nately the scapegoat was always changing and did not remain long in her bad graces.
Even Sarah, who should have been a divinity student, indulged in many heated moral
discussions—as to the influence for better or for worse of the Hinglish Club’s noisy and
profane parade from the lower hockey field via Taylor to the Library during Senior
singing. However, belligerent as all this seems, it was not as dreadful as it sounds. If.
there were feudal times (pardon the pun) they only amounted to momentary tiffs. More-
over, as I have said, they made life in Pembroke all the more interesting. In conclusion,
I shall add a quotation from Louise Haydock’s original and own speech for thé Gym
steps. By way of explanation I may add that seventeen of Miss Haydock’s friends wrote
as many speeches for her. Needless to say, her own effort was not used. The quotation
runs as follows: “Don’t hurt yourselves laughing.” BR. ¥. M:
112
/
—eeeeeemeret
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Envoy
Take with thee now upon thy ways
A memory of drowsy days
With books that chance one’s mood to please
And sunlight flickering through the trees;
Of pleasant converse ’round the fire
With clink of tea-cups to inspire;
Of tasks made light by jest and quip;
Of gay, brave-hearted comradeship—
Be this thy part, O little book,
And who upon thy faults will look?
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 113
Gand 19443
Class Addresses
Agree Asm oie tue a Ak ea a gia la ae as 501 Grand Avenue, St. Paul, Minnesota
Sinst Wank AWHMRTON (oe OO RR i 6) ik ei eee Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania
Cacusa Teens BARCHLE 4 ee 6420 North Eleventh Street, Oak Lane, Philadelphia
Donorags' on Former Batowin (3.06. aoe = - 133 East Sixty-fifth Street, New York City ~~
AIDA CROMWELL TOARNOS 6 ere a is 355 West End Avenue, New York City
TIM SUANIFA ARBOR Coco ee 2 ee a oy eae in eG aaa Glenolden, Pennsylvania
CKO TARTHOLOMIW ae a ih eh el Oe a Sai 4527 Walnut Street, Philadelphia
Misaurnren Goi BAstemre 0. rg es 201 North Fiftieth Street, Philadelphia
Winira Vigietk AMIE a ak Sw +. lel FN Gae, eamepainlers Columbus, Mississippi
Minnacer Guana BLAIIO 66 a High Street, Taunton, Massachusetts
‘ Dorotny Turner Brake ....... . Care of E. B. Symonds, 50 State Street, Boston, Massachusetts
franhon, MUMANOR HONTECOU,. CR ry So a eS, 150 Highland Avenue, Orange, New Jersey
CrarissA BrockstmpT,. . ..... ICR esos 8 I 4902 St. Louis Avenue, St. Louis, Missouri
omit CHAPIN SAROWEE he a a. eae! lease yay 315 Lowry Annex, St. Paul, Minnesota nm Ny
Qi Hanne EATON BROWNG)) oe eet a 705 Devonshire Street, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania thomas t Cenaung y af ‘
Jessie Crow BucHANAN..... . A he 473 West State Street, Trenton, New Jersey
RSOHOLYH ROUGE ee eae eee ONO aa aso fe. Syracuse, New York ee HH)
t Marion DorornEa CiINTON Bs ro ae 0) aa nara roads a . - Portland, Oregon, 295 Foeatiosth SE '
Joueparae COCKRETL 05) Ore CS ae 4107 Gaston Avenue, Dallas, Texas “45 ys faci Dowd. j
‘Jeane Bore Coopen 370 fe Care of Studio Club, 35 East Sixty-second Street, New York City F) ‘ i
fa. fart Rain Maaae COMIN 2 Tk eg bee 490 West End Avenue, New York City Poulan a i
LARA BatLarp Crocker, (Mrs. Courtenay Crocker) . . . . 503 Audubon Road, Boston, Massachusetts
face (ondines Cro NUUERTRS SPATIINOW. oe ec ee oS RT es St. Clair, Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania
Dororny Lrvinaston Davis . 3... ee ee 60 West Seventy-sixth Street, New York City ;
AGMe DENN ee Care of Horace E. Deming, 15 William Street, New York City a
Fiorence Maup Dessau .......... 301 West One Hundred and Sixth Street, New York City i
VA OONE UES BOLO tet neta oye Ta Lal an aE ai aiyia se Winnetka, Illinois
Beten Lupprmveron Evans. .......-:--:- 218 Roland Avenue, Roland Park, Baltimore, Maryland }
Wer cu Wierd ATLAIE, arn e ce We eae oi o 6) co Be mt Panama os 97 Evanston, Illinois
Wet OAULR NB er eal es oie ee ween MLE ORGRW coatact Keene, New Hampshire
114 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Class Addresses—Continued
Louis leine Grist. 3) oy ee ss 1120 North Eleventh Street, Birmingham, Alabama
Rak : Cpe Avram Gomme a : 2308 North Broad Street, Philadelphia
IsaBELLE PeNNocK Haines @Mrs. John W. Nicholson) ........2.... Moorestown, New Jersey
- BARA: RIARION MASOe 820 ee 3318 North Seventeenth Street, Philadelphia
mera: CRO TA AMIE 8 ee ee Ee Tenafly, New Jersey
tr Narotd Wwe srivi PEATRIWAY fe as ee ae, 505 West Chelten Avenue, Germantown, Pennsylvania
PAM, SAUW) MOAT SO gee es ee 242 Canton Avenue, Milton, Massachusetts
ATMO EAMATOND 6 sins gy EI Se ge coh ah WERE CO CT Ad Wayne, Pennsylvania
V¥Hitipecanp Gemraupe HENDERSON. . 6.0. 1 1 ie Monadnock, New Hampshire
Taveias: TIMMDEROON a . . 2a a 164 Washington Street, Cumberland, Maryland
SOSMRTRUDE ONBIONS ON. ok 7 ee. 78 Douglas Road, Glen Ridge, New Jersey
Maun Waiseuncn Houems ew 3860 Page Avenue, St. Louis, Missouri
WIORWNCRARION (4000 ee. es 813 West Main Street, Norristown, Pennsylvania
VURRTIAM TUE DOW ke gee... eb ain che earn aye Tokio, Japan
Oras Peseanern Baepewiheisy 605k Eutaw Place, Baltimore, Maryland
TAUBK RONMENT oe eo eo ee eee cs OES Care of Mrs. E. C. Fonda, Rupert, Vermont
ANNE LAMBERTON (6) Goes) eg es. eS ae 4403 Osage Avenue, West Philadelphia
PIWEMN TR ee kk eee es. 1002 South Forty-fifth Street, Philadelphia
. Bis wend mwa SOPHIA LOVE Cr. GO la ee Hobart Street and Schenley Park, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
P MHMARA SOYOR AGEN 1 040561. eee. 330 North Ninth Street, Lebanon, Pennsylvania
ms Peawons' Rravanwrn NAVINGATOW (5. ee ee Flushing, New York
Whoa Verne Man 2 ee eG Om Wards Island, New York City
Bistinern YARNWAts MAGUIRE °° 5.03. Re. ee ee eam 3813 Spruce Street, Philadelphia
Morn Com Mancuwermgs) 5.032 2s Be 171 Spencer Street, Winsted, Connecticut”
Lowise® Matt ace io oi ee 33 West Northampton Street, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania
MAnGUERICG MIQUE 630 i oe, Ck 1356 North State Street, Chicago, Illinois
Locips: Powton Menenpes «2 5 eG kk 119 Old Church Road, Greenwich, Connecticut
ORANN@ITE MINNIAM 9 ee 741 Delaware Avenue, Buffalo, New York
. ean, DeeiOk MAM 2539 North Seventeenth Street, Philadelphia
Mancaner Apetaipe Munnor™............. Re eae 5732 Thomas Avenue, Philadelphia
Cuara Hunsicker Murray . . . . Charles Street Avenue and University Parkway, Baltimore, Maryland
Pisnsonre NEANCHS MUERAY <2 ee 206 Main Street, Binghamton, New York
THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN 115
Class Aoresses—Continued
Canolors Louise, NAGE. foo ae ee, 83 Pleasant Street, Meriden, Connecticut
CAnOHINE) RYAN NASH) O05 sie 0's oie 1 "1798 Q Street, N. W., Washington, District of Columbia (
b dates “r Brarnicn CORNELIA NATHANB 3.0000 (0 Segoe 614 North Sixteenth Street, Philadelphia '!) .\) >)
eae Ee OO Cen Ee ark wus vin Se ah 55 Sanford Avenue, Flushing, Long Island, New York! }\ 0%
cE fran Mie (wie ee erie oo ae, 411 Pine Street, Philadelphia
SAR GA MUARING ABICH PAGH SC oct hig. vai oe ann te, S's 6 Grosvenor Square, London, England
m wht 2 4 Auice Dupury Patrmrson. .........- ec 1 NAT a Mean Re ea Eg ec) Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia
* TP NVESENES PIER INS oe ah haar ON a) Aca la i MRE a ia Dallas, Texas
stn Wiss Vege i ere Oa ee BRE 5 0 nd RA iomamn eye at a isk BL Ontario, Oregon
CLARA FRNNIMAN POND) oo siccis jecarud 4 os (Se feivlbamenaney. cove cmnuearans State College, Pennsylvania
Mes TOV Sa reece we els Our Es a ay 129.BieldAvenue, Detroit, Michigan V7 BI
¥ GWERDOLAN FLA WHOM hie ee ee Ree 3767 Clifton Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio
Prue Were CI ee io ss ke ee 22 East Ninety-fourth Street, New York City
MMA SLLARS FUOBURTBON 0 6057 sobs oe Ora ae he a a eng 4310 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia
Panel — PRANCMS UREN ROBSON SrA Pari ian Conshohocken, Pennsylvania
"Kassageen Reniy Scmapr se ei ee 900 South George Street, York, Pennsylvania si.
Marearer Scruces (Mrs. Raymond P. Caruth): ere Se ar ee 742-North-Ervay-Street;Dallasy'Texas “})>
Marie Graves ScuppER ©. - Gee ee ee eee pas eae 1314 Judson Avenue, Evanston, Illinois :
hii em te. Ss... 1511 North Sixteenth Street,-Philadelphia) »:!) 0"
Lucite SHADBURN (Mrs. Jones Du Bignon Yow) .... 2... eee eee ees Avalon, Georgia 1304 |
MARY SHELDON ee Pe oe so eM hc 6' oe eins 38 Bellevue Place, Chicago, Illinois
MARY FisGh SHMNBTONG 6 pie tg hoo) ier ommd ie imc lial 40 Walmer Road, Toronto, Canada
EvizABpetH TAYtoR SHIPLEY......... Fae ls RR Bae e DRC Nis die Haverford, Pennsylvania
ADBEAI DIGUGLAR: OUMPEON 655s Ss Seer s es ss eae US 87 Hamilton Place, New York City
Eprra Racuen STEELE . ...... es eave 214 Delaware Avenue, West Pittston, Pennsylvania
DA Atay: SuTeONe a ee 81 Cottage Street, New Bedford, Massachusetts »
VVONNE STODDARD OR a i ce aati 197 Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts
WAEINATH STOHR 4... 60-6 050405 5 HAG GE \ o)'y Gara Tai w 98 ca) uyntals Velltanemg Lambertville, New Jersey
Karnantne Hovaaton Sroum -) 36 2. ek ig ee ee 4847 Ellis Avenue, Chicago, Illinois
NORA ELAGTINGS SWARZY eal cli es be he siete eh ee sca eh oe op apcansaniohiet «7 6 Honolulu, Hawaii
NN Awneiin Swit Oe a oe eal a 20 West Fifty-fifth Street, New York City
wAtice Marton Taytor (Mrs. Grey Burleigh) .... 2... 2-22 ee ee ee ee Addressimknown
a.
” Frorence Mary Wetsu (Mrs. George A. Douglas). . . . . 265 West Eighty-first Street, New York City
BS sabres AUR POUR SUL a aa Dedham, Massachusetts
AEM DURE SUMO ee ed ae Wilson Farm, Paoli, Pennsylvania - telah Gurney |
Zaypa JusTINE ZaBRISKIE (Mrs. Frank Henry Buck) . 3638-Fackson-Street;SanFrancisco;Califernia q Pile
ASOUPRIN Tem a Me On a ae - . Glencoe, Illinois 10g
116 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-THIRTEEN
Class Avoresses—Continnen
Seems Dare Re a eae ce ea ae Hopkinsville, charg
ALPHA Srantey: DHWING 0c) ie fis by Me dae eee ee Ce * hio
AOR LOMLENBON Sy 0) 65), RCT el i os as 26 ! Birman mesie ae oan
Mant Van Anapaus Touegue, 6.6066 ek ok as oh West Lanvale Street, Baltimore, Maryland
Grice Turner i093 2 f) ess. Care of Miss E. M. Mann, 300 Grayling Avenue, Narberth, Pennsylvania ( we
REM VOR a ay ee ce: Ree 1210 West Tenth Street, Wilmington, Delaware sn
Raman W, Warmt i oe ke I eS Bryn Mawr Club, East Fortieth Street, New York City
Rathi SOBRTA WALTON 3204 6 is 5 ks ae . « « Hummelstown, Pennsylvania
/Marraa pe Raismes Warrin (Mrs. Hugh McCulloh Branham),
Care of Ensign H. M. Branham, Navy Department, Washington, District of Columbia
fra. Puck Jot Huttads Goons
Oredenost, Pad -
Pith
a Pquhdrowuw roxy zq- juss
qua oak. TroySo ——--
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© FnasgenT Pruner sh i ee
Ohare Fray
Pe ee
Fduo Cel est 30 - ng
oN cael em v2
Ladies’ J ULRICH
Tailoring
Dressmaking
Fine Furs
PHILADELPHIA
Known for the Best at the Most Attractive Prices
1212
Walnut
Street
A5 Years
Making Glasses
Your oculist knows our work and when we fill the
prescription you are assured of accuracy in every detail
J. L BORSCH & CO.
Opticians
1324 WALNUT STREET
i i
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3
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Pho ten
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2,
Che H#arulty
$n HM#lemortam
Soseph Wright
February 20, 1910
Professor of Mathematics at Bryn War College
jrettie Maria Stevens
Way 4, 1912
Associate in Morphology at Bryn Wawr College
Helen Schaeffer Huff
FJanuatrp 19, 1913
Reader in Mathematics at Bryn War College
at Le
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‘09 GO0d HaMd FASANAD AHL
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—— QasaG pul -.JO0)..- 3B JO UD.
P. Ni DEGERBERG
Meee Hee eeeee *
WSOP SLs Sys s.8 8 3°$
Some FEES SESE Ses $
ere ewe eee eee .
2900 q
20
= (Wen’s and =
Women’s =
2999
2099
Caifor =
2990
2009
9990
2990
2200
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“Theo. F- Siefert
1621 Chestnut Street
1426 Walnut Street PHILADELPHIA
TRNKA & KOLAR
%
Ladies’ Taifors !
and
Hakit Wakers !
214 SO. 121TH ST.,-PHILADELPHIA
Bell Phone, Walnut 3185
FLOWERS
Cut Flowers Plants
Design and Cluster Work
GAUL’S FLOWER ROOM
FRANK P. GAUL, Proprietor
17 SOUTH THIRTEENTH STREET
PHILADELPHIA
Both Phones
HERBERT SPENCER & CO.
Women’s and Misses’
Outergarments
and Furs
1322 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA
Bell ’Phone NEW YORK
Individual Service
at Whitman
CCASIONALLY a good old customer reminds
O us of the days when, with box and tongs,
one was permitted to select one’s favorites
from our many trays of sweets.
From this quaint practice came the modern
“Individual Service” system of knowing our cus-
tomer’s favored assortment and, at a word, sending
that assortment anywhere. Ask for a card of sorts
to make your choice.
1316
Chestnut Street
Philadelphia
CUT DECORATIVE
FLOWERS PLANTS
JOHN J. CONNELLY
Filet unl,
\
LANCASTER AVE., ROSEMONT, PA.
Telephone 252A
MARCEAU
STUDIO——#
Special Rate
to Students
1609 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
PHILADELPHIA NEW YORK
IMPORTED AND DOMESTIC
GOWNS AND WAISTS
AT REASONABLE PRICES
1¢7 AND 109 SOUTH THIRTEENTH STREET
(Thirteenth Street just below Chestnut)
PHILADELPHIA
SUMMER TRAVEL RISKS
IN ANY PART OF THE WORLD
Loss of Personal Effects from Any Cause
Damage to Automobiles
Personal Injuries or Loss of Life
ai
LONGACRE & EWING tai Sette Fon Sros
PHILACELPHIA
£6) PE CEND
Quality Counts
Quality Drug Shop
“WINSLOW”
1046 LANCASTER AVENUE, BRYN MAWR, PA.
915 LANCASTER AVENUE
ANNOUNCEMENTS
PROGRAMS TICKETS
LETTER HEADS BOOKLETS, Etc.
BILL HEADS
JOHN J. McDEVITT
PRINTING
BRYN MAWR, PA.
(Next to the Public School)
Arts and Crafts Guild of Philadelphia
Invites you to its exhibition and salesroom
JEWELRY, SILVER-WORK
POTTERY AND BASKETS
Orders are Executed in all the Crafts
No. 235 SOUTH ELEVENTH STREET
EDWARD L. POWERS
Saddlery, Trunks, Bags, Suit Cases and
Tore Sporting Goods “svePats*
902-9095 LANCASTER AVENUE, BRYN MAWR, PA
Bell Telephone, Market 299 ESTABLISHED 1£61
Alexander Sloan, Jr., & Co.
225 Market Street
Philadelphia
GYMNASIUM YACHTING and CAMPING
JUMPERS OUTFITS
FLAG MANUFACTURERS
HELENA MACDOWELL
Hand-Made Novelties Ladies’ Neckwear
Stamped Goods
D. M. G. Crochet and Embroidery C. ttcns
869 LANCASTER AVENUE
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
HAIRDRESSING MANICURING
Thirteenth Street, above Chestnut
FACIAL SCALP
ABOUT PRESCRIPTIONS
Prescriptions compounded by gracuates in pharmacy only,
at all hours, and absolute accuracy guaranteed.
Night Bell promptly answered. Prescriptions delivered
promptly by r ailroad or messenger.
Frank W. Prickitt
Greduate in Pharmecy
Rosemont \p
> Penna.
Bryn Mawr
Dutch Silverware
Silver Jewelry
Art Pottery
Arts and Crafts
Ware
Special Made Jewelry
and Stone Mounting
our Specialty
Dinner Cards
Tally Cards 3
Birthday Cards and ;
ay,
Booklets a
Cards and Booklets &
for all occasions
Social Stationery
and Engraving
DUTCH SHOP
THINGS OUT OF THE ORDINARY
College Pins and
Rings Made Special,
Gold or Silver
139 South 13th Street
Bet. Chestnut and Walnut Sts.
Philadelphia
Bell Phone
Walnut 42-85
J. M. STOEVER
The Broad Street Station
Pharmacy
OUR PRESCRIPTIONS ARE COMPOUNDED IN AN
ENTIRELY SEPARATE DEPARTMENT
WE SOLICIT YOUR PATRONAGE
SIMAN BROS. TAILORS
See your home tailors before going elsewhere. We have
a great variety of the finest domestic and imported fab-
rics. Our aim is good fitting and best workmanship.
We remodel and press suits at moderate prices.
MAX SIMAN >
Proprietor SIMAN BROS.
1008 Lancaster Avenue
Phone, Bryn Mawr 602A Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Jayne’s Expectorant
HIS Valuable Remedy for Coughs
and Colds has been sold generally
throughout the world for nearly
one hundred years. It ts believed
that no similar remedy has been
used so widely nor for so long a
period, and that none has given more universal
satisfaction.
It can be purchased at any druggist’s, either in
Liquid or Tablet form.
HOSKINS’
nusinees OCAtLONELY
904-906 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY R. HALLOWELL & SON
Hot-House and Imported
Fancy Fruits
The Real Estate Trust Company Building
Broad and Chestnut Sts., Philadelphia
The Provident Life and
Trust Company of
Philadelphia, Pa.
Insures Lives
Acts as Executor, etc.
Accounts Solicited
Deposits by Mail
Monthly Statements by Mail
Travelers’ Cheques
Write for Leaflet
Fourth and Chestnut Sts.
WESTLING, EMMETT & CO.
BANKERS
INVESTMENT SECURITIES
437 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA
CHICAGO, ILL, ALBANY, N. Y. WAVERLY, N. Y.
€. W. Clark & Zo.
BANKERS
ESTABLISHED 1837
Members New York and Philadelphia Stock Exchanges
321 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA
ESTABLISHED
1865
BIOREN & CO.
BANKERS
314 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia
Dealers in Railroad Equipment, Street
Railway and other Public
Utility Securities
Members Philadelphia and New York Stock Exchanges
CiarENcE L. HarPer Abert E.. TuRNER
HARPER & TURNER
INVESTMENT BANKERS
Members Philadelphia Stock Exchange
STOCK EXCHANGE BUILDING
PHILADELPHIA
Lists of high grade investment securities submitted
on request
FURS cogtiry
QUALITY
At Moderate Prices
ARNO R. NEUBER
(LATE WITH BLAYLOCK & BLYNN)
Successor to seas 1 14
CHAS. CROWDER South Eleventh St.
THE AGNES IRWIN SCHOOL
2011 DeLancey Place
Philadelphia
WILL OPEN FOR THE FORTY-FOURTH YEAR ON THURSDAY,
SEPTEMBER 26, 1913.
SOPHY DALLAS IRWIN, Head Mistress.
Bell Phone, Filbert 29-49 Keystone Phone, Race 253
Hie REROE
Dealer in the Finest Quality of
Beef, Veal, Mutton, Lamb
AND SMOKED MEATS
1203 Filbert Street Philadelphia
COTRELL & LEONARD
ALBANY, N. Y.
Makers of Caps, Gowns and Hoods
To the American Colleges from the
Atlantic to the Pacific
Correct Gowns for all Rich Gowns for Pulpit
Degrees and Bench
SAUTTER’S
CONFECTIONERY "2"
Ladies’ Lunch Room
1227 Chestnut Street Philadelphia
QUALITY
Lewandos Work is a Standard
of Excellence
LEWANDOS
Americas Greatest
CLEANSERS DYERS
Phigte Pha 1633 Chestnut
Telephone, Spruce
Calls and Delivery by Our Own Motors
NEW YORK BALTIMORE WASHINGTON’ PROVIDENCE
NEWPORT HARTFORD NEW HAVEN’ CAMBRIDGE
WATERTOWN LYNN and other Cities
Quality Built Our Business
Millentergers
, ss
13th at Sansom Sts.
CANDIES # tis"
Our 60c. Chocolates
are equal to those sold at 80 cents and $1.00
the pound elsewhere
Phones: Bell, Spruce 4387
FRANK L. POLITES
FLOWER SHOP
1418 CHESTNUT STREET PHILADELPHIA
Keystone, Race 20-47
JOHN: 32 TROWER
CATERER 4x» CONFECTIONER
5706 MAIN STREET
GERMANTOWN, PHILA.
Bell and Keystone Telephones
Seven Fridays in One Week
Fitzgerald’s Terminal Market
EAST WALL PHILADELPHIA
Sea Food in All Varieties
Special attention to sub-
Special discounts to hotels,
urban patronage
institutions, etc.
JOHN HAAG CO.
Butter, Eggs and Poultry
Reading Terminal Market
Philadelphia, Pa.
YE" E BOOK OF
THE CLASS OF
AN NINETEEN-
THIRTEEN IS
FROM THE PRESS OF
THE JOHN C. WINSTON
COMPANY, 1006 ARCH
Sis, PHILADELPRIA
SAAT AMAA/RAELLELION
THE LARGEST FACILI-
TIES FOR PRINTING
AND BINDING ARE
OFFERED AT: REA~
SONABLE PRICES
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Bryn Mawr College Yearbook. Class of 1913
Bryn Mawr College (author)
1913
serial
Annual
176 pages
reformatted digital
North and Central America--United States--Pennsylvania--Montgomery--Bryn Mawr
9PY 1913
Book of the class of 1913 : Bryn Mawr College.--
https://tripod.brynmawr.edu/permalink/01TRI_INST/1ijd0uu/alma99100332675...
BMC-Yearbooks-1913