THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 185
so great beauty and dignity over us, the very incarnation of all our best of grave and gay,
appeared in a short peculiar costume, topped off by an old straw hat tied down, and Rock
came back last, just to remind us of the eternal verities. All possible incipient outbreaks of
a painfully frank sentimentalism were forever extinguished long before the first notes of
Pallas brought silence upon our variegated company. We made pilgrimage to the little tree
hard by the Deanery, the inconspicuous infant which Mr. Foley had for many weeks con-
cealed so elaborately from the prying undergraduate eye. And there, in the wet darkness,
with no romantic natural assistance, and with a broken whisper of sympathy for the slum-
berers in the Deanery, we did real honour to a good custom. Once more we were reminded
of that sad finality which is the inevitable forerunner of new beginnings, and pledged loyalty
to the memory of our beautiful youth together at Bryn Mawr.
Marion D. CRANE.
