Bryn Mawr College Yearbook. Class of 1910

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Board of Editors

Editor-in-Chief
RutrH GEorGE

Editors
KATHARINE LIDDELL, E1sA DENISON

Editor of Statistics Maker of Designs
| ELIZABETH SWIFT CHARLOTTE V. SIMONDS

Business Manager
Izette TABER

Assistant Business Managers
Miriam Hepces, DorotHEea Cote, AGNES IRWIN



















Table of Contents

Freshman Bear ce

Casth OPV UUEE 02 ica ewe Fa peda ebb nsebecesenee 10
CAUBNDER 16s iueres capes ee cine bed e vueer ee eae
Fmst Crass Meetinc—Margaret James........... 12
Lirrnzr Mavupne anp Her Mama Visrr Bryn

Mawr—Madeleine Edison...... eeu Ghle ies rea alia
Rusuw Nicut—Héléne Pelletier................+. 61s
SopHomorE Pray anp Dance—Dorothy Nearing... 15
Lantern Nicgur—Katharine Liddell.............. 16
Tue Amazons—Elizabeth Tenney..... dak sex v ase
In roe Day or Dany Tuemes—Ruth George..... 18
“Axice aT Bryn Mawr’—lIzette Taber.......... vie
Frrsuman Crass Surren—Katherine Rotan........ 22
Our Aveust Senions—Margaret M. James........ 23
FresHMAN ATHLETICS........ eee tie da iste wisp 9 eee 25
PARMORIAN 6.5 ood Wea ible ¢ oieisiWix a Wale ds ble wea e'd QT

Sophomore Bear

Cuass Orricens, Orrices HEeLp py THE Crass........ 29
SAPMWDAR ices Coe eee CHB secu bids tb ee veces ee
SopHomore Pray—Madeleine Edison.............. $81
SopHomore Lantern Nicut—Marion Kirk........ 33
“Tue Importance oF Berna Earnest’—Margaret

BE, fe) BANOS sis eats eens elec bacine's bets} oars 34
“Romeo anp Juuiet’—Katharine Liddell...... a 36
Water Poto—Janet Howell............0000: oe eee re
Cortese Breaxrast—Hléne Pelletier............. 38
SorpHomore Surrer—Madeleine Edison............ 39
Pickine THE Datstes—Rosalind Romeyn........... 40
SopHomMore ATHLETICS. ......-.0..0-0005 dinlecdweieeaaeel ae

Junior Bear a

Cxass Orricers anp Orrices Hep spy THe Crass.... 45
CAUNNDER: iiiwe ces LN Vea behene viele eenes cues 46
Banner Pray, 1910 ro 1912—Susanne Allinson.... 47
Tue Preswentiat Evection—Mary Worthington... 48
A Wiyter Ipte—Margaret Shearer............... 51
Hocxey Junior Year—Mary Worthington........ 52
Tue New Gyrmnastum—Elsie Deems............. . 54
Hockey at Bryn Mawr Cortece—Ruth George.... 56
Tue Cuitpren’s Hourn—Margaret Shearer......... 57
Dancine III—Ruth George ...... ccvecvccsssesae OB
Tue Mevea—Hilda W. Smith..........seeeeeenees 60
Taxinoe THE Srers—Katharine Liddell............ 62
JUNIOR ATHLETICS. .....0000005 ib bial ew winin swore eer . 64

Senior Bear PAGE

Crass Orricers aND Orrices Hewp py THE Cuass.... 67
Sorc apaveree 5 ie as kok sean behead ameaeaa ae

Carman bce lee iidaddcsdhaeuseh be ceecoanees sa) oe
Meimimtats ice eeni ccs beak eee de OO ak a ane es
Tue Presentation or THE Sun D1at—Susanne
Allinson ...... EL ie did cai Rwheaan ee veauseubaene’ Ue
MEMORIAL ....... uate lb peed Wen auna Meaney Rwakaa on) ae
To rue Memory or Frances Jackson—Katherine
Rotan ose cidsie aie Le ahaib' w Geptg wiiote gc uiWey Vdiuidpeab. “te
PHOTOGRAPH ......: Malwivlasienesee oy deme tenes ae
MeEmorIAL ...... Ge Wce lll Wiese dae k ae Ub algnbe wana: wel

Vansiry Hocxey—Katherine Rotan........++++++- 76
Tue No-Procror Sysrem—Hilda W. Smith....... 17
Practica Puitosopuy—Dorothy Ashton.......... 78
Onars—Ruth George.......ccsccccccsccsescessees 19
Sone Renearsats—Elizabeth Tenney..........-. . B81
Tue Expowment Funp—Mary Worthington...... 82
Over THE Way To THE Votive SHaine—Ruth

George sceccoccevvcsses ie hke teu bale Di ewiata » 85
Cuass Teas—Charlotte V. Simonds............006. 87
Sratistica, NonseNsE—Jeanne B, Kerr........+++ 88
A Low Buitpornes Tea—Katharine Liddell......... 90
Trackx—Charlotte V. Simonds..... Be at stl dat oie i am 91
Guzz Crus Concert—Mabel Pierce Ashley........ 93
Tue Fettowsuie Driynen—Frances Storer........- 93
Tue Gentie Art or May Day Maxinc—Elsa Den-

IBOM YE i's ile oa rate ead lalnle k's alates icld'vbe sine cow. com
PHOTOGRAPH ...... PUANGIa Wied aiblata Sata Oke Sie Re wie ene Oe
1910 Basxet-Batxr—Frances H. Hearne.......... 98

Junior-Senion Suppen—Katharine Liddell......... 99
Senior Reception To THE Facutry—Ruth George.. 100
Senior Crass Suprer—Ruth George.......... wie AOE
Two Senior Supper SPEECHES:
Tue Presiwent’s Recertions—Dorothy Ashton... 103
Track—Ruth George..... Rind Gah Gees Lave Vasa 104
Tue Presient’s LuncHeon—Charlotte V. Simonds 106
Bonrme—lIzette Taber............- PU Kdedaae eee ae
Cottece Breaxkrast—Elsie Deems............++.. 109
Garpen Parry—Madeleine Edison..... Piaaae Cheek kOe
Commencement Day—Elizabeth Tenney and Ruth
FFOORBE eek CSUN sk sltb swede new maemo ne eee 110
Wuar’s 1x a Name—Jeanne B. Kerr and Mary
Worthington §. vise c yes cavised vs ee ean 112
Tue Sone Commitrree—Hilda W. Smith...... ieuae bao
Cuaret Remrniscences—Ruth George..... ena ges LT
Crass Propuecy—Elsa Denison..... Bie by wlack re lal Voecet: We
Aruietics—Elizabeth Swift...........eceeseeeess 11
T7TGRVOE ets ea ees bie Ne wuee cue ceue ele biesetth da eel aie
BimrHDAYS AND ADDRESSES..........+.+.+: Sei ea hce ona at 124











Freshman Wear














Freshman Wear
Class Mfficers

Temporary Chairman Temporary Secretary
Frances A. Jackson Mary WorTHINGTON

President

Frances A. JACKSON

Vice-President and Treasurer

HILDEGARDE HARDENBERGH

Secretary
Mary WortTHINGTON








Calendar of Freshman Wear

OCTOBER fi iideyein wees Our First Class Meeting.

OcTOBER: Oia aes saws College Opened.

OcToBERn {Bi wisisesie's isis Class Rush.

Ocrosee Biwi viens ...-Christian Union Reception.

Ocromes Beas s ss President’s Reception.

Ocrosas: 19 vein iste. Senior Reception.

NOVEMBER) $ii6ji5.05 60's 5’ *Varsity Hockey with Belmont.
NoveMBER 6 anv 8 ....Hockey Match Games with 1909.
NovemBeER 8 .......... Lantern Night.

NovemBer' 9 si. .5i5. “Masks and Faces.”

NovemBer 10 ......... *Varsity Hockey with Merion.
NovemMBer 10 ......... Sophomore Dance.

NovemBER 16 ......... Banner Presentation—“The Amazons.”
NoveMBer 24 ........ *Varsity Hockey with Germantown.
DeceMBER 4 .......... *Varsity Hockey with Belmont.

Januaky 10 To 17 ..... Swimming Meet.

January 23, Fesrvary 2.Mid-Years.

JANUARY RO Wc iy cn se Memorial Service for Dr. Irons.
Fesruary 27, Marcu 7.Track Meet. |

Mancow 18 ea i se Freshman Show—“‘Alice at Bryn Mawr.”
Mazon 25 ii iigacan ss Gymnasium Contest.

Aran, 8). 6. ci cs Thomas Wentworth Higginson gave Founder’s Lecture on Whittier.
Apart, 20 2. ure ees Glee Club Concert.

Mad Dis eee May Day Celebration.

May S$. ..5 5 .duaees as Class Dinner.

May TF. 30; 14: ey eo3. Basket-ball Match Game with 1909.

Bae TE yc eee Junior-Senior Supper Play repeated—“La Princesse Lointaine.”
May 22 to June 1 ....Finals.
GONE OC vie i ess geek Commencement,

ll
1910’s First Class Meeting
(With hwmblest apologies to Mr. G. K. Chesterton.)

BJECTION is often raised against a first class meeting, because it lays crude
hands upon, and dives into the deeps of what should be sacred and secret about
a class. Why have a first meeting? Why not leave tenderly unscratched that soil
which will doubtless later yield both peaches and daisies in profusion? Everyone has felt
the glaze of mystery over an unknown group of fellow creatures; surely it is a pity to draw
the veil away too precipitately. Before a crowd has met to analyse itself, it is usually
unconscious of being conscious; after the fatal step has been taken, it becomes conscious
of being unconscious. That is to say, it feels its selfhood sink into interest in the others.
It is a matter of irrelevancy whether a girl wears a bow on her hair, or a pigtail down her
back; whether she has yellow, red, green, or pink eyes; whether her nose is a limb, or no
nose at all, the fact of her having a personality is more startling than all the eyes and noses
in the world.

When we came to Bryn Mawr, we felt we were embarking upon the momentous fact
of our lives. There is usually in the universe nothing as fanciful as fact, nothing as unreal
as reality. We decided, then, if it were a dream, to take our places in the dreaming of it,
and hold this first class meeting. It was first-class; it was first-rate (rated first of all, in
fact) ; it was, in short, excellent and incomparable, there being no others for it to be compared
to, or excel. We held it in the Abernethy’s barn. Poetic spot! Has it ever occurred to
you for what geniuses barns have been responsible? That Burns probably lived in a barn, and
if barns had then been the fashion, that ancient wolf would have inhabited one, and Romulus
and Remus graced our list.

We felt, of course, that ““We were the first that ever burst into that silent sea”; we
wondered how there could ever have been class meetings before ours, and, in fact, whether
the college had existed at all before we came to receive the torch of wisdom. It is the world-
old question of whether the lion roars in the desert, if there is none to hear him, and whether
the college exists, if we are not seeing it. Oh! try, dear classmates, to recall that time, and
become “really full of the ancient ecstasies of youth.” We have not utterly lost our inward
warmth and geniality, under a thin coating of sinister pessimistic philosophy.

That evening, before dark, in early Autumn, we stole to our rendezvous as proudly as
any Baron de Gaulois or Count Vertigo to a duel in ancient days. Each member of 1910

12


was accompanied by a Junior, “her Junior,” she called her then, and a fragment of supper.
I have seen the day when a person’s eyes sparkled as if toasterettes had been diamonds, while
a sardine sandwich moved them to tears. The spoiled portion of humanity may not realise
among their poisonously prepared French cookery the suggestive pathos of a sprig of garlic
or a chunk of scrapple.

The tremendous fact of the meeting, which was as dramatic as the daily rising sun, and
as awful; as melodramatic as its crimson setting, and as much of an anti-climax—was that
the Sophomores did not discover our hiding-place and break it up. We elected our chairman,
and, most happy, ended our evening under the Pembroke Arch.

Marearet M. JAmes.

Little Maude and her Mama Visit 1b. DM.

And See the Mutsive of the Presivent’s Dtice

HE afternoon light was waning as Little Maude and her mama ascended Taylor stairs
and found themselves outside the President’s office.
“What is this galaxy of wilted-looking people, mama?” inquired Little Maude, as
she struggled to find an empty space in which to plant her feet.

“This, my child, is the Freshman Class,” responded her parent, mowing her way through
part of it.

“And are they waiting for the Day of Judgment, mama?” said Maude.

“No, my dear one. They are on their way to interview President Thomas about their
courses.”

“OQ, mama, who is that rude man with his watch in his hand, who nearly knocked me
down just now?”

“Hush, darling; that is an irate father. He has an engagement with the Pennsylvania
R. R. in about three minutes, and he has been here since daybreak. See, they are letting
him and his daughter in. That is the beauty, Maude, of having an irate parent. No
Freshman should be without one. Fathers are just now at a premium, but in a few more
years mothers will do just as well.”

“Yes, mama,” said Little Maude, sagely; “votes for women,” and she readjusted her
suffrage badge. “But, mama, what happens to all those who are not provided with parental
protection?”

18
“They wait here every day until a certain date, dear, and then pay five dollars for not
having their course-book signed.”

“And who are those benevolent-looking girls with yellow-and-white badges, mama, who
stand around with such a look of wisdom?”

“They are walking delegates, Maude, from the Christian Union, who work on an eight-
hour schedule and show the Freshmen how to make out their course-books.” —

“And, O, mama, who is that tall Freshman over there, and what is she talking about so
eagerly?”

“She is telling her class-mates, Maude, what courses she intends to pursue in this first
year of college. It is her ambition to become a medical missionary, and she is going to
devote her time to French, German, and History of Art, registering as a “hearer” in Phil-
osophy, Psychology, Geology, Archaeology, Greek myths, and Pragmatism. After her
interview she will tell them that she has decided to take English, Biology and Physics.”

“But, mama,” cried Little Maude, “none of those are what she intended to take at first.”

“Of course not, my dear; that is the beauty of having an interview!”

“But will the Freshman be happy in having her ideas changed about so?’

“She will not notice that they have been, my dear, until she goes home and thinks it
over. ‘Till then she will be radiant, and after that it will be too late.”

Little Maude became exceedingly quiet.

“Mama,” said she, at last, “when I come to college will I have to interview President
Thomas?”

“Certainly, dear.”

Whereupon Little Maude walked slowly down Taylor steps and gazed long and
thoughtfully at the sunset. MADELEINE Epison.

Rush Might

HERE certainly had been a traitor! There was no other adequate solution, for we
had never sung or even thought of that rush song except when we shouted it in
Music Room G—and that room was sound-proof. It was unfortunate, too, in the

light of Miss Thomas’ repeated allusions to babies and kittens, to have “Wow, wow, wow,”
turned into “Meouw, meouw, meouw,” because even we understood the implied ignominy.
A hurry-up meeting in the afternoon saved the situation with “The Sophs are out this
evening,” and fortunately the song itself was conceived at such a late hour that a repetition
of the morning’s tragedy was not possible.

14


On the ascent to the lower athletic field, we formed into a compact line. One by one
my friends were torn away, and I was gently but firmly shoved into the middle of the line
by Marjorie Young and told to hang as if my life depended on it to two strangers—
Rosalind Romeyn and Annie Jones.

Rush night tradition is to yell as loud as possible, and the rest is a blurred mass of
shrieking, straining and shoving—sometimes in the light, sometimes in the dark, always
unpleasant. My brain remembers dimly a girl behind, who repeated at regular intervals,
“But we'll keep on yay’ling.”

The arch singing ended the din and discord and was by far the best of rush night,
although I was too breathless and exhausted to do more than be thankful that we could be

still. ; HELENE PELLETIER.

The Sophomore pPlap and Dance

OW well we remember the first of those “priceless plays of our gay young days!”
H Till then college had been a rather discouraging round of Freshman blunders and
flunked quizzes, but that night it took on an entirely new aspect. The lights, the
bustle, the gaiety prevalent everywhere carried us into quite another world—a world of
dreams and ideals. And the play satisfied them all. We felt quite sure that, if we should
meet a man like May Egan in everyday life, our fate would be sealed. And how we all
envied Carlie Minor! As for Pleasaunce Baker and Mary Nearing, we had never seen such
actrices in our lives. They were absolutely without flaw. We wept over the miserable little
children who had had “a crust of bread yesterday”; we wept over the sad wife’s appeal to»
Divine Providence, and over Triplet’s cynical “The street is very narrow, and the opposite
houses very high”; we wept again over Peg Woffington’s unparalleled generosity and pitiful
renunciation, and then we felt refreshed and quite ready to felicitate the reunited lovers
in the most satisfactory denouement.

And then the dance, following so close upon that wonderful play, was almost too good
to be true. We saw our favourites at close range, and who shall say that they lost lustre
in their descent? That night, too, marked the beginning of many friendships with the other
members of 1909. Masques and Faces was the first of many good times that we have had
together. We hope that we have not seen the last of them, and that 1909 and 1910 will
always be in the future, as they have been in the past, the best of friends.

DorotHy NEARING.
15
Lantern sight

HE first few weeks of college life had gone by in a whirligig of noise and glare, varied
externally by class meetings, hockey games, physical appointments, medical appoint-
ments, hazing, song rehearsals, lectures receptions, plays, English Reader interviews,

upperclassmen teas, and writing home for money; internally by quick alternations of
dizzy rapture and horrible depression; and unified throughout its diverse phases by a sub-
stratum of intense physical fatigue. Shades of the past, how tired we were in those early
Freshman days! Even now I can rarely pass through Pembroke Arch, where we spent the
tag-ends of so many strenuous, whirling days, without some shadow of the old weariness
striking across my spirit. Small wonder that we looked forward to Lantern Night with
apathy, and anticipated—so far as we had time to anticipate anything—a repetition of
Rush Night, with the fancy costumes slightly varied.

It is in this spirit indeed that we make ready for the evening’s events. Clad in our
shiny, brand new gowns and the wonderful caps, which we have carefully pinned on hind
part before, we dash over to Pembroke Arch to break into the Sophomore line. Where-
upon we are flung out as unceremoniously and indignantly as if this were not an occasion
of mutual love and peace, and, burning with mortification, we dash on again across the
dark campus, locate our own forces, and hitch on to the tail end of the procession, which has
already begun its slow march toward the library.

And as the long line of Freshmen, subdued for the moment, files slowly through the
narrow door into the cloister, something of the real dignity of these grave arches and
stately towers, cutting the starlit sky, steals ever so softly into our consciousness. We
have seen them before, but now in the “sympathetic solitude” of the silent assembled class,
with the dark, soft night about us, and in our ears the plash of the fountain, which melts
into, rather than breaks, the silence, we feel them for the first time. The noise and hurry
of the feverish weeks just past seem, on a sudden, very far away.

So when we hear the first faint notes of the Pallas Athene, they do not seem to us
new or strange, but rather our own thoughts, born of the place and the hour, singing
themselves into music. Nearer and nearer the clear strains come, swelling in silvery cadences
out of the darkness behind us, and beneath the dark stone arches at each side advance in
slow procession two lines of black-robed figures, each bearing a lighted lantern, and swing-
ing it to and fro in the rhythm of the song. The vaulted cloister overflows with soft blue
radiance. The lines have turned now, have joined together on the opposite side of the

16








quadrangle, and are moving toward us; in some magic way they have unfurled themselves
in a great semi-circle before us—a semi-circle of flashing blue light; the last Akouwé has —
swelled from some depth of melody and melted into silver clearness, and our lanterns are in
our hands. No longer strangers, newcomers, intruders, but acknowledged children of Bryn
Mawr, and no longer an accidental and heterogeneous collection of units, but the Class of
1910, with our scholars’ gowns upon our backs and our symbolical lanterns in our hands, we

march forth to our inheritance.
KATHARINE LIDDELL.

The Amaszons

ECAUSE I begin with the thing I remember best about Banner Night, pray don’t
think me flippant. But it made such an impression on me, and raised me to that
desirable position, the center of an admiring throng of envious class-mates, that my

innocent pride, which cannot be suppressed even after three years, must be pardoned. Emily
Fox wore my white duck trousers! You may smile at my childish pride, but if you think
back to the commotion that caused in your own jealous beings, you may understand my
eagerness to recall that thrilling event.

And so, with a really personal interest in the play, far exceeding that another member
of the class might have, I set out. Thrills began the moment the doors were opened, for
it isn’t every day we can be led to our seats by imposing Amazons (I may say, the point of
their costumes didn’t penetrate until many weeks later). And then the play began—we
marvelled at the whole thing, and were suffused with laughter, even when Emily Fox,
trousers and all, fell off the stage. Again my pride soared, for were not my trousers to
break her fall.

It seems like a long step from Pinero to the most serious of Freshmen events, the
presenting of the banner which is to stand by you all through college; but when one has
heard “white wings” for the first time, one forgets everything but its meaning—everything
but the fact that your friends are giving you your own banner and making you part of the
college. Our feelings cannot be expressed. May the song speak for us the impression
we carried away that night.

“Freshmen and friends as ever
Will be true to each other and true to the blue.”

ELIZABETH TENNEY.
17
In the Dap of Daily Themes

T about ten minutes after twelve of our first Thursday we were vouchsafed a vision of
the English Department, in all its fullness. Yellow-brown hair, parted in the center,
and soft like a baby’s on her forehead, then drawn away to the all-comprehensive

net; black-rimmed eye-glasses, that imparted just a touch of “How do I look?” rather than
“The better to see you with, my dear”; and a high, slightly mocking voice, which, along
with her roving glance, suggested that her audience was located on the tips of the Senior
row maples. Some of us don’t know yet whether we liked her or not, but our hearts go
out in pity for the classes that never “had her.” |

She took us in hand at once—some ninety-five back-woodsers. Happy for us that we
didn’t know what raw material we were. But a few helpful hints, just to break ground:
We were never to ¢all each other girls (because we undoubtedly were, and some of us were
sensitive about it) ; we were never to call anyone “broad” (for nobody was) ; we were not to
say “come” for “come in” (how timely! She didn’t tell us not to say “come in” for “stay
out,” which would have been advice more opportune in those days of embarrassed upper-class
inquisition) ; and we were never to say “suit case” for “dress suit case” (not tactful; homesick
tears welled in all eyes). I thought she was going to tell us next about our hair ribbons.
What with the Sophomores and this course in English Comp., I began to feel the desert of
my neglected manners blossom like the rose. I was much moved. Indeed I was reduced
to so tense a degree of receptiveness that, had Miss Hoyt seen fit to entrust to us a method
of making last winter’s suit look like new, a recipe for “cold cream for the beauty bag,” or
the secret of how one bright girl made a vinegar barrel into a parlour divan, I should have
transferred her suggestion fervently without any surprise to the elegant new note-book on
which I had foresightedly penned the supposed name of this unnameable course.

But not so. Miss Hoyt at this point forsakes the field of morals and general culture,
and proceeds to set forth in no uncertain language the inaccessibility of the English Depart-
ment. Dear, dear, did I ever need to be told that! Well, I think she succeeded in intim-
idating even the dauntless Class of 1910. To this day I have not been able to rid myself
of the idea that the English Readers decidedly resent the forced intimacy of having to
discern students afar off on the campus horizon. On no account, she urged, were we to
feel free to address them concerning our work, or in any manner to remind them of the
painful method by which they gained their daily bread, and anyone who chose cheerfully

18




to pass the time of day upon a chance encounter might get an answer in kind, but such
wanton exposure was at one’s own risk; furthermore, we were never to telephone. What
on earth, I wondered, should I ever want to telephone her about; little did I foresee the
exigencies that beset the path of Required English Composition. Dear class-mates, now
that you are four years wiser, can you conceive of yourself in the impious act of asking
Jennie please to tell Miss Fullerton to step to the telephone. I shrivel before the picture
my wayward imagination has summoned. But Miss Hoyt reiterated, we were never to
telephone to Low Buildings—unless, indeed, struck down on our way to an interview. Even
then it was better etiquette to send a committee down in a carriage to wait upon the outraged
interviewer—not with any hope of propitiating her, however. |

Then Miss Hoyt passed out a key to the abbreviations that would be used in correct-
ing our themes, but neglected to elucidate the situation by another key for deciphering their
penmanship. For my part, I basked cheerfully for half a semester in the assurance of an
H. C. before I learned that the sprawling SS all over the vacant half of my themes wasn’t
an 88. Miss Hoyt went on to tell us the one and only way to get papers deferred: Write
a note to Miss Crandall on your best paper, recopy until without spot or wrinkle or any
such thing, deliver in person, standing on one foot to show you aren’t presumptuous; Miss
Crandall with then tell you coldly that she has nothing to do with it, and will send you to
Miss Maddison; you will seek out Miss Maddison, and, in front of one or two secretaries and
stray members of the faculty, you will say how you haven’t been very well, and that Miss
Crandall sent you, ete.; and Miss Maddison will look at you as if she thought you had come
to throw a bomb into the inner office, and will tell you icily that the office has no power—no.
After which you return home and write the said theme. This, as I too distinctly remember,
is the one and only official course for the deferring of English papers.

The rest of the morning and the next six general meetings, together with intervening
division meetings, were taken up with the exposition of the proper manner of folding and
‘endorsing an English theme. Very simple? Well, it takes a Bryn Mawr English Reader
to make you feel that just about the most complicated and all-round tricky job you ever had
to turn out was the time you wrote your own name across the top of a page of foolscap. I
may say that, stimulated by Miss Hoyt’s circumlocution, the Class of 1910 invented seven-
teen different ways, and all were wrong except Katharine Liddell’s, to whom, for her per-
spicuity, Miss Hoyt promptly gave High Credit for the Course, which she certainly earned.

RutH GEorGE.
19
AROS

“Alice at Wrpn Dawr”’

N reading my diary over, I see, under March 15, 1907, the day of our Freshman Show,
the words: “Lots of people think it the cleverest thing given at college.” That
sounds truly like 1910, and might be said to be somewhat prejudiced, but even the Typ

says it was “one of the best plays ever given in college.” We think so, of course; and of
all the marvelous feats that we have performed in college, I think we will all agree that
“Alice at Bryn Mawr” gave us most fun and means most to us, even now.

From the day when Susanne assembled her show committee to decide between the
glaring Denbeigh Melodrama and Mary Worthington’s apt application of “Alice in Wonder-
land” to Bryn Mawr, we lived Freshman Show. In the true spirit of 1910, every member
in the class tried for the part of “Alice”; and Jeanne and Betty still speak with tears in their
eyes of the afternoon when their tiny corridor was overflowing with 1910, dressed in short
white frocks, pink sashes and socks, and with hair down their backs. The choice was diffi-
cult, but Babby proved to be all that was most ingénue and delightful. The rest of the
caste was not so difficult, and soon every idle moment was spent learning parts. Such was
our industry that Peggy James, our idlest, was found to be restraining her propensity for
social tubs, and using those few daily moments repeating her lines to the four porcelain
walls. Copies of the play had to be made, and for days Susanne’s floor was covered with
sprawling figures, scratching off parts.

The costumes, of course, were most elaborate, and none but the ingenious heads of
1910 could have devised the ways and means necessary to manufacture them within the few
hours allowed to each member of the class. Division of labour was carried to such a fine point
that it was Boggsie’s one and only task to make tails for the animals.

»
Helen Hurd and Janet Howell spent every free minute performing wonderful tricks
with brush and paint, and, needless to say, the scenery was most realistic. We didn’t realise
it, however, at the time—we didn’t realise anything except that it was work, work, work,
and then we didn’t see how things could be finished. Everyone chipped in earnestly and
eagerly, and with a few rehearsals scattered here and there, in less than a week, the curtain
was ready to go up. Four o’clock that afteynoon of the performance, on realising that
there was no way of making our glorious dragon-fly visible as it soared upward in the black
realms of an unlighted stage, I had hurried to town for an unknown quantity named
luminous paint. No wholesale dealer had heard of it, and finally some divine power directed
my steps to a strange basement paint-shop, looking more like a Chinese junk-shop. There
the valuable article was found, and with trembling steps I arrived at college, just in time
to paint the precious animal before the curtain rose. What was my horror, as we broke forth
in song in honour of our beauteous dragon-fly, to discover no sign of the insect. I could
see Mary Boyd and Pinky Ashton pulling the ropes, but no insect. The paint, after all,
wasn’t working!

After that everything went wonderfully. Alice won the hearts of the audience; Kate’s
“Baked potatoes yesterday! Baked potatoes to-morrow! Always baked potatoes to-day!’
and even Jeanne’s and Peggy’s jokes about Taylor’s tardiness—stale at that stage to us—
brought down the house. All went well till the black list animals entered and stumbled
around the stage, quite unable to see through their masks, and endeavouring to do a little
of everything, sang their plaintive song, keeping time with dumb-bell exercises. In their
breathless exit they quite overlooked Humpty Dumpty, and overstepped him as well, knock-
_ing him flat.

The dances under Pat Murphy’s management—rather a joke, don’t you think, consider-
ing Pat’s rapid promotion in the dancing classes?—were all that is delightful; and the take-
off on the gym class most amusing. The babies and kittens were adorable, and Bill’s
Cheshire smile kept the gym in gales of laughter. The whole play went as on greased
wheels—need it be said, with Elsa as a stage manager? and soon we were singing “Thou
Gracious Inspiration!” the ninety of us crowding. on the stage at once, overwhelmed with
the glorious success, and Betty Swift, having lost part of her usher’s costume in her excite-
ment, standing in her “nightie arrayed.”

That “Alice” was a great success, no one can deny, and 1910, of course, appreciated
the fact even more than the highly-appreciative audience. Annie Jones, thrilled even by
playing the accompaniments, rushed behind the stage and, clasping poor, little, dazed Cabby,

a1
kissed her wildly on both cheeks. We all were mad with excitement, and rushing in wild
hilarity to our halls, gave the performance over and over again, till the “wee, sma’ hours

ended the glorious day of “Alice in Bryn Mawr.”
IzeTTE TABER.

Freshman Class Supper

UR Freshman Class Supper! I wonder if all the rest of the class think of it with
the same large capitals that I do. It was our entrance into society, our first bit of
riotous living, and I remember now with the keenest delight the excited thrills that

ran up and down my back as we marched up the west stairs, singing vigorously, “Sophs
are out this evening.” ‘The other classes lined around the walls were probably commenting
on our prodigious vainglory—there’s been some talk of it, I believe, even in later years—
but I remember thinking, sympathetically, then, “It’s too bad, but you’ll have to make the
best of it. We can’t all be 1910.” I was so excited that when I got to my seat, I promptly
sat in a glass of lemonade, a little episode which was repeated several times during the
evening. ‘Then a breathless hush fell upon the company, and Hildegarde gave me a poke,
and I don’t remember anything more till I sat in another glass of lemonade, and woke
up—the cooling freshness of the lemonade had something to do with it, I believe—to see
the Upperclassmen and Sophomores filing slowly out of the room. Then there fell another
solemn hush—we weren’t quite used to ourselves in company clothes, and didn’t know just
what to do—but some over-bold huzzy—to tell the truth, I think it was Kirk—began beating
faintly on the table with her knife and fork, so we all took courage, and the clamour soon
reached terrific heights. At intervals we paused to toast our own future, our own hockey,
our own basket-ball, our own statistics, our own motto, our aspirations, and finally our
breaks. Our own affairs were in evidence all right that night, just as they have been
ever since. We finished up gloriously, singing “Auld Lang Syne,” with one foot on the
table, in the orthodox fashion. And, as our Irish Ros would say, “Sure, and there’ll niver
be anither sich.”

Kate Roran,
22


Mur August Seniors

To tell, or not to tell; that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and slammings of outrageous classmates,
Or to take arms against a sea of teasings,

And by resenting, end them. But this must end.
No more a copy of far worthier poet,

But story of my own I’d here inscribe;

The Hamlet speech it now leaves far behind,
But way of telling may remain the same.

As Bacon is to Shakespeare near allied,

So is this scribe to Shakespeare next of kin.
(Now, do not smile, my friends, nor pity him)
“On with the tale, let joy be unconfined.”

“In our Freshman year,
When we first came here,
We saw 1907 dignified Seniors.”
(Were there as many as that, you ask. My prompt reply,
unfortunately, no, only 80.)

These eighty fine and splendid forms of life

To us were stars serene that dwelt apart.

They knew us not by name, nor seemed to see;

But when one smiled, a Freshman trod on air.

The play they had to us seemed marvellous

(Seemed, madam? Was. We but think “seemed,” since then) ;
So, in return we gave vent to sweet song,

And poured our grateful feelings on the air.

Our Juniors had not entered on our ken;

We thought we praised the highest thing in sight,

And pleased with what we'd done, were much distressed
To find due etiquette had been o’erlooked.

i”
£3
But this is not the worst; there follows more—
Deep hid within the Freshman, young and green,
_ A secret longing for the green to win
At hockey, flaunt their flag on towers gray,
And have the joy of being champions.
On week-end nights the stairs in Pembroke East
Were scenes of rapture deep and singing loud—
The rapture surely ours—can you ask?
And when we later found the stand to take,
We then did love them “more and more and more.”
I seem to hear our Betty rise at this,
And with Swift groan, cast an indignant look.
For one thing I will say for those proud queens,
They welcomed “rushing” with a stately grace,
Thought it misplaced—but then, we were so young,
They’d guide our steps in paths that they should go;
The influence they had was quite unique—
Might be compared to any Loreley—
For Freshmen sat upright, rejecting sleep,
Examinations facing by and by.
And then a foolish joke got spread about,
That furnished fun galore for trivial minds;
The “Birds,” they called any devoted pair
That seemed to have a run on heart-to-hearts;
But one thing I must say, right here and now:
The birds in colour were not all dark blue.
Perhaps we’ve wandered from the theme in hand
To praise our Seniors and speak gratefully
Of them for much forbearance on their part;
And though we teased them, even in our play,
We all admired—this I think was plain;
And lest we say too much, we ought to cease
By giving one long cheer for 1907.
Marcaret M. James.
24


Freshman Wear Athletics

Tennis

Class Championship won by
1907

College Championship Cup won
by Gertrupe Hitt, ’07
Captains

G. Hutcurys, ’°07
H. Scumnipt, ’08
M. Betxevitte, ’09
R. Romeyrny, 710

Class Team

E. Tenney, C. Smonps, E.
Swirt

J. Tuompson, Substitute

Class Team Doubles

E. Swirt, C. Stmonps
E. L. Tenney, J. Toompson

Class Champion

E. Swirt

Hockey
Championship won by 1907

Captains

E. Wriuras, ’07
E. Brown, ’09

L. SHarpress, ’08
E. Denison, 710

Team

J. THompson

M. Kirx«

M. AsHLEY

J. B. Kerr

E. STorer

C. V. Smuwonps

E. Denison, Captain
K. Rotan

S. C. ALLINSON ©

F. A. Jackson
Mary WortTHiIncton

Scores

1910-1909—2-6
1910-1909—1-5

"Varsity
C. WornrisHorrer, ’07
G. Hurcurins, 07
G. Hitt, ’07
L. SuHarp.xess, ’08
Heten Scumivt, ’08
E. Daw, ’07
A. Hawkins, ’07
J. Morris, ’08
T. Herzurn, °08
M. Puatstep, 708
E. Witu1ams, 07, Captain

’Varsity Games

November 2, Bryn Mawr vs.

Belmont—1-0

November 10, Bryn Mawr vs.
Merion—1-2

November 24, Bryn Mawr vs.
Germantown, 13-2

25

November 27, Bryn Mawr vs.
Moorestown—4-1

December 4, Bryn Mawr vs.
Belmont—2-2

Swimming Weet
Captains
C. WorerstnorrFer, ’07
C. Goopate, ’09
M. Young, ’08
C. Demine, 710
Meet won by 1907—25 points.
Second place tie with 1909—
17 points
Individual points, fourth place,
D. AsHton—6 points.
Relay Race won by 1910.

Wiater Polo
Captains
C. WornrisHorrer, ’07
G. GoopatE, ’09
M. Younes, ’08
C. Demine, 710

Team
J. Howe
F. Hearne
D. AsHTon
M. SHIPLEY
E. Dentson
I, Taper
1910 vs. 1909—8-2
1907 vs. 1910 —4-2

Championship won by 1907
Freshman Wear Athletics—continued

Indoor Track Weert

Class Championship Cup won
by 1908
Individual Cup won by
A. Pratt, ’09

Captains

C. WorrisHorrer, ’07
K. Ecos, ’09

T. Gairritn, ’08

K. Roran, 710

Events won by 1910

Hurdles—M. Kimx
Standing High Jump—C. Mc-
KENNEY

Tug of War—1910

Third place in meet, 1910 with
19 points

Basket-Ball
Championship won by 1908

Captains

G. Hurcuins, ’07

A. Pratt, ’09

M. Puatstep, °08

G. Kinespacuer, °10

Team

E. Romeyn
E. Swirt

F. Hearne
M. SHIPLey
E. Denison
M. Kir«

J. Brown

K. Roran

G. Kinessacuer, Captain

Score

1909 vs. 1910—8-6
1909 vs. 1910—1-4
1909 vs. 1910—11-5

*Varsiry Tram
G. Hurcuins, 07, Captain
M. PuatsTep, ’08
H. Capsury, ’08
L. SHarp.ess, ’08
E. Brown, ’09
E. Wiis, ’07
J. Morris, ’08
G. Hirt, ’07
E. Sweet, ’07
Substitutes from 1910
M. Kir« G. KincsBAcHER

Gpmnagium Contest
Won by 1909
Leaders

Marching Tactics....J. Brown
Barbells... 329%: D. Nearmne

Parallel Bars......F. Jackson
Events won by 1910
Rope Climbing
Points

1909—118 1910—92






“Lu Memoriam

David Irons

January 23, 1907

JProfesgor of Philosophy at Bryn Mawr College
1900-1907


















Sophomore Wear














Class Officers

President—KatTHarinE L. Rotan
Vice-President and Treasurer—JANET T. HowE1tt.

Secretary—Rutu Bascocx.

Mffices Held bp the Class

Self-Government—Advisory Board, Izertn TABER
Undergraduate Association—Assistant Treasurer, Exist DEEMs.
Athletic Association—V ice-President and Treasurer, Esa DENISON
Christian Union—Secretary, Hirpa W. SmirH
Glee Club—Assistant Business Manager, Rosatinp RomMEYN
Trophy Club—SvusanneE C, ALLINSON, MADELEINE Epison
League—Treasurer, Este DEEms
Students’ Building Committee—Autice WuitTEMoRE, Frances Lorp.
Consumers’ League—Treasurer, Emity SToRER
Lantern—Editor, KATHARINE LIDDELL
Assistant Business Manager—Izette TABER

Tipyn o Bob—Editor, RutH GEORGE

Scholarships

James E’, Rhoads—Marion Kirk Maria Hopper—JoserHine Brown
u ;
Calendar of Sophomore Wear

OOroues ©. sia die beats College Opened.

Ooroere Biss vere wes. Rush Night.

OCTOBER 4.05) fouh ihe ss Christian Union Reception.

MOVEMBER Bo aoe) > “Love's Labour Lost.” Sophomore Play.
NOVEMBER Gog peewee. Lantern Night.

NovemBer 2, 8, 23 ......... ’Varsity Hockey Games.

NovemBer 12, 14, 15 ...... Hockey Match Games with 1909.

NoveMBER 19, 25 .......... Hockey Match Games with 1908.

NOvVEMORe RO i ee Mrs. Cobden-Sanderson Lectured on “Why I Went to Prison.”
DECEMOER Bi) ios ve ess Mr. Roger Fry, of the Metropolitan Museum, Lectured.
MAMUARY DOUT Gch pees sees Swimming Meet.

VAmOaRY, BASE sisi. cose ss Mid-Years.

Peenvaer RO oi vi diac Week End Conference.

PRORU ART BF ily e ak eevee Mass Meeting about New Gym.

Penecany 86 665055 Coles és Law Club Debate, 1908-1909.

PAAROM Oe ei cone od Gcks Ob Track Meet.

Marcu 16, Sd Wak Wik Gio di ein wie Miss Jane Addams Lectured.

MARC RO en teak hieiew's Freshman Play, “Every Freshman.”

Manon Blk eevee Gymnasium Contest won by 1910.

Avert, BO rie eee ticwsa Founder’s Lecture.

May ae i May Day Celebration.

May 2% ...i0% ive eid’ hia tai es Glee Club Concert.

Bay (6, O20 Wet eeess Basket-Ball Match Games with 1911.

Mat 9 oii rh eens ak “The Importance of Being Earnest.” 'To 1908.
May VBC ah bis ws ihesis 3 Basket-Ball Match Games with 1908.

PORYS Be 4a Ni i ae Class Supper.

May 3G oie, Cua Junior-Senior Supper Play repeated, “Romeo and Juliet.”
May S000 fi06s ose svaeGs. Finals.

May OU pee veveleeers Baccalaureate Sermon. By Hugh Black.

BONE Rei eee Ueks Nenu ee Senior Bonfire.

CURR Bi icee Ghee dwes *Varsity Basket-Ball vs. Alumne.

UONE. Bo. ck isk een eue ns College Breakfast.

PUNE Bi es ee bdaw +s Garden Party.

QURE DD ache caeasnpaetee ss Commencement. Speaker, President Hadley, of Yale.

30






S/ophomore pPlap

OTH of us were young when we did it—meaning ourselves and Shakespeare—and
both of us were somewhat hampered by tradition. In the case of Sophomore Play,
tradition demands a mildly educational effort, not so hilarious that it fails to impress

the Freshmen with that sense of refined and cultured gloom which is considered respectable
after a year’s learning, nor yet so painful as to harrow their youthful f eelings, all emotional
display being rigidly excluded from our stage until Junior-Senior Supper.

The first Sophomore Play committee, therefore, after going through most of the extant
literature from the stone age backward (tradition also says that Sophomore Play must not
be too modern, lest the Freshman class take it as a slur), fixed upon “Love’s Labours Lost”
as fitting all known requirements. It was a perfectly charming bit, and, being included in
the second year English course, unavoidable anyway.

This committee having disbanded with a sigh of relief, another one held a grand review
of that portion of the class which wanted to play “Costard,” followed by that which aspired
to “Jaquenetta.” These two divisions were flanked on the left by a platoon of “Birons,”
and on the right by enough “Moths” to wreck the Fall trade in woolen goods. The parade
took five hours to pass the grand stand, after which the second committee dispersed for the
summer to various sanitaria (?) (Sp.) and a third—that of the costumes—got in some deadly
work, the most startling of their transactions being the purchase of hair by the inch for the
hirsute adornment of the gentlemen in the production.

In the Fall came the rehearsals. Rows of patient class-mates sat nightly on the hard
floor at the back of the gym, trying to see whether voices from the stage could interfere with
their learning their Latin lessons. Nothing disturbed their peace, however, save the stage
manager's frantic exhortation: “For Heaven’s sake—eicexz!!” and to that they soon became
inured from the frequency of its repetition. 1910 is an earnest class. It takes its laughter
seriously, and, temperamentally, it is fitted for extremes. From the sublime to the ridiculous
and back again it can jump with amazing agility, but its ranks are almost totally lacking in
what somebody in first year English calls “graceful triflers”; consequently, when it came to
giggling over those intensely polite court jokes, we were all from Missouri. For instance, as
you probably remember, the King of Navarre would not allow the Princess of France to
enter his castle. This was manifestly impossible—since his castle was painted on the back
drop—but, nevertheless, rude. The Princess, therefore, camps at his gates under a pavilion
just large enough to contain a pitcher of lemonade for the refreshment of the royal family.

31
Moreover, any building commission would have pronounced it unsafe. Into this structure
the Princess, three ladies-in-waiting, and the gentleman from Cook’s, who conducted them,
were supposed to retire in a graceful flutter of excitement at the approach of the King and
his companions. ‘The cue was, “Whip to our tents as roes run o’er the land,” and at this
juncture they were supposed to giggle—why, nobody knows. I am convinced that the roes
never did it. There was imminent danger of falling off the back of the stage, and the flut-
tering in had to be done in a prescribed order so that the fluttering out again could be
accomplished correctly. This was a matter which required not mirth, but conscientious
care—and, as I say, we are an earnest class.

There were several other appealing situations—one, in particular, where the ladies defy
recognition by exchanging jewelry—which, since it fooled the gentlemen completely, showed
that they had an eye for the worldly possessions of their beloved fair ones rather than their
_ personal charms. The “big scene” of the play is where each gentleman gets behind a dif-
ferent tree and talks to himself. This is exceedingly interesting. 'The scene in which we
“come to our own,” however, was that last harrowing episode where the black-draped mes-
senger brings a special delivery announcement of the death of the King of France. This was
rendered with intense emotion, showing what we might have done if we had only decided on
“Hamlet.” The court instantly dropped its carefully-accumulated expression of enjoyment,
and looked like the day before Mid-year’s. The Princess shrieked, “Dead!” with a rising inflec-
tion—this speech having been abridged from “Dead for my life,” as it was considered bad
taste for her to mention her own exuberant health in the same breath with poor papa’s
demise—and sank back, to be tenderly cared for until she recovered sufficiently to murmur:
“On with the dance,” or words to that effect, the King having materially assisted by patting
her on the head during the intermission. For this kind office he is told, in a speech about a
mile long, that he must wait a year for her—intelligence which so affected Gym Kate on
the night of dress rehearsal that she turned off all the lights to hide her anguish. When
they went on again, about fifteen minutes later, the Princess was still on the same speech.
After her example, the ladies all follow suit with their respective swains—though, fortunately,
they get through the ordeal with neatness and despatch—whereupon the suitors depart, mur-
muring: “ "Tis better to have love’s labours lost than never to have lost at all,” proving that
they were good sports. Apropos of the year’s wait, we might mention that the Spring and
Winter passed very pleasantly in song, but as to the Summer and Autumn, Gym Kate left
us in the dark.

MADELEINE Epison.
39


GtOt o

S\/opbomore Lantern Might

NE of the joys of Sophomore year was that we could at last sing “Pallas Athene”
QC without being rudely hushed by shocked Upperclassmen. And Lantern Night of
our Sophomore year was one of the few occasions in our college career when we
were not forced to grind out from our own imagination a rhyme and sentiment suited to the
moment, but could blissfully enjoy the products of other people’s genius. But the allevia-
tion of this one misery was quite outbalanced by the tortures of Pallas practice in the raw,
cold, October mornings. Seniors and Juniors had impressed it upon us, in the kindly way
Seniors and Juniors have, that no class had ever sung so badly as we, and that the college
greatly feared for the success of Lantern Night. So we went to work with the vigour
aroused by terror to learn the Greek hymn well, and so preserve the reputation of the college.
But vigour alone is not sufficient, or even desirable, unfortunately, in the production of deli-
cate harmony. In spite of the earnest pleadings of our musical members to “think up,”
“open our mouths wide,” “pronounce each word distinctly and with feeling,’ we would get
sadly bedraggled and time-worn, so to speak, towards the end of the third verse. How
well I remember the sinking sensation when, after reaching the end of the first verse, Hilde-
garde would strike her tuning-fork, and then mournfully exclaim, “A note and a half flat
on the first verse—where will you be in the end!”

The drear rehearsal for Lantern Night, so to speak, took place on Friday morning, and
was the occasion of our “biggest hit.” Fancy costumes consisted of raincoats and umbrellas,
and the play was enacted on the upper campus, between Pembroke Arch and Denbigh. We
were not permitted, however, to finish the comedy, or tragedy, if you will, for our faithful
Juniors appeared to draw the curtain before a shocked audience, ever anxious to preserve
college traditions.

33
That evening, inspired by Kate Rotan’s exhortations not to flat (Kate was always most
effective when urging us to sing well), we started from Pembroke Arch in lusty harmony.
How we managed to reach Denbigh green and present our lanterns to the waiting Fresh-
men, without wandering away irrevocably wherever individual, tuneful desire should lead
us, is a complete mystery and a most fortunate miracle. (I remember, on turning the
curve about Taylor, hearing the front of the marching line at one part of the verse and the
back of the line cheerfully singing something entirely different, while I myself and the
rest of my associates in the middle were torn between conflicting emotions, wondering where
we should ally ourselves. But I have never told this incident.) Finally we did reach the
Freshmen and did present our lanterns, with the usual giggling attempts at good wishes.
And afterwards the college crowded about us and declared, as the college always does, that
Lantern Night was never so beautiful, and “Pallas Athene” never so well sung.

Marion S. Kirk.



The Importance of Weing Earnest

N the Spring of 1908, wrested from 1908, and given to 1908, our famous comedy
made its first and last sparkling success. With our usual flair for seizing the right
thing and carrying off the laurels, we made up our minds as one woman (unusually

quickly, since they are women’s minds, and so many mighty ones at that) that we would give
this play, and so we did. As. Mr. Chesterton would have said: “ ‘The Importance of Being
Earnest’ was not half as great as the earnestness of being important,” and it was this very
feeling of importance, I think, that made each actor rise to the clarion call of the stage man-
ager, and render her part with an unequaled mixture of realism and subtlety.

34
The ten rehearsals of “The Importance,” took place in the coal cellar under the library.
Shades of Oscar Wilde! What an incubator for such a performance! What would that
effete, dandified author, wearing a gardenia probably (which we ourselves sported later),
have done if he could have seen us rehearsing his perfectly high-life play in a coal cellar?.
People would bring a property or two, such as a cigarette, a cucumber sandwich or a sun-
shade (no, I take back the first mentioned; they had no cigarettes to bring, oh Jane of
Self-government), and by such simple means become transformed. There Lady Bracknell
swept majestically into the apartment, in spite of the four by six feet of room, though she
occasionally cannoned into some irreproachable manservant, who stood supposedly out of
earshot awaiting orders. Never were such “dwellers” as those of the fair Gwendolen; they
would have melted the heart of a giraffe in a tree—and I certainly was in a position
to know. Never at a dress rehearsal did two fashionable fops quarrel and choke over such
frightful and untoasted English muffins; and never did any Miss Prism bridle so bewitch-
ingly, as some of the lines, which delicacy forbids my mentioning, never ceased to shock and
alarm her.

What might by professionals have been considered cramped conditions were part of
the game for us. If we dressed in trailing gowns or unwonted frockcoats and strangely-
fitting trousers in the halls, and hurried to be rouged and powdered in the swimming-pool,
we liked it so much the better. And, speaking on behalf of our artists, I am sure that I
can safely say that they would have turned white with resentment if any foreign hands had
papered with charming patterns the Manor-house morning room, or Algernon’s Moncrieff’s
Half Moon Street flat. The very trellises and garden roses stood monuments to their
cleverness. Amusing as some of the makeshift conveniences were, everyone enjoyed convert-
ing them into just the right thing, as Cinderella’s fairy Godmother turned the pumpkin into
the gilded coach. Which brings one to the reflection that whoever among that merry
Earnest company becomes a future stage star, will never have a better time than she did
acting that delightfully foolish play.

But I have said enough to show that we felt pleased with the performance. “It is a
terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothing
but the truth”; hence I had better stop, for I am in danger of giving full swing to my
imagination, and praising our performance to the skies.

Marcaret M. JAmes.
Romeo and Yuliet

T was not our play ;—we had neither the glory of participants nor the enviable distinction
| of guests of honour; we were mere outsiders, gallery gods, rabble, Sophomores, squeezed
ten deep into the narrow balcony of the old gym, and shedding tears and cracker
crumbs on the heads of the more dignified spectators below. But as this book aims to record
not merely the episodes, but also the emotional life of our class, a few words in tribute to
1909’s Romeo and Juliet and to that memorable night of Sophomore spring when we saw it
played, cannot be thought amiss. For it was a great experience (hence the tears!), an
experience for which one was willing even to forego ice cream night at the halls (hence the
cracker crumbs!)

In the old days one could not indulge in dinner and a play in the course of the same
evening. ‘To be sure, there was the tea house, but unless one possessed unusual executive
ability, something was sure to go wrong whenever one attempted to dine before the per-
formance. Ruth George and I tried it once Freshman year. We had bought gallery
seats to economize (that was before the gallery had become a matter of course), but what
with our dinner at the tea house (which we didn’t have time to eat), and what with our
tickets for the play (the first two acts of which we missed because we were at the tea house,
and the last act of which we couldn’t see because there were so many people in front of us),
our evening’s entertainment cost us something like two dollars apiece. Moral: Don’t ever try
to save either time or money. It can’t be done at college.

But I must return to Romeo and Juliet. For one thing, it was such a glorious sur-
prise to us. Miss Donnelly’s Second Year English notes hadn’t really given one an idea of
what it was like, and even the catalogue of plays, familiar to every Sophomore play com-
mittee, in which, wedged in between The Ranchman and The Rough Diamond, we had read
the following graphic description: “Romeo and Juliet: A tragedy in five acts, by William
Shakespeare. For eighteen males and four females, with other minor characters. Time,
three hours. Scenes in Verona, Italy. Costumes of the fifteenth century. Price, 15 cents,”
left much to be desired.

How could we foresee that we would meet in 1909’s play the spirit of eternal youth and
of perfect, unchanging beauty. Mercutio, Benvolio, Paris, Tybalt and the two incompar-
able lovers are all beautiful and all young, and we found in them not merely beauty, but
the romance of beauty; not merely youth, but the energy, the passion, the promise of youth.
For two hours we lived with them beneath the blue skies and molten silver moonlight of a
transplanted Italy, and in those two hours we loved much and hated much and died several
times, and went home at last, emotionally exhausted, with no heart left for basket-ball.

KATHARINE LIDDELL
Tiater Wolo

\ /f AN, it has been said, was originally a water animal. But this, we are convinced, is
the most impossible of theories. Why, if our greatest grandfathers were jellyfish,
do we, as children, feel an instinctive dread of the water, and scream lustily when

forced, by kind but determined parents, to master the gentle art of swimming? And why,
having become acquainted with this mode of locomotion, do we show so little joy and pride
in our accomplishment? One would expect us to hasten joyfully to the swimming-pool at
every opportunity, to display our agility before an admiring throng. But far from it!
When the day for water polo practice comes, we carefully avoid the watchful: eye of the
captain and surreptiously change our path when we see her approaching in the distance.
And if, by some unhappy chance, we are followed up and can no longer rely on “I forgot,”
or “Nobody reminded me” for an excuse, we search in vain for some remnant of a cold
or headache and plead stiff muscles from excessive gymnasium work.

But be it said in our favour that we do, for the most part, overcome this reluctance
enough to creep like snails unwilling to the pool—which is, I think, quite to our credits.
And it is most especially to the credit of the captain, for not only does she overcome her
own reluctance, but also it is she, and she alone, who inspires her back-sliding team, out of
love for her, to follow her example. And once the agony of decision is over, and we have
taken the dreaded shower-bath and plunge, then we actually enjoy the excitement of the
game, and with the happy consciousness of duty done, come home to a peaceful sleep.
Indeed, when there is no immediate danger of our being inveigled into the pool, we look
upon water polo, our hearts swelling with pride, as the game of all games for us. For in
it we won our first championship.

It is, I think, the championship we have enjoyed most. There was much more honour
in hockey, but this was the honour that came first and came in the most delightful of all years
for championships, Sophomore year. Freshman year one has hardly realised, in the heed-
lessness of youth, what a great and glorious thing it is—a championship. And in Junior,
and still more in Senior year, it becomes a necessity and a point of pride to excel in some-
thing. But Sophomore year we appreciate to the full the joy of winning, without being
tormented with the possibility of disgrace from defeat; and so, though in practice we may
shun water polo, it will always be for us an increasingly delightful memory, belonging as it
does to that class of things of which it can be said that “absence makes the heart grow
fonder.” JANET HowEL.

87
College Wreakfast

N the first place, I must explain that Ros is at my elbow, so that if my remarks seem
biased at all and not in accordance with general and prevalent conceptions of College
Breakfast, know that they may be coloured by her proximity—in other words, my

life is in danger. With this apology, let me state that our college breakfast was undeniably
the best college breakfast that has ever been given, and that Rosalind Romeyn (she reminded
me of this) made an excellent toastmistress—so witty and pretty. Here truth compels me
to admit, however, that it came as a complete surprise to all but 1910 (of course, they elected
her) that she had been chosen, and evidently “it was the blow that almost killed father” when
the other classes learned who was toastmistress. Whether they didn’t recognize her worth,
or thought Kate Rotan better fitted, I am not in a position to say, but Dorothy Merle-Smith
whispered loudly to her neighbour, as Ros swept in with the speaker’s bouquet: “Why has
Ros that huge bunch of pink roses.” ‘The slight drawback of having to wait over an hour
in the broiling sun for belated table-cloths merely marred, but did not detract from the
superiority of this occasion. Just as Ros had risen for the seventh time, a loud hush from
the ushers heralded the approach of six old ladies, who hobbled in and took their places,
representatives of the class of “naughty-naught.” Meanwhile each one of our class reveled
secretly in the thought that at least the committee had permitted her to sit by her ninth
choice, and was correspondingly grateful.

After long and matronly advice from the oldest class, Ros enlivened the board with all
“the old favourite jokes” of her repertoire, likewise common to every other toastmistress,
and which even the six members of the class of “Naughty-Naught” had knocked slats out
of their cradles laughing at, but being genial and agreeable old things, they laughed again.

“Tink” Meigs, aided by President Thomas’ careful statistics, gave able suggestions on
how to avoid the handicap of being a college girl and delude some innocent man into
marrying you. She emphasized the necessity of this as a recognized collegiate duty, which
each girl owes her college and her class, else how can the class maintain the 50 and 75 per cent
average, which President Thomas declares time must inevitably bring; and, of course, we
valued these hints, for we should hate to have 1910 fall short of the standard.

Rose Marsh, after her notorious and public embracing of the Butchers’ Convention
Ideals, received the hearty applause and appreciation accorded to an authority on the subject
when she held forth on “College Blunders.”








Carrying out the idea of the survival of the fittest, 1910 spoke last—and best. Out of
consideration to our aged college mates and the poor unfortunates who were hanging over
the balcony rail, we managed with difficulty to curtail Kate Rotan’s exposition on the merits
of the new gym. By far the most appreciated speech was from Madeleine Edison, “College
Breakfasts I have Known,” which is synonymous, as we all know, with “How will you have
your eggs?” This toast, coming near the end, united us with a common bond and gave
us an appropriate parting feeling of good fellowship.

HELENE PELLETIER.

S\/ophomore Supper

UR second class supper did not possess the impressive features that characterized our
first formal gathering at the end of Freshman year. Even the prospect of drinking
fourteen odd toasts in lemonade and standing with one foot on the table to celebrate

the last one, did not produce the intense excitement which we suppressed with difficulty in
other days. As Sophomores, our minds were filled with weightier matters, such as the daisy
chain and the management of the Senior class on Commencement Day, so that we regarded
a peaceful evening meal with our class-mates more as a relaxation than an affair of import-
ance. The energy thus saved we spent in enjoying ourselves. The food was delicious, the
toasts delightful, and the company entirely charming (the class will please distribute the
flowers impartially). The decorations, by the way, were exceeded in beauty only by the
decorators, and the dinner-cards (class bug rampant upon a field of azure) were visions,
having ruined several pair of eyes in their making. The Toast-Mistress, moreover, left nothing
to be desired in the wit and graciousness of her speeches. ‘The company was entertained by
various gifted members of the class in histrionic efforts (these were especially enjoyed by the
waiters), and was moved to cheers by the announcement of a bona fide engagement in our
midst—not one of “‘Kirkie’s” gold bricks. Altogether, Sophomore Supper was a brilliant
social success, and it is needless to say that all who participated agreed that an “enjoyable
time was had.”

MADELEINE EDISON.
39


1 Se Tot y 1

picking the Daisies

T was one of those cold, damp nights in June (nights in June never being cold and
I damp) that I laid me down to sleep, when suddenly I was rudely and roughly aroused
by, “Three o’clock; time to get up!” I turned over, thinking it a nightmare, but a
large, brawny arm seized me and thrust me on my feet in the middle of the room. Then I
realized that Jane was calling me to pick daisies! I slipped on a jumper and skirt and
staggered into the bathroom. There I found the rest of my class, more asleep than awake.
Some were washing their faces with their toothbrushes, others were snoring peacefully in
their cold tubs! We finally got together in the tea-pantry, where we were further awakened
by a cup of black, luke-warm liquid, well seasoned with chunks of ground coffee, and a piece
of burnt bread. After this hearty, refreshing breakfast, we started out into the cold, damp,
inky night.

I found a few sleepy friends under the arch, and we started down the Gulf Road, think-
ing of all the things that might happen to a poor girl on a country road at 4 A. M. We
all sang lustily (and out of tune), “Oh, I Wish I Had Someone to Love Me,” in order to
keep up our spirits.

All of a sudden I felt Bill’s tight grip on my arm! We stopped! Something was
approaching—a man? What should we do to defend ourselves? We were not the least
bit scared, oh, no, not we college girls—but, be that as it may, the heart-beats sounded
loudly! Just as we were about to let forth shrill, effeminate shrieks for help, out of the
blackness loomed forth the forms of two human beings, whom we expected were about to
pay for our through tickets to Hades! Breathless, we waited the death-defying, dauntless,
daring, devilish desperadoes! As they came upon us, we slowly recognized, in the early
morn, our dear little Apie and Ruthie, who had turned back to join us! Never disclosing
to them our bravery (?), we all joined forces and continued on our strenuous quest after
daisies.

We soon came to a large field filled with very tall grass and many daisies. Of course,
there had been that night probably one of the heaviest falls of dew America has ever

40


known, so the minute we stepped into the field—not a chance! We were all soon at work,
however, some cutting the daisies, others following and gathering them in their skirts.
When our skirts were filled to overflowing, we would stumble half a mile across the field to
the road, and there, utterly exhausted, dump our dripping load of nature’s beauty on Ruth
George’s head; for she was not strong enough to carry the heavy loads back and forth, but
it was her fate each time to extricate herself from the dew, dirt, insects, grass, weeds—and
daisies, and to lift them into a wagon nearby. I might here digress to state that Ruth has
lived, but she has never been the same!

After we had made the trip to the road and back about one thousand times, our appear-
ances were indescribable. Had we grown to resemble a daisy? Oh, no! Our hair was
dishevelled and filled with stray parts of the field, our faces were splattered with mud, our
white jumpers were stained and dirty, our skirts were soaked up to our waists, and, as to our
shoes and stockings—you could not tell where the field left off and they began! At every
step the water squirted forth from the tops of our boots and kept our legs continually moist.
“Not since the baby died” had I been so wet through and through!

Passing along my way, I heard these clever remarks from members of the one and
only class of 1910: “Which do you prefer, centipedes or daisies?” “Isn’t nature beautiful?”

“You know, as a Juliette, I’m an onion.” “Isn’t the approach of dawn inspiring?’ But
louder and longer than all came the piercing shriek from each one, “For Heaven’s sake, Ros,
shut up!”

After stripping the field of all its natural beauty—and moisture, we dragged our heavy
feet homeward. ‘The roads, now well dried by the sun, rose and joined us, and we resembled
greatly a moving column of dust. We reached our rooms at seven-thirty A. M., and spent
the rest of the day removing the daisy field from our person.

Need I say that the daisies we picked were better than ever, that we picked more than

ever before—in short, that we are 1910!
RosaLiInD RoMEYN.

41
S/ophomore Wear Athletics

Tennis

Class Championship won by
1908

College Championship won by
A. WHITNEY

Captains

H. Scumipt, °08

C. V. Smonps, °10
M. Bewrevitre, ’09
M. Kitner, 711

Class Team

C. V. Smonps, E. Tenney,
E. Swirt

Class Team Doubles

E. Romeyrn and C. V. Stmonps
E. Swirt and E. L. Tenney

Class Champion, E. Swirt

Hockep
Championship won by 1908

Captains
L. SHarpress, 08
M. Kirk, 710
M. Neartine, 09
H. Emerson, 711

Class Team

H. HarpEnBERGH
M. AsHLey

T. Hearne

J. THOMPSON

G. KrnesBacHER
E. Denison

K. Roran

5S. C. ALLINson
E. Waker

M. Worruincton

M. Kirk, Captain

Scores

1910-1911—6-2
1910-1911—3-3
1910-1911—7-1
1908-1910—3-3
1908-1910—4-2
1908-1910—4-3

’Varsity

T. Herzvrn, ’08
M. Kirk, 710
J. Morris, 08
M. Wasusvrn, ’08
H. Caprury, ’08
M. Nearrne, ’07
M. Corretanp, ’08
M. Youns, ’08

42

H. Scumipt, 708
M. Puatstep, ’08

L. SuHarpress, ’08, Captain

Substitutes from 1910

J. Tuompson, 710; K. Rorayn,
10; G. KryespacHer, 10;
M. Worruineton, 710

’Varsity Games

Bryn Mawr vs. Moorestown—
9-1
Bryn Mawr vs. Belmont—9-4
Bryn Mawr vs. Merion—2-2
Bryn Mawr vs. Philadelphia—
2-1
Bryn Mawr vs. Lansdowne—
Not played
Bryn Mawr vs. Germantown—
Not played

Swimming Weet
Championship won by 1909

Captains
N. Sreps, ’08
I. Taner, 710
G. Brwpte, ’09
J. ALLEN, 711

\


S/opbomore Wear Athletics—cContinued

Events won by 1910
140-foot swim on back —C.
Ware, 48 seconds
70-foot swim on back—C.
Ware, 23 3-5 seconds

Class Relay, 1910
Class Points—27, second place
Individual Points—C. Warg,’10
third place

Water Polo
Tournament won by 1910
Captains

N. SEeEps, ’08
I. Taper, °10
G. Brppte, ’09
J. ALLEN, 711

Class Team
E. Denison
C. Demine
D. AsHTon
F. Hearne
J. Howey
E. Walker
I. Taser, Captain

Scores

1910 ws. 1911—7-2
1910 vs. 1909—5-3

Indoor Crack MWeet
Class Championship Cup
won by 1909

Individual Cup ’
won by A. Pratt, 708

Captains
J. Grirriru, ’08
J. Howe, 710
K. Ecos, ’09
M. Horrmay, 711

Events won by 1910
15-yard dash—G. KincspacHER
Tug of War—1910

Class Points

1910-17
Third place, tied with 1911

Gymnasium Contest

Won by 1910
Leaders
Marching Tactics—M. Hepcers
Wand and Dumb-bells—
D. NEARING
Poles and Balancing—
J. Brown
Indian Clubs—F. Stewart
Heavy Apparatus—J. Howe.
Horse—M. Kirx
Parallel Bars—A. Boces

Events won by 1910
Marching Tactics
Long Pole
Wands and Dumb-bells
Tied in the Horse
1910-48 points
1911-45 points

Basket: Ball

Championship won by 1908
43

Captains
M. Puatstrep, ’08
G. Kinespacuer, °10
A. Pratt, ’09
J. ALLEN, 711

Class Team
J. HowELu
E. Romeyn
F. Hearne
E. Denison
M. Kir«
J. THompson
K. Rotran
C. Stmonps
G. Kinesnacuer, Captain
Scores
1910 vs. 1911—T-6
1910 vs. 1911—9-10
1910 vs. 1911—11-5
1908 vs. 1910—6-3
1908 vs. 1910—13-2
*Varsiry TEAM
M. Puatstep, ’08, Captain
J. Morris, ’08
M. Betxievit1e, ’09
C. Wesson, ’09
M. Youngs, ’08
H. Capzvury, ’08
G. Kinespacuer, "10
L. SuHarpress, ’08
M. Wasuzvry, ’08
Substitutes from 1910
M. Krrex, J. Hower,
E. Denison, K. Rotan

Score
Bryn Mawr vs. Alumnae—6-5






Punior Wear
















Puntor Wear Class Officers

President—KaTHARINE L. Rotan
Vice-President and Treasurer—E.izasetH TAPPAN
Secretary—ALicE WHITTEMORE

Dttices eld bp the Class

Christian Union—Treasurer, Hupa W. SmitH
Bryn Mawr League—Secretary, K.usm DEEMs
Self-Government Association—Evecutive Board, Hu.pa W. Smiru, Ex.sm DEEMs
Advisory Board, CHARLOTTE V. Simonps, MiLLicENtT Ponp
Secretary, Frances M. Stewart
Treasurer, MARGARET SHEARER
Undergraduate Association—V ice-President and Treasurer, Est~ DEEMS
Secretary, MABEL ASHLEY (resigned), FRANcES HEARNE
Athletic Association—Secretary, JANET 'T. HowE1.
Outdoor Manager, Ex1sa DENISON
Lantern—E ditor-in-Chief, Rut Grorce; Editors, KATHARINE LippELL, Grace BRANHAM
Business Manager, Izevte TABER
Tipyn o Bob—Managing Editors, RurH Grorce, GRack BRANHAM.
Philosophy Club—Treasurer, Mary WorTHINGTON
Glee Club—Treasurer, E1izaBETH TENNEY
Trophy Club—Svusanne C. AuLInson, EstHER WALKER
English Club—RutH Groree, KATHARINE LIpDELL, GRACE BRANHAM
Law Club—President, Dorotruy NEARING
Equal Suffrage League—President, Mary WortTHiIncTon
Vice-President and Treasurer, JEANNE B. Kir
Mandolin Club—DorotHy NEARING
Consumers’ League—President, Rutn Casor

Scholarships

James E. Rhoads—KatTHarinE LIppEL.
45
Calendar of Junior Dear

SEPTEMBER 29 .......00000: Freshman Class Meeting.

SEPTEMBER B30 oo iene sees College Opened.

Ocromms | Ui sutiycue veo, Rush Night.

Ocronen Biss Siew leneasse « Christian Union Reception.

Ocromen 16 ib scicie Gadel o's) Laying Cornerstone of the New Gymnasium.
Novem aa Kia Wi awa > Political Mass Meeting.

NoveMBER 5-9-11......... . «Hockey Match Games with 1911.

Novenipe Tie ea cess « Mrs. Snowden on Woman Suffrage.
November 12-80 .......... Hockey Finals with 1909 won by 1910.
NOvVeMpes 16 oi. ot se ts Banner Presentation, “Miss Hobbes.”
Novemprn 200 ye. ence a Mr. Whiting’s First Musical Recital.
Decemmer 4 (306.000 64 55 6- Mrs. Berenson on Italian Art.

DAMUTARY BOS a6 40 wie n> Mid-Years.

PRORUAOY 18 is dei ki iiue nse +o Rev. Anna Shaw on “Women and the Ballot.”
PRBRU ART TT oe ies a Weak a Mr. James Wood gave Founder’s Lecture.
Peeeyanr BR ide eesti ee's Opening of New Gymnasium.

PAAROME Es 6 Vid ath lela wa bin a > Alumne gave “In a Balcony.”

MAMA IO Oe ce ea i Track Meet.

APR Basi pakeieds s+ Katherine Goodson Played for Endowment Fund.
Aprit 16, 23 ..... WANeAie Wa be Swimming Meet.

APm AT i yee tino bee ss “When Knighthood Was in Favour.”
PARED eee ss pela. 8} Glee Club Concert.

MEAT Dee Wa es ane Koike ei’ May Day Celebration.

MAT SB ois esd ia ss Basket-Ball Match Games with 1912.

Mae Flies h ess Junior-Senior Supper.

MAS Bo eatin 6 shee e+ > Junior-Senior Supper Play repeated, ““Medea.”
Mat 10, TA aki ieee Basket-Ball Finals with 1909.

MAW ET eee isn aewes *Varsity Tennis with Merion.

Bay 16.90 osha sass Finals

May 20 iii ue ieee s oi Picnic to 1908.

BAAS BO oes shee we uals wh oe First Outdoor Track Meet.

MA Bh ican nodene pues Baccalaureate Sermon. By Dean Hodges.
MR Ree chee aden sh *Varsity Basket-Ball vs. Alumne.

TOME Daan owe beeen.» Commencement. Speaker, President Jordan.

46




Wanner plap—1910 to 1912

UR Banner Play—at the very words, we, 1910, begin to puff with pride, our usual
reflex where any achievement of ours as a class is mentioned. A blank, a lapse of
memory follows. What was our Banner Play anyhow?—Oh, yes, Miss Hobbes.

Then there comes a memory of the chapel in such chaos as never was seen before, and pray
Heaven, may never be seen again; of a seasick cabin scene, with portholes and companion-
way entangled with the stove pipe, and Millicent vainly searching for kindling wood; of a
dilapidated and hastily re-papered drawing-room, with freshly-laundered white curtains; of
a heavy settee, laden with raw chops and fog-horns; of frying-pans and sour milk; of Elsa,
hideous and terrifying in a huge black beard; of Nelson peering over his glasses in bewil-
dered sympathy; of hurrying secretaries bearing missives and checks from the president.
Out of this chaos arises Miss Hobbes, cool and fresh in her yachting costume, or delightfully .
pert in her dainty cap and apron. :

If a bad dress rehearsal is a proof that the play will turn out well, Miss Hobbes must
have been the greatest success we ever achieved. I can only draw a curtain over the twenty-
four hours of agony preceding the performance, and right here I would write a Pindaric
ode to Mr. Skelley if my talents lay in that line. For when the scenery—made for the old
gym—was too small to reach across the stage, when the curtains wouldn’t run and the foot-
lights hadn’t come, again and again, with untiring devotion and patience, he saved the day.
But, as an ode is beyond my powers, I can only verse our sentiments as they were expressed
many times in those two days, or would have been, if that touching melody had been written

then:

“Has anybody here seen Skelley?
The tacks are gone and the hammer’s lost,
And we can’t get it up at any cost.

Has anybody here seen Skelley,
Skelley of the scenery room?”

Y
When the last applause had died away and the curtain had fallen on Miss Hobbes for
the last time, the odd classes tactfully withdrew, leaving the even classes in possession of
the chapel. Again the curtain rose, and there burst upon 1912's wondering gaze the first
vision of their vanner, new and blue and spotless. With a strange little thrill, as we remem-
bered that 1908 was in the back of the room, watching and listening, we sang White Wings.
an
For the first time we realised what it meant to be Juniors, and that only now had we com-
pleted our link in the chain, which 1908 began when they gave us our banner and sang:
“Two years ago we as Freshmen
Received from our Juniors our banner of blue;

Now we as Juniors are giving
The flag of the colour that they loved to you.”

SusANNE Cary ALLINSON.

The presidential Election

HO will ever forget the night of November the first, when the college cast a straw
vote, and decided whom it wanted as President of the United States? Shall we
ever see again a scene of such wild and enthusiastic disorder, or experience

again quite the same tremendous emotions?

The whole procession formed under the arch at half-past seven, and took about half
an hour to arrange itself. Such a shouting and laughing, and flickering of torches, and
waving of banners, and blowing of horns, as I never hope to see or hear again. ‘Thanks to
the dignified and stately demeanor of the suffragist faction, we were enabled to observe the
scene calmly and critically. At about eight o’clock the procession started. It wound down
behind Radnor, and came back on itself to Taylor. At the head marched the Bryn Mawr
Band—what should we do without them—blowing and beating for all they were worth;
then the arm of the law, represented by a squad of policemen, headed by that magnificent
and terrifying figure, Boggsie, all wearing round tin boxes, upside down, with straps under
their chins, blue coats with gold paper pasted on for buttons, and blue hockey skirts—a most
dignified and impressive cortege. Next came the Republicans, all with white bands over
their shoulders, with “G. O. P.” in black on them, headed by the elephant, the emblem of
their party. ‘Then came the Democrats, with many transparencies; and behind them a small
Anti-Suffrage party, wearing caps and aprons as signs of domesticity; while behind them
and just in front of the Suffragists, the Anarchists. Their faces were all blackened, and
they wore white tunics with black handmarks printed all over them. They blew violently
on trumpets, and uttered a continuous yell:

Skull and bones!
Skull and bones!
Down with the government!

Hear our groans!
Boo —— —— !!




Behind them walked the suffrage party in their best evening dresses, showing great dig- —
nity, only venturing now and then to raise their voices with the rest of the mob, in that
telling song, to the most appropriate tune of “Everybody Works But Father”:

“Everybody votes but women,
Yet they have lots of sense;
Just give us the ballot,

The gain will be immense.
When we get the franchise,
Good citizens we will be;

If you don’t believe it,
Just try and see—
Oh, Vores For WomEN!”

We had need to summon all our dignity, for we were wedged in a most suggestive man-
ner between the Anarchists in front and the Socialists behind. These last all carried red
flags, and wore red. The flags had been provided by a certain young Socialist, whose name
is not unknown to most of us, who had taken the procession very seriously, and had sent the
organizers of the Socialist party many red flags and much advice in burning letters which
he signed “yours for the cause,” or “yours in brotherhood.”

Behind the Socialists marched the Prohibitionists, headed by Pat Murphy as Mrs. Carrie
Nation. The whole party wore mackintoshes and carried umbrellas with “keep dry” painted
on them. Among the Prohibitionists were found, strangely enough, the most ardent spirits
in the college—Georgina, Mary Rand, Marjorie Young and others of less note. In front
of this party went a large water-wagon, sprinkling the road; this had been borrowed from
the Bryn Mawr Township, and was driven by Johnnie, up to whose side there presently
clambered the tall, dark form of a certain philosopher, known to the college, who wished, I
suppose, to show on this public occasion that he at least had “joined the water-wagon.”
Behind this pranced the camel, “the original water wagon,” from whose haunches pro-
truded the thin, wiry legs of Platty. e

Next to this energetic party came the Independents, in yellow and white, carrying
empty dinner pails, which they rattled as they shouted for “Yellow journalism—Hisgen-
Hearst.” This ended the singing, shouting, laughing procession. Nearly everyone carried
torches or transparencies, which cast a flickering light and hot candle grease on the crowded

49
heads and upturned faces. The whole air was loud with our noise, and the echoes of our
songs came back to us from the sleeping hills. Only overhead the quiet stars looked down.

After making the tour of the campus, we marched two by two into Taylor, and crowded
into the chapel. All the doors except one had been locked, and everyone’s face was examined
as he or she went in, for fear of reporters. In the chapel, which we had best call the assem-
bly hall for the moment, there ensued a scene of the most tremendous disorder and mag-
nificent enthusiasm. The Suffragists got good places on the left, by the platform, where
we faced the room and took in the wild sight in front of us. In the front, where the Seniors
usually sit, were the Republicans, led by Pleasaunce Baker and Scrap Ecob, each brandishing
amegaphone. ‘They were the biggest party in the room, and sang their song to the stamping
of feet and wagging of heads:

It’s now been twelve good years or more

Since the Grand Old Party has been on the floor.
They’re onto the job; they’re on the spot;

Do we want to get rid of them? Well, I guess not!
Hurrah, boys! We'll vote for Taft!

Hurrah, boys! We'll vote for Taft!

Hurrah, boys! We'll vote for Taft!

For T-A-F-T, Taft!

The Democrats came in a good second, and the Anarchists groaned and trumpeted, and
threw bombs and shot off cracker pistols; while behind them the Prohibitionists kept up their
yell of “Keep dry! Keep dry!” and cheered Mrs. Carrie Nation as she jumped up on a
chair and began to make a speech. She was forcibly removed by the policemen. Opposite
us, on the piano, sat the Independents, adding their share to the noise.

Rose Marsh presided, and for reasons at which We can guess, we saw in the paper
the next morning that “Miss Helen Taft conducted a large political meeting at Bryn Mawr
College last night.” Kate Rotan opened the haranguing with a speech for Taft; Barbara
Spofford spoke for Bryan; Elizabeth Tappan, with an excellent imitation of Mr. Leeds,
spoke for the Socialists; Jeanne Kerr for the Independents, and Leila Houghteling for the
Prohibitionists. ‘The speeches were interrupted the whole time by the disorder that prevailed,
and several arrests had to be made, the policemen sweeping down from the platform and
doing their duty nobly. At the end of each speech the Suffragist. party rose to its feet
and asked each speaker in chorus: “Do you believe in giving women the franchise?” This

50




was answered by evasions in most cases, but we have learnt to expect that. Finally we all
adjourned to the polls downstairs to vote. The policemen had orders not to allow the mem-
bers of the Anti-Suffragist party to vote. This displeased them immensely, and one of
their members, on being laughed at for wishing to vote, said: “Oh, but it’s woman’s chief
charm to be inconsistent” —a rather unanswerable argument. When we had all voted, we
returned to the “assembly hall” and waited for the returns.

The voting was as follows:

Republican vote
Democrat ....
Socialist ......

igs 248 18%

oe. 88 12.8%
aii 29 9.4%
a 7 22%

This only serves to show that college, after all, is “a little world,” not entirely separate
and different from the larger world outside, and that Bryn Mawr endorses Mr. Taft as

President of the United States.

Mary Warrau. WortTHINGToN.

A Winter Jodle

be tainp wind is whistling ‘round,
But J can’t bear a single sound.

(Che proctoring’s so loud pou know
It makes the wind seem faitlp low.)
Che library is warm and bright,
CGith manp a goodly maiden digbt.
But lo! Chere comes a silent chill
Tibich sweeps the spacious pall at will;
Each maid puts on her coat in baste,
(3 think she wears too thin a waist!)
Gnd in a sudden fit of blues
Sbe wildip hunts ber overshoes.

**CGbp should thep leap in cold alarm?
Che weather cannot do them barm.”’

** Ht is the footsteps of the wind
CUbich comes at nine. Chills neatly timed
CGill save them each an hour spent
3n the cloak-room on wraps intent.’’

‘** But why do pou sit calm anv bright
CTUithin pour epe a gentle light?”

** Stranger, J was not cold in time,
But then pou know F sat on mine.”

Wargaret Shearer

51
Hockey Junior Dear

N 1910 the hockey season of Junior year was the most exciting period, athletically,
that we have ever experienced. Pretty early in the season it became apparent, to us at
least, that we should have a very good chance of winning the inter-class championship,

for our practices went well, and six out of the ‘varsity eleven were 1910. When the match
games began, early in November, 1909 drew the Freshmen and we drew 1911. 1909 easily
disposed of the Freshmen, but to our horror and utter astonishment, 1911 beat us the first
game 3-2. The rest of the college, I think, must have smiled in its sleeve at the utter
incredulity expressed on our disconsolate faces as we came back from that game. We had
expected to win, and here we were, returning vanquished instead of victors. We had not
realised what ‘Jumping Johnnie’ can do when she really gets started. However, if there is
one thing that we have—I can say this without fear of contradiction as I am addressing my
classmates—it is the power to rally after a defeat. So when we came down on November
9th to play the Sophomores, our blood was fairly up. Fortune had been kind to us in many
respects, it is only fair to say, and, aided by luck, showed what we really could do, and beat
them 9-1. In the third game we won again, 4-2.

On Thursday, November 12th, we played our first game against 1909 in the finals, and
won 4-1 amid wild enthusiasm. And then a few days later came that memorable last game
of the season, when we won again 4-2. We had played these two games against the Seniors
without Kirky, and were therefore doubly elated at our victory, because we had been rather
afraid that Kirky, in her small, swift person, contained the elements that made it possible
for us to win. We missed her terribly on our forward line, but Frances Hearne and Apey
played as they never have played before, and the whole team did its level best to make up
for her loss.

I shall never forget that final game—which of us ever will? I am sure I was the only
one on the team who could hear the side lines distinctly, and I could only hear them in the
intervals between the nerve-racking attacks of the Senior forwards. I may say that I never
have heard such a noise in all my life. We all, I think, share the superstitious belief in the
secret power of that tuneful ditty, “Just One More,” and from the way the other classes
hate it, trying in vain to drown it out, they too believe in and fear its potency. As the ball
crossed into the enemies’ territory, the side lines, that is to say, the Juniors, nobly aided by
1912, would burst out into that long-drawn wail:

“Just one more, only just one more—
Go in Juniors and beat them by just one more.
Just one more, only just one more—
We'll be happy forever with
Just ONE Mort!










this last yelled without the least vestige of tune. How well I could hear Betty’s voice,
loud above everyone else’s. I believe that 1909 and 1911 were singing too, but the whole
noise seemed to be concentrated in this heart-rending appeal. And the spell worked—how
seldom it has failed we all know—and in triumph we hung our banner, at that time so start-
lingly purple and new, from the boardings of the new gym.

Though the class hockey games were the central feature of the hockey season from the
Juniors’ point of view, mention must be made of the ’varsity games. The forward line,
with the exception of Jeannette Allen, for Apey played in nearly all the games, was 1910,
while a half-back, one of the backs and the goal were from our team, too. Mary Nearing
was the most spirited and inspiring captain, and altogether we had one of the best ’varsities
the college has ever produced. No team could approach us, not even Merion, our old
enemy, whom we beat 3-2, until it came to the All Philadelphia game. They beat us 5-0.

No account of hockey Junior year would be complete without an account of that
famous contest between 1909 as the Perfect Ladies and 1910 as the Bryn Mawr Ladies.
As the terms are obviously synonymous, the teams were very equal and the struggle was
a close one. Every member of the two teams was in fancy dress, and everyone played
out of her place. I had come prepared to play goal for the Bryn Mawr Ladies, in 2
plastrons, a fencing mask, 4 hot water bottles, 2 pairs of pads, large gloves and 9 pigtails,
the only comfortable and safe costume for a goal. These I discarded (with the exception of
the pigtails), and played left wing, endangering my life at every stroke and at every step.
Our forwards, by persistently and lovingly hovering near the enemy’s goal posts, wherever
the ball might be, shot 12 goals in a most spirited fashion. Mary Ag received from me
my armour, and sat in goal on a chair, comfortably and safely reading a book. Mary
Nearing played the opposing side’s left wing, in a long black train dress and a charming
Miss Matty hat, tied with pink ribbons, under her chin. . Charlotte was a most peevish baby,
and Kate was her nurse in the intervals of shooting goals as center forward. Platty had
her clothes on back side front, a false face at the back of her head, and her hair braided
over her real face. When she walked she presented a startling and horrible appearance.
In the end, after a perfectly wild and disorganised game, the Bryn Mawr Ladies were
victorious over the Perfect Ladies, thus ending, in a most satisfactory fashion, the hockey
season of our Junior year.

a

Mary WHITALL WorTHINGTON.

53
The Mew Gymnasium

HE new gymnasium! Well, it is not really very different from the old one, after all.
Miss Applebee is always there, just the same as ever. Classes still go on in it, at
times. We know this, even those of us who do not indulge daily in gymnastic exercises

ourselves. Something tells us that there are.classes going on when we see the familiar
flying forms in varied costumes and colours making bee-lines due South (?) between the
moments of 3.431 and 8.45; 4.1714 and 4.20; 4.5214 and 4.55; and 5.271 and 5.80. And,
as in the past, the painfully interesting sounds of class songs, sung for the first time, float
out from the gym windows between one-thirty and two. Unwilling performers are still
dragged down to “do” track in the winter when evening is come and all outrages may begin.
Still, too, the drama makes its regular claims upon this fascinating building. Medea has
writhed out her agonies here, and “’T'ween’y” has doubled up with his dear ancestral cramps—
the very cramps, in fact, that took him in the old gym. No, the new gym is not at all a new
institution in college.

We think quite often of the old gym, still. Some of us have wondered now and then
in sentimental moods, that now and then overtake even Seniors, whither the dear old gym
is gone. It may, then, be interesting to some to know that it has gone to Radcliffe. At
least, its picture has been seen in a certain German magazine article with this inscription
under it, “Das Radcliffe Gymnasium.” We are glad to know that it is really so nicely
settled, and feel deeply obliged to that German magazine for setting our minds at rest.

There is, however, in spite of the apparent likeness of the new gym to the old, some-
thing different to 1910. For us, the old gym had always been here. We were conscious,
many of us in a hazy, dreamy way, that it was standing around us when we took our pre-
liminaries. I myself remember distinctly only the ropes that hung stupidly above me and
refused to offer any helpful suggestions, even when my mind was becoming most hopelessly
lost. Other details, no doubt, have dim places in the minds of others in 1910.

Later, as Freshmen, with a few atoms more of calmness, we were received there in due
form by various collegiate bodies, and, still later, were given ample opportunity to notice and
become acquainted with every detail of the old gym. My point is that it was as natural
for us to accept the old red gym as to accept the campus itself for a part of Bryn Mawr
that always had existed and, as far as we looked ahead, always should exist.

But, behold! Now it is gone, and we are among the forces that did away with it, and

54








we are of the forces that replaced it with a new gymnasium. How trivial and temporal a
thing does a gymnasium now seem to 1910! We sent a few printed slips to our friends;
we voted in a class meeting now and then to allow the proceeds of our next performance to
go into the gymnasium fund; we gave a bit here and there ourselves; we in no way discour-
aged the students who wished to give more than we ourselves could give. That was all we
did, and, lo, the new gym!

It is true that the time taken by the construction of this building was very long, but as
compensation we had the pleasure of seeing each stone go into the building and of knowing
that things were being done correctly. Another advantage derived from the delay was the
opportunity it gave us for improving the general “run” of the students. We were all of
us much the better for those twenty-minute dashes, taken instead of gym classes—six times
from the Deanery to the Low Building’s path in the cold, misty evenings of the late autumn
and early winter. Even the delightful running-track of the gym, at last completed, has
not quite the romantic charm of the campus roads—in a heavy mist on a cold evening.

Another pleasure that this new building has afforded us is the joy of laying a corner-
stone. We are sorry for any class that has not at some point in its career laid a corner-
stone. Perhaps it can be arranged in some way to change about the corner-stones in the
standing buildings every few years, in order that each class may have at least one chance to
help lay one. At this ceremony Miss Applebee, under the assumed name of Miss Appletree,*
read the President’s address. Other addresses followed. We had the pleasure of seeing
some members of the faculty sitting about and listening to other people talk; we had our
pictures taken, and sang an appropriate song that we did not know. (But Mary Rand
knew it, so it was all right.) And then we had refreshments. This last point is one that
especially makes us wish that every class might help to lay a corner-stone.

Of course 1909 had to hang its banner on the new gym first of all. We understood
that perfectly. But we did our best to help 1909 really to earn that honour. We modestly .
waited to hang ours out for hockey this fall, and we honestly do believe that dark blue, or
any colour that was originally dark blue, is the most becoming to the new gym.

There are, of course, many more things that might be said on the subject of the new
gym, but I must not say them, lest I leave nothing for the speaker on the steps when we
bid our farewells. But we do love the gym. That must be said here. It has not taken
long to build itself into the happiness of our lives here in Bryn Mawr. Certainly every
member of the class of 1910 joins in the often repeated, yet deeply sincere hope, “Long may

she live and thrive!’ Este Drees.
*See Public Ledger 55
Wwockey at Wryn Mawr College

(Notice from the “ Philadelphia Ledger”)

IELD HOCKEY, which was introduced into Bryn Mawr this fall by Miss Helen
1% Taft, is arousing great interest among the girls. “The girls play very well,’ says
Miss Taft. “I think I shall have papa come and watch a game next spring after I
get them into training.” And Miss Taft bit her lips to keep back the tears with which
she always mentions her father’s name. Miss Taft usually plays centre forward; but she
plays all other positions equally well, and is in great demand on all the class teams. But,
of course, it is college etiquette to offer one’s services first to the Seniors, then to the
Juniors, and so on.

_ During the game, the girls sit on the bank and sing little songs which they make up
on the spur of the moment. Sometimes two or three girls make up the same song and sing
it together. The object of the game is to get the ball into the goal. There are a great
many technicalities which are rather hard to master, but the college faculty and Miss Taft
hope that Time, the great leveller, will obliterate the little distinctions between bulleys and
corners, along with all other lamentable sectarian divisions. “The goal’s the thing! Is it not, ©
girls?” says Miss Taft, enthusiastically.

Besides making goals, another requisite of good hockey is sandwiches. In the middle
of the game a whistle is blown, and the members of the teams stop and partake of a light
lunch. All through the game, sandwiches are sold on the side lines. When the girls run
out of sandwiches, they sing:

“Just one more.”
The Juniors sing:

“For gracious sake, don’t let those Seniors eat them!”

RutH GEORGE.

56




Che Children’s Hour

ettueen chapel time and noon-Dap, TGith the gentle inductive method
Chen wearp epes gaze on the Tower, Chep are taught of the singing of birds,
Comes a pause in the Dap’s occupations Chep are Caught to be glad of the sunshine,

CUbich is known as the Children’s our. Co see Meaning in each little Tord.

3 see in the great grap school-room Chere thep learn to love the great Poets,
Che Murse with rattle and ball, Tbo have philosophies, one and all,
Qnd sitting around before per weet care for bares and for lambkins,
Che pouth of Caplor ball. And a sad little ass’s call.
Qll wearp of mental exertion “*@be world calls these things Crivialt
Tired and full of care, Cdihat do ou call them, Class-a?
hep come for a moment of plap-time, 3 want pou to See the Tiberefores!
For Poetrp’s made simple there. In this the Poet's surpass-a.””

Wargaret Shearer

57
KARA

Mancing Ill

TOLD Betty Tenney at luncheon that, as I belonged in Dancing II, I was sure I should

not feel at home in Dancing III or IV. Betty said that it made no difference in the

world; everyone was welcome; she herself had never danced a step in her life. She
said nobody knew the steps, and to come on by all means. I had twenty gym periods to make
up before Easter, so I allowed myself to be persuaded. While I hung about waiting for the
class to begin, I confided to all the people I saw that I had never been to III and that I
did not know the steps. They all said they didn’t either; none of them knew one single step.
In my simple innocence I believed Babbie and Dorothy Nearing. As I remember, both of
them all but went on their oath that they had never been inside a dancing class. My spirits
rose. If they knew so terribly little about it, probably I should be the best person on the
floor. In my mind’s eye I saw Miss Applebee summoning me to the front to do Topsy with
Miss Gray for Babbie’s and D. Nearing’s edification and growth in grace. |

When Miss Applebee shouted to us to take our places on the floor, I retired, from
sheer force of habit, to the rear of the room, like the modest violet. Miss Applebee looked
us over.

“George, do you belong in Dancing III?” (You understand I had not yet commenced.
to dance. Obviously, even my face looked out of place in Dancing III.)

“Well, I don’t just belong, Miss Applebee.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m making up, Miss Applebee.” (If it were not for the trouble to the type-setters,
I should print these replies of mine in fine and ever-receding type.)

“Making up, are you?” (If it were not for using up the pages of the Class Book,
I should print Miss Applebee’s remarks like shop signs.)

58






“You’RE MAKING UP, ARE you, GrorcE?” (If it were not for my innate delicacy, I
should tell what else Miss Applebee said and in what thunder tones she said it.) As I
remember, the gallery was one sea of faces. At such times, death were a sweet release.

Miss Applebee said we would do the something-or-other from the beginning. Then,
without a moment’s warning, Miss Taylor struck into a perfect riot of sound, and, before I
could so much as leap out of the way, the whole class was upon me with waving arms and
twinkling legs. With the mere hope of saving my life, I sprang quickly upon the parallel
bars at my right, from which vantage point, once safe, I began to look about for Betty and
Babbie and D. Nearing. My mind’s eye (still active) saw them trampled under foot in this
mad whirl, for I remembered immediately that they, alas, could not dance! They were not
lying on the floor, nor had they taken refuge on the parallel bars nor the vaulting-horse;
they were not hanging to the ropes nor the horizontal ladder. Then, suddenly—will you
believe me—I saw Betty Tenney airily treading the intricacies of the dance as if she had
danced it from her cradle to that moment. Then I said in my haste, all men are liars;
and I have never taken it back.

“George, where are you going?” demanded Miss Applebee, just as I was sneaking
unobtrusively past the dumb-bell rack.

I wanted to say, in Byronic tones:

“To hang myself!”

But I only murmured, “Home, Miss Applebee.”

“Well, you get back into line,” roared Miss Applebee, smiling captivatingly. And I
may add that, before the class was dismissed, I had acquired considerable dexterity in
gamboling up and down behind the crowd without sustaining any serious or vital in juries
from their untimely and totally incalculable advances and retreats.

RutTH GEORGE.

59
a

UT

Mpedea

HE trials of our stage manager in getting this

“Greek tragedy acted thrillingly
By the class of 1910 oh”











































might fill a thick volume. There was trouble in every direction. Even the youngest mem-
ber of the cast, little Alfred, filled us with despair by remarking, after several periods of
drilling, that he “wasn’t going to be here for the play.” Convinced by material arguments
that he was to be present on the occasion, he continued to make rehearsals interesting by
his mischief, and submitted gracefully to the inevitable.

Then, too, the green dye on the carpet showed a tendency to permeate the air and find
its way to the noses and throats of the actors. As a result, some of them found that there

A No hope more of the actors speaking

No hope more.

Jason and the Messenger, with some of the ladies of the chorus, took refuge in the
infirmary, where by dint of steaming their throats most of the night, their stage whispers
were able to penetrate to the first row of the audience. Even at the dress rehearsal, Jason
was so fearful of becoming again inaudible that he (or she) went through the gestures and
action of the part while his lines were read. Our audience of maids took this calmly, sup-
posing that the dual personality of the hero was the proper thing in a Greek play. For-




tunately, at the first performance Jason was himself again. ‘The Messenger and the Nurse
still had occasion to resort to secret stores of cough drops hidden in crevices of the scenery.

Speaking of the scenery—there was trouble in that line too. After the dignified exits
through the back door, a crash or a dull thud was likely to follow. In case the chair had
been temporarily removed from behind the door, actors must e’en reach terra-firma as best
they could, which was usually by falling off the edge or taking a wild leap into space.
However, the effect of the scenery from the point of view of the audience was all that
could be asked. The play was a long series of pictures against the background of the
Greek house, with its white columns and portico, Medea, tense with suppressed hatred as
she listened to Jason’s lordly, solicitous speeches; the Pedagogue, watching the children’s
play; the Messenger, giving the terrible details of the death of the Princess, while Medea
and the Grecian women listened, fascinated by the horror of the description; Medea sobbing
on the steps, with the children’s arms around her; Jason pounding at the doors as he hears
the shrieks of the murdered children; the terrified women crouching by the house, and,
finally, Medea, in a circle of light, standing in her dragon chariot on the housetop—all
these pictures and many others would have told the story without a word being spoken. At
intervals through it all came the Grecian women, in their softly-coloured, graceful robes,
singing their ancient choruses to wild, beautiful music, as they paced with stately tread before
the portico.

And the acting! Being 1910, we are rather proud of the histrionic success of some
of our members that night. The rendering of their difficult parts by Jason, the Messenger,
and, above all, “Me dear,” made us proud to belong to the same class with these all.

Back roll the folds of the elegant red curtain.
My! the gym is changed, and the chairs of it filled up;
1909 is here, yea, in scores, that is certain,
_ With 1910, the Juniors, to sup.
And we-uns, yea, we-uns, are stage-struck and scary;
The music shall cease, and the memory that lingers
Of lines well rehearsed shall vanish from our minds.
For we learned them well and knew them, but our lips are dumb; our fingers
Can find not the cough-drop in the chink,
Else, else, oh 1909, we'd be able to speak louder
Our long tale of woes in preparing for this play.
But the whole class it knoweth—’tis the gossip at all tables—
How good we are; we know it and keep still.
We know it and keep still. Hitpa W. SMITH.
Taking the Steps

HE wide lawns, swung with their gay garden party lanterns, lay glimmering about
us; the shadows fell sof tly from battlemented towers and overflowed from the
hollows like dark rising water; and evening, the last evening of our Junior year,

crept spirit-like over the campus. 1909—Seniors tonight, Alumne tomorrow—were singing
for the last time on Taylor steps, and we, 1910—Juniors tonight, Seniors tomorrow—were
ready to take from them this, their final gift, this loved privilege of Senior year, this
strongest bond between us and the Senior Classes who have gone before us and those who
are to follow after. So, squeezed together, chins on knees, we sat on the grass and the
adjacent gravel walk, and waited for the great moment. The crowds of people who had
invaded the campus for the Garden Party, and who now sat, hushed and listening, out there
beneath the trees, gave to the occasion a deepened atmosphere of solemnity and importance,
though for us, living in anticipation of the great moment, its solemnity needed no enhance-
ment.

So thrilled were we, indeed, by the sense of the approaching denoument that we almost
lost sight of the fact that 1909 was singing. Gradually, however, as they swung on through
their familiar, charming cycle—basket ball songs, play songs, oral songs, songs to their
Freshmen and to us—the consciousness came to us of how many times we had heard these
songs of 1909 before, and how many times we could hear them again without ever tiring of
them; of how many of our own memories and affections and experiences were bound up
with them, and of how much of our own college life would fall back into the past with
them. So, for a little while, we forgot the great moment and listened. And when they
called upon us, we answered them hearty and strong (though perhaps a little off the key),
as if we would put into these last songs all our love for 1909.

As the evening drew to its close, however, and the songs and cheers of the various
“reuning” classes began to ring out here and there from the darkness, the remembrance of
the great moment returned to us, and we began to get warm and nervous and fidgety and
uncomfortable, as one is wont to get in the presense of great moment. We squirmed about
on the grass and the gravel walk, and untangled our feet as well as possible from those of
our neighbours, and tried to prepare ourselves to spring, with grace and dignity as well as
quickness, to a standing posture when the great moment should have arrived. Oh, that our
hampering bodies should always prevent our souls from meeting such moments with untrou-

bled exaltation and calm!
62






1908 had finished singing. We planted our feet squarely on the ground before us,
balanced our arms in the air, and prepared to rise. “1911 Class Song,” called 1909. We
sank back, rebuffed. Could it be that they had f. orgotten us on this of all occasions? Of
course not! We were to sing last tonight.. So we possessed our soul in patience while 1911
tunefully offered “all that they may be and all that they are” on the shrine of their Alma
Mater, and 1909, for the last time as undergraduates, pledged love and loyalty to their
college and their class.

“Now don’t go too fast,” Kate admonished us, in a hoarse whisper. “Pass it on, will
* you? For heaven’s sake, don’t act too anxious.” “And don’t forget your pitch,” urged
Betty Tenney. “Tum, tum tum. Do you get it?’ “No,” said Kirky, “it’s ta, ta, ta.”
(We always take advantage of other people’s singing to dispose of our private differences
of opinion.) “Ready, now,” came Kate’s whisper again, breaking the sudden silence which
had fallen. “They are starting down now. Get ready, 1910.”

Yes, they were starting. Slowly and with bowed heads, 1909 was leaving the steps—
the Senior steps—their steps, for how could they ever belong to another class? Was this
the great moment for which we had waited? If so, where was our eagerness? “Slow,”
hissed Kate again. “Don’t stampede.”

But Dorothy Nearing, with characteristic single-mindedness, had already marched
coolly and swiftly to the top of the steps, and turned in solitary state to survey the crowd
below. Somebody giggled audibly, and the rest of us clambered after our pioneer. Only
I, slow to wake up to the demands of the occasion, could get no higher up than the gravel
walk, and since I had been sitting on the same gravel walk all evening, the proceedings struck
me as something of an anti-climax. Those who got to the top, however, tell us that the
whole world looked different from the height of the Senior steps, and that it was very
wonderful and inspiring, as we sang our Class Song there, to think that 1910, the freshest
of Freshmen, the wildest of Sophomores, and the gayest, most irresponsible of Juniors, had
come at last to its majority. But the thought was sobering, too, bringing with it the inevit-

able sadness of change. - KATHARINE LIDDELL.

ae
Tennis
Class Championship won by
1909
College Championship Cup
Won by A. Wurrwer, ’09
Captains
M. Berxieviize, ’09
M. Kiiwesr, "11
E. Swirr, "10
E. Fantes, "12
Class Team
E. Swirr, M. Suearer,
C. V. Smaonps
Class Team in Doubles

E. Swrrt and M. Suearer
E. Tewxy and C. V. Susonps

M. Krex and D. Neanixe

Class Champion—E. Swirr

"Varsity Team
M. Bevrevitxe, ’09, Captain
A. Warrwer, ‘09
E. Swirr, "10
E. Fantes, "12
E. Tewxey, "10
A. Pratt, '09, Substitute

Matches
Bryn Mawr vs. Alumnae

Singles
A. Wurrwey vs. Mas. Sixciam
Woop, ’01—6-1, 6-4
E. Fanres vs. Mus. Lezps Near-
Inc, "08—6-0, 6-1

PJuntor Athletics

_E. Swirr vs. E. Hargrmeron,
06—7-5, 2-6, 6-8

Doubles

M. Betievirre and A. Warr-
wer vs. M. Youne, '08, and
Mas. Neagrne, '08—6-4, 6-1

E. Swrrt and E. Farres vs. M.
Hoveutox, °06, and E.
Hazazrxcron, ’06—

4-6, 7-5, 1-6

Bryn Mawr vs. Merion Cricket

Club
D. C. Green vs. E. Farnres, 12
—6-1, 9-7

M. Sarees vs. E. Swirt, "10—
6-2, 6-4

Mas. Garew vs. M. Bevieviiie,

’09-—-6-2, 6-1

C. Cuase vs. E. Texwey, '10—
6-1, 6-3

I. Sarres vs. A. Pratt, '09—
6-1, 6-3

Dockep
Championship won by 1910

Captains
M. Nearrye, ’09
L. Hovenretie, "11
M. Krex. "10
K. Cosreiror, "12

Class Team

M. Kriex, Captain
J. Hower.
F. Hearxe





M. Asuier

A. Wuirremore
K. Roran

E. Dexton

C. Smmonps

E, Waker

S. ALLINson

M. Worruinctron

Scores
1910 vs. 1911—3-2
1910 vs. 1911—8-1
1910 vs. 1909—4-1
1910 vs. 1909—4-1

*VaRsITy
M. Neanine, '09, Captain
T. Howe t, *10
A. Wurrwey, °09
M. Krex, *10
F. Hearwe, '10
J. Attey, "11
C. Wessow, '09
E. Denison, *10
A. Prarrt, ’09
K. Roraw, "10
M. Worruicrox, °10

Substitutes from 1910.
M. Asuuey, C. V. Soronps
E. Warxer

*Vansrry Scones
Bryn Mawr vs. Belmont—12-1
Bryn Mawr vs. Philadelphia—
5-5
Bryn Mawr vs. Lansdowne—8-2
Bryn Mawr vs. Germantown—
5-1 :


Puntor Athletics—continuen

Bryn Mawr vs. Merion—2-1

Bryn Mawr vs. All-Philadelphia
—1-5

Bryn Mawr vs. B. M. Alumnae
——§-1

Swimming Contest

Championship won by 1909
Captains
G. Broprez. ’09
D. Corr, ’11 ‘

I. Taser, 710
E. Faanres, 712

Events won by 1910

Plunge for distance—K. Evans,
47 ft. 10 in.—College record.
140 ft.swim on front—I. Tanez,
46 3-5 secs.
139 ft. swim on back—D. Asu-
TON, 48 secs.
Class Relay—1910.

Class Points—33

Water Polo
Tournament won by 1910
Captains

G. Brpptz, ’09
D. Corriy, *11
I. Taner, 710

E. Fanrtes, 712

Class Team
D. AsHToN

F. Hearne

I. Taser, Captain
C. Smonps

E. Denison

J. HowEwn

S. ALLINsoNn

E. Murruy

Scores

1910 vs. 1911—7-5
1910 vs. 1909—12-1

Indoor Crack Weet

Class Championship Cup
won by 1909

Individual Cup won by
Emerson, 711
Captains

K. Ecos, °09

H. Emerson, 711
K. Ketrey, 710
M. W. Brown, 712

Events won by 1910

Class Tug of War—1910
Class Points, 7—Fourth Place

Basket Ball
Championship won by 1909

Captains
A. Pratt, ’09
J. ALLEN, ’11
F. Hearne, 710
W. Scriptore, 712
65

Class Team

J. HowEwui

M. Irvine

A. WHITTEMORE
K. Lippe.

E. Denison

M. Kir«

C. V. Stmonps
M. AsHLEY

K. Roran

F. Hearne, Captain

Scores

1910 vs. 1912—17-2
1910 vs. 1912—17-8
1909 vs. 1910—13-6
1909 vs. 1910—7-6

*Varsity TEAM

A. Pratt, ’09, Captain
I. Goopnow, ’09
H. Emerson, 711
J. ALLen, *11
C. Wesson, ’09
E. Denison, 710
F. Hearne, ’10
K. Roran, °10
L. Hovenrtetine, 711

Substitutes from 1910
A. Wuirremorg, C. V. Srwonps,
M. Kirk, J. Howet1,
M. AsHLEy
Score
Bryn Mawr vs. Alumnae—14-2










Senior Wear














Class Mfficers

President—KatTuariInE L. Rotan
Vice-President and Treasurer—Zir S. FauK

Secretary—DorotHy NEARING

Mffices held by the Class

Self-Government Association—President, H1itpa W. SmitH
Vice-President, E1ste DEEMS © s
Advisory Board, E11zaBETH Tapes, Dorotruy Nearine, C. Brssre Cox
Undergraduate Association—President, Mase P. ASHLEY
Vice-President, Hitpa W. SmitH
Christian Union—President, RutH Bascock
Bryn Mawr League—President, Exsre DrEEMsS
Vice-President, MArGaRrET SHEARER
Athletic Association—President, Eisa DENISON
Indoor Manager, Frances H. HEARNE
Students’ Building Committee—ALIcE WuirremMorE, RutH Casort
Equal Suffrage League—President, Mary WorTHINGTON
Philosophical Club—President, Mary WorTHINGTON
English Club—President, Rutn Grorce; KatHarinE LippeLL, Grace BRANHAM
Science Club—President, Janer HowE.
Glee Club—Leader, ExizanetH TENNEY
Mandolin Club—Leader, AcNEs M. Irwin
Choir Mistress—E1tsa DENISON
Trophy Club—President, SusANNE C. ALLINSON, JANET T. Howe.
Head Fire Captain—Manion Kirrx
Class Dfficers—Continued

Lantern—Editor-in-Chief, KATHARINE LippELL; Editors, RutH GrorGe, GRACE BRANHAM
Business Manager—IzetTe 'TABER

Tipyn o° Bob—Editor-in-Chief, Grack BranuaM; Managing Editor, RutH GEoRGE
"Varsity Hockey—Captain, KatHartnE L. Rotan
"Varsity Basket Ball—Captain, Frances H. HEARNE
Law Club—Treasurer, JEANNE B. KERR
Consumers’ League—President, Mmtam HepceEs

Scholarships

Maria Hopper—KatTuHarinE LIppELL Brooke Hall Memorial—HE.tEN BuiEy
European Fellowship—HeEtEN M. Bury

First Ten—HELEN M. Biey, 89.469; Exsa Denison, 87.004; Karuartne L. Roran,
86.708; AcNEs M. Irwin, 85.638; ALBIONE L. vAN SCHAACK, 84.476; JANET HowE Lt,
84.429; Ere. B. Cuase, 84.183; HENRIETTA SHARP, 83.742; Marion Kirk, 83.623;
ViIoLET KEILLER, ‘82.666.**

George W. Childs Essay Prize—Gracre B. Brannam
Mary Helen Ritchie Memorial Prize—Mary D. W. WortHINGToN

@raduate Scholarships

In Mathematics—Miuu1cent Ponp

Permanent Class Mfficers

President—KatuarinE L. Rotan Secretary—DorotHy NEARING

**Helen Scott, ’09, 85.302.
Isabella Pyfer, 08, 83.687.

68




Calendar of Senior Wear

SErTeMBer 29 ......... College Opened.

Szrremper $0 .........Rush Night.

CPOMOMME Fo ood vcngiccias Christian Union Reception.

Ocroper 4 ..... .......First Senior Singing on Taylor Steps.
Ocroner 15 ...........Senior Reception to 1913. .

Oovrenmn 86 «is cisdecs First Senior Oral in French.

Ocroumn 80. ..ccevenes -Unveiling Memorial to Clara J. McKenney.
Ocroser 30 ...... ..+++First German Oral.

Novemser 8 anp 12.....Hockey Match Games with 1912.

November 15 ..........First President’s Reception.

Novemser 18, 22 anv 30.. Hockey Finals with 1913 won by 1910.
November 19 ..........Mr. Whiting’s First Musical Recital.
December 10 ..........First Class Tea in Pembroke West.

Decemper 18 ..........Performance of Boston “Medea” in Philadelphia.
January 7 ............Graduate Dance to 1910.

January 8 anv 14.......Swimming Meet won by 1910.

January 19 anp 29... ...Mid-Years.

Fesrvany 12 ..........1908 repeated “The Amazons” for the Endowment Fund.
Fesrvary 18 ..........Mrs. Hooker, ’01, lectured on Woman Suffrage.

Fesrvary 25 ..........Our Class Tea to the Graduates.

Fesrvary 25, Marcu 4 ..Track Meet.

Marcu 18 ......+......European Fellowships announced.

Marcu 19 .............Annual Glee Club Concert.

mete D oc ecas wihaepes Philosophy Club Lecture.

Bat. 6 ...wcuse ..+..-..Founder’s Lecture. Mr. Harris.

Aver, 18 2... ercnewasin Fellowship Supper.

Apnzit 30...... .+.+....Last Oral passed—Hoop Rolling.

Aprit 30 ..... ee eeeesestunglish Club Lecture.

ad es osewnseecusameay Day Fete.

May @ awn 11 .6cct sss Basket-ball Preliminaries with 1918.

Baay 18 .. ec cusd cues Junior-Senior Supper.

May 14 anp 20 ........ Basket-ball Finals with 1911. 1910 won Championship.

MEAT 14 . 000 cuccddeuwes 1912 Picnic to 1910.

Meee 36 oka s ccccuus .«eRepetition of “When Knighthood Was in Favour,” by 1909, for the Benefit

of the Endowment Fund.

MOAT BG vincccccieunhes Last Day of Lectures.

MeAy 26 10 88 . 6c ccaces Finals.

MER OO veccecesvadeeua 1910 Picnic to 1912.

BRON ME oi sccvveedens . Senior Reception to the Faculty.

May 29 ..... Wsoesenean Baccalaureate Sermon by Dr. Johnston Ross.

WEAN Ds iicvccccdeens 1910 Picnic to 1911.

May GO i cccccvcens «+ .Senior Class Dinner.

Mar SF cccceccee ceeses Senior Bonfire.

MAS GE ii icess ceccccc Alumnx ’Varsity Tennis Tournament.
Alumne ’Varsity Basket-ball Game.

June 1 ivbceneas ‘ College Breakfast.
Garden Party. Gave up the Steps.

Commencement Address by President Taft.
Completion of the First Half Million for Academic Endowment.






‘La Memoriam

Clara Justine Mckenneyp

Metober 20, 1889
February 1, 1909














The pPresentatton of the Sun Mial

NE Friday afternoon late in October we gathered in cap and
gown at the end of Senior Row. As we walked down across
the grass between the maple trees, in their full glory of

autumn gold, with the sunlight streaming through them and the
fresh wind blowing all the dust of laboratory and classes from us,
I think we all felt, even if only vaguely, that we were to be turned
around from a dull contemplation of mere shadows in the Cave to
look, for a while at least, toward the dawn and toward the light.
In the slanting sunlight we stood in a circle around the dial in
its white covering. Mr. and Mrs. McKenney were there; Virginia
and Annie Harrington. The covering was taken off, Kate came
forward, and, with the silver trowel used for so many corner-stones
of the college, laid the last trowelful of mortar. In a few words,
as only Kate is able to do, she expressed our love and admiration
of Clara, and there, in the name of the class, she presented the sun-dial to Bryn Mawr, to be
a memory of her joyous life, which indeed “marked only sunny hours.” To our great
regret, President Thomas was unable to be there to receive it, so Mr. Bettle; one of the
trustees, took her place. Dr. Barton was there at our request to represent the faculty.
While Mr. Foley was planting around the base the ivy which Mrs. McKenney had
brought from Blanford Cemetery, in Petersburg, where Baby is buried, we sang our class

song, and then “Thou Gracious Inspiration.” As quietly as we had gathered, we stole away,
feeling that



“The spirit of class holds true
Over the world and under the world
And back, Bryn Mawr, to you.”

had for us now a new and deeper meaning than when we wrote it in our care-free Freshman
year.

Susanne Cary ALLINSON.






‘Lu Memoriam

frances Appleton Jackson

Wap 31, 1887
September 29, 1909














n the twenty-ninth of September, 1909, Frances
Jackson died at her home in Boston. It is not
easy to Cind words in which to tell of Her loss to

out class. Able, efficient, and always reliable, she per:
formed cheerfully and well the many tasks that we
entrusted to Der. Her happy smile, ber lightheartenness,
bet winning personal charm, and ber intense lopalty were
qualities which endeared ber to a countless number of
friends. But her most distinguishing characteristic, |
perhaps, was ber wonderful, genuine human sympathy.
Che grief of a Criend was her grief; the happiness or
success of another was ber own. She was absolutely
without enbp or pretense; eberp thought, eberp word, eberp
beed testified to ber beep sincerity. Her sudden death in
the berp flower of Her youth, brought an unspeakable griet
to cach member of 1910. Time will not dim in our hearts
the bear memory of our Freshman Class Presinent.

Lhatherine Kotan,




me tS

—










‘Lau Memoriam

J. €dmund caright

February 22, 1910

Professor of MPathematics at Bryn MPator College












Parsity hockep

ARSITY HOCKEY this last season was very successful. Seven members and sev-

V eral substitutes were left from last year’s team, and these made an admirable nucleus

for our team this fall. We played seven games, and lost only one of them, that

with the All Philadelphia team. It was, however, our most important game, and its loss

was a great disappointment. May future teams have better luck and greater skill than we!
The following are the team and schedule for the season of 1909-10:

TEAM

Forwards Full-Backs
Howett, 710 Hearne, 710 Roran, 10 (captain) Stetson, 713
Kirk, 710 Asutey, °10

ALuen, 710 Goal

Worrurneton, 710

Half-Backs
Denison, 710 Emerson, ’11 Substitutes from 1910

Eean, "11 Srmmonps | WuHuitTEMORE

SCHEDULE OF GAMES

Bryn Mawr oe. Germantown: 24 0.5. .-. cc. ccceunmenseccecse Oct. 16th, score 17-0
Bryn Mawr vs. Belmont .......+eeeeeees doc whaives see's ‘eh oe eS OTN
Bryn Mawr vs. Philadelphia Cricket Club.,............ee000 Oct. 27th “ 9-3
Bryn Mawr vs. Lansdowne .....-+..++++. eek hie eee eee ee eee Oct. 30th, not played
Firyah Diawe Ge, Peelinont. 5 ite oa cise cece we ee pak ns se cne Noy. 6th, score 12-1
Bryn Mawr vs. Merion Cricket Club..... piste wee dk saan wen Nov. 18th “ 12-2
Bryn Mavr vs. Alumne ......... hed sb Shwe RS sie swe Nov. 20th “ 7-1
Bryn Mawr os. All Philadelphians: s io. 056.646 bisbi'ee') se dae ae Dec. 4th “ 3-7

KATHERINE Rotan,

76


The s2o-proctor Spstem

S Wellesley phrased it, the ideal of any no-proctor system is: “Quiet from 8-1, from
2-4, from 7.80 to 9, and after 10, ABSOLUTE SILENCE!” These words went
to the heads of the Bryn Mawr delegation and rang in its ears until, by degrees and

many meetings, they were formulated into a scheme of revolution. At that time every hall
had well-regulated proctors that went off at regular intervals into penetrating hushes
between 7.30 and 9.15 every evening. ‘Though the new plan of “everyone her own thermo-
stat” had been adopted, it was not so easy to break into the peculiarly pernicious power of

the pompously imperious proctors. A proctor who sits alertly in her room, with her door
- open and ears pinched to catch the faintest rustle of noise at the other end of the campus,
is not to be lightly dislodged. She has probably impressed her family with the fact that
she is in an official position to drown all other noise in the hall with her own remonstrances.
She has a certain prestige in the corridor, and there are often little perquisites attached to
her office, such as ice cream or fudge, which emanate from noisy parties, and are designed to
soothe her pretended rage. The only tactful thing for a proctor to do under such circum-
stances is either to join the party herself, or to go home, close her door, and put cotton in her
ears.

So, on the whole, we foresaw it was not going to be easy to persuade the proctors to retire

gracefully from office. |

“But the NOISE in the HALLS,” we repeated, in a Bored Tone. “The proctor

system cannot be adequately adjusted to the exuberant enthusiasm of riotous revels.”
Whereupon the offended proctors began as one man to intimate the reasons the halls were
noisy. They said:

“My hall is nev-er nois-y.

In fact, it has been un-us-u-al-ly qui-et.

The en-tire trou-ble is due to the

noise Squeaky stairs
from { Slamming doors
Talking Wardens
Thin walls
Singing maids
Loud Neckties
Vacuum Cleaners
Rattling dishes
Voluble suitors
and
Echoes.”


But finally it was voted, in a big meeting, that the proctors be laid on the shelf. As
soon as they were hoisted into their places and tucked comfortably up, silence deep as the |
tomb settled over the college. Not a shriek was heard in the corridors of Deadbroke;
never a squeak from Gradnor. No longer did one witness the exciting spectacle of a whole
supper party getting under the bed at the approach of a proctor; no longer did a penetrat-
ing hush waken one from sleep at midnight; no longer did “six students take hands and
move down the corridor, in quiet or non-quiet hours, making noises no lady should make.”
Profound gloom descended upon our halls. The only sound was a tired, far-away “S-sh!”
from the row of proctors on the shelf. 1 WW Sues

practical Philosophy

. as on a Dark and gloomp morn 3 bad no weapon bp mp couch,
3 oped mp epes; Qo slipper near.
3t lacked five minutes of the time Chat it was aiming for mp place
TUben 3 must rise, Cas all too clear.
3 lap and pondered in mp mind 3 DID not pause to Dote upon
Cipon the things Che charms of rest,
Chat Wilton, too, bas pondered on, Mr whether J liked Chesterton
and Sbakespeare sings. Mr Sbakespeare best.
THiben suddenly 3 saw a form **Somebovdp bas to leave,” said 3
Slide Down mp wall,— Distractedlp
@ longish, vagueish sort of thing! “dnd something tells me that ‘it might
Mone Heard mp call. as well be me.’”
Dorothy Ashton.




Drals

Y keenest impression of orals is of how handsome Dr. Jessen looked. No, my very
keenest is of how handsome I looked myself. As soon as I got out of bed on the
morning of orals, I began taking deep breaths. By the time I was called in at

three in the afternoon, I felt myself so highly inflated that only the weight of pending
tragedy held me to earth. My best linen had come back so stiff from the laundry that it
lent me exactly the feeling of being newly papered throughout. My waist had a simple
touch of Irish lace about the neck and sleeves. I mention these details because I know
that, like myself, everyone feels that, some public recognition should be made of the valorous
services rendered her by her good clothes. Henrietta Riggs and Cabbie claim that Dr. Schinz
indicated the hand embroidery on their blouses and winked significantly to Dr. Leuba as they
came in. And Katharine Liddell—who, by the way, had to go twice to the pike on the
Friday afternoon before orals, which she had set aside for the exclusive preparation for that
event—was obliged ‘to rely on a bright lavendar bow to pull her through—which it did.

To return to myself, breathing deep and calm, I walked over to Taylor. The services
upstairs were not yet begun for the afternoon, owing to some preoccupation of Dr. Jessen.
There were fit companions in the lower hall, however, to fill in the time. We chatted pleas:
antly—never for one moment forgetting to breathe. We said no, we did not think we were
afraid. It was just the mere idea of going in, someone said. Which reminded me of a lit-
tle cousin of mine, who took a long climb with his uncle, and, when they asked him, “Are
you tired, Paul?” replied, sunnily, “No, I’m not tired—it’s my legs.” Miss Crandall passed
through the hall—a good omen. She said, “You’re not nervous”—I don’t know whether it
was an interrogative or a declarative sentence, but we said, no, it was the mere idea of going in.

Well, in due season, the mere idea of going in resolved itself into the mere fact of going
in. Miss Walker acted as door-keeper, not unlike the stage arrangements of a game we
used to play at birthday parties when I was small. But the only vacant chair was in front
of Dr. Jessen, and I knew he would never have called me, so I took it in full assurance that
the only disaster I had to anticipate was of being clapped out.

Now, having described myself so adequately, let me return to how well Dr. Jessen
looked. If he had had a gilt paper crown and a little stick for a sceptre, he would have been
really too captivating. I have an idea that his own mental eye had fitted him out in this very
manner, for he held his head as if he were balancing a platter on it. Dr. Goetman, I may

79


say, grunted and wheezed and snickered noisily the while. I’m afraid I made some very
good jokes in my translation, for he became steadily more irrepressible. Miss Maddison
behaved like a lady, as she is. I must say I think it is too bad we can’t get some Chief
Mogul position for Dr. Jessen to hold permanently—the Bryn Mawr Pope, for example.

Of course, I can’t remember a word that I translated, but I have a feeling that if I
could just set down, word for word, the little dissertation I offered, coming generations
would read, and thereafter sing for their own consolation:

Ruth George got through,
So we know that we will too.

* a * * * * * * * * * * so * *

As for French, I adorned the outside of the cup and platter, as before, but for some
reason I could not rise to the exalted plane that makes handsome. Added to this, I knew
no French—a combination of short-comings warranted to produce the genuine oral emotion.
I may say I had it, out to my very finger-tips. ‘The trouble with the passage they gave me
was that it meant so many different things. I would start in cheerfully on a sentence,
understanding it perfectly; half way through my eyes would be opened to another possi-
bility—not to say necessity; I would try to glide over into an equivocal construction that would
embrace both ideas without committing myself to a preference for either; then, all at once,
I would find my plural verb to be written in the singular.

“But this is singular!” I would say to Dr. Blossom, indignantly, meaning him to under-
stand that disagreement between subject and predicate was a shocking carelessness that I
would not stand for, and that—not even in order to slide through my oral—was I willing to
allow this singular verb to slip by unchallenged. Then the next sentence, as likely as not,
instead of having two meanings, would have none, and I would have to call Dr. Blossom’s
attention to that deficiency. Probably Dr. Blossom was as much disgusted with the passage
as I was, for he hunted out another for me, and then another and another, and so on and on.
Then I was dismissed.

When I got back to the chapel, I fell upon the bosom of 1912, metaphorically. I
wanted to tell all the guesses I had made, but I couldn’t remember them, and Susanne
wouldn’t let me—at least, I suppose it was Susanne. I wasn’t fit for anything but eating
apples and pounding brass picture frames. For two hours I pounded and ate. My cap was

80



aa aed iri tic incase Mss ec acu i vacua Rena SHG ats gs ac la UMN ACR ah ik Oe i ei A IA te og et ee ca
peel aad fa csp Ne a be cso Bit tho te ave nd Sati Tibet) sat bead Fal cana i ied EA AN a ot cua FL a, ae BE









vial




on the floor under somebody’s chair. My hair—just washed, of course—was almost any
place. My face burned. My eyes ached. I knew I had flunked. At the end of the two
hours Miss Walker came to the door and called, “Miss George.” Miss George threw away
her apple core, grovelled on the floor for her cap and side-combs, finally clapped on Con-
stance Deming’s, wrong side foremost, with her tassle at Freshman year, and thus, in unpre-
meditated art and full-throated ease, made her last stand.

I don’t know where they got that passage. I never supposed there were such passages.
It fitted me as if it were made for me. It embraced all the words on my word-list and not
one more, except tandis que, which was revealed to me in a vision as I read. It was a little
argument in favour of peace—so convincing that I could scarcely resist a personal testimony
at the close. I believe there were tears in all eyes, and, with a sob in his voice, Dr. Blossom
said that would do.

And so I passed. Sic semper to all friends of 1910.

Rutu GEorcE.

Sh/ong Rebearsals

E may be able to conceal from the rest of the college what is to happen in most of
our important class meetings, but when they are mere song rehearsals—never.
The meeting is announced at luncheon; nobody hears where it is to be held; enough
that it is a song practice. We can’t finish our delicious luncheon—we are to have a song
rehearsal. At twenty minutes past one, frantic members of 1910 may be seen running wildly
in every direction over the campus, clutching papers in their hands (we don’t believe in sing-
ing without our words before us; we might make a mistake). Pembroke arrives, panting
in the music room (of course they think that the only place for a class meeting). Denbigh
stays at home, hoping the meeting may drop in on them. I don’t know where Rock goes;
I never have been able to find out. Sometimes Merion tries the gym, and if they do, they
find our president and another songster warbling duets. Then they are sure they are in the
wrong place, and flee. Perhaps as they go out, they find others who have had the same bril-
liant gym inspiration, and returning with these reinforcements, they break up the duet
party, and at five minutes of two we begin to sing. ‘Taylor soon helps us out, however,
and we depart, having gone through one verse, the same verse we have been singing for a
week,
81
But, best of all is the really great enthusiasm so evident in these sound orgies, for what
would a 1910 song rehearsal be like if each and every person were not carried away by her
desire to do well by the song. It is amusing to glance around and see us, sitting on the
very edges of our chairs, so engrossed that we quite forget a frantic leader. But perhaps
it is just as well we don’t think of others. Say what we will, however, this personal interest
is most pleasing, for what can be more evident of true interest in these songs than the count-
less differences in interpretation of time and tune indulged in by each member of the class
of 1910. But individual research and original theories have their place in singing as well as
in the other natural sciences, so why say more. Singing is our strong point; we do not need
rehearsals; and although 1909 clung to Music Room G until the bitter end, we found it was
no use after one rehearsal in Freshman year. Exizasetu L. TENNEY.

The Endowment Fund

IFE in college has become much more simple, not to say more luxurious, during the
last few months, for a wondrous change has been wrought in the attitude of one’s
friends and acquaintances. On every side there are people anxious, nay, determined,

to serve you, and who think no task too menial or no price too low if you will only pay them
for what they do for you. This sudden activity is all aroused by the fact that by June Ist
the college must have raised an endowment of half a million.

Now, on Sunday mornings, there is no need to hurry into the one or two garments that
used to form your Sabbath attire; a timely order, and your breakfast is brought in to you
on a tray at whatever time the fatigue of a student life, or of Saturday’s dissipation, may have
prompted you to think suitable. Then, after dressing, without any need for hurry—you do
rather resent having to dress yourself in this golden age—you emerge into your study,
knowing that no dreary and soul-destroying washing of the breakfast dishes awaits you. A
clean and lovely array of cups and plates is sitting on your tea-table, washed at the moderate
price of 5 cents by the faithful Edgy. Indeed Edgy and Spry in Pembroke have turned
into machines for washing dishes, and I really believe they derive no inconsiderable amount
of joy and profit from this homely task. While in Denbigh no tea is considered complete
unless Helen Taft and her helpmates linger longingly beside the door, eager to grasp the dirty

Indeed, all the disagreeable tasks are taken from you, for besides washing your dishes,


there are people who will mend your clothes and copy your notes; and should your eye
“in fine frenzy rolling,” as you write at your desk, happen to fall upon a small crawling
creature, the sight of which causes your hair to rise “like quills upon the fretful porcupine,”
need you gird your loins and attack this disturber of the peace with a slipper? Not at all!
In the bathroom this comforting sign is hung, accompanied by a most flattering portrait
of your enemy:

ENDOWMENT FUND

CENTIPEDEs & ANTS
& Mice
KILLED
Price List.
Gemtspedes. 2... uaa. . A cent-a-piece
UMN Viale «oa «66 wi SAO bin o's'a! 5c per 100
WM gis ce sc SEMEN Gs eo cals 10¢ apiece
S. C. ALLINSON,
J. B. Kerr.

What is easier than to hunt up one of these brave spirits and bring them back to crush
the interloper. Of course, as Miss May, one of our English graduates objected, the centi-
pede or ant, or even the mouse, being of an uncomfortably nomadic nature, may not still be

‘on hand for the slaughter, but, after all, you have rid yourself of the nuisance in either case.
And how ridiculously cheap!

Not only can you find servants and brave soldiers among your friends, but poets. No
more need to burn the midnight oil or tear the sparse hair in frantic effort, for the college
needs an endowment, and poets spring to do her service. Amy and Delano gush forth poetry

83
as a soda-water fountain gushes forth soft drinks of divers flavours, and, like the said foun-
tain, they are always on tap and always cheap. But let them speak for themselves:

Tur Onty Way or ConTRIBUTING TO THE CHOOSE YOUR OWN METRE

EnpowMEnT Funp Iambic and Trochaic, Alcaic and Sapphic,
Be Immortalised Cheap Choleaiambic and Hendecasyllabic
VERSE Price List
Written for Every Occasion in Life, From tee Shakespearian .......... $0.10
POCAPCHED hyo secics ss es 15
MaTRICULATION Rallede } ces os cs $0.03 apiece, 2 for $0.05
To MON, OE VARI 6s cease eens 25
GRADUATION OMe a eves d dawns gee ees wean .50
IN

(Other prices on application)

Eric, Lyric or Dipactic Form
WORK DONE QUICKLY, CHEAPLY & WELL
Sonnets, Ballads, Odes and Triolets Strictly confidential, and no questions asked
Elegies and Eulogies A veces

Epigrams and E pithalamions C. DeLano

As an example of what these talented ladies can do, I will quote a poem they wrote
for a client on the occasion of the receiving of a bunch of flowers:

“When first I saw your fair boquet,
Ah, Lucie,
My thoughts to you did fondly stray,
That you, upon that fair spring day,
Should send me flowers as sweet as hay,
And juicy!”

Is more needed to convince us of the literary sense of style possessed by these wooers
of the muse?

Not only in Pembroke, but in every hall, the same activity is displayed. In Rock a
Freshman calls people at any hour, beginning at half-past five every morning. In Denbigh
at eleven o’clock every day and on Tuesday evenings the Sophomores serve the college with

84










a milk lunch fit for the gods. Elmer gives swimming lessons; countless people run
errands; everybody is eager to serve everybody else for a consideration. The new Lost and
Found Bureau, which has taken up its place in the Suffrage Library, is one of the most
useful money-making concerns in college. It was originally Monte’s idea, and it brings in
about $1.50 a day. Monte’s sleuths are seen everywhere on the campus, and with a little
more persistence, the Lost and Found—particularly, Found—Bureau might easily make
$5.00 a day.

Then, of course, there is May Day, but that is not in my power or province to describe.
Taking into account the fact that the Alumnae and President Thomas show as much spirit
and enthusiasm as the undergraduates, who can doubt that we shall have the endowment

fund by commencement. Mary Wauiratt, WortHIncTon.

The Tea house; or, Dver the Wiap to the Votive Shrine

Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?

SceNE—The Tea House.

Time—Any day towards 6 P. M.

Dramatis PrrsonaE—Half the college, any half; 1912 East and West in athletic
clothes, with two or three tables placed together, all in various stages of a full meal, all
ordering more between bites, and all playfully charging the whole to Spry, who is unavoid-
ably absent. In each room one or two tables upon which the hush of death has fallen—-
no, they are not sick. See, they consume generous orders of baked beans and English
muffins. ‘Then, have they quarreled? you ask. Ah, by no means. The fact is, some of
the underclassmen have brought their Senior friends—those handsome ladies in satin and
evening wraps—to supper with them. Hence the too visible signs of embarrassment. (I
mean the underclassmen are embarrassed, not the Seniors.) Well, even Billy and Betty
used to be embarrassed, but now they are grown so brazen that whenever, from any point
on the campus, they see Jean or Polly entering West door, they exclaim: “Oh, there, let’s
run home and see if they’re going to ask us to the tea house!” And with all speed they
swoop down upon their respective apartments and search their desks for hidden billet doux
(and Betty do—s).

So much for dramatis personae.
Notice Helen Jurist and Mrs. Pfeiffer are absent after 4 P. M., after which hour no
breakfasts are served,

Door opens and new party arrives.

Aut TocEeTHER—Is there anything special tonight?

Miss Curistry—No, nothing special.

Ait—Oh-h! (pondering an order blank) “Any creamed chicken?”

Miss C.—No.

InquirER—Oyster soup?

Miss C.—No, nothing special.

Inquirer—Nothing at all?

Miss C.—NO.

Ine.—What kinds of soup?

Miss C.—Tomato.

Inq.—Never eat tomato. Any egg salad?

Miss C.—NO NOTHING SPECIAL!!

Inq.. (humbly )—Oh—have you any eggs?

Miss C.—Yes, of course; there’s always eggs.

Inq. (bitterly) —Ah, quite true! By the way, why don’t we give the eggs to the poor?
We always have them too. They seem made for each other.

All write busily.

Rounp-Facep Optimist (I don’t mean you, Billy; you’re at a table)—I’ll have—let’s
see: First, puffed rice; then a shredded wheat biscuit; then milk-toast, and English muffins,
and chocolate, and maple sundae with—what kinds of cake have you?

Lean Cynic—Why not a layer of cotton wadding?

Att—Miss Christy, can we have these right away?

Miss C. (calmly)—There are five orders before you.

Att—Oh, well. (They find a table, and begin to talk about Doctor Clark, or garden
party hats, or some other light topic.) Every time the maid appears, the two rooms rise
in a body and exclaim, “That’s ours!” As she disappears they sit down with the same
unanimity, and observe, menacingly, under breath: “Well, ours is next.”

Thus it takes only an hour and three-quarters to get a shirred egg on these nights of
blocked traffic—and as the Tea House is run for the benefit of the Students’ Building, we
all feel justified in running over here on our particularly busy nights in order to save ourselves
the annoying delay between courses to which our Hall table d’hote is so subject.

86 RutH GEoRGE.






SS Ss * ee =

Class Ceas

VER since we first knew that there existed such a function as a Senior Tea, we have
held them in a special variety of awe. We are now speaking editorially, and there
may be those who have not shared in this timid feeling of ours. A Senior class tea

was the only tea to which there was no possible chance of access. One might, by clever boot-
licking or by mere nerve, appear at a Philos or Science club tea uninvited. Even an
English club tea we have seen broken in upon by the simple method of standing in the
door and giggling in a silly fashion until asked to enter by a wrathy hostess. But a Senior
teal! ‘There one absolutely could not enter. One was shut out as a poor sinner from Para-
dise, and no amount of hanging around the door or clinging to the coat-tails of better souls
could get one in.

Now that Senior teas have become a familiar affair, this awed respect has vanished.
We saunter in, in evening gown or gym suit, as luck may have it, and, finding the most
comfortable chair—already occupied or not—we settle ourselves for a delightful time of
luscious food and gossip.

One feature, to our prejudiced mind the chief feature of these teas, is the class cup.
The wearisome hours of labour which the cup-choosing committee endured; the nightmare of
adorning teacups with*dragon flies in graceful patterns; the worse one of persuading your
friends that your design was one of incomparable beauty, all go to make a halo around
those teacups which a year of weekly meetings has not entirely destroyed. Our final choice,
everyone must admit, is beyond all criticism, and we do homage to Bessie Cox, who invented
it, and still survived.

As a class tea revolves chiefly around the refreshments, they should not be left unmen-
tioned. But most of us have done ample justice to them already, and a longer notice might
involve mention, alas, of those unwilling little parties beforehand, when we struggled to get
ready those provisions. After all, though, it is almost worth while to have been a Senior
if only to have had the privilege of enjoying class teas, and we say good-bye to them with
great reluctance. CHARLOTTE V. SIMONDS.
Statistical Monsense

ROM the minute I heard the words, “a Bryn Mawr census,” I had a terrible forebod-

ing, which is now to take form in our class book.

“A Bryn Mawr census’—the words were greeted with mingled grunts of approval
and displeasure. But the voice continued: “There are three reasons why we should take
a census of the college: First, because it is the year of the United States census; secondly,
because it is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the college; and, thirdly, because * * *,”
The words I but dimly remember, as the excitement of the situation was arousing me, but
the gist of them was that the census would be good for the activity of our souls.

As can well be imagined, no one had any good reasons on the opposite side, and then
there was the thought that we would not have to do any private reading. As that dawned
on them, the Social Research class began to sit up and take notice. I must tell you that the
greatest number in that brilliant class are Seniors, including Miss Biddle in its select circle.
I mention Miss Biddle as she was one of the foremost ones in desiring to——. But I
am running ahead of myself.

Imagine a dull, weary day, which became brilliant with flashes of lightning when Miss
Parris told us that we should plan this hour what questions were to be asked in the census.
And here is where Miss Biddle comes in. There was absolutely nothing that she did not
wish to know, from the hour of their birth to the denominational affiliation—and this last
word has been made to cover a multitude of sins—of their third cousins. Suggestions flew.
“We must know how much is spent on puffs,” said one; “and how many wish to get married,”
said another; “and how many had governesses intermittently in their chequered careers,”
volunteered a third.

We scarcely recognized our own handiwork in the official printed cards, that were at last
offered to us to spread over the halls like the yellow plague.

“How should I know how old I am, or what I believe in,” were remarks often made
to the census-takers. “Well, I suppose I better put down two and a half brothers,” said
another, “though I can’t see what use my half-brother will be to you.” ‘To enumerate the
illuminating remarks made about race, creed, and colour would be to expose to the cynical
laugh of scoffers the ponderous, hence unwieldy, knowledge which Bryn Mawr students
have of their own intimate affairs.

88



Blan ete OC Real ior ee ii wns ag st iS heet earn Ute Laasas = ee ee












Wearily, not to say warily, we collected the cards from the poor moths, who fluttered in
vain when face to face with the point that the cards had to be finished now—which meant
immediately, and not next week. But if you could see the stack of yellow cards, labelled
Graduate, 1910, 1911, 1912 and 1913, with their convict numbers—by which we lose all
identity—you would realize what a monument we are leaving the college; and a glimpse into
the edifying remarks would make you feel doubly the importance of our great task.

We can all appreciate the sentiment which led a girl to put down her mother’s occupation
as minister’s wife, but we follow a little more slowly the train of thought which led another
to put her sister’s occupation as “wife and mother.” We find ourselves lost in the medical
realm when we come face to face with one student who put her denominational affiliation as
allopathic. But again we feel solid ground beneath our feet when we meet the girl who put
her sister’s conjugal estate as “hopeful,” and we praise the student who put for the conjugal
estate of her married sisters “good,” and left a severe blank for those who are single. It
seems scarcely possible, yet the census card says it—hence we must take it for a truth—that
one in our midst dresses on “one solitary dollar” a year. Our modesty almost blushes.
Such extravagance seems superfluous. It is not more to be wondered at than at the many
girls who spend only one to two hours a week on recreation. Perhaps the two are not
incompatible.

I had no idea that the college 1 was so musical; almost everyone has some suggestions to
make on the subject. I cannot resist mentioning two of these, which show what a tre-
mendous growth takes place in the four years of college life. A Freshman offers as an
improvement: “Having pianos somewhere open to students at any time.” Now hear the
wisdom of the Senior: “Have pianos in the halls, to be opened during certain hours, and for
the use of which students might be authorized by some such system as we use in the swim-

ming-pool.” ‘The only difficulty here would be in finding a satisfactory judge, which would
be the same in the case of the girl who a friends of good moral character only to be
permitted to sleep in the halls.

Perhaps it would not be an unfitting cles for the Bryn Mawr census to end with the
most illuminating of all the changes desired, which is: “To keep Taylor clock as brilliant
by night as by day, so that by its hands we can always tell which way the wind is blowing.”

JEANNE B. Kerr.

RY
A Low Buildings Tea

(With Apologies to 1909 and also to Mr. Kipling)

*TUbat is felicia screaming for?” “Cibo could have moved mp new suede
Che frightened freshman cried. shoes?

‘“‘@ note bas come, a note bas come,” Che freshman small complained.
Ffelicia’s chum replied. * Felicia thought thep matched ber suit,”’

“(Cbat makes ber Dash off Down the ball? ae ES tu Gees ak eis:
3s someone burt or Dead? ”’

9 ting?—myp pendant necklace, too?”
Oe eee eee ‘““@be had to bave some ornaments;

Selicia’s roommate said. , sbe only took a few.
** for she’s going to Low Buildings, for she’s going to Low Buildings,

Sbe’s invited Down to tea. Just get on to ber grand air?

Che other English sharks are glum; Sbe is wearing Sfannp’s velvet hat
Felicia’s wild with glee. and Susan’s braid of hair.

8e8, she bas a quis to-morrow, Db, we took the card from off ber Door
But she'll have to flunk, J see; Gnd scrubbed it clean with care

For she'll go to tea, at all cost, at Low Qgnd sbe’s going off in splendour to Low

Buildings.” Builvings.”’

** TGibat is that long-drawwn wail of woe?
Some soul oppressed bp fate?”
** felicia must have seen the clock,
Sbe’s half an hour late.”
**TGbat moves so swift across the sun,
Chere on the far pillsive?”
** Chat’s our Felicia on the run,”
Felicia’s chum replied.
** fot she’s going to Low Buildings,
Sbe is dashing down the walk;
5 bope she gets per breath again,
Gnd manages to talk,
For J read all ‘Book Mews’ to ber

TGbile she cleaned her gloves witb
chalk ;

Gnd she’s gone to see Wiss Crandall at
Low Buildings.’ Katharine Zidvell.




Track

UR career in track, which might better have been left uncareered, perhaps, may be
divided into two stages—F reshman year and the rest.

That first year we were inspired with the true, fervid Freshman zeal to win every-
thing in sight, and with that aim before us, we did manage to come off quite creditably.
This was due chiefly to Clara McKenney and Frances Jackson, who, with some assistance
from our energetic captain, Kate Rotan, saved us from the disgrace that followed in years
to come.

Of that rest, the sad, melancholy, dismal rest, the less said the better. Only the prod-
ding of our editor can force the tale from my unwilling pen. The statistics are given else-
where in this book, I regret to state, for there are statistics and statistics, and these are of
the ought-to-be-suppressed variety.

Sophomore year Janet Howell, as captain, laboured to bring us into shape, but even her
entreaties and threats could not make us win that meet, and preferring to do badly if we
could not be the best, we gracefully slid into third place.

The next martyr to the cause was Katherine Kelley, who, lacking the size of Janet, could
not intimidate as many unwilling recruits, and had to depend solely on cajoling speeches and
bribes. In spite of all her efforts, the final result was deplorable. As each class entered
the gym, loud cheers broke out from the faithful supporters in the gallery, but 1910 looked in
vain for something to cheer. Finally they were reduced to searching with a telescope. There
against the wall, completely concealed by a balancing-bar, were the terrified forms of K.
Kelley, M. Ashley and K. Rotan. Other more timid spirits were there also, we discovered
later, but for the moment they were safely hidden in a crack in the floor. Mabel Ashley,
manager, entered no events, but her conscientious devotion to duty drove her in; and there
she sat, smiling in a sickly fashion and clutching her friends to keep her anxious legs from
carrying her out. We take off our hats even our best garden-party hats, to her. For Kate
we have no adequate words. Amid the audible gasps from the gallery, she was seen to enter
sixteen events at once, at the same time giving a phonographic account of her efforts, inter-

91
rupted by appeals to Miss Applebee to “please wait a minute until I finish this one skip
and try the fourteen-broad-jumps, and the slide-on-your-ear.”

Of Senior year I cannot speak without weeping. Kate, Janet and Katherine became
my heroes, and I shuddered to think of what they had gone through. My amiable good
nature and bulky size (for which something tells me I was elected) vanished amazingly.
My days were spent exhorting, pleading, threatening; my evenings in sadly watching
Mary Ag leaping like a young gazelle, or Jane Smith hurling the shot almost a foot away.
Kirky deserves a gold medal, for she appeared every evening and went through every event
with a nonchalance that calmed my nervous spirit and made me believe the individual cup was
surely hers. Others whom I could bribe to stay in battle appeared from time to time, only
to vanish after a terrified look at the hordes of 1913, who held nightly class meetings around
the apparatus. Before the winter was over I was a complete wreck and had lost almost
two pounds; and the doctors, fearing for my mind, ordered me to resign, so the brave
Kirklet took my place. *

The two meets themselves may better be omitted. Our numbers were larger than the
previous year, but our successes fewer. Kirk and Kate were our stars, but for the most
part we slumbered peacefully on each other’s shoulders, while 1911 and 1913 flung themselves
about with a lamentable zeal for earthly glory. We rejoice to see that 1912, like us, dis-
dained such silly sports.

No account of track is complete without mention of the tug-of-war, and this, our “chef
d’oeuvre,” our “piéce de resistance,” deserves the final place of honour. With Lordy sit-
ting heavily at the end, Jane, Ros, Pat and others of the same construction dotted along at
intervals, who could resist us? Of our defeat in Senior year I say nothing—that was acci-
dent. The glory of other tugs spreads over it gently and blots it out, and we may com-
placently sit back and comfort ourselves with the thought that individually we may have been
poor, but for team work, “Laudamus suprema, Bryn Mawr, 1910.”

CHARLOTTE V. SIMONDS.

92

ni Uhiipcap cai ceiiras ekac nani ees wa hag see Nas a aaah ag aot CSE areal ae
Pie WA eo al enka a








Glee Club Concert

S a member of 1910, I can scarcely be expected to give an unprejudiced account of the
Glee Club Concert, which took place May 2, 1910. 1910 is proverbial for the way
it views its own accomplishments, and I am no exception to the rule.

The concert was early on account of May Day. ‘This, owing to the fact that we had
not practiced the songs until we were tired of them, made the singing more spontaneous.
The faculty (much to their annoyance, I feel sure) were for the most part prevented from
being present, by a party which Dr. Clark gave on that evening. I suspect them, however,
of lurking outside the gym at the last rehearsal, for Dr. Jessen was heard to remark that
our pronunciation of German was unusually distinct and good. Betty, looking most
fascinating, in a gown which was as lovely in front as it was in the back (not always the
case on such occasions), led with much spirit and a skill for which Mr. Miller afterwards
gave her well-deserved praise.

_ The Mandolin Club, I heard many people say, was beatae than it had been for years.
Mr. Eno, prowling behind the scenes, could not have asked for a better result than Agnes
Irwin achieved. Jeanette Allen performed on the drum, and many other unnameable
instruments in quick succession, and called forth the usual interest. The President was an
appreciative member of a very enthusiastic audience. The consensus of opinion seemed to
be that the concert was unusually good, and I am sure 1910 enjoyed it more than any of the
others during its college career. Mase. Pierce ASHLEY.

The Fellowship Dinner

INETEEN-TEN’S Fellowship Dinner, in honour of our European Fellow, Nellie
N Bley, was well attended by the Faculty and an appreciative audience of under-
graduates. As we entered the dining-room Mary Wesner, in imitation of one of

Miss King’s Renaissance art classes, pointed out the varied details of the procession. The
allegorical figures symbolizing Hebraism and Hellenism—Dr. Barton and Dr. Clark—
were particularly interesting. “Pat” Murphy was a very amusing toast-mistress, and in
her rdle of President Thomas was assisted by Daddy Warren and Miss Maddison. The
Faculty, especially Dr. Barnes and Miss Daly, were greatly interested and very generous
in their offers of wearing apparel. A few of the most realistic “make-ups” were those of
Miriam Hedges as Miss Parris, Jeanne Kerr as Dr. Jessen, and Georgina Biddle as Dr.
de Laguna. Dr. de Laguna was unfortunately quite late in arriving, owing to the illness
of little Spinoza.

A very interesting “take-off” of an English Reader’s Tea, written mainly by Ruth
George, was given. The conversation, of course, beggared description, and Miss Hoyt and
Dr. Clark were especially brilliant. Mary Wesner accomplished the very difficult feat
of being alternately Miss Donnelly and Miss King. The presence of Miss Fullerton’s
fiancé added a touch of romance. The May-pole dance gave some members of the Faculty
a greatly desired opportunity to take part in May Day. Their efforts were strenuous, and
the dance ended in an effective tableau. The mock Orals, even when given as they ought
to be, sent a thrill of terror to the hearts of 1911. Margaret Shearer gave one of Miss
Jackson’s lectures on Shakespeare to her class—a, But, above all, our Fellowship Dinner
should be memorable not only to 1910, but to the lower classes also, because it was the first
college function in which the Gargoyle Man had a part. Frances STORER.

The Gentle Art of Map-Dap Making
A Comedy (?) in Four Acts
ACT I

Scene: Mr. King’s classroom. Time: January 28, 1910.

Committee assembled.

CHammMAN—We have a few minutes before Mr. King and Miss Daly arrive. We must
think whom we want for every position, so they can’t force us to take their candidates.

1911 A.—Of course. They don’t know the capabilities of any of the girls. Just think
of the merry men Mr. King suggested!

1912 A.—You know he has never seen us act, and we have some very good people.

1911 B.—We don’t any of us know what the Freshmen can do, but I have an idea
C. can act.

1910 B.—What makes you think so?
1911 B.—I don’t know. I heard her learning a Horace ode, and she said it awfully
well. All her friends say she can act.

94






Cuair.—We can put her down as a possible Fool or Titania. Now, please get people
for the Sword Play, and twelve good-lookers with legs that can dance, and sixty May poles
and twenty-eight small chimney sweeps. We can pick out the twelve best legs for cupids.
Do let us have nice tall merry men, and some of them have got to sing.

(This having been accomplished in short time.)

1911 B.—Let us go over the finding list, and see if we have left out anyone. (reads) A.

1912 A.—F lower.

1911 B.—(reads) B.

1910 B.—Worm.

1911 B.—(reads) C.

1911 A.—Priest.

1911 B.—(reads) D.

1910 B.—She is a milkmaid.

1912 A.—No; don’t you remember, we changed her with X when X was made a Herald
because Y had a voice.

1911 B.—So we did. (reads) E.

1910 B.—Who on earth is she? I never heard of her.

1911 A.—She’s the fat little grad in Radnor. Croud?

1910 A.—Yes.

1911 B.—(reads) F. (ete.—412 names.)

Cuamman—We simply must keep Mr. King from putting all those sad people in the
best parts. There are lots of girls in our class that can do things.

1911 A.—Yes, and in ours. Don’t you know how splendid M. was in the hall show
as the villain?

Cuarr.—Well, be firm, and don’t give in.

(Enter Mr. King and Miss Daly.)

Cuorus—Good evening. We have saved you all the bother of casting the plays and
choruses. We shall read you what we have decided.

ACT II
Scene: Miss Daly’s office. Time: T'wo weeks before May Day.

(Enter Chairman, breathlessly.)
Miss Daty (sweetly)—You are just the person I wanted to see. Now hold on to
something while I tell you the news. Three flowers have given out because they can’t

95
rehearse on Saturday. One cupid says she won’t wear a blond wig. The hobby-horse has
broken her foot, and the fool has measles. None of the May poles are full, and Mr. Car-
penter says all the dances are hopeless.

(Enter a Freshman. )

Fresu.—Are you ready to try on my costume, Miss Daly?

Miss D.—Yes, come right in. Here it is. Isn’t it pretty? This purple hood on the
yellow dress with the red overskirt and blue stockings is one of the nicest costumes in May
Day. You must make your own shoes, and I shall order you a grey bald wig and a comedy
make-up.

Fresu. (tearfully) —But I want to look pretty, and yellow is horribly unbecoming.

Miss D.—No one will recognize you in this, and it will be such a nice surprise for your
family. That will do. Good-bye.

(Exit Freshman.)

Miss D.—AIl those poor children want to be milkmaids in flowered pink, but somebody
has to wear the ugly costumes. Now, will you please fill in all these vacant places, and see
Mr. Foley about the stage and order your properties. Mr. King wants to change all the
casting around; he says six of the plays are very poor. But I think it’s rather late.

ACT Ii
Scene: The Gym balcony. Time: One week before May Day.

Ist STUDENT—What is on tonight?

2np StupeENT—Mr. King is having dress rehearsals of everything. Let’s stay?

3rp StupENT—Well, I only hope they get somewhere. Last night he spent two hours
and a half on three lines of Bottom. Poor Pat was a nervous wreck, and Titania went sound
asleep.

2np StupeNt—He has ordered the halls to be kept open, and is going to keep every-
body until he is through tonight!

(Enter Mr. King below.)

Mr. K.—Is Miss X here? (Frantic endeavours finally produce Miss X.) Oh! I just
wanted to tell you that you must wake up. I can’t keep on rehearsing you all the time. I
go without my luncheon, and I rush up here after a vile dinner. If I could have a bird and
quart of champagne I might stand it. Of course, I get nothing for all the extra time I
spend, etc., ad infinitum.






(XX, quite limp, departs. )

Mr. Kine—Novw, if you are ready, we will begin with the Sword Play.

(The Fool speaks two words.)

Mr. K. (interrupting)—No; a little more this way (performs). Or you might do it
like this (performs). Or I should do this (performs). You see, I can do it a hundred dif-
ferent ways.

(Meanwhile the other casts are growing momentarily crosser. About 1.80.)

Stace Mer. or Sworp PLay—We really must stop now, Mr. King.

Mr. K.—Yes, so we must. We have not done very much, but it’s better to perfect each
part as you go along. I know you hate to stay here, but it is most important to watch me.
You must all rehearse six or eight hours a day out of doors, and don’t forget your final
consonants.

ACT IV
Scene: Behind the screen of any play. Time: Mayday, 5.30 P. M.

1st SrupENt—There she goes dying again. It seems to me I shall go mad if I have
to hear that again.

2nD—I’m so sick of saying those silly three lines, and my sandals won’t stay on, and the
make-up is trickling down my face, and I’m starving.

3rp—The second audience was the best. Did you hear that sweet man laughing at all
my jokes? And somebody told my mother that our play was the best by far. I wonder
what Miss Thomas will say in Chapel.

Stace Manacer (frantically creeping from behind a bush)—Hurry up! Your cue
is coming. And don’t forget to turn your face to the audience, and keep your pose, and
sHout. Go on, you’re doing splendidly. Did you hear that Dr. L. has been to six per-
formances of our play! Hasn't it been fine.

Ist SrupeEnt—Yes, but how glad I am that it comes only once in a lifetime.

Esa DENISON.

FINIS
Basket Ball

F this had to have a title beside just Basket Ball, it certainly should be Just One More,

- or How we did it. For it is only of this year that I am going to speak, since we may

consider the failures and disappointments of other seasons as mere preparation for this

our last season, when we were unbeaten. Just One More is peculiarly appropriate to this

Basket Ball season, as it was just one more in each game with 1911 which won us the
championship. |

On the day of our last game with 1911, one of them said to me: “Do let us win one
game, so that our banner can stay out longer and get to look like 1910’s.” But losing that
game would have made us feel like the Irishman whose wife lay dying.

“Pat,” she said, “will you promise to do just one thing for me?”

“What is it?’ said Pat.

“On the day of my funeral, please ride in the carriage with my mother, your mother-
in-law.”

Pat was silent for a few moments, and then said:

“All right, but it will spoil the day for me.”

Now, since this is a 1910 book, let us praise 1910 a little, and let the other classes be
generous. No one realises better than 1910 how well we have done in athletics this year—
hockey, swimming, and now basket ball. A Freshman said to me after the last game: “It
seems too bad that some other class can’t have their banner out some time—you get every-
thing.” That reminds me of the Southern Mountaineer. A stranger came along one day
and asked for supper. ‘The mountaineer gave him the best he had—corn bread and pork.
The stranger ate and ate, and finally the host began to get worried, thinking of his larder,
and at last said:

“Well, stranger, there’s plenty more corn bread and plenty more pork if you’re hun-
gry, but I’m afraid you'll bust.”

But with all our honours, we haven’t busted. We did have a fine team in spite of the
fact that the forwards once in a while did miss a goal, and the ball did hit Kate in the back
as she pursued her forward down the field, and the centres tried to play forward, centre and
guard all at the same time, to the great annoyance of the rest of the team.

But we managed to shine, and we can say, like the small boy who was asked about the
baseball team he was on:

“It’s a fine team, and, what’s more, we always win!” Frances H. Hearne.

98








Puntor-Sentor Supper

O feel the proper emotion at the proper moment is an accomplishment which one is apt
to outgrow with Freshman year. By the end of Sophomore year one’s emotional
gamut has been run so many times over that one can ring few new changes upon

it, and by Senior year to giggle at a farewell ceremony or to be moody at an inter-class picnic
_ has acquired more or less cachet. For the most part, of course, such procedure is left to
choice spirits—like Grace Branham—who can do it with distinction, while the body of the
class goes through the motions, at least, that are time-honoured and tradition-hallowed. But
on the occasion of 1911’s Junior-Senior Supper to us, I think the whole Senior Class felt a
distinct disinclination to the customary lugubrious solemnity, a distinct desire to signalise this
out last party with 1911 by laughter and merry-making, rather than by the tears of present or
anticipatory woe.

Fortunately for our state of mind, the exigencies of May Day year had barred the
traditional heavy tragedy, and 1911 had been forced to substitute a form of entertainment
more quickly and easily arranged. And what height of wisdom and depth of insight they
showed in this substitution! In their “prophetic drama,” entitled Toward the Dawn, or
Doing Our Civic Duty, we were permitted to see ourselves not, we fear, as others see us, but
as we are wont to see ourselves—beautiful, clever, successful, bourgeoning in the sunshine
of a radiant future. Was it possible to miss Romeo or the Princess Melissande when pre-
sented with this charming vision of 1910? What is Medea’s suffering compared with Mary’s
suffrage or Joffrey Rudd’s passage of the far seas to Mary Ag’s passage of her French
oral? Even 1910’s peculiarities and shortcomings are dear to 1910, and 1911 could give us
only pleasure so long as they adhered closely to the happy subject they had chosen. Their
idea—inspiration, let us call it—was worthy of 1910 itself.

On the whole, we venture to say that there never was and never will be such another
Junior-Senior Supper. The tide of revelry rose high, especially toward the end of the
evening, when the ice cream—two big plates apiece—was served, and when, all too soon, the
festivities drew to a close and the Junior-Senior supper songs were sung, we almost resented
1911’s song—beautiful as it was, and full, we like to believe, of genuine regret and affec-
tion—because it seemed like an unseasonable reminder of our approaching departure, an
unwelcome intrusion upon our merry-making.

And so the happy evening came to an end—an evening, pleasant, like so many others
that we have spent in the last four years—we and 1911—and yet like none other in its
peculiar heightening and intensification of gayety. It was as if, though seeming to forget
it, we realised subconsciously all along that it would be our last, and so had flung ourselves
with all the more abandon into the evening’s festivities; as if we would deceive ourselves by
the tranquillity of things as yet unchanged into thinking that they could never change; as
if, though on the eve of separation, we would avert our faces as long as possible from a

vision of the parted ways. KATHARINE LIDDELL.

Senior Reception to the Faculty

T is characteristic of the way a Class Book is compiled that the article on Senior Recep-
tion to the Faculty should be written by one of the few Seniors who were, as Doctor
Warren would say on Commencement Day, “in absentia” (being the Latin for “has the

measles’’) .

It is also a little characteristic of our Alma Mater that this excellent opportunity of
becoming acquainted with the Faculty takes place on the last Saturday night of Senior
year. Let us trust that the many tender affinities discovered on that occasion remain green
and fresh even unto Commencement Day. But “let that pass,” as Simon Eyre’s wife would
say. As the Faculty weren’t there, what’s the difference when it comes off? Oh, some of
them were there. And poor, tired 1910 was there—1910 having, generally speaking, taken
an exam. in the morning, a picnic luncheon (did I say luncheon?) with 1912 in the after-
noon, decorated the gym roof until dinner time, and themselves from that point on to the
fatal hour, were reduced to the despair of an old gentleman of my acquaintance who groaned
that he didn’t care whether he lived cr died—he’d about as lief live.

Well, weary or not, we managed to get an adequate sprinkling of furniture conveyed
to the gym roof. I saw, with none other than my own eyes, Jane Smith assisting a fair-
sized parlour-suite across the campus with easy grace. One of her legion of admirers
discerned her in the distance just as Jane, weary of kicking the pillows before her, was
making a transfer of some sort, and came to her assistance. As I wasn’t helping, I sneaked
in thoughtfully, as one does when one isn’t helping, and wondered to myself if Jane really
could be as tired as I was. Inside I heard Kate coming down the hall and ealling back
messages and directions for the length of two corridors to the extremities of West. She

100








stopped and telephoned a brief summary of the day to Cecil, then passed out the front door.
Well, I knew she was tireder than I was, so, in sheer self-reproach, I sought out my kimona
and went to bed—the only excuse which official Bryn Mawr recognises.

The event itself afforded high entertainment to such of the Seniors as took advantage of
the opportunity to become acquainted with themselves—a laudable purpose, after all, though
it is doubtful whether 1910 would have set apart the busiest hours of the busiest week of the
year to that exclusive end had it known. And, as I say, several of the Faculty did come.
Doctor Warren was there, so his lovers were consoled—though I understand he would fain
have tarried until even Kate and Mary fell by the wayside. And Doctor Jessen was there,
and was heard to murmur, as, wrapped in his high Dutch mantle, he strode the roof, that if
you walked up and down you could stand it, meaning, of course, the weather, and not the
society.

Perhaps I give the occasion a wrong tone, which comes of my not being there, but my
impression of this function sums itself up in the Wordsworthian sentiment, voiced by Mr.
Gilbert in his touching account of the self-sacrifice of the relatives of Captain Reece, “It

was their duty, and they did.” Rutru Grorce.

Sentor Class Supper

ATHER less imposing than the 1918 Freshman Parade, certainly less apprehensive
than our own Freshman procession, almost as unconcerned, indeed, as if we were
making breakfast in our jumpers, 1910 entered upon the most significant social func- _

tion of Senior year. We had been warned that this event would offer the gamut of human
emotions. ‘Those who had tears had been well advised to prepare to get at one. But, for
perversity or for weariness, 1910 had seemed to take no steps to conjure up the proper
frame of mind. We had eaten our roast beef and coffee jelly at 6.30 as if we anticipated
the seven lean years; we had sung on the steps as light-heartedly as the grieved and
reproachful countenances of our leaders would allow; and finally, at about 8.40, had repaired
to our rooms to finish our toasts and put on our dresses (not made for the occasion, as in
earlier days). Then for the last time we passed back the note for “the Sophs are out this
evening,” and, as I have said, nonchalantly, gently jovial, and as unpretentious as our Fresh-
men’s poor relations, we climbed the stairs and entered the Pembroke dining-room, and the

doors were closed!
101]
So they must remain; 1910 will not forget; no one else was ever meant to know—
except for her own class. I never before suspected that toasts were materially different
from funeral orations. But what a night!

I can see everyone in the dining-room in my mind’s eye. Jane, pink and comfortable,
hanging to the back of her chair, and laughing at her own Irish jokes; Charlotte cheerfully
warbling a line of every song we had in college, amidst our enraptured shrieks; Dorothy
Ashton reading the funniest toast of the evening as if it were a death warrant—lacking only
the tan shoe polish of her favourite rdle; lovely Elsa and Madeleine—I shall always feel as
if I had been good-looking myself; and Ros, smiling the pleased smile of a five-year-old
when she saw we were crazy about her—was there ever such an adorable fool? Oh, 1910
must go the way of all the earth; but I am glad that I for one was within those closed doors
when the best class in college looked upon itself and knew. We began to know from the
first minute—saw face to face finally when we heard through the open windows 1909 sing-
ing us their Junior-Senior supper song. Then, all subdued, we sang ours to them—and
our parting song, and Kate got up—but this is enough. * *

Out in the clear night, under a black sky cut with stars, we sang at the Sun Dial to
Baby and Frances; then gathered about our little tree, and to each of sixty more Seniors,
before they passed out, was sung—not in very good cheer, but in all sincerity—that haunting
good-bye:

Here’s to you, my jovial friend;
Here’s to you with all my heart.
And now we're in your company,

We'll sing before we part.
Here’s to you, 1910. RutH GEoRGE.

102






president Thomas’s Receptions
Dr, Eight Wore Boung Ladies lease Step Dut of the Dining-room

Y present emotions (with Dr. Leuba’s permission) are somewhat similar to those of
the henpecked Irishman, who, when told that a friend had just hanged himself,
groaned, “Begorra, thin, if there’s anny rope left, bring it in to me.” Still I have

the consolation of knowing that, as my effort is scheduled for the early part of the pro-
gramme, I shall have recovered from my terror in time to enjoy the dessert. In this I am
reminded of the woman, on page 58 of the Irish Joker, whose new mistress told her to come
at ten the next morning. The girl answered, “Faith an’ Oid sooner come at eight, mum;
thin if Oi don’t loike th’ place Oi can lave in toime fer the matinay.”



And now to plunge into the rhyme
That doth enclose my tale:

We’ve entered through the Deanery door
As convicts enter jail.

But though they have no choice of place,
*Tis very plain to see

That we with one accord select
Those nearest chocolate and tea.

I’ve come to like one sofa well,
The one nearest the door,

Where that Ethiopian angel comes
For eight young ladies more.

On every face a genial glow
Appears immediately.

Full forty robbers make a dash
At that “open sesame.”

First I lingered for one moment,
~ I'd been fidgeting for ten.
Eight others less polite than I
Had beat me out again. |
I had ten minutes more to muse
Upon what might have been.

Politeness is not everything
That mother used to say.
I’ve profited by what I’ve seen,
I, too, meet Henry now half way.

T’ve often heard that loud attire
Had much to do with taste,

I’m certain of it now I’ve seen
Four marrons in one waist.

But lest you think that all my toast
Is limited to food,

I turn to other nobler themes,
Less commonplace and crude.

One night when most were deep absorbed
In sober subjects, books and tea,

Miss Garrett thrilled the ranks by, “Carey,
Here is one who once knew three!”

How could we know that she and Elsie
Deep in morphine eaters were,
When vital modern topics
Centred round that other chair!

Though we seemed all gay and cheerful
To an undiscerning sight,

Yet beneath the fear was gnawing,
Taylor may not ring to-night!

Then at last the way was opened,
Henry once more at the door,
Once again a rush of sixty
For the cab that came for four.

To Miss Thomas’s receptions
Let us toast them long and well;
For, as the Irish woman put it,
“All is swell that ends up swell.”

DorotHy ASHTON.
Track

FEAR it will come as a disappointment to many of you that you are not being

addressed on this subject of mine by one of our numerous Track Captains. Having

just read Charlotte’s impassioned prose for Class Book, I recognise, as you must, that
no one speaks with such feeling and insight on this subject as Charlie does. Indeed, when I
took up my program this evening and read opposite Charlotte’s name the words, “Our
Howling Success,” I said to myself, “Why, they have given Charlotte “T'rack’ after all!”
But no, I see now that Our Howling Success describes not only our Singing and Track, but
just anything that 1910 happens to be doing, and is a eulogium quite inadequate to the
differentiation of any particular one of our accomplishments (I trust you all are able to
keep up with my vocabulary—the dregs of a matric. exam. I took this A. M. in Eng.
Comp.). As I was about to say, there are so many subjects that Charlotte is qualified to
speak on—that’s because she’s an all-round girl—while for me there’s almost nothing that
I’m cut out for except Track—and Foot Ball. So if you'll forgive me, I'll just try to take
Billy’s place. This reminds me of a story—and, by the way, I’m sorry to say, I was obliged
to cull all my jokes this afternoon from the current numbers of the magazines, so I'll just
ask whoever is sitting beside Cabbie kindly to have an eye on her and keep her from antici-
pating my point with any noisy demonstration; and I will say right here that I could have
had less common and time-worn jokes but for the mercenary secretiveness of our honoured
Toastmistress. Jane had four volumes this afternoon, entitled, The Dinner Speaker's Com-
plete Library of Refined Jokes, Hitherto Unpublished, and refused to lend me a single
refined, unpublished joke. (She boasts she has eleven speeches to make in two days, besides
keeping up her usual standard of witty repartee.) If she’s going to retail all four books,
I’d like to know when we’re going to get our tree planted. But, of course, I don’t care.
I’ve got lots of jokes. The question is how to get them in.

Well, as I was going to say, when I so recklessly relinquished my hard-won transitional
sentence, my taking Charlotte’s place reminds me of a young teacher who had a message
from a college president, saying that their professor of English had to go to the hospital
to be operated on for appendicitis, adding, “Can you come and take his place.” You can
hardly blame the young man for sending back word promptly, “Not on your life. I need
my appendix.”

Well, about Track (in these speeches, I believe it’s convention to refer at intervals to
one’s subject, is it not?)—1910 Track reminds me of the story of a man in a restaurant

104






trying to eat his soup. (Renew your vigilance, Susanne; this is out of June Harper’s.)
Finally he spoke to the waiter and said, “What kind of soup is this?’ The servant said,
“Mock turtle, sir.”

“Mock turtle, is it? Um-m, well, will you kindly let the turtle wade through it once
more?”

Now, I think that’s our situation with regard to Track. Kirkie and Kate go down
and wade through it a time or two to give the affair a 1910 suggestion. But, after all, we
do enough for Track by lending it our good name. The extraordinary thing about it is that
we're so extremely nice ourselves that, when we don’t do Track, instead of thinking there’s
something the matter with us, people think there’s something the matter with Track.

Once there was an Irishman on a stréet corner as a funeral procession passed by.
Someone came along and said, “Who’s dead?”

“T don’t know,” the Irishman said; “guess it must be the gentleman in the coffin.”

Now, this is where 1910’s superiority over natural law comes in. We’'re in the coffin,
we must admit, as regards Track—but the joke is that what’s dead is not 1910, but Track!
I call that an achievement. Of course, Miss Applebee doesn’t see it that way, but if we’re
so influential, why we can’t help it, can we?

But I’ve been making a little social research on my own account, and I have convinced
myself that 1910 is not so unsportsmanlike in this department as Miss Applebee seems to
think. I find that if we had credit for all our athletic accomplishment, made in a quiet
way, we should stand very high indeed. So I'll read a few statistics just to show what 1910
does in fields that are highly praiseworthy, even if less conspicuous than the records made in
the “Track Meetings,” as Miss Maddison calls them. Now, I find the following record of
events:

Cotiece Recorp For

Standing high hat—Broken by Héléne Pelletier, height 2 ft. 10 inches. —
This record was previously held by D. Merle-Smith, 1908.
Second place for this event went to Polly Venom, 1912.
Some people accuse Billy of exercising undue influence upon the judges.
Drooping broad hat.
First place, Lillie James.
Second place, Alice Whittemore, on the purple sailor.
Lillie challenges all comers in finals at Garden Party
Neat events.
In the Constant Kick.—Open this year to all comers.
First place was held by Miss Theresa Daly, 1901.
The Cur offered for fast neckties and girdles: goes this year to Hilda Worthington Smith. Hilda
having held this cup now for four years becomes the possessor. This cup was offered by Miss
Orie Latham Hatcher.
Next Event 1s
The dash for breakfast.

First place (modesty forbids my mentioning the name, but the time is $ min., including bath.
Second place, Mary Worthington. Time, 4 min. 30 sec. She says that includes a bath, too.
This dash for breakfast is a record of which 1910 may be justly proud. In the first place, we
play a clean game—baths seldom if ever omitted. In the second place, we are to be congratu-
lated upon our excellent team work—of which demonstrations may be observed any morning
at 8.15, just outside the dining-room door. ‘These demonstrations are free to the public; includ-
ing visiting fathers, brothers, and uncles.

Next Event:
Diet for form.
First place, Charlotte Simonds.
Second place—tie.
Rosalind Romeyn,
Elizabeth Hibben. ™
Record formerly held by Louise Foley, 1908.
In THE
Diet for distance

Tied by Elsa, who Eats Dreadful, and Izette, who yet Is Thin.
Next Evenr.
First place for sleeping-on-her-back—Katharine Liddell.

Second place, Elizabeth Tappan.

It is only fair to add that Rosie Mason, 1911, who rushed Elizabeth for this second place, can
also sleep sitting up.

Now, in closing these statistics, if there’s anything 1910 can’t do better than any other

class, I only want to say it’s not our Vault. Ruts Gerorce.

The prestdent’'s Luncheon

ATE summer. Two members of the Class of 1910 looking over a memory book.
L. “What a frivolous place card! Where under the sun did you get it?”
“Why, that came from Miss Thomas’s Luncheon.”
“Not, really; that gay thing?”
“Yes; don’t you remember?—and we had such good things to eat.”
106




“Oh, I remember that—I never ate so much in my life. Weren’t there a lot of speeches?
It seems to me there were miles of them.”

“That’s because they were all piled up at the end. But there certainly were lots of
them—Kate and Mary—”

“Elsa, Apie—”

“Grace—”

“Jane—”

“Babby—”

“And Miss Thomas.”

“Well, all I can say is that I am glad we left before they start any of those reforms.
Think of having to take physics for entrance as Kate suggested. Wouldn't it be terrible!”

“I wish they would take Mary’s advice, though, and have lab. count for something. I
worked like a dog over there in Dalton.”

“Um-m, I didn’t work so very hard—but perhaps I would if it had counted.”

“Do you remember how scared Babby was beforehand. I don’t see how people make
speeches without knowing what they are going to say. I was so glad I wasn’t a celebrity
and didn’t have to speak.”

“So was I—but didn’t you wish you had worn your garden party dress? I had such
a time borrowing a hat, and then could have worn my own.”

“TI had a borrowed one too; 1911 was mighty useful that day. Didn’t people look
well though! I guess 1910 can be as beautiful as anybody when it wants to.”

“Of course—and then look at how we rushed down and rehearsed for bonfire after-
wards. We certainly can do things well.” ,

“Sh!- You musn’t boast of the class like that. If we were at college, somebody
would have heard that and thought we were cocky.”

“They always do, but we really aren’t a bit cocky—considering.”

“c . . 39
No—considering—we are not. CHARLOTTE V. SIMONDS.

" Wonfire

N the rush of the last days of college, something is happening every minute, and when
| we left the Deanery after Senior Luncheon, there was a general questioning as to what
came next, when suddenly, from over the campus, we heard Elsa’s voice saying,
“Hurry up, people! Get into your hockey skirts and come right down to the lower athletic
field! We're half an hour late now!”
That meant our first and only rehearsal for the bonfire that evening. As usual, the
rehearsal was great fun, as the program had been made out at the last minute and was a
surprise to almost everyone. But the greatest fun of all was the real performance in the
evening. It began with the procession, led by a comb orchestra, and continued by the other
members of 1910 in costume and the other classes carrying their lanterns—even a few
stray 1918 being there to see their Seniors rival their lack of dignity. The huge fire greeted
us as we approached, and put us in the humour of being as silly as possible.

The subject of our pantomime—for that is all it could be from that distance, despite
the plentiful megaphones, through which the actors shouted—was “A 1910 Typical College
Day,” beginning with “Seeing the Comet” (Georgina, with Boggsie as the tail), then
chapel lectures; 1910 at luncheon, grabbing for food; play committees; dancing class; a
hockey game; 1910’s usual success in a track meet, with the breaking of world and college
records; and, finally, a play given by 1910. It was all a roaring farce, enjoyed principally
by us, I must confess. But despite the farcical elements of the evening, there was something
really clever and worth while, or else it wouldn’t have been typical of 1910; and that was the
play which ended the performance. It was a mixture of all the plays given by us in college,
and was based on a suffrage plot. It was too bad that only those very near could hear and
appreciate it, for its authors—is it necessary to mention the names of Grace Branham, Elsa
Denison and Madeleine Edison?—deserved recognition and congratulations.

The serious part of the evening—for there seemed to be something serious about each
festivity that last week—was the handing down of some of our songs to 1912. Besides the
traditional “White Wings” and “Freshmen, Stand by Your Juniors’ Side,” we gave them
“Get a Wiggle On,” “Just One More” (our mascot athletic song), “Self-government,” and
“The Sons of Erechtheus” ; and we were all proud of the way in which they sang them to us
in receiving them. It showed the effect of the training that Julia Haines gave them down
in the woods that afternoon. The last flames of our bonfire were dying down as we left
the field with the crowd of spectators, feeling more subdued and serious than we had on our
arrival. There still remained that night and the next on which to sing on the steps, and we

sang there, surrounded by the lanterns of our underclassmen, till old Taylor rang us home to

bed. IZETTE TABER.

108








College breakfast

T was a good and a happy time for us all, that College Breakfast. Its memory, like to
the memory of a great many other times at Bryn Mawr, will never go fromus. The
natural feeling rising from the presence of the broad day-light, and our lovely friends,

like the heroines in most of the novels nowadays—simply dressed, but, O, so charming!
The good things to eat and to drink! And, above all, the excellent toasts! One can’t pick
out any special ones from among those toasts for special commendation, for they were all
especially good. 1912 seemed to take such keen delight in giving theirs that they were all
the more fascinating, both 1912 and the toasts.

We came all to understand one another better, too, at College Breakfast, both under-
graduates and alumnez. ‘This was the real mark of the success of the breakfast, for cer-
tainly the true aim of any such social institution as College Breakfast is to draw individuals
and classes closer together. Then, when we all understand one another, the world will be all
straight again, and all of the great problems that we are working upon as individuals and
classes will be solved.

But there was a special significance of College Breakfast to the Class of 1910, as there
has been a special significance of College Breakfast to every class. We saw and felt our-
selves surrounded by “our Freshmen,” about to become Juniors—our Freshmen, in a few
months to go back into the midst of college life. At the same time we felt with us the
presence of those enthusiastic alumne, out of the midst of the life of college, in the midst of
life in the world. There stood “our Freshmen” to cheer us as we finished the first lap of
the race set for us to run, and there stood our alumne to give us a cheer as we prepared to
start upon the next lap, lying before us, still enveloped in a certain mystery, at the same time
terrifying and fascinating. Perhaps we didn’t realise what this meant, at the moment. But
we shall look back upon it many times in the future, and realise more clearly as the years pass
by, the meaning of that bright, happy event, tucked into a busy day of Commencement
Week, our College Breakfast. Esme DEEms.

Garden Party

T was on the bright, frosty morning of June first that 1910, after breaking the ice in
its water pitcher, fully awoke to the realisation that it was giving a garden party in
the afternoon.

Of course, in a dim and ghostly sort of way, that party had made the imminence of its
perils felt before—chiefly by vanishing bank accounts and surprisingly increased mail—but —
in the icy dawn of that frozen morning, 1910 felt the cold, clammy hands of Destiny settle
definitely about its heart—whereupon it put on several heavy wraps and set to work. The
snow was shovelled from the walks, and enough of the drifts cleared off Taylor steps to
enable the Glee Club to warble thereon like forgotten birds in the winter migration. Flowers
kept arriving in hot haste, and were immediately set in various snow banks to cool. By
special arrangement with the authorities, each member of the graduating class was allowed
a small stove, about which her guests might cluster in chattering groups, and an extra supply
of throat tablets and flannel bandages was ordered from the infirmary. When the festive
hour finally arrived, the beauty of the scene was enhanced by myriads of blue-nosed maidens,
wreathed about in diaphanous draperies, congealed in various places on the lawn. These
were kept busy assuring the populace that they were “warm as toast” and trying to prevent
anxiously inclined suitors from getting them unbeautiful wraps. There was also a sprink-
ling of wise virgins, who were heard to murmur against the foolishness of their sisters;
these, almost without exception, wore stunning new white polo coats. The guests, not being
in honour bound to form part of the decorations, seemed on the whole not to mind the
elements very much, although hot coffee was found to be a popular form of refreshment, and
people showed a decided preference for energetic sight-seeing rather than the calm joys
of a tete-a-tete under the shade trees of the campus.

But, after all, it was a glorious party, for we all looked angelically beautiful, and we
all loved our flowers and our guests. And, if it did nothing else, Garden Party brought
us a more vivid realisation of a certain beautiful line of Lowell about days in June, for
aeroplanists all tell us that the rarer the atmosphere becomes, the colder it gets—and what,
indeed, could have been rarer? MApELErne Epison.

Commencement Dayp—an amalgamation

F ever I wish I were Alice Whittemore, it’s when I get a college cap on the apex of my
four side combs and attempt to preserve a balance of these through an official parade.

For if ever a piece of headgear looked as if it fitted the human cranium, and belied

its looks, it is the academic mortar board. Add to its usual motor properties the disad-
vantage of its not being pinned, and you have my commencement sensation in a nutshell.


Betty Swift and I, with characteristic naiveté, supposed that the edict against hatpins was
issued to forestall an offensive display of undergraduate hat jewels, so we obediently
stuck our hatpins into the ground beside the cherry tree, like the other Seniors. As it turned
out, all our efforts, i. e., Betty Swift’s and mine, to make ourselves either lovely or expedite
for appearance on the platform were quite uncalled for.

However, we all stood in line in a June breeze some f orty minutes without our hat-
pins—then the automobile arrived. We all shifted consciously before those handsome uni-
forms, and tried to look as if we thought them no prettier than our gym blouses or swim-
ming trunks. Then the President, i. e., the U. S. President (which reminds me of the
Freshman who was heard to remark that Helen Taft had aided in arranging an interview
last spring between the President and Mr. Taft) Mr. Taft, then was conveyed to the recesses
of Taylor—non-residents’ cloak room, I suppose—to don his academic paraphernalia.
Outside we champed our bits. Imagine the consternation in our ranks when the rumour
ran about that the President had “lost his clothes.” Cabbie was particularly annoyed, and
by no means reassured, indeed, by the second rumour that he was “coming anyway.” At
last he turned up, Ruth emerged from the Library basement, and the parade was off.

Once in the Cloister we sang the Star Spangled Banner—as you remember. The
only criticism I should make on that performance was that we might better have selected
that ancient Basket Ball song of 1910 to their Juniors, ending:

Nineteen Ei-eight Bryn Ma-wawr
Nineteen Ei-eight Bryn Ma-wawr
Nineteen Ei-eight Bryn Mawr

which Ros used to prolong indefinitely in her maudlin moods. This we could have made
last without difficulty until the Presidents reached the stairway. But the singing itself was
excellent—no, no, what am I saying? Well, Louise Merrill and Kate and I all said it was
excellent, but see what Betty says:

“But when he did appear (Betty was speaking of the President, not the Gargoyle
Man)—but when he did appear, alas, in citizen’s clothes,” says Betty, “we sang the Star
Spangled Banner; that national anthem must have been started in seven different keys.
There is something particularly thrilling in a national anthem which is sung in so many keys
as to be unrecognizable even to a Bryn Mawr audience. It shows (meaning the singing)
how each one is completely carried away by enthusiasm. When the scream was over (this
is still Betty; you would know it by her bitterness), we started in after those degrees.

111
Daddy Warren’s training had its effect. We none of us forgot to remove our steady caps;
we none of us stalked that diploma; and some of us almost forgot to take the sheepskin
when it was offered us, we were so anxious to remain on the platform. Daddy Warren
gracefully forgot to mention Durothy Nearing and Millicent Pond, but none of ws made
any mistakes, unless perhaps the universal failure to look pleased may be said to be a mistake.
But here again our families leaped once more into the breach, and, in fact, left nothing to
be desired.”

It is probable that the parental interest did not include other than each his own little bird,
except in that one intense moment when the audience turned en masse to see what sort of a
looking Deigo “Katherine Goodale of the Hawaiian Islands” might be. Poor little Phila-
delphia Kirkie whispered to me, “I wish I came from the Congo Free State; I bet I’d get
a rise out of them!”

Well, Betty and I regret that in deference to the advertisers we must deny ourselves the
pleasure of repeating the President’s address in full. Perhaps some of you heard it your-
selves above the roar of mighty canvas and the thunder of your heart-beats, as you sat
there thinking what you should do if President Thomas should call you out and give you
a prize you hadn’t known about. Take leave of us then here in the prime of our glory,
our tassels turned, our sheepskins in our hands. We're glad today that we didn’t die “when

just a baby.” EvizaBetH TENNEY,
RutH GEorGE.

What's Jn a same?

HERE was once a Genius Badly Behaved with an Ever Lively Tongue and A Mar-
vellous Intellect and Vast Knowledge, so, of course, she entered Bryn Mawr in the
class of nineteen hundred and ten. Once in college she wrote home her impressions.

Dear Father,

You would scarcely know your little daughter since she has been in college. So much
are Friends Her Hobby that she is developing a Decidedly Lazy Attitude. There are
many different types in college, sharing one common characteristic—they are Ever Getting
Hungry. Although the food is not all it might be, yet one girl at my table Eats Dread-
fully—in spite of which she still Zs Thin,—and the cry at every meal is Let’s Eat More.

Perhaps of all my friends you would be most surprised at the one we call the Rising
Bell because she E'nchants Every Swain and has Many Admirers Incidentally. She is a

112


Running Conversationalist, Enunciates Before Company and rather Fancies Liquid Song,
therefore we do not wonder that to her charms men seem Constantly Very Susceptible and
that she need only Just Be Kind in order to Keep Men Kneeling and Keep Lover Running.

You cannot imagine a greater contrast than her room-mate. With Hair Wonderfully
Slick and her character Ever Temperate,—save on the question of woman suffrage when
she Moans Daily Women’s Wrongs—with Her Sound Reason she is the antithesis of our
Almost Winsome lassie. She Maintains Excessive Discreetness and is Ever Dutiful and
when she is proctor Coldly Berates Chatterers yet is Ever Willing to do kindness, so that her
friends say she May Join Saints, nevertheless she is Most Practical and Just Takes Hold of
things and would be a Most Excellent Librarian for as Heaven Means Books to her, she
Reads Constantly and is in Languages Vastly Read and has Many Remarkable English
Gifts.

Opposite these two in Merion live another strangely assorted pair. The one, a Mighty
Sweet Kid and Decidedly Cute is an Altogether Uncontrolled Morsel of Bossiness whom
Many People Adore. She Makes Merion Happy by her Everlastingly Hilarious Mood
and by her cheerful face which is Always Delightfully A-grinning. At games she Always
Loudly Vents S queals of excitement and is Enthusiastically Shouting i nineteen hundred
and ten, and at swimming meets Churns Choppy Waves.

With this Merrily Bouncing Sylph lives a girl who, because her room-mate is a Mys-
terious Little Rover and always sleeps In Borrowed Beds, is a Jubilant Homeseeker. Yet
at college she is Known for Lateness and Does Nothing because she Can't Decide what to
do. She is nervous and Mice Keep Her Wakeful which accounts for a strange friend of
hers who Knows Much Embryology and is a Zealous Science Faker and Hunts Woozy
Sensations, so that she Slays Crawling Animals.

Altogether college Might Be Worse.

Love to the family. JEANNE B. Kerr,

Your Famous Little Wonder. Mary D. W. WortHinerton.

Mur Song Committee

UR musical career began early with an ill-fated rush song, To celebrate the general
rejoicing occasioned by our appearance, we evolved that little gem of the poetic art,
entitled, “Wow, Wow, Wow,” or “The Kitten’s Tragedy.” When we heard the

taunting strains of “Meow, Meow, Meow” before the Rush, did we sit down and shed a
hae: 118
bitter tear for our lost endeavours! Not at all. In its childish way, 1910 had, even at that
early date, a pride of its own. We rallied bravely, and our next song bade fair to drown
the shrieks and moans, squeaks and groans of the wierd figures who made life miserable for
us all around the campus. Even though not more than one-third of the class seemed able
to carry a tune, it was an auspicious beginning. Our next effort in the musical line almost
ended our career socially, for we proclaimed to an interested audience at the Senior recep-
tion that we gave a cheer for

“The class that always in our eyes

Shall be the best, shall win the prize,

Cheerily, hip hurrah.”

and went on with the hearty but tactless statement that
“None can surpass

Our Senior Class,
The class of 1907.”

(You need not search your song books for these lines. The thoughtful Song Committee,
ever jealous for the reputation of the class, felt it was wiser to get out a revised edition of
this song for the glare of publicity.) Our Juniors, who filled the gallery, were, naturally,
a little “took aback,” but we redeemed ourselves at the hockey games by having three songs
to them alone. And let me add that, when once 1910 was wound up on the chorus,

afd

nu J Pe mar J, (repeat ad infinitum.)
Tee

there was no stopping them. Any Juniors would have been flattered.

Not belonging to the Math Shark Club, I cannot count the times our Lantern Song
was reconstructed. The original took place in the fertile brains of the “dashing daughters
of Denbigh,” but Frances Jackson spent days going from hall to hall with amendments,
until we were trained in the gentle art of swinging our Indian Clubs rhythmically without
colliding with our neighbours as we practised in the gym.

il4

Ou. .


Then came the Freshman show, and under the capable management of Miss Nearing,
a number of ditties were added to our repertoire. No one likes to think what we should
have done on the Senior steps four years later without these old stand-bys.
We welcomed the sub Freshmen in a brief but comprehensive song, which included,
among other things:
A remark about the weather. |
An analysis of our personal reaction to it.
An effusion of welcome, and a forecast of the future.
An invitation to afternoon tea.
An allusion to athletics.
More remarks on the weather and the way it affected us.
7. Another burst of welcome.

Po eS

Remember, all these songs had been written before the Standing Song Committee was
ever established by the restless rumination of ready Miss Rotan. It simply goes to prove
that a song committee is not as necessary as the class supposes. When the ingenious device
of perpetuating a song committee first occurred to our President, the class heaved a sigh of
relief—all but the five hapless mortals whom ill luck had marked for its own. Yet the class
occasionally came to the aid of the committee. “Just One More,” dear to every member of
1910, and despised by everyone else, was the result of a spontaneous combustion of excite-
ment on the hockey field. As you will see by referring to page 19 (I hope the class knows
its song book), no author’s name was put down for this. It almost explains itself, but illus-
trated hand books of the song will be sold on the field at the next game. We found these
concise songs most encouraging to the team. No one could resist the heart-rending appeal,

“Oh, get in the basket.
Pleadingly we ask it.”

Speaking of match games, I should like to condole here in public with the intrepid spirits

who have made up songs for dinner after the games. It is a thankless task.

I sit in my bathtub, When after much toil
Alone, making rhymes, A rhyme I grind out,
When I hear a voice calling My table receive,
“Tt’s most dinner time.” With jeer and with shout.
I haul on my clothes, I’ve a sign on my door now
And I rush to the table, To save further bother,
A-making up rhymes “T’ve made all your songs

Just as fast as I’m able. Take me home to my mother.”
About this time we discerned on the poetic horizon the star of the song committee, Miss
George. Her dramatic entrance was made on the night before 1909’s orals. After hearing
the applause given to her song, 1910 perked up, and thought maybe it could write songs
after all, even if it could not sing them. Since then she has gone steadily along the path of
glory. The printer did his best to change those choice lines,

“If we give you Mr. Whiting
Clavichord, spinet, voice all uniting”
into
“Tf we give you Mr. Whiting
Clear-the-Lord, spirit, vice all in writing.”

Miss George is a deserving young poetess, and any favours shown her will be appre-
ciated by the song committee.

‘““Medea”’ with its choruses encouraged us even more. Of course it was hard for Mary
Ag, Charlotte and such to keep quiet when the “Sons of Erechtheus” appeared, but they
always refused kindly but firmly when asked to sing—having received previous instructions
from Miss Tenney, our indefatigable leader. The printer made Euripides beg rather
ungrammatically

“Loose not on we,

Oh Holder of man’s heart,
Thy gilden quiver.”

and rather startled us by introducing a new class animal, the “Buide,” in the last chorus.

Senior year we advanced perceptibly in brilliancy, and ended up in a burst of glory with
two Senior songs. The song committee, especially Miss George, has earned its repose.
And yet it must confess that it would be willing to put up with the idiosyncracies of 1910
a little longer. It cannot help remembering that

“We'll be next year

Alumne 1910, OH!
Hitpa WortTHINGTON SMITH.

116
Chapel Reminiscences

RESIDENT THOMAS says that she thinks—though she may be wrong, and she
P would like to know what we think about it—but she thinks that 1910 is not a Chapel
Class. Now, she may be wrong, but that is her impression. Generous Miss Thomas!
She couldn’t bear to detract by a straw’s breadth from the illustriousness of any Senior class.
She might have called a meeting of the Presidents of Self-Gov., Undergrad., C. U., Ath-
letic Association, Mr. Foley and the Rock Seamstress to settle the matter, but this little band
of wiseacres had their time pretty well filled up last spring with general arbitration on all
college problems, from jumper tails to Sabbath observance—in fact, everything outside the
province of “Miss Edith Murphy, manager of Bryn Mawr College” (as she chose to sign
her bookshop correspondence. Oh, you, Pat!)’.

Were we a chapel class? That depends on what constitutes a chapel class. If num-
bers, I dare say, not. If zeal of the minority, certainly, yes; for the first two rows were as
regular as the sunrise, and but little less betimely—supposing, of course, that the sun formed
a habit of not rising on Wednesdays. Well, for that matter, the first two rows came even
on Wednesdays, and grew so broad-minded as to speak very magnanimously of the prayers
and of the speaker’s estimable moral character. It was his voice, we said. How true, and
how very discriminating of us! Well, we may have sounded condescending, but we did like
our Chaplain very sincerely before the four years were over, especially after he told the joke
about the pirate. As for President Thomas, why should I try to immortalise her on these
mortal pages? She will be aptly taken off at every fellowship dinner to the end of time, and
you can’t do justice to Miss Thomas. It isn’t significant to say, “Miss Maddison tells me
I have neglected to mention the European fellow.” It is too likely to happen next year.
And what of it? For who else could work the impassivity of a Bryn Mawr Chapel audience
into a ferment of expectancy over the nominations to the Book Shop. If she doesn’t give
you an egg, she makes you delighted with a stone.

By the way, speaking of the impassive Bryn Mawr audience, do you remember the
morning Doctor Sanders and Mrs. Sanders brought the wife of a clergyman who was
to speak in chapel? The clergyman himself had gone to the platform with President
Thomas. It was when we were Juniors. They came in with Miss Maddison at the very last
minute to the front row of our block. They began to sit down just as the audience began
to rise for the hymn. Mrs. Sanders went on down. Doctor Sanders went back up.
The wife vacillated in mid-air, thought things over, and sat down just as Mrs. Sanders

117
changed her mind and got up. Doctor Sanders chivalrously decided to support the
stranger and began to sit down again—all within 2 seconds—whereupon the choir in the
rear strikes in, “Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus.” Grace Branham and I were directly back
of them. You can count on Grace not to miss any of Doctor Sanders’ moves, and she
yielded to this ecstasy, slipping under the seats as if she had been touched with a live wire.
My shame for my own behaviour was only exceeded by my mortification in hers.

Oh, a month out of college is long enough to make one’s heart pine even for the days
when the chapel bell rang before one’s egg appeared or anybody there’d seen Sally, and one
had to change one’s shoes, find a belt, and copy one’s English theme before it stopped ring-
ing. How gladly would I try to do them all in the next sixty seconds for the incalculable
joy of rushing up the office steps just as Nelson heaves the hammer, indecorously brushing
past Miss Maddison or even the President, to have D. Cole, for example, beckon me to an
empty chair by her, to have the choir—our beautiful choir (weren’t they the best-looking
people in college, or does it just seem so to us because Elsa led them?) to have the choir
at my right rise, in all the gentle dignity of their caps and gowns, and sing—412, I hope—
while I shift uneasily and wonder if President Thomas can see in the front row the slippers
that there wasn’t time to change after all.

But 1911 has the front row! “Time is, Time was, Time is past.”

RutxH Gerorce.

Class prophecy

WAS not one of the first to take advantage of improved methods of elevation, and
when, after a prosaic life spent on Earth, I finally undertook the trip on the New York
Skywards to Mars, I was greatly delighted to find in residence as citizens of one of the

most advanced sections of that planet a great number of the Class of 1910. As the dirigible
alighted, I had the good fortune to meet Betty Swift, and she acted as my guide throughout
my visit. It is to her unfailing accuracy in all facts pertaining to the class that I owe the
knowledge of how 1910 fulfilled its duty as advanced leaders of civilisation.

“We'll go first to May Wesner’s hotel,” said Betty. “You see everyone there. I
don’t know whose tea-day it is, but they won’t mind our coming. May has had great suc-
cess in spite of the fact that she does all the cooking. The top floor is an orphan asylum,
run by Ike and Bill, on an extensive scale. When Madeleine Edison married the King of
Mars, she gave a wedding breakfast at the hotel. They had a special performance of

118




Katharine Liddell’s play, which has been praised even on Earth, and with which Jeanne has
toured the universe, winning eternal fame. Madeleine has never forgotten any of us, and
has endowed a school which Ruth George runs. You just ought to see the style her pupils
put on! They all copy Ruth in every detail and all the extremes of fashion. Ruth writes
articles for Smart Set most of the time, and lets Mary Boyd do all the work. Evelyn Seeley
and Albion are the head teachers. Jane Smith used to teach etiquette here until she had a
fight with Ruth over some fine point and lost her job. Lillie James is the great influence,
though. She has fairly spiritualised the institution. They have laboratories for special
research, where Millicent, Janet and Katharine Evans are working separate problems. Zip
experiments on the orphan children, with D. Cole and Julia Thompson to help try methods
of education. They do say that those children have a terrible existence!”

“Isn’t Mary in the laboratory?’ I asked.

“Mary, my dear, is the biggest joke’—and Betty actually giggled—‘you know, she
lectured on Women’s Rights up here for years, and then she married the worst political boss
in the State. He rules her with a rod of iron, and she is blissfully happy. She presides
awfully well at mothers’ meetings, they say.”

By this time we had reached the tea-room of May’s hotel, and the first person who
came to us was Mary, enthusiastic and radiant.

“My dear,” she said, “it’s really too dreadful how many of us are married. Kate was
first, of course, and has since run the entire community in most marvellous order. We
married people have such fun! Babby, Agnes Irwin, Mary Ag and Jo Healy live right
around the corner. Of course, Sidney and Josephine and Katharine Kelley think we are
inexperienced young interlopers. But our society is very gay, with Ros and Betty Tenney
and Nina. We get a good deal of court life through Beth Hibben, who married the
Ambassador from Saturn; and, of course, we follow intellectual pursuits by reading the
books of Grace Branham and by keeping up with Jane’s poetry. She publishes two vol-
umes a year.”

Here two slim visions glided toward us, gorgeously gowned, and I recognised, with
difficulty, Esther and Bill.

“Did you know,” said Bill, that Ape has just come from her trip around the planet?
She has met lots of the Class. Frances Hearne is somewhere on a huge chicken farm, and
Kirky is teaching hockey to the natives that Margaret Shearer and Boggs are civilising.
She found Constance on a huge flower reservation next door to Louise Merrill’s mushroom

119
ranch, In the provinces she discovered Susanne teaching how to give Greek plays, and
Peggy James and Hildegarde starring in a grand opera troupe. Pinky Ashton and Clara
Ware are teaching swimming.”

“What is Cabby doing?” I ventured.

“She,” said Betty,” is writing her memoirs in serial form for one of the magazines in
her syndicate. She has had so many experiences that her work is very valuable. You
know, she was sent to Siberia when Nelly went for the third time, and would have been there
yet if Betty Tappan hadn’t gone to rescue them.”

“Why Betty?’ I asked.

“Oh, she was the only person who hadn’t anything else to do.”

The room had become crowded by this time. I saw the Twins sitting happily in one
corner, and Lucy and Mary Root in another.

“Have you heard the scandal,” said a voice, and, turning, I saw Miriam, who, with a
delighted expression, told us that Pat and Henrietta Riggs and Ethel Chase were actually
touring in classic interpretation dances. “They tried to get an entreé into the White House,
and, would you believe it, Dorothy Nearing refused to have them!”

“What has she to do with the White House?”

“My dear, do you mean to say you didn’t know that Dorothy is Secretary of State in
the United States, and practically runs the entire country. That’s why there are so many
reforms on Earth. It got too calm for me, so I came up here.”

You may imagine how pleased I was to hear 1910’s record, but the climax was in store,
when Betty, as we left the hotel, asked, blushingly, “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Keeping the community in good spirits and cheering at the election polls?”

“No,” said Betty, drawing herself up proudly, “I have founded a college. As presi-
dent, I oversee all the faculty and all the students, and keep them in the ways they should
go.” Esa DENISON.

120
Cennis

Class Championship won by
1913

College Championship Cup

Won by G. Hamiron, 713

Captains

E. Swrrt, 710

E. Fanrres, 712

H. Emerson, ’11
J. Tomutnson, 713

Class Team

E. Swirt, C. V. Smonps,
D. NEARING

Class Team in Doubles

E. Swirr and E. Tenney

C. V. Stmonps and D. Nrarine

M. Kirx and E. Denison

E. G. Hissen, Substitute
Class Champion—E. Swirr

"Varsity Team

E. Swirt, 710, Captain
G. Hamiton, 713
K. Pace, 713
E. Fanrtes, °12 —

A. Parrerson, °13

Alumne ’Varsity Tournament

A. G. Hamitton, 713, vs. H.
Srureis, ’05—A. G. Hamm-
ton, 7138—1-5, 6-4.

Senior Athletics

K. Pace, 713, vs. A. Wuitney,
°09—A. Wuirney, ’09—9-7,
6-4.

E. Swirt, 710, vs. K. Wriu1aMs,
°00—E. Swirrt, °10—6-2, 6-2.

E. Fares, 712, vs. A. Piatt,
7°09—E. Fanrirs, '12—6-0,
6-3.

A. Patterson, °13, vs. E. Har-
RINGTON, "06—E. Harnzinc-
ton, ’06—6-4, 6-3.

Hockey
Championship won by 1910

Captains
M. Kirk, 10
C. Cuasg, 712
L. Hoveurepine, 11
A. Hearne, 13

Class Team

M. Krex, Captain
J. Howew1.
F. Hearne
M. AsHLEY
A. WuitTEMoRE
E. Denison
C. V. Smwonps
M. A. Irvine
K. Roran
I. Brxier
M. Worrureton

121

Scores

1910 vs. 1912—9-1
1910 vs. 1912—%-1
1910 vs. 19183—2-1
1910 vs. 1918—0-5
1910 vs. 19138—65-1

*VaRSITY

K. Roran, ’10, Captain
J. Howe t, ’10
F. Hearne, 710
M. Kirk, 710
J. ALLEN, 711
E. Denison, 710
M. Eeay, 711
M. Asutey, 10
H. Emerson, ’11
L. Stetson, 713
M. Worrurneron, 710

Substitutes from 1910

C. V. Smmonps, ’10
A. Wuirremorg, ’10

Varsity Scores

*Varsity vs. Belmont—11-1

"Varsity vs. Merion Cricket
Club—12-2

Varsity vs. All Philadelphia,
3-7
Senior Athletics—cContinued

Swimming Contest Captains
Championship won by 1910 C. V. Sumonps, "10 (resigned)
M. Krex, ’10
Captains A. Panxer, "11
I. Taner, '10 F. Crensuaw, "12
E. Povweyr, '12 L. Harpocx, °13.
D. Corrr, "11 1910 Class Points, 7—Fourth
Y. Sroppagp, "13 place.

Events won by 1910

68 ft. swim on back. Wane, 21
secs. Established record.

Basket Ball
Championship won by 1910

136 ft. swim on back. Wane, 51 Captaine
secs. Established record. F. H. Heazwe, "10
A. Cuampens, "12
Individual Points J. V. ALLEN, "11
C. Ware, 14 points. Second A. G. Hasartow, "13 _
place.
D. Asrox, 11 points. Third ee
place. F. H. Hearwe, Captain
E. Denisow
M. Krex
Indoor Track Weet mo moran
C. V. Smwonnps
Class Championship won by M. P. Asuiey
1911 A. Wurrremore
Individual Cup 7. mowas, —*
Won by H. Emenson, "11 M. A. levine

122

Scores

1910 vs. 19158-—-20-8
1910 vs. 19138-—15-4

1910 vs. 1911-10-8
1910 vs. 1911—12-11

"Darsity-Alumnar Game

"Varsity Team

F. H. Heagwe, Captain

E. Denison, "10

M. Krex, "10

H. Emerson, "11
J. V. Auten, '11
K. Pace, "13

A. Cuamauens, '12

*K. Roray, "10
*C. V. Sumonns, '10

A. Parxen, '11
H. Hewpenrsow, *11
M. Eeax, "11

*Subs.

Alumna Team

C. Wesson, ’09

A. Pratt, ’09

M. Tuvasrton, '05

E. Wuirre, '06

K. WriusaMs, *00

I. Lyxpz Daman, °05
C. Dextmon Swan, 05
C. E. Hararmeron, '06
A. Neate, ’06

Score: 17-5. ’Varsity won.




0 ee ee



L’ Enbot

e bold in our bands, Dear 1910, the strands of our
common memories. SBanp ate warm and bright,
for we ate poung. @ few are Dark, and these we

finger wonderingly. Bright and sombre, we weave them
all into this bit of tapestry whose figure seeks to catch the
spitit of those swift, winged pears. Mot deceiving out:
selves, for the pattern of our weaving must grow Dim; pet
satisfied that, for us, pear bp pear there shall stand out
new meaning from the faded outlines—a fairer pattern for

the threads that mar it now.
Ruth George







SP oF SF + +


Class Addresses

BIRTHDAYS ADDRESSES

Susanne C. ALLINSON,........ May Me. sae 163 George Street, Providence, R. I.
MASE. P. AGHLENs. 6.000, ss ++ December 26........ 41 phe Eighty-seventh Street, New York
ity
TDOROONE: 1 ABMTOR oie os oe ve Hans bas eos sores PN aGeE ec ed eek pane Swarthmore, Pa.
RUre DAR os. cake February 24...........273 North Main Street, Fall River, Mass.
GARAM Pees coy cote cnn boeken Ge e's s Took es 569 Lancaster Avenue, Haverford, Pa.
Rea Be PURER, oS sess 3k FONG FA ais. sos pacha ie 236 McKee Place, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Heten MM.) BLY, . 6504s, 2 Amma SBTC. Se ee ek aie ns ke tis Narberth, Pa.
Anita M. Uarpa Boocs.......November 14....... Second and Pine Streets, Harrisburg, Pa.
LAURA HOPE. sys bi ee ceesss Waly Bees ea 327 North Negley Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Grace B. BRANHAM........... September 8............-. 2200 Eutaw Place, Baltimore, Md.
CorInNE BRASH,.............. DESEO OAL)... «sau ten 834 Marietta Avenue, Lancaster, Pa.
Joszrnure Baow'. 3{..2 2... ; October abi: co: 310 Portland Avenue, St. Paul, Minn.
Rora Cason. ..050 uc Cie. Tree re. os ea) Sie, tage East Milton, Mass.
Evusy' B: CeAsti. .. ciasics ss NOWGIIIIE TF 6 oss scale dann The Connecticut, Washington, D. C.
DoRornna. CORE oils sce Ob so ck he eiee he Cee k GeO dn Beles Chester, IIl.
Burs COLUMN yan ss > AUN ORCL. ss cep es Riera: Cone, Pitman Grove, N. J.
Rurt Coomic.stivrigeasaes COME Be. cs oat hates 4853 Kenwood Avenue, Chicago, IIl.
C. Bessie OOxs 666 (ib ahi October 28......... Care Mrs. M. B. Riehlé, 1825 Wallace Street,
Philadelphia
Annina DE ANGELIS........... Fe i i I aera PE Coat ge 11 Cottage Place, Utica, N. Y.
Evers Daeme. 61065) i cass 2 es Ate Pi ee i ts E. M. Deems, Pocantico Hills,
ConsTaNce DEMING........... Aart B06 sees. 3 Care Mr. Horace Deming, 15 William Street,
New York City
PALMA: LIRNIOON os oo vad eves PONY Ae ee ess ie ee 1317 Ogden Street, Denver, Col.
DEARY LIOHEMY 33006 -c55 55s 008 3 INOVEINDOE Ba och oe eae eee Box 80, Haverford, Pa.
Gertrup Erss_oHu MUxter.....September 4........ (Mrs. R. O. Miller) The Wyoming, Fifty-
fifth Street and Seventh Avenue, New
York City.
MapELEINE EpIsoNn............ MEG BE LS. ees Llewellyn Park, Orange, N. J.
ATMAGINE EOVANGs.. 15 coches wee cos tens cos iccctcncccds cuts +++ as (Ol, Nacholasvinie: Ky.


Class AdDdresses—Continued

Zip SoLomons FALk
SIDNEY GARRIGUES

eee ee @ oe

M. Rore E. Geoace i.

SARA GOLDSMITH

BIRTHDAYS

ofe® eee weaane

of e ee ee

eeeeeoee teeter eeenseeseeseseeeeeoeeeeenes

Eprra_ E. Greeley. csi 7).

ADDRESSES
211 West Gurnett Street, Savannah, Ga.

Haverford, Pa.
842 Lincoln Avenue, Allegheny, Pa.
228 North Taylor Avenue, St. Louis, Mo.
....4833 Woodlawn Avenue, Chicago, IIL.

eeeeeeeeer eee easeeseseseesevneaseee

HiLDEGARDE HARDENBERGH....May 27............ 121 oe Seventy-third Street, New York
ity
JosEPHINE HEALEY............ April Wi acotes, 61 North Franklin Street, Pottstown, Pa.
Frances H. HEARNE.......... Marchy ici poMgaas sx fee ee ee ect Wayne, Pa.
Miriam M. Hepecgs........... PeptemDber Faia ee. sos een isdn BUT la dele oh Galveston, Tex.
Excwaseta G. Hrepeniy, 76.4). Augiat: tf oicicg0 6). Seu ey oa Princeton, N. J.
EpirH S. HorFHeIMer,........May 1............. 10 Madrid Building, Burnett Avenue, Avon-
dale, Cincinnati, Ohio
Janet T. Howie... 6746. January’ ¥2, scien i ' 232 West Lanvale Street, Baltimore, Md.
Hater. Bo Huan. en cs: September 7.3/4... 257 East Forty-ninth Street, Chicago, III.
Mary Acnes IRVINE.......... Jilly 36; iccuicacewees 6 364 216 Elysian Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Acwes M- Tawitie oe a August 20,......... 830 South Forty-eighth Street, Philadelphia
MarcareT M. JAMES,......... March 44.00 nies... 95 Irving Street, Cambridge, Mass.
Ligure: JAMES. 66 Suiyere ss Tune 3.420 a 3426 North Twenty-first Street, Philadelphia
ARNE. GC. JONES COL vei aps sk eile beipels ate’ss May cumin 1710 B Street, Lincoln, Neb.
Vidar KRSILLER. boon Ghetobes! Fie eis 101 Elmwood Avenue, Narberth, Pa.
KatuarinE M. KEettey...-....October 29......... 2255 East Fifty-fifth Street, Cleveland, Ohio
Jeanne B. Kerr.............. February I0........ Care Mr. H. D. Kerr, 31 East Forty-ninth
Street, New York City
GERTRUDE KINGSBACHER.......December 28........ ep te Avenue, Pittsburgh,
a.
MARION. Gi BIRR: e545 Match: Fas 114 on Washington Lane, Germantown,
; hila.
EpitH Kietr CUNNING........ PING BA eas CaN (Mrs. G. A. Cunning) Las Animas, Col.
Manky¥ ETHEE DADD « «oo s.6 55.50% PIE BO. aie ce cure eae 2004 Mt. Vernon Street, Philadelphia
KATHARINE Fl LIDDELL. ....5; 2 February 27.) 566 s0scs ees vees 9 Murray Street, New York City
Juuier Lrr STERN...........-- PEDEU BO. ese ie dae Se visa (Mrs. J. David Stern) Glenside, Pa.
Marjorie S. MILLER
Epirax H. Murpruy
Mape ine C. Nasu
Dorotuy NEARING

Mituicent Ponp
Acpana R. QuimBy

Grace RosENFELD
JoserHInE Ross..............
KaTuarine L. Rotan
Evetyn E. SEELy

Marcaret J. SHEARER
MarGuERITA SHIPLEY
Hitpa W. Smita

CATHARINE SOUTHER
Lota SouTHWICK

Class Abddresses—Continued

BIRTHDAYS ADDRESSES
Chidca a Ariicn: March 13..............-..++-24 North Street, Plymouth, Mass.
Beat ivi 2 Giks vin BAY Nie viKib. ccecec ack BCA aU Oaksmere, New Rochelle, N. Y.
proAlcépie's Ocdolet (8... bes Vidniallernssann.0, ote: Raga wee
eH Wis January 3..........303 South Thirty-ninth Street, Philadelphia
es RUM eS December 5.........-...--+--4911 Lake Avenue, Chicago, Ill.
Laie MK aod April 4.............1427 North Sixteenth Street, Philadelphia
Fi ees ss eR hi. os ob ods wae 707 Ninth Street, Sioux City, lowa
Wiebe sew August 2...........Care Prof. G. G. Pond, State College, Pa.
ARYL es June 20.,..........278 West Eighty-sixth Street, New York City
Lacie Vii Repemnenace..... 2... July 20h... ee bITa adres oe bey Huntington, Ind.
EIRNRIEPTA Bi PROGR ys os JUNO Fes. ek 131 oa Avenue, N. E., Washington,
Sei eid October 30.........63 East Sixty-fourth Street, New York City
bial ya eh BEA LiL Gwe October 20.........631 9 Leverington Avenue, Roxborough,
ila.
es Mee ied be October 21................1620 Michigan Avenue, Chicago, IIL
OMNES avy Since OCs Liss i ch \5celee vente ... Haverford, Pa.
Brees wiih PPE Fhe os sees en al tle is A eae cat ee,
sorta Hea eis WRAG eee 66s ek iN ROIMN Gs obra aed a Eee: By X.
Oo Ve SOE sess ocean earinee sc cellent cnwny Raney as eee
UES a 0 aR 71 East Eighty-second Street, New York City
RUS | UCN UCN tt ER ee eink. ow hu go ee Le ... Haverford, Pa.
cin ¢ b<,4 June 13............356 Resa Avenue, Clifton, Cincinnati, Ohio
CoARLOTin V. eines 1.1 VAM A... ee, 7 Red Oak Road, Wilmington, Del.
hae eda ws June 19............320 West Ninety-first Street, New York City
Veeco June 30.................851 Prospect Avenue, Hartford, Conn.
DV AWU RN MA SNAS OMNCCUEE Lb ba bb weld eeeaenc cues 1621 A Street, Lincoln, Neb.
OMA 21. SURIMBAR lis ce SiO AD focc es cen vcabcc 1309 North Broad Street, Philadelphia
Frances STEwart Ruopes......August I............ (Mrs. G. B. Rhodes) 186 E. McMillan St.,
Mt. Auburn, Cincinnati, Ohio
jy sais September 4................286 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
La iL 3 February 23............2249 Glenwood Avenue, Toledo, Ohio






yu

Class AdDdresses—Continued

BIRTHDAYS ADDRESSES
ELISABETH SWIPTia ins) <-s JUNG Abc ese eke 20 West Fifty-fifth Street, New York City
[zerte. TABER.. Uiscan ik ss OTR Bae oh ange ot ay ein whe Haverford, Pa.
ELIZABETH TAPPAN............ December 2), 60000404. seeks 1419 Bolton Street, Baltimore, Md.
EvizABETH L. TENNEY......... Decanies: Fein oc Cal oap en Winnetka, Ill.
Jutta THompson.............. UNG IO es? fea ty “Seven Cedars,” Lake Forest, IIl.
ALBIONE L, VAN SCHAACH..... Sepemel 1G oes ee eee ceil 54 Cedar Street, Chicago, IIL.-
Ciara C. Watt ae. PDT BE eee sale cy a's eed ee RACE Hingham, Mass.
Many B. Wrenekii iss -45.. November 19........ Svea 1107 Wallace Street, Philadelphia
ALIcE WHITTEMORE............ Mae 28 aii oss cares apomueae wees Grand Rapids, Mich.
Laupa: Wiebeao) 224050250... Pulp 22. Seca: 359 East Fifty-eighth Street, Chicago, Il.
Frorence B. WILBER..........October 14............-. 711 Grand Avenue, Asbury Park, N. J.
Marion K. WILDMAN.......... April 2.35. cc inea. ss. 811 West Main Street, Norristown, Pa
GENEVIEVE WILSON............ UGGS, SE... ees ee 3342 Walnut Street, Philadelphia
Mary D. W. WorrHincrTon..... June 16.,.......... 29 a Seventy-seventh Street, New York
ty







Georce A. BARTON. Rosert M, JoHNnston. JosePpH W. WaArREN.











GeorGE S. ForseEs. MARIAN REILLY. IsABEL MAppISON.


















___ —————_——





CuarLtes M. ANDREWS. ANNA BELLE LAWTHER. Davin TENNANT.





















LuciEN Fouter. - ALBERT SCHINZ. Davin Irons.








Asa R. GIFFoRD. GeorGE W, T. WHITNEY. James H. Levusa.











—$_—

CLARENCE E. FERREE, JosEPH WRIGHT. CuHaArLoTTe A. Scort.








WILMER FRANCE WRIGHT. HERMANN COLLITZ. CaRL JESSEN.













CLARENCE ASHLEY. HELEN Strone Hoyt. Lucy Martin DonneELLY.












CLARENCE CARROLL CLARK. M. KATHARINE JACKSON, SAMUEL ARTHUR KING.









cE BASCOM. BENJAMIN Le Roy MILLER. CuHeEsTER A. REED.












ARTHUR LESLIE WHEELER. TENNEY FRANK, CAROLINE Lou RANSOM,















HeNry Raymonp Mussey, CuHarLes A. WILLIAMSON, W. Roy Smiru.








Davin W. Horn.



JAMES BARNES.













Mary L, Jones.



TANCE M. K. APPLEBEE.

Co

~~ +

—~



‘



B. HuFr,



WILLIA

Photo by Elias Goldensky,


HANS WEYHE.



RosE CHAMBERLAIN.









M. Puittirs Mason.







WILLIAM Henry ALLISON. FrepericK A. Biossom.


MARRIAGE

Invitations, Announcements

Calling Cards, Fine Stationery, Coats of Arms
Monograms, Address Dies, Book Plates

MAIL ORDERS RECEIVE PROMPT ATTENTION CORRECT STYLES
DEMPSEY & CARROLL
22 West 23 Street The Society Stationers NEW YORK





Everything
Musical

s pecital Attention to
Schools and Colleges





Every known piece of Music,
Music Book, and Musical
Instrument can be had at

©. DITSON & CO.

1632 CHESTNUT STREET
PHILADELPHIA







THE WARREN COMPANY

Makers of

High Grade Class Pins
Rings, Medals, etc.

@ Departments of Stationery will
be pleased to submit samples and
prices of Wedding Invitations,
Announcements, etc. Fine writ-
ing papers, die stamped.





WRITE OR CALL FOR QUOTATIONS

489 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY














L. FP. HOLEANDER & CO.

MAKE A SPECIALTY or

SIMPLE PAR IT BOCK s

ESPECIALLY DESIGNED FOR YOUNG WOMEN

Prices from $65.00
Fifth Avenue at 46th Street









GEORGE ALLEN

Incorporated

1214 CHESTNUT STREET



Summer Sale of Trimmed Millinery

Summer Sale of Undermuslins and
Waists -

Complete line of Embroideries and

Embroidered Materials for Grad-

uation Dresses
Display of Ready-to-wear Dresses



‘ALWAYS FIRST WITH THE LATEST”’’





ppyyenweeereemrmmmmmmmmnsmrr~w—w—w.

1). Knoedler & Co.
GIL)





PAR iS
NEW YORK
LONDON



be nrrwww vv












© «
JOHN B. SIMPSON
Tatlored—
Suits and Skirts
REGULATION SUITS 914 Walnut Street
A SPECIALTY Philadelphia, Pa.
(e| ®







Dewnison's

Crepe and Tissue Decorations



FAVORS, CONFETTI,
SERPENTINE, FLAGS



Surpass any productions for color scheme and

effectiveness for all occasions.

Dennisow NMfg-S Q.

1007 Chestnut Street PHILADELPHIA, PA.



BRIGGS’ RIDING ACADEMY
and Boarding Stable

Chestnut and Twenty-third Streets ::

iS

Oe first-class school of horsemanship
in Philadelphia. Ring 210 by 110
Stabling for 140 horses.
Instructions under personal super-

Well schooled sad-

dlers constantly on hand for hire and for sale.

Ps

Philadelphia

feet. Private
lockers.

vision of the proprietor.

Proprietors

ROBERT J. BRIGGS
WALTER BRIGGS

Bell Phone, Locust 1002
Keystone Phone, Race 641


AUTO GOCGLES







The most restful glasses
for all purposes







THERMOMETERS





NATURE’S TINT



For outdoor sports there is nothing to break the glare like our

“CHLORAIN LENSES”

Just slightly tinted—enough to reduce the irritating rays of the sun, without diminishing the definition.
Your prescription can be filled with Chlorain Lenses promptly.

J.L. BORSCH @ Ce.

OPTICIANS

1324 WALNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA



INVENTORS OF THE KRYPTOK BIFOCAL

LORGNETTES







Remarkably comfortable
for reading with arti-
ficial light







OPERA GLASSES





RRP EEE PEER REE EES

Designs House Decorations

Blooming Plants § Table Decorations

Cut Flowers Fern Dishes
Corsages





aas

Wreaths
Berry Bowls
Palms





Limited

PHILADELPHIA

we

SRR ERE RPE E EERE EERE EEE EEE EEE EERE EEE

Che London Slower Shop

1609 CHESTNUT STREET

JESSIE DREW-BEAR, Manager

@ This store intends to give fresher flowers and better
service than you have been accustomed to, at no greater
expense. Could I not ask you to give it a trial ?

# MRARARAARARAARARAAAA RARARARAAARARRRRAARA

“CAREFUL HANDLING AND QUALITY ”

OUR MOTTO:





Che Wilson Laundry

BRYN MAWR, PENNA.



We make a specialty of ladies fine

Special rates to students

work







PRRARAAARAAAAAAAARAARARAARAAAAARAAAALAL




Miss P. V. McNally

Ladtes’ and Gents’

Furnishing Goods
Dry Goods and Notions

Ramsey Block,
Lancaster Ave.

Bryn Mawr, Pa.

J. KISTERBOCK & SON

inn Lite alain: oft
Heaters, Ranges, Stoves and Grates
—$—$—__—_———. Dake i ——_______—_
Mantels, Tiles and Fire-Place Goods
JOBBING PROMPTLY AND CAREFULLY ATTENDED TO

2002-04 Market Street PHILADELPHIA, PA.
Factory: Nos. 4, 6, 8, S, 20th St. = T. J. LEARY, Mgr.



THE AGNES IRWIN SCHOOL

2011 DELANCEY PLACE
PHILADELPHIA
WILL OPEN SEPTEMBER 29, 1910

THE FIRST
NATIONAL BANK OF WACO
TEXAS
Capital $300,000.00
Surplus $200,000.00

EDWARD ROTAN, President - R, F. GRIBBLE, Cashier



BEST MEATS

We carry the best meats obtainable. We never sacrifice quality to
make a low price. We use the utmost care in selecting our meats, and
see that they are properly kept for the short time they remain in our store.

Our prices are not high. We don’t try to give as little as possible for
the money, but just as much as possible. A trial order will convince
you that what we advertise is true.

Bryn Mawr Meat and Provision Co.

Lancaster Ave., near Merion Ave., Bryn Mawr, Pa.

BOOKS

All the NEW BOOKS as Issued.
Choice Books in Fine Bindings

CAMPION & COMPANY

1316 Walnut Street, Philadelphia





ABOUT PRESCRIPTIONS

Prescriptions Compounded by Graduates in Pharmacy
only, at all hours, and absolute accuracy guaranteed.

Night Bell promptly answered. Prescriptions delivered
promptly by railroad or messenger.

FRANK W. PRICKITT,

Graduate in Pharmacy

ROSEMONT,

BRYN MAWR, PENNA,



BRINTON BROS.

Fancy and Staple Groceries

ey




Orders Called for and Delivered
BRYN MAWR

Lancaster and Merion Aves.
W. M. EMBICK & SONS





Cailoring





1618-20-28 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILA.

Miss Wright’s School for Girls
BRYN MAWR, PENNA.
gee

College Preparatory and Finishing Course
Certificate admits to Vassar, Smith, and Wellesley

Circular upon request



DHE, Foal et
FURRIER

Furs of the Better Grades

1210 Walnut Street ‘ ‘i

BELL TELEPHONE

Philadelphia



M. M. GAFFNEY

Ladies’ and Gents’
FURNISHINGS

Dry Goods and Notions







BRYN MAWR, PA.

POST OFFICE BLOCK



Longacre & Ewing
a INSURANCE

FIRE, AUTOMOBILE
BURGLARY, TOURISTS





BULLITT BUILDING

141 South Fourth Street Philadelphia

H. D, REESE

Dealer in the Finest Quality of

Beef, Veal, Mutton, Lamb and
Smoked Meats

1203 FILBERT STREET
PHILADELPHIA

Bell Phone, Filbert 29-49
Keystone Phone, Race 253



THE MISSES SHIPLEY’S SCHOOL

Bryn Mawr, Penna.



PREPARATORY TO BRYN MAWR COLLEGE

BUILDING — Specially designed Colonial building, with every
improved appointment. SITUATION —Educational and social oppor-
tunities of situation, onpee Bryn Mawr College. INSTRUCTION—
Diploma in College Preparatory and Academic Courses. Certificate
admits to Vassar, Smith, and Wellesley. Two resident French teachers.
Specialists in all departments. ATHLETICS — Resident athletic
_ director. YOUNGER PUPILS receive special attention, For illus-
trated circular, address THE SECRETARY.



WILLIAM H. RAMSEY

Grocer and Feed Merchant

ESTABLISHED 1870
DEALER IN FINE GROCERIES
Recleaned Choice White Oats, Hay, Straw, Bran, etc.
Sharpless Gilt Edge and Fine Creamery Butter and Eggs

BRYN MAWR, PENNA.


SPECIAL RATES TO STUDENTS





MARCEAU

Photographer
1609 Chestnut Street

PHILADELPHIA, PA.
Phone, Spruce 4860

GROUND FLOOR GALLERY



NEW YORK STUDIO BOSTON STUDIO
258 Fifth Ave. 160 Tremont St.

Henry R. Hallowell & Son

HOT-HOUSE and IMPORTED

FANCY FRUITS

THE REAL ESTATE TRUST CO. BUILDING
Broad and Chestnut Streets, Philadelphia









a OAL tO

Confectionery of the Best Quality
LADIES’ LUNCHROOM
1277 CHesitnutT STREET
PHILADELPHIA











THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY





Printers ad Publishers







Specialists in Distinctive and Artistic Printing







1006-1016 ARCH STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.







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