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2 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE
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Che Crimson and (bite
OcropeR, 1908 No. 1
Literary Department
Johnnies
The Johnnie who always looks up
in the air,
Is a yery poor sort of a boy;
For he will be to his parents a care,
Instead of their pride and joy.
And the Johnnie who always looks
down at the ground,
Is always a subject of jest,
He is one of the worst sort of boys
to be found,
For he has no manly zest.
But the Johnnie who always looks
straight ahead,
And into the future, you see,
Is the very best Johnnie for earn-
ing his bread,
He's the best kind of Johnnie to
be. "10.
Chestnuts and a Broken
Paddle
“Well,” said Gay thoughtfully,
* Let's ask Aunt Jo, as long as we
have to ask someone. She'll be
bothering with her old bugs all the
time and never notice us at all.
“Such wisdom!” laughed Gay’s
brother la
sofa.
from his place on the
“Oh,” answered his sister, “ you
needn't laugh. It’s lucky there’s
one in the party who has some
sense,” And with a little fling of
her head Gay departed to call up-
on Aunt Jo.
In order to explain the above
conversation we must have a
glimpse into the state of affairs.
ore Richard Farn-
ham, a judge of some repute, being
confined in the country for his
health, had bought a large tract of
land, mostly wooded, in the state of
Vermont and there moved his little
family of four. Now, although the
isted mostly of for
there were a few acres of cleared
land and a nut grove of no little
fame. Mr. Farnham, up to this
time, had been unable to arrange
with shippers to pick his nuts and,
as it was necessary to watch them,
\ short time |
estate cons
he had decided to send his son and
one of the farm hands. Gay, anxi-
ous to explore her new home and
also longing for a few days in the
woods, had begged to go with them.
4 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE i
Upon receiving permission, as
usual, she immediately took com-
mand of affairs and arranged a
camping party.
Therefore, the following Tues-
day saw this merry company situ-
ated beneath a group of trees over-
looking the shores of a pretty little
lake, with the Green Mountains in
the distance.
“Now,” said Gay determinedly
as she placed a tiny flag pole in
front of the camp, “the first one
who violates our rules and tres-
passes on our domain will be ban-
ished forever from this earth.”
“Yes,” replied Tom Farnham
doubtfully, “ but I wish I were as
certain as you that we are on our
own grounds. What if we were in
the nut grove of that cranky neigh-
bor of ours!”
“Well, we’re not—and_ besides,
I'm not afraid of him anyway.”
And Gay tilted her chin stubbornly,
“Who, pray tell, is this cranky
neighbor of ours?” asked Aunt Jo,
a person with gray hair and spec-
tacles and a cheery smile.
“We've never seen him, Auntie,
but they say he is a young man
who has just come into possession
of the neighboring estate upon the
death of his grandfather. He is
very careful of the game in the
forests and for that reason has been
called cross. However he'll not
bother us;—and so you, Auntie
may collect your bugs in peace and
Tom may hunt as much as he likes,
so long as he does not trespass up-
on our neighbor's territory. / shall
guard the nuts!”
“T wish, dear, that you would
not call my zoological study
“bugs,’” protested Aunt Jo rather
feebly as she looked at the happy
face and laughing grey eyes of her
niece,
The second day found the camp
very well settled and regulated.
three rather disreputable looking
persons were driven away in the
early morning and after that, peace
reigned undisturbed until just be-
fore noon, when Tom and_ the
“handy man” of the camp left to
go fishing. Gay was preparing the
dinner and Aunt Jo was seated un-
der a large chestnut tree busily
mounting butterflies. Suddenly a
slight noise was heard. A long;
slender canoe scraped upon the
shore of the lake, and Gay, looking
up, saw an athletic young figure
clad in gray flannels approaching.
“T beg your pardon,” said he
politely, ‘my paddle has snapped.
Can you give me a stout cord?”
Gay hesitated, looked at him
suspiciously, and then beyond, to
the canoe within which was unmis-
takably, a bag of nuts. She
brought the string, however, and
then told him in a business-like way
that trespassers were not allowed
on their grounds.
“No?” said the sinful one ap-
pearing to be amused, “ then this
is your land?”
“ Certainly,’ answered Gay se-
verely and watched him with no
little satisfaction as he mended his
paddle and finally pushed off into
the lake.
That night Gay’s bravery was
the talk of the campers as they sat
around the brushwood fire and in
spite of Tom’s remark, that prob-
ably the trespasser was still in the
woods bordering the camp, Gay re-
mained proud and exultant.
Morning came and brought with
it a burst of autumnal splendor.
The air was crisp and cool, the lake
sparkling in the bright sunlight,
and the woods radiant with reds
and browns. Joyfully these city-
bred people prepared for a walk
with Nature—Tom with his gun
over his shoulder, Aunt Jo with
her butterfly net, and Gay with a
stout hickory walking stick.
The woods were hushed and si-
THE CRIMSON AND WHITE 5
lent, save for the occasional “ caw-
caw ” of a crow or the startled cry
of a song bird, while now and then
a partridge whirred away from a
nearby bush or a rabbit scudded
across their path.
Suddenly the trail swerved to the
right and descending a little knoll
they again found themselves upon
the shore of the lake. Before them
a canoe was drawn up upon the
beach and, a little further off there
was a small tent.
“ Tfello,” said Tom, “ what have
we here? Another camper?”
“Yes,” came the indignant
answer of Gay who had noticed a
broken paddle in the canoe, “ it’s”
with a little cry she ran toward the
tent and following her they per-
ceived a small easel upon which
was an unfinished but neatly exe-
cuted sketch.
“Why,” said Tom, “that looks
like—.”
“Anyone you know?’ asked a
cheery voice behind them and turn-
ing they discovered the owner of
the broken paddle.
“Ned Graham—of all persons!”
cried Tom in amazement. Intro-
ductions followed and Gay found
her brother’s college friend was the
thief of the day before.
“Tt's too bad I am caught, Miss
Farnham,” said Ned trying to look
penitent, “you see I did not obey
your command.”
“T thought you were one of the
chestnut thieves,” answered Gay
apologetically—her cheeks very red.
“Well, perhaps I was. Do you
think I may stay if I promise not
to take any more?”
“Yes, I guess so. You don’t
look villainous and you paint.”
Gay looked longingly toward the
canvas.
“T will give you drawing lessons
to pay you for your kindness,” an-
swered Ned and thereupon the bar-
gain was settled,
The following week was, indeed,
a pleasant one. Gay made rapid
advancement upon the sketches of
which she was so fond and also
learned the art of canoeing even
with a broken paddle. At’ night
Ned joined them around their
camp fire and, assisted by Tom, en-
tertained Aunt Jo and Gay with
tales of their college pranks. Gay
never forgot to tease this chum of
her brother's by reminding him of
his position as a chestnut thief.
Therefore great was the triumph of
that young man when Mr, Farn-
ham appeared with his shippers and
identified the thief as their “ cranky
neighbor” and the owner of that
part of the grove upon which they
had unintentionally camped.
—Berry, ‘to.
Hallowe’en
Perhaps no night in the year has
stamped the popular imagination
with a more peculiar character than
the evening of October thirty-first,
known as All Hallows Eve or Hal-
lowe’en. It is clearly a relic of
pagan times for
church observances of
ing day of All Saints.
‘The superstitious tradition re-
garding it is that-it is the night of
all others when supernatural influ-
ences prevail; when spirits of the
invisible world walk abroad. For on
this mystic evening it was believed
that the human spirit was enabled
by the aid of supernatural powers,
to detach itself from the body and
wander through the realms of
Witches, devils and evil
spirits of all kinds were also sup-
posed to revel during the night.
It was an old custom, and is still
customary in many places to build
bonfires of straw or brush on that
night, to drive away the spirits of
the darkness supposed to be hover-
ing in the air,
there are no
the ensu-
Pk OLN ESE SHEE SOT Ee oe GEE Ree eT ROU a |
6 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE
To be born on that eve, or vigil,
of All Hallows was accounted as a
good omen. ‘The fortunate ones
were thought to be able to foretell
the future, and to commune with
the dead, and to be protected by
good spirits,
Each family used to make its
own bonfire, and as it was dying
each member would throw in it a
stone previously marked for future
identification. All then said their
prayers and went to bed. In the
morning eager faces bent over the
dead fire in search of the mystic
stones, and if any were missing it
was a sign that that person would
die within a year. If one wished
to be offensive because of some
personal grievance, he would re-,
move the stone of him whom he
disliked from the grate and thus
cause that superstitious mind to be
anxious concerning his future.
In England it was long the cus-
tom to crack nuts, duck for apples
in a tub of water and engage in
other harmless revelries. While
the same could be said of Scotland,
the Hallowe'en observances of that
country partook more of a super-
stitious character, taking among
the rustics, a form of charm to dis-
cover who should be his or her
partner for life. .
What was once a thing of belief
has now become a thing of sport,
of welcome sport, in a day of such
serious thought and sense of re-
sponsibility that any excuse is ac-
cepted ; so now its observances are
all a jest which young people play
upon themselves, not believing in
the least in the consequences, but
half hoping that there might be
something in it and saying that
stranger things than that have hap-
pened.
In the United States it is to be
regretted that the spirit of rowdy-
ism has, in a measure, succeeded
the old custom, In towns and vil-
lages gangs of ruffians throng the
streets, ringing door-bells, tapping
on windows, destroying property,
and making nuisances of them-
selves, generally.
There is a similar superstition in
Germany concerning “ Walpurgis
night” the night preceding the
first of May. The peasants believe
that on this night there is a witch
festival, or gathering of evil spirits,
on the summit of the Brochen, in
the Hartz Mountains, and the in-
fluence of this convocation was be-
lieved to be felt all over the sur-
rounding country.
Considering that All Saints’ Day
was originally kept on May first,
there would be but little doubt
that Halloween and Walpurgis
night have a common origin, which,
doubtless, dates back to the earliest
belief in a personal and all-power-
ful Evil One—the Chaldean’s
Power of Darkness. 08,”
Auntie Morgan Il
“And Helen —— .”
“Yes Auntie.”
“Do be a little reserved on the
train. You know you are apt to
make such blundering mistakes in
recognizing persons because of
your eyesight, and thereby become
acquainted with very peculiar
people. I don’t know why you
don’t wear your glasses.”
“Now Auntie, do not worry. I
shall not speak to a person I meet,
from here to New York, even if
one should prove herself to be Ma-
dame Galaise.”
In spite of this self-assurance of
Helen’s, Mrs. Morgan appeared to
be more worried than before. In
fact she always worried about
Helen. Helen was Mrs. Morgan’s
brother’s child, and she had lived
with her aunt since infancy, as her
mother had died when she was but
a year old, Although Helen had
THE CRIMSON AND WHITE 7
the Morgan chin, the Morgan nose
and the Morgan eyes, she did not
have the Morgan reserve.
Now Helen wwas to journey from
Boston to New York, without a
chaperon, for the purpose of at-
tending a fashionable finishing
school, conducted by Madame Ga-
laise. It was this fact that worried
hér aunt; but finally she decided
that Helen must go and must take
her chances.
“There! Your train is ready,”
announced Mrs. Morgan. “And
you did not send a telegram to Ma-
dame Galaise about having her car-
riage meet you at the station. But
you can send it at the next station.
Ask the operator over there if you
may. Do hurry Helen!”
Helen went to the telegraph of-
fice and made the inquiry. Coming
back she was obliged to hurry, for
the train announcer was conveying
the information to the throng, that
the New York Limited was about
to depart. Finally she rushed
toward a seat where a woman with
a purple suit was sitting.
“Everything is all right, Aun-
tie,” she said. “ Good-bye.”
She kissed the woman and_hur-
ried away without any response
just as she was about to go out to
the platform, she stopped and stared
with amazement at a woman with
a purple suit who was coming to-
ward her. It was Auntie Morgan.
“Helen, do hurry, you have
about two minutes,” said her aunt.
Helen gazed at her aunt, but
was too much bewildered to speak.
She kissed her aunt “ good-bye”
and hurried to the train. Once
seated, she began to solve her prob-
lem. Surely she had kissed two
women. Both could not have been
her aunt. Suddenly a woman
touched her shoulder. Helen
looked up and beheld the woman
with.the purple suit bending over
her.
“You are the young lady who
kissed me when I was in the sta-
tion?” asked the woman.
Helen could not answer direct-
ly because she was noticing how
much this woman ,resembled her
aunt and she decided to name her
Auntie Morgan II. Finally she
answered “ Yes, Madam, I am ex-
tremely sorry I made such an awk-
ward mistake, but I thought you
were my aunt, because you resem-
bled her very much and, being in
such a hurry, I did not have time
to: discover my mistake until a
while ago.”
My dear child,” responded
Auntie Morgan II, “after you
kissed me, I tried to follow you,
as I wish to ask you your name be-
cause you resemble a picture that
I have of my brother, and I am
anxious to know all about your
family.”
Helen told her companion the
history of her life from beginning
to the end of that present moment.
Auntie Morgan IT became very ex-
cited while Helen was relating the
story of her life. After she finished
Auntie Morgan II told Helen that
she had been waiting years and
years for this happy day. She said
that when she was small she had
wandered away from home and
was picked up by a farmer and his
wife who brought her to Scotland.
When the farmer died his wife told
her that she was not her child, and
gave her a small locket with the
name Elsie Farquhar engraved up-
on the back, and a picture of a
young man with dark hair. She
said that, she remained with the
farmer’s wife until her death, and
then she started out in the world to
find her relatives.
Helen was greatly impressed by
her companion’s story.
“ Why,” said Helen, “ Elsie Far-
quhar was Auntie Morgan’s maiden
8 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE :
name and I am positive that you
are my aunt.”
“Yes,” replied Auntie Morgan
II, “I agree with you, I long for the
time to come when I shall embrace
my long sought for brother and
sister. My dear what pretty rings
you haye, may I look at them.”
“ Certainly,” responded Helen as
she drew her rings off her finger.
Helen suggested that they should
alight at the next stopping place
and take the next train back to
Boston which Auntie Morgan IL
agreed to do. They carried out
this plan and arrived in Boston to--
ward evening.
While Helen was standing in the
waiting room she missed her com-
panion, and went to search for her
but in vain. Suddenly she looked
for her suitcase, but found it was
missing from beside the seat by
which she was standing. She went
out of the station, and was going
to ride home, but to her surprise,
found that her pocketbook was.
missing. Therefore she was com-
pelled to walk. She arrived home
very. much to the surprise of all
the family and related the events
to her father. Poor Helen she did
not realize that Auntie Morgan IT
was the cause of her losing all her
earthly possessions; but thought
they were lost by ill luck, and that
Auntie Morgan II was wandering
hopelessly through the streets of
3oston trying to find her.
“My dear,” said her father, “you
have been fooled by a very clever
woman commonly called a thief.”
Helen could not believe this un-
til her father explained all the facts
to her. Then he telephoned to po-
lice headquarters, and asked that a
detective be sent to his house.
When the detective arrived at the
house, Helen told him the story and
gave him a description of the ap-
pearance of Auntie Morgan II.
The detective told her that the po-
lice had been searching for this
woman for the last two years; but
were unable to find her. Helen re-
tired to her room that night with
a sad heart. The next day she
started for Madame Galaise’s Pri-
yate School for Girls chaperoned
by Auntie Morgan I.
M. B. 'o9.
Anthony J. Burns
It was a beautiful fall day but
Anthony J. Burns felt certain he
had to take a street car to—well
anywhere because he had his de-
scription of Charles R. White, a
great forger, and expected to get
a name, other than he had, by
catching “this fellow.” So. bus-
tling with his own importance, he
boarded a down-town car.
He cast a careless glance about
the car and then, as if he had a
sudden inspiration, he looked at
each of his fellow-passengers care-
fully. Lastly his eye fell upon a
middle-aged man at the end of the
car.
“Ah! my paper!” He drew it
from an inside pocket and carefully
read it. “ ‘Mixed gray hair and tall
with broad shoulders. He always
wears dark suits and black neck-
ties. Ah! humph—he answers
this description perfectly.
“ Jones laughed at me for taking
these points and not the foolish
details he took—eyes—nose—feet
—teeth—humph. What will he say
when I get Mr. Charles R. White.
Well, now for business!”
The car stopped and the passen-
ger next to the old gentleman went
out. Immediately Mr. Anthony J.
Burns strolled down the car, mak-
ing mad dashes at the swinging
straps and as he is a corpulent
gentleman, the passengers were
amused. However the old man was
engrossed in a newspaper and did
not see what was going on until
————
THE CRIMSON AND WHITE 9
he was aroused by our shrewd de-
tective falling into the seat next
to him and gasping for breath. He
went back to the paper and soon
was very interested.
“My dear young—er—old—er
my dear friend—.”
The supposed Mr. Charles R.
White looked up and hurriedly be-
gan to look for his pin, watch, ring,
and pocketbook, but they were still
in their places. He uttered a sigh
of relief, folded his newspaper and
looked at our friend who was morti-
fied and angry at being taken for a
pickpocket.
“T'll get you, Charles White and
then you will know whether I am
a pickpocket or not,” said our
shrewd detective under his breath.
The car stopped and the old gen-
tleman went out quickly followed
by Burns taking unusually large
steps.
“T wonder what that fellow
wanted. My first impression was
that he was a pickpocket but I
guess he is one of those, ‘I am it’
fellows who are not—. Why, there
he is now, following me! The man
must be insane.”
“ My dear fellow,” Burns had to
stop for breath. “I wish—er—to
know your name.”
“What good will that do you?”
“Well, it is of very great im-
portance that I should—for a
great, great deal depends upon it.”
He assured himself that he was on
the last step of the ladder of fame.
“T can see nothing of import-
ance in your knowing my name.
Besides, sir, you are taking up my
time. I have business to attend
to. Gcod-day.” ‘ With this he
strode majestically away, soon fol-
lowed by Burns half walking and
half running.
“T never saw anyone so bold in
the face of danger. Why, by look-
ing at me anyone could easily see
that I am a detective. He knows
it, otherwise he would not act as
he does,” said Burns with a wis
shake of his head and a wink. He
saw the chief of detectives do that
once and thought it very effective.
The supposed Charles R. White
turned and seeing Burns behind
waited for him.
“Now, see here, what do you
want? If my name—well it’s
James J. Cooper—now if you are
satisfied, go your way and stop
running after me.”
“Tt is you I want,” said Burns
in deep, solenin tones like those the
chief detective uses on such occa-
sions.
James J. Cooper looked at him
long and steadily and recognized
the man before him.
“Well, the game is up. 1 am at
your service Anthony J. Burns.
May I telephone my family?”
Burns was delighted, his face
was a study. It looked just like
the full moon, for happiness, joy
of success and pride made it just
as bright. Ie consented to White's
telephoning and then they pro-
ceeded to headquarters.
“ Here is Charles R. White! He
tumed the name Cooper—many
others I suppose and I, Anthony
J. Burns have him,” said our
shrewd detective as soon as he en-
tered, and then gasping for breath
threw himself into a chair,
Two men entered and demanded
the right to identify James J.
Cooper which was given them. As
they read the description of White
follows, they showered pitiful
glances at Burns who suddenly had
lost all importance. “White has
gray hair, blue eyes, a scar on his
left cheek, large mouth, a Roman
nose. He is about five feet eight
inches and broad shouldered.
When last seen he wore a dark
suit and black tie.”
James J. Cooper was acquitted
and left with the friends he had
as
10 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE
telephoned to, telling them the story
of his adventure and how he de-
cided to give Burns another name
on his long list of mistaken iden-
tities.
In the meantime Anthony J.
Burns was sitting in the same chair
and thinking. He discovered that
he was still at the bottom of the
ladder of fame and unless he con-
quered his pride he would remain
there forever. He learned a lesson
and let us hope that many Anthony
J. Burnses will also.
M. R. ’o9.
The Red Hair of Mary Ann
Mile De Puyten Hair Bleach
Guaranteed to change any color
hair to a beautiful golden within
one week. Write to-day, Price
$1 per bottle.
Mary Ann read the advertise-
ment again and gazed with admira-
tion at the golden-haired beauty
who smiled at her from above the
advertisement. Then she turned to
glance quickly at her own bright
locks which flamed from the glass.
There were two things in her life
which Mary Ann hated—one was
her despised red hair, the other the
unknown “second cousin on her
ma’s side.”
Mary Ann’s abode was at the
home of Aunt Miranda. Mary
Ann’s father was almost a stranger.
On birthdays and Christmas he
came on hurried visits to Aunt Mi-
randa’s. ‘Then followed hurried
questi in the grim old parlor
concerning Mary Ann, an equally
hurried dinner and a rush for train.
A dim remembrance of a laughing
brown haired lady was all that re-
mained to Mary Ann of her mother,
except the painting which hung
upon the parlor wall and which
seemed as out of place in all that
gloom as a red breasted robin on a
gloomy winter day.
Aunt Miranda was kind; but
then she would never be anyone
but the Aunt Miranda who had
an unquenchable thirst for gossip, a
wonderful memory for the dates of
births and deaths, and to whom
dust was an enemy always to be
battled with and who took great
delight in finding family resem-
blances in Mary Ann.
“Your nose is your ma’s all over
again; your chin belongs to the
assets, your pa’s side, but your
hair,” and Aunt Miranda would
sigh, “is the perfect shade of your
second cousin on your ma’s side.”
’Twas of her “ second cousin on
her ma’s side,” Mary Ann was
thinking as she lovingly drew a
crisp new dollar bill from the lower
bureau drawer. It represented the
tiring work of picking sticky red
raspberries on a hot summer day,
but in Mary Ann’s eyes there was
pictured a charming future in which
her thick braids would shine a gol-
den yellow, and when she would be
able to feel naught but pity for the
second cousin. Three things had
decided Mary Ann to rid herself
forever of her fiery locks—the ad-
vertisement, the golden haired
beauty and Susan.
Susan Hayden, the village beau-
ty, had golden hair. She came next
in admiration to the golden haired
beauty of the advertisement, cut
from the magazine left by Mary
Ann’s father, on one of his hurried
visits. Susan’s hair was a source
of great delight to Mary Ann as
was Susan herself. The way Susan
tossed her head, the way she smiled,
the jaunty way in which she wore
her red tam o’shanter—all ap-
pealed to Mary Ann. A yellow
tam a’shanter on her red hair would
never, never produce the same ef-
fect as did the red tam o’shanter
on Susan’s yellow curls. Mary
Ann knew this. Then what was
there to do but have yellow hair
i
THE CRIMSON AND WHITE Ir
for the red tam o’shanter. If Aunt
Miranda objected—but, then, when
one had golden hair no ob-
jections on the part of an Aunt
Miranda would turn it back to the
hated red.
“T'll write right away,” declared
Mary Ann as she spread out the
advertisement, “perhaps by next
week Mlle. De Puyten will send it,
and by the next week,’—and Mary
Ann fell to dreaming of golden hair
surmounted by a red tam o’shanter.
“Mary Ann, Mary Ann,” rose
Aunt Miranda’s shrill voice from
the foot of the stairs, “ come right
down this minute, Miss Blossom
has come to call. I declare if you
ain’t just like your ma always run-
ning upstairs and—”
“Tm coming Aunt Miranda,”
Mary Ann interrupted and she has-
tily packed away the cherished ad-
vertisement and the crisp dollar
bill into the bureau drawer, for
when company came Mary Ann
must appear.
Mary Ann never questioned this
rule, It was as understood as the
rule that her sun bonnet be hung
on the first nail behind the kitchen
door, never the second. Aunt Mi-
randa’s rules were never questioned
by anyone.
“Theirs not to reason why
Theirs but to do or die.”
was understood where Aunt Mi-
randa was concerned.
“Land sakes,” cried } Blos-
som, a tall thin faced woman,
“Ain’t Mary Ann grown. How
like her ma she looks. Them’s her
ma’s eyes to the very shade, but
you never can tell how she'll turn
out” (here Miss Blossom sighed,
but quickly continued), “ she ain’t
sickly a bit.’ Now when I was—”
“ Her pa’s brother-in-law was al-
ways that healthy and never had to
consult a doctor till his death, and
then the doctor never reached
the bedside till he had passed
away,” interrupted Aunt Miranda
solemnly.
“How some folks is blessed, I
passed through many complaints at
Mary Ann’s age, ma thought as
how I'd be buried in my youth, but
I picked up considerable after join-
ing the church. I always did say
the good thrived. Now I’ve just
come from a charitable errand.
Down at the Hollow, Mrs. Black,
her that just moved in,—poor as
a church mouse, is taken down sick
and her children are about starved.
When I look at Mary Ann and
think of those poor sickly children
it brings tears to my eyes.”
Miss Blossom here slowly drew
a handkerchief from her belt and
carefully wiped her eyes then con-
tinued.
“T took down my old black pray-
er book,” she said impressively, “and
now I’m going to all the neighbors
for donations. Susan Hayden, her
that is so flighty you know, was
shocked by the pitiful story I told.
She gave her old pink dress, real
silk, and an old pair of real patent
leather shoes for one of the chil-
dren. The giddy ones ain’t always
so bad and the sensible ones ain’t
always so good. Mary Ann, now
wouldn’t you like to make a dona-
tion?” she said suddenly.
Mary Ann started. Her crisp
new dollar bill seemed to dance be-
fore her mind. But she couldn’t
give that. No one would expect
it. Aunt Miranda would give
something, perhaps some of Mary
Ann’s own calico dresses. She
wanted that dollar—O so much.
Hadn’t she earned it? And her red
hair!—she would have to keep that
for no one knows how long, per-
haps till next year, Oh, she
couldn’t do it!
“Don’t you want to Mary Ann?”
exclaimed Miss Blossom sharply.
“Well I do say that some folks
are—
12 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE
“T will,” interrupted Mary Ann
slowly. “I will go right now and
get it.” She turned quickly and
left the room.
Again from the bureau drawer
she drew the dollar with the adver-
tisement and the golden haired
beauty. The golden haired beauty
smiled. From the glass flamed the
red locks of Mary Ann,
“T can't! Oh I can’t!” cried
Mary Ann a great lump coming in
her throat. ‘I just can’t!”
The golden haired beauty still
smiled. Why couldn’t Miss Blos-
som have waited till to-morrow,
the dollar would then have been
gone. Why must Mrs. Black be
ill and the children starving just
then? Mary Ann felt as if she
hated them, and somehow she felt
as if she must give that dollar bill.
She looked at her flushed face in
the glass, at her hair.
“Mary Ann you're a pig,—noth-
ing but a pig, a selfish pig! What's
red hair to starving, perhaps,
too, they have red hair—red hair
the shade of their second cousin on
their ma’s side.”
Mary Ann choked down the lump,
shut her eyes on the golden hair
beauty, grasped the dollar, and ran
down stairs.
“Miss Blossom here's a dollar
for that family—and please don’t
thank me,” choked Mary Ann and
fled, leaving the dollar in the aston-
ished Miss Blossom’s lap.
im ako eam leg O lh oe eI aky bak
Miss Blossom’s sharp voice
floated up to the hall above.
“Mary Ann’s getting to be a
real handsome girl. That painter
man down at the inn says as how
her hair’s the purtiest shade he
ever saw.”
Mary Ann lifted her head from
her arms and gasped in pleased
surprise.
“ Her second cousin on her ma’s
side,” chimed in Aunt Miranda,
“had just such hair but her pa’s
folks’ hair was — ”
Mary Ann heard no more. From
the bureau drawer she drew the
advertisement with the golden
haired beauty, and a few minutes
later what remained of the adver-
tisement of Mlle. De Puyten’s hair
bleach floated out of the open
window to the ground below.
‘09.
“My soul is a _ lighthouse
keeper,” wrote Ella Wheeler Wil-
cox in a poem, and she was aston-
ished to read the printer’s version
when it came out in a periodical—
“ My soul is a light housekeeper.”
i —Ex.
A German peddler rapped timid-
ly at the kitchen entrance. Mrs.
Kelly, angry at being interrupted
in her washing, flung open the door
and glowered at him.
“Did yez wish ter see me?” she
demanded in threatening tones.
The peddler backed off a few
steps.
“Vell, if I did,” he assured her
with an apologetic grin, “ I got my
vish ; thank you.”—Ex,
“When I was once in danger
from a tiger,” said an old East In-
dian veteran, “TI tried sitting down
and staring at him, as I had no
weapon.” “How did it work?”
asked a bystander. “ Perfectly ;
the tiger didn’t even offer to touch
me,” ‘ Remarkable! How did you
account for it?” “Well, sometimes
I’ve thought it was because I sat
down on a branch of a tall tree.”
“What was the Python?” some-
one asked,
“Great snake,”
reply.
came the laconic
“ THE CRIMSON AND WHITE 13
The
CRIMSON and WHITE
Vol. V. Atpany, N.Y., Octonur, 1908 No. 1
Published Every Two Months during the
School Year by the students of the N. H. 8.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION
One year (5 copies) payable in advance, $0.60
Singlecopies - > - = 5 = as
BOARD oO EDITORS
Eprtor-1v-ciunr
Grace Gonprins, 'o9
Jessie Lu
Edna Bender, ‘09
Mary Gauger,'10 = 0 - =
Ruth Thompson, ‘09 ~~
Julia MacElory, 'oo + + Alumnt Editor
Helen Horton, '09 = == Exchange Editor
Arthur Wilson, '00 = |=
William H. Thomson, "11
Harold Goewey, "10 -
Clarence Ostrander, 'o9 SRL ing
‘Thomas Clary,"1r'- f Agents
itor
Editorials
‘Through these columns we wel-
come back the old members of Nor-
mal and extend our heartiest greet-
ings toward the new. Vacation
days are over and a year of work
commence: Tt is for us to do the
work which is before us in the best
way possible. The work which is
done now means a preparation for
the work in our future life. Every
task which we shirk will make us
less capable, every task that we
master, more capable of doing that
work, The coming year, however,
will not be all hard work for we
are sure to find pleasures mingled
with it,—pleasures which we shall
be able to enjoy all the more if we
do the work to be done in the right
spirit; not because we are made to
do it, but because it is there to do
and it is our duty to do it. Let us
make the year one of the busiest
and happiest years of our school
life.
We note with pleasure the res
tration of the Freshman class which
exceeds that of any other class in
the school. We hope it will always
remain as large as it is now for we
are sure there is quality as well as
quantity in the class.
A school paper does not mean
“A little time and a little money,”
far from it. It means rather a
great deal of time and plenty of
money. So, readers remember this
in criticizing the first issue of THE
Crimson any Wut The staff
will try to do its best, but please
for your part give a little en-
couragement—a_ big subscription
list, an interest in the paper and a
hearty response on your part when
asked to contribute towards the
paper.
Alumni
‘02
abeth Shafer
Normal teachers.
Mary Hart is principal of the
Grammar Department in St. John’s
School.
Ethel Taber wa
is one of the
§ married on
Sept. 24, at Washington, D. C.
05
M Laura Mega has accepted
a position as teacher at Slinger-
lands,
Miss Mabel Rockefeller is teach-
ing in Valatie High School.
Miss Winifred Goldring has re-
turned to Wellesley as a senior.
Miss Florence Jennings is teach-
ing at Delmar,
'07
Miss Katherine Parsons has re-
turned to Wellesley.
Mr. Edward O'Connel is playing
right guard on Union's football
team.
Mr. George Weaver has returned
to Union.
08
Miss Gertrude Valentine has en-
tered Vassar.
Miss Adele Ie Compte has en-
tered Normal College.
{
j
14 THE CRIMSON
Mr. Wiswell has entered Union
College.
Mr; Fuller expects to enter Yale
next year.
Miss Mary Gilboy has entered
the Cohoes Training School.
Miss Ethel Evringham is attend-
ing Normal College.
Miss Beth Cobb has entered Sy-
racuse.
School Notes
Helen ‘Taylor ‘10, has left school.
Anna Read ‘10, is at the Girls’
-\cademy.
Margery Richmond ‘10, has left
school.
Florence Griffith ‘11, is at the
AGIEDSS:
Mr. Becker 'og, has left school.
Carle Wehrle ’o9, is studying for
an electrician.
Anna Keenholts ’o9, has left
school.
Clarence Boynton ’o9, is attend-
ing the Albany Business College.
Mr. Miller is visiting in the
West.
Mr. Fenster ‘og, has returned to
the Albany High School.
Katherine Desparts, Waterford
High School, has entered the Class
of "10.
Ruth Williamson ’1o, is attend-
ing the Girls’ Academy.
Nora Carroll 'o9, is at the A.
ES?
Mr. Thorne ’o9, has left school.
Alice Fix ’11, has left school for
a year,
Effie Van Wie ‘10, has left
school.
Marian Sybrandt ‘og, is attend-
ing the Emma Willard School.
Harvey Penrose 'og, has left
school.
Jean Elmendorf ‘10, is attend-
ing the Girls’ Academy.
Leslie Wheeler ‘10, is attending
Anite !S:
Frank Smith, A. H. S., is taking
a special course in the N. H. S.
AND WHITE
Society Notes
The Theta Nu Society com-
menced its active work at the first
regular meeting held this year.
Several new plans have already
been perfected for the coming year
and will undoubtedly prove a great
suc as well as a benefit and
enjoyment to its members. The
literary work of the society is con-
stantly improving and the meetings
are both instructive ‘and eftertain-
ing to the members.
The Society regrets very much
that circumstances render it neces-
sary for it to lose seyeral of the
most active members, but is con-
soled by thé fact that all are pur-
suing a noteworthy cause.
Although several of the members
can no longer take an active part
in the Society’s work which is being
planned they are cordially invited
to attend the meetings whenever
an opportunity affords.
On October seventh, Messrs.
Fuller and Fenston attended the
regular meeting and were given a
hearty welcome by all those present.
Zeta Sigma
On September _ twenty-second,
Misses Kathryn Parsons, Welles-
ley and Adele Le Compte, Normal
College, attended the meeting of
Zeta Sigma Society. Miss Par-
sons being asked to address the
members, gave some very valuable
advice.
On October second, Zeta Sigma
gave its annual spread to the Fresh-
men. Youthful games were played
and after refreshments a_ short
musical and literary program was
rendered, Those taking part were
Misses O'Connor, Allen, Suther-
land and Luck.
i THE CRIMSON AND WHITE 15
The duty of the Exchange is
often misunderstood. It is not to
unfairly criticize or “knock” an
exchange as a few are inclined, but
merely to point out the weak points,
and to suggest something beneficial
for that paper. Although it is en-
couraging to have our paper
praised, still we are aware of our
good points and desire only help-
ful criticisms, in order to make
further improvements.
About all of our Exchanges pub-
lish the first edition in October,
consequently we have very few this
month.
What has happened to the “liter-
ary” department “ Prrnies?” It
is not up to the usual standard.
Your paper would have a better
appearance if the Aps were kept in
one part, and not scattered amongst
the reading matter,
High School Critic—with so
large an editorial staff it seems
rather inconsistent that your paper
is so “small.” It is very hard for
a paper to exist without a literary
editor. For a commencement num-
ber there should be at least one
good story. “Class Statistics” is
very cleverly arranged.
Every department of the Weekly
Elgin H. S. Mirror, is complete.
Tt shows hearty co-operation on the
part of its editors, and is a splendid
example of what school spirit can
do.
Crimson and White of Glou-
cester. It is a very simple matter
to print the list of Exchanges and
call it the “Exchange Column.”
Take a little extra time and criticize
those same papers, and see what a
help you will be. Your literary and
other departments are very good.
Tiger, Cal. School of Mechani-
cal Arts, comes nearest the.‘ per-
fect mark” of any paper yet re-
ceived. Each department is com-
plete and the cuts are excellent.
They add greatly to a school paper.
Your cover of the September issue
is especially good.
Heard in Chemistry Class
Ostrander—Professor, why would
the death of “ Wood” be a chemi-
cal change?
Prof. Bronson—Why — Mr.
Ostrander there are various rea-
sons. What would you say about
it?
Mr. Ostrander—Well, I don’t like
to say anything, but you said that
burning wood was a
change,
chemical
In Virgil class—“And they lis-
tened attentively with ears erect ?—
I wonder if “Venus” consulted
the Trojan horse,
18 THE CRIMSON AND WHITE
A Drama in One Act
Scene—Jim Edward’s bed cham-
ber.
Jim—Fast asleep, dreaming of
happy days gone by when vacation
was on.
Time—1.30 A. M.;
masked man with a gun.
Jim (awakening) Aw, what do
you want?
Burglar (laconically) Money!!!!
Jim (much awake now) Now
you're talking. Light the gas, and
Tl help you.
enter a
Curtain—
In Ye Days of Olde
One evening Adam was making
love to Eve, but she seemed dis-
satisfied.
“What is troubling my darling?”
he asked.
“Oh, Addie dear,” she sighed,
“Tf I could only convince myself
that I am the only woman you ever
loved !”—Ex.
Rensselaer
g e polytech nice,
tegen Institute, ”
‘ng "Troy, N.Y~
Local examinations provided for. oy for acatalogue.
The Freshman Viewpoint
The Sophomores ignore us,
The Juniors endure us,
The Seniors disdainfully smile.
But that don’t annoy us,
We're happy and joyous,
We're bound to be there after
awhile.
Prof. Sayles—‘“‘ My wife can
drive nails like lightning.”
Prof. Decker—“ You don’t mean
it?”
Prof. Sayles—“Sure I do.
Lightning, you know seldom strikes
twice in the same place.”—Ex.
Are Seniors in love with Latin
Prose?
Ask Miss Cook for I guess she
knows.
Is the Seniors’
good?
Miss Clement could tell, if she only
would.
English always
EDWARD LOEB, Ph. G.
Pbarmacist
ACCURACY AND PURITY
326 Clinton Ave. Cor. N. Boulevard, Albany, N. Y.
William H. Luck
PICTURE FRAMES
Framed Pictures
67 S. Pearl St., Albany, N. Y.
W. F. ANTEMANN & SON
JEWELERS AND GOLDSMITHS
Medals and Society Pins to Order one of our Specialties
FINE REPAIRING
WATCHES AND JEWELRY
21 North Pearl Street
~ Please mention “The Crimson and White.”
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FOR ALL OCCASIONS
No better Gift can be suggested than a dainty piece of Gold Jewelry or a Silver
Toilet or Manicure Set from the Jewelry Shop of
R. P. THORN & SONS
9 North Pearl Street Albany, N. Y.
McClure & Cowles
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The famous Angelus Players and Player Pianos
6% North Pearl St. Y. M. C. A. Bidg.
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s4Central Avenue - - ALBANY,N. ¥. Cor. Lark and Jay Sts,
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ALBANY’S BEST
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CORNER SOUTH PEARL AND BEAVER STS., ALBANY, N. Y.
WY TEN looking for a New Suit, look
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STEEFEL BROTHERS
78-82 State Street Albany, N. Y.
Please mention “The Crimson and White.”
