The Echo Volume 21 Number 9, 1912 May

@THeE-ECHO=

= THE-ECrHO=

MAY, 1912.
ALBANY, : : : : NEW YORK
Table of Contents. x

PAGE

Niiteraty Department sy. cciccc =e ie ele le 383
DAS INGMAIMISCENC Cn mr mae vite seem see) susn neat se 385
Mies OMI ME Woler cms. cue ontime ureter Pcie G 389
What is so Rare as a Day in June?........ 392
The Last Day of School............ peu bag BEE

The Skater and the Wolves.:...........+. 397
From a Sophomore’s Diary ............ .. 400
The Plain Story of a Plain Girl........... 402

The Valley of Beautiful Dreams.......... 404
Donald Se wearoolin as sree set ceeeen etree 405
Editorial Department (5-26) cnee soc oe 413
News Department ..........-. WO HON OS GE ONES 414
Alumni Depastment-« si as ates ee ee 423
From Minerva’s Point of View................ 424

sahil Te pa e es

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‘body and interested alumni,

Address all business communications to the business manager, 800 Madi-
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Et i ee CAG) .

BOARD OF EDITORS
Editor-in-Chief
Hartey P. Coox

Assistant Editor
EvizasetH G. Scorr

MarRsory BENNETT,
Karerva Van Dyrox,

Lit Dae ETHEL EVERINGHAM, awe
atera . t mn 5
' eee: Karwarine Kinng, i eet

SamueEL HAyrorp,
ANNA BOOCHEVER,

Howaxp B. DaBney,

N Dept.
GERTRUDE WELLS, } es

t Adver, Dept.

Business Manager.
Leia FARNHAM,

Circulating Manager. Harorp W. Gorwey, l EEA
‘eptu fe

J. Harry Warp, Jessm Core, (ee ee
XXIT. MANY, 1912. No. 9

Literary Department.
DREAMS.

Beneath the kindly shade of the newly adorned maple, a
wee tired figure lay curled upon a soft grassy bank. The
fresh green leaves above him rustled in time to the pulses of
a gentle spring breeze, and a jolly little brook babbled compli-
ments to the vain cowslips, admiring themselves in its pools.
All around was enchantment, while Bobby lay and dreamed.
When he was a man, a great soldier he would be, and dressed.
in a lovely blue uniform with big, shiny, brass buttons, he
384 Tue Ecno.

would ride before a big, big army upon a snow-white horse.
Fighting hard with the “sand-man,”’ Bobby gazed across the
meadow, where each cowslip became a soldier, and the scatter-
ing buttereups were generals.
* * * * * * *
With his feet upon the fender of the open fire-place the
student lounged in a large morris chair. In his lap lay a
bunch of roses. The gas burned low, and the soft light faintly
illumined the pictures and banners on the walls. Through the
open windows a warm June wind and patches of moonlight in-
truded. The future lawyer sat dreaming. Success and fame
seemed quite within his grasp that night, and through the thin,
soft haze of his cigarette smoke he gazed at a girl’s picture on
the mantle.
* * * * * Sige *
In a modern office the middle-aged business man sat before
his desk. A green-shaded lamp protected his features and left
in dim outline long rows of books, rising one above the other
from floor to ceiling. At brief intervals gusts of November
wind, like unseen messengers of winter, shook the window and
howled about the building. The evening paper had dropped
from the lawyer’s hand and lay beside the chair, while leaning
far back with his feet on the desk, the tired man surrendered
to dreams. The years had left their token, and he no longer
thought of himself as a genius with the world at his feet. Be-

fore him flitted the crowded court room, in which he must play
his part on the morrow.

* * * * * * *

The logs crackled briskly in the old-fashioned fire place, and
their flames lighted up lovingly the face of the old man. Now
dying down, now bursting up afresh, the fire light caressed the
long silvery hair and the shadows played gently over the strong,
{tender face. Snowflakes were beatng fast and hard against
the window-panes, and the wind whistled a loud monotonous
Tue Ecno. ; 385

chorus in the chimney. Memories flooded the mind of the old
gentleman seated comfortably in the big rocking chair, and,
looking intently into the fire, he lost himself in reverie.

The smoke from a long, crooked-stemmed pipe curled lightly
toward the ceiling and the bright old eyes turned to gaze
through it at the portrait of a bride. Suddenly he turned his
head and glanced at the sweet face and silver hair of his com-
panion. ‘“ What’s the matter Robert?” she asked, ‘“ Oh! noth-
ing, mother,” was the tender reply,” it’s only those dreams.

J. Harry Warp, 1914.

A REMINISCENCE.

The sinking of the Titanic and all the conflicting reports I’ve
heard make the night of November 12, 1894, as vivid as if it
had been last night. That was before the days of the wireless.
Tn those times a trip to the “ operating room ” was not a remedy
for ennui. We did not cluster round to see the blue spark, hear
the click-click, and the latest baseball bulletins in the little cabin
astern cn the hurricane deck.

Gray, monotonous days were those, as the Atlanta slipped
through a dull, glistening sea. Fog was everywhere. London
mists, left two weeks ago, were smoky and murky and warm from
the human creatures groping there. But this was the fog of the
sea — gray and cold, with the chill of emptiness. Mile after
mile we glided through the silent sea. To me, as a relief, comes
only the memory of the throb of the ship, the dimmed, glimmer-
ing lightheads burning day and night, the slippery decks, and.
fhe warm smokestacks on the hurricane deck against which we
snuggled. In the evening we used to go forward to watch the
helmsman, and the great compass in its brass case, or climb to
the deck, lee in the very prow stood the lookouts. Silent
886 ‘Tur Econo.

men they were, who never unbent to chat with curious passen-
gers. With visor caps pulled forward, collars turned up and
hands thrust deep in their pockets, immovable they stood, with
ever-watchful eyes ranging the darkness ahead. Occasionally
one man would turn and eall, “ Light, sir — south by sou,’ sow’
west, sir.’ “Aye, aye, sir,’ would come the hoarse reply from
above.

One night toward the close of our voyage we were rather
put to it for something to while away the time, so we clambered
into the life-boats. Soon the fog grew dense and a light rain
began to fall, when an officer, running aft in oilskins and
sow’ wester, told us in curt surprise to “get out of that boat,
quick.”

Regretfully we descended to the grand saloon, where a girl
was playing Wagner in a sketchy fashion, Speedily we with-
drew to the library, a comparatively small cabin ’tween decks.
‘Seated on wide leather sofas heaped with many pillows, we soon
became absorbed in last month’s magazines. After about five
minutes a bell boy popped his head in the doorway, looked
around with not too eager eyes inquiringly responsive, and dis-
appeared. The door banged again — all doors bang aboardship.
After another mild roll of the Atlantic, which had had more
motion since the rain, as was quite to be expected, for we were
nearing shallower waters, the bell boy’s red head put in an-
other appearance. Just as, from the opposite:side of the cabin
I noticed this, the Atlantic heaved with surprising force, the
boy released his hand, lightly grasping the door handle, and
made a full bow, that was more of a sprawl into the room. At
the same moment I sank back on my pillows with a thud,
plunged forward and knelt on the floor with the pillows above
me.

“Hi, yi,” yelled the bell boy, “ you done it.” ‘As he stag-
gered up, and helped me to regain my equilibrium I followed
his extended finger. On the wall where I had been supporting
Tue Ecno. ‘ 387

the pillows was an electric push bell. This accounted for the
bell boy’s repeated presence.

Five hours later I awoke in the night. Did you ever sud-
denly wake to hear the pulse of the ship’s engines, the swirl and
moan and splash of the waves beating against the boatside, to
feel the constant quiver of the whole craft and the cradling rise
and dip of the billows? Instinctively I had come to know these
feelings, so when I suddenly found myself staring round the
dimly lighted state room I wondered why — and then I knew
that I heard no throb, felt no quiver, heard no pulse — but in-
stead I was deafened by a great, continuous roar. I was shiver-
ing so that I could hardly lean over the edge of the berth to call
my mother. At the first whisper she started up. As I was turn-
ing on the light I heard voices and footsteps on the deck above.
I opened the door into the corridor. Dimly lighted, with every
white door closed, all was still there but for the banging door
that opened on the deck.

As five minutes later, we ran along the hall, several heads ap-
peared in doorways, with mumbling lips and staring eyes, awak-
ened from sleep. On deck all was black and cold, and the fog
was whiter than ever. The boom was very loud and someone
cried “ Surf!” ‘We stumbled down to the next deck. A crowd
of passengers was running to the ship’s side and back to the
cabins. I went down the slippery slope, and then it was that I
noticed that the Atlanta listed toward the right. I looked down
upon water perilously close, white, churning, eddying, angry,
greedy water, washing over jagged rocks, as if it were foam on
black fangs. We were aground.

Women were crying, men shouting hoarsely, children wailing,
‘seamen ordering. I moved toward the other side of the ship. A
life boat nearly filled was being lowered. An officer seized me
to thrust mein. ‘ My mother,” I cried and he pulled me back.
Ten minutes later another life boat, partly filled with passen-
888 Tue Econo.

gers and with men from the crew, and with mother and myself
erowded in the bow, sank down, down into the black waters.

Among dark crags we drifted, with fifteen in our little boat.
I remember, to keep from thinking, I began to count, and al-
ways the number was different, for the faint. light of a single
lantern was often rendered useless by the waves of salt water
that dashed over us all. I remember wondering whether the
girl seated on my lap was shivering as much as I was. Then an
old woman — I could tell by her voice — began to sing a hymn,
a regular dirge, which I have disliked ever since. The life boat
perceptibly lowered in the water. Suddenly a man with a voice
inclined to go off the key struck up “ Dixie,” and how we joined
in!

The fog seemed suddenly to grow much thinner, and we saw
a faint light brandished and heard far-off haloos. In reply we
were yelling with all our might — when we redoubled, if such
a thing were possible, the force of our cries. Scrunch went the
boat and tore with a rasping, hideous sound. The next moment
we were all in icy water up to our shoulders. I remember feel-
ing chokingly glad that there were no children in our boat. In
a moment despaid became hope, for five yards away one of the
erew had stumbled on a rocky ledge only a couple of feet beneath
water. Towering above us there, that man became our leader.
Over the treacherous rocks, among eddies, sullen pools and
erevices, we picked our way. Shall I ever forget it? But
through our fears and terror, groping and stumbling and re-
newed effort, surged up thankfulness, for always the water grew
shallower, until finally, when the dawn gave light to guide us,
we were crossing a plateau of partly dry ledges. Then we women
did a very foolish thing — we all burst out crying. Many of us
knelt, too, but I can’t vouch for the coherence of our prayers.

“Oh, come, come,” cried the man who had struck up
“ Dixie ” and who was wringing out his coat, “ you’re glad we’re
here, aren’t you? We’re alive, remember that.” Whereupon
Tue Ecuo. 389

we wept afresh, but soon dried our tears, when hot water
flavored with chopped peppermints — carried by the old lady of
the dirge, who had her advantages — was doled out in the two
whiskey flasks.

When the other boatloads, arriving by a roundabout way, ap-
peared, we were able to sing, and when, after trudging all morn-
ing, we saw smoke in the distance, we all whistled — we were
too hoarse to sing!

Mavp Matcoms, 1915.

THE OLD BUGLER.

It was Memorial Day. It was evident that the people had
risen to the occasion and were celebrating it well, for early we
were awakened by the boom of cannons and the crack of guns.
Perhaps it was because the village was situated on memorial
ground, not far from the very spot of Pickett’s assault, and the
place where Warren had taken his stand; perhaps it was the
sight of the old veterans, tottering along in their blue uniforms,
which fired the people with enthusiasm, but whatever it was. the
songs of Old Liberty rose clear upon the air, and flag after flag
was unfurled to the breeze.

Late in the afternoon we followed the crowd to the foot of
Warren’s statue, on Little Round Top, and mingling with the
other sightseers, tried to follow the events of those long-vanished
July days. As we stood there on the crest of the hill, an old
man in’ the blue uniform of the Grand Army of the Republic
toiled slowly up the hill-side and stationed himself near us. He
was muttering to himself, and so intent upon his own thoughts
that he did not perceive that we were near. The veteran’s lean
figure was erect; he thrust his stick under his arm and looked
down upon the battlefield, the wind playing softly in his gray
390 Tue Ecuo.

hair. Suddenly a wild look came into his bleared eyes, and he
grasped my companion’s arm, whispering:

“ Tt’s in the bugle! It’s in the bugle!”

“You were a soldier in this battle?” asked Joe, not under-
standing.

“JT was in many battles, young man. It’s the bugle that does
the mischief; pluck the heart out of the bugle and drum, and
men won't kill each other any more. Many a man I’ve bugled
down to death.”

He dropped his head upon his breast. A bird sang in the
thicket below. On the heights beyond a bugle sounded, faint, as
though from a far-off time. Silently the old man stood staring
into space; then again he began to speak, in the hoarse, broken
voice of age, but coherently, as though reciting an oft-told tale:

“We had a boy captain, with beautiful brown eyes, who had
left college to enter the army. That boy, with his handful of
cavalry, felt bigger than old Napoleon, and we were as proud of
him as he was of us. Early in the war we were sent out on a
scout along the Chickahominy, and were going back to our bri-
gade when we ran plump into some of the enemy’s cavalry that
had been out feeling our line. It was a great surprise on
both sides, but our captain only laughed and said,

“¢The charge, trumpeter!’

“T let go with the bugle, and we slappel into them right and
left. There was a bad mess for a few minutes, then back we
went with the gray boys at our heels. We fought up and down
the road, as though we were only playing a game; sometimes
we drove them and then they drove us. On our second dash I
felt my horse’s hoof plunk soft onto a dead man, and I remember
how queer it made me feel. Well, it was nearly dark when we
begun, and a good many of the boys had dropped out of their
saddles. I remember how the little moon hung over the trees
and the stars came out, but still our captain kept up the fight.
I thought the game would last forever, as we charged and
Tue Ecno. 891

wheeled and flung ourselves at the gray boys; and every time
we swung at them again there were more soft things where my
horse struck dead men. I have dreamed about that a thousand
times—the scared little moon, and the rattle of swords, and the
pounding hoofs, and the yells and the crack of pistols.* *  *
Well, we got the fort alright, but when we splashed through
to the other side there was only half of us left, and I felt sick
and giddy when I looked down and saw the little captain was
gone, and the lieutenant was riding by me where that brown-
eyed boy had been.

“That was only the beginning. I got hardened fast erough
but when the war was over, I used to wake up at night and try
to count up the men I had bugled out to die. Then I married
and had a home for a while, but my wife died and the good
times faded away, and now I never look back to anything but
just those days of the camp; and the bugle sings in my ears all
the time as though it was calling to the men I had sent into
battles where they died.”

“War's an ugly business, but then, somebody has to be
killed,” said Joe kindly, moved to pity by the veteran’s emotion,

“T dream every night that I’m on a high place,” he went on,
“and look down and see long lines of them marching. I know
it’s my turn to sound the trumpet but something sticks in my
throat when I try to blow and I can’t make a sound, and, as I
keep trying and trying, I wake up.”

He ceased as abruptly as he had begun, stared fixedly at
Joe and me for an instant, then slowly descended the hill. We
stood silently gazing after him, long after he was out of sight.

E. Lovisr Carmopy, 1915.
392 Tue Ecuo.

WHAT IS SO RARE AS A DAY IN JUNE?

Indeed, I know of naught rarer than a day in June, and
among all those rare days, I remember none as more rare than
the twentieth of June, nineteen hundred nine. At just ten
o'clock of that morning, we embarked on a little launch and
gayly stowed away our various possessions. The engine chugged
regularly; we swung away from the dock and headed our boat
down the channel and away. The water sparkled in the sun
and the little waves were like ruffles with white frills to edge
them. The brisk wind was in our faces and all of us were
exhilarated with the thought of the pleasant day before us. On
we sped for three swiftly passing hours, and then we shaped
our course for a narrow, mountain-enclosed inlet about forty
miles from home.

Thus far on the trip I had been steering, but now I relin-
quished the wheel to a more experienced navigator, and clam-
bered upon the top of the boat. Did you ever steer a launch,
I wonder? <A real boat that goes by an engine? It gives you
‘such an important feeling when it obeys your slightest turning
of the wheel. JI remember when I was a youngster, an old cap-
tain on a big coast steamer let me help turn the huge wheel,
and I believe I grew an inch in those few minutes. But that
did not happen on a June day, so it hardly belongs in our story,
does it?

After some careful maneuvering to avoid numerous rocks, we
anchored near the rocky shore and disembarked by means of a
little rowboat which we had towed down. Wescrambled along the
rough, wood strewn beach until we found a patch of soft clean
sand, and there we built our camp fire for lunch. It was al-
most two o’clock, and we were ravenously hungry from the keen
salt air, so the bacon and beans, bread and butter and jam, hur-
riedly fried potatoes and hot coffee, tasting deliciously of sweet
wood-smoke, were more than palatable, while the beautiful scen-
Tur Ecno. : 393

ery detracted nothing from the enjoyment of ourlunch. Infront
of us lay the water, blue from the clear sky, except where the
dull green of the pine-wooded mountains was distinctly re-
flected. The shore line was rough and broken; black rocks ran
boldly out into the water, while here and there darker splotches
on the face of the cliffs showed where the waves had cut fas-
cinating little grottoes in the rock, fit to be the dwelling place
of mermaids fair.

We stretched lazily out upon the sand and looked to our
hearts’ content; then we found a little trail leading back into
the woods, and, curious as children, we followed it into the
shades. Through a pine forest it led, barred here and there
by a fallen tree trunk, fringed with the lacy, gray-green tree-
moss, or crossing little marshy plains, where our rubber boots
sank into the soft, black mire. The ground and the old stumps
were padded with soft moss six inches deep, making a fluffy,
‘eushiony covering, and here and there bright yellow “ snapper-
jacks” lifted their brave little heads. Soon a merry stream
followed beside our trail as if to keep it company, and more
than once we caught a silvery gleam, betraying the presence of
a shy little brook trout. By and by we came to an old deserted
-eabin, its log walls falling in decay and its roof almost entirely
carried away by the storms. We sat on its fallen logs to rest
for a time and wondered what prospector had lived there in
olden days, and what had become of him. Had he panned out
gold in the rusty pan one of us picked up, gold washed down by
the little brook, or had he, too, failed, as many before him, and
‘departed to a more profitable scene? At last we started back
in the cool woods, and all too soon we reached the shore, where
a little, wavering column of smoke told us our camp fire was
still burning.

The tide was coming in, and the rays of the late afternoon sun
fell slantingly, penetrating every crack and crevice of the rock-
‘bound shore. Two of us decided to try our luck as fishermen in
394 Tut Ecuo.

the mouth of the brook, and we were rewarded with four large
salmon trout. Overjoyed with our success, we coated them with
flour and salt, wrapped them in many thicknesses of newspaper,
and buried them in the hot sand under our fire. In about an
hour they were baked to perfection, and our supper was ready.
‘When this was over, we climbed aboard our ship once more and
set out for a bay about fifteen miles farther on.

The trip was perfect, for, in the light Alaskan summer, the
sun does not set until nine o’clock, and at about eight o’clock
we reached our final destination. Here we engaged in the seem-
ingly prosaic occupation of angling for crabs. It is really a
very amusing sport. You take a long, strong fish line with a
large hook attached, place a huge chunk of bait upon it, and
then, going into shallow water, hunt up a crab. Dangle the bait
enticingly in front of his nose until he begins to sit up and take:
notice — figuratively speaking — let him get a good start and
swallow the bait, hook and all. He will invariably close his
claws about the line and then, with great caution, you can pull
him up and detach him. I suppose that sounds like rather a
tame procedure, but a crab is a very artful and deceiving crea-~
ture, and you can never feel sure of him until he is safely.
stowed away. So it is quite exciting, after all.

‘When we had enjoyed this for some time, it grew dark, and’
as none of us were sleepy, we built a monstrous bonfire of drift-
wood, and, sitting in the weird semi-darkness, lightened only
by the climbing flames, we told stories, some sad, some humor-
ous, until at last we knew we must start home. We entered the-
boat rather wearily, I think, but wholly satisfied with our day.

Never shall I forget that night’s trip. It was after eleven
when we rounded the curve of the shore and lost sight of our
blinking camp fire, and the steady “chug chug” of our engine
was the only sound which broke the stillness. We slipped
swiftly through the smooth, oily water, and the full moon rose,
making a golden path for us to follow, broken only by the gentle
Tur Econo. 895

swells from our boat, The stars showed bright at first, then more
wan as the moonlight grew more clear. The snow-capped moun-
tains threw huge, grotesque shadows across the way, and their
white peaks gleamed weirdly in the pale light. But as we drew
near the lights which stood for home, the dawn appeared, its soft
colors banding the eastern sky, and gradually the moon van-
ished, driven away by the approach of day, until, as we passed
close along the shore, a sleepy bird greeted us with a throaty
song.

At last we climbed the hill to our little house, weary, yet
somehow rested by the perfect day, and, looking at our watches,
we saw that it was three o’clock, and all was well.

Hexen T. Denny, 1915.

THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL.

It was five minutes past four in the afternoon of the last day
-of May. The last session of school was over. The little school
room was almost deserted. Only the old master, and a few
‘children who were bidding each other good-bye, while they
gathered together their books, remained, In the school yard
‘others were getting last touch on one another, or exchanging
plans for the summer’s sport. To those children what a happy
moment that was! There would be no more study, no more
problems in mental arithmetic to solve, nor proofs in geometry
to learn. Vacation had just begun. Summer with all its idle
pleasures and pastimes was before them. Otuside, the green
fields, the bright sunshine, and the songs of the birds added to
those happy anticipations. In a few weeks the events of school
life, both pleasant and unpleasant, would be forgotten. How
smuch love for the old school master went away in the hearts of
396 Tux Ecuo.

those boys and girls on this, the last day of school, no one can
tell.

Within, the hands of the clock were already pointing to thirty
minutes past four. All had gone except the old teacher, who
had closed his four and twentieth year in the little school. To.
him the last day of school always had its touch of pathos. To
him it marked the close of one year, and yet did not announce
the advent of another. Buried in deep meditation, he still sat
in his accustomed place before the old desk, which bore the scars
of many hard raps from his stout ruler. This day he was more
reluctant than ever to break the tie with ‘a season that held for
him memories most pleasant. With regret he collected his few
books and prepared to leave. But he could not go. He let his
eyes wander about the deserted room, until they fell upon a few
mathematical figures that had been placed on the blackboard
during the day. These symbols had a deep meaning to him. In
them he read a history — a true record of all those twenty-four
years spent in helping scores of boys and girls to become better
citizens. This was not all. In those same characters he saw
the future. Tears came into his eyes. How he longed for one
more life. A strange feeling came over him. He walked back
to his desk and sat down. Through his dimmed eyes he scarcely
saw the blackboard. And yet the figures on it stood out bold
and distinct. A vision was passing before him. In this vision
the interpretation was quite clear. He felt himself standing on
the great divide between time and eternity. Hardly realizing
that, he was sinking down into his chair, he attempted to rise
and to step forth into the future that he saw before him. His
physical effort was in vain. The great divide was crossed, The

old schoo] master was dead.
OxarEencr A.. Hipiry, 1915.
Tue Ecuo. 397

THE SKATER AND THE WOLVES.

It was a clear, beautiful, moonlight night in winter. For
weeks past the mercury had failed to mount above the zero
mark. There had not been a great deal of snow, and conse-
quently the small arm of the Saskatchewan, which wound its
way through the forest past our house, had been transformed
into a glittering ribbon of ice. This particular night, which I
have great cause never to forget, the little river looked allur-
ingly beautiful. It sparkled as the brighest silver in the moon-
light, and a strong desire seized me to speed away on my skates
over its surface in the quiet night. I had done but little skating
that winter, for the work in the forest had been hard, and after
a long day’s work in felling, I was satisfied to rest comfortably
by our little fireside and talk over with mother and father the
fine plans we were making for the coming summer, when we
would leave our humble forest home and go back to the States
to live on a little farm, which our work here in the forest had
enabled us to buy.

But on this night a feeling of restlessness possessed me, and I
longed to be in solitary communion with the river and forest,
which I loved. They had been my companions of many years,
and I was at home with them anywhere. I was very fond of
skating, and usually took that exercise at night and alone, so,
when I appeared at the door of our living room, my skates over
my shoulder, and told the folks I was about to take a few hours’ ©
spin up the river father only smiled and mother cautioned me
to dress warmly, as the night was bitter cold. ;

I fastened on my skates, and with a whistle to let the folks
know I was off, I darted away into the ‘night, up the river. T
sped on and on, scarcely realizing the lapse of country I was
leaving behind me. I loved to hear the ring of my skates on the
ice, and to take long breaths in the brisk, fresh air, which sent
the warm blood tingling through my veins. I was passing
398 Tue Ecuo.

through a very dense strip of forest. The great trees stood
black and still, up to the very brink of the river, In their midst
it was dark night, but above me looked down the beautiful De-
eember moon, making my way light as day. The great bare
branches of the trees cast weird shadows over my path. No
breeze was stirring. All was still. Suddenly a low, blood-curd-
ling howl, coming from the depths of the forest on my right,
broke into the quiet night. This was followed by several simi-
lar howls, then again all was still. I had heard old settlers tell
of the fierce Canadian wolves, which at times had been known
to find their way down into this part of the forest, but during
all the years I had lived there I had not seen one. They had
been so rigidly hunted that they had kept off, up in the moun-
tain country. However, this winter had been so long and cold
that wild animals had been forced from their usual districts in
their search for food. I had heard of wolves being reported in
our district, but had paid little heed to the fact. But imme-
diately, as I heard those awful sounds in the forest, I knew
what they meant. I was not alone in the night, as I had
thought, but close in my neighborhood was a pack of deadly
enemies, thirsting, starving for food such as my body would
furnish. Once they were on my trail there would begin a race
for my life.

I turned swiftly on my skates and was about to swing out
down the river, when, not fifty rods above me, I saw three dark,
gaunt forms dart out onto the river from the forest and start in
my direction. The wolves were on my trail. I breathed a
prayer for strength and speed to escape my deadly pursuers. I
reckoned that I was at least five miles from home. Five miles!
Could I make it ahead of those three angry foes tearing down
the ice after me? Years of practice had made me a good skater,
and as I heard the howls of the wolves behind me I seemed to be
rushing on with superhuman strength. My one thought, as T
sped down the river, was of my skates. Were they going to
Tue Econo. 399

prove true? Upon them depended my safety, my very life,
One slip and I should be lost. I kept well ahead of the pack for
two, perhaps three, miles. Then I began to feel them gaining
upon me. I could hear their cries coming nearer and nearer.
My first great strength was beginning to wane, but on, on, T
must go. J was within a mile of home when the beasts
seemed to be at my very heels. In my terror I could feel their
hot breath against my cheek. I could hear their feet slipping
on the ice as they ran. Suddenly they all seemed to have fallen,
for I heard a thud and a scramble, then on again they came.
This retarded them somewhat and gave me another start ahead.
I was now almost home and could see the light mother always
left for me. Presently there came to my ear the weleome sound
of the baying of our two great dogs. They had heard the howls
of the wolves and were sending back their challenge. If father
would only release them! Scarcely had the thought entered my
mind when I heard the dogs give two loud yelps, and by that I
knew they had been set free. Father had heard the wolves and
the dogs, and divining my peril had sent the latter to my rescue.
‘As I neared the shore and clambered up the bank toward the
house our two noble dogs dashed by me and fell into deadly
combat with the wolves. My race was ended and I was saved.
Father followed after the dogs with his rifle, and in the morn-
ing, when I saw stretched on the river bank the three lifeless
forms of the wolves, their savage jaws, even in death, distended.
as if in readiness for the prey they had so nearly won, I bared

my head and gave thanks to God.
Exizasetn Drrznrx, 1914.
400 Tue Ecuo.

FROM A SOPHOMORE’S DIARY.

“Oct. 11, 1912. Gee, this being a sophomore is great. I’ve
had more fun to-day than at all the circuses I went to all the
time I was.a kid. I’m only keeping this book to win a bet from
the paterfamilias; but I guess for the sake of my posterity Pll
tell just a little of what we did to-day. __

“ First victim — Mr. Roger Anthony Graham, alias Ruth.
Ruth’s one of these goody-goody men, who use perfume, hair
tonic, and silk socks for every day diet. Maybe he wasn’t some
seared boy the night Dickson dressed up the skeleton and put it
in his bed. Fussy, pernickety old lady. He has ‘ positively re-
fused’ to wear one of those ‘ conspicuous’ freshman caps. We
warned him all right and he’s got himself to blame for any
trouble. That mucilage did stick like sixty, I bet he’ll wear
that cap of his until he’s soaked his head in warm water for
more than one hour. The next time he won’t be so quick to tell
who is boss around this establishment.

“Ha, ha, ha,— Max Johnson is a funny fellow. Never you
mind. He’s O K. Would make a fine center. He’s one of those
bashful, retiring people that we read about. And when he is in
the company of women! He wouldn’t even admit that she was
“one of nature’s agreeable, blunders.’ This morning we found
him running around loose. We captured him and started down
street with him. Then we met a girl, one of the kind who does
not mind things like that. Max did create an impression when
he was on his knees pledging fidelity and love to her through
time eternal. If that infernal cop hadn’t sént us along, land
only knows what would have happened. I think Max would
have fainted and had to have been carried off the field.

“ Just then Beany Rogers came around the corner, Chaucer
must have had him in mind when he said ‘So long were his
legges as a rake,’ or hoe, or something like that. Six feet three,
about as fat as a match, and very gentle and dignified. Darn it,
Tur Ecuo. 401

but I bet he’ll jump like a streak when he gets going. Well, we
bought two pounds of marshmallows, put him in the doorway
of the Ten Cent store, and had him give a marshmallow to every
woman and girl who entered. I almost died. Some women
thought he was crazy. ‘Poor fellow, and he’s so young and
handsome. But you can never tell, one kind old lady said.
Several thought that he had flats to let, and weren’t very tactful
in their attitude toward him. And that pretty Miss Smith
actually thought he was drunk. Oh dear, poor Beany, who'd
ever have thought it! After the candy was given out we all
went down to touch and then left for Vinedale to see the gen-
‘eral’s new yacht.

“Poor Mackensy. He’s the last fellow I’d ever expected
would get homesick. Great big six foot, two hundred pounder.
He’s been apparently having the finest time this month. Gets
his work, does field practice, and is all around fine. This after-
noon we were going past a field of cabbage and if Mac didn’t
stop right in the middle of a joke and put his head on the seat
ahead of him with a ‘boo-hoo, I haven’t seen a cabbage field
since I left home.’ Gee, it made your glasses get kind of misty.
It’s like stealing candy from a sick baby to make a fellow study
away from home when it affects him like that, Never mind,
cheer up, Mae, old fellow; the worst is yet to come.

“Well, four pages. That’s pretty good; but then I don’t
suppose I’ll write again for a week or two. Freshman banquet
to-morrow night. Jl bet my boots they won’t have it. At
least not while Gordon Brown is alive. Last year I got one
black eye and two loose teeth trying to defend our rights. This
year I’m willing to sacrifice my other eye and my remaining
teeth if necessary. Dad told me to be careful for the sake of
economy. It seems he can’t afford a funeral just now. Don’t
worry, Dad, I’m getting my work up so you won’t regret put-
ting me here. I’d be ashamed to sponge on you for the course

and then not make good. Aufwieder-schreiben.”
Eruen M. Rosz, 1915.
402 : Tue Ecno.

THE PLAIN STORY OF A PLAIN GIRL.

People generally have a decided dislike of these ordinary
stories. They remind one too much of the every-day life that
we all live. That is, most people dislike them; they want ex-
citement in a book. But to me the simple tales are the best, for
they are natural and true. And this one, which I am going to
tell you now about Abigail, is true.

When Abbie was extremely young, two days old, in fact, she
was brought to the Crandall Male and Female Orphan Asylum,
and left in charge of the tall, angular matron, Mrs. Jones.
Many and many a time afterward Abbie thought bitter thoughts
of the day that brought her within those gloomy walls of
“ charity.” About five minutes after the baby was left within
her domain Mrs. Jones got out her alphabetical list of Christian
and family names and proceeded to choose. Ever after it was
Abbie’s never-failing sorrow that she arrived in time to start
a new list of girl’s names beginning with “Abigail.” Her com-
panions and friends softened it a trifle by calling her “Abbie,”
but Mrs. Jones used her full name and added the “ beautiful ”
family name of “ Tripp.” “Abagail Tripp!” Poor child.

Abbie’s first memory of life was confused, but when she con-
sidered the conduct of the children whom she herself took care
of later, it became more distinct. She sat with the other little
children on one of the few patches of grass within the asylum’s
gray stone walls and tried to play. No doubt she had often
played within the building too. Then, when she reached her
fifth year the never-ending work began; light at first, but in-
creasing unbearably as the years passed on. At eleven years of
age she was a slim, quiet girl, with straight brown hair drawn
tightly back from a snub-nosed, freckled face, Her two beauties
were her big, gray eyes, heavily fringed with black lashes, and
her white, even teeth. Mrs. Jones declared that Abagail Tripp
certainly was “ mortal homely,” but her eyes had “a look.”
Tue Ecuo. 403

When Abbie was twelve something happened! At first
Abbie sang like a lark until— but that comes later. First, I
must tell you of the great happening. A lady came and offered
to adopt Abbie. She was in need of a “ likely girl to.help her,”
she said. It was evident from her choice which one she con-
sidered the likeliest. Abbie’s happiness was unbounded at the
thought of leaving the hated asylum. In her new home her lot
fell in pleasanter lines. She still had to work hard, it is true,
but she was free, free to wear her hair with ribbon bows and
to discard checked ginghams. She met other girls, she read
interesting books, and for two blissful years she was happy, su-
premely happy. And then, misfortune with black wings over-
took her again! Her father by adoption died and left his wife
but a pittance to live on. Abbie helped as best she could. She
kept the house, gave up good times outside with her girl friends,
and devoted herself heart and soul to the woman who had saved
her from life in the hated “home.” They took up dressmaking
to help with the small income, and worked day in and day out
to live. It was hard, never-ceasing labor, with very little pleas-
ure, but they tried to keep a smiling face to greet one another,
and I think they succeeded.

Then again, after six hard years another great happiness
overtook Abbie. She was engaged to be married! Her mother
was to live with the young couple, and for a time every-
thing looked bright. But Abbie’s life seemed to be too much
of a temptation for the black angel, and again he visited her
with misfortune. Abbie’s frail little mother had a stroke of
paralysis which left her a fretful invalid, fretful and unhappy
because of her own suffering, and because of her daughter’s
ruined life, for Abbie refused to marry. Perhaps you think
she did not do right to deny herself happiness, but I think she
was a heroine. She could not rightly burden a struggling young
man with a crippled mother. I am nearing the end of my
404. Tue Ecuo.

story, and I warn you it turns out naturally, not like story
books.

Abbie and her mother are alive to-day. They live in my own
village. Abbie works from morning until night to support her-
self and her invalid mother. The crippled woman is now en-
tirely helpless. Part of the time she is insane, and her weary
mind wanders back to the days of her youth. Abbie says she
may live and suffer for years to come, however much she longs.
for death. But the little orphan girl is uncomplaining. To me
her plain face is beautiful. She has been through a life of sor-
row and misfortune, but it has only purified and strengthened.
her faithful soul. And her face is transfigured by a light of
love and service.

No, this is not intended to be a tragedy. It is just “ the plain.
story of a plain girl.”

Louise H. Powers, 1915.

THE VALLEY OF BEAUTIFUL DREAMS.

In the valley of beautiful dreams,
Swept by the wind of sleep,
The drowsy moon scarce seems
Its. hourly watch to keep.
The hopes and the fears of men,
Love and passion and hate,
Rest in the dark world’s den,
Shut out from the dream world’s gate.
A haunting melodious air
Stirs the whispering trees,
Flows in cadences rare
Till it dies upon the breeze.
Tue Ecno. 405

And those that finally pass,
Lulled by this strange sweet sound,
Tread softly the moist warm grass,
Or rest on the cool soft ground.
In the valley of beautiful dreams
A happy wandering few
Walk by its murmuring streams,
‘And one of them, dear, is you!
Epite F. Casry, 1914.

DONALD’S BARGAIN.

Donald McQueen did just love hand-organs. When he was
only a little tad first learning to walk, he always ran to the win-
dow as fast as his wobbly little legs would carry him, if he
heard a hand-organ in the neighborhood; and even candy could
not tempt him away from the window until the hand-organ
went on down the street.

When Donald was a little older he liked to get a broad flat
piece of wood which he could drag around the house, and play
it was a hand-organ. He went from one room to another, pull-
ing his hand-organ after him, and stopping at certain places, to
turn an imaginary crank and to pour out the most wonderful
songs. Of course the music really came from “Donald’s own
throat, but it was easy enough to imagine it came from the hand-
organ. ‘Then he passed around a little tin cup, into which
everyone in the house had to put some money, not real money,
but just make-believe. Sometimes father put in a real penny,
and then Donald jumped up and down, and yelled like a wild
Indian, after-which he played another tune for father, just as
the real hand-organ men do.
LOG ee Tur Ecno.

If anyone asked Donald what he was going to be when he
grew up he always said: ore

“Tm goin’ to have a hand-organ an’ go ’round the streets
an’ play for money, when I get big. An’ I’m goin’ to have a
monkey, too. Ill come an’ play for you. D’you want me to?”

Then everyone laughed, and so Donald laughed too, though
he never could see just what there was to laugh at.

When Donald was six years old, “going on seven,” as he
would have said very proudly, he went over to Toady Cramm’s
house one day to play. Toady was sitting on the lowest step
of the porch, all bent over in a forlorn little heap. His sister,
two years older than Toady and Donald, sat on the top step,
rubbing her eyes mournfully, and nursing a battered doll.

“ Hello,” said Donald, “what's the matter?”

Toady, whose real name was Martin, answered, without look-
in up:

“ Ma’s cleaning house.”

His sister, Mary Rose, said never a word, but lugging the doll
closer, wiped her eyes on its faded dress.

“Come on an’ play, Toady,” said Donald.

“No,” answered Toady shortly.

“Why not?” asked Donald.

“Don’t want to,” said Toady.

“What are you goin’ to do?” said Donald.

“You can sit down here, Don,” said Mary Rose, who had
finally stopped washing the doll’s face with tears. ‘ Ma’s goin’
to give all our old playthings to the ashman,” she added, by way
of explanation of their dolefulness.

“Tet’s wait for a hand-organ,” said Donald, sitting down,
and looking as bright as he could on such a sad doorstep.

“Huh! I got a hand-organ of my own,” said Toady.

“You ‘ain’t,”’ said Don.

“T have too,” answered Toady, brightening up at the pros-
pect of something to quarrel about.
Tue Ecno. 407

“You ain’t. I never saw it,” said Don.

“ Tt’s been up in the store room a long time. Ain’t I gota
hand-organ, Mary Rose?” he said, appealing to his sister.

“ Ti’s half mine,” she answered. ‘“ Uncle Frank gave it to us
both together.”

“You gave me your half when I was sick last winter,” re-
torted Toady.

“T don’t care. It’s mine anyhow. You gave it back, and
anyhow now the ashman is goin’ to get it, an’ it won’t be no-
body’s.”

“Where is it?” asked Don.

“Out in the back yard,” said Mary Rose. ‘“‘ Want to see it?
Come on out an’ I’ll show it to you.” 4

The three children came down from the steps and ran through
the alley into the yard. In one corner was a pile of rubbish, old
carpet and matting, broken chairs, headless barrels, with the
staves half knocked in, and broken playthings. It was from this
rubbish heap that the sad doll had been rescued by Mary Rose.
It was because the doll had to come back to the rubbish heap
and be carried away by the ashman that Mary Rose had been
crying. ‘Among the discarded playthings was the hand-organ,
with a roll of records something like those on Donald’s Uncle
William’s player-piano.

‘Donald looked at the hand-organ curiously. It was a flat
wooden box, with a roll at each end, not much like the street
pianos, and smaller than the hand-organs on one leg that the
men with monkeys had. It looked a little bit like a hand-organ
he had once seen played by a woman sitting on the curb when
he was down town with his mother.

“ How does it work?” he asked.

Toady and Mary Rose showed him. One of the long strips
of paper full of little holes was unrolled and rolled up again on
the wooden spool at one end of the organ. One end was put in
the box and the crank was turned. Loud, wheezy notes broke
408 Tue Econo.

the quiet of the back yard. It sounded just like the gutter
woman’s hand-organ.

“T guess it’s in backwards,” said Toady. So the record was
taken out and turned around. After this, several others were
played. They were all pretty badly torn and sometimes got
stuck and had to be started over again. When Toady got tired
Donald began to play. He played the whole seven all over,
backwards and forwards, except one that wouldn’t go forwards
without tearing. That one he played twice backwards. When he
had finished Donald looked up, wistfully.

“ Gee, I wish I had a hand-organ like this. Fd take it out on
the street an’ play it.”

Toady became a man of business at once.

“Tl sell it to you for ten cents.”

“You've got to give me half,” said Mary Rose, looking up
from the sad doll she was hugging again.

“T ain’t got ten cents, unless I break my bank, an’ Mamma
wouldn’t let me do that,” sighed Donald.

“Don’t tell her, Don,” suggested Toady.

“Oh! I wouldn’t dast not tell her,” answered Don.

“ T’ll give it to you for five,” said Toady, like a good business
man.

“T ain’t got five cents, neither,” said Don, gloomily. Then
he looked up hopefully. “Vl tell you what VIl do, though.
Tl take it out and play it, and get some money, and then I'll
pay you.”

Toady agreed to this, so the two boys picked up the hand-
organ between them and started out through the alley. Mary
Rose followed with the rolls of paper.

When they reached the street Toady turned to his sister.

“You can’t go, Mary Rose. Give me the records.”

“T can too go. There’s always a woman witha hand-organ.”

“ Not when there’s two men,” retorted Toady.
Tue Ecuo. 409

“ Aw, let her come, Toady,” said Donald, generously. ‘ She
‘can carry the records.”

“Then she’s got to leave her doll, The women don’t carry
abies.”

So Mary Rose left her doll and the three children went down
the street and over a cross street, and around another corner.
There was a poorer street here, and the children were not likely
to meet anyone they knew. At last they set down the hand-
organ. Mary Rose put on the records, Donald turned the
crank, Toady passed his cap to everyone who went by. Some
people brushed him aside and went. on; some stopped and
laughed, and put their hands in their pockets, or bags, to pull
-out a few pennies for the cap.

“ve got five cents,” said Toady.

“ Let’s keep on and get some more,” said Don.

So the children continued playing the hand-organ until they
had several times five cents. The records were played both for-
wards and backwards to make them sound like more different
pieces. How funny they did sound, when they were played
backwards! At last the children grew tired. Besides, it was
growing dark. It didn’t get dark until after suppertime at
this time of year, and the children began to fear scoldings for
being late. So the boys gathered up the hand-organ and Mary
Rose took the records again and they started for home. They
walked to the corner and turned onto another street, and then
to another, and still another, but they did not get home.

“Do you know the way home?” said Donald, who did not
know it himself, and had trusted to the leading of Mary Rose,
who was older.

Mary Rose looked about her doubtfully.

“T don’t know,” she said. “T thought it was this way, but
I don’t see the church, and I guess—I’m afraid we’re lost.”

Toady began to whimper; a tear rolled slowly down over
410 Tue Ecuo. >

Mary Rose’s chubby cheek. Donald looked about wide-eyed
and frightened. Suddenly he shouted:

“Tsee'a p’liceman ; let’s run.”

The children ran down the street toward the corner where the
policeman stood, the hand-organ bumping along between them.
As they came up to him Donald cried breathlessly :

“We're lost.”

“Well, you don’t look very lost,” said the policeman, sur-
prised. “iWhat street do you belong on? Where do you
live?” ;

“T live on Myrtle street,” answered Donald.

“ And we live on Brooks street,” added Mary Rose.

“Oh, well!” said the policeman. “ That isn’t so far away..
Come.on and I'll take you home.”

He started up the street in the direction from which they
had come. The children followed, still carrying the hand-
~organ, which had grown very, very heavy. The policeman ~
looked around to see why they lagged behind and noticed their:
heavy load:

“What you got there?” he asked, kindly enough. “ Is it,
heavy? Better let me carry it for you.”

Donald and Toady were only too glad to let someone else:
earry it for them, and they explained with the help of Mary
Rose all ‘about the ashman, and Donald’s purchase, and the
pennies that had been given them on the street.

“ How much money did you get?” asked the big man.

“We didn’t count it,” replied Toady, beginning to pull the-
pennies out of his pocket and counting them, ‘There were
twenty-two cents, counting the nickel that one man had given:
them. The policeman «smiled as he watched the counting.

“How are you going to divide it?” he asked.

Donald -wasquick to- reply.

“Tt’s all mine ’cept the five cents I got to. pay Toady for the
hand-organ.”
Tur Econo. 411.

” “co?

“Tt’s part mine,
was half mine.”

“T helped passing the cap all afternoon, so I get more’n five-
cents,” said Toady, beginning to get angry.

“T helped too,” said Mary Rose. ‘I carried the records.”

“You both just helped because you wanted to,” said Donald,
getting angry too, “and I didn’t promise only five cents, so.
there.”

The policeman began to laugh.

“Come, come, you kids got to stop your quarreling or I’ll
lock you up. You better divide up the money even. How much
did you say you had?”

“ Twenty-two cents,” answered Toady putting his hand in
his pocket again and pulling out the money, one piece at a time.

“You give your sister and the other boy each seven cents,
and I'll give them each one and then you'll each have eight.”

Toady did ‘as the policeman told him to, but while he was:
dividing the money he dropped one cent, so the policeman gave-
him an extra one, too. ‘

“Tm goin’ to take my hand-organ out again to-morrow, an”
get some more money,” said Donald. Suddenly the policeman
stopped short, as though he had just thought of something.

“Got a license?” he asked.

“No. What’s that?” Toady and Donald ‘asked together.

“What's a license?” added Mary Rose.

“Oh, you can’t play a hand-organ unless you have a license.
You have to buy it at the city department and nail it on your
hand-organ. If you don’t have one, you'll get took up.”

“ Do they cost much?” asked Donald anxiously. His dream
of being a hand-organ man began to fade.

“More’n you've got,” said the policeman, “ and anyway they
wouldn’t give one to you. You aren’t old enough.”

Donald’s heart sank.

“ Can’t we play no more, then?” he asked.

said Mary Rose, “’cause the hand-organ:
412 Tur Econo.

“Oh, sure you can play, but you can’t ask for money,” was
the answer.

Just then they came in sight of Donald’s house.

“'There’s my house,” cried Donald “and there’s mamma,”
and he ran ahead to where his mother stood on the doorstep
looking anxiously up and down the street for her little boy.

“What is all this?” she asked, a bit alarmed to see the po-
liceman with the children.

Then Donald began to tell the whole story, with the help
of Toady, Mary Rose and the policeman. When they had
finished, she said,

“Well, you children had better run home, for your mamma
will be worrying, too, and Donald must come in and have his
supper. It is almost bedtime.”

So the other children and the policeman went around the
corner together and Donald went in to have something to eat.
He was very tired and hungry. After supper he played his
hand-organ for mother, and she laughed a great deal, especially
when he played the records backwards. Finally she put her
arms around Donald and hugged him up close.

“Tt is long past my little boy’s bedtime,” she said, “and
the hand-organ will keep till to-morrow.”

So Donald ran to kiss father, too, before he went to bed.

Grace M. Youne, 1913.
Tue Ecuo. ALS

Editorial Department.

The following board has been elected to conduct the affairs
of the Ecuo for the coming year: —

Ric bot Was Miele Were ela ere oneness een J..Harry Ward.
Assistant dior i.c2 soe cis em inte te Gertrude Wells.
sbiveie DORE tae becomes ae aGOCe aed Grace M. Young.
News diols sane acre sarees ss stale cele Edith Carr.
PAU mania src ibe TN aerials ate Katharine Kinne.
Business. Manager awe cn ne ete eae tein Amy Wood.
Advertising Agents ...... Katrina Van Dyck, Louis B, Ward.
Subscription Agents ....Florence Gardner, ‘Chester J. Wood.
Circulation Manager 274 atti yanteie es Orris Emery.

To this new board of editors, the old board wishes all suc-
cess in the work before them. The “rusty nails” give place
in the time honored Echo board, to bright, new, shining nails.
We pray that they may keep their lustre, and let not their
strength be weakened nor their temper lost. Our year has
passed, and now we deliver our charge to them. Let them see
to it that it lose nothing in their care, but rather that it gain
all that they can give it.

“The Echo” is our college paper, and it should be the aim
of each succeeding board of editors to make our paper a little
more nearly perfect than it was the year before. Sometimes,
indeed, this seems impossible, but it is not always a bad plan
to aim at the unattainable.

Now, we are not saying that it is impossible in this case, so
let the new board of editors strive to excel us, and we shall be
the first and the loudest in their praise. May they raise the
standard of our paper higher and more high; may they make
it more and more an echo of our college spirit; may they mold
it into the strongest instrument for college enthusiasm and col-
lege unity, and make it more and more an institution of the
State Normal College, an influence for good, standing for the
414 Tue Ecuo.

highest and best in scholarship, ideals and general attainment.

That is a pretty big program, truly. Each year we must
go a little further toward our. final goal of perfection. But if
we ever reach it, what a sad state will ours be. There will be
nothing left to write editorials about. However, let not this
thought hinder the new board from pushing forward. We have
done our little. They must do their much, Good luck to them.

News Department.
MOVING-UP DAY.

Moving-up Day was a success. It seems to be a custom
which is now permanently established. After the under-class-
men had assembled, the Seniors of both departments entered
the auditorium while Miss Gertrude Wells presided at the
piano. The caps and gowns of the Seniors in the four year
course formed a pleasing contrast with the dainty white gowns
worn by the Seniors of the Household Economics department.
The latter also wore armbands of the class colors. Miss Lela
Farnham was in charge. She said that Moving-up Day marked
one more step toward commencement time. Miss Elizabeth
Schlieper, president of the Household Economics Seniors, and
Miss Lois Atwood added much to the pleasure of the occasion
by an instrumental duet. Following this came the ceremony
of “ Moving-up ” when the dignified Seniors relinquished their
accustomed seats to the studious Juniors and the lower class-
men took the seats and assumed the duties of the classes above
them. Dr. Milne’s address was full of inspiration. He re-
ferred to the large body of noble men and women who have
gone forth from our institution and expressed his confidence
that the Seniors of both departments, who are about to leave
am ero, 415

us, are carrying with them high ideals that in their attainment
will make the world better. At the conclusion of his remarks
the student body rose and waited for the Seniors to pass out.
The occasion was one that will long be remembered with
pleasure.

SENIOR NOTES.

Miss Jessie Wallace, who was one of us, visited us recently
and we were all glad to see her again.

Some of us thought that we were not getting enough experi-
ence in our practice teaching so we have instituted a new cus-
tom, we are teaching ourselves. If you wish to see some excel-
lent model-teaching, you must come to Senior Psych, Class and
watch us teach. :

The Senior program is fast nearing completion and class-
meetings are frequent and important.

Moving-up Day, when we donned our caps and gowns, proved
a great success and we thank the rest of the college for their
co-operation.

Miss Le Compte and Miss Klebes have been absent from col-
lege on account of illness.

SOPHOMORE NOTES.

The Sophomore-Freshman reception was held Friday even-
ing, April twenty-sixth. There was a short program rendered
by some of the shining lights of S. N. C. After this, refresh-
ments were offered to appease the audience. The rest of the
evening was spent dancing, Zita’s orchestra furnishing the
416 Tue Ecuo.

music. At eleven “ Charles” turned out the lights — and, we
all went home.

A debate between Mr. Bowen, Miss Button and Mr. Goewey,
representing English II., and Mr. L. Ward, Miss Sharer and
Mr. Rosenblum, representing English IX. took place in the
auditorium on May 6, at 4:30 p.m. The subject under discus-
sion was “ Resolved: That public billboards should be abol-
ished.” The decision was given to tthe English IX. team.

SENIOR HOUSEHOLD ECONOMICS.

Miss Garrison spent the Easter vacation at the Bermuda
Islands.

Plans are being made for a luncheon to be given Saturday,
May 25th. Miss Ann Henzel is to read the class prophecy,
Miss Frances Wood the class history and Miss Schlieper will
act as toast mistress. 3

The class flowers chosen are the jack and tea rose.

Miss Ethel Willet, instructor in cooking, sanitation and bac-
teriology has left the State Normal College to introduce a
course of Household Economics in the new Jersey City High
School. Her absence is much regretted and we wish her all -
the success possible in her new position.

A very interesting study of home, factory, and slum condi-
tions and settlement work has been taken up by means of papers.
written by the students in Professor Smith’s Pedagogy class.

FRESHMAN HOUSEHOLD ECONOMICS NOTES.

Miss Hannah E. Bray spent the week end April 19-22 with
‘Miss Clara Simms of Troy.

Miss Dorothy Rogers entertained Mrs. Rheta Snyder, and
son, of Scotia, on Saturday, April 19.
Tue Ecno. ALT

HISTORY IN THE MAKING.

Although Current Events were discussed in chapel on the
twenty-second of April, a meeting was held on the twenty-fifth,
the first in several weeks. Many phases of international law
were brought to our attention. The recently developed doc-
trine of insurgency as being illustrated in Mexico was clearly
explained. A most interesting phase of modern diplomacy is.
the use of newspapers as substitutes for diplomats, which phase
has been illustrated many times recently in the Ospina Affair
and the Magdalena Incident especially. ‘Comment was made
upon the varying interest of the narrations of Scott and
Amundsen.

The commission plan of government in Des Moines has had
a set-back as the old “ gang” is back in power once more, So-
cialism has been defeated in Milwaukee. We shall have our:
next meeting when something important occurs.

Y. W. C. A. NOTES.

During the Easter vacation two meetings were omitted. The
regular meeting of April 24th was postponed until April 26th.
‘Miss Corbett, who is a territorial secretary of the National
Board of Y. W. C. A., visited the association on that.day. ‘At
the meeting she gave a most interesting and vivid bird’s-eye-
view of the work of Y. W. ©. A. Tea was served after the
meeting in the high school corridor; the members of the advis-
ory board were present. Mrs. Aspinwall and Miss Templeton
presided at the tea tables.

May ist. A large attendance at this meeting greeted Rachel
Griswold who spoke on various matters relative to a college:
girl’s work and life. ;
418 Tur Ecuo.

PROMETHEAN LITERARY SOCIETY.

A regular meeting of the society was held May 3rd in the
high school chapel with the following program:

i Noiclin: Duets cnc a Misses McKelligett and Reynolds.
Be Read igs. le cc oe oe ole on cs oot eo es os Mr. Allison,
3. Origin and Story of Chanticleer......... ..Miss Buckley.
ARG TAN O A OOLOL ei nents ata Se oa olel nada eee Miss Schmidt.
5. Reading from Chanticleer............. ‘Miss Everingham.
WOME NOOC ALE OOLO =), cle Aino ohuar ce crelouela seit aictets Professor Kirtland.

Plans were discussed for a ‘

of the society for the year.

“spread” to conclude the work

BORUSSIA.

The members of Borussia are making active preparations
for the second annual German play to be presented to the col-
lege, Thursday evening, May 23, 1912, under the guidance and
supervision of Dr. Ward and Miss Springsteed. Rehearsals
are now in full swing. Much enthusiasm is being manifested
to make the play a success, both by the committee in charge
‘and the “ dramatis persone.”

The play is a comedy in four acts, by Gustav von Moser,
-ealled “ Der Bibliothekar.” Those taking part are: Mr. Pratt,
Miss Austin, Miss Maxwell, Miss Brasch, Miss Sharer, Mr.
Goewey, Mr. Pepis, Mr. Bowen, Mr. Schneider, Mr. Hayford,
Mr. Elmore, Mr. Quackenbush, Mr. Snyder.

You are all invited to be present. Tickets may be secured
upon the payment of twenty-five cents, from any member of
the committee, Miss Coghlan, Miss McGovern, Miss Ablett,
‘Mr. Rosenblum, Mr. Wood.

Do not miss the opportunity to witness a real German play,
iby near-real German actors.
Tue Ecuo. 419

BASEBALL.

The season opened Saturday, April 27, when the first team
ever organized to represent the college played the fast R. P. I.
715 team at Beverwyck Park. Although the visitors are cred-
ited with a 14-10 victory, the home team held the lead until two.
of the Trojans were out in the last inning, after which the game
was given away by one of those traditional blow-ups which occur
so frequently, even among professionals. The showing made by
the Normal team was, on the whole, not at all disouraging, and a
successful season is to be expected. The pitching of Barringer
was of an especially high order, and, with better support, he
should prove a winner for the purple and gold. The trial
line-up was as follows: Barringer, p.; Elmore, c.; Dolan, 1b.;
Fitzpatrick, 2b.; J. H. Ward, 3b.; Pepis, s.s.; Pells, 1.f.; Rice,
ef.; Carson, Emery, r. f.

GIRLS’ ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION.

“ We'll cheer S. N. C. =

We'll cheer S. N.C.

We'll cheer, cheer, cheer, cheer, cheer S. N. C.

And although we’re rival classes

We ever friends will be,

‘We'll cheer, cheer, cheer S. N.C.”

‘College spirit. That’s what prompted the singing of this,.
and if you had been one of the privileged number who enjoyed
the basketball luncheon, you would have seen and heard such
an outburst of enthusiasm’as seldom breaks forth within our
college walls. It’s the kind that athletics only can instill—the
kind that makes you play for the other fellow and it’s wholly
worth while. The basketball girls have it, and it’s “ catching.”
So catch it, if you can.
420 Tue Ecuo.

“The best yet” was the verdict passed on the basketball
luncheon. It was held on Saturday, April 20, at 1:30 in the
“mezzanine” gallery of the gymnasium, the long table ex-
tending nearly the whole length of that space. Not only was
it very delicious, but the table was exceedingly pretty with its
decorations of jonquils combined with a lavish display of purple
and gold. In fact, apply any superlatives fitting to describe
‘an altogether delightful repast and you'll have suitable words
to describe an affair, unique on account of its newness to us,
and a highly successful ending of a splendid basketball season.
Of course, the most distinguished guests were the champion
Juniors.

clots ye 1913)

We are singing, praises ringing,

May you never find your equal.

1913! Here’s to you!”

A repast such as was recorded on the basketball menu cards
would surely be incomplete without the accompaniment of after
dinner speeches. With Miss Laura Bristol as an able toast-
mistress, the following subjects received their due credit. S.
N. C., Miss Anna Rickon; Our Spirit, Miss Marjorie David-
‘son; Future Laurels, Miss Alice Toole; Our Captains, Miss
Marguerite McKelligett; Our Referee, Miss Jennette Campbell.

Suffice it to say, that cleverness combined with college spirit
and love for one’s team resounded in responses of unusual
worth. Basketball simply can’t be beaten. O ye foolish vir-
gins who might have played but didn’t! The things you have
missed have gone down in the annals of athletics as star events.
‘The next season must find you also eager for the fray.

With a thrill of delight, we welcome back the tennis season.
Do you play tennis, even a little bit? If so, have you joined
the tennis club? If not, why not? It is hoped that enthusi-
astic support will be given not only to the tennis club but also
to the tennis tournament.
Tur Ecuo. 491

DELTA OMEGA NOTES.

The girls at the Sorority apartment were at home to their
friends Tuesday, April 23.

The last regular meeting was held Wednesday evening,
April 24.

Misses Olive Ely and Leslie Wheeler, who have been ill, have
returned to college.

Miss Le Compte has been ill for the past week.

Miss Elizabeth Williamson spent the week-end of April 27
at her home in Glens Falls, N. Y.

Miss Berna Hunt, ’10, visited at college recently.

PSI GAMMA NOTES.

1. The last meeting of the Sorority was held April 23.

2. Miss Hilda Clements has been entertaining her sister,
‘Miss Helen Clements, during the week of April 15.

3. The Sorority girls are planning to spend the last of June
in camp at Lake George, as the guests of Miss Marjory Vedder.

KAPPA DELTA NOTES.

Miss Barbara Pratt was given a spread on Friday evening,
April 19, to welcome her to the Sorority house.
The house girls entertained Miss Corbett, territorial secre-
tary of Y. W. C. A., while she was in the city.
The Alumnz of Kappa Delta gave a tea for the Sorority in
the college halls on Saturday afternoon, April 27th. Many of
ur ‘old girls” were with us and we all had a most enjoyable
time.
499 Tue. Ecno.

Kappa Delta wishes to congratulate the Freshmen and Soph-
omores on their very successful reception.

‘At the last meeting of K. D. plans were made for several
affairs to take place this spring, the first of which was a trip
to Ballston Lake on May 11.

*

ETA PHI NOTES,

Several Eta Phi Alumnz spent Easter in Albany. Florence
Burchard, of the class of 1911, was the guest of Adeline Rayns-
ford. Myra Young returned to her home for the vacation.
Sarah Trembly was a visitor at the college on April 10.

Molly Sullivan spent Easter in Rochester. She was later
the guest of Helen Smith at her home in Camillus.

Elsie Danaher, Jessie Cole and Martha Kinnear were in New
York during the week of April 7.

Edna Burdick returned to her home from Asbury Park on
Saturday, April 27.

On the afternoon of March 29, tea was served by Miss Jean
Holmes in honor of Mrs. Birchenough, and Eta Phi’s smallest
member, Dorothy Fairhurst Birchenough. Miss Houbertz
presided.

NEWMAN CLUB NOTES.

Regular meetings of the Sorority have been held at the
homes of Miss Isabelle Devine and Miss Rose McGovern.

Miss Mary Crummey spent a few days during the Easter
vacation in New York City.

Miss Marie Phillips was the guest of Miss Rose McGovern
at her home in Peekskill.

Newman Club gave a theatre party on Monday, April 15.

Miss Geniveve Lonergan and Miss Lourdes Lynch took a
short trip through western New York.
Tur Econo. 423

Alumni Department.

Any Alumnus of S. N. C. desiring to attend the Senior Ball
which will occur in the college gymnasium on the evening of
June eighteenth, may obtain a ticket of admission by making
written application to Mr. H. B. Dabney, State Normal Col-
lege, and enclosing an assessment fee of two dollars. Tickets
will be saved for Alumni applicants until June first.

In a recent number of the “ Sandusky Registrar” is an art-
icle which tells of the successful manual training work done
by the seventh and eighth grades of the city. Each boy has a
work bench of his own and many useful articles are constructed.
The articles prescribed for the course are a hat-rack, a bill-
hook, a broom-holder and a wall-bracket during the first. term.
The teacher of the classes is Mr. Babcock, S. N. C. 1910, who
has also taken special work in Alfred University, N. Y. Pro-
fessor Babeock is thoroughly in love with his work and he has
achieved splendid success in the department since he took
charge and it is his love for the work that gives him the patience
to assist the little fellows at their tasks and answer each query
about the work.

On Saturday, April 6, 1912, a daughter was born to Mr. and
Mrs. Thomas T. Robinson at Albany, N. Y. ‘Mrs. Robinson
was Louise Isabelle Fairbanks, a graduate of S. N. C. in ee
class of 1908.

‘Miss Katherine Salisbury Hickok, 1908, was married to Mr.
Thomas Currie Bason on Wednesday, April 10th, at Crown
Point, N. Y. Mr. and Mrs. Bason will make their home at
Sayville, L. I., after May 5th.

Miss Mary Denbow, 1910, of Jamesburg, N. J., visited Al-
bany on Sunday, April 21st,

Miss Henrietta Fitch, 1911, and Miss Junia Morse, 1911,
stopped over to see us a few days on their way home for the
Easter vacation. Miss Fitch and Miss Morse are teaching in

the high school at Tuxedo Park, N. Y.
494 Tur Ecno.

FROM MINERVA’S POINT OF VIEW.

“ Yence vain deluding joys!” This has been the ery of my
friends of late. You ask why?. Exams are drawing nearer
and nearer, striking the hearts of the students in different ways,
some with fear, others with resignation, and a few with indif-
ference. Those supps. came too, those eleventh hour bargain
exams, and made recluses of the select try,andifyoudon’t
succeed, iry,try,again people. Among the latter, grim ghosts
from shadowy regions partook of a dollar’s worth of Latin
methods. Others there were, historical non-enthusiasts who
would fain have names graven on that select roll of honor, the
passees in the faith of the History Methodists. When they
came forth from the Hour of Trial, all were Reformed.

What little tragedies this life bears! We can never tell by
looking at a bright and happy countenance what hidden sor-
rows lie deeply rooted within. “ Nor can you tell by the looks
of a toad how far it can hop.”

In spite of their troubles, we have a jolly crowd around here.
“ All work and no play makes Jack-a dull boy; and all our
Jacks are quite lively, n’est ce pas? It has been advocated
by a famous student in this institution (or shall I say a student
famous in this institution?) that we “study less ‘and trust
more to genius.” I imagine the person quoted meant that
particular genius to be bluffing. However, in the expression,
when’ the words “in bluffing” are added, there: is a certain
cadence that I like—a rise and Ae ey the fall
which is usually inevitable.

I have some deliciuos quotations from classes i in the institu-
tion. These from the science department.

“ Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle.”

“ Higes may be frozen and kept for some time without having
their good qualities impaired. Then the shells may. be pealed
off and they are used in pies and bread, ete.” “Owing to the
Tue Ecuo. 425.

total depravity of inanimate things ” something or other would
happen, Iv’e forgotten what, but you will all agree that some-
thing must, after that.

“The higgledy-piggledy work of this class must be stopped !’”
echoed from the Shakspere class.

“Tle was a great man,” speaking of some historian, “ yes,
a very great man—he weighed four hundred and fifty pounds !’”
Such men as these are those of whom it is said:

“Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,

And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.”

Yea, verily, if the feet were as great as the man’s size would.
lead us to expect.

Some are just learning that Shakspere invented some of our
modern colloquial expressions — c’est a dire —slang. Our
friends of the Hamlet class have proudly vindicated them-
selves for the use of a number of expressions by referring to
Shakspere’s — “ T have you ” — which is the ancestor of “TI get
you,” and. “ Here’s my drift.”

They had quite a fine sale of eatables one noon. There were
sandwiches, fruit, hot dogs (I don’t know whether or not Col-
onel was in it, or the new bulldog in the Domestie Science de-
partment). It occurred to me that they might start some:
kind of hot cats too, since that “ dear, juicy, sweet, little kitty ””
has returned.

A splendid talk on Alaska was given the other day by .one
of the professors. The thing that impressed people most of
all was the description of some of the food of the Alaskans. Tt —
is fish spawn preserved for some time, until it has acquired a
wonderful odor. I quote from quotations of this lecture.“ Tt
has the particular characteristics of a well-known German
A26 ' Tue Ecno.

cheese developed to such an extent as to make a lusty limburger
turn green with envy.” Can you imagine it?

Of quite another sort is the odor which is popular around
here lately. I thought it came from the spring buds, but not
so. It may be extracted from the same, but this odor seems
to be delicately distributed throughout a little box of soap,
perfume, cold cream and that far-famed substance that “ comes
out like a ribbon, lies flat on the brush.” Now all of this is
given to Freshmen and Faculty members. Jt was whispered
that other boxes containing in addition to the powder and cold
eream a stick of shaving soap, were bequeathed to the fresh
young men, as many as were old enough to use the aforesaid
shaving soap. Of course there was little call for these boxes.

I wonder if there is anyone who enjoys the singing that we
hear in chapel, as much as I do. I’ve heard about De Golden
Weddin’, and I’ve Counted One, two, three, et cetera, all the
way up to seven, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard
Pepita serenaded too, and I’ve enjoyed it.

One day the basket ball girls were having a celebration, and
they went through the halls, singing gayly. It made me feel
real happy, and just as though there should be more.

I have wondered,too, why more do not attend chapel exer-
‘cises. It seems strange that nearly every student does not
appear at these meetings. ‘Chapel exercises are held not for
the faculty, but for the students, for their profit and pleasure.
T know that they are appreciated by nearly everyone, but why
does not the whole student body turn out to lend support to
them? This innovation is, after all, one of the greatest pro-
moters of college unity and college spirit. Why not support
it, then?

What a day the first of May was! It was moving day, all
over town, but particularly in S. N. C. In the streets the
particular sign was the big moving van, with the table legs
‘and bed pbsts sticking out of it. But here was an assemblage
Ture Ecno. 407

of girls in black caps and gowns, and girls in white dresses.

' Over me, then, came the consciousness of pride in these young.
people, in their careers, and in their triumphs. I thought of
those who have gone away from here before, just as these young
people in caps and gowns are about to go. I thought of the
failures and successes of the past year, for the failures were:
part of the strength of those people, as much a part as were
the successes. To most of the seniors this coming June will
mark the beginning of careers, of independence. Thus far
they have taken from the world, but now will begin the time-
that they are to give to the world, to their own small worlds.
And as I looked at these young, eager faces, I knew that it
would be the best for others, and next best for self.

Then there were the juniors, who fluttered around in their
white gowns; they, too, were advancing a step toward the ulti-
mate goal. And so on down through the stages of college life.
For

Everybody’s doin’ it. Doin’ what? ‘Movin’ up!
428 Tur Ecno.

Academic Correct
Caps and Hoods

Gowns for all

Makers to the Degrees

American Colleges
from the Atlantic
to the Pacific

Rich Gowns for
Pulpit and Bench

- COTRELL & LEONARD -

472-478 Broadway {5 James Street

Hats, Furs, Coats, Suits, Gloves,
Shoes, Umbrellas.
Rubbers, Canes, Bags, Trunks,
Rugs and Carpets.
Tue Ecno. 429

THE RECREATION STORE
OF ALBANY

STATE ST. COR. GREEN

Everything in Athletic and
Sporting Goods.

CHAS. H. TURNER CO.

PEARSALL

PHOTO CRAFTSMAN

COLLEGE PHOTOS AT REDUCED RATES
$12 Photographs for $5.00

HIGHEST GRADES OF WORK ONLY

29 North Pearl Street
430 Tur Ecuo.

JONN 5. MUKRAY

All the Latest Books, Limp Leather Classics.

Popular Books 50c each.

S. N. C. Scrap Books, Posters, Paper for Note
Books and Pennants.

88 MAIDEN LANE, ALBANY, N. Y-

H. H. VALENTINE
9 GUNSS&~s

Ammunition, Fishing Tackle, Lawn Tennis.
and Baseball Goods,
and Sporting Goods Generally

37 MAIDEN LANE, _ ALBANY, N. Y.
Tue Ecno. 431

Quality First, Then Best Values and Service.

Steefel Bros.

Albany.

NORFOLK SUITS
FOR TOWN AND COUNTRY WEAR

Norfolks are popular — and rightly so—
they are good looking, comfortable garments.

Norfolks shown here are identified by
their correct and distinctive character.

Shown in various models and fabrics at
$15, $20, $25 and $30.

Low Shoes, Soft Shirts, Flannel Trousers, Caps
and everything the out-of-door man wears.
432 Tus Ecuo.

EYRES

Graduation Bouquets and Beautiful
Baskets of Flowers at my Shop.
Plants for Window Boxes and oe

Gardens.

Store 11 No. Pearl St. Both Phones 208.

KATTREIN | Drop in at Recess

2 AND TRY &

ENGRAVER
PRINTER Our Sodas and Candies
STATIONER

Programs Soo

_ Invitations

College Stationery SPEIDEL

203 Central Avenue

45 Maiden Lane
Tur Ecuo. 433°

A Friend

{Rensselaer ="
Polytechnic
Fagivecring Institute

Courses in Civil Engineering (C. E.), Mechanical En-
gineering (M.E.), Electrical Engineering (E, E.), and
General Science (B.S.). Also Special Courses.

Unsurpassed new Chemical, Physical, Electrical, Me-
chanical and Materials Testing Laboratories.

For catalogue and illustrated pamphlets showing
work of graduates and students ind views of buildings
and campus, apply to

JOHN W. NUGENT, Registrar.

CRAYONS FOR EVERY USE

Send for samples of full line.

BINNEY & SMITH CO.,
81-83 Fulton St., N. Y.

. AMERICAN .

Book Company

Publishers of the Leading

SCHOOL ‘AND COLLEGE
TEXT BOOKS

100 Was' ington Square,

New York City :
Tue Ecuo.

BEN. V. SMITH

Optometrist.

0 N. PEARL ST., ALBANY, N.Y.

If Your Eyes Tire
After Reading “
Awhile

you can rest them if you
stop reading. IF you will
fet us prescribe and fit
you with a pair of eye

glasses your eyes won’t

tire and you won’t have
eee Te
to stop reading.

1 OU.

Can always get the best

Flowers

AT

GLOECKNER’S,

“Lhe Flower Shop, 97 State Street

William H. Luck

PICTURE FRAMES
FRAMED PICTURES
208 Washington Ave.,

Albany, - - New York

COLLEGE SPECIALTIES.

John J. Conkey

NEWS ROOM
Stationery, Periodicals and
SCHOOL SUPPLIES

A Complete Line of Postals;
also Bindery Paper.

215 Central Avenue,
Albany, New York

Abram De Blaey

52 State St., Albany, N. Y.

Corner of Green Street
H. R. Telephone, Main 1441-W

All Necessary
School Supplies
Tur Eco. 435.

Warren & Co., Inc.

Address :
General Offices and Factory: 489 Fifth Avenue,
108 Fulton Street, : NEW YORK

Manufacturers of

FINE JEWELRY
AND STATIONERY

SPECIALISTS IN EMBLEMATIC JEW-
ELRY, CLASS PINS, RINGS, FRATERNITY
GOODS. ATHLETIC AND PRIZE MEDALS
IN STOCK AND SPECIAL DESIGN

TROPHY CUPS, PLAQUES, Etc.

Special Designs and Estimates Furnished on Request

Department of Stationery and Engraving, Com-
mencement Announcements, Wedding
Stationery, Die Stamping,

Writing Papers, Etc.

CORRESPONDENCE INVITED
-436 Tue Ecno.

-F. M. HOSLER,

MANUFACTURER OF

Ice Cream and Confectionery,

WHOLESALE AND RETAIL

“ORDERS FOR RECEPTIONS, “RUSH PARTIES”, ETC.,
PROMPTLY FILLED.

Factory 77 Spring St. 193 Lark Street
TELEPHONE

THE - TEN - EYCK
Albany, New York.

Fireproof European Plan
FREDERICK W. ROCKWELL

Dinner Musie Daily - : - 6:30 to 8:30 p. m
‘Supper After the Play. Music in Grill Begins 10:30 p. m.
Dinner Music in the Grill Friday and Saturday Evenings

Sunday Evening Dinner, Special Orchestral Program
Music by Holding’s Orchestra.
Tur Ecwo. 437

The College
Barber THE
FRED J. STARK COLLEGE JEWELER

The Nearest Barber Shop to mr gund! Me) Coren

the College
OUR SPECIALTY OTTO R. MENDE
HAND MASSAGE
82 ROBIN 3 Doors above Robin St, on
One door this side of Central Ave. Central Ave.

ERY

DRESSMAKING AND .

For Silks, Satins, Sateens, Percalines, Etc.

‘We have everything needed and used in the
college course of dressmaking,

33 Maiden Lane

Albany, N. Y.
438 Tur Ecuo.

SPECIAL
RATES

LO
STUDENTS

Ath

Successor to D. Brown.

PHOTOGRAPHS OF QUALITY

STUDIO, 55 NORTH PEARL ST., ALBANY, N. Y.

CLASS PHOTOGRAPHERS OF 1910-11.

M. $. KEENHOLTS

GROCERIES, “Of Course

ee You Patronize

VEGETABLES, ETC.

our Advertisers”
253 Central Avenue.

Telephone Connection,

H. BUCHOLZ & SON

THEATRICAL, HISTORICAL AND MASQUERADE COSTUMES.
WIGS, BEARDS, MASKS, PAINTS, POWDERS, ETC.

275 MAIN STREET. PHONE. SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
Tut Ecuo. 439

BRAINS AND EXPERIENCE
Are behind the discriminating service of the

ALBANY TEACHERS’ AGONCY.

Many graduates of the Albany Normal College have been placed in
good positions by our Agency.

Last summer we placed Leland F. Smith (1911), Frances P. Schraek
(1911), Jane E. McHenry (1911) and several others in good positions.

What we have done for them we can do for YOU if you will register
with us. :

ALBANY TEACHERS’ AGENCY (Established 1891).

81 Chapel St., Albany, N. Y.
HARLAN P. FRENCH, Proprietor. VINCENT B. FISK, Manager.

WILLIAM BOYD

PRINTER

27-29 Columbia St., Albany, N. Y.