- THE -ECHo=
SEPTEMBER, 1912. ‘
ALBANY, : : : i NEW YORK
et Table of Contents.
PAGE
Hniteraty Department irene csc tcye seis ss a 3
he Weathers Brophet wey. tis.0 aisesten ese 3
Mer Seasoney apes acts)-iye eels crete ye cares 5
Dive MONG State, (laisse tctlesgrscsks cusesr etal sie 6
Waiting for Grandmother... .. 022.5200 9
The Transfiguration of ‘Sarah Conrad....... 12
JHGke IES) HE SRCCES SS Hou eae Go ees odoin ooo alts!
EAT aS eariINGSOUCES pols my yess ets tee oneeeree eeu 19
Dhe Pilothin the Poay cs sien. ee ee ey 21.
Pditorial Departments. gees hee es cece wee 28
News Departments. 3) Js. tee Stic a casera |
AlumniiDeparimenttss acne Saco eee 35
NGetiorsbtOmeye ids cbs sian a aloes inroeia aedieys 37
Ae ac By OaaeO
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Oe EOE Oo.
BOARD OF EDITORS
Editor-in-Chief
J. Harry Warp.
Assistant Editor
GERTRUDE WELLS.
Literary Editor Alumni Editor
Grace M. Youne, KATHARINE KINNE.
News Editor
EpitH Carr.
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XXII.
SEPTEMBER, 1912. No. 1
Literary Department.
THE WEATHER PROPHET.
Is yo’ askin’ *bout de weathah-signs ?
I’m de finest jedge ob dose,
For T’ve lived in Lazy Holleh
Fifty yeah, so dat I knows
Eberyting about de seasons,
From de yeah’s staht to de close.
Tur Ecuo.
When de birds ’mences singin’,
An’ de flowahs bloom so gay,
When de trees is emerald colah
An’ de cattails nod all day;
Dem’s de surest signs ob Springtime,
An’ de Spring it’s come to stay.
Den when roses come a-bloomin’,
An’ dere’s poppies in de hay,
When de noisy Fo’th comes round ag’in,
An’ de veerys hab’ dere say ;
Dem’s de surest signs ob Summah
An’ de Summah’s heah to stay.
Nex’ when trees ah flamin’ colahs,
An’ de geese hold southahd way,
An’ de squirrels gathah walnuts
In de sunny woods all day ;
Dem’s de signs of Autumn’s crispness,
An’ de Fall’s come heah to stay.
Las’ when snow drif’s slowly downahds,
An’ de sky is cold an’ gray,
An’ de stream is all ice-cobered,
So’s it whimpehs sad all day;
Dem’s de signs ob gloomy Wintah,
An’ Jack Fros’ is heah to stay.
So yo’ see I knows de seasons,
Knows dem thorough, knows dem all,
From de robin’s song in Springtime,
To de goose’s Autumn call;
But de bestes’ is de Maytime,
An’ nex’ bestes’ is de Fall.
Lovise H. Pownrs, 715.
oe
Or
Tur Econo.
THE SEASONS.
The varying seasons of the year bring no more vivid contrasts
than those at Niagara. I have seen the Falls times without num-
ber, yet but four recollections stand out distinctly. My first
visit was in November. I trudged along among great somber
trees and over dull, sodden leaves. Above the pattering of the
cold, gentle rain, and the sighing of the autumn wind, came the
insistent boom and roar of Niagara. Beyond, at the brink, the
gray-white of the sky found reflection in the moiling rapids. The
chill of the spray drove me back from the slippery black rocks
from which I watched the river as it leaped one hundred and
sixty feet into the chasm below.
Three months later, Niagara was a different place. When I
saw the Falls in February, I understood the splendid fascina-
tion of the ice and snow in the “‘ Snow Queen.” The park was
a fairy palace, with a floor of glistening, ice-covered snow. Sil-
houetted trees sparkled as if hung with diamonds, and the sky
was a dome of palest blue. The warmth of the sunlight and the
tang of keen air welcomed me. ‘The rapids were as angry as
ever in their sinuous, swirling grace, and the Falls as mighty
in their transparent rifts; but below, instead of green depths,
was a white field, with cracks here ‘and there for furrows,— the
ice ‘bridge was formed.
In April came the message of the spring. Violets and tril-
liums, and spring beauties were hiding among the trees. Foliage
was foretold in blurred outlines of feathery softness and ex-
quisite delicacy. Though all other snow had gone, a great block
of it at Prospect Point stood sentinel. Foam flecked the sunlit
water, and the air was mild.
Yet summer brought something more than peace. In July,
warm light threw into relief the cool recesses of the forest. After
the lashing and tumult of the rapids, the waters sank into the
ominous calm of the lower river. Calm as its surface was, no
6 Tue Econo.
light penetrated far. Those waters are much too deep to be pel-
lucid. Then, over the whole scene shone the sinking sun. From
green to gold the rapids turned, and then to purplish blue. The
sky deepened. In the west, where the rose had melted into
azure, appeared the ‘“ divine sweet evening star.” As I looked,
the white-crested waters grew black, and the moonlight made
things cold. So I reverently turned from my last sight of Ni-
agara. Mavp Matrcorm, 714.
LONE EVENING STAR.
It was one perfect night in July: perfect overhead, where
“all the twinkling starry host”? came out and looked soothingly
and lovingly down on the tired, hot, old earth; perfect on earth,
too, where all the maples and birches whispered loving poems io
each other in the forest shade, and where all living things had
gone to sleep in a silence, broken only by a gentle undertone of
forest and field, as if Mother Earth were breathing softly and
quietly, going to her rest. The air was warm, and poor little
Joe crept out to the mossy bank on the knoll for his usual even-
ing dream; the cabin was too close and smothering for dreams
that night.
Joe was a strange lad, a strange mountain wildling. Born
back in the wilderness, left motherless at four, he depended en-
tirely for love and sympathy upon nature, and what she had to
offer him ; for his father, a wood-sawer and a wood-splitter, spent
most of his time either in the forests over the ridge, working for
the lumbermen over there, or at the tavern in the village, six
miles away. He was often gone for two or three nights at a time
— old Ben Tupper was — so very early Joe learned to shift for
himself. Now, at twelve years of age, he had light hair, big
dreamy blue eyes, and a sensitive, drawn face, showing more
Tur Ecuo. iD
plainly than words the hungering of a lonely little heart for
human sympathy, and the longing to learn a medium of express-
ing all the wonderfully beautiful ideas which had taken root in
his soul and were struggling to get out.
Joe did know wonderful things. He knew just where the
robins and the bluebirds built their nests, when the eggs were
laid, and when the little birds would finally fly away. He knew
where the squirrels could find the best nuts, and where the wood-
chucks and the beavers winitered. In the spring he could find
the most beautiful wild flowers ever seen, but if he were asked to
give them away, his heart was broken. He went either to his
hollow beach tree and wept out his anguish there, or he sought
his mossy bed on the knoll and told his sorrow to a star which
always shone on that particular spot.
Long since he had given the name “ Lone Evening Star ” to
the twinkling spot of brightness which always smiled on him.
He fancied it knew and‘understood the ache which he could not
explain, because it always seemed to be alone too.
This night of which I write was the last that Joe was to spend
in his mountain cabin. Less than a week before, his father had
come home one night with the announcement that he was going
to leave the mountains to go back to the New England town
where his boyhood had been spent. He said he was too old to
work so hard; he was going back to the farm where a widowed
sister lived, and spend his last days with her. He was not a hard
man, but years of misfortune and thoughtlessness had made it
difficult for him to understand Joe’s grief at leaving all that was
dear to him. Each day the boy had gone to say good-bye to some
loved tree or rock, and on this last night he was bidding farewell
to his Lone Evening Star. He told it that he would leave all his
beloved birds, flowers, trees, and creeks to its keeping and its
care. Suddenly, all the pent up tears of the week burst forth,
and he sobbed piteously.
8 Tur Ecno.
“Oh, Lone Evening Star! Yiou’ll see ’em all, an’ this place
an’ I won’t be here. I wonder if you’ll miss me like I’ll miss
you. Oh, Lone Star! Lone Star! Go with me, go with me!
Else don’t let me go.”” The Lone Evening Star seemed to smile
on him, and finally he wept himself to sleep.
Old Ben’s gruff voice, calling to him that it was time to start,
roused him at three o’clock in the morning, and together they
trudged down the mountain to the little village. Neither said
anything as they walked along, for both were very thoughtful,
and even old Ben felt a little sad, for Joe’s mother was sleeping
under the maple on yonder knoll.
At length the wonderful journey came to an end. It had been
a remarkable journey for the little boy in spite of his dreadful
homesickness. The trains, bridges, broad stretches of level
country, the cities they had passed through, the rivers they had
crossed over, were more wonderful than anything Joe had ever
heard or dreamed of. When they finally reached the home they
were going to, Joe could not help being pleased with the roomy,
old farmhouse and the barns, and the pigs, horses, and cows.
Joe’s aunt, a sweet, motherly lady, came up to his room, blew
out his lamp, and after tucking him in, left a good-night kiss on
his upturned face. After she had left him, he lay looking
through the open window and wondering if all aunts were so
nice, when suddenly he saw a star all alone, blinking at him.
“Oh, my star! My Lone Evening Star! You did come with
me, didn’t you? You did! You did!” he cried. The mystery
of it all he could not explain, and he fell asleep wondering how it
ever had followed him.
* * * * * * *
Twelve years passed away. One starlight night in old Mis-
souri there stood a noble young man on a mossy knoll near a
tumble-down cabin. The man— Joseph Tupper, poet and
scholar,— repeated softly :
Tur Econo, g
“ Sunset and Evening Star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea;
* * * * * *
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
‘When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.”
Masex J. Tuomson, 715.
WAITING FOR GRANDMOTHER,
The long hill stretched hot and dusty before me, and only the
visions of the cool piazza and the pleasant parlor kept me from
turning back. Upon reaching the summit, I looked toward the
big white house. It seemed deserted, and as I stepped upon the
porch with great misgivings, I heard a voice from the lilac bushes
on the other side of the hedge:
“ Your grandma ain’t to home, Miss Ginnie; come right over
here on my stoop and rest. You must be nigh tuckered out.”’
Through the great fragrant bushes of purple bloom peered the
round, cheery face of Mrs. Bell, grandma’s neighbor. As I re-
luctantly turned toward her porch, the shrill voice continued:
“T don’t know where she’s gone a galivantin’ this mornin’.
*Bout an hour ago I saw her and your Aunt Rose go out. My
land! things has changed since your granther died. Great suf-
ferin’ cats! what would old Jimmie McIntyre say if he could
see the way things is goin’, eh? Come right up here and sit in
this easy chair. Take this pa’m leaf fan; no, no, I don’t want
it; I can talk better without it. As I was sayin’, your granther
never had no such doin’s. He believed in women’s stayin’ to
10 Tur Ecno.
home, and your grandma worked hard and cooked the dinners,
and mended the youngsters’ clothes.” ‘She sighed, and rocked
back and forth violently for a few moments.
“Yes,” I ventured, “but, Mrs. Bell, grandma has no chil-
dren to look after now. They are all grown up, and: {4
“Law! child, I know that. Haven’t I seen ’em grow up?
Don’t I remember when your ma married young MacGregor ?
Old Jimmie was fit to be tied, and he said right then and there
that he would cut her out 0’ his will, and you know he did.”
I tried to remonstrate with her, but with no results. Once
started on her pet subject, if it could be termed such, with her
rambling mind and voluble tongue, it was no small task to stop
her.
“Old James MacIntyre didn’t believe in lettin’? women do as
they pleased. No, sir, and now all this talk of women’s rights.
I wonder what he would say to it, and your aunt tendin’ the
meetins too, eh? That’s where she be right now, is it? Well, I
want to know! Nuff to make ’im iturn over in his grave, so it
is,”
“Well, auntie thinks it only just for a woman to have equal
rights with men. Auntie has this large estate to manage, and
many men in her employ are foreigners, hardly able to support
themselves. Now, auntie, with her splendid brain and wide
scope of knowledge, has no say in affairs and: By
“ Fiddlesticks! You’ve learned that from her.’ She has
wound her coachman and Tony Ciconella about her finger until
they are ready to go out into Main street a shoutin’ ‘ Hurrah fer
Wimmen’s Votes!’ at the top o’ their lungs. She knows that
Jim Barney’s got a wife and a mother who can neither read nur
write, and if your aunt could cast a vote, both those ignorant
women could do the same. How can those men up there in the
State house give women suffrage when no one has made up her
mind yit whether she wants it or not? Here is a society on one
Tur Econo. ab
side a shoutin’ fur it, and a society on the other side a shoutin’
agin it, and the poor men in their midst like a boy in a hornet’s
nest, not knowin’ where to turn.”
Poor Mrs. Bell’s face was growing more red and flustered
every minute. She was rocking to and fro, and talking faster
than she rocked. Now she jerked her chair hurriedly forward.
“Your aunt thinks she ain’t nothin’ to say in polities in this
town. Well, she has more’n most men in it. Look at that piece
she writ for the ‘ Bugle!’ After that came out Zeke Wilson had
no more show than an icicle would have this mornin’. I know
it was there, for I read it myself, and cut it out and pasted it in
my scrap book, ’cause it was the only piece I ever knew the
writer of. I tell you, Miss Ginnie, the polls ain’t no place for
women. Do you s’pose for a moment your aunt would have the
game respect shown to her as she has now, if she was ’tendin’
caucuses and elbowin’ round among all the men? I tell you,
women is too busy, their work is too important; you know they
run things pretty much their own way now, and they better be
satisfied with what they got. Better leave some little things for
the men to have all to themselves. Why, when I was young,
girls and women did everything; carpet-weavin’, tailorin’, dress-
makin’, mendin’ shoes, spinnin’ cloth, and even makin’ soap.
Then along comes a man who put a machine in a shop, and with
a few turns 0’ the wheel all the work which it had taken women
days to do was completed. Now Betsy Spinster and Mrs.
Widow can sit with hands folded daintily in their laps, once in
a while goin’ to make some pretty clothes fur a wealthy woman
who won’t take machine-made articles. No more worryin’ an’
frettin’ over the soap makin’ or the weavin’—but law! women.
ain’t to blame for it. They — there comes your grandma and
your aunt up the hill now, she a thinkin’ she’s done somethin’
great addressin’ a meetin’ and talkin’ on a soap box about suf-
frage. She was more useful and helpful, accordin’ to my idea,
when she took care of my Oliver when he lay sick after one 0’
12 Tue Ecuo.
those awful times o’ his. She was a settin’ there pointin’ out
how he was hurtin’ hisself and tellin’ him the ways and means 0’
betterin’ hisself. He’s been a different boy ever since, and:
“ How’do, Miss Rose? How be you, Mis’ ‘MacIntyre? How’d
you make out to the meetin’? Oh, it takes you! We’ll all be
puttin’ on our best bibs and tuckers and be votin’ for you, Miss
‘Rose, for mayor. Here’s Miss Ginnie awaitin’ for you! ”
Geratpine H. Murray, 715.
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF SARAH CONRAD.
The Rey. Carlos Van Horn walked down the shaded street to
the Barrie homestead, a rambling, white house, half shut from
view by old, wide-spreading, syringa shrubs. Somehow he
never could help going there first when he started out to make
parish calls. It was the only house in Pageville where the min-
ister could take the disciple’s place. In other homes he was the
teacher, counselor, pastor; but behind the syringas he was just
a boy again, and Mrs. Barrie dropped all titles and called him
Carl. She and his mother had sat together in school five decades
back, and the son of an old friend found a large place in the
heart of this gentle woman. For six years now, she had not
gone farther than the picket fence in front of the house. Most
of the summer days she spent in her chair on the porch, and
here, as usual, her preacher boy found her. The porch was a
sacred place, because it was a home with the unrestrained atmos-
phere, the absolute informality of a home, and it was a home be-
cause Mrs. Barrie sat there.
It took the Rev. Carl about one minute to drop his hat on the
porch, kiss his adopted mother, make himself easy in his chair
and get well under way with a piece of gingerbread from a plate
full of brown squares on the table.
Tun Econo. 13
“ This is what I call bully good fortune to find you and ginger-
bread together,” said Carl, as he started a second piece.
“Vm so glad it came when it did,” laughed the old lady,
“for it’s better to me when I see you eat it. Sarah Conrad
brought it in just before you came.”
“Miss Conrad is as good a cook as she is a Sunday school
teacher. I wonder what the neighborhood would do without
her. Everywhere I call, it seems, some one owes a deal to Miss
Conrad’s kindness. When I look at her, I think she must be
like these women you read about in books, born and brought up
in the same place, cultured from childhood in the love of her
friends, and ze
Mrs. Barrie’s eyes twinkled with fun, but something else than
fun shone there. It was like a tear — yes, it must have been —
for it ran down her nose and jumped off on her knitting, as she
answered :
“ That does sound like a book, but it isn’t the story of Sarah
Conrad. Her’s wouldn’t read like that.”
The old lady’s eyes dropped for a moment; then she raised
them to the windows of the house across the way. Leaning her
head back, she looked, not just at those windows, but as though
behind them was a long past, which she was silently reviewing.
The minister rocked slowly and said nothing. He had learned
the signs, and knew how to wait when his little Pageville mother
had something to say. ;
“Would you like to know that story, son?” Mrs. Barrie
asked. ‘I don’t know as I ever told the whole of it to any one,
though I have thought on it so often it seems to be a part of me
—the saddest, sweetest life I ever knew.” Mrs. Barrie was
leaning forward in her chair, with one hand on her boy’s knee.
There was a glory, as if she were seeing a vision, on her face,
and she saw in his eyes the signal to go on.
“She was born and brought up in that house over there. She
was living alone when William and the boys and I moved here,
14 Tue Eco.
and the first day I saw her I dreaded her for a neighbor. She
was so stingy and bitter looking, and her voice was so harsh.
She never came in to see me, nor anybody else, so far as I ever
heard, and nobody wanted her to. I shan’t ever forget the scared
look on Arthur’s face — he was eight then — when he ran in one
day and said, ‘ Ma, that lady across the road hates boys. She
chased me out of her lot an’ I was only just running ’cross it. I
wasn’t taking anything, an’ she’s got a cow that looks like her.
Its face is so thin and ugly and its cut-off horns look like her
eurl paper knots, an’ I’m ‘afraid of both of them.’ Well, I didn’t
wonder a bit that the child was seared, and I told him to keep
away from her pasture land and not bother her.”
The Rev. Carlos was eyeing his friend in a questioning way,
and there came a thought that perhaps Mrs. Barrie had gotten
the story confused with some other, or was just dreaming aloud
something she had dreamed before in silence. He put his head
back against the rolling top of the wicker rocker and watched
her. Mrs. Barrie saw the movement and the look and read
them.
“ Carl, boy, it’s all just as I tell you. Tve lived neighbor to
her for thirty years,” she said emphatically.
‘But, little mother, Miss Conrad, that white-haired saint I
know, isn’t the same person you're talking about. She can’t
be.”
“No, not the same person, not the same at all; a different
woman, only the name is the same, and even that sounds dif-
ferent as we say it now-a-days,” the old lady continued. ‘ She
was like that, cross and bitter for two years after we came, and
the other folks said she had been so a long while. I used to be
afraid of her almost, she was so sharp with the boys if they got
anywhere near her. Only once, I remember, she let go a good
chance to scold a body. Our baby, John, was two then, and one
day he toddled across the road to get a daisy near her fence. I
watched him from upstairs, for I thought maybe she wouldn’t
Tue Ecno. 15
like it. She was digging up some roots behind the lilacs, but she
just stopped and watched him with a pitiful look in her eyes
until he ran back home. I wondered what could make her look
so, but I didn’t guess.
“Well, one evening in the summer I was setting bread in the
kitchen when she came up on the back porch with her hat on and
a satchel in her hand. She looked almost wild and she was out
of breath. ‘ Here’s 1a dollar and the key to the barn,’ she said.
‘T want your Richard to feed my cow and milk her for a week.
I’ve got to go away.’ I hadn’t time to say a word before she
was gone, but the dollar was in my hand. I went to the gate
and saw she was walking fast down the road, and as I came back
indoors I picked up a scrap of paper. I took it in under the
light and read it. ’Twas a telegram and all it said was, ‘ Your
sister needs you.’ Then I remembered hearing that she had
quarreled with her sister and would never go to see her. I
thought maybe she would never come back, she looked so wild
when she left.
“ Well, it was just a week that the house was empty and dark,
and then at dusk she came. I heard her gate click and looking
out I saw her, but, Carl Van Horn, I never was so surprised in
my life. It gave mea start I can feel yet. She had a toddling
boy with her about as big as our little John, and Sarah was
guiding him up the walk and carrying a big grip in her other
hand. Well, I just flew into the kitchen, and told Will, and,
like him, he was quiet for a minute and then he said slowly,
«Well, Anna, we’ve never neighbored with her, but you’d better
go over ‘after supper. Maybe she'll need some help with the
little boy and ’Il be glad to see you.’ :
“And so I did. I dreaded to go, for I’d never been in her
gate, but I walked along softly on the grass and up on the porch,
and ’fore I knocked I looked through the screen door.” The
speaker paused for a moment, then: “ Tt was like a vision to me,
‘Carl,’ and Mrs. Barrie was leaning over looking into the young
16 Tur Ecno.
man’s face, her eyes shining with a sacred joy. “I thought I
heard the Lord saying: ‘The place whereon thou standest is
holy ground,’ for there sat Sarah Conrad, holding the baby in
her arms and trying to sing in her poor cracked voice, and the
words that came in jerks were,
‘Oh, Love, that will not let me go —
Then she stopped, bent over the little fellow, and I thought she
was crying, and then she went on singing,
“T lay my weary soul on Thee —’
and the rest of it to the end of the verse. She sat there a good
while, but I didn’t dare knock. She hadn’t heard me. After a
while she took the baby up stairs. JI waited out there in the
dark for her to come down and lock up, and when she did come
with her lamp in her hand, I knocked. I didn’t know how she’d
welcome me — really a stranger to her, but when she saw me she
put out her hand and said, ‘Come in; I’m glad it’s you.’ Her
voice wasn’t so harsh as it had been a week before, and the bit-
terness was gone from ther face, but she was very pale, and dark
under the eyes.
“TJ didn’t stay long that night. It wasn’t like Sarah Conrad
to tell you about things. She had lived too long shut up in her-
self to do that right away. Not a word did she say about her
week away from home, or anything else that ‘had happened, but
as I was going out she said in a way I knew she meant it, ‘Come
again, and bring your baby; I have a little boy here with me
now.’ It was a struggle for her to say that, but there was some-
thing like a smile on her face. It would have been one if the
poor face had known how to smile.”
‘There were tears in Mrs. Barrie’s eyes, and in Carl’s, too.
She would have waited a while, but he could not wait.
“Go on; I want more,” he said, and Mrs. Barrie wiped her
spectacles and continued:
“Well, I did go again. I went often and every time I went
she was different. Every day she was happier and busier, her
Tue Ecno. AY
voice was sweeter and the queerness was falling off from her.
I found out by littles that the boy was her sister’s. His father
had died first, and then his mother. She got there too late to do
her sister any good, but, as she told me once, the baby was left,
and she wanted to take him in order to give him the love she
ought to have given his poor mother.
“And, Carl, there never was a mother any better to a son than
Sarah was to George, and never a boy that seemed to give back
more love. I remember how she used to sew for him, singing as
she did it, and how she near lost her reason when she thought
he was dying of the fever, and how she sank down in my kitchen
tocker and cried the first day she went out after he was well
enough to be up. And, as time went by, she came from loving
George to love other boys; folks began to neighbor with her and
she with them, and it wasn’t long before people were sending
for her when they were in trouble, till now we all depend on her
so she seems to belong to us.
“T’ll never forget, when the little fellow was about twelve,
Sarah went to the city for a day, and when she came back she
was carrying a violin in a leather case. She looked the proudest
woman in Pageville. George was always erazy for music;
would go anywhere to hear it; and there was a young fellow
here at the time giving lessons. Sarah paid him to teach her
_ boy every week, and he did learn surprisingly quick. Often I’ve
heard him, just at evening, playing for her out on the porch,
and after that her face would shine like the light through a
church window. ‘So it has gone on for years, till now she is
what you say, ‘the white-haired saint,’ and he’s one of the
Lord’s noblest men. All she needed was to love and be loved,
and it has made her a new woman and her house a different
place.”
The young minister rose to go. ‘ That’s a great story,” he
said, “and I have my text now for next Sunday, Mother. T
hoped you could give me one. ‘ Except a grain of wheat fall
18 Tun Ecno,
into the earth and die it abideth by itself, alone, but if it die it
beareth much fruit.’ ”
A few moments later the gate clicked behind the minister,
and the fair, beautiful, old lady was left alone on the porch.
Noami M. Howetts, 714.
IDEALS OF SUCCESS.
The term “ success,” in the opinion of the majority of people
to-day, carries with it merely the idea of material well-being.
The dictionary recognizes this, for it defines the successful man
as one who has “ reached a high degree of worldly prosperity.”
To succeed, in the eyes of the world, one must be able to display
a certain degree of wealth and position, and of the visible, tan-
gible things which indicate these; in short, must have ‘‘ some-
thing to show for it.” He who seems prosperous, though that
prosperity be merely superficial, as it so often is, has succeeded,
and is regarded with admiration and envy by those who think
none too deeply.
They have even ceased to apply the term to those who accom-
plish great things for their country, or do the finest work in the
world of art, of science, or of literature; and never dream of ap-
plying it to those who, living in obscurity, are accomplishing
things every day to enrich their own lives and the lives of those
about them.
But, because the world does not shout it aloud, shall we say
that these have not attained success? We are all seeking happi-
ness, and happiness means something different to every one of
us, for our ideals are never the same. Is it not, then, those who
have attained to the highest and noblest ideals, or rather, who
are drawing near to this attainment, who are the most truly
successful? He whose ideal is the accumulation of wealth has
Tur Ecno. 19
not set his standard of happiness very high; and he will find,
when he thinks he has it within his grasp, that it has escaped
him — has deserted him for the man who is striving for things
higher, nobler, better.
True success, then, means, not the gaining of material pros-
perity, but the attainment of happiness in the effort to grasp a
high and noble ideal.
Lois Atwoop, 714.
ALASKAN RESOURCES.
Alaska may not seem, on first thought, a very pleasant place
in which to spend a summer, but, as most of the summers of my
life have been spent there, I feel that I am qualified to testify
in its favor. And, though the tales of some of those summers
might prove somewhat interesting to you, I think that I should
‘prefer telling you something about Alaska itself.
When Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867, through
the efforts of William Seward, the citizens of the United States
contemptuously dubbed it “The President’s. Ice-chest,” and
“ Seward’s Folly,” little dreaming of the wealth lying dormant
beneath ther forbidding exterior. Even now there are many who
fail to recognize her great importance to her mother-country ias
a base of supplies for many industries.
In the first place, Alaska has immense coal deposits, which
would supply the whole United States for many years. This
coal is deposited in places which are easily accessible for mining,
and is a good grade of anthracite. During the last few years
there has been a considerable amount of discussion as to the ad-
visability of allowing the veins to be worked now, but the gov-
ernment has adopted a conservative policy and is allowing no
locations as yet, being aware of their immense value as a reserve
supply in case of war.
20 Tue Ecuo.
From coal deposits the mind naturally strays to petroleum,
and that also has been discovered in large quantities near Cor-
dova and Katella, in the northwestern part of Alaska. The
petroleum is rich in hydrocarbons and is already being shipped
in large quantities to Seattle and San Francisco.
But although these new industries are taking a prominent
place in the development of Alaska, the old, established indus-
tries of mining, hunting and fishing are not being neglected.
There are over one hundred canneries scattered along the
coast of Alaska, from the southern to the northernmost part.
Indians, and a few white men, mostly Norwegians, catch the
fish, while the helpers in the canneries are largely Japanese and
Chinese. Some canneries have great traps in which they catch
most of their fish, but since the strict regulation of this practice
by the government, it has not proved so profitable. This canned
salmon ranks with the Columbia River salmon in excellence,
and is shipped throughout the United States. This industry is
regarded by many as a very minor one, but as a matter of fact,
it is just as important, if not more so, than mining.
Every spring and fall fur buyers, representing all the prin-
cipal firms of the large cities, travel through Alaska to buy the
furs caught and tanned by the Indians and trappers during the
previous season. The rivalry runs high and sometimes causes
trouble among the Indians, as the buyers will even resort to
“ firewater ” to obtain especially fine skins. Many varieties are
shipped: mink, seal, otter, bear, white, and blue fox and ermine
being the most important. The mink, white, and blue fox and
polar bear are trapped in the northern part; otter, red, and
brown bear and ermine all through Alaska. A great deal of
martin is also shipped, but that ranks among the cheaper grades
of fur.
And last of all comes the great mining industry, for which
Alaska is so famous. This should really be divided into two
parts, placer and quartz mining. In placer mining the free gold
Tur Ecuo. 21
is washed from the gravel or sand by means of sluice-boxes
which contain mereury. Then the mercury is treated with acid
or “burned” to remove the gold. This is, of course, the
simplest method of mining and the one used during the great
rush of ’98, which has been so famous. Most of the placer dig-
gings are located on the creeks tributary to the Yukon river, in
the. region about Nome and Fairbanks. New diggings are
opened every year, the last rush being to the Iditarod river.
Nevertheless, the revenue from this kind of mining is gradually
decreasing, owing to the transient nature of the camps, and the
more permanent quartz mining is assuming the important place.
This quartz mining is a longer process, as the gold must be
extracted from the crushed quartz not only by mercury, but also
by smelting. And as it would take far too long to describe this
process, we can only say that Alaska has paid her purchase price
five times over to the United States treasury, and seems to pos-
sess an almost inexhaustible store of the yellow metal sought for
in vain by so many people.
So, taking all these conditions into consideration, does it not
seem to you that the Indians were possessed of ia prophetic spirit
when they called Alaska, “Aliaska,” the “ great white land?”
Hetsan T. Denny, 715.
THE PILOT IN THE FOG.
It is the third morning of unusually heavy December fog, and
its blinding masses blow along the Hudson river between the
New Jersey and New York city shores like the smoke from some
gigantic pile of smoldering green wood. The crowd on the fore
deck of a ferry boat in its dock at Jersey City waits impatiently
for the delayed signal bell from the pilot house to the engine
room, to begin the hazardous trip to lower Manhattan.
22 Tue Econo.
At last the sharp clang is heard, and the clumsy craft dares
to push its prow beyond the protection of its dock. But now, the
passengers scarcely know whether to feel relief that their jour-
ney to their places of business has begun, or to regret that the
boat has ventured out into the region of peril it is entering.
From the midst of the vapor cloaking the bewildered river,
there loom up alarmingly, first on this side and then on that,
the forms of other craft — here an ocean steamer trying to find
its way through this maze to the comparative safety-of the open
sea, here a tug snorting angrily at the delays, and now, so close
to the ferry boat that its passengers can almost recognize a face
on the other’s deck, a barge carrying freight cars across the chan-
nel, with men stationed on the roofs of the ears for lookouts.
The only living things on the river that can be heedless of the
sullen veils that imperil traffic are the sea gulls. They circle
and swoop out of the obscurity over the boats, as if mocking
from their freedom the mist-imprisoned voyagers below.
The deafening clamor of the whistles is uninterrupted. Their
deep tones shake the very water tossing ghostly below. The
thick layers of wintry vapor are like a wash of plaster-of-Paris
across some orchestra score, leaving the medley of instruments
hooting and wailing in a tumult of hopeless discord. In mid-
stream the ferry boat comes almost to a halt at the center of the
threatening confusion. But for the uproar, the passengers may
think themselves alone on a chartless ocean, so closely is every-
thing wrapped in the fog. This whitish darkness is more
fraught with danger than the blackest night, for the latter may
be at least clear enough to show a signal lamp from afar, which
this muffling reek would choke at a rod’s distance.
The passengers on the slowly moving ferry boat feel as help-
less as if they were sheep huddled on the deck. Their
breasts are shaken by the vibrations of the whistles and bells.
Some of them fear that the pilot may not be trustworthy ; others
are pale with anxiety. Think of the pilot! His is the strain of
Tur Ecno.. 23
a general, who must not only banish his own fear, but also en-
courage his troops when the bullets shriek most menacingly, and
the shells burst nearest.
At last, blurred letters on a pier looming out of the fog, show
that the pilot has not lost his bearings, but has dexterously
guided his ship to the New York side. Some of the passengers
doubtless say: “ Good luck.” Others consider the safe trip to
be due to the alertness, ability, iand seasoned courage of the
skilled hand on the steering-wheel.
Criarenor A. Hipiey, 715.
GETTING IN OUT OF THE RAIN.
I opened my pay-envelope and mechanically pulled out the
bills. I knew what they were without running through them.
Four five-dollar notes. They had been my Saturday portion for
over a year.
“ John!” came a sudden exclamation, as I was about to stuff
the thin roll into my pocket. I turned and faced the shipping
clerk. He had on coat, hat and gloves, and seemed in a hurry.
In one hand he carried a suit case.
“ John,” he repeated quickly, “will you give me that five
spot you owe me? I’m going out of town over Sunday and V’ll
need the money badly.” ;
I slipped one of the bills into his hand without looking at it.
He crammed it into his pocket and disappeared through the
open door, galling back his thanks. Then I suddenly remem-
bered my resolution to keep him off until the next week. But
the sudden request had surprised me into paying my just debt
at once, inspite of the fact that I had decided not to do so.
You see, it was like this: My rent was due that day. I paid
it by the month. It was sixteen dollars for the two rooms my
24 Tur Econo.
wife and I occupied in an obscure part of Brooklyn. In paying
the shipping clerk I exposed myself to 'a week of poverty; for,
besides the fifteen left of my pay, I had only a dollar bill and
some cents.
“Those cents”? were the only means left for a livelihood dur-
ing the coming week. I had a vision of free lunches, and walk-
ing to and from work. I knew it would do no good to appeal to
the landlady; it was either pay or move. I couldn’t ‘beg a loan
from any of the office force, for they had already gone. I sat
down despairingly on a shipping case and began ‘to figure.
The loose change in my pocket amounted to twenty-seven
cents, besides the dollar bill, which would have to go to the land-
lady, with fifteen of my pay. I smoothed out the bill with my
fingers, and began to figure how I could live on four cents a day
for a week, or even on twenty-seven cents over Sunday.
Then I took out the thin roll from which I had skinned the
note for the shipping clerk, and put the dollar with the fives.
As I sat thumbing the bills, I had a sudden shock. Great
Heavens! I had only one ten-dollar bill and a single one.
Eleven dollars! My rent was sixteen. What had become of
the other five? I made a frantic search through the office. It
was nowhere to be found. I hunted and hunted; yet I found
no money.
The janitor came in to close up and I tried to borrow a quar-
ter from him. He gave me twenty-five excuses; but those could
not ibe converted into cash. I went out into the street in a very
miserable condition. Ten cents car fare home would leave me with
seventeen cents. J was just dabbling with a delicate decision
between a suicide’s grave or enlisting in the navy and deserting
my wife, when a sudden shower came up. Looking about for
shelter, I espied the wide-open door of an auction store. Several
people were hurrying in out of the storm, and I trailed in with
them. Gere actaaee
Tue Eco. 25,
Not having anything else to do, I gazed absently at the “ re-
splendent ”’ auctioneer.
“Come in out of the wet!” he cried. “ Everything for noth-
ing to-day. Something for everybody. Presents given away
to-day. Articles of intrinsic value selling for a song!”
Not being much of a singer, and having nothing else with
which to purchase articles of intrinsic worth, I was interested in
the sale merely as a “ haven of refuge” in a time of storm.
Then, suddenly, the auctioneer held up a dazzling array of
dishes. “ Every piece hand painted by Kiera in Tokyo. Guar-
anteed genuine! See the print on the bottom!” He held up a
tea cup for display; the china looked like eggshell, and on the
bottom was the “scragey ” signature of Kiera, of Tokyo. I had
never heard of the Japanese gentleman, but it seemed to me that
my aunt, who was a great collector of china, had mentioned his
name in her holiest and most awful voice.
“Fifty cents,” offered some unappreciative person in the
audience. The auctioneer fixed a baleful eye on the offender,
paused for effect, then delivered a deluge of sarcasm, and finally
held up one cup and saucer.
“TJ will sell them separately,” he announced. “ They ought
to bring fifty dollars apiece. Here, I'll sell two cups and two
saucers this time. What do I hear?”
“ One dollar.” The auctioneer smiled in that expressive way
they have, then he fixed a piercing eye on me.
“You'd give two dollars, wouldn’t you?” I was as wax in
his hands; an auctioneer can always hypnotize me. Suddenly T
heard the birds sing, and all was springtime. I thought of my
Aunt Elizabeth, who collected china. I would buy the things
for a mere song and sell them for a grand opera.
“Yes,” I murmured meekly.
“Sold! ” cried the auctioneer.
I felt as if I were sold, but wouldn’t admit it. I stepped over
to the cashier and proffered a ten-dollar bill. She informed me
26 Tue Econo.
at first that she feared she couldn’t change the bill, but after
hearing that the purchase amounted to two dollars she dived into
a little drawer at the back of her desk, and handed me three
coins, together with a fifty-cent piece. I noticed that the three
coins were two-dollar-and-a-half gold pieces. I had never seen
one before, and was rather suspicious of them, but after a mo-
ment’s hesitation I pocketed the money. Taking my precious
tea cups, painted by Kiera of Tokyo, I left ‘before the auctioneer
ould fix his eye on me again and sell me a Brazilian diamond.
I mentally summed up my resources. They had dwindled
somewhat. Three two-dollar-and-a-half gold pieces of doubtful
value, a dollar bill, a fifty-cent piece, and twenty-seven cents.
Nine dollars and twenty-seven cents. I had done nothing to
deserve it. My Aunt Elizabeth would have to buy the dishes.
That would set everything straight.
Aunt Elizabeth had evidently been cultivating a “ grouch.”
When I uncovered the gorgeous, genuine articles and offered
them to her for ten dollars she denounced me for a fraud, and
led me by the ear to the nearest five-and-ten-cent store, where
she showed me specimens of the same art, with the same name
and design — on the five-cent counter. That took the wind out
of my sails. I started back to throw the china at the auction-
eer’s head, and get put in jail, possibly as a murderer. That
would be a good finish.
As I neared the auctioneer’s place, and was planning the
most sensational way in which to throw my china bomb, a sign
in a window attracted my attention. The sign read thus:
“ Premium on $2.50 Gold Pieces.
“ The United States has called in the issue of two-dollar-and-
a-half gold pieces, and we are in the market for them.
“ We offer a premium of five dollars apiece. Bring in your
gold pieces and get seven dollars and fifty cents in greenbacks
for each one. * * *7
‘
Tur Econo, : UG
I dashed into the coin and stamp store, and in two minutes
was standing on the curb, holding in my hand $22.50, which I
had received in exchange for my three gold pieces. I still had
$1.77, making a total of $24.27.
I felt like a billionaire. I blessed the cashier who had given
me the gold pieces. I blessed everybody. My landlady beamed
on me that night when I paid the rent. My wife was wreathed
in smiles when I presented her with two hand-painted china tea
cups, done by Kiera of Tokyo, which I told her were valued at
fifty dollars apiece.
Monday morning I went to work with new zest. ‘“ John,”
called a pleasant voice, as I was absorbed in my duties. I
looked up and saw the shipping clerk holding out a five-dollar
bill in my direction. I took it, forgetting to ask what it was
until he explained.
“ John,” he said, “ you gave me fa ten-dollar bill instead of a
five last Saturday. I never noticed it ’till I was on the train.”
Then I understood. The cashier had departed from the role
of four five-dollar bills, and had slipped two tens in my em
velope. I blessed him for the change. I was thirteen dollars to
the good, to say nothing of a handsome pair of tea cups. We
still have them in a conspicuous place on the plate rack.
GretoHen Brrpenseck, 715.
[This month’s literary material was gleaned largely from the
note books of the Freshman English class of last year, and is
representative of the work done by that class in the latter part
of the spring semester. Let this year’s entering class remember
that “ what Freshman has done Freshman can do.”’—Lirrrary
Eprror. |
28 Tue Ecuo.
Editorial Department.
To the new members of our faculty — Greeting!
The saddest law of life is that of change, yet it is one which
living demands. A wise philosophy guides us to accept com-
posedly the inevitable passing of the old, and to heartily welcome
the coming of the new — as we do now. Truly, it is with regret
that we part with those of our former instructors who are leay-
ing us; but truly, it is with joy that we receive you who come to
take their places. We hope that you will like the atmosphere
of our college, but it would be rank egotism to suppose that you
will not find some unsatisfactory qualities in our “ air.’”’ Com-
ing, as you do, from other institutions, you are particularly
fitted for criticising us. “ Whoso would be a man must ibe a
nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not
be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be
goodness.” Conform to our ways, if, upon investigation, you
find them better than yours; endeavor to make us conform to
you when you are sure of the righteousness of your cause, and
the result must be mutual benefit.
For the first half of the college year the Freshmen are, to use
a musical expression, “the whole band.” However, one objec-
tion to being a member of this organization arises from the fact
that, usually, one does not realize how important he has been
until his state has passed. And, “in a larger sense, it is alto-
gether fitting and proper that” it should be this way, for other-
wise were one of our new friends to be designated as a “ Fresh-
man,” the term might be construed as having quite another
meaning from fresh, “ not old.”
Now, Freshmen, for the sake of your own happiness and pros-
perity, try not to remain “ unacclimated” longer than neces-
Tue Eono. 29
sary. Do not try to exist in your old environment when you
are surrounded by a new one. Keep in touch with the old,
surely, but ive in the new. In order to make this change easily,
come to the college “ affairs.” Get interested in the life here —
in its work and play, and don’t try to do without either. Some
people enter college with the idea that it is a convenient place
to have a good time; others believe that the work is all that
amounts to anything. “Be not deceived.” Either of these
ideas will lead you astray. Try to find a safe middle course,
and follow it. Do your work, but have your play. ‘ Be tem-
perate in all things.”
Lost — an active friend. If the term friend be interpreted
widely, friends may be classified as active and passive. Per-
haps most of us have friends who wish us well, and who would
“do us a turn” if an opportunity offered; also, we have other
friends who, it seems, are continually aiding us in some way or
other, who find frequent opportunities for service. Circum-
stances determine very largely whether a friend shall be of the
active or of the passive type, and one who may have been an
active friend in the past may necessarily become a passive friend
in the future, and vice versa. Tur Ecno feels that it is losing,
not a friend, but an active friend, and we desire at this time to
express our gratitude to Dr.-William B. Aspinwall for the many
services he has rendered our paper, and to wish him godspeed.
‘Lo! they have risen up and have left us. It is hardly to be
expected that any building, designed for a collage, could be used
as an office building and a college combined without some in-
conveniences being experienced by the people of each oeccupa-
‘tion. Some of our instructors have been unable to occupy their
30 Tue Econo.
rooms, and have had to hold their classes in other class-rooms,.
where they were only temporarily “at home.” It has been
rather difficult for students to find quiet places for study. Va-
rious noises, connected with the work of the Education Depart-
ment, have been quite disconcerting to the classes at times. This
is only a part of our familiar “ tale of woe,” but we should not
forget that the Department undoubtedly found our presence as
inconvenient as we did theirs. Their new quarters should be
much pleasanter, and their absence will certainly make our col-
lege life happier, so all is well.
“A penny saved is a penny got.” It is our opinion that a
good paper ought always to be concerned with furthering the
interests of its subscribers. Now, in light of the above maxim,
if we can save you, not one, but twenty-five pennies, you must
admit that we are aiding your financial interests. The case is:
this. Tux Eco is your college paper, and we are going to»
make it absolutely impossible for you to do without it. Besides,
even if you should be able to struggle along, our subscription
managers will make life miserable for you. So it is perfectly’
clear that you must subscribe, and, as you will notice, our terms
are one dollar per annum, payable in advance, or one dollar and
twenty-five cents when not paid before October 15th. Now do
you not see that we have shown you how to save twenty-five pen-
nies? It is so easy. Subscribe for Tun Eouo — now.
Tur Ecuo. us
News Department.
[The space of this department is occupied during the college
year by items of news pertaining to the several classes, and to
the college organizations which are described in the Students’
Handbook. Owing to the fact that this issue of our paper is
made up before the opening of college, only a limited amount
of news can be presented at this time.—Nerws Eprror. |
FACULTY NOTES.*
Dr. William B. Aspinwall, who has resigned, has been suc-
ceeded by Leonard A. Blue, A. M., Ph. D.
Professor Alfred E. Rejall has been succeeded in the Depart-
ment of Psychology and Philosophy by George S. Painter, A.
ANE) Vesey 1D)
Three of our faculty members — Miss Dunsford, Miss ‘Steele
and Dr, Ward — spent the summer in Europe.
Dr. Ward is teaching French this year.
Miss Peters, of the Domestic Science Department, has been
succeeded by Ellen Huntington, B.S. Miss Willett, of the same
department, has been succeeded by Eva Wilson, B. 8.
John A. Mahar, A. B., Pd. B., is the new instructor in the
French Department.
H. M. Douglas, M. E., is teaching mechanical drawing and
mathematics.
T. Antoinette Johnson, B. A., is teaching Latin and mathe-
matics.
*Further information in regard to our new faculty members
will be printed in the next issue of Tum Ecuo.
32 Tur Ecno.
Y. W. C. A. NOTES,
The Y. W. C. A. welcomes the incoming Freshman class to
share in its activities this year. It also invites the Freshmen,
as well as the upper classmen, to attend its meetings, of which
notices will be posted on the bulletin board.
College spirit is increased by songs and yells. These may be
found in the association Handbook. Learn them and use them,
Pennants, pillows, stationery and seals with the College colors
may be ordered from any member of the cabinet, at any time.
Ten of the College girls represented our institution at the an-
nual conference at Silver Bay. They were: Katherine Kinne,
Nola Rieffanaugh, Helen Odell, Katrina Van Dyck, Mernette
Chapman and Amy Wood, of the Class of 1913; Gertrude Wells,
Lora Sexton, of 1914; and Barbara Pratt and Lena Knapp, of
1915. They have come back full of enthusiasm for the place
and for the work, as a result of those ten days full of the richest
experiences. Attend the regular meetings and hear their reports
of the conference.
DELTA OMEGA NOTES.
The following officers were elected for this term :—
President, Adele Kaemmerlen.
Vice-president, Helen R. Odell.
‘Corresponding secretary, Florence Gardner.
Recording secretary, Lois Atwood.
Treasurer, Ethel Rose.
Critic, Ethel Secor.
Reporter, Marion A. Wheeler.
Delta Omega extends a hearty welcome to the Class of 1916.
The Deltas will hold their customary “At Home” to the
faculty and students of the College on the third Tuesday of each
month at the Sororiety Flat, No. 2 Delaware avenue, from 4 to
6 p.m. All entering students are especially invited.
Tur Ecuo. 83.
KAPPA DELTA NOTES.
Once more the Kappa Delta house is open, and extends a cor-
dial invitation to the incoming Freshman Class and to its former
friends to call often during the year.
Kappa Delta held its annual luncheon at the Hampton, Sat-
urday, June 15th. Dr. Hale presided as toastmaster, and the
following members responded: “To Auld Lang Syne,’ Miss.
Boochever; “ The House,”? Miss Schermerhorn; ‘Our Ideals,”
Miss Wells; “ The Prophecy,” Miss Knapp; “ Billy, the Goat,”
Miss Denny. The tables were decorated with white roses, which
formed the favors also. Of our faculty members, Miss Pierce,
Dr. and Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Kirtland favored us with their
presence. The alumnae were represented by the Misses Beulah
Brandow, Ione Schubert, Evelyn Austin, Ruth Guernsey, Flor-
ence McKinley and Ada Edwards.
At its last meeting the sorority elected the following officers:
President, Nola Rieffenaugh, 13; vice-president, Amy Wood,
713; recording secretary, Gertrude Wells, ’14; corresponding
secretary, Sylvia Rogers, ’13; treasurer, Edith Casey, 714;
critic, Almira Waring, ’15; reporter, Helen Denny, ’15.
Helen Schermerhorn, 712, spent several days very pleasantly
at the home of Miss Marguerite Alberts in Schenectady, the
latter part of June.
Prof. Kirtland and family passed the summer in Michigan.
Miss Mary Denbow, ’10, has accepted a position in the Sche-
nectady High School.
Camping parties on Lake Cayuga found two of our members
in their number: Abby Franklin, ’14, and Laura Bristol, 713.
‘Rachel Griswold, ’14, spent part of July at Lake George.
‘Dr. and Mrs. Ward have been travelling abroad during ‘the
summer.
The Misses Amy Wood, ’13; Katharine Kinne, ’13; Katrina
Van Dyck, 713; Nola Rieffenaugh, ’13; Gertrude Wells, 714,
34 Ture Ecno.
and Barbara Pratt, 715, were members of the delegation sent to
the Y. W. C. A. conference at Silver Bay.
Gertrude Wells, ’14, visited in Middleburgh, N. Y., the latter
part of July.
Helen Denny, ’15, spent the summer camping at Hunter
Lake, N. Y.
The Misses Florence McKinley, May Foyle and Mary Den-
bow, of the Class ’10, traveled abroad during this vacation.
Henrietta Fitch, ?11; Anne Quackenbush, ’11; Rachel Gris-
wold, ’14, and Edith Casey, ’14, were members of a camp at
Diamond Point, Lake George.
Kappa Delta wishes for each student a successful year. It
especially welcomes the new Freshman Class, and hopes that its
members will find college life even more pleasant and beneficial
than they had expected.
ETA PHI NOTES,
Eta Phi extends greetings to the student body. May the
members of the ‘Class of 1916 find in college life the fulfillment
of their best hopes and aspirations.
The sixteenth annual breakfast of the sorority was held on
June 15th at the Ten Eyck. About thirty members and alum-
nae were present. Miss Grace Willcox, ’12, presided at toast-
mistress. The following toasts were responded to: “ The Fresh-
men,” Miss Lillian Houbertz, 712; ‘The Seniors,” Miss Ger-
aldine Murray, 715; “Our New Officers,’ Miss M. Harriet
Bishop; ‘ The ‘ Elect,’ ”? Miss Edith Gilmore, 712. The com-
mittee in charge was made up of Miss Esther M. Mitchell, chair-
man, Miss Molly E. Sullivan, and Miss Martha F’. Kinnear.
Eta Phi regrets exceedingly the departure of Miss Me-
Cutcheon. Her place in the sorority was one which it will be
most difficult to fill.
Tue Econo. 35
Alumni Department.
The graduating exercises of the State Normal College Class
of 1912 began with the baccalaureate services, which were held
in the College auditorium on Sunday evening, June 16th. An
inspiring and memorable sermon was delivered by the Reverend
Lewis M. Lounsbury, D. D., pastor of the Trinity Methodist
‘church, of Albany.
‘Class day exercises were held on the morning of June 17th.
A comprehensive and humorous history was read by Miss Adele
LeCompte. The beautiful and touching class poem was artisti-
cally delivered by Miss Ethel Everingham. The prophecy given
‘by Mr. Harley Cook was most humerously prophetic. Miss Lela
Farnham presented the class’s gift of a beautiful chapel window
to the College, and the Husted Fellowship Fund was presented
by Mr. Howard Fitzpatrick. The class colors were “ handed
down” in a charming manner by Miss Helen Schermerhorn.
‘The Ivy Oration, delivered in an artistic manner by Miss Mar-
jorie Bennett, brought the exercises to a close.
In the evening of June 17th, a reception to the class and to
alumni was given by President and Mrs. William J. Milne.
The commencement exercises oceurrred on the morning of
June 18th. The address was delivered by President Milne.
‘The diplomas were presented and the honorary degrees con-
ferred by Dr. Milne, assisted by Dr. Aspinwall. After the exer-
-cises the Alumni Association gave a reception to. the class.
On the evening of June 18th the Senior ball was given in the
‘College gymnasium.
Miss Elizabeth Rogers, S. N. C., ’89 or 790, supervisor of the
primary grades in the San Diego Normal ‘School, Training De-
partment, has gone on an extended trip to Europe, where, dur-
ing the summer she will enjoy the delights of travel, following
za period of inspection of the schools of England and Italy. In
36 Tut Ecuo.
the latter country it is her plan to investigate the Montessori
methods of teaching small children.
Mrs. William W. Copeland, nee Ida Mushizer, 92, has taken
up her residence in San Diego, Cal.
(Mr. Allen H. Wright, 793, is serving his second year as city
clerk of San Diego, a city of 55,000 inhabitants, which is plan-
ning an interesting exposition in 1915, distinct from that at San
Francisco.
Miss Esther Trumbull, ’11, is teaching drawing in the Chat-
ham High School.
Some of the members of the graduating Class of 1912 are
located as follows:
Miss Lela Agnes Farnham is teaching English I in the Water-
town High School.
Miss Marjory Bennett has a position as teacher of history in
the Chatham High School.
Miss Florence Chase is teaching German and mathematics in
the Lourelle Academy, Lourelle, N. Y.
Miss Gertrude Brasch is teaching German and Latin in the
High School at Herkimer, N. Y.
Miss Helen Reynolds is doing departmental work in the 8th
grades in Schenectady, N. Y.
Miss Ruth Calkins is teaching English in the Jamestown
High School, Jamestown, N. Y.
Miss Ethel Anderson has accepted a position as teacher of
biology and drawing in the Jamesburg High School, Jamesburg,
INOS
Miss Elizabeth Fox has charge of the Latin Department of
the Wappinger’s Falls High School.
Miss Helen Schermerhorn is teaching Latin and history in
the Schoharie High School.
Mr. Stanley Rice has the position of principal of the Union
School at Castleton, N. Y. Miss Chloe Henderson is teaching
German and biology in this school.
Tue Ecuo, 37
Miss Adele Le Compte has charge of the French Department
in the Medina High School.
Miss Anna Boochever and Miss Anna Brown are teaching in
the Albany High School.
Miss Mildred Lawson has a position in the Ocean Side High
School, Ocean Side, N. Y.
That the very best of success may attend all its alumni
friends during the new school year is the most sincere wish of
Tur Econo.
LETTERS HOME.
Wednesday, 11, 1912.
Dear Bess:
Here I am, sitting in state on my trunk, looking out of the
window and wondering how on earth I shall ever live to unpack
— and how I shall live if I don’t unpack — and how I shall live
when I have unpacked — that is to say, how I shall live anyway.
Never did I feel lonelier nor drearier, and what is a body to do
when, he reaches the bottom notch of loneliness and dreariness ?
(Bottom notch may not be the usual expression, but if there’s a
top there must be a bottom, and just at this minute my feelings
do not soar.) But really, Bess, I’ve been doing something I
vowed I would not do—cerying from homesickness, pure and
simple. I can hardly see to write now — I know my eyes are
swelled just like a pig’s, but I will not look in the glass. I’ve
already cried so much that I begin to feel the way Alice did
when she found herself in a pool of her own tears. Not even the
mouse is lacking, for I heard him in the cupboard a minute ago.
But come, Bess, chirk up and be cheerful! The worst hasn’t
come yet.
And besides, I am not all alone in the world. There are two
girls rooming in the room next to this. I hear them now, gig-
gling and gurgling like two innocent babes, unmindful of the
38 Tun Ecuo,
sorrows of those next door. I haven’t a roommate yet, though
I’m hoping to get one, for I feel a desire to hear her childish
prattle at such times as this, when I am somber \and morose.
You see I only got this room yesterday afternoon, myself. I’m
hoping some brilliant and illustrious young lady will make
known her desire to share my humble couch, and that soon, for
it will cut down on the expense. What a painful thing to have
to be thus sordid, when one is trying to feed one’s growing brain
and to teach one’s youthful intellect to fly! (I can just imagine
that intellect flying — with a body made out of a Greek lexi-
con, an ink bottle for a head, binder paper wings, and sermon
tack feet.)
Which reminds me. They use binder paper and note books
here even more than we did in High School. So the girls tell
me, They say that the history teacher, especially, is terribly
fussy about note books. If I want to get a good start with him,
I must get a large, loose-leaved note book —so they say. I
shall get one to-night. The girls (I don’t know them, of course,
but I hope to before long —I just met them this morning) —
well they told me a lot about the college and helped me make out
my list of subjects. They were real nice and friendly, and
pointed out all the faculty and the important students. You
understand, of course, that they are old girls. I know I should
have been terribly mixed up if they hadn’t helped me and some
other Freshmen. They kind of smiled now and then at things
we said, as if we were awfully amusing, but I didn’t care so
long as I found out things. Not all the Freshmen were as fortu-
nate as I was, for there’s a big class, and lots of the old students
were engaged. I found out that there are several changes in the
faculty this year — but they’re all new to me, anyway.
I guess they’re having a reunion — surprise party — in the
next room. I hear at least twenty new laughs. I wish I knew
them apart. i
Of course, I like it here, even though I am homesick. In my
Tur Econo. 39
childish imagination I always pictured a college as a place
where stately men and women walked about, all wearing gowns
‘and mortar-boards, and all bending thoughtful eyes on the copies
of Plato and Shakespeare in their hands. But, Bess, my sweet,
“the case is not thusly.” College, my dear, is a big, red and
white building with long corridors thronged with blissful, beam-
ing maidens, and beautiful, blushing youths. (Thronged with
the maidens mostly, for there aren’t enough youths to go
’round. )
And oh, they have Athena here, too! A big, beautiful Athena,
who stands in the College hall by the main entrance. She
hasn’t just the same pose as our High School Athena, but I’d
know her, even if she had a bandeau on her head and wore a
hobble skirt. But you’ll never catch the Goddess of Wisdom in
a hobble — and when I saw her to-day I wanted to go and hide
my head in her generous skirt ‘and ery — she seemed go like an
old friend. They call her Minerva here —-but Greece came
before Rome.
Bess, if you love me as you used to, write to me, and, if you
have time, go over iand cheer up my family. They may not
miss me as much as I do them, but having Dick and me both
away at once will be pretty bad. And when you write to Dick
_ give himia little plain advice about sticking to business this year
and passing his work. Of course, I send him quarts of advice
in’ every letter, but boys very often prefer the opinions of
someone else’s sister to those of their own. Give my love to
every single solitary person I know. I could love even my dead-
liest rival during my first week from home. Don’t forget to
remind mother about giving Yellow-Wing his bath every morn-
ing, and for goodness’ sake! don’t forget to write to me. (I’ve
got a blue necktie on as symbolic of my feelings. )
Your friend in tears,
Trss.
P. S.—I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving vacation.—T.
40
Tue Ecuo.
State Normal College Supplies
fe SO
10.
AG
12.
13.
CHAS &
The Little Book Store Around The Corner,
(Cor. Maiden Lane & Eagle)
JOHN MURRAY
Stationery with S. N. C. Seal in Purple and Gold.
Everyman’s Library for English.
Standard Classics for Latin and Greek Courses.
Note Book Covers and Fillers (all sizes). “Large
loose-leaf note book.”
8804 Paper for Note Book.
3806 “ ce «
. Thot Books.
Stunt Books.
Sorority Supplies.
A New Poster—S. N. C.—The Favorite Girl.
S. N. C. Pennants.
Mottoes.
Cook Books.
Tue Ecno. 4L
STUDENT 6A R-
RATES “yr
ans Mtl
PHOTOGRAPHS OF QUALITY
STUDIO, 55 NORTH PEARL ST., ALBANY, N. Y.
CLASS PHOTOGRAPHERS OF 1910-11-12.
OUR SPECIAL
College Panels, $1.50 per doz.
HUDSON RIVER 774-J H. R. Phone 323 West -
GOODYEAR witiam 5. oawson
RAINCOAT CO.
ee Men's Furnishings
MSHS ONS AND
CRAVENETTES _| Hats, Gloves,
FOR MEN AND WOMEN
24 SO. PEARL IST.,
ALBANY, INSEY ' 259 CENTRAL AVENUE
Umbrellas and
Suit Case
42 Tue Eco.
YOUWK ATTENTION
IS DIRECTED TO
SHAKESPEARE’S Handy good type edition, with notes by
PLAYS Gollanz and a glossary. Four different
30c. a volume. titles for a dollar.
CASSELL’S Double vocabularies, with large black-
FOREIGN faced type. Quite complete and es-
ecially ood on idioms, abbreviated
DICTIONARIES ; * 3
forms, etc. Made for Latin, French and
$1.50 each. Gon ane
LIEU Exact translations of the classics in a
TRANSLATIONS small and convenient form. Also a full
35c. each. line of “interlinears” at $1.50 each.
NOTE BOOKS Same size as text-books. Ninety-two
Be. each. pages of fine ink paper, well bound in
press board covers, 5c. each.
For Sale at
John Skinner’s Bookstore
Opposite Whitney’s
44 North Pearl Street H. R. ’Phone, Main 962
Tur Ecuo. 43
Quality First — Then Best Values and Service
Open Saturday Hvenings Until 10:30
Steefel Bros.
Quality Clothes for Men and Boys
Steefel Quality Clothes
For Fall (912
Are now ready—To our old friends this
announcement will be sufficient—to those
who for various reasons have not given us
their patronage we say why?
Why not come this season—the Steefel
store will make it worth your while.
Fall Suits are priced $10 to $45—Fall
Topcoats $12 to $35.
Headquarters for
Steefel Clothes Stetson Hats
Manhattan Shirts Johnston & Murphy Shoes
44 Tue Ecno.
EYRES
Flowers Are Always
Beautiful
Store 11 No. Pearl St. Both Phones 208.
WILLIAM BOYD
PRINTER
27-29 Columbia St., Albany, N. Y.
H. BUCHOLZ & SON
THEATRICAL, HISTORICAL AND MASQUERADE COSTUMES.
WIGS, BEARDS, MASKS, PAINTS, POWDERS, ETC.
275 MAIN STREET. PHONE. SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
Tur Econo, 45
Our Fall showing of High
Class Footwear is now being
displayed for Men and Wo=
men.
GYMNASIUM SHOES
A SPECIALTY
H. W. BALDWIN
N. Pearl St. cor, Maiden Lane
“ Freshes ”” * Sophs ”
“ Junes”’ and “ Senes”
THE
COLLEGE JEWELER
Around the Corner.
OTTO R. MENDE
3 Doors above Robin St. on
Central Ave.
CRAYONS FOR EVERY USE
Send for samples of full line.
BINNEY & SMITH CO.,
81-83 Fulton St., N. Y.
. American .
Book Gompany
Publishers of the Leading
SCHOOL AND COLLEGE
TEXTBOOKS
100 Washington Square,
New York City:
46
Tue Ecuo.
BEN V. SMITH
Optometrist
Our one price, one
quality and desire - to
please - you - policy
means better glasses
for better eyesight.
Wear the SHUR-ON
to get Eyeglass Suffic-
iency.
50 Norra PEARL sTREET 5()
-¥ 01.
Can always get the best
Flowers
GLOECKNER’S,
The 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 Ecuo. 47
Warren & Co., Inc.
Address :
General Offices and Factory : 489 Fifth Avenue,
108 Fulton Street, NEW xORK
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
48 Tue Ecuo,
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
Unper Direction oF
FREDERICK W. ROCKWELL
Musie Daily Daring Dinner and After the Play.
Sunday Eveniee ann Special ‘Orbheattet Program
. PSY Music by Holding’s Orchestra, > _
