THE MESSENGER
Subacriptton Price $1.00 Per Almum. 11:ntered at the Poet Office at Richmond Collage, Va., JU. 2nd clael matter.
VOL. XLVII MARCH, 1920
R - /{G d C ~1 1chmon . ol ege Department
E. B. Willingham, 121. ...............•.•. ,
Editot-in-Chief
K. E. Burke, '21. ................ ,. ... , .............. Assistant .Editor Chas. F. Leek, '22 .................................. BueineBB Manager W. R. Loving, '21. ...... ..•. , ...•.......••. Assistant BU8inees Manager
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
Mu Sigma. Rho Philologian
V. C. Hargroves
M. L. Skaggs
B. U. Davenport
W. E .. Hatchat, Jr.
R. F. Edwards
C. W. Newton
THE RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER (founded 1878; named for the Southern Literary Messenger) is published on the first of each month from October to May, inclusive, by the PlIILOLO<lIAN and MU SIGMA RHO Literary Societie •, in conjunction with the students of Westhampton College, Its aim is to foster literary composition in the college, and contributions are solicited from all students, whether soetety melnbere or not. A JOINT WRITER'S MEDAL, valued flt twenty-ftve dollars, will be given by the two societies to the writer of the best article appearing in THE MESSENGER during the year. All contributions should be handed to the depaitment editors · or tho Editor-in-Chief by the fifteenth of the month preceding. Business cotn, munications and subscriptions should be directed to the BU8iness Manager and Assistant Business Manager, respectively.
Address-
THE MESSENGER, Richmond College, Va.
EDITORIAL
"I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part.'' The college community is sometimes spoken of as a world to itself. However true that statement may be, we feel safe in likening it to Shakespeare's stage. The years come and go and the old college remains. Many Entree young men and women pass through its halls in search of knowledge, and, after pausing for a few years, pass on to other ,parts. Every four years an entirely new caste is seen on this academic stage. Some characters are serious, some comic, many romantic, and a few tragic. Some of the players seek the spectacular parts, while others are content to take their places in the throng which creates atmosphere and lends background to the scene.
Before many new moons shall pass there will come an intermission in our performance. When the play is again resumed, the absence of our present senior characters will be noticeable, and the places which they now fill will be he]d by others. In order that there may be no hitch in the continuity and smoothness of the scene, however, many of these more ex.perienced players step from their prominent roles a little previous to their final exit in order that they may tutor their successors and help them to overcome nervousness and stage fright. Such is the case with the Editorial Staff of the Messenger. Those who have performed so well for the past year have completed their parts and given us, their successors, the cue to enter. With this issue of our magazine a new staff enters upon its work. We trust that the past good work and high standards of this ,publication will be maintained and, if it is possible, improved upon during our administration. Let each man in college realize, however, that The Messenger is dependent upon the student body for material and support. Your short stories, poems, and essays are requested. The editors will do all in their power, plus your help, to produce a worthy periodical. We welcome suggestions.
Someone has said that time is divided into years so that men can make new resolutions on the first of January. Possibly oµr college year is divided into three parts so we can renew old resolutions at the Carry beginning of each term. At any rate we emerge On from the cramming exp eriences of our examinations with good intentions of never letting it be thus again with startling regularity three times a year. Two semesters of 1919-20 have passed. Before us stretches thje last lap of our course strewn with opportunities and da'Illgers. The warm weather will call some to outdoor sports, others will feel a desire to get out and be a part of nature as it blossoms forth with new life, and still others will experience the truthfulness of Tennyson's observation on the season. While these and most otiher collegiate distractions are good and quite necessary in their places, let us not be too easily persuaded to forget our studious pursuits and recent good resolutions in their behalf. Before the predicted epidemic of spring fever breaks out in our midst, transform all possible work into past experience and let your new term's resolution live to see the fruit of its labors. So work, that when June comes, thou mayest approach thy exams like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams.
"To make the world safe for Democracy!" How often have we heard this almost trite expression. And yet the phrase has found its place in our speech because it conveys a vital thought. We who are so fortunate On the as to be in daily contact with the Pierian Spring Square hear another expression on almost every hand, viz. '' The Well-Rounded College Man.'' We hear these words uttered as an incentive to literary act~vity on our part by the enthusiasts of the Literary Societies. The athletic directors would regard them as a ~eans of conjuring us to more extensive participation ~n the realin of sports. Surely the professor is justified in quoting them to provoke a full er appreciation of in-
16 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
tellectual attainment. The treasurers of social organizations constanly remind us that we are putting vitalit y into the thought when we are on good financial term s with them. From all sides we hear the same refrain-be a well-rounded college man-and after all that should be our aim.
Richmond College has recently had another side of this ideal :man brought to its attention-a: phase which we probably hear least about but should consider the most. During the mMtings which have just passed, the place of religion, not religiosity, in ou-r ~ducation.:a.nd lives-was impressed npon us. The manliness of high ideals and the courage to stick by them was the key thought of the week's services. Spencer defined education as a prepa • ration for complete living. After the inspiration which we have recently received it will be impossible for us to consider that we are completely educated or "well , rounded college melil" without incorporating this phase of college life into our being and assuming a position of leadership and responsibility among the things that are really vital in our college careers as well as in the life that is to follow.
WISHES.
T. S. Buckley, '23.
If wishes were thlings we could have by command, I'd build you a garden most beauteous and grand, With sweet-smelling flowers of most wonderful hue, And I'd shower it eacl;t morning with diamond-dust dew.
In the center a castle would rear it's :fineheight, All shining and sparkling like stars in the night; I'd curtain the windows with purple and gold, With a million bright rubies in each silken fold.
In this garden the Fountain of Youth I'd have play, In the waters of which you could bathe every day, And your fair form, by sorrow or care undefiled, Would be kept fresh and sweet as the flesh of a child.
An angel would watch from a pearly-white tower, So that no one could enter your mystical bower, Bright fairies would grant every slightest requestYou'd have only to think of it, they'd do the rest.
Then sometimes I'd come, like a breeze, unaware, And frighten the sunbeams that slept in your hair; Or as you walked below, I would blow up above, And whisper sweet songs of the wonder of love.
But all this is "if," and I know it can't be, For the power of the gods isn't given to me; So I'm wishing you happiness, health, and good cheer, And may God bless and guide you through all the New Year.
18 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
SHOT FROM BEHIND OR "CRAPPED OUT."
W. G. Keith, '23.
Early that morning at Camp Harry J. J ooos, the bugler had issued from his tent and blown that old familiar call-pay-day. Since that time long lines of khaki clad figures had gone in at the commissary door, saluted, and taking up their money, retired to the many tents over the camp.
One of the great pastimes of the camp was gaming. At pay-day it reached its height. From the company streets one could hear the sounds of dice as they rolled and clicked, mingled with the calls of card players. All day long the games would continue in the batteries. Then at night there would be staged a final contest in the Medical Department tents. The former was a kind of elimination contest in which the ·batterymen vied, to find who should carry the largest amount to the great game_. Thie latter was a game in which all met as rich soldiers and when they parted all but one went away poor.
Battery "0" was the first to be paid that morning. First Sergeant "Pickey" Elder was gradually acquiring all the cash which his battery was trusting to the chance of fortune.
"Picky" was proud. He had been the champion for two successive pay-days. He held his head high with pride and boasted of his stakes. There on one side of his tent stood a late model of a Franklin. It had been the property of "Fleecy" Leonard, but on last pay-day it had come into his possession. Out from his blouse pocket there peeped a giant Yukon. Most of all he cherished a giant bloodsitooo of purest Arabian quality which had come to him from Wally Scott. The old soldier admired it with an appreciation of what it had cost him. Scott was a young recruit from Cincinnati, who boasted that he had never been beaten. There on Elder 's finger was mute testimony to his prowess.
''Picky,'' veteran of four campaigns, former cowpuncher and prospector, was superstitious. Sometimes
he feared that his good luck would lead to bad. He was one of those rough plainsmen who believe in witches and ghosts of the massacred who sleep unburied on the plains. Everything that came into his life was an omen of good or evil portent.
As he stood before his tent the postman came by and thrust into his hand a letter. Inside was a playing card. As it fell out he noticed that it was a Queen of Hearts. On one side was written: "Remember Me," on the other "Look Out-Or Crap Out."
This little message threw him into a state of despair. In swift succession there came to his mind different scenes of what that could mean. He remembered the card. On last pay-day when he had won so big a wager that card had once stood in his way and it had b een tossed aside behind a cot. Now someone intended to use it as a club over his head. That was a bad omen.
A fierce wild sandstorm sprang up that day. For hour after hour the savage hurricane beat down upon the duncolored tents. But the :fierceness of the storm did not abate the gambling fever in the soldiers. Men rushed from tent to tent hunting games. They played on despite the confusion. The sand lifted high by the mighty wind rushed through the tents and covered the beds with an umber blanket. The tarpaulins would fly loose and all the cards be scattered over the room.
The game was already in progress in the Medical tent of Tom Redden. Black Jack was the order. Seven or eight men crouched around a cot watched the cards as they brought money or took it away. There was no noise or commotion save for the howling storm and the monosyllables of the players: "Pass,' '"Good," "Hit me,'' '' Take it,'' and so on. Around the game several soldiers lay stretched out on the bunks. Their faces Were long and dejected for they had lost.
The game was interesting. Suddenly a puff of wind lifted the fly high off of the frame. One of the players rushed to tie the ropes at the stoop.· As he did so there was a heavy push from the outside. Someone was try-
ing to get in. The flap was opened and there was "Picky."
What an omen, he thought. To have the door closed in one's face did not portend good fortune. He was sullenly greeted when he crouched at the cot and pulled out his wallet. Not a man around the table cared for him. Not a one but that at some time had played a losing game with "Picky."
He pulled out :five silver dollars and placed them on the cot. .At the same time ''Red'' Rich at the end of the bed put down two nickels. Now it is the order among plainsmen that when one comes to a game uninvited and that one is undesired, he is asked to leave. It is done in a very significant manner. If the stake or limit is very high then a player drops in a few cents as stake, and calls for a deal. This is a warning to leave. No one but a fool would stay after that. "Picky" left.
Over in another tent "Wally" Scott was trying to build his fortune with dice. There all was fair and honest. To make the cubes roll and break was his care. To this tent "Picky" came.
Scott had just placed a great stack of bills on the table and was calling for some one to "fade" him. Just as "Picky" entered the door he cried out "faded." The others glad of a chance to quit so uneven a game left it to the two.
Here was a championship game. Just as two bulls meet and fight for the herbage, the water, and the right to lead the herd, so fought "Picky" and "Wally." .Away rolled the dice. "Picky" was "falling off." His stack of bills began to dwindle and finally all were gone. Everything was gone except the car and the bloodstone. It was his desire to beat Scott twice. Confidence was his. He knew well that soon the luck must play back into his hand. The car was going value by value. On they played. The car was all but gone. Now the car was gone.
Both! men stood there with perspiration on their faces They studied the board as an astronomer studies the skies.
"How much for the ring1" asked "Picky," his voice childishly pleading and almost pathetic with the humiliation.
"I believe you gave me two fifty for it the last time," · said Scott, grinning a triumphant stare at the other. "Picky" pulled off the ring and started to hand it to him. His eyes turned to admire the stone for th e la st time. It was gone. What an omen. His charm ston e gone. Disaster must lay ahead.
It was the last stake. Scott lost. Then the dice chan ged and "Picky" began to "pick up." He threw again and gain and won. He could not loose. The car was again his. Finally half of the bills there on the ta bl e had come back to their former owner.
'' Come on you d-recruit and show your meat,'' he shouted at Scott, '' shoot it all.''
Scott could do nothing but take the bet. To refuse was to be forever taunt ed with the fact of being yellow.
''Shoot,'' then finally returned Scott. "Picky" snatched the dice from the blank et. It was his supreme throw. On this turn d epended his rep u tation and also his financial welfar e for the coming month. Long he clicked th em over his h ea d .
Back in the other tent the Black Jack g am e wa s w ell in pro gress. Alex Anderson had ju st thrown a Bl a ck Jack and was offering the deck at two dollars. No bids wer e offered. Alex began to deal out the cards. Th er e came the same monotonous gutterals: "Pass," "Hit," ''Good,'' ''Take it,'' etc.
Anderson was a dexterous dealer of cards. For two series the pot had not yielded a good amount of money. Fair means would not succeed. He decided to use other methods. So does every gambler when it serv es him best. They are honest if it pays to be that way, but when other roads will lead them to the goal of gain, then they forsake the road of honesty. Anderson stacked the deck after the last rake off. When it cam e time to ''hit'' he threw down an ace of clubs.
22 EICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
"Wait, wait," shouted Rich from the end of the cot. '' Don:'t rake in that money.' 1
.Anderson paid no heed to Rich but reached out his long slim fingers to take in the stack of bills.
"Stop," shouted Rich, "I had that ace the last time." As Rich said this he snatched out his guard weapon and leveled it at Anderson's heart.
It takes a brave man to look down the barrel of any gun and yet be able to act. '£he dealer rushed toward Rich and grabbed the bills, His action was followed by a general commotion in the tent. Several men rushed out, others fell to the floor. .Anderson started for the door, but ifulefinger of Rich was on the trigger. He, started the cylinder to revolving. The revolver began to fir e. .Anderson ducked and was gone.
There w:as a shout over in the next tent where Elder and scott were gaming. "Picky's" ipoint was eight. He was working hard to make it. He bent low over the dice as if to read them. Suddenly he reeled, shook, and col~ lapsed. The dice fell out of his slackened hand.
They picked him up from the floor. The ball from Rich's gun had entered his back just below the fourth rib and, turning upward, pierced his shoulder blade. He was dead. There on the table lay the dice. On one there was a five; and on the other two.
PICKY HAD
"CRAPPED OUT."
LINES. qWoc," '22.
I was but a simple atom of the great uncertain , iqass, But a vaguely gliding mortal with the fickle crowds that pass;
I could visualize no object in the fut~re then unknown, I distinguished no incentive in the chances that had flown.
Ah, b~t now I whisper different when I meditate within, When in pure sincere communion I revolve the oft hasbeen.
For a lighted torch now guides me on the path of Primrose Blooms
And before my wakened being now her person always looms.
1Since that ev'n in the garden whelli those soft etherial strains
Crept in music to me thinking, like the ghosts that tread the lanes;
When it whispered to me dreaming in a vague uncer .. tain mood,
A word of utmost pleasure and a message from the wood: "Love has found thee, love has bound thee whilst thou pondered unaware.''
And now we journey sweetly while my Eva chases care.
PAN-SLAVISM AND THE CZECHOSLOVAKS.
Daniel Slabey, '22.
I observe that Russia, its life, p~oples, manners, and customs, possibilities, and so on, is becoming a field for literary writers, especially among the fair fellow students of our sister college. No, my aim is not to discourage them but the contrary. My contribution will not take the Russia'Ill or any phiase of his life as its topic, but a sister nation, the Czechoslavaks, a branch of the great Slav race. This nation existed in subjugation and slavery for centuries but when its opportunity came, it liberated itself and, as a result of the late war, has recently taken its place among the Illations of the earth.
I presume that you all know where the republic of Czecho-Slovakia is situated geographically. If you do not, take a fairsized mrup of the continent of Europe, find the old dual-monarchy, which no longer exists, the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Run your finger from the northwestern section of Austria-Hungary a little above the city of Prague, which is the capital of this new state, and proceed southeast along the Carpathian Mountains, to the kingdom of Roumania. Here you have covered the general territory which is to compose our new sister republic.
I will also presume that you know what states (for it will have states like our own United States) are included in the term Czecho-Slovakia. Probably, you have forgotten, for those Slav names are hard to remember and harder to pronounce so I will name them for you. They are Bohemia, Moravia, Slovakia, part of Silesia, and the autonomous Ruthenian state.
No attempt will be made at present on my part to discuss the previous history of the new state, for each of the states seems to have a history of its own, and therefore must be taken separately. One fact I wish to disclose, is that this is not the :first time that the CzechoSlovaks existed as a, self-ruling nation. An attempt was made during the years 627-662 to form an empire of the Slavs but this was unsuccessful. In reality Czecho-Slo-
vakia was a mighty kingdom known as the "Great Moravian Empire" in the ninth century under the King Svatopluk, a state which ! disintegrated when his three sons succeeded him. Since that time various sections of the state have aimed for and dreamed of an independent Czecho-Slovak state or a league of all the Slavs. Among these aspirants the great Czecho-Slo-vak poet, Jan Kollar, is the dominant figure. Their poems and lyrics expr ess their desire for liberty and union. As an exampl e, I will give you a translation of on e of th eir poems:
Ho, all ye S l a v s, what are glories 1
In all our veins one bloo d tarries,
From the Urals to wh er e the Balkans la v
To the Slavs dawns a b eautiful day. •
In the land of the Ruthenians, In the country of Dalmatians
Where flow Oder, Suav e, and Dneiper
There stands the Slav's son's land forever.
And where the Tatra Mountains stand,
And where the Elbe breaks on the strand:
Up then, all ye brothers, up ye faithful!
Let the binding shroud from ye fall!
(Extract from poem "Bratislava" by Juraj Bulla.)
You will immediately accuse thi s poem of Pan-Slavism in the sense of Pan-Germanism. There has been and is at present, that sentiment among some of the Slavs which is termed Pan-Slavis:m. but not in the German sense. As I understand it, Pan-Germanism means to bring th e various nationalities and countries under the rule of one, Germany, through force and intrigue. Pan-Slavism, on the O'ther hand, as I define it from the various Slav authorities, is the union of all the members of the Slav race for the purpose of promoting culture and industrial progress and bringing about co-operation and broth erly feeling. Its aim is not world domination by the Slav
race as some see it, but, the means for the betterment and advancement of its people.
Is this possible 1 The great Ozcho-Slovak poet, Jan Kollar, who is called by his countrymen "the Father Qt Pan-Slavism,'' and his contemporaries did not have a very hopeful view of it ever becoming a reality or a su,c.cess. The present situations in the various Slav countries indicate that it may never come to pass, at least for years to come.
·what part would Czecho-Slovakia have if this movement would become a success 1 She, in truth, be?"an this movement and since she is the most cultured amoug the Slavs she would be bound to play an important part. Prior to this war Russia was looked to by the lesser Slavs as the savior, protector, and head of their mce. Her action in the latter part of the late war has 1,rought hler down from her p ed estal. The admirable conduct and heroisms of the Czecho-Slovaks have given .th•.:"!rnher place. This fact is admitted by many of the Slavic g roups and they look to her for support inste ·ad of Russia as in the past. Her culture whid, 1s the gn•atest and best among all the Slavs also gives her this distinction. During her present short existenec among· nations she has done remarkable work in m:=ttters of education. Her primary schools have increased ten tirnes tl1eir former number and indications show that tley will be increas ed four times more than they are at pres0r..t. She has three universities situated at Prague (Bohemia), Brno (Moravia), and Bratislava (Slovakia). 'The first, wh i ch was found ed in 1348, had 7049 students registered this school year while the other two have a smaller nmH· b er of registrants since it can be said that they wN'C ,in!:-t recently founded.
The Mini st er of Education, Gustave Haberman, is a Czech who has spent many years of his life in the Unitc,1 States. He is introducing American methods of edur.1:1tion which are admitted to be the best in the world. Natually, his system and methods are copied and adopte_d by nearby Slav states. We here see that Amt>rica 1s playing an indirect part in this movement.
In industry the Czecho-Slovaks are also the leaders among thie Slavs at present. Although their few mills and factories and their mines have been heavily devastated by the Austrians, economically, they are far better than their neighbors. In Bohemia are found the famous Skoda steel works which supplied cannon and munition for the Austrian army, but which are now controlled by Czechs, producing farm implements and machinery. This plant is second in importance in Central Europe, the Krupp works in Germany being the first. Although Czecho-Slovakia lacks raw material for clothing she does not lack in foodstuffs. Her harvests were so great last y ear that she has enough for herself and some to spare for her neighbors. She also has a national currency and gold reserve. One of her greatest achievements is how she solved this problem from :p.ractically nothing to begin with. Her able ministery saw the steady depreciation of the Austro-Hungarian crown and since there was no Czecho-Slovak currency one had to be created. This is the way the task was done. In order to have a gold reserve she asked for volunteer gifts of gold and silver . from the people. The call was gladly answered and the people responded by donating their old heirlooms, sl!ch as watches, earrings, rings, chains, silverware, a'lld the like. The call was even answered by many of their countrymen in America. I have personally glanced into some of their newspapers published in the United States and read the plea and long list of contributors. But still a gold reserve was not sufficient, for the only kind of money in circulation was that of the dual monarchy. So a proclamation was issued that all money must be turned in at the various banks within ten days where it received the stamp of the Czecho-Slovak government. Ten per cent of every person's money was kept by the local bank which later exchanged it for government currency. As a result the Czech crown rose in value, seventeen being the number equal to an American doliar, while on the other hand thirty-five Austrian crowns were necessary to have the same monetary value. The face value of the Austrian crown was reduced one-half in the republic when un-
stampd. This system was also adopted by Jugo-Slavia helping them in solving their financial problems.
The Czecho-Slovaks are in the precedence in the development of their literature, medicine ( they have their own Red Cross), policy of government, and the management of their foreign affairs. Their system of communication is based on the American plan. The opportunities for advancement and possibilities for development are great, for the country may be said to be still in her formative stage, having had no chance to extend and improve her condition under the yoke of Austria. This obstruction has been removed and indications show that the Czecho-Slovaks and the Slavs in general will pla y a more important part in the world of nations than th ey have done in the past.
JAKE PLEASANTS.
A. S. Ganzert, '22.
Personally I remember but little of this most singular of men, Jake Pleasants. That he really existed there can be no doubt. His house, his lands, the spring, and, until quite recently, even the crumbled ruins of the brewery itself, all bear testimony to the fact. Then too, many of the older inhabitants knew the man quite intimately.
The estate upon which his tragic life was passed, lies just east and, at the present time, is incorporated within the city limits of Richmond. A rather large creek flows through the lowlands of these woods and for many years has been a source of youthful jollity for the aquarian type of boy. Here he has blocked the water course with fallen trees and plastered the more bolder openings with rocks and leaves and other debris.
The results of these Lilliputian efforts, bear such names as only a boy's fancy can conceive to be suggested in the general surroundings. There is Yellow Belly, Fall Hole, Three Trees, Double Arch, Iron Bottom, and a host of others of lesser renown.
It was here that Jake Pleasants spent his life, and rarely if ever did he leave this haunt, except to go back and forth to his work at the Chimborazo Brewery. A spring of unusual purity and coolness furnished the necessary water to the brewery and it stands today pouring out its precious liquid as a grim reminder of the man.
Guy Morris, who, in those days collected and grazed the community's cattle, probably knew Jake as well as any man, for it was upon a part of Jake's lands to the far side of the creek that he had secured the right to graze his cattle. But Richmond had long ago outgrown the period of the backyard barn and Guy, of course, lost his job. But he had spent far too many years in those sweet smelling pastures to be thus suddenly deprived of his herd. Consequently he now stalked through the dim
shadows and cool rooks of Jake's woods with an exceedingly old black dog and an imaginary herd, which to judge from the many commands given the feeble dog, caused him no end of worry by their habits of straying.
"Snurly; heifer crossing the creek," he would say pointing down the hill with a switch, and the old fellow as adept at herding make-believe cows as he had long ago tended the more troublesome real on es, would creep behind a thicket and lie down until he judged he had abs ented himself long enough. Then he would return and in a short while would be sent again to bring another sinner into the fold.
But Guy was a man of few words, and his knowledge of things in general, which, however, was not startliI 1 , outside of cattle, was likely to pass away with him. One d ay, however , I was ind eed fortunate enxrngh to catch him in a mood entir ely foreign to his nature and being r emind ed of Jake Pleasants by the presence of his old dilapidated house, in the eaves of which countless birds were noisily chattering, I asked him to tell me about the man. To my surprise he made no protests whatever, but gazing abstractly at the weatherbeaten structure that had sheltered Jake and his family he commenced.
"Well, Jake married the sweetest and prettiest Iittle woman in all the world. God only knows how she ever came to live as long as she did, for she was one of those fragile flowers that bloom ethereally bright with a delicate sweetness and then, even as a rosebud which opens too wide its soul to the relentless elements, bow th eir h eads and are no more. She gave birth to a daughter as much like herself as it was possible to be. But the flower that had overlong diffused its precious radiance was not equal to such a strain and so drooped and faded away leaving its share of a priceless treasure to Jake. He had loved '.hli s wife teooerly and well, but the bitter cup of his misfortune was seasoned with a dash of sweetness in the person of the little one. He thought the world of the tot, and well he might, for I never saw a prettier child in all my life. It was plain that her life was as much a part of Jake's as his was of hers.''
Guy paused and in his moistened eyes there rested a wistful look for the days that were no more. I thought I had been forgotten and was about to interrupt his reverie when, with a heavy sigh, he seemingly dismissed the visions and continued.
''Now old Jake was a pretty thrifty sort of a fell ow and in addition to being the night watchman at the brewery he maintained a good flock 0£ sheep which should have netted him a nice return. But for years his profits had been consumed by a mysterious killing off. Try as he would he was never able to catch the culprit although the bloodless carcasses were regularly found in his fields. He had about decided to dispose of his flock when one morning as he was passing through the pines that bordered the green fields, he noticed what was apparently an old ewe snapping at the throat of one of his finest sheep. He was astonished and mystifi ed! In all his experience with sheep he had never before witnes sed one of the flock taking the life of anoth er, nor had he even ever heard of such an occurrence. He ran around through the bushes and emerged into the fields at a point where the struggle was being enacted, determined to slay the murderous beast. But the bloodsucker, as Jake perceived at a closer range, was not of his flock at all. It was a great shaggy white dog which he insta:rrt:ly recognized as belonging to the Farrands of King's Hill. The animal, quick to espy the aip,proacfu , of a man, bounded through the woods with the speed of a deer. Jake was highly elated at having at last discovered the slayer and immediately after having eaten his breakfast he merrily went to King's Hill.
"He found Fred Farrand-with the dog at his side-feeding his cattle, and as he and Fred had had no previous grievances he was disposed to be friendly towards him.
" 'Fred,' he commenced, 'you know I've been loosing quite heavily on my sheep for some years but I've found the guilty fellow at last,'
'' 'Good, old boy,' replied Farrand enthusiastically but at the same time -wondering what could have induced
32 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
Jake Pleasants to set foot upon, his place, 'and who or what is iU'
" 'It's your dog, Fred. I caught him at it this morning,' answered Jake lightly.
"'You caught my dog in the act of killing your sheep 1' questioned the other incredulously, alternating his gaze between Jake and the pretty white animal which stood looking into his face. 'Why that is impossible! The dog never leaves the place!'
" 'But I tell you it is not impossible! I caught him red handed and I want you to keep him tied up,' replied Jake somewhat nettled.
" 'Jake Pleasants,' returned the other regarding him with a contemptuous look, 'I don't know what motives you have in attempting to lay the blame on the dog but I'm absolutely certain he never goes beyond my fences and I'll be d-if ever I put a chain on him.'
''Jake was highly enraged at having his word thus doubted and angrily replied, 'very well, but the next time I catch the brute I swear I '11kill him.'
"'You'd better be d-sure he's on your place before you do any killing,' retorted Farrand, ' or you '11live to regret it.'
''Jake deemed an answer unnecessary and with his heart full of bitterness towards his neighbor he returned to his home.''
"But," resumed Guy, biting off a generous chew from his plug, '' the killing of the sheep continued; in fact it was worse than ever. Jake kept a revolver in readiness to shoot the dog. It was long before he had an opportunity to use it. One evening, however, he went to his work brooding mightily over the accursed sheep. His little girl walked with him as far as the spring, as she was wont to do. There she lingered a while to paddle and play in the cool water. Jake went into the brewery . and, as was his custom, drank deep of the :flagrant heart beer that he might the better keep his lonely vigil. Ordinarily he would have chosen the weak lager but tonight he was worried so it was thJeheart beer. The stein, too, was filled and emptied more frequently than usual.
Then he sat down upon one of the kegs to think out a scheme whereby he could catch the odious beast. While thus ruminating he was aroused by a slight sound and glanced up he beheld the detested creature of his thought lying upon the floor in the light of the full moon that streamed through the grated window. He whipped out his revolver and fired thrice, but the beer had unsteadied his hand and his aim was poor. The phantom stirred uneasily and Jake, fearful lest it should escape him, picked up the keg with its contents and threw it with all his force at the creature. So great was the impact that the keg broke its iron bands and flew to pieces. His aim was good! The head was crushed and the beast moved no more.
''Jake was overjoyed at having thus ended his troubles but he instantly bethought himself that he had not killed the animal on his own lands. Not wishing to b ecome involved in any legal proceedings he therefore gathered up the bloody form and in the dead of night carried it up the hill and placed it within his meadows. He then returned to the brewery.
"The night wore slowly away. Jake's mind was now in a better position to evolve the happenings of the night and as the gray dawn melted the night's shadows he looked about him to make certain it had been no dream. Yes, it was true. There were the blood stains, which he must wipe up, and the broken keg, and here, 'ah,' he muttered, and a tender smile swept over his face as he stooped and picked up a small object which he pressed to his lips, 'how did this get here1' He stuffed it in his pocket and busied himself setting the room in order.
"When, at length, the workmen arrived Jake betook himself to his home. At the top of the hill he passed over to where he had placed the body to make sure it was there, for he remembered but indistinctly the events of the night. Yes, it was still there. Not the body of the dog but that of his own daughter!
"Jake bent over the crushed and mangled little form horror stricken, and burying his head in his hands wept bitterly. Slowly he uplifted his face, wet with tears, to
34 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
the heavens and in a broken voice mumbled; 'Oh mighty God, oh witness to this brutal murder and give me the strength to avenge the hellish deed.'
"So saying he arose, and with a set look on his ghastly face hurried home. There he seized the long barreled muzzle loader and, carefully examining the priming, departed for King's Hill. In the bramble weeds, commanding a view of the stable entrance, he crouched and waited. Long he waited, with his eyes glued upon the barn door, displaying not the least trace of impatience. Out in the barn yard a redbreast chartled forth its sweetest notes. But no heed was paid to its vocal efforts. With a pail dangling from each of his brawny hands Fred Farrand came around the corner of the barn. There was a loud report and, with a bullet through his very heart, he pitched forward and fell without a sound. Almost instantly the great white dog bounded from around the building and, stopping at the side of its silent master, elevated its pretty head seemingly unable to comprehend the affair.
"Jake glared at the animal in stupefaction. He let fall his gun and scratching his head with one hand thrust the other into his pocket. His set teeth relaxed, however, and the vacant stare vanished as he slowly drew forth a small piece of blood smeared hair ribbon. This he held in his hands, but it was long ere he summed up sufficient courage to pass it before his eyes. When at length he did so he broke out into a loud uncanny laugh. Jake Pleasants was a raving mania,c!''
Here Guy came to another of his customary pauses but after giving the old dog a few gentle strokes he resumed.
"In the course of time he regained his mentality. Poor Jake; he lived a long and lonely life. At times his grief would become well-nigh unbearable and the old craving for drink would touch upon him. It was then he would bend over the old spring and drink until sickness came upon him. This, in years, grew to be a habit more ungovernable than drink itself and one which he made no attempt to overcome."
Westhampton College Department
Editor.
Assistant Editor.
Business Manager.
Assistant Business Manager ...........................
EDITORIAL
Anna MeAlpine
Marie Crowder
Stella Hubbard
Before we begin getting our letters through aeroplane mail service, or telephoning without the vexatious medium of ''central,'' we shall have to adjust ourselves to modern conditions. In looking about us to Abreast see how the world is progressing, we find of that every business organization is vying the Times with its rival for greater efficiency and more complete business methods. We find church and state on the alert for every opportunity for fuller development. Take, for example, the banking system of the United States. It is so well established that it is able to found strong American banks in foreign COUiljtries-Brazil, China, Japan, and the like. To fill the demand for responsible positions thus afforded, choice young men are picked from colleges and universities all over the Union. In the ,political world we find the same care in training those who are to represent the United States in the courts of foreign powers. These men must be keen enough to penetrate the illltrigue of foreign diplomats; bold enough to push their country's best interest. Yet, withal, they must have the greatest tact and patience, lest in their "American imp,etuosity" they push too fast the suave time-wasting foreigner. Richmond College has been fortunate enough to see at ~lose range, a convention of American students preparing to go to foreign countires to represent the American Church of Christ. These students are called student volunteers, because they are not drafted into that service but go of their own will. In their future work thiey must
Jeffries Heinrich
36 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
needs deal with emperors and rulers of foreign nations; solve delicate questions of the orientals. In short, they must cope with any and every difficult situation in all departments of life. America must send out her best all-round college men to these foreigners, if she would have the church represented in its correct light. Richmond College has seen the volunteers that the state of Virginia has produced, and our contact with them, has strengthened and broadened our own vision of a world outlook.
Those acquainted with the finer points in culinary art know that if mayonnaise is stirred after it has been made it will "turn back." The wise chef utilizes the secrets of Corn Starch and Clubs his trade. A little boiled corn starch poured into mayonnaise before it is finished not only doubles the quantity but keeps it from '' going back'' when stirred. Perhaps this is rather a homely comparison to make in connection with the general stirring which took place in all the clubs composing the Partheno Systaesis, but upon close inspection one will see that this is what happened, yet they didn't turn back. Again the secrets of the art entered. Those who did the stirring knew that the '' corn starch'' was present in sufficient quantity to double the membership in every club and to keep them from going back.
New features are aiways desirable and each club can boast of something different. The Dramatic Club is producing more plays with better dramatic spirit and success than ever before. Modern poetry and drama receive particular emphasis at the meetings of the English Club. The Music Club not only provides opportunity for the displaying of musical talent but also includes in its programs the life histories of the artists who appear on the concert stages. To the Current Events Club an entirely new feature has been added. The League for the Study of Industrial Politics has been incorporated into that club and speakers of international reputation are expected to lecture from time to time. Such leagues exist
in many of the large universities and Westhampton feels honored in being invited to share in the privileges offered by that organization. To proceed to the last club some people have been heard to say, "Lo, we have the suffragists with us always." That "proverb" will not hold good at Westhampton any longer, for the Suffrage Club has converted itself into the Citizenship Club. Studies in citizenship are already in progress and are pursued with a great deal of interest and sense of responsibility. , In this editorial the club activities have been necessarily epitomized but it shows that '' corn starch'' is as necessary in clubs as in mayonnaise.
"Pep" is not pepper-that makes some men sneeze; neither is it that commodity, which if sprinkled on the ice cream of a green young rat, makes him ":figfu)t-." He is mad because his ice cream is College" Pep" spoiled, because many laugh at him, and a few are in sympathy with him, yet afraid to show it. This kind of pepper is decidedly a disturbing element.
"Pep," on the other hand, no matter how noisy nor eloquent it may wax, is always a harmonizing element. What is it that makes a group of college girls, while strolling around the campus, burst out in union singing, "Carry me back to old Westhampton 1" Nothing but the spirit within known as "pep."
If it is a presentation of the College Dramatic Club in the form of "Green Stockings," it is that same spirit that makes the students buy tickets and back the play "to a man" to insure its success. Or if it is athletics, college "pep" makes us practice with real team spirit. Then when the championship games come off, it makes us yell ourselves hoarse for "team, team, TEAM."
"Pep" is a unifier. Therefore "pep" is desirable if we are to have the college one in spirit. Who took the dissenting heavy TON out of Westhampton f College "PEP."
RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
TIME AND TIDE.
Frances E. Woodson, '19.
Today is the forty-sixth day of the good year nineteen hundred and twenty. If I were like my great grandmother, I would likely be remarking, '' Time and tide wait for no man.''
I am not like my great grandmother; neither am I lik e time and tide. I wait -for a man. I have been waiting in this law office nearly one hour, and I am still waiting as I write (hence the irony of any meditation on the pricelessness of time). At home wait those half-finished letters that should go tonight, that scollop I want to :finish embroidering this afternoon. And I wait here, unemployed, unwelcomed, unentertained. There is Tuothing to be seen from the window except squirrels and a policeman. Besides looking at the calendar, from which I learned this is the forty-sixth day, there is nothing to see inside-except the Exception.
I do not look at the Exception. I try to think; I even pretend that my thoughts are worth transcribing upon official yellow paper I ''misappropriated'' from the desk. But I am not thinking. I am mentally staring at that hour which is slipping away minute by minute, without record for any of them of thought, purpose, or deed to my credit. This experience is startlingly like returning to my childhood's attitude toward time. Then an hour was simply time incarnate; a day I could conceive oflight and darkness, three meals, playtime-but an hour was the unrelieved, pressing weight of incalculable, abstract time. Have you ever waked suddenly in the night, sure that some one was in the room and feeling powerless to act f I have, and I feel curiously like that today; time has become a definitely tangible, if invisible, presence in this room. I am here with it alone-except for the Exception.
I wonder how old my great-grandmother was when she :first learned the philosophy that time and tide wait for no man. I don't mean her age when she wrote it twelve times on her slate or copy book, nor that some-
RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
what later age when she pondered over the seven-word saying, and was concerned only that each had its share of the grammatical rack and tortures called "parsing . " Perhaps she did not appreciate the philosophy until long after the tim e when flowing capitals and oblique cases w ere unable to daunt her . When did I and the other great grandchildren learn this pholosophy1 We never have. We know that in the physical world of waves and winds and planets, time and tide wait not, but our attitude is not that of the generations given to quoting it. Our ancestors did not want time and tide to wait for them; they accepted the fact and were content to live under its dispensation. We rebel against its truth and devise methods for defeating its working. There is no reconciliation. Every engine of transit, every typewriter, every correspondence school, every florist's hot house, every printing press, every laboring motor, every harnessed current, every wrist-watch are our protests. Gone are the leisurely days and ways of living when people wrote and read novels of several thick volumes each, when a woman used to be engaged for ten, fifteen and twenty years to the same man, when there were no wrist-watches.
The contribution of the wrist-watch to our present persistent, desperate time - consciousness habit probably outweighs that of any other single factor. We know the number of minutes we waited for a street car; we know precisely how much time we spent on every ten pages of parallel; we time the sermons we hear delivered on Sunday; we pay workmen of all kinds by the hour rather than by the job; we report to a sympathetic neighbor a restless night and tell exactly how many night watches found us awake. I am acquainted with a girl who even knew how many seconds each day she consumed in merely putting on and off her fraternity pin, changing it from a morning dress to a street dress, ;perhaps next to a "gym" middy, to a dinner dress-or according to the events of her day. She multiplied this daily average into an astounding total for the month.
40 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
Some one might find out for us the time spent in looking at our wrist watches. Then we would feel ourselves in much the same dilemma as the gentle ladies of Cranford, who said that a formal call must never be over fifteen minutes, but thought it an epitome of rudeness to consult a timepiece during the call.
Here I was drawing all over my paper numerous little clock faces (my guesses at the time) while I kept my left hand in my muff in a heroic effort to hold myself to a r esolve not to look at my wrist watch.
Then suddenly-the closing with an unceremonious banging of the mighty tome of Supreme Court Decisions, the whirling about with a cheerful creh.king of the desk chair, and the trick was done. The Exception was no more, but the man sat smilingly facing me, his watch in his hand.
''You've won the spring bonnet we wagered,'' he said, "and won it fairly, too, one hour and nineteen minutes and seven-thirtieths without speaking a word. Are you ready to take me somewhere on Broad Street to hold the trial 1''
Outside I could see the squirrels shivering beside the fa s t froz en fountain and the ,policeman pulling on another pair of gloves over his first, but I knew that I mu st hie me to the business of getting a spring hat, for '' time and tide wait for no man.''
WHAT WILL THE HARVEST BEY FLORENCE ALLEN, '23.
It's great to loaf all day with not a single tho't of work, With laughing and chattering while continuing to shirk; To enjoy the paper and music, watch the girls dance the while,
Read the Coll egian, Messenger and Vogue just to keep up with the styl e.
It's great while in a friend's room to eat and drink your tea,
But it's quite another matter when you think what the harvest will be.
It's :fineto go to town and have a date on Saturday night; To dr es s all up and Calcimine, even if it isn't right;
To stay away from Sunday School, enjoy a day of rest; To sleep and lounge and read the things that aren't at all the best;
To know you 're acting fooli sh, yet to go on 'til you see The yellow slips in your mail box and you think what the harvest will be.
Exams are sure to roll around-'' apply'' yourself while yet you may,
For the C's and D's are increasing in a most alarming way;
The classes you had no right to cut, the parallel you should have read,
But the teachers have your number either on their book or in their head.
To loaf, play, or be careless, just any of these three, But pity upon you when reports go home, and you think what the harvest will be.
EARS.
NANNIE CAMPBELL, '23.
Most people think that ears are very unattractive, but there are some people that are fascinated by them. After a young visiting minister had finished his sermon, one of his most attentive listeners came to the front of the church and exclaimed, "Mr. Lapsley, I've been so anxious to speak to you. You have such interesting ears!'' I, too, think that ears are interesting.
The ear is seldom thought of except in a humorous way. It seems to have its own way of amusing people by its size or position. Large ears th !at sit off from the head often give the impression of resemblance to a donkey. Once there was a king of Ireland, who did not look like a donkey, but who had horse's ears. King Labra was very sensitive about his ears and always wore a closefitting crup. Once a year he chose a man by lot to cut his hair and then killed him, so that no one would know that the king of Ireland had horse's ears. A poor widow's son was chosen to be the barber one year. The mother pleaded for her son not to be killed. The king finally consented, provided the boy never told what he saw. So heavily did the secret weigh on the boy's mind that he asked a wise man what he should do. ''Walk down the road and whisper the secret to the first tree on the left,'' advised the Wise man. The royal harper broke his harp and went into the woods to get something to mend it. It happened that he pulled a twig from the tree that knew the secret. After the harp was mended, every time the musician tried to play, it would sing, "Two horse's ears hath Labra, the king!'' Then all the kingdom knew about his ears, and so never again did the king need to kill his barber.
If this king had been the court clown, he would have learned the tricks of ears and used them for the amusement of the lords and ladies. When the owner of a pair of ears does know their possibilities, he can set a whole company of people into hysterics. Often has a school-
room, or a Sunday School class, or a proper: birthday party been upset by the mysterious moving up and down of some one's ears. Generally the happy ability to wiggle one's ears is accompanied by the ability to wobble one's nose, giving the appearance of a white rabbit with its tiny nose and pink ears quivering with excitement. A rabbit's ears fascinate children, and grown-ups, too. The unusualness of the pink linings always puzzles and attracts them. They like to play with the ears and feel the smooth, soft fur under their fingers.
Ears are very certain things. They never change, except the tips turn red when a very timid person is made to blush. For this reason they can be studied as indexes to characters. In Paris when a man is examined for the office of detective, his knowledge of ears is tested. With pictures of a few men's ears, he is told to find those men in a company of three thousand. It is advisable for any person so unfortunate as to have a mole on his ear to stay on dry land, for the story goes that a mole on the ear predicts death by drowning. Ears that sit close to the head are a sign of selfishness. Small ears on a horse are very desirable, for they are a sign of good breeding; but not so with humans, for small ears stand for dishonesty.
Perhaps some one with mole ears started the fashion of puffs. To-day a very up-to-date lady is not supposed to have ears, just as the ladies of olden times were said to sew their feet on their skirts, because they sup,posedly had no legs. The old saying, '' There is nothing new under the sun,'' holds in the custom of hiding the ears, for it is not a new style, but one handed down by our ancestors, both male and female. It seems strange that the men of our time should dislike so much the girls' puffs, when a hundred years ago their grandfathers wore wigs with puffs over the ears. George Washington wore two puffs, and some times more, on each side. The twentieth century puffs surpass all others in size and in causing worry to the wearers. There are large soft puffs. the kind that seem to be a mass of hair loosely held to the
44 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
head by innumerable sliding hairpins, which must be constantly pushed back into place; there are round, smoot h ones which must be lovingly patted; there are those stuffed with mice, which insist u,pon dropping out at th e wrong time.
Puffs give girls trouble, as much trouble as ears do little boys, and s ometimes little girls. Every big sist er and nurs e knows the trials and tribulations of washing a small boy's ears. He screams , b e kicks, be bites, and does anything to stop the proc ess so disa g reeable to him. One littl e boy f elt that he w as imposed upon, and insi sted upon knowing whether hi s ears belonged to his fac e or his neck, becau se his nurse washed them when she said she was washing his fac e, and when she said she wa s wa shing his n eck.
How we all enjoy our ears, in spite of the annoyanc e to som e of us! Never would we know the beautiful sonat as of Beethoven, nor the stirring addresses of Presiil ent Wilson, nor would we have the wonderfully enchanting joy of overhearing a conversation-eavesdropping, intentional or otherwise.
Eavesdropping is a queer thing; but '' stolen fruit is th e sweet e st.'' So what is not meant for our ears delights us particularly, if, by chance, it reaches them. An eavesdropper is one who stands under eaves, near a window, or at a door to listen and learn what is said within doors. Some times eavesdropping is not intentional , but has the same effects as if it were. When: some one is telling something that he does not want others to hear, the people in the next room, in the speaker's imagination, are all ears. There was a picture in "Life" entitled "How a man feels when he is about to propose." The picture showed the girl and boy sittin:g on a sofa in the parlor, and in the adjoining room were the mother, father, little brother and pet cat, each with ears about twf>nty times their normal size. The easiest way to . eavesdrop is over a country telephone. In rural districts all the gossip of the community spreads over the country side by means of the telephon!e. Farmer Brown's wife goes
to town to buy a new hat. When she comes home, she naturally calls up Maggie Smith, who lives on the next farm, and tells her how much the new hat cost. Incidentally she remarks that she saw the parson's daughter out riding with a man. Before the afternoon is over, the neighbors who ran to the phone when they heard the Smith's ring have called up their friends. The whole community gossips about Elizabeth Anne's beau and approaching wedding, while the "man!" was merely the parson's missionary brother.
We might be better off if we were all like some people, who cannot eavesdrop, and who can only say "I heard," because of ear trumpets. How most people hate them! "Even the most self-confident conversationalists tremble and become dumb before an! ear-trumpet." When some old person looks longingly and pleadingly at me, after those around him have just enjoyed a joke or some unusual story, and turns his ear-trumpet toward me for a repetition of the tale, I feel as if I would like to fade out of sight. However talkative I may feel, my tongue becomes tied. Always the conversation among thie others in the room dies down, when I try to talk through an ear-trumpet-whether it be long, large, or like a small coffee pot. It seems to me that all eyes and ears turn toward me until I have stumbled through to the end of . the story. The most embarrassing kind are those long tubes with alli earpiece at one end and a mouth piece at the other. The little coffee-pot ear-trumpet must be the easiest to use. It is apparently little trouble to fat people, because it rests so comfortably on their shoulders. More conspicuous than the coffee-pot, but less troublesome, is the :fixture like that of a telephone central, which clamps on the head. Whatever may be the size or construction of ear-trumpets, they all play tricks on the unfortunate users.
An old lady was hostess at a dinn!er party of boys and girls. When one boy was asked if he would be served again, he answered, ''No, thank you, I've had a sufficiency."
46 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
"Been a-fishing'" questioned the hostess; "I've had a plenty," he replied in an ear-splitting scream.
"Caught twenty1"
'' Poor old soul!'' he muttered.
'' Broke your pole 1''
Then the boy gave up and was glad that his ears were reliable.
Jewelry dealers are as glad for ears as anybody else. Since ancient times women have used that ornament called an earring. Now it is merely an ornament and frequently changes in style. In olden times large holes were bored in a slave's ears, and a marked ring put in to distinguish him from other slaves. Later, among savage tribes the wedding ring was worn in the ·ear instead of on the finger. One reason for boring the ears was the belief that it helped the eyes. This ancient ,practice for jeweled earrings and eardrops was kept up until about thirty years ago. In this age of efficiency that custom is abandoned, and the ornaments for the ears are easily screwed on .and off. There is no wonder that so much attention is paid the ear, and jeweled ornaments of so many kinds are made for it, when the ear is such an important factor in the happiness of most people.
THE
EIGHT O'CLOCK CAR. (A Bit of "Local Color!")
M. B. G., '20.
The gentle slumbers of girls in town
Most horrible thoughts do mar. They have to arise by the light of the moon, To eaten the eight o'clock car.
They leap out of bed with a shivery bounce, And see one shoe by the door ; The other sits on the mantle-,piece, While their hat rolls around on the floor.
They hastily gobble a biscuit or two, And chew on some meat that is tough; Then with a wild rush leap out the door, Though they haven't had _nearly enough.
The eight o'clock car has a stuffy look, The chances to sit are remote.
The crowd's so thick that it looks like you feel With a sweater under your coat.
Into the throng they gradually ease, Packed in too tightly to drop.
The motorman yells in a cheerful voice, ''There's plenty of room on top !''
Around the curves at a break-neck speed
·The Westhampton car seems to hop, It bounces and wobbles and rocks to and fro, Then both of the trolleys drop.
At last they arrive and run up the hill, With noses a beautiful red; But now that they've landed in classes on time, We think that enough has been said!
48 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
DOLLS.
J osEPHINEKooNs, '23.
Have you ever seen a little girl who did not have, or envied those who did have, a doll? It is second nature to the little girl who is too old and daring enough to dance, coquette, and sometimes love the dangerous opposite sex like her older sister, to make her dolls dance, coquette, and fall in love, while she herself falls hopelessly in love with them. Little girls have done this ever since the dark ages when history was first begun. Have you, kind reader, ever stopped and noticed the resemblance of this kind of doll to the artificial, painted women whose life is filled with nothing except dances, teas, conquests of handsome men, and the like? The infant daughter of the family loves her old doll like fat women love old clothes; no matter how old and disreputable she looks, her young mother loves her more, and will insist upon taking her out and showing her the sights of the town-rather than take the pretty one which the· odor of newness has not yet forsaken. If this pet of the doll family should have the misfortune to leap wildly from her mother's protecting young arms and crash on the sidewalk into a million pieces, her prostrated mother has to be carried to the haven of her mother's arms where the salty drops of grief are kissed away and the puckers in that smooth forehead are erased, while the promise to have Daisy sent to the hospital and made whole again is readily given. Is this so in the case of the live doll?
When we are shown through the fascinating hospital we are, like Friar Juniper, thankful that Daisy had ·come to grief by a fall so that we are able to inspect this imitation hospital. The old blue-eyed doctor is so kind looking that you find yourself wondering how he ever has the courage to approach, knife in hand, that little dimpled darling over there in the blue ribbon decked cradle who so sadly needs a new head. From this alluring room with its rows of beribboned cradles over which the sun orders its sunbeams to frolic most of the day, we proceed
through the folding doors into the chamber of miracles, where the poor wrecked inhabitants of doll-land are changed into radiant beauties again. Here we are greeted by stiff, cold, glass cabinets in which lay row after row of smiling china heads, legs and .arms of all lengths, wigs of all colors supported by their allies, the eyes, and all manner of deadly looking instruments, with which the patients are restored to perfect health. We, like those visitors before us, flee from this chamber of horrors to the safety of our home.
There are thousands and thousands, perhaps millions, of kinds of dolls in this fast changing world of ours, but the smallest of these are so small, fascinating, and interest so many people that the '' Review of Reviews'' decided to honor them by giving them a place in one of its editions. These midgets of doll-land are made in Cuernavoca, Mexico, by the cleverest Indian maiden since the ancient building of Cuauhnahuac, when they wrote in hieroglyphics, and whose name is Isabel Belannsaran. They are made on wire frames barely three-fourths of an inch long. The clothes are put on, and embroidered, then the hair is put on and fixed. This is all accomplished in two hours, and they bring this clever squaw twenty-five ·cents Mexican gold. Perhaps you would like to know how they are dressed. "The matador is complete in every particular, his costume being gaily decorated in many colors, the hair dressed in true Spanish fashion including the conventional cue. Stockings and slippers are added, and a muleta placed in his hand. A sword is then provided and the manikin bullfighter is all ready to enter the ring so far as miniature details of dress and equipment are concerned. Flower girls are dressed after the manner of their class, and provided with small baskets of flowers in variegated colors. The hair is arranged in a double braid and parted in the middle in keeping witJ:ll the vogue. Artistic shawls brilliantly colored are hung loosely about the shoulders and the tiny flower sellers are not unlike those seen in the flower markets throughout the country.'' Some dolls are furnished with tiny
baskets of flowers brought from Guanajuato where they are made by the Indians; others have fancy hats and other paraphernalia. These midgets made their debut about eight years ago, but are found in possession of almost all of the royal families in the world today.
V{e people in the United States used to get almost all of our supply of dolls, as well as other toys, from the disgraced nation of Germany; but since we coul<l no longer rely on it, we got busy and started making them ourselves, and though they are much higher and do not look quite so natural and lifelike as their imported cousins, there were dolls in all of the stores at gay Christmas time during the war. "Every dog has his day;" so does the rag-doll, and this was her day. When the pitiful cry for dolls to keep the youth of France from being lost came, the ragdoll bravely volunteered her services. Everybody went up in the attic and took the dusty rag bag down from its peg beside the chimney, and pulled something out to make a rag doll for a French or Belgian child. Why was it that the Red Cross, when it was so badly pressed for shiproom, allowed so many of the se homely excuses of dolls go across the ocean T It was simply because they knew as long as they resembled dolls, those pitiful wrecks of humanity would love and think a million times more of them than the children of the pampered rich do of their most cherished and beautifully dressed favorite.
Who has not noticed the coquettish '' splashme'' with her gay bathing suit, and cap with the huge bow in the front which reminds one so much of an immense butterfly sitting on a peach. This factitious young bather rolls those black jet eyes at you until you, as good as you are, cannot resist the temptation of giving her the tiniest kind of a wink. This type of doll appeal.a to every age. You find little children with them; you find them in the possession of the school girl; and even older girls who have :finished school and have entered into other phases of life.
There are other kinds of bathing suit dolls sitting on the sand with an immense parasol for a background which
harmonizes perfectly with her costume, hair, and eyes. The dictionary defines this kind of a doll as, "a pretty, but empty-headed woman.'' Her admirers are not children, but wealthy men who are always looking for something new to play with. These restless pleasure seekers form a wall around their favorite and keep her bountifully supplied with cars, jewels, flowers, clotbies, and everything she wants. These parasites usually keep a certain drug store's door open with their orders for cosmetics. Their constant companion is a saucy looking toy dog with pedigree a hundred times better than their owner's.
These lap dogs are really attractive looking, but it is only when they are measured up against a real sure enough dog that they look so terribly insignificant. For instance, stand a Pekin beside a Saint Bernard and you will have a vivid illustration of the mountain and the ant. There is as much difference in the work of the two as there is in their size. The work of the Pekin is to make a striking ornament to adorn a lady's limousine, and to receive a caress when his leisure loving mistress chooses to honor him with it. The history of the Saint Bernard is well known, way these courageous dogs would go out into the bottomless snow and bring back to their monastery the travelers who had fallen by the wayside, or who wore wandering helplessly around. Compare the w0rk of these two animals and judge for yourself. The little yellow cur which runs around the streets and gets its IDP.nlsfrom the odious garbage can does better work than the little good-for-nothing lap dog, for it does give the poor rag-a-muffins of the slums pleasure, and makes the members of the police force earn their pay. Even if the vagabond dog does not do as good work as the Saint Bernard, it does not require a maid to bathe and comb it, a chef to prepare it smeals, nor a bulging pocketbook to support it, as does the pampered imitation dog.
But there are live dolls who do not possess these midget dogs, nor even cars nor jewels. These are the dolls of the front row of the chorus. They too have their ad-
mirers who lavish cabaret dinners and "jitney" rides on them. Her presents are not as costly nor their clothes as smart as thP. society doll's, but nevertheless she manages to ' 'vamp'' her tribe of admirers.
The moving pictures show those of us who do not live in a large enough city, the doll of the slums with her freakish hat pulled down so far that it completely hides one eye, while a shrieking group of cerise feathers stiffly glare at you from the back, and her shockingly short tight 1skiri. makes you scream at her attempt to keep her .fiftynine-cent "silken." clad ankles from turning, while she hobbles along on the three-inch heels of her white "kid" shoes. Yon <'.an almost hear her yelling at the grimy little Itailans playing on the sidewalk and overflowing into the gutter and car tracks, '' Hey, there you kid1:1,git out a th' way! Can't y' pipe the queen peach of this here lil ol' New York jazzing down this wayT Beat it you dirty lil' waps before I sling a alley apple at ye!'' What a Cl•ntrast and yet how like the little beach flirt sunning herself on the sand of one of the most fashionable winter resorts, attired in the very modish bathing suit and softly laughing and ordering her eyes to add another one to her already crowded court of admirers.
How like the little girl's doll with her painted cheeks, painted eyebrow, unnatural hair, and unreal to the heart, is this .pretty brainless woman. So be thou, kind reader, not a doll!
WHY NOT PENRODESST
CoRALou1sE BuTTEBFmLD,'23.
What are little girls made ofT Sugar and spice, And all things nice.
Don't yc,u remember what wicked joy you took in taunting little boys with that verseT For they, according to the same source, were composed of ingredients far less desirable. Of course the said small boy put his hands into his pockets and walked off whistling, by which he meant to indicate profound indifference. Still, there was always great satisfaction in that verse. Then, too, you sometimes saw fit to use this one:
What are little boys made on Snaps and snails
.And puppy dogs' tails.
These two you sang at the top of your lungs, with much feeling and very little tune. There were, however, two others which you only muttered to yourself when provoked beyond human endurance. If your big sister was particularly domineering, when she was well out of liearing, of coursei it was as balm to your injured dignity to repeat:
What are big girls made on Powder and paint, And chew gum till you faint.
Or, perhaps, your big brother had teased you to the nth degree. 1:1henyou hissed savagely after him:
What are big boys made ofT Get drunk and fight, And stay out all night.
If the truth be told I'm afraid that some little girls have been endowed with slightly more than their sha1:e of the above-mentioned spice. However, be that as it may, I have never been able to see why they would not make quite as interesting reading matter as little boys.
Have you ever noticed that magazines have hobbies T At one time you couldn't pick one up without finding at
least me Poor-Down-Trodden-Working-Girl story in it. ThPn Vampires were quite stylish. But the hobbies which they rode longest and most furiously were the PenrodTom-Sawyer boy stories. Everybody wrote them and everybody read them, and we all loved them. Who could resist a dear uncivilized Huck Finn Y No one could help loving a Tom Sawyer. A.nd Penrod, well, who of us does not know a Penrod in the flesh Y Yes, these little boy stories were charming, but why not p, little girl Penrod? W ouk! she not be quite as charming? Is it because men write all these stories?
Then why has no woman held up the honor .of her sex by confiding to the public some of the secrets of her little girlhood, as men have told of their boyhood 7 Why, oh why, has no woman invented a .Penrodess T As Margaret Widdemir says, '' If there is no reason wty not, there is every reason why.'' ThereforP-, behold this example of a Penrodess.
She ir. sitting surrounded by the other members of the ·'Golrlen Star Secret Society,'' in a shelterP<l nook jn the woodpile. Was there ever such a wonderful society! Allow mr to present the list of officers electrd at thP last meeting: Mi8s Penrodess, President; Winnie, Vice-President; Irene, Secretary; Gladys, Treasurer, and, may I add, that the membership consisted solely of Ginger. the small sister of Penrodess.
"I think," ~mnounced Gladys, "that we ought to keep the minutes of the meeting like they do in Mamma's society.''
''Keep the what?'' demanded Irene.
'' The minutes of the meetings,'' repeated Gladys.
"Well," sniffed Winnie, "if that isn't the silliest thing l ever heard. What do we care how many minutes the meetings last '1''
"Stupid," retorted Gladys, "I don't meant that kind. You write down in a book all the things we do.''
"0h !" said every one.
After a heated argument it was decided to keep the minutP~ and the meeting continued.
"I have called this meeting-1do be quiet, Ginger," commanded the president.
"Well, I was going to say that you know it is the rule that we have to tell each other our ambitions, and I think it's time we start. Irene; you begin."
Irene shifted uneasily.
"Well," she hesitated, "I guess it's to vault a fence like the boys do.''
''Gladys,'' called the president.
'' Oh, mine is to wear silk stockings and carry a muff.''
''Ginger?''
'' I just want to be a plain lady like my mamma.''
''Well, Winnie?''
''I won't tell.''
"But you have to, Winnie. It's the rule."
"I don't care if it is, I'm not going to tell."
The president sighed. She knew that when Winnie said "I won't," there was no use arguing.
"What's yours, Pennie?" demanded one member.
"You'll have to tell yours, you know," chimed in another.
Penrodess looked musingly into space.
'' I think, yes, I think I will be a poem.''
This made, as Penrodess intended it should, a profound impression.
Thley were quite awe-struck. Suddenly the shrill five o'clock whistle announced that it was time to go home and the meeting adjourned hastily.
Again I say, why notT Do people think that little girls lead such dull uninteresting lives that they would bore one to distraction. Fie upo11,him who even dares to suggest it I Any loyal woman could prove the falsity of this statement by a concrete illustration. For instance, don't you remember how there comes a day every spring when even mothers admit that it is hot enough) to wear your barefoot sandals. This day had finally come, and Penrodess and Ginger were walking around the back yard enjoying the thrill of it, when Dodo made his appearance on the back fence. Now Dodo, lucky boy, had been going barefoot for weeks; so Pennie and Ginger did not think it necessary to mention the fact that this was their first day.
56 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
'' 'Lo,'' said Dodo.
" 'Lo," answered Pennie and Ginger.
"What you got?" asked Ginger, noting a queer-looking object under Dodo's arm.
'' A boat, let's go sail it in the duck .,pond.''
'' All right,'' agreed the girls.
The boat consisted of a slab of wood pointed at one end, and rounded at the other, with a mast sticking up in the middle. The sails were vet to be added.
"What's the name of it, DoT" asked Pennie.
'' I dunno yet. How about Cannon Ball T''
"Oh," Pennie objected, "that sounds so warlike. Call it the Pacific.''
"N aw, that's too slow."
"Oh, I know," cried Pennie, "let's call it the Pacific Cannon Ball.''
'' Sure, that sounds great.''
By this time they had reached the pond and, rolling up his knickerbockers, Dodo waded in to launch the Pacific Cannon Ball.
"Gee, but it feels good! Why don't you all come inf" "We can't," admitted Pennie, "daddy says it will give us malaria.''
"Aw, pooh! It doesn't give me malaria. It sure feels good. The mud is so soft and nice.''
Ginger was unfastening her sandals.
"We really shouldn't," protested Pennie. She watched him fascinated, as he splashed up and doWillin the muddy water. Slowly her hand descended to her sandal buckles, and the tempter had conquered. The first touch of the cool water, the delicious feel of the soft mud oozing between her toes, and she forgot that she had ever been forbidden this bliss. Slowly she waded along enjoying to the utmost the thrill that shot through her at every step. Suddenly a great splash and a startled cry made her turn quickly just in time to see Ginger ;pick herself up from the middle of the pond. There she stood, a look of blank amazement on her face. She was dripping with thick black mud from her waist down. She held out her
muddy little hands helplessly. Her face closely resembled that of an Indian about to go on the war-path. How could they help laughing!
"We'll have to give you a bath, so come over to the hydraillt.''
Mercilessly they squirted water on her till she was a streaked yellow color. Then Dodo suggested the bonfire in his back yard. They hastened thither. Ginger undP-r much protest was forced to retire to the woodshed and there to remove a garment at a time, while Dodo and Pennie held them in the smoke of the fire on the end of sticks.
Perhaps you will say that this is all very well, but that it takes boys to have the adventureR that give the thrill to your Penrod. Girls never play ''Pirates'' and ''Robbers'' and, most exciting of all, '' 'l'reasure.'' Do not be so sure. As I look back on Penrodess I can see her moving stealthily across the back yard; her eyes, the only part of her face visible above the great bandana which Bwaths her other features, are narrowed to mere slits.
''Hush!'' she commands the small poodle at her side. Her voice is deep and guttural. Occasionally she crouches in a shadow and looks suspiciously over her shoulder. In the secrecy of the chicken-house she waits impatiently until her equally desperate confederate knocks three times, slowly and impressively.
'' Who goes there?''
''A friend.''
'' Give the pass word.''
"Oh, Pennie, I've forgotten."
"Ginger, will you never learn that it's 'bucketc;:;of blood?'"
''Oh, yes.''
Then in a would-be impressive tone, somewhat muffled by the bandana, she hisses, '' Buckets of blood.''
"Enter," cries the leader in a subdued voice. She opens the door just wide enough for her "friend" to squeeze through. Then with locked arms and a terrible scowl, she commands in a voice that seems to come from somewhere in the region of her abdomen:
58 RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER
"What bringeth you hither, Injun Joe? Whether to deliver booty or to report on the enemyT Speak and say."
·"Oh, Pennie-I mean Captain Kidd-I come to report that Lu-Long-care-a-bean is waiting under the house and says for you to hurry up and bring a pick. He's got some swell things, Pennie."
'' It is well,'' assents Captain Kidd. Again they steal across the back yard and through the narrow opening which leads under the rambling old frame house. In: a shadowy corner the third desperado awaits them. They speak in hoarse whispers, and their brows are contracted into knotty frowns.
'' Buckets of blood,'' challenges Captain Kidd.
"Buckets of blood," returns Lu-Long-care-a-bean.
'' Show her quick, Dodo,'' Injun: Joe whispers excitedly.
Solemnly Lu-Long-care-a-bean produces from his bulky ,pockets a large brass belt buckle set with wonderful emeralds and rubies, not a great deal larger than peas. These having been properly "Oh'd" and "Ah'd" over, he adds a number of unset jewels equally beautiful. Injun Joe contributes a candlestick. Surely it is silver. Then Captain Kidd brings forth from under her sweater a hat pin. Its head, about the size of a dollar, is a sparkling mass of diamonds. And now comes her masterpiece.
With a wave of triumph she displays a glittering dagger and on it, yes there is no mistake, is the stain of blood!
They are breathless for a moment, and then-
" Why, Pennie, you know Daddy will be awfully mad at you for getting that red ink on his paper-cutter~"
This was a cruel blow and, for an instant, there s;parkles on Pennie's lashes a jewel brighter even than those OD! the hat pin.
"Oh, Ginger, how could you I" she wails. Then quickly composing herself.
'' Injun Joe, one more word and this dagger shall seek your heart.'' , ; ~ lf :!I
Carefully they packed the treasure in a chest which savored strongly of tobacco. Last of all a note, written in cypher, was tucked into it. Its pur,pose was to explain the origin of this treasure to future generations, who might by chance, stumble upon it. Then solemnly and slowly it was buried, at least three inches beneath the surface of the earth. It was fully two weeks before it was considered expedient by the outlaws to return certain articles of the treasure to the source from which they came.
And now, what say you of Penrodess? And what are little girls made of? Yes
Sugar and spice
And all things nice, But mostly spice.
(To Be Continued.)
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