Bryn Mawr College - Bryn Mawr Yearbook (Bryn Mawr, PA)

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for a girl not writing an article; she may not write it because she is busy, or because she has forgotten, or because she is too far away, or for a thousand thousand reasons, but the best of all reasons for a girl not writing an article is just because she doesn ' t — without rhyme or reason. There is always something so sad about this that it deprives the most eager of eager editors of all of her weapons. Here Conscientious Contributer, who has written one article, but is not notably of the faithful few, writes: There is no use. I thought that by now I might oblige you with a contribution, but I can ' t. Everytime I look at the sea it reminds me of the blue waters of the swimming pool, when I look at the rocks I am reminded of Taylor Hall, and when I notice the children — happy scientifically brought up children — I see the future of 1912, but still composition lags and the muse refuses to burn and inspiration to prompt. I would rather refuse bread to a starving kitten than more words to an eager editor, but what can I do? I ' ve tried all the approved methods. I ' ve sat hours with pencil poised ready to catch the young idea as it shot. I have read pages of Henry James and Matthew to improve my style, but still I fall back on the golden silence. Dear Maysie I ain ' t possible! Now there is one of our best students and keenest wits, as one can see from the letter, hopelessly lost for Class Book. Even a telegram, which does amazing things with delinquents like Southwick and Pinney has no effect on her. Some of the letters are of a still sadder tone. One classmate who was with us two years and is noted for intellect and wit complains vaguely of her state of mind — an unanswerable plea: I am so sorry, she writes, but I simply cannot do it. It isn ' t that I haven ' t time but that I cannot write. Believe it or not, but it is true. If I wrote anything you would simply have the pain of refusing it after all this talk. Sometimes I can write presentable English but I couldn ' t do even that now. Please, please, forgive me and believe that my state of mind is simply incomprehensible to your fertile intellect. I can ' t even compos e a letter in my present state of mind. We had scarcely recovered from our grief on her account before we were assailed by this even sadder note: I have tried and tried— made myself, in fact the whole family, very unhappy. But Maysie dear, I cannot write. I bring Fanny to witness that I burned the midnight candle—

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preface IT is with great pleasure that we, the editors, present to the class this revised and expurgated edition of our Book. Our hope is that everyone will like it, simply because it is so like 1912. It has been another great opportunity to be natural, like Freshman Show and the circus and the well-trained-mob of he-rascals and she-rascals. And 1912, having had much practise, has no difficulty in throwing off the superficial cold veneer of formality and appearing in her charming star r61e of herself as she really is. So it may or may not be a surprise to those who may read this book, because they were with us though not of us in college, to see us once more as we see ourselves. We hope our naturalness, drawing attention away from our conceit, may induce our former playmates to shed an affectionate tear over our nameplates while they try to remember to whom they belong. I said we were natural here, yes, but there are articles, reserved for a special supplement and allowed only a private and limited circulation, in comparison with which these before you are a triumph of acting. Those suppressed effusions really would interest all our readers and we regret deeply that they are kept from them by the old-time habit of conservatism, too deeply rooted now to be shaken off, in spite of our interest in progressive measures shown in our political campaign. By the way, I am feeling a vast respect for that little incident in our career. It was positively uncanny the way we responded as a man to the proper impulses — even when being told to. Our one great failing was that we were not childish enough to think of balloons. As to the articles, — ask Biffie about Fellowship dinner and Polly about the really interesting side of college life. There were some very exciting little secrets that we didn ' t know before. For gossip and a few details gleaned from the personal experi- ence of an enthusiastic and insatiable student, see a certain article on Nice Feelings by Louise. Then there are others, all of which make up the Class Book as it might have been. Oh! but there was another possibility, another field that we missed, and again just because we were natural. For, in the words of our favorite author, there are many reasons

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all to no purpose. But I may say that at last our noble secretary rose to fulfil her mission and my highest hopes. I trust this will suffice to demonstrate my good intentions and the class ' s good intentions and explain any peculiarity or omissions that the cold unfeeling eye may find in this, the classic of really the very nicest class we know of. M. A. M.