Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

 - Class of 1892

Page 12 of 108


Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA) online yearbook collection, 1892 Edition, Page 12 of 108
Page 12 of 108

Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA) online yearbook collection, 1892 Edition, Page 11
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Page 12 text:

6 The Augusta Seminary Annual. rest go by the window at the end of the room, some going up the stairs to the music rooms, others — there is a rush in the hall, and in the} ' come. The first comer goes quickly to the first book-case, draws out a volume of Carlyle, and walking over to the table, takes out her note-book and sets to work; her friend enters in an easy, graceful manner, smiles at her own face in the long mirror, as she stops a moment to arrange her bangs, and leisurely saunters over to the paper file, and opens the morning paper. Soon the little girl over in the corner, who has a volume of the Cen- tury Dictionary spread out before her on the floor, is sighing over her Latin derivitives; while on the other side of the room one ot the History girls is beseeching the Librarian to tell her where to find something about Chinese Gordon. When the ten bell rings two members of the Literature class rush in, and fl) ' to the first book case, but there is a look of dismay when the desired Carlyle is missing, and is found in the hands of the first comer. One, we ' ll call her A, finds a second copy behind the row of books, where it has been hidden for safe keeping; B, not so fortunate, amuses herself by a.sking the busy girls how much of the " Essaj ' on Burns " they have read, as if it does an good to know that one has read only down to the " sermon on the duty of staying at home; " and B goes on tormenting and interfering. " Oh my! how full you are making your notes ! " " I haven ' t time to keep mine in ink, and they won ' t be half so nice as j ' ours, " she says impatiently. " Oh, do go to work and stop talking! " exclaims A; and so finding herself the only idle one. B, settles down to learn an anecdote to tell at French conversation; everything is quiet, and for fifteen minutes even the ticking clock and the sound of the fast flying pens seem loud. I have become very much absorbed in ni} ' reading, but a sudden hum of voices distracts me, and I look up to find the Librarian gone, and hear, " Oh ! do you know we are going to have ice-cream for dinner to-day ? " " Why of course the snow ' s on the ground. " " B}- the way, do you think Miss Baldwin ' ill let us go sleigh-riding to-morrow? ' ' " Hope so, for there is no soiree to-morrow night, and none of us will be kept at home on ac count of rehearsesals. " " I

Page 11 text:

The Aui Hsta Seminary Annual. 5 A Mornin n in the Library. The first heavy snow fall ot last winter was the import- ant event of the season to us Georgia girls; but with it came a sprained ankle for me, the result of a chase down " covered way " with Julia just behind me, her hands full of snow. I spent two wear} ' weeks on the lounge in the lower room at the Infirmary where I learned many lessons not out of books, lessons of patience, not only from my own siiffer- ings, but more than all, from her who gives us an example of all that is lovely and self-sacrificing, from our nurse, our friend. When I could first walk a little, I was allowed to spend my mornings in the Library ' . There I continued the studies of human nature begun on the sofa, as I had watch- ed Dr. Va5 ' t go in and out two or three times a day, or a half a dozen semi-invalids with their monotony of com- plaints, and unwearying, kind Alice and Luc} ' . One morning I entered just as the girls were going to Chapel, and finding no one in the room, wandered about for a while in search of something to read. I looked through the first case where I knew I should find Lowell, Addison, Irving, Macaulay, Carlyle, Mrs. Oliphant, and the other authors, dear to us of the Literature class; passed with a smile the locked case containing the books forbidden us during school hours, the Waverleys, and the works of Dick- ens, Thackera} ' , Hawthorne, George Eliot, and other novel- ists; and gained at last the " poet ' s corner, " where I was satisfied to stop for a while. Just as the last strains of " Rock of Ages " were wafted down to me firom Chapel, I selected a copy of Wordsworth, and curled m ' self up in the big arm chair, thinking to my- self, " Conceal yoursel ' as weel ' s ye can Frae critical dissection. But keek through every other man We sharpened, sly inspection. " A heavy tramp was heard, I knew that the girls were coming down, and I should soon have company. Nearer they came, and then I heard the noisy troop divide, and some go up " covered- waj ' " to recitations, while the

Page 13 text:

The Aiti usta Seminary Annual. 7 thoiij;ht Mrs. Darrow was going to have hcr ' s then, " etc. There seems no end to the questions. " Did you know to- day was composition reading? " " Oh, is it? Tlien we won ' t have news class, and I have lots of news to tell. " In the midst of the chattering a step is heard just outside the door, and everything instantly becomes quiet. Oh ! it is only one of the girls, who, while working at her short-hand and type writing was attracted by the noise; and she has a startling piece of news for us. Miss Baldwin has said that the " Lotus Glee Club " will be in Staunton Tuesday night, and we can go. " What shall I wear ? " was uttered as if from one voice, by every one in the room. A question as puzzling as the same last week about the " Tacky ball. " In the midst of these conferences we are startled by Mr. King ' s coming in to ask one of the girls to sign a check, and before we get noisy again the Librarian returns. I do not now care to go back to my reading, and so begin to ask questions about the queer looking — photograph, shall I call it ? — that hangs under the large painting of Stone- wall Jackson. Others become interested in the discussion, and it is found to be a photograph of the original copy of Magna Charter, and the ever new problem, " Is it French ? " " Is it Latin ? " " Is it English or Chinese? " again comes up, and each girl finds a word to prove the truth of her solution. The little bell rings now, and we are compelled to be quiet. However, we are hardh ' quiet, when the music from a minstrel band calls us all to the front window. Just as the last wagon disappears, the dinner bell sounds. Some of us loiter for a while, pleasantly chatting as we put our books in the right cases, while others hurry out to see who got express packages; but the thought of ice- cream for dinner quickens every step, the key of the libra- ry is turned, hidden under the organ cover in the hall, and we all go to the dining-room. Janie Brawner.

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