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Page 92 text:
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Situated on the dull muddy river in Southeastern Nebraska, secure within a natural barricade, away from the cares of a busy world, is Peru. Miniature mountains, the Missouri Bluffs, rise throughout the town until, southward they pass the Normal Buildings, melt into Normal Avenue, and fade into rolling country land. Majestic and commanding stand these shelters of learning, above humble homes and apart from homely duties. The sun shines brighter here than elsewhere and collects all hazy vapors in a cloud across the Iowan border.
Any girl who has had the good fortune to spend a few months in the place most blessed by nature, can but recall with pleasure the day she entered this new-world.
Beginning days soon weld into weeks and before we realize it, one vacation is gone and the football season has made us loyal Peruvians. I am certain that many others, like myself, saw their first real football game, in Peru. To be sure, we have all seen games at our capital city or our main metropolis, but never could we feel a personal interest in them, for we did not know who was kicking the ball, or why someone blew a whistle, or when the game was over, or who had won. But did any person attend the Thanksgiving game of Nineteen Eleven without watching every detail? No, and not before did we ever gaze upon the gridiron with such eager eyes, march with such confident step, or yell with such animated vigor. Then, when victory was ours, as we knew it would be, the fitting climax of a noble work terminated in that history making bonfire, which illumed and cast a glowing light over the day’s deeds.
Yet, what did the girls do to further this victory? Courage in moments of despondency, admiration for deeds of valor, and sympathy in times of need; these are the essentials of success furnished by girls.
In Peru, where we believe in Woman’s Rights, girls are proving themselves worthy of all that the principle advocates. Who wins in whatever she undertakes? The Peru girl, every time.
The boys, too, are worthy of honorable mention for though far inferior in numbers, they are less inferior in ability. Peru boys are very useful in making scenery for class plays, winning athletic honors, and cutting up zoology specimens, which, I know, they would not enjoy doing were it not for the girls.
I here are many types of girls who make up our Normal School. Let us
Page 91 text:
There are songs of schools in the cultured East,
Where law and letters thrive.
Where the lads and lassies sedately walk,
And just as sedately drive.
There are songs of schools in the far, far West,
Where life rings free and true,
But above them all is our Normal School Mid the trees of old Peru.
Securely folded in Nature’s arms,
Peru, a landmark lies,
And those who’vc been swayed by her mystic charms Arc laboring ’neath many skies.
In the cast, the west, the north and the south To the spirit of justice and loyalty Imbibed in old Peru.
Oh: for a whiff of her balmy air,
For a glimpse of her stately trees,
For a stroll down her cool and shady lanes,
For the quick, bright flash of her birds so free As they flit ’neath her sky so blue Pouring forth bursts of melody In praise of old Peru.
Then let each and every Peruvian Who has breathed her air so blest,
Go out upon Life’s battlefield With hope, and strength, and zest.
And when weary of planning and toiling long And striving the dull days through.
Let us think of our school of the great midwest On the hill in old Peru.
MARY M’NAMARA, ’09.
Page 93 text:
consider a few of them. First, there is the serious minded, cranky old maid, who has sacrificed a grouchy husband, a two-room cottage, and a life of thankless drudgery for her pedagogical career, of teaching others to be wise, and follow in her footsteps. Beside her skips the feather brained, fuzzy-headed little flirt, smiling at all the boys and breaking their foolish young hearts, from which, however, they promptly recover.
Our long, wiry, muscular basket-ball girl heaps honor on our fame, while the • brainy girl stays at home, neglects all else for her work, and invites a nervous
We have the girl who wears broad, low-heeled shoes, green hat and red dress when her classmates arc the girls of skinny skirts, high-heeled yellow boots, and gaudy stocking caps.
But the girl who makes her school life a benefit to herself and a pleasure to associates, is the “Mixer," who docs not neglect her studies and yet finds time to know her roommate, attend literary society, try out on the debating team, and take music lessons.
About one hundred girls live in that plain, cold, brick structure west of the school buildings, which is officially known as “Mt. Vernon Hall,” though more commonly called “Our Home.” Outsiders arc inclined to look with critical eye at this home, but, almost any girl, who has been permitted to dwell beneath that maternal roof will tell you frankly that she prefers it to any other place.
The average dormitory gets a semi-weekly letter from a distant town and wears that significant circlet of gold, though there are some of sad countenance, long face and empty heart, and a very few of the fain, frivolous and gay.
An occasional young man shrinkingly finds his way up those broad steps, through the spacious ball, and to the door of a certain southeast room with a “Comp” for some fair one, who most likely, has to use his flowers and candy in bribing the girls from home to keep still.
Such are the many kinds of girls who come to Peru during the summer and winter. Though they find it a pretty place in our warm season, it is most beautiful now, when there is something sublime, majestic and awe-inspiring in its snow terraces; something enthusing in the frosty air; something invigoring in the uphill climb and something inspiring in every study.
We arc all proud of Peru, and the greatest thing that we can do is to make Peru proud of us; as athletes, as students, and as future members of the Alumni.
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