St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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Horrors! Had my fears made me a subject of hallucinations? Could it be that my mind was no longer able to Eunction correctly? If I remem- bered rightly, the hands of the cluck were known to move not backward. hut forward! And yet, in this land of new experience they apparently moved backward. But nonsense, this could not be! 1 shuddered and roused myself a little from this lethargy of fear. My story was forgotten. I could do nothing but gaze steadfastly at the clock. The fiendish little instrument, though it continued to tick, now showed no perceptible motion of its hands. I could not tcdl what was wrong but, nevertheless. I sat very still hoping that this abnormal state would soon pass. My eyes burned painfull}- during the strained intervals between blinks. I kept them riveted on the clock. Finally, after what seemed hours, I heard the front door being noisily opened. The folks were returning from their night of pleasure. How quickly they broke my silly spell. Everything seemed quite friendly and natural again. The far corners of the room no longer suggested eerie sounds but rather reverberated with laughter and noise. I was greeted with surprise. (But why should they not express surprise at seeing me alive and well after what had befallen me in those few hours?) 1 ventured a timid remark about the clock. It was promptly taken down from the shelf and examined. As is usually the case with such phenomena. the explanation of this incident was almost shamefully simple. The minute hand of the clock had become loosened from its pivot and, instead of moving ahead, it slipped gradually backward until it reached the lowest point on the face, namely, the half-past mark. Consequently, though the small hand went ahead a trifle, the large one remained at this lowest point, motionless. EILEEN McLOUGHLIX. ' 27. M

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The Witching Hour IT all came about in my endeavor to do some supplementary English work. At eleven o ' clock one evening I began dutifully to read a volume of Poe ' s short stories. Quite unconscious of the terrors it contained, I opened the tiny hook and started cheerfully upon the Gold-Bug. This story was not horrible in the extreme, but 1 thought it unpleasant enough and made a mental Deo Gratias for my sister ' s companionable presence in the room. How fortunate for me that I had insisted upon not being left alone in the house that night. Ligeia came next. I am not superstitious, but rather easily impressed, and this story made its impression (quite thoroughly) upon me. It intensi- fied the creepiness brought on by the Gold-Bug. ] was experiencing queer little nervous jerks, and when my sister suddenly rose to announce her intention of retiring, I fairly jumped. This was hardly a strange reaction, since I had just reached the point in the story where Lady Ligeia slowly rose and sat erect on her funeral couch, t requested my sister to stav a little longer, but to no avail. Therefore, too proud to confess my fears. 1 bade her a brave good-night; then alone perused to the end the strange story of the uncanny Ligeia. By this time I was well on toward a state of mental paralysis. The noises in the bedroom upstairs had ceased and a steady tick-tock from the shelf nearby was the only other noise in the room, except, of course, the many supplied by my own imagination. 1 began my next story. It was the Fall of the House of Usher. I read straight through to its terrible end. How depressing this tale seemed to me — and how very real. ' Sickly, old. spectre-like Usher himself might have been sitting on the chair my sister had just vacated, or worse still, on the one directly behind me; I did not know; 1 dared not look: vet I fancied I could hear him breathing. My thoughts scampered wildly about my mind. My heart pounded. I was too afraid almost to blink an eye, lest in that brief instant somebody, or something, might slip into the room unnoticed. Hardly conscious now of what I was doing, I forged ahead into another of these terrors — The Pit and the Pendulum. It was a tale of the Inquisition, teeming with atmosphere of the chilling sort. The black dungeon, the condemned man. the bottomless pit of a thousand rats and dank odors — all these oppressed me so that I despaired of ever again reach- ing the comfortable world in which I had spent so many happy years. Rut somehow, when the captive noticed the pendulum hanging far above his head, I was remotely reminded of the timepiece in the room. This (if memory served me right) was accustomed to tell the correct hour. I glanced up timidly at the familiar old clock and noted that it was fifteen minutes to one. I went on with my story. The huge pendulum in the tale began to swing to and fro and to descend proportionately. I began sub- consciously to associate the clock-ticks with my story. Each one served to accentuate the ominous and relentless descent of the pendulum. I looked again at the clock and. could it be true, it was now only twenty minutes to one. But perhaps I had not remembered the hour correctly. I continued reading. Down, down came the pendulum. Soon it would swing low enough to slash the serge above the captive ' s heart — and on the next stroke to graze the flesh beneath! The helpless man grew delirious at the thought of his impending fate. I read on for two more pages and still the pendulum had not reached its mark. I looked again at the clock. It was now only twelve-thirty! 4 t 10};

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Evolution of the Cap and Qown WITH noticeable lack of logic, educators have perennially decried the fact that the Catholic Church is opposed to learning. In truly para- doxical fashion, actions betray, or at least play havoc with, con- victions. If Mother Church has stilled the glowing spark of education, why cherish memories, nay even monuments, of her lack of wisdom? Why adopt, unfalteringly, those things which serve to disprove the thesis defended? If the progress of learning owes its uninterrupted course to other agents than Religion, why not adopt some of the relics of these agents? Why wear caps, gowns and hoods? They savor of religion; they were borrowed from ecclesiastical dress of medieval times. They stand as monumental proofs of the innocence of the Roman Church in regard to educational sterility. Caps, gowns and hoods — now so familiar as to be almost commonplace, were not always so. The first traces of education in class fashion, date back to the Cathedral or Monastic schools of the seventh century. These schools, saviors of learning (for barbarianism seemed destined to wipe it out), were conducted by the only learned men of the time, the clergy. Though these Cathedral schools were but harbingers of medieval universities (which were founded to meet the increased demand for higher education) they gave to the universities a splendid model of organization. The practice of granting academic degrees was begun by the Univer- sities of Paris and Bologna. The term bachelor, adopted in the thirteenth century, signified that a student had passed certain tests. The master degree signified only the license to teach. The emancipation from bachelor- hood, the time when a student was duly licensed to teach, was signified by a ceremony in which the instructor placed a birettum or cap on the head of the future master. It is said that the present day custom of conferring a hood for a degree had its origin in this practice. The history of the term doctor is uncertain. In the twelfth century the University of Bologna granted the degree of Doctor of Law. and at the same time the University of Paris conferred the degree of Doctor of Divinity. It was only natural (and this is the unqualified statement of both non- Catholics and Catholics) that the universities should preserve, as academic dress, an adaptation of the monastic habit — the wide robe, with its cowl or hood. The privilege of wearing such gowns as a mark of profound learning, limited at first to Doctors of Divinity, was later extended to students. Hoods, attached to the gowns, did not signify rank in learning. Not until the fifteenth century was an important step taken along this line. A disinction was made between lower and higher ranks. Hoods were separ- ated from the gowns and a border of color was added. A difference in length of gowns was also noted — the Master ' s gown being longer than the bachelor ' s. Doctorate, the highest rank, was signified by a small round cap with pointed front, an outgrowth or rather a replica of the ecclesias- tical cap worn over the tonsure. Since it is to England, Germany, and America that we owe most of our knowledge of the evolution of present-day academic dress, we shall consider the history and present status of the academic costume in these countries only. The best known universities of the British Isles have never adopted a uniform system of academic dress. Cambridge has clung to the seventh century type of dress even to the present day, with undergraduates ' costumes differinc; but slightly from Masters ' and Doctors ' costumes. The -4 12 )§►••-