University of the South - Cap and Gown Yearbook (Sewanee, TN)

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16 ©he ( ap anh (SSonm. piazza. Here I sat down carefully on the edge of a chair. I had reached that point where the impossible seemed more than probable, and the usual had tapered off into the uncertain. I had never felt so bewildered since the time when I studied Hegel. Would Sewanee illustrate the great prop- osition that Being and Non-Being were one? For Sewanee seemed to be, yet where was it? I felt doubtful even about sitting down on the splint-bottomed chair that looked so innocent. I was not at all sure that it would not turn into something else — a bicycle, perhaps, or the chapel, or the man who preached. I could think of Sewanee as nothing but an Jt with a capital I. Or, perhaps Itness would be better. Presently the bell rang again ; then from every side I heard clanging, and dashing, and tinkling. ' A fire, or dinner, ' I said, in quotation marks. Certainly everything had waked up. People seemed suddenly to be moving in every direction ; even the cows stepping along move briskly. Young fellows bolted into the yard, sobered their gaits, and touched their hats as they passed me ; then my hostess appeared and asked me in to supper. I was glad, for, besides being very hungry, I saw the young women with prayer-books approaching. Everything in the dining-room was plain, but, as I remember it, the food was simple and good. My hostess introduced some of the young fel- lows who were nearest— Smith, and Brown, and Jones, of course, and Tompkins, and Simpson — nice fellows they seemed. The young ladies came in next, Miss Jemima and Miss Angelica. The atmosphere became blurred, and I bolted a whole glass of milk. I saw little Brown dig Smith in the ribs furtively, and had an unhappy consciousness that I was making things stiff, and while pondering some airy remark Miss Angelica said, in a slow little voice, How is the nine, Mr. Brown ? The breaking of a mill-dam was nothing to the rush of talk that fol- lowed. Splendid and magnificent were the mildest adjectives I heard, and Smith was positive that the Sewanees would be victorious the next day. You mean the base-ball nines? I said to little Brown in an undertone. Of course. Won ' t you be a Sewanee? At this request there fell an appalling silence, all waiting for my answer. Yes — yes, I gasped: 1 promised the hackman as I came up. What hackman? came in chorus. Jim. Good for Jim!

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®Jre Cup anii Q$otvtx. 15 They mistake me for some one. No ; we speak to everybody up here. Nobody ain ' t proud. Presently we passed another group. Here I saw base-ball bats, and ten- nis flannels, and much larger mustaches. You have base-ball ? You never saw any better, enthusiastically. We ' ve got two clubs — Harclees and Sewanees ; I am a Sewanee. You must be a Sewanee, Mister. We wear blue. Do you play? Gosh, no ! only the University boys ; but we bet on one or the other. At the house where we stopped a lady received me pleasantly. Yes, I could have a room, and terms were explained. I did not think to say that I might leave in twenty-four hours. If I remember, rny course of reason- ing was that as the next day was Saturday, I would endure until Monday. This mystery of a University consisting, as far as I could see, of one bicycle, two base-ball clubs, a number of mothers who kept boarding- houses, one chapel, and a man who preached ; and all tucked away in a thick wood on top a mountain, was a strange thing in the conventional, mechanical nineteenth century, and I desired to investigate. The room to which I was shown was a small corner room with two win- dows, a bare floor, and the simplest of simple furniture ; but it looked neat, and both windows looked out into trees. To say this, however, is to say very little in the way of description, for I cannot recall any window at Sewanee that does not look out on trees. Presently Dan brought my trunk, touched his hat, and said, Let me know when you want to go. I promised, and asked the name of my hackman. Just ask for Jim. Jim and Dan, I repeated. i will remember. Jim and Dan at least had adopted me. While I Avas getting rid of my travelling suit and the dust, I heard a soft-toned bell ring out above the trees, and from behind my curtain I watched two young ladies going with prayer-books in their hands. I began to tremble at the thought of boarding in the house with young women. I might as well have gone on to Chatauqua and the girls ' school ! What was this Sewanee ? Of course these young women were going to the chapel and the man who preached. Had I run aground on a co-educa- tional institution ? How awful ! After this I went down stairs timidly on my toes, and crept out on a

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®he ®ctp attb ©ottnt 17 That was nice of Jim, and Miss Angelica gave roe a kind, bewildering look. We must give Mr. Initoo a blue ribbon, said Miss Jemima. Miss Je- mima ' s hair was red. By this time I began to find some self-confidence, and was capable of collecting a few more items about Sewanee. I found that Mr. Mac, the umpire, was an assistant in the Grammar School. That the Grammar School was the place were kidlets were made into Juniors. That soon this department would be moved a mile or two away, as it annoyed the Juniors. An emancipated chicken does not like to see its old shell, I suggested mildly. Everybody laughed, and I pushed my inquiries further. I found that Juniors became Gownsmen, and that of this company Smithy Tomp- kins, and Smith were Gownsmen. After supper we returned to the piazza, and Smith brought his guitar. I moved my chair into the yard, for I thought I had never seen such stars -save in Egypt. A dreamy feeling came over me as the young people sang. My big, splint-bottomed arm-chair rocked itself slowly, and the smoke from my cigar floated away in effortless rings. I think I must have fallen asleep, for I was in the act of crowning Jack and the brakesman with golden crowns when the bell that had rung for supper sounded again. Nine o ' clock, I heard Smith remark, and all the young men save Tomp- kins, who sat with Miss Jemima at the far end of the piazza, went away. I went in to talk to Miss Angelica after this. I was. not afraid of her somehow, and I gained more information about Sewanee. The bell I had heard was the chapel bell. It rang all the hours for classes; it rang for fires, for all occasions of joy or sorrow. It rang at Jiine and ten o ' clock for the benefit of Juniors. And where is the University? I asked once more. You expected grand material things? she said; we have some per- manent buildings. I will show you them to-morrow if you like. But if you will stay here long enough you will be very much amused when you .hear people ask that question. Why? Because you will be a piece of it yourself, yet you will not like to say, ' I am the University. ' So? I said, and looked at Miss Angelica as hard as the half light would permit.