Belmont College - Milady in Brown Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

Page 23 text:

In closing I would add that notwithstanding the fact that Webster ' s Unabridged Dictionary is a good sized volume, we are hard up for words when we use one little monosyllable to represent such different emotions and experiences. We might have another fun spelled p-h-u-n, but it seems needless trouble to introduce it as pho- netic spelling, which is expected soon to arrive, would take it away from us. It has suggested itself to me that it might be a good idea to reverse the word for some of the more divergent and incongruous notions, but that would make nuf, and it would never do. For as Aunt Vinie would have expressed it: Dese chilluns shore never do hab nuf fun.

Page 22 text:

to go to bed sham-wise — that means with no intention of staying there; to turn out the light; to be very care- ful about arousing the suspicions of your room-mate, if you have the delectable fun (?) of rooming with a stem- winder; to know in vour heart of hearts she knows and wants to go, but cannot risk her reputation by going and that she would like to tell for revenge but dare not ; to creep out after awhile and be met as you emerge from the door by a teacher! To drop your load inside your door and tip down the hall to the cooler; to make three or four abortive attempts ; to run the gauntlet of listening ears at last and scurry down the hall dragging the bag ; making as little noise as possible with it ; and finally to find the plotters there ready to make the ascent. You all get on and pull and pull till your hands are blistered, and by and by you reach the attic floor and dis- embark. My, but it is dark and cold and cavernous! The dust rises to meet you. The mice scamper off. The spiders wake up and swing back nearer the nucleus of their webs. You feel in the bag and find a shoe box full of candles, but in your nervous haste you drop the only box of matches. You grope for them and get your finger tips full of splinters. What next? How will you get back down in the dark? To feast in this Egyptian blackness is impossible. Why did girls not use matches for makeshifts like boys — in the place of buttons or instead of hairpins? It seemed no girl ought ever to be found without a match somewhere about her. Sud- denly the street car came by on its last round. The searchlight flashes for one lucky moment through the ven- tilator and a pair of sharp eyes falls on the matchbox, worth more to you that moment than all your father ' s bank-account. One by one the little candles flare up, each one making about itself a small sickly yellow glow which somewhat scatters the gloom and enables us to open the cans and bottles and find our mouths. Without much ado we begin a graceless meal. How good the olives and turkey would be if there was only half a chance to taste them! But we must hum ' . And yet no one is waiting. Why hurry? We watch the elevator. They are treacherous things. It might go leave us or fly up to the ceiling, followed by another to fetch us to faculty ! We talk in whispers. We could not crack a joke; it might be heard below. We make progress, however, and before long the cans and bottles are all empty. We have the contents in lumps in our several throats. We creep over to a dark corner and deposit the bottles and cans, to be found next summer when the attic is dusted, and start down. Our hands are very sore from pulling up, but we hold the ropes very hard and see-saw up and down stopping at the second story, the third story and all in between stories, anywhere except at the door to which we had the key. At length we succeeded in stopping one foot below the first floor and scrambled up and out. Our poor hands are aching, we are chilled to the bone and trembling with excitement. We go to bed sure enough this time, too utterly done for to set its full valuation on our escapade. But when a few days have come and gone we begin to remember the inexpressible fun of a midnight feast. This is surely examples enough of our fun to show our readers how various is its character and how all- pervading is its presence. A thing which is such a large ingredient in our college life calls for this much of phil- osophizing. I think after studying the subject closely I learn several things. One is the unconquerable endur- ance of girls in quest of fun. Another is proof positive that the way things look depends on whose spectacles you wear. Looked at differently, much that we call fun would be hardship.

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To My Fan BERTHA CLARK. Though a little fan art thou, Yet within thy folds lie hidden Beautiful designs unknown now Save to those whom to look I ' ve bidden. Tis with my heart the same. Spangles fair thy folds adorn. Some were put there long ago, Some have only come this mora; Loose or secure all are bound just so. ' Tis with my heart the same. The more the spangles, harder thy duty. Yet thou dost long and wish for more; Because they add to thy own beauty And help in all that thou dost adore. ' Tis with my heart the same.