Bryn Mawr College - Bryn Mawr Yearbook (Bryn Mawr, PA)

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2D ;arcj of tl)e 5mxhs Early on the evening of the 30th of October, 1907, breathless and for the most part dinnerless, gathered unceremoniously at the back door of the gym. It was a great occasion — our first college theatrical; and we made the most of it in enthusiasm. In our youth and unsophistication we felt it no hardship to be jammed into the narrow stairway till it seemed as though the railing must give way. Indeed, there was pure contentment in our voices as, each girl in her favorite key, we went over and over our repertoire, which at that time con- sisted mainly of 1907 march along. And our delight only increased thoughout the play itself, from the moment when the curtain first rose on the Garden of the Townshend House, till it fell on The Same, five weeks later. Unfamiliar as we were with the actors, the gaily uniformed officers and the two pretty heroines gave an impression of reality which since then we have seldom felt in college theatricals. The play was unambitious, being light and not deeply emotional. But it carried us in imagination to those daring stirring days of the Revolution, with their gallant men and charming, high-spirited women. The vivid scenes with their song and jest and laughter, remained in our minds and on our tongues long after we had left the gym and scattered over the dark campus. Eleanor Ecob. Hantern il5tgl)t In the general confusion of recollection which we have for the first semester of Fresh- man year, in the confused agony of tea after tea and flunked quiz after flunked quiz, our Lantern Night makes a few hours of collected realization in the minds of the Class of Nine- teen Hundred and Seven, and even in the Clark-free peace of Senior year we turn back to the blessed oasis of Lantern Night. We had hoped for much from college, and we had gotten in those two months a blur of uncomprehended note books and misunderstood lectures. There was a considerable portion of the desert to be crossed yet before we reached an understanding of the place and of ourselves — but that night we were torn out of our commonplace selves and saw our aims and our surroundings in a light of transfiguration. We were not unprepared for the mysteries. Weeks before we had been measured for our caps and gowns in Denbigh Parlor — an event that to my mind is warm and golden with the afternoon sun on the carpet. That very afternoon we had carried home, amid the sym- pathetic grins of the college at large and of 1905 in particular, the little brown packages

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Ciie 2Dean ' fl? iaeception It was with fast beating hearts, that we donned our best frocks, pinned on our most ornate bonnets, and took our way to the Deanery. Of course we had met Miss Thomas before, but in an unsatisfactory interview, where we lurked in the shadow of a parent, while a howling mob of mothers stormed the door. Now we were to go on our own responsibility, take tea with Miss Thomas and tell her our views on college Hfe. Those of us who had acquired Junior friends so early in the game, were buttoned and pinned by them and sent forth with their maternal blessing, and many directions as to how we were to greet the Dean. We gathered round the Deanery door in trembling groups, no one being bold enough to be the first to venture in, we rehearsed the remarks that we had prepared, our best wit for Miss Thomas, our second best for Miss Gwinn, shut our eyes and made the plunge. I believe we sat down at once and heard Miss Thomas ' remarks about college tradition. For the first time we heard the magic tale of the single case of two roommates, no engage- ments with the faculty, etc., stories that were to be such good friends to us in after Hfe. In spite of the thunderbolt Miss Thomas launched the next minute, in her talk on tradition she unwittingly laid the cornerstone of our future dramatic literature. Then, sandwiched in between the interesting origin of the daily bath habit and the statistics on Harvard graduates, came the mild statement as to the advisability of omitting the Freshman Play this year. In a very few words she convinced us of the thorough wisdom of this plan, we began to behevethe Play was a traditional myth, that its only appear- ance during the year was at this function, when wise Freshmen, such as we were, rejected it in scorn. Academicity for us, down with the drama! In this frame of mind we shook hands with Miss Thomas, swallowed our chocolate and ice cream and conversed in subdued whispers about the newly-learned traditions. A few of us who had heard of former college plays had a vague feeling that all was not well, but we were resolved to make a firm stand for the purely academic life, and, strong in this purpose, we bade Miss 1 homas good-bye. With most of us, the modest ambition of reforming the college vanished on the Deanery steps, a few clung to the thought until they were almost past Taylor, but when we reached our respective halls, with one accord we fell weeping into the arms of 1905, to sob out our •childish woes upon their sympathizing shoulders. Is it heresy to say that 1905 hailed this opportunity for scrap with something akin to joy ? No, it was their love and affection for 1907 that made them plunge into the matter heart and soul. Of the struggle that went on among the higher powers we knew little, we were merely informed of the happy result when thesystemof ten hours of rehearsal and something like Keith ' s became established as a new tradition. Cornelia Lynde Meigs.

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which contained the possibiHties of our glory; we had practised a lantern song for days, and eagerly put a few finishing touches on a squeaky class-song. We knew that a song which we must not hear was being practiced by 1906 at the gymnasium. But even in our expectant wonder, Lantern Night was only one of the functions to which we went with dutiful eager- ness and the secure belief that through many experiences we would emerge triumphantly as upper-classmen. Our minds — some of our minds — were quite as full of our first hockey games and of our first English quiz— in fact the person in front of me in the line counted out Grimm ' s Law on her fingers all the way up the campus. We were cold on the athletic field — there was a damp freshness of country night in the air as Augur marshaled us — very proud in our white frocks and undefiled, untorn caps and gowns. We shivered loudly, trying with young bravado to believe that it was the cold that made our teeth chatter, and every few minutes imploringly asking o ur next neighbors whether our tassel was on the right side. And then, Augur told us not to blow out our lanterns; reminding us that the one whose lantern stayed Ht the longest was destined to be dean — some day — many, many days oflF — I am afraid. Once more we wailed out: You give us these lanterns, to lighten our way, and with a recognition that college Hfe was opening for the Class of Nineteen-Seven, we began to climb up the long stairs from the athletic field. It was wonderful on the dark upper campus where we seemed to be alone — filing along to where the thing that was to come waited for us. We stopped trying to imagine that it was the cold that sent shivers up and down our back-bones. The girl who had been mumbUng Grimm ' s Law in front of me, suddenly kept quiet in the midst of her vocalized mutes, and even the most practical of us for a few minutes remembered her Tennyson and bent her head and quieted her thoughts in preparation for the new knighthood that was to come. It came soon enough. Even Pallas Athena seemed sacrilegious after the holy quiet of the past moments, and our green lanterns, shimmering through the darkness, looked garish. Before we knew, it was all over and the world was back again. Holding our lanterns high we sang You give us these lanterns and then turned hand in hand, toward Radnor to claim again the halls with our song — in the presence of beaming and half-undressed Seniors and graduate students. At last, tired and almost quiet, under Pembroke Arch — the place where things begin and end — we listened while the upper-classmen sang. Some of us remember — perhaps — the queer little stop 1904 gave after 1900 ' s song, and some of our Freshmen hearts feeling sorry for the Seniors who had to leave so soon, beat a little harder over Whatever the years may bring us, Drink deep once again to Bryn Mawr. That was the end for that night. There were proud moments to come, Nineteen-five, we remember, cheered Amo, amas as we marched into chapel. We sang Ancient of Days