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

Page 14 text:

Ctoo Gentlemen of Petona What is there in the world like seeing one ' s first college play? Nothing. It is an unique experience. The first we beheld, as a class, in Bryn Mawr, was 1908 ' s Sophomore Play, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and it burst upon our wondering Freshman sight as a Vision of Perfection. That it was Shakespeare was impres- sive enough in itself ; add further that it was romance and that the hero and heroine were Emily Fox and Myra Elliott, and the spell is cast. It was light and color to our eyes — from Lucetta ' s yellow silk house gown to the rich browns and russets of Julia ' s forest disguise; from Silvia ' s pansy-colored velvets and satins to Valentine ' s lilac-and-yellow brocade. It was music to our ears — from the soft notes of the Silvia serenade to the laughter of Launce and Speed. The scenery was wonderful, the staging was flawless, the rendering of the lines was sublime. Miss Thomas informed us later in chapel that in this play Shakespeare was not at his best. Well, if so, 1908 more than made up his deficiencies. Let others criticise. To us it re- mains inviolable, beyond the touch of earthly years. Pleasaunce Baker.

Page 13 text:

Next year we were right on the spot, tra la, With many a gobble-un hoot We made the environment hot, tra la, And mewed, till we mewed ourselves mute. Explained, as a class, what was what, tra la, Retailed the advice we had got, tra la, And whether they liked it or not, tra la, Threw in some suggestions to boot. Then soon with a jubilant yowl, tra la, We encouraged the Babes on their way, And the Critics remarked with a scowl, tra la, Every Junior (and dog) has his day. And I heard the collegiate owl, tra la, (A most economical fowl), tra la, Say They ' re squandering many a joule, tra la, If I know anything about they. But with our advance in years, tra la, We have had to grow tactful and tame, And describe by mere ladylike cheers, tra la, Our love of this boisterous game. As we cheer for the gay little Dears, tra la, In voices bedewed with tears, tra la, Incredible though it appears, tra la, We are jealous, but are we to blame? Dorothy Child.

Page 15 text:

Banner tg )t When Banner Night arrived we knew only vaguely what to expect, except that we were to receive our proud banner, glowing already with the hereditary fame of the Red. But 1907, with its tutelary wisdom, saw fit to enhance the occasion with the jolliest of shows. When first we burst into the gym (for in those good old days there were no gradual and lingering arrivals; enthusiasm banked us deep against the back door, half an hour early), when first we streamed in, we found our- selves in the midst of a Country Fair that was simply buzzing with rural and fakir life. There were jugglers and fortune-tellers, freaks and celebrities of all kinds — even including Mr. and Mrs. Roosevelt. There were booths for cider and apples, peanuts and doughnuts ; racimose clusters of balloons ; grab-bags with clever pres- ents and cleverest rhymes — all the delights peculiar to a country fair, and many more peculiar to 1907. Then suddenly we found ourselves seated in orderly rows — and the fair had melted like magic into a play. The Princess was our first experience of an orig- inal show, and of 1907 ' s powers of burlesque. There is nothing like burlesque when it is produced by Tink ' s pen and interpreted by Eunice ' s acting. In our parox- ysms of merriment and applause, we forgot everything, even to hold onto our prizes, and silently one by one, in the distant gymnasium rafters, blossomed our bright balloons, the fragments of the Juniors. After the curtains had closed on the sealed fate of the Princess, there came an expectant silence, and when they parted again it was to disclose to our eyes for the first time our great Red Banner, — the banner which we ' ve watched fondly ever since and are watching still, as it shrinks and fades, growing more enhanced with romance year by year. Pleasaunce Baker.