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

Page 22 text:

3Untern il?tgl)t THE first few weeks of college life had gone by in a whirligig of noise and glare, varied externally by class meetings, hockey games, physical appointments, medical appoint- ments, hazing, song rehearsals, lectures receptions, plays, English Reader interviews, upperclassmen teas, and writing home for money; internally by quick alternations of dizzy rapture and horrible depression; and unified throughout its diverse phases by a sub- stratum of intense physical fatigue. Shades of the past, how tired we were in those early Freshman days ! Even now I can rarely pass through Pembroke Arch, where we spent the tag-ends of so many strenuous, whirling days, without some shadow of the old weariness striking across my spirit. Small wonder that we looked forward to Lantern Night with apathy, and anticipated — so far as we had time to anticipate anything — a repetition of Rush Night, with the fancy costumes slightly varied. It is in this spirit indeed that we make ready for the evening ' s events. Clad in our shiny, brand new gowns and the wonderful caps, which we have carefully pinned on hind part before, we dash over to Pembroke Arch to break into the Sophomore line. Where- upon we are flung out as unceremoniously and indignantly as if this were not an occasion of mutual love and peace, and, burning with mortification, we dash on again across the dark campus, locate our own forces, and hitch on to the tail end of the procession, which has already begun its slow march toward the library. And as the long fine of Freshmen, subdued for the moment, files slowly through the narrow door into the cloister, something of the real dignity of these grave arches and stately towers, cutting the starlit sky, steals ever so softly into our consciousness. We have seen them before, but now in the sympathetic solitude of the silent assembled class, with the dark, soft night about us, and in our ears the plash of the fountain, which melts into, rather than breaks, the silence, we feel them for the first time. The noise and hurry of the feverish weeks just past seem, on a sudden, very far away. So when we hear the first faint notes of the Pallas Athene, they do not seem to us new or strange, but rather our own thoughts, born of the place and the hour, singing themselves into music. Nearer and nearer the clear strains come, swelling in silvery cadences out of the darkness behind us, and beneath the dark stone arches at each side advance in slow procession two lines of black-robed figures, each bearing a lighted lantern, and swing- ing it to and fro in the rhythm of the song. The vaulted cloister overflows with soft blue radiance. The lines have turned now, have joined together on the opposite side of the 10

Page 21 text:

On the ascent to the lower athletic field, we formed into a compact line. One by one my friends were torn away, and I was gently but firmly shoved into the middle of the line by Marjorie Young and told to hang as if my life depended on it to two strangers — Rosalind Romeyn and Annie Jones. Rush night tradition is to yell as loud as possible, and the rest is a blurred mass of shrieking, straining and shoving — sometimes in the light, sometimes in the dark, always unpleasant. My brain remembers dimly a girl behind, who repeated at regular intervals, But we ' ll keep on yay ' ling. The arch singing ended the din and discord and was by far the best of rush night, although I was too breathless and exhausted to do more than be thankful that we could be still. Helene Pelleteee. %ty £ opt)omore j lap anfc 2 ance HOW well we remember the first of those priceless plays of our gay young daysl Till then college had been a rather discouraging round of Freshman blunders and flunked quizzes, but that night it took on an entirely new aspect. The fights, the bustle, the gaiety prevalent everywhere carried us into quite another world — a world of dreams and ideals. And the play satisfied them all. We felt quite sure that, if we should meet a man like May Egan in everyday life, our fate would be sealed. And how we all envied Carlie Minor! As for Pleasaunce Baker and Mary Nearing, we had never seen such actrices in our lives. They were absolutely without flaw. We wept over the miserable little children who had had a crust of bread yesterday ; we wept over the sad wife ' s appeal to Divine Providence, and over Triplet ' s cynical The street is very narrow, and the opposite houses very high ; we wept again over Peg Woffington ' s unparalleled generosity and pitiful renunciation, and then we felt refreshed and quite ready to felicitate the reunited lovers in the most satisfactory denouement. And then the dance, following so close upon that wonderful play, was almost too good to be true. We saw our favourites at close range, and who shall say that they lost lustre in their descent? That night, too, marked the beginning of many friendships with the other members of 1909. Masques and Faces was the first of many good times that we have had together. We hope that we have not seen the last of them, and that 1909 and 1910 will always be in the future, as they have been in the past, the best of friends. Dobothy Nearing. 15

Page 23 text:

quadrangle, and are moving toward us; in some magic way they have unfurled themselves in a great semi-circle before us — a semi-circle of flashing blue light; the last Akoue has swelled from some depth of melody and melted into silver clearness, and our lanterns are in our hands. No longer strangers, newcomers, intruders, but acknowledged children of Bryn Mawr, and no longer an accidental and heterogeneous collection of units, but the Class of 1910, with our scholars ' gowns upon our backs and our symbolical lanterns in our hands, we march forth to our inheritance. Katharine Liddell. Cfte amasona BECAUSE I begin with the thing I remember best about Banner Night, pray don ' t think me flippant. But it made such an impression on me, and raised me to that desirable position, the center of an admiring throng of envious class-mates, that my innocent pride, which cannot be suppressed even after three years, must be pardoned. Emily Fox wore my white duck trousers! You may smile at my childish pride, but if you think back to the commotion that caused in your own jealous beings, you may understand my eagerness to recall that thrilling event. And so, with a really personal interest in the play, far exceeding that another member of the class might have, I set out. Thrills began the moment the doors were opened, for it isn ' t every day we can be led to our seats by imposing Amazons (I may say, the point of their costumes didn ' t penetrate until many weeks later). And then the play began— we marvelled at the whole thing, and were suffused with laughter, even when Emily Fox, trousers and all, fell off the stage. Again my pride soared, for were not my trousers to break her fall. It seems like a long step from Pinero to the most serious of Freshmen events, the presenting of the banner which is to stand by you all through college; but when one has heard white wings for the first time, one forgets everything but its meaning— everything but the fact that your friends are giving you your own banner and making you part of the college. Our feelings cannot be expressed. May the song speak for us the impression we carried away that night. Freshmen and friends as ever Will be true to each other and true to the blue. Elizabeth Tenney. 17