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

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18 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN musty m$ t I AM commissioned to detail our Rush Nights because until I was a Junior I never took part in one and so have a calm, judicial opinion of them. Freshman year, I remember well, we had a wild class meeting when, among other things, we learned to sing with an appearance of enthusiastically believing it, that here we came. The choice of people to lead the line was another important thing accomplished at that class meeting. Some one suggested Jeanette and some one else said: Get up and let ' s see you. Then Jeanette arose, inflated her brawny chest, and rolled up her jumper sleeve to show us her muscle; that was enough — and she and Agnes Wood successfully butted their way through all obstacles. Speaking of jumpers — I was ignorant in those days, and when Florence told us we were to wear jumpers and short skirts, I had visions of us in some sort of baby clothes. The appropriateness of it even made me mad. I was so relieved when Scottie told me a jumper was a middy blues. Well, that first Rush Night, I hear, was fearfully thrilling, and it accomplished the purpose it was meant to. It introduced us to 1910 thoroughly, and to 1909 most pleasantly, and we were not divided. But the thrill of Sophomore year. It began when we decided to wear Pierrot costumes, it rose when John Richardson discovered 1912 ' s tune and Amy and Scottie wrote derisive words to it— it reached a climax when behind Radnor we scattered the Freshmen, like so much astonished chaff, thanks to Schmittie ' s correct imitation of a Freshman. I did get in on some of that Rush Night, for, coming out from town, and entering Denbigh, I heard Kate Rotan Drinker shout, No violence! Remember, no violence, while she pushed Hoby through the wall with one hand and propelled 1912 along with the other. A little farther down Elsa was begging us to remember that we had given up violence, while she deftly hung Delano over the electric fight fixtures and helped the Freshman keep on the key. When we finally arrived under the Arch, Jeanette and Frances Hearne still locked in a deadly struggle, Leila ironing out any one who came in her way, Virginia acting like a snow plow through the masses of 1910, the Freshmen had been as it were discounted and the contention was carried on by those most interested. As Juniors we had arrived at the point of decrying violence ourselves, with fierceness

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THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 17 I opened the door of the middle suite just as Pleasaunce had said, Not a soul was to be seen, not a sound to be heard. I opened the bedroom door, and there, filling the room to overflowing, piled up on the floor, on the bed, and perched on the bureau, was the first class meeting. There were figures familiar and yet strangely unfamiliar. Flo and Anna sat huddled up in a corner in kimonos, with soap and towels in their hands, just as they had been seized on their way to the bathroom. Harriet Couch was there in evening dress and cape, with a gold band in her hair which riveted my attention like something new and strange, although I had seen it every day for the past year in school. My climax has to suffer somewhat here for no Sophomore jumped out of the closet or crawled from und er the bed, as Florence Wyman was nominated chairman. Everything went smoothly, and we elected our chairman, with the usual implicit faith in our Juniors, though not one of us knew who, what or why Florence was. Somebody opened a window and a cheer went up from the crowd of Juniors gathered underneath. The meeting was over, and we all adjourned to the Arch for the singing and cheering and to meet our new chairman. Thus was the little account settled between 1909 and 1910. After the words of Les Romanesques, One first class meeting with variations attempted, and 1911 was hence- forth to go calm and undisturbed along the path of regular and uninteresting class meeting. Marguerite Layton.

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THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 19 that dared 1912 to lay hands on one Freshman. Detailed to clear out the halls before the rush entered, we encountered one persistent party of ghosts which had to be dragged out by the heels from some room on the ground floor of each hall. The corporealness of their supposedly spiritual bodies made it stiff work, and we felt justified in bumping them along the floors as we hauled them forth. Then, too, there was a curious weight, a feeling as of solidity to their rushes without violence at doors of the various halls. If there were any Freshmen in that rush, I don ' t remember them (I suppose there must have been, however), but the uproar, and the pushing, and the fighting, all so strictly without violence, were simply wonderful. It was with a proud consciousness of our superiority and yet with undignified regret and open longing that, with satin capes and supercilious smiles, we watched the same old rough house sweep past. Past! Ominous sound, yet for us there was one thrill left in Rush Night. Our bones creaking and gray hair waving in the breeze, we had the satisfaction of taking our places on the Pem West steps and of starting that first Anassa. Margaret Prussing. •Is it Hvputlt to write this way about Senior year