Chicora College for Women - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Columbia, SC)

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History of 1902 I 11E years revolve, the months fly on their course, and once again the historian sits down to her task of acquainting the “gentle reader” with the successes and failures, the peculiarities and eccentricities, of “naughty two’s,” who, if the fates and the instructors he not averse, will as graduates, soon make their bow to the world. Well, we must confidentially confess, were it not for long hours of poring over Trigonometry, Physics, and Astronomy, and for the ease with which we bear ourselves in society’s realm, we might in a moment of drowsiness, fancy ourselves once more passing the days of Freshmanhood. Our ambitions, our aspirations, are the highest, the best; our motto, “ Excelsior ! ” Even in our infancy (as college girls) we “ hitched our wagon to a star.” Many of us have been marching steadily onward for two long years, some of us even four. The yay has been long, the struggle hard, and we are justly proud of the many successes that have brightened our course. Our instructors will bear us witness that our attainments in the class- room have been of no mean order. In this connection, only one point can we mention, and that is the tine spirit with which the Senior Latin Class has cleared up and embedded in memory the facts contained in the outline of Latin Syntax. We’ve had our fun. We’ve broken most every law of the Decalogue; so we feel we can honestly take our dips with clear consciences and all the inward satisfaction of something attempted, nothing done. Not that there’s “ nothing doing,” but that the doctrine of least work has been universally adopted. The diversions of ’02 are numerous, refreshing, and invigorating. All possess a tendency for the trodden paths of transgression. Some delight in paying penalties by memorizing a portion of “Dictionary”; others have stained their record with an occasional “mark.” Limited numbers remain in their rooms on Monday afternoons, endeavoring to escape the ways of error. However, the memories of the many pleasant days spent in and around dear old Chicora will not soon he forgotten by those who compose this noble Class of Nineteen Hundred and Two. And now we shall soon hid farewell to the days spent amid the all- powerful hut quiet influence of the charm that pervades that little spot of earth called Chicora. May our own lives reflect the high principles which our associations here have instilled into our minds, and may the great, busy world have cause to congratulate itself that here we were prepared for life’s struggle. Tiie Historian. 24

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Acrostic. There’s Rhea and McAulay, inseparable pair; Humphreys, the girl who is wont to declare E,very day that Colclough ne'er sits in a chair. Can you think Farmer, a tiller of soil, Loving a Johnson, who never will toil? A beautiful Wood, that is not very dark ; Sheldon, the girl whose life is a lark; Shall Westmoreland don the dress of the ark ? Oh I then there is Douglas o'er whom teachers rave ; polgers there 're two, so solemn and grave. Next there is Dorroh, so stately and tall, I really think by her side Kelley is small. N°w, don’t forget Harmon, beloved President ; Except not dear Beattie, our one resident. Then there is DuPree with expression so sweet; E,ver McCarley is talking of feet (musical ones) ; E,very day Thompson counts till we 're released ; Now comes McCutchen, last, but not least. There ’ve been classes and classes, yet I 'm sure 't is true. Were they all compared by me or by you, o utshone they'd all be by Nineteen Two. V. F. '02.

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Prophecy. IT was twilight of a winter’s eve. The peculiar silence which is character- istic of that period of the day had fallen like a holy calm upon the city. I sat in my room alone, absorbed in thoughts of the future, when suddenly the room was transformed into a winding country road along which I was walking with the noonday sun beaming full upon me. Catching a glimpse of a shady, cool-looking knoll some distance to the l ight of the road, I turned aside in that direction, hoping to find a suitable place where I could rest a while. As I neared the knoll it grew larger and larger, and on coming upon it I perceived an opening in the side over which was written in large letters, “ Cave of Futurity.” Ferns and beautiful flowers grew in the cavern and the delightful cool- ness of the atmosphere lured me into it. After delightedly looking about me for a time, I caught sight of a couch made from soft green moss, and being very weary, I could not resist the temptation to lay me down and rest. Immediately, as if by magic, I was carried forward into the future, and a liv- ing panorama, familiar and yet unfamiliar, passed before my wondering, raptured sight. The first picture presented was Birmingham parish, which boasted of the best rector in the State. Every one sang the praises of this good man, especially the sick and destitute. Day and night he was seen darting in and out of the homes of the rich and hovels of the poor alike, seeing about his Father’s business. The question was asked why it was that when he was young he was so worldly and now he led such a useful life. The good man answered himself that he owed it all to the influence of his excellent wife who was Mary Beattie, of Greenville, S. C. The parish fades away and the great hospital of Baltimore takes its place. Here I saw a corps of well-trained nurses flitting noiselessly about, smoothing a pillow here, admini-tering a palliative there, and doing the thousand and one little things which go to make up the life of a trained nurse. But I noticed that among these nurses, which all seemed alike to me, there was evidently one who was a general favorite. 'The patients had named her the “ Good Angel of the Hospital,” and I began to study her to see if the name was appropriate. Something about her movements carried me back to my school days, and the form of Scriven Colclough persisted in coming up before me. 25