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

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I was always curious to know what profession one of mv classmates would follow. She was always so timid, and especially in the classroom. I heard a sound like the chatter of birds, and, having turned, beheld the campus of Wesleyan Female College teeming with girlish forms. Wondering what topic they were dis¬ cussing, I listened to a dignified group—evidently seniors. They were praising their English teacher, lauding her noble qualities and gifts. At that moment the object of their conversation passed—Louise Dye. 1 knew nothing of the whereabouts of our influential Lillian Davis. But it wasn’t long before 1 found her sitting in her studio, in New York, painting a pic¬ ture by which she was to gain much fame. While enjoying the privilege of seeing Xew York, my wandering glance rested on a secluded, a frail figure attired as a sister of charity stole quietly from the gate of a convent and entered the poverty-stricken district. It was Sister Dixon. Disappointment had led her to this secluded life. How hard was it for me to believe that this was our little flirt, Annie Dixon. One of my classmates I could never understand, but “Father Time” revealed the secret to me by calling my attention to a magnificent home in the new part of the city. No feature that wealtli could add seemed to he lacking. Then a young woman entered the flower-garden and moved among the blooming clusters, as if to add a crowning glory to the picture. How vivid were my memories when I recognized Elizabeth Dove. Whom should I behold next on my circle of vision but Fannie Blair. Her destiny was extremely uncertain, for she was no sooner at one thing than she tried another. The hope of her youth was to go on the stage. But she abandoned that idea, and when I saw her she was at the head of a bachelor girls ' hall, to which she invited all maidens who hated mankind. Fannie’s work was not in vain, as she had many applicants. My vision began to grow dim, and there was another of my classmates I had not found. I searched diligently, and after turning my instrument in all direc¬ tions found Annie West. She had married a very rich old man, who afterwards died, leaving her a fortune. After her bereavement she lost all interest in social affairs, and had retired to her home on the Hudson. She had opened this grand home to the poor, and was spending her time and money trying to make them happy. Then a sudden loud ringing aroused me. What could it have been ? ' Twas the rising bell at Chicora. Oh! 1 was dreaming. The birds were chirping with¬ out, and all nature seemed to have said, “Awake from thy dreams, ’tis commence¬ ment morn.” N. Moore, ’o6. 28

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While gazing over Greenville I saw Dr. Preston pointing to a young lady and heard him say: That young lady is a graduate of 1906. I at once recognized Geneva West. She still wore that same jolly smile and mischievous look. “Well,” continued the Doctor, that girl has certainly made a name for herself. She is one of the finest cartoonists in South Carolina. And Lillian Proffitt—what has become of her? The last we heard of her she was at the Lhiiversity of New York taking a special course in math. But finding that math, was not her calling, she began a new study, and I found her as a trained nurse in one of the large hospitals of Philadelphia. Her low voice and soothing touch had quieted many a suffering patient. At Chicora many thought that Ruth Crisp would become a noted contralto singer, but she surprised us all. There is a certain lawyer who would not think of giving up his little stenographer. In the city of Washington, in front of one of the largest stores, was this adver¬ tisement: Come to the opening! Miss Goddard has taken unusual pains with her spring stock, and you are sure to find something to suit you.” I at once turned my instrument upon her store, where I saw some of the loveliest hats that could be found, each one showing artistic taste. The whole establishment did credit to my old classmate, Mary Goddard. I was not at all surprised when I saw in a brilliantly lighted parlor, in her home in Rogersville, a large gathering of young people, assembled to hear the cel¬ ebrated pianist, Mayme Hunter. She had just returned home after several years’ study of her art in Germany. Her justly won fame had preceded her, and all welcomed her back. The noise of the fast trains that had stopped in Atlanta caused me to look that way, but I had no idea of seeing anyone that I knew. Happening to glance in a passing car, I saw a face that made me start. Yes, it was Eunice Flanagan ' s. She was en route from her Southern home to the far West to attend a grand con¬ ference of the Y. W. C. A., with which she was prominently identified as lecturer and organizer. I knew exactly where to find Annie Sawtell, so did not have to change mv instrument from Atlanta, but began searching for her in one of the schools there. How often had we heard her say, “When I finish at Chicora I am going to teach in one of the grammar schools of Atlanta.” I was glad to find her so well pleased with the place where she had always wanted to be and the work she had always wanted to do. A noble purpose finely executed!

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Class Will E, THE MEMBERS of the Class of ’06, in this, the most momen¬ tous part of the year, being of sound mind but somewhat frail bodies, do hereby make our last will. To you, our worthy successors, we bequeath our teachers, who have been so patient and faithful to us. But spare them the many tortures we have inflicted. To you we leave all valuable articles found in our classrooms, to be used to a better advantage than the aforesaid class has used them. We, Agnes Seyle, Mary Montgomery and Louise Dye, will our frivolity, wit, and knowledge of the art of flirtation to Lila Hammet, Belle Scott and Johnnie Severance, as they lack this important science to a surprising degree. I, Annie West, will my title as “Greatest Cut” to Bertha Johnson. 1 , Annie Dixon, hereby bequeath my honorable office as biggest flirt to Edena Hidden. I, Nita Moore, as brightest girl in school, feel fully capable of parting with a sufficient amount of knowledge to start Cornelia I’lowden off in the responsible position of a Senior. 1 , Annie Sawtell, hereby bequeath to Lucy Calvert my desperate attempts at rhyme-making. One exception, the poem, Senior ' s Luck, is to be sent to the dime museum and preserved for future generations. 1 , Grace Sullivan, will my diploma in expression to Flossie Jenkins. 1 , Eleanor Gourdin, lease my voice to Ada Harrall until she finishes her course in music. I, Mayrne Hunter, hereby bequeath my reserve, carefulness in speech and stateliness to Carrie Floyd. We, Eunice Ilallenger and Lillian Davis, being the most influential girls, will our influence to the College Faculty, to be dealt out to various individuals, as they deem expedient. I, Geneva West, will my cuteness to Lalla Reynolds. Few mistakes I have made, but she is at liberty to correct these and take such measures toward improve¬ ment as she thinks necessary. We, Lillian Proffit, and Ruth Crisp, hereby will our tact in making loafing attractive to Elsie Thompson and Ida “2” Preston. 1 , Mary Goddard, will my style in hair-dressing to Blanche Rose. 29