Chowan College - Chowanoka Yearbook (Murfreesboro, NC)

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futor OIlaBfl Pnpm Four years of bells and numerous rules Have pressed us on with broadening thought We ' ve gazed with wistful eyes upon The changes wisdom oft times brought. Yes, we have grown in heart and mind Since we first came with laughter gay. We ' ve worn each doorsill and staircase Within these walls of studious gray. No geniuses, nor pure white lambs ! But fifteen girls with eager hearts. Who strive with heads above the crowd Nor measure worth by city marts. Not social slaves nor baby-dolls. Men ' s equals we are for the right ; Stanch women, we, of future years. Who have the brains to vote and fight. Then each of us in Class ' Sixteen Will stand and rise to her ideals. We each will live those rich, pure lives And leave no echo time will seal.

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day-school as Ethopia. Truly, this is a wondrous age ! As Eva and I passed out of the Capitol I admired the wonderful interior decorations. She informed me that they were done by Lillian Brite and Fannie Jenkins, who were employed bv the Government to decorate the buildings according to their ideas of art learned at Chowan College. It was true that they had taken extensive courses in Boston, New York and Paris, but President Xowell discarded all ideas gained from those sources and desired only Chowan talent. Strains of music greeted my ear as I left the Capitol. I went in the direction of the sound and found I was just in time for the afternoon concert by the United States Marine Band. The graceful movements of the conductor attracted my attention and as I drew nearer I recognized Maude Sawyer, who was exercising all the power of her musical temperament for a careful directing of that famous classic, Clementine. Each musician was carefully following the movements of the conductor in order that none of the beautiful effects of this famous com- position might be lost. Could I believe my own eyes ! Yes, there sat Kate Jenkins playing the bass tuba. I always knew that that breath control of Kate Jenkins would amount to something, but I hardly thought it would find its way through a brass tuba. In the stirring climax the oboe was the most prominent instrument of all. I looked to see what manner of person could draw forth from the oboe such soul stirring tones, when to my astonishment I recognized Helen Winborne. As the last pathetic strains died away on the evening air, I drew forth my red bandanna and walked slowly away. 3ProjiJ|prg for tl|p f rnpl|pt cannot tell lioii. ' the tale may be. I tell the tale as it was told to me. While Ruth Sawyer was narrating for your benefit the varied careers that have been ours, from the time we left Chowan until this notable reunion, I have been thinking over Fate ' s tricks to her. Such a thing as one of us becoming famous was never thought of back in our school days, but Ruth has surprised us. I am sure you have all been reading articles in the magazines concerning the new foods and the new fangled ways of preparing them. We make sure our husbands keep posted on them. Those articles are written by none other than the renowned Domestic Science specialist, ] Iiss Ruth Sawyer. My husband makes the best fricasseed hippopotamus and consomme made from elephant ' s trunk from her recipes, but the finest results of her recipes is the orangoutang salad garnished with persimmons. Isn ' t it great that she came from our midst ? I will not take time to enumerate further on her great work, but from these few illustrations you can see what she is doing. Perhaps after all she is only making preparatimis for the future and is still concocting recipes for the use of i raham flour. Ci.. ss President. 28

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(With profuse apologies to anyone who may have entertained similar thoughts.) Personre — Hermes. Story-teller. Spirits. Place — Infernal Regions. Time — Any. FigsT AND Only Act. The Descent, Hermes and Story Teller. S. T. — Softly, softly. These spirits ! How they affright me, Those little ones that cry, and moan so — What meaneth they ? Horrible ! Hermes — They are but spirits who many years gone by Were slain poring over books — dry and musty. Fear not. We will push on. S. T. — But those bent and worn figures there. Who toil with fingers quaint, And who are followed by books that walk as men. Who are they, and why so bent and gray? Hermes — Pity them! They are deserving more. Theirs has been a lot that ' s hard, For they did flourish once in a college That stood on the banks of the Meherrin. They taught there three score years and ten. They harm no one. Let ' s push on. (They come to the Rh-er Sty.v. They embark in tJic ferryman ' s bar; e and float dozen: the stream. Spirits arc seen on the banks of the ri ' c ' cr.) Hermes — These, Fair Lady, are the souls of those Who lived without praise or blame. S. T. (pointing) — Methinks that book ragged and torn, So studiously folded is Grace Pearce. Hermes — True, O Fair One, like an Ancient thou speakest. For much Mathematics is she here. And to purge away the blackness of her hours spent Poring over its contents. Into a book she has turned, dog-eared and Worn as her books ever were. That spirit behind the rest is Rose Xowell — a noble soul. 30