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Page 24 text:
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year consisted in unorganized hilarity which it better becomes the dignity of the first class to leave in oblivion. There was a Tennyson evening, however, and some real musicales. Father McLoughlin, always the staunch friend of 1908, occasionally came of an evening to regale us with beautiful music. There were lectures, too. Father Halpin, then a stranger to us, gave a talk one Saturday morning. It was truly inspiring. We did not dare dream then that we could have him as a teacher and chaplain! When warm weather came, we had a straw ride. Reverend Mother Irene had given her permission for the affair but I don’t think she had the faintest conception of the degree of rusticity involved. She looked so astonished when she saw her young ladies jauntily ensconced in a hay-wagon! But the permission held and it was a glorious straw ride — a moonlight picnic moving along the shores of the Sound. No one who was there will ever forget it! The last days of Pioneer year will always call up to my mind the first Quarterly. Few publications have, I think, been more conscientiously edited. There were conferences for months between the editors, who were Mary McDonnell, Anna McLoughlin and the humble author of these reminiscences and Mother Augustine and Mr. Nelson Hume. Whatever the financial status of the present Quarterly, the first edition, at least, looked more prosperous. It was de luxe in every respect except contents. Fat cherubs, who looked as lf milk and honey had agreed with them, disported themselves about the College seal. The title in Old English surmounted this device and the whole was printed on heavy art paper in pale blue and bound with blue silk cords. Inside were painfully labored essays on abstruse subjécts. Each small literary craft steered out of the safe port of one irreproachable quotation through the perilous breakers of Exposition into the welcome haven of another two line sentiment, preferably verse. But no one will ever know the vast labor of love that went into that first Quarterly. We were ten, all told, and it was a brave undertaking for so small a group. It would have been impossible save for the fact that Mother Augustine’s boundless courage and cheerful common-sense stood behind us. For most of us, Mother Augustine was the College and 1908 would have gone through more than editorial throes to prove itself worthy of Mother Augustine s faith. A word is due here to the wonderful efforts of our first dean, Reverend Mother Irene. Few of us will forget just how Herculean was her work as founder nor the tender thoughtfulness she showed each Pioneer. She was very proud of our Quarterly. The printing-press and pioneer days do not go together, and with the first college publication the old times ended. When another term began, the college had reached a vigorous childhood, and the anxious period was safely past. Mary Curran, ’08. • Page Twenty-two
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Page 23 text:
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Then we were on close terms with the parent institution. Many strong friendships existed between the Seminary Seniors and the College. The Recreation Hour in the evening and the Study Period in the afternoon were common ground for both. The latter ignominious institution was soon abolished and when we grew large enough to fill our own table, we moved to what is now the Chaplain’s Dining Room, and so we saw less and less of the younger girls. Our class room, we only needed one, was the front part of the present College Library. The same sulky plaster Dante adorned the bookcase and there was a portable blackboard on which Mother Augustme conjured up ghastly sines, cosines and variables out of the “infinity ’ which was their proper sphere. The original teaching force underwent many changes during the first year. Mother Augustine in the Mathe- matics department, Mother Carthage in History, Professor Smagnan in French, Madame Sinagnan in German and Miss Fay in elocution were the only stationary classes as regards teachers. Dear Mother Carthage, who died the following term, held a variety of chairs in different subjects. English was most chaotic of all. There was Misc Roberts, Miss Klapp and a number of interregnums, all more or less disturbing until Miss Bush came in our Sophomore year to make us wells of Fnglish, pure and undefiled. There were no electives. Everyone took everything and “music extra.’’ There seemed to be a general desire to “brush up,” as it was called, and there was a tremendous amount of well-meant though futile practice. A popular course was Friday Afternoon Etiquette. Under the kindly escort of Professor Rutledge, (who must have received his degree from the Old School) we enjoyed the weekly pleasure of “meeting the King.” Mr. Pallen came on Mondays to deliver a course of lectures on Dante. The spirits in the “Paradise” couldn t have been more exquisitely well behaved than we were during that hour. Dr. Manning gave an occasional talk on physiology. On Saturdays Miss Tucker regaled us with choice tidbits from the New York City educational scheme. These were our works and looking back, with a vivid remembrance of the small amount of energy we put into each, (always excepting Mary McDcnnell and Anna McLoughlin) I think we must have been judged principally by the faith that was in us! But there was a social side. The first and greatest event of the year was a sort of combination affair, a lecture on the Nile, moving-picture show, banquet, all of which were as nothing to the main feature — the first wearing of the cap and gown. Oh, those first scholastic iirpedimenta ! Like the curses of the Jackdaw of Rheims, they hung on our backs “In sitting, in standing, in lying, In walking, in riding, in flying.” Moving pictures had not then fallen into disrepute and, viewed through the tassel of a neighbor’s cap, might even be considered aesthetic. The banquet, too, was a brilliant affair only marred by the fact that, when we were called upon to respond to toasts, we were too dazed by magnificence to utter a syllable. Most of the sociableness of that Page Twenty-one
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