Hillman College - Pioneer Yearbook (Clinton, MS)

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TjFTEL I IOTM 1013 The Senior Decalogue 1. Thou shalt not wink at an M. C. boy until he winketh at thee. 2. Thou shalt honor and obey the instructors set over thee. 3. Thou shalt not abuse thy Senior privileges, lest the faculty abuse thee. 4. Thou shalt make good use of every “stute” reception, for they are numbered. 5. Thou shalt keep a safety catch on thy Senior pin. 6. Thou shalt not copy thy neighbors themes, nor his German sentences, nor his Latin prose. 7. Thou shalt study thy Chemistry diligently, lest thou blow out thy brains. 8. Thou shalt not be undignified. 9. Thou shalt not write to thy neighbor’s son nor thy neighbor’s grandson, nor any boy that is in thy neighbor’s house. 10. Thou shalt not wave at the boys with thy handkerchief, nor with thv bed- sheet, nor with thy hand, lest a teacher see thee and call thee to taw. Seniors’ Farewell That autumn day ! Can we forget, If we our three score years should pass, The day we girls of Hillman met To live nine months a Senior Class? Now parting comes! How can it be That we must leave this College dear, And from its life so soon be free? It brings from us a sigh, a tear! And oft in times of deepest gloom. When with our duties we are fraught. Memories of Hillman’s clover bloom Will be a balsam to our thought. If in the future we shall dream, Rejoicing, thinking o’er the past, And floating fast through pleasure’s stream, We needs must know, “It will not last.” O, Hillman, you have won our heart! We sleep, and dreaming, think of thee. Of life itself you’ll form a part, When other friends have ceased to be. So now we come to say good-bye, Hillman, we ask, forget-us-not. And as we leave thee with a sigh, Once more, farewell, forget-us-not ! 29

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PIOTSTE EJQ -1 Tg Z Senior Prophecy It was dusk and as I sat idly enjoying the deepening twilight, I saw something approaching which appeared at first to be a large interrogation point. As it came nearer I recognized the bent figure of Father Time. Rather frightened at first, 1 started up, but he spoke thus: “Be not frightened, my child, for unto you is the gift given to few, an insight into the future.” So speaking, he arranged an apparatus something like a magic lantern and as slide after slide appeared, 1 beheld my class mates as the future will show T them. On the first slide I beheld a large ball room beautifully decorated and teeming with lovely ladies, but as belle of them all, I recognized Ruby Hammack. Next came a large athletic field where vari ous contests were being held and the winner of most of the prizes was Lillah Sutton. The next scene was the sea coast. There as a dash- ing merry-widow, holding court with many suitors in her train, 1 beheld Ruby Roper. The scene changed to a tightly packed auditorium with the whole crowd held breathless by the sweet strains of music from Linda Mae’s piano and Eunice’s voice. A beautiful home appears; on the porch, happily awaiting the man I see so eagerly approaching, in the distance stands Flossie. On a goods box, madly gesticulating and speaking to the gaping crowds, stands a familiar form. Suddenly I see the placard “Votes for Women” and I know that Mamie Lea is a suffragette. ’Tis the Metropolitan Art Museum in New r York and the surging crowds are enthusiastically commenting upon the last picture of Zilphia Odom. The small house on the hill seems to belong entirely to cats, they are everywhere. The door opens, still more cats. But who is the old maid who suddenly appears in the midst? Why, it is Ruth McCaughan ! Again the scene changes. I see a great German University, and among the students I recognize Emmette. An operating room. Who is the efficient nurse, who so calmly assists in the operation? It is Fredda. In the court room a woman lawyer wins every case she undertakes. Who would have thought it of Lela Hollis? Last of all for a moment appears my own face. It looks at me with sardonic grin then quickly vanishes, leaving me ignorant of my own future. Away, ’tis enough.

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CFYIL TP 1 0.NE.BFb 1013 To the Old Central Female Institute Girls (By One of Them.) Comrades leave me here a little while I dream of days gone by, Leave me here for I am dreaming of the dear old C. F. I. ’Tis the place but not about it are the scenes of former days. Clinton changes, slowly, surely, from the well remembered wavs. Here about the place I wander catching glimpses of the past, Of the ones that have departed, of the things that could not last. Dr. Hillman, Mrs. Hillman, those great teachers of that date, When the C. F. 1. stood highest of the schools within the state, Heard the call of “come up higher” and they left the C. F. I., Giving it the name of Hillman as a parting legacy. Are there not some things remaining that the “Stute” girls knew of old? Let the vision broaden, brighten, let the day dream all be told. What is this? It looks familiar. Ah, the stairway in the hall, Which the “Stute” girls used on Sunday, just on Sunday, that was all. Down those stairs they passed on Sunday on their way to church or school, With the teachers watching closely, lest some girl should break a rule, By wearing overskirts or ruffles, silks or sashes, jewels loud, For the catalogue said plainly “none of these will be allowed.” Here’s the parlor, just the same room that the “Stute” girls knew r so well, But of good talks (?) sometimes had there, let each one her story tell. What is this I see in passing as I stroll along my way? ’Tis the same old black stair steps that we pounded many a day. With steps that were light or heavy as the owners feeling said. And for all that noisy rumpus to the back hall we were led, And made to stand there till we promised nevermore to be so bad, Thus to punish us so often, made our teachers very sad. To the library I will wander ’mong the books of long ago. Let me turn their pages fondly, for their contents you must know. Dear old books with ragged covers, but the contents are the same, And here and there among their pages will be scribbled just a name. Yet that name will call back memories of a girl with sweet blue eyes, Who has long since crossed the portals to the home beyond the skies. New books, good books, there are many that fill the shelves today, But I’ll caress these old ones fondly as I hasten on my way. What is this that’s pealing, pealing, as it swings there to and fro? ’Tis the same old bell that called us to our duties long ago; Called us when our footsteps faltered, faltered all along the way. And I see the same slow r coming, as it rings for girls today. Hark ! my waiting comrades call me. I have tarried long, I know. Visions of the past have held me, but they vanish and I go. Tho these mem’ries please our fancies, fare thee well, dear C. F. I. Forward, forward, Hillman College. Onward, upw T ard, is our cry. 30