Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. 13 Sunrise and Sunset in the Highlands. F AlyL the poets who have taken Nature as their theme, not one has ever surpassed Sir Walter Scott. As we turn the pages of the great Scottish bard, we often find ourselves wondering what it is that makes his word-pictures of natural scenery appeal so strongly to our imagination, and the chief rea- son seems to be, that he loved Nature so dearly, that he came so truly near Nature ' s heart, that sjie unfolded for him her great, golden heart, and revealed herself to him in all her purity and beauty. And his love for her was mingled with something that amounted almost to adoration; he considered it desecration to de- file the temple of this goddess with his own joys and sorrows. To him, even in his saddest moments, the massive mountains, with their crowns of purest snow, raised their heads as proudly to the skies as if his own heart were not bowed down with grief and pain; the brooks flowed as gaily, as merrily along, as if the fount- ains of his love and happiness were not frozen and still; and soon, under their gladdening influence, his evil moods vanished, and he took pleasure anew in the songs of the birds and in the bud- ding of the flowers. It is no wonder, then, that this, the noblest passion of Scott ' s soul, should show itself so I ' requently in his writings, and that his descriptions of the scenery in his beloved home-land, Scotland, should be more admired than anything else in his poems. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and the Lady of the Lake, are all filled with these glowing word-pictures, but one, which has always been considered especially beautiful, is the description of a sunset scene in the Trosachs. Let us imagine ourselves, now, on the lofty summit of Ben An, and view, with our poet ' s eyes, this magnificent panorama. Far below us roll the waters of Loch Katrine, now one burnished sheet of living gold, as they are touched by the Midas-like fing. er of the dying sun. Toward the south rises huge Ben Venue, crowned by these same magic fingers with a halo of encircling light, while nestled at its base lie massive forests stretching away to soft vales and undulating meadows in the distance. As we turn in another direction, our eyes fall on the dark glens and ra-

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12 llie Augusta Seminary Amiiial. And out of the dim past a remembrance comes to him of a picture painted in the happy days of youth, In the hall there hangs a painting — Amy ' s arms about my neck — Happy children a sunbeam sitting on the ribs of wreck. Lady Clara Vere de Vere is a type of the modern society girl, we may find her in the crowded ball room in winter, or upon the grassy tennis court in summer, a mere butterfly basking in the smiles of her admirers. Who trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb, As her thoughts were beyond recalling, With a glance for one and a glance for some, From her eye-lids rising and falling, Speaks common words with a blushful air, Hears told words unreproving, She lures her victims on by the witchery of her bright eyes and the coquetry of her manner, valuing the love of a true heart as she would some new song, pleasing until its place is filled by another, newer and more charming. And many other pictures are equally as fine, such as that of rare, pale Margaret, of faintly smiling Adeline, or of Maud concerning whom the poet says. Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls. Come hither, the dances are done, ■ In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls. Queen lily and rose in one ; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the flo wers, and be their sun. - - % She is coming, my own, my sweet ; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed ; My dust would hear her and beat. Had T lain for a century dead ; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red. All of these are very delicately and tenderly sketched, form- ing in themselves a gallery worthy of any great artist of the Italian school, a gallery which not only pleases us as we wander through it in youth, but which remains throughout life a pleasant memory, its pictures rising unbidden before our eyes as we sit alone in the twilight of many a summer day. Mary McCulloch.

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14 The Augusta Seviinary Ayimial. vines of the Trosachs, one tangled mass of hazel and hawthorne blossom, from which comes the faint, sweet odor of the eglantine and brier-rose. And now our poet brings before us another scene, different, yet quite as beautiful, for Scott loved Nature in all her changing moods, and has represented her to us not only in all the splendor of her siinset glor3% but in the dewy freshness of morning, and in the solemn majesty of midnight. Now the sun is just rising o ' er the hills and forests ' round Loch Katrine, and its golden beams dart hither and thither, play- ing hide-and-seek in the broad boughs of the overhanging trees, and dancing on the rippling waters of the lake. At their touch, the gray mists leave the mountain-side, and float away in great, billowy masses, whose fleecy brightness is reflected in the blue depths of the lake below. One pale wreath still hovers on the topmost peak of Ben An, as if to play with the ivy-vine which there flaunts its banners gaily in the breeze, or to caress the small wind-flowers which, awakened by a merry sunbeam ' s morning kiss, now raise their graceful heads to the heavens. All Nature is glad; the very torrent seems joyful and leaps to show its glist- ening pride; but above the noise of its laughing waters, comes the gentle coo of the cushat dove, and the answering notes of the lark as it up-springeth, blythe, to greet the purpling east. Nannie McFarland. Y. W. C. A. OU need a Young Women ' s Christian Association here. j It would be the greatest help in the world to you. These earnestly spoken words fell upon the ears of a number of girls and teachers gathered in the parlor of the A. F. S. one evening in May, 1894. Mr. D. Willard Lyon, traveling secretary of the Student Volunteer Movement for Foreign Mis- sions, was the speaker on that memorable evening and we eagerly listened to his words of counsel, for each felt the need — the unde- finable something that was lacking to make the dear old Semin- ary perfect in our loving estimation.