Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. 19 and I believe in a short time your voice will be a mere whisper. Each word had grown louder and more severe, and I put my hands over my ears, secretly determining to practice the Oro- tund every day. Hearing a slight rustling on the bed, I looked down and was amazed to .see a poor little shivering dog climbing up on the bed- It was Beauty, hardly recognizable now that he was shorn of his once beautiful hair. Oh me! he whined, I ' m so cold, and I fear that I cannot survive the winter. Curses be upon you wick- ed girls who have stolen y curls for your ' memoir books ! ' and an ominous growl followed. I shuddered and tried to think when I had succeeded in obtaining a lock of Beauty ' s coveted hair, for Ivallie and I had cha.sed him over the back gallery and even into the office, but in vain. Not the smallest piece could we get. Next came a low, heavy-set man, dressed in the tunic worn by the farmer in the early ages. When I saw the broad open countenance, the Roman nose, and the beautiful curly hair, I thought of Cincinnatus. His words verified my suspicion, for he began in an enraged tone : ' ' ' My name is Lucius Quintius Cin- cinnatus, and I am known to history as one averse to using polit- ical power in order to gain wealth. Did I save my country, re- fuse a golden crown and return to my plough just to have a little ignoramus say : ' He was the Roman whose character was most like that of Pausanias. ' You shall pay dearly for this my lady. I turned awaj ' , hoping to shut out these visions, but on that side stood Miss D. with an empty ink bottle and a half corrected composition. Now Kittie, .she sighed, ' ' I did not think that you would hand in such work. I have used all my red ink and have burnt my midnight oil, but here is the composition still un- finished. You may take it and come to my room Saturday. I opened my lips to lemonstrate, but ere a word escaped I was transfixed with horror. Over the bed came a dreadful mouse which paused and said in low, sad tones : ' Would you, could you be so cruel as to set a trap for a poor little innocent mouse, just because you want to dissect one in ' our Physiology class? He came nearer and nearer, almost to my pillow. This was be- yond human endurance, and I gave one awful shriek and bound- ed out of bed.

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18 The AiLgusta Seminary Anmial. dem ner touch nothin ' . Den de soldiers la£F an ' ax him what he can do. Mars Phil he jis stands up in front uvole Missus an ' yer Ma a-lookin ' ' zactly ez if he could whip de whole Union army. Den one big soldier rides up an ' sez wid tears in his eyes dat he ' s got a li ' l boy like Mars Phil at home an ' dat dey shan ' t hurt nuthin ' dat is ' fended by sech a brave li ' l soldier. At dat dey all wheel roun ' an ' ride off. And de big soldier he kiss Mars Phil for his li ' l boy ' s sake and says if ever he sees Mars Phil ' s pa he gwine ter tell him what a brave boy he ' s got. An ' dat ' s how Mars Phil took keer uv his ma and his li ' l sister. Now run along, honey, I ain ' t got no time to be a-tellin you stories. A Student ' s Dream. HAT is this ? Some one rapping at my door ? Before I had time to bid the unexpected one enter, the door opened wide, and in walked an aged man, withered and bent, with long, shaggy, black hair, and wild, staring eyes. He ap- proached my bed and upon seeing me cried in anger : So you are the wretch who dared to play ' Yankee Doodle ' and ' Dixie ' when you should have practiced my Landler Waltz ? To pun- ish you, I shall prevent Prof. M. from giving you that beautifully bound Beethoven which you have so long teased him to let you have. I am Beethoven, and with ihat he ceased, and stood at the foot of the bed glaring upon me. No sooner had he become silent than in came a blind man, very old, and very handsome, whom I recognized as ivfilton. Now what can you say, he began, for naming that blood- curdling Coleridge as the author of my immortal Paradise Lost ? You shall pay the penalty, and with that he took his place by the side of Beethoven. Trembling, I turned to see who had now darkened the door. It was a pale, sorrow-stricken man who approached and began severely : I am Mark Anthony, and when I cried ' Friends. Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears, ' do you think I said it in the thin, squeaky voice in which you repeated it this morninir in Elocution ? Each succeeding generation is less and less energetic,

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20 The Augusta Seniiyiary Ayimial. Before I had time to realize where I was, Grace was by my side exclaiming anxiously : Kittie, what on earth is the mat- ter ? Are you sick ? I am going to call Miss P. Feeling very silly, but very much relieved, I crawled into bed and drew the cover close about me, thankful it was only a dream. Kittie Aldridge An Old Tropica! Town. f e were obliged to stay over in Jundiahy, owing to the delay of donkeys and men, which were to transport us and our baggage to San Paulo; yet the hours flew by on winge ' d feet, for many a charming spot we found while exploring the old, world- f orgotten town. It nestled at the foot of the mountains which towered in sentinel silence above it, and the narrow, principal street wound on by the adobe houses, draped in yellow jessamine, with here and there a satyr, broken-armed, gleaming in desolate splendor amid the overgrown luxuriance of the garden, wound by the mud-daubed huts of the out-cast lepers, by the spaikling fountain in the square, until at last it passed out to the country beyond and changed the roughness of the cobble-stones for the dustiness of a country-road. The little inn at which we slept and quaffed numberless cups of fragrant coffee, cups which seemed to have imprisoned in their depths the sweetness of the ciimson coffee-berries and the odor of their blossoms, fronted on this square, and it was here we brought our portfolios, our embroidery, our sketching. We brought them, but that was all, for our eyes and thoughts wandered pleasantly with the wayfarers in the street. Numerous donkeys with giant, orange-laden panniers hang- ing on either side passed us, their drivers strolling behind, or whistling, children, goats and sheep occupied the side-walks in turn and the owners of the little fruit-shops brought their chairs out and tilting them back against the wall, watched the smoke of their pipes curl lazily upward, until at last their eyes grew heavy and they dreamed, all unconscious of the mosquitos and flies we foreigners found so troublesome. At the fountain were