Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Mary Baldwin Seminary. 1 1 But the coiiscietice-Kinittt:!! Joe was in no mood for expla- nation. ' Come on home aiul let ' s jjo tochurch, he answered savagely. Church ? You can go to church if you want, but I am going to stay here and watch him till you come back. At this reply, Joe ' s heart sank within him. To kill a deer on Sunday was bad enough, but to make his brother stay awaj ' from church was worse. No, John, he said severely, you must come, people will talk. As the farmers stood about the church door waiting for service to begin, there were numerous inquiries as to the whereabouts of the Brown brothers. I am afraid something must be the matter, said farmer Black. Joe Brown hasn ' t failed to be here by ten o ' clock, rain or shine, summer or whiter, since he was elected deacon, five years ago come this December. Now it is most eleven. While the first hymn was being sung, the Browns entered the church. The Deacon ' s head was bowed low as he walked up the aisle, but there seemed to be an unusually bright twinkle in the grey eyes of his brother that brought an omi- nous sigh from the elders bench. The sermon for the day was on repentance. After an able discourse, the minister called on Deacon Brown to pray. That prayer! Its like had never been heard in the annals of Mount Horeb The penitence, the humility the utter self-abnega- tion of the petitioner brought tears to the eyes of his hearers. On the way home the elders wives said to one another in awed tones, that Deacon Brown did seen to grow more consecrated every day of his life. The next dinner-table day the minister dined with his fa- vorite deacon. On the dinner- table was a huge roast of veni- son. Why Deacon, you must have had good luck Satur- day, said the jovial clergyman Where did you get him ? ' Over in John ' s old field. was the sententious answer.

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lo The Anmial of the deer ' s shoulder instead of in the vital part at which it had been aimed. With a o:reat bound the wounded buck shot off across the field, hotly pursued by Deacon Brown whose Sun- day coat-tails flapped madly in the wind. On and on they flew, the Deacon trying at every step to get another shot. At last Joseph saw his prey disappear behind a high stone fence, and knew that it must have fallen. As he drew near, he saw a man standing over the dead deer, then the enormity of his deed rushed upon him. He, a deacon in the church of Mount Horeb, to be caught chasing a deer on Sunday! His rifle dropped from his nerveless grasp and discharged its load into the ground, For a moment Joe wished it had gone into his own heart. As his startled imag- ination presented before him the terrible consequences of his sin, he saw himself an object of scorn to his fellew churchmen whose greatest respect he had heretofore enjoyed. Then re- membering his own severity on a similar case, there aro.se be- fore his mind a court-room scene in which he stood as pri.son- er charged with breaking the laws of God and man. The oak tree in front of him was suddenly converted into a gallows from whose great arm a man ' s body swung, and oh, sicken- ing thought, it was his own ! As he closed his eyes to shut out the terrible sight, a familiar voice addressed him. He looked up. The man by the fence was his own brother. John. His heart gave a great bound of relief — maybe he was not lost after all. ' ' Joe, did you shoot this deer ? ' ' ■ ' Yes, John, I did, but for God ' s sake don ' t tell on me. Tell on you ! I ain ' t goin ' to tell on you. But you won ' t need anybody to tell on you if people come by to church and see him lying here dead. Come let ' s drag him over the hill out of sight. The two men fell to work and .soon had the dead deer on the other side of the hill, well out of the way of church-goers. The worldly minded John surveyed their work with evi- dent satisfaction. I tell you he ' s a dandy, he exclaimed. How did you get him?

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12 The Ajnuial of AN A. F. S. GLRL TO THE M. B. S. GIRIvS, GREETING. The interest which you M. B. S. girls of ' 97, are likely to take in the effusions of a back number A. F. S girl of ' 91, is rather like what the people of modern days would feel, if the Sphinx — that discreet lady of the Nile were ever to open her long closed lips and begin to discourse upon the family affairs of the Pharaohs. Nevertheless, despite the vast chasm of six years, time which yawns between us, we are all ' ' Miss Baldivin ' s girls, ' ' ' ' and that is a bridge on which we can meet, old girls, new girls, M. B. S. girls and A. F. S. girls — not only now, but in all the years to come. That is a fact of which we are all proud, and the older we get, the prouder we grow, for we see in the after lives of Miss Baldwin ' s girls, the effects of the fine, strong, beautiful influence for good, which she throws around us all. Although the old name and the magic initials A. F. S. were very dear to us of ninety-one and before that, yet we are glad of that change which perpetuates the name of the woman who not only founded one of the finest schools in the south, but whose whole life has been a Messing to all with whom she has been thrown in contact. Love and reverence for Miss Bald- win have grown to be a part of the life of thousands of young women all over the country, and we form a sisterhood into which we are very glad to admit you girls of ' 96, and ' 97. Since the thoughts of every old girl naturally turn Staun- ton-ward, as commencement . ' eason approaches, the advent of The Alumnae Record was particularly seasonable, with its attractive accounts of the two meetings of the association, its bright, newsy two minute talks and clever poems of the full graduates, and its enticing suggestion of a grand reunion of all Miss Baldwin ' s Girls at the Tennessee Centennial in June. It would be very delightful if we girls of ninety -one could meet you of ninety-seven and talk things over. We should want to hear from you all about the changes which must have