Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

Page 28 text:

ah, we shall still know her when these amber mists have rolled away and disclose life ' s broader path. Janie, says my monitor, is a synonym for sunshine, and like Spencer ' s virtue, ... gives herself light, through darkness for to wade. Her future is written to-day in her happy face, and, he who runs may read. Mabel! comes to me in a soft whisper, as my eyes next rest on a dreamy face. Oh ! Mabel is to be our poet in the very true sense of the word ; there are poets who have never written poetry. Hers is to be a life, Darkened by shadows of earth But refle(5ling an image of heaven. But three more faces catch my attention. The first, Cecilia. And what is the prophecy ? a belle ? We could have guessed it ! Yes, those wide dark eyes and that supple grace will charm society, as the M. B. S. sends forth another lovely Southern belle. And Willa? Soon she will swell the ranks of our alumnse brides. Mattie will study art in the city, then hope points to a time when she will come back to grace our studio, and be an inspiration to younger painters at Baldwin ' s. Music, — the strains recall me ; three other fair maidens go forth from us to-day. Cameron and Creel. Something tells me that their ways will not divide, their ways of life, I mean. What they have practiced here (many things besides scales), will go with them into maturer years. And may those years be filled with sweet music, and none of discord. A pause, — and I can not write of all the future holds for Lola. This musician has made her mark in our little college sphere, and she goes forth to send her melody into the larger world, and to add a sweeter note to the universal harmony.

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Shadows of Coming Events. PROPHET, the last of those lonely ones of earth, stood gaunt upon the height, and caught glimpses of the years that stretch away beyond the mountains. ' Twas the sunset of life gave him mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. Then the sunset of earth drew the shadow cur- tains from those distant peaks. Vision sought their gilded tops and lingered. The brightness dazzled, and the shining summits seemed blend- ed in a golden path; a soul crossed it with the sunlight, and the mountain knew the prophet no more. That was in the olden days. We climb perhaps to the same height, but we are practical and near-sighted. We see a mist where the moun- tains should be, and we see clearly only the valley before us. This escaped the prophet in his further range of vision, yet we do not doubt our reality, and we believe that our valley is one of the great ones, and that it holds its proper place in the record of fleeting time. One scene in this valley on which many hearts are fixed, and the sunshine smiles, is the spot where the green hills fold the M. B. S. Yes, this is a valley of material things, but on this May morning, who will deny that the very spirit of prophesy broods in the yellow and white mists circling our Alma Mater? The air is full of it, it enters through the chapel windows with the breeze, and in the hush, while the audience is intent upon the program, I listen to the spirit that breathes from the dreamy air. A mystical number rises before me, and a glance toward the rostrum shows the nine girl graduates. As I listen, the spirit will not tell me all about Mary, her life secrets are hidden from those who know her and love her best. But the spirit whispers, She will be a blessing. And though two are met in after years, one is yet our Mary;

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Yes, this is a material age, but the spirit has shown me the mystical number nine — a perfect number, the work of the M. B. S. . . In my dream I stood on the mountain Where the prophet ' s feet had prest, I shared in his great revelation Of the golden-tinted West. The peaks all shone in the distance ; I wondered, but now I know, Those tops seemed bright to the prophet For the background valleys below. Cornelia Morgan.