Memphis State University - DeSoto Yearbook (Memphis, TN)

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Coral tinted clouds, set in an ocean of blue, hung low over dear old Normal. Their nearness gave an ethereal glow that transformed my little world into a mystic realm of dreams. I saw dim shadows of spacious dormitories loom up in the distance. Soft strains of music floated through my window upon per- fumed breezes, and at my feet, softly dropped from dream cloud, was a bunch of rich red roses. Ah ! What memories their loveliness enfolds. Holding them gently in my arms, I buried my face in their soft petals and was en- chanted with a message from another world. The breezes whispered, each rose a prayer that the years promised to answer. The first red rose I slowly untwined from the others, almost afraid of the phantoms it was to reveal, softly and oh ! so gently I fondled its petals, fearing, yet longing to find the heart of this perfect rose. In a spell, I gazed at the flower and saw the years unfold before me. I trembled with deliffht and held tightly to my rose. My familiar room slowly vanished and I was left among my flowers. In an enchanted moment I saw before me in my dream cloud, a fairy surrounded by roses. Wonderingly, I heard the fairy speak to me and invite me to her bower. Soon I recognized the fairy who held the destinies of my classmates in her roses, and she told me that in the hearts of these beautiful blossoms I might call ten years from out the future and see the Class of 1917. Selecting a tiny bud from the garland she held, I beheld it open and re- ceive me into the future. I found myself in a large city. The noise and strange scenes at first bewildered me. Not knowing where I was, I eagerly scanned the faces of the hurrying crowd. A taxi rolled up and stopped beside me. Its only occupant was a well-dressed individual who even in his tall silk hat, accompanied by a cane, looked familial - . Ah! Yes, it was Mr. C. S. Austin of the 1917 Class of the W. T. S. X. I heard him say, ' Must a minute driver, looking absently at his watch, ' ' I must take my seat in the Senate in ten min- utes. I was in the capital city. The taxi passed on with our prominent senator from Tennessee. Hearing a chuckle near me, I turned to see the outstretched hand of Walter Richardson. He told me he had just established an information Bureau in the White House and was giving much help to the ladies. Being one of them, I enlisted his services and we started out to see the city. Our conversa- tion turned to the Class of 1917, and I found tiiat he had been keeping up with our class president. In fact that was why he was in Washington. He told me that Miss Newland was interested in the feeble-minded and was making talks in Parent-Teachers ' Associations on how to train them. Being tired from so much excitement, we decided to visit our capitol and hear some of the speakers of the day. Whom should we see but George Sim- mons defending a bill that would allow a man to marry as many times as he pleased. I did not wish to hear more on this weighty question, and bade Mr. Richardson goodby. 22

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power and prosperity. She stands upright, full statured and equal among people of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking out upon the expanded horizon ; she understands that her emancipation of ignorance will come only through the inscrutable wisdom of God and her educational institutions, and has made provisions for the development of these wonderful factories. The responsibility is our heritage. What shall we do? Mav the words of Ella Wheeler Wilcox ever serve as our guide and standard, as it has done in the past: ' ' Tis easy enough to be pleasant When life Hows along like a song : But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praise of the earth Is the smile that comes through tears. It is easy enough to be prudent When nothing tempts you to stray ; When without or within no voice of sin Is luring 3 ' our soul away. But it ' s only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honor of earth Is the one that resists desire. By the cynic, the sad, the fallen. Who had no strength for the strife, The world ' s highway is encumbered today ; They make up the item of life. But the virtue that conquers passion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile — It is these that are worth the homage of earth, . For we find them once in a while. 21

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I then found myself in San Francisco. My little fairy was watching over me. Wishing to get out of the crowd, I purchased a paper and sought a quiet spot. In glancing through the paper, I found that two girls had started out to walk to Nashville. I was very much surprised to see that they were no other than Nell Scott and Allene Walker. They expected to arrive in Nash- ville in time to tear one of the state ' s best lawyers, Mr. Keaton, defend Mr. Branson, whom Miss Clara Mai Johnson was suing for breach of promise. In the same paper, I saw where the champion heavyweight, Mr. Clyde White, had succeeded in knocking out the lightweight prize fighter in the first round. Much credit was due his manager, Mr. Frank Smith, who had excellent training in the bouts at the the Prescott Flats. Martha Crawford had come all the way from Memphis to say, You great big hero. Knowing that I was desirous of seeing the rest of my class, my fairy placed me in another continent. I saw a gentleman near me and wishing to be friendly, I spoke and was encouraged by a nod. I proceeded to tell one of the latest Normal School jokes. Seeing the utter non-comprehension in my friend ' s countenance, I realized at once that I was in England. Everywhere was noise and confusion. Very soon I discovered the cause. Two American women had joined Enland ' s aviation corps and were just getting ready to make a flight. 1 hurried on with the crowd and to my unlimited amazement, I beheld Ethel Kabakoff, just as excited as ever, hurrying meek little Julia Kaiser into the waiting machine. Ah ! How like those days at Normal. Turning my steps toward the heart of the city, I had the good fortune to run across Katherine Ingram. She told me that she intended to go to the Hawaiian Islands to increase her large repertoire of songs on the Ukalele. I remembered the enthusiasm with which the chapel goers greeted her first ap- pearance at Normal and I predicted a brilliant future for her. She had been out to the very pretty home of Martha Parks, who was doing magazine work in London. The long hours and midnight she consumed in poring over the Columns at Normal assured her success. While in this work, she had a chance to keep up with some of our world-renowned classmates. I asked about the silver-tongued orator of the South, Mr. Ernest Ball, and was delighted to hear that he was minister to France and had much toward gaining the peace that followed the world-wide war. But I was anxious to get back to the homeland. My fairy next placed me in New York. In this great metropolis I was destined to see many great things. The first person I ran across was Clifton Parrott. He had left off teaching years ago to become president of the National Bank in Memphis and was only in New York for a convention. He had a New York Times with him and we looked at the productions of the best cartoonist in the world. I was not surprised to find that she was none other than Grace Lowenhaupt, who had helped to make our College Annual such a success. While I was talking over old times with Mr. Parrott, we stopped in one of the big opera houses. We were to hear one of the greatest opera singers in the world. I was thrilled to the point of tears when our Little Sergeant stepped before the footlights. Was it my presence that made her change her