Northwestern State University - Potpourri Yearbook (Natchitoches, LA)

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Jfacultp V. L. ROY President H. H. RYAN Training Teacher GEORGE WILLIAMSON Biology, Agriculture LIZZIE CARTER McVOY English JOHN C. SOUTH Latin, Writing R. W. WINSTEAD Latin L. A. DAVIS Physics, Chemistry ROBERTA NEWELL Education W. H. STOPHER Singing A. M. HOPPER Manual Training R. E. BOBBITT Mathematics P. T. HEDGES Mathematics and Science HELENA MESSERSCHMIDT Education DEAN E. VARNADO English, History JESSIE BOWDEN Education MABEL MOORE English LILLIAN D ' ERY French MAY PHILLIPS Drawing ISABEL WILLIAMSON Drawing EVA MORRIS Voice Dr. C. G. POOLE Science, Men ' s Athletics MILDRED GLENDON Domestic Science ANNA MAUD VAN HOOSE Piano MARIE LOUISE DICKERSON Piano ETHEL KENNEDY Violin, Piano SCHARLIE RUSSELL Librarian J. W. BATEMAN Agriculture C. J. BROWN Rural School Pedagogy F. S. MERRIMAN Dairying BESSIE V. RUSSELL Critic Teacher, First Grade JEMMIE NELSON Critic Teacher, Second Grade ALICIA DICKSON Critic Teacher, Third Grade BESS A. GRAHAM Critic Teacher, Fourth Grade CARMEN BREAZEALE Critic Teacher, Fifth Grade EDNA LEVY Critic Teacher, Sixth Grade AUGUSTA NELKEN Critic Teacher, Seventh Grade G. E. GUARDIA Critic Teacher, Eighth and Ninth Grades AMELIA GAULDEN Critic Teacher, Tenth and Eleventh Grades Mrs. HENRY HAWKINS Matron LILLIE M. KEANE Graduate Nurse Mrs. M. V. WILDERSON Secretary J. C. MONROE Cashier LEVEN L. McCOOK Registrar ROBIN L. SMITH Engineer W. T. ROW Watchman 21

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Night and day and day and night They walked their holy way, Training the young lives about them Jesus ' precepts to obey. All the time they never wavered In their teachings of His love, Till their tired, worn souls left them, For a resting-place above. Still, they say, the nuns do linger, Walking forth in bright moonlight; Without ceasing do they pace here, Praying always for the right. Sometimes, when the night is peaceful, Stillness reigns, and all is bright, We may see a sweet nun praying Ere she silently takes flight. 20

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g i)abotog of tfje $agt (HE SUN is behind the pines and the sifted gold of his last rays mingles in the dusky halls with the music that pervades the building. Who does not know the dreamy charm of that enchanted hour on the Hill? when pianos, violins, and horns are pouring fourth their wealth of golden-voiced melody — when the mind goes softly back into the past or soars falcon-winged into the future — the enchanted hour between the bells that shatter our aesthetic dreams. High up in the building a boy draws his bow across the strings of his violin one last time, and as the sweet, clear notes quiver into silence the musician, with his eye on the growing evening shades, drifts gently back into the dimly illumined past of the memory-haunted Hill. Back, back he v.: 7i goes by the beautif ul mystic dream-road, until out of the h 3t f shadows there grows a majestic figure. Arrow-straight, cop- iw. iLj per-hued, supple as a willow wand, and dignified with all the dignity of Nature, he stands, with eagle feathers gleaming in his raven hair and eyes like coals burning among the streaks ofwar-paint upon his proud countenance. A moment, and he is gone. After him there comes, with swarthy cheek and flowing periwig, treading lightly, with sheathed sword and swinging arms cased in soft brocade, a mannered cour- tier. He is but softly clad and gaily, yet the war-fire lives in the face that smiles above the fleur-de-lis that shows upon his breast. He goes, followed by a figure, gaily attired, who saunters after him, with heavy boots, glittering breastplate, and beneath his arm a harp that sang its first clear note in sunny Spain. He bows gaily — a model cavalier — and strolls away with jaunty air. And then, with stately tread, and nobly gentle face, comes the Southern gentleman. The dignity of culture is here, one with the primitive dignity of the Image. His lips are made to command, his brows to fight, his eyes for laughter and for love. The shadows fold about his noble figure, and from their depths, slowly, with down-cast eyes and sombre black robes, there comes a nun, awful in her consecrated virginity. White and pure burns the light of her holy sacrifice upon her humble brow. She passes, like a soft, dark shadow of mysterious holiness, into the gray shadows about her. . . . There is a gay flash of purple and white. A laughing girl, merry and wholesome as a south wind, yet with the solemn sense of the noble vocation before her, stands a moment, brightening the shadows ; she pauses an instant, then flits away at the ringing of the bell. 22