Pennsylvania School of Horticulture for Women - Wise Acres Yearbook (Ambler, PA)

Page 16 text:

tEcn 3faUg juniors Tune: Ten Little Niggers. Ten jolly juniors, ain't the class just fine, One fair maicl had a faint heart, and so-o we are nine. Nine jolly juniors on time just one came late; In fact she never came at all, therefore we are eight. Eight jolly juniors find gardening just like heaven One was lonely, off she went, so now we’re seven. Seven jolly juniors up to all sorts of tricks Sad to say one hurt her hip, leaving but six. Six jolly juniors apparently alive If one got chewed up by her dog. we'd be but five. Five jolly juniors all the boys adore ; One eloped with her Valentine, that's why we're four. Four jolly juniors ready for a spree One bumped her little nose, it bled, now we are three. Three jolly juniors with appetites for stew. Ice cream for supper, that left but two. Two jolly juniors with chocolate, nut and bun, Locked the door on eats galore, now we’re but one. One jolly junior found solitude no fun Answer at roll call, ‘‘None, none, none.’’ No jolly juniors life's a blank and bore Let's call them back again, yes, ENCORE. Tune: Ten Little Indians. One jolly, two jolly, three jolly juniors, Four jolly, five jolly, six jolly juniors, Seven jolly, eight jollv, nine jolly juniors, Ten Jolly Juniors all. 12 Mary Jane.

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Py ilje tUErracc in darken All the long golden summer afternoons as 1 gardened in the narrow stretch of border ground by the terrace, I watched the littie mud wasp at work upon her home. Back and forth she flew, bearing each time the minutest bit of clay to add to the structure of her dwelling What industry, what mother instinct she displayed as bit by bit she shaped the little cone-like form which was to hold the myriad, clustered cells. And then, when the cells were all perfected, she would venture forth to capture and paralyze with her swift sting the prey whereon would be laid the precious eggs. Each time as she returned, and, hovering about the spot, at length alighted and crawled up into the interior, still cool and moist with the dampness of the clay, I could hear her busy workings as with saw»-hke sounds she firmly pressed and shaped the clay. Day by day I watched her as she passed me, her wings darting their iridescence of blue and black and gold in the sunlight—until one afternoon she failed to come. All the countryside lay wrapped in hazy sunshine and the breezes moved lovingly among the branches and waved in sweet rhythm the flowers at my feet, and in all peace and beauty, 1 missed the busy sounds and bright darting of the little mud wasp. The half-formed cone was dry and baked in the heat of the noon day and no little builder came to finish out the form. And at my work I mused and wondered what had kept her. Then that evening, as 1 walked along the country roadside, I passed a little stream and there as I crossed it I found in a deep hollow in the mud made by the press of a heavy foot, the poor crushed body of a little mud wasp. I stooped and took it in my palm. Ah! could it be that it was the little builder by my terrace? All the glossy beauty of the wings was smeared and crumpled and the little body had lain there hurt and mangled where she had so busily been gathering the plaster for her home. My poor little mud wasp, all your hopes and labors cherished by your instinct, dulled forever! And still the dried half-finished structure hangs upon the terrace bv my garden waiting for the builder to return. ' ‘ L. E. C. 11

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‘(Dje Jlalcntine |3artu The Faculty gave the students a most wonderful Valentine Party on Thursday evening, February 14. From the clever heart-shaped invitations to the jolly red cupids which graced the assembly room wall, the whole affair was one series of enjoyable surprises. The Seniors were bidden to appear as “stalwart swains in “trousers bold to meet the Juniors as “maidens fair’’ in ‘‘gay attire. The many curiously-shaped and sized packages which arrived, or in some cases failed to arrive during the previous week, attested to the scouring of the country for appropriate attire. From four o’clock on Thursday until the magic hour arrived, the cottage and dormitory were humming with preparations, and when the maidens fair arrived it surely was a “motley crew which greeted them. Buster Brown in socks and curls hobnobbed with Louis the Fourteenth; Kate Green way’s little brother was hiding behind two jolly Jack Tars; and the Music Master was sitting stately and tall between two jolly farmer boys; French gentleman of rather doubtful character was gesticulating to another chubby, dimple-kneed Buster Brown; in the background was a tall lithe jester in white cap and painted face, alongside a fair shepherd boy. The “maidens fair were lovely in “gay attire and soon the “stalwart swains had each found him a partner and were most gallantly entertaining each “his ladye faire.” The Faculty had planned a most unique programme which moved as smoothly as it always does under the able guidance of “the Stage Manager,” who, despite a serious handicap, planned and executed the whole thing with fine skill and ability. The programme started with a Grand Opera number entitled “Ten Jolly juniors.” This was a doleful ditty sung by the ten who disappeared one by one and when encored only kicked up their giddy heels and refused to return. The arrival of the mail was most exciting— each one receiving a valentine and likewise still another each, from one of the “maidens fair” who, attired as a Valentine Lady, dispensed her favors to each and all. This was followed by a most dreadful tragedy, called “the King of Siam.” lie proved to be a real high-stepper, but a most awful parent, who killed off every one in the play except the stage manager and the prompter. Even the lovely white-limbed shepherd boy met his sad fate at the king’s hands. Nothing was concealed! This was followed by a delightful melodrama—“Mary Jane and Benjamin, which had a truly out-of-door flavor of the fields and meadows, with singing birds and sleek cattle, and bright sunshine. This proved to be a near tragedy, but was relieved from its deep sadness by a happy ending; despite one’s feelings for poor Sir Mortimer, the spurned 13