Rawlings Institute - Hits and Bits Yearbook (Charlottesville, VA)

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from them as by a cyclone? Mr. Hart left the school and opened a smaller one in Staunton. Mr. Rawlings and M1'. Dickinson became principals at different times, and with great odds against them, resurrected the institution and did valuable work. IN cor.. rnvronts oI.D norm.. The old Monticello with its grey exterior, and its long dark corridors, had rather a prison-like appearance, but within it was instinct with lite. It had many windows behind which the girls would peer into the streets below when home-sickness overtook them. And then the old dining room over which the tall Black Ben presided ! No knight was ever courtlier than he. He rang that bell as if hc thought it would resound down the corridors ot' time. One ot' the most attractive places in the house was the room of the Art teacher in the farthest end of the annex. The walls XVCl'C literally covered with pictures, and a cheery welcome awaited those who called. The name of' the teacher was Mrs. Emily C. Grubb, who lives at present in Norfolk with her son, who was a little boy then. She was English, had come over in a sailing vessel when a girl, and had been a governess in Gen. Lee' s family. She speaks lovingly ot' her life at the old Albemarle Institute. The second year ot' my course, '60-'61, the rude alarms ot' war sounded the call to arms. There was much excitement in the town, troops passing to and fro on the train. And when there was to be speaking by distinguished speakers, the classes were dismissed to allow us to go. It was difficult to keep the school together. A few went home. A Miss Alden, teacher from New England, said to be of' the John Alden family, went home and was never heard from at sehool again. OUTLOOK I-'OR THE FUTUIQE. Not being familiar with this period, others must write the his- tory ot' it. The Baptists appreciate the gift made by Mr. Raw- lings, which made it possible for the school to live again on a per- manent basis. NVould that his example might incite others ! And to Dr. Tribble, the present able principal, too much praise cannot be given for his self-sacrificing labor for the school. In throwing himself into the breach he has saved a plant that is capable of g1'eat possibilities. One thing that commends this school, is, that it does not pretend to be what it is not. So many of' the colleges of the South would do better if they were called institutes. It does better work really than it claims to do. Happy for situation, too, is this Rawlings Institute. I-Iere ill the town that was the first to be called the Athens ot'Americag to be so near a great University-under its very eaves, where one can catch the inspiration that comes from a community of' students working on the hidden secrets of science and philosophy, is a rare privilege. It is an education to know and appreciate that wonderful work ri of' art, lhe School of Athens, the conception of Raphael, at whose shrine all artists bow. IVell do I remember the first time I saw and studied it. I don't think I was moved any more when in later years I looked on the originals in their home in the old country. That first look opened a new world and made me long for another. GREETINGS. Alumnae ofthe old Albemarle Institute: I greet you wherever you are. Nearly four decades have passed, and our hair is silveringg but I've no doubt your hearts beat as loyal to-day as when you received your degree. ' Alumnae of the Rawlings : I greet you as sisters-half'-sisters--it may be, but as children ot' a common mother. Let us join hands and hearts and seek to uphold the interests ot' the institution that has given us our honors. To the youngest ot' the Alumnae, the class ot' 1902-eongratm lations! QIHNNIE SNEAD HATCHER.

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THE PRICE OF AN INSPIRATIO . HIC studio of dull background of' olive green threw into bold relief' the casts and statuettes, and harmonized with the touches of' color in the water colors hanging on the wall. A. sofa in one corner, piled high with cushions, suggested ease and repose. Under the skylight., upon an easel, rested an unfinished picture. WVere it not for the easel and the living model, one would have thought it the room of' a collector ot' pictures and brie-a-brac rather than thc atclier ot' an artist. A young girl, who sits before the easel, after working awhile 1'ather dispiritcdly, lays her brushes aside, and compares with critical glances her picture and the model. ff It is not worth while t1'ying. I canit get the expression. All my faces look like wooden masks. And I have worked so hard I Oh, fbr the power to transfer to my canvas that subtly haunting expression ot' the model ! If' for once I might succeed in painting a real living fiace I would be content, though forever after I toiled in vain ll' Surely a diliicult subject the young artist has chosen-- Love's Despair -yet the face of' the model eould suggest no other title. Despair, deep, bitter, unavailing despair, was written in lines that could not be mistaken upon that pale face and spoke mournfully out ofthe sad eyes. The face had appealed to her artistic nature so strongly that she had engaged her as a model. She had suc- ceeded in getting the same outlines, the same features, but the soul ot' the fi1ee,the expression, was wanting. No word of' despair looked out of' the face upon the canvas, no pathetic drooping of the mouth which tells the folly of' tears. She had but the casket, the jewel was not there. A step sounded in the hall outside. Her face brightened. She took up her brushes again just as the door opened and her pro- fessor entered. A, handsome man he was, with the cold, passion- less face of' an artist. . His quick glance took in the model and the canvas. H A diflicult. subject you have chosen, Mademoiselle wifes!-ee pcm! WVhat success are you having with that most profound luunan emotion, lc dcsespoir dc Pmnozn' Y I-Iis pupil shrugged her shoulders. I am discouraged, Monsieur. I cannot paint the human soul. My canvas shows you that. And I have worked so hard l U Patience, Mademoiselle. All is not learned in a day. Your technique is good, your drawing accurate, the color lifelike. But, as you say, there is no soul looking out of' the eyes. Where is that expression of wicked tears so plainly written on the face of' the model ? Mademoiselle, he said earnestly, if only the inspi- ration that czln read and paint a lnunan soul could be awakened in you, you would be the greatest painter of your age. You have not yet that Heaven-sent gift. But do not be discouraged, Made- moiselle. It may come later. Persevering work is the keynote of' art. I donit think my lack of' inspiration is due to lack of' work.