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Page 47 text:
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water. She deftly slips her arm beneath his head, and. as she does this, I find myself looking deep into the brave, bright eyes of our vice-president. Rose Bloxom. From a small studio, plainly but artistically furnished, comes the most ex- quisite tones of music. l see a woman bending over the keys, whose expression is one of rapt devotion to her art. She seems utterly unconscious of her sur- roundings. Piles of unfinished music lie on the desk. She has already won fame as a composer, but this will be the song of her soul. Finally, the last bar is played, with a sigh she turns. It is Margaret James. The winter sunshine streams into a sitting-roo1n. The place has an air of tranquility and comfort, the furniture is for comfort and the open hre throws a cheerful glow over the occupants of the room. An old gentleman is reclining in one of the low chairs and on a stool at his feet a slender, golden-haired-woman sits reading aloud to him. The sunlight kisses her bright hair, making a halo around her raised face. It was Jessie Jarvis. She is staying at home, -making her parents' lives happy with the richness and fullness of her love. I see a big, old-fashioned house standing back from the road. A buggy drives up and from it steps a tall woman. just as she reaches the front steps the door is opened and I hear a familiar voice, So you're back, Sallie, come on in, supper is just on the tablef' . - A Soon as I wash my hands, Nell? A It was Sallie Adams and Nell Livesay, who have realized their dream of keeping bachelors hall together. - , In the spray a picture of rare tropical beauty grows. It seems a plantation on one of theafar southern islands. The roomy frame house is surrounded by rows of orange trees. The air is heavy with the scent of the blossoms, and among the foliage the oranges gleam like balls of fire. Two l'13.1U1l1OCkS are swung under the trees and in them are two ladies, reading and sipping from tall glasses some cool drink. The faces come into better view and I see Mamie Addison and Merle Vlfesterman. After teaching for a few years, they bought a planta- tion and are now thoroughly enjoying a life of ease. A fair-haired woman is bending over a desk littered with books and maga- zines, busily writing. I know at once it is Bernie Bruce. I-Ier stories are talked of all-over America. On her desk is a book of poems, the author's name seems familiar even at a distance, as I look closer I see f'Lena Winn. An article in one of the magazines speaks of her as one of the cleverest and most original poets of the day. j . - . ' In a large room, lined with rows and rows of books, I see 1nany people. Some are seated at the tables reading and some are strolling about. Plainly itis a library. I glance casually at the desk and am surprised and pleased to find in the librarian an old schoolmate, Hazel Cole. ' 43
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Page 46 text:
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Senior Class Prophecy , . even I the unworthy, had been elected prophet of the class of IQI3. In order to predict their futures, I traveled to all countries and dipped into magic and science, but all in vain. At last tired and despondent, I took a walk in a cool, green forest. I walked slowly along, my head bent low in deep thought when suddenly a marvelously sweet voice broke upon the still- ness 2' Follow the white dove and your search shall be ended. A snowy bird Huttered from the trees and flew before me. It led me on and on till Hnally the forest stopped abruptly and I found myself in a wonderful garden. The air was permeated with an exquisite perfume, under my feet was spread a carpet of violetsg' 'among the trees, whose leaves glistened like jewels, were birds of brilliant plumage. In the centre of the garden was a fountain with diamond-like spray. As I approached it, a beautiful girl with gleaming, flowing hair handed. me a golden 'goblet filled with an amber-colored Huid, saying: This is the water of the magic fountain, drink, and in the spray you will see pictured the future of your classmates. ' V ,As the wine spread through my veins, my brain seemed cleared of all im- perfections, my senses were sharpened instead of deadened. I . I looked into the spray and saw vague shapes which gradually cleared and formed into a large building, surrounded by wide lawns. On the campus, in groups, are many girls. A group of older women are leisurely passing up and down thewalks. In the centre of this group is a strangely familiar figure. Something in the small stature and sweet face remind me of my- college days. She turns toward one of the groups and I recognize our beloved president, Lautina VVilliams. I gather from her air of ownership that she has been made president of the New VVoman's College. I now see the ladies with her more clearly. One is Mary Currin, who is teaching Latin, another is Louise Tillman who has been awarded the chair of Philosophy, and the third is Alice Hatcher, who is Professor of Mathematics. From their bright faces, I know that they are happy in their chosen occupations. . The college fades and the white walls of a hospital come in its place. Among the rows of tiny cots a blue-uniformed nurse is slowly moving. At each cot she stops to rearrange the sick one's pillows and give the sufferer some word of cheer. As she .moves on, the patient's eyes follow her and for a moment the pain is forgotten. As she reaches the last cot' the fever-parched lips of a boy beg for . 42 7 A Y Y Y YA ,A ceasxii- f-------i-aiA --V-A-f+--H ---mv-'Win
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Page 48 text:
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A group of tiny tots are eagerly talking together. .Elach has some offering for teacher and they seem vieing with each other in praising her. .Atthe corner they see her and run gaily forward to present their gifts. Arms clinging around her waist, they go to the door of the schoolroom. It is the c1ty's most popular kindergarten, and Fannie Cook is the beloved teacher. The next scene is the sun-parlor of a noted southern sanatorium. A nurse is laughingly lecturing one of the patients. They seem on very good terms, and I was not surprised at this when I found the nurse was Ethel Stephenson and the patient Bessie Straus, the great philanthropist and society woman, .who had come here to rest up after a strenuous winter. I hear the sound of bells calling people to morning worship. A line of happy-faced native girls are entering the doors of the little mission. There is such a strong feeling of good will, peaceand love that I wonder who the teachers can be, for one can plainly tell they are of that scarce class' of women whose lives are a daily sacrifice and blessing. Wli-ern the prayer is over and they rise to, sing, I see the two missionaries of my class are Evelyn Iustis and Lena Hatcher. I t is recess and a swarm of ruddy-faced children are playing games and fighting. Two teachers are standing watching them and rebuking the com- batants. They are Lillie Quarles and Helen I-Iepburn, the inseparables. A little girl is laboriously bending over a piano and in a chair by her a dark- haired woman is keeping time. Presently the lesson ends and teacher and pupil rise. It is Jeanette Jones, who is a very successful music teacher. e steady click of many typewriters issuesfrom The busy hum of voices- and th a suite of rooms in a tall office building. There is an air of success about the place and in the. way the lady at the large desk behind the glass doors is giving comm'ands. She rises, puts on her hat, and hurriedly goes out. It is Mae Johnson, who has become a very successful business woman. Cn a lower Hoor of this building I read on one of the doors, Mabel Winn, attorney-at-law. I look inpand see that she, too, in the outer ofhce to see her. looks very prosperous, for a row of clients are waiting A group of people are standing before a painting in a gallery in France. They are discussing the ' ' amtinff some raising some blamin after the manner 6? 63 of people. I see that it has won a medal. W'hat is my surprise and joy when I see the' name of the artist, Margaret Mathews. I see a rather forbidding-looking house, but from it comes peals of childish laughter. As the picture becomes clearer, I see that it is an orphan asylum. The children's faces are bright and happy, they seem almost as comfortable as if' they were in homes of their own with loving parents. A young woman comes acr th l ' ' ' ' ' oss e awn with a child of five in her arms, a little cripple. Gently she places him in an invalid chair, beneath a shady tree. Her face has been hidden 44 A - --,,-Q
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