Salem State University - Clipper Yearbook

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were 44 the inseparablesf' Rosalind and Joyce. Every few moments one of them would stoop, pick up something from the ground and put it in the basket. 44 What are you girls doing? I asked. My question startled them, for they had not noticed our ap- proach. A broad smile overspread Rosalind's face, but before she had time to answer, Joyce, peering over her glasses, asked, 44 What's that? O, yes, we're collecting speci- mens g we're assistants in the zoological and botanical department at the Salem Normal School now. We sat down together on the grass for a few moments to indulge in reminiscence. Suddenly Joyce exclaimed, '4 Say, girls, have you heard about Marion Hamilton? She has a first grade down in Skihuble, Maine. You know Mary Dowl- ing is the principal of the largest school down there and through her help Marion has, I guess, secured a permanent position. 44 Marion in Skihuble! That's pretty good! But it's not at all strange to have May come to her aid, for May always was Marion's last resource when they were at Normal. Good-by, girls! We must be off for it is already getting late. So glad to have met you! As we sauntered along we came to a little white cottage at the end of the path, called the 44 Manchester. In front of it was a delightful little pool of water. Around the edge, sown eight inches apart in rows in the clayey soil which evidently had a large capacity for holding water, were hundreds of minute clam shells. There in the center of the beach thus formed, with sea-shore pail and shovel, was a forlorn figure. 44 Why, Theresa, what are you doing here? Are you married yet? 'l Toss- ing her head, she replied indignantly in her old-time phrase, 44H'm, I could be if I wanted toll Since she seemed to have abundant leisure, we stopped to inquire about some of our old friends. 44 Do you know what Fannie YVelch is doing now ? 44 Fan- nie Welch? H7IH! The last I knew of her she was at the head of the lately estab- lished monotone society, furthering that new brand of tone that she demonstrated so dramatically in the history class in Normal. Don't you remember ? 44 Oh, yes l we sang in chorus. 44 Say, girls, have you heard the latest love song? No? Why! Elizabeth Merrill composed it. It goes like this, 44 Carroll, O my Carroll. We should have liked to hear the rest, but just then we were attracted by the shrill whistle of a passing freight train. A crowd seemed to be gathering along the track, so from 44 in- stinct and 44 by reflex action, we hurried to join them. Vigorously waving a red flag on the top of the rear car stood Lydia Anderson. Now what do you think of that? When Lydia caught sight of us she Hourished her flag in the air and shouted: 44Hi ! The train passed on and we followed the crowd up the busy street. Evidently they were all going to the same place, for they walked on in the same direction and soon turned in at the entrance to a large brick building. VVe followed. Just inside the door there was a huge poster which read: Lecture on Subjective Spiritualism by Miss Juliette Ryan, Ph. D., D. D., S. B. Since We were not in a philosophical frame of mind, we decided not to enter but to wait until the lecturer should pass by. We were rewarded in a few moments, for Juliette, heavily laden with degrees, came tripping sedately along. Close at her heels 23

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by the appearance of Abbie Croscup, fussing and fuming as usual. ff Millie, whatever shall I write in this thesis on the geographical significance of streets? I'm sure I don't know, and it must go in to the editor by Tuesday. Assuring Abbie that we hoped her thesis would get in all right, we thought it best to 4' get out. We had not gone far when our attention was attracted by a large sign, LOCKE THEATRE. In the hope of escaping for a few moments from the strange encounters we had experienced, we entered the theatre. Just inside the door we met Helen who cordially greeted us. She informed us that she was the proprietor and at once signed two com- plimentaries which admitted us. We offered them to the lady in uniform who ex- claimed, 4' Complimentaries, row 683, class F, tier I, slot 2fbj. H She must be a most orderly and particular individualf' I said. ff Does she remind you of anyone? asked my companion. VVhy, yes, Mildred Wetmore was always just like that. As we took a second glance, great was our astonishment to find that it really was she. Mil- dred was so busy that we thought it unwise to trouble her, so we went directly to our seats in the orchestra. The house filled rapidly until only one seat remained vacant. Our curiosity was excited, for it was the seat just beside us. The first announce- ment appeared. Imagine our surprise when we read, The Dancing Wonder, Mme. De Carleton. The curtain rose. Then for a few moments, transported with delight, we followed the maddening whirl of the dancer as she flitted over the stage and finally disappeared. As the curtain dropped, Miss Locke mounted the stage and made the following announcement, 'f I take pleasure in presenting Marion Remon, the great- est, funniest comedian of the day. This is positively her last appearance in public, as she intends to retire immediately into private life so that she may have more time for -sleep. Amid tremendous applause the curtain rose. As we turned to see how heartily the rest of the house was applauding, we saw a figure strolling, with calm, serene face, leisurely in manner, down the aisle. She was the very counterpart of Innocence. She seated herself beside us. My companion nudged my elbow and whispered, ff That's Florence Davidson. lVe learned from her that she had inherited a large fortune and was therefore spending her days in the enjoyment of life. After the performance was over we left the heiress to saunter out at her leisure, while we made haste to escape from the crowd into the street. For a few moments we walked along in silence, when all at once we heard the drone of a bagpipe and who should pass hy hut Annie McCabe, doing her old stunt, the barn-dance. We watched her until.she had disappeared from sight and then continued our journey. From one side of the street a little path led across a stretch of meadow land. The cool, green grass and shady trees looked so inviting that we decided to leave the main thoronglifaro and follow the footpath. We had not gone far when in the distance, be- hind a clump of trees, we saw two tigures wandering along together. They seemed to have their eyes fastened on the ground and each was carrying a huge basket on her arm. There was something ahout them which was strikingly familiar, although we 1-onld not see their faces. As we came closer to them, however, we discovered that they 22

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came the ff modern Boswell, Melissa Chase. Every few moments the latter drew from her handbag a small book and jotted down notes or observations. All signs seemed to indicate that a biography of J. Ryan would soon appear. Om' curiosity now satisfied, we passed on up the street. A few blocks away we stopped to gaze in a window in which were exhibited some excellent specimens of wood carving. While so engaged, we heard someone tap on the window from inside. We looked up and there was Mil- dred Merrill. We could hardly believe our eyes until we looked up at the sign above the window and read: PERCY-LIERRILL Co. As Mildred was evidently busy we walked on until we came to the Court House. Gathered in front of it were a great many highly excited young men. From their con- versation we learned that there was a very sensational case going on. We entered. The lawyer was reading the verdict: Miss Rand, the court has found you guilty in the first degree of breach of promise against the plaintiff. Since this is the third offence of this nature, the court orders that you refrain from going to Exeter for six years. 'fThe same old story, we said, and continued our journey. Farther on we met Lillie Phillips, who at once asked us if we intended to go up to the Athletic Club. ff Why, what is coming off up there? we asked. ff Don't you know that Addie Bucksey and Ethel Rees are going to have a trial of strength? I guess it's begun already. Welll be late. Accordingly we all hastened toward the Athletic Club. On the way Lillie informed us that Louise Hill had become famous as director of a village choral society in Skowhegan. When we arrived, the combatants looked like one confused, wriggling mass in the center of the floor. One glance was enough, for we had seen the same performance on a smaller scale many times before. We made our exit. VVe asked Lillie to spend the afternoon with us but she declined. She is president of a large woman's college now and had to address a meeting of the professors g so we went on our way alone. It was not long before we were stopped by Alice Haiusworth. f' Hello, girls, in a hurry 3 Colne on and hear Ethel Grady speak? At first we did not know where we were going, but Alice succeeded between breaths in telling us that she was running lithel's campaign for the presidency. Her platfonn was VVo1nan's Rights. By this time we had arrived in the midst of a large mob. Mounted on a small stulnp, frantically waving her hands, was Ethel, delivering the following words with great vehemenceg H Woman is man's equal, but is she oceupin' her true 'Speer' ? Alas, nel lVe are de- prived of the ballot, we 'ain't ' allowed to make stump speeches or take part in politics. Is it right? How many men vote who know what they are voting for? I demand the ballot. I want to assume the ' speer ' which ' nachur ' fitted me for equally with men, but from which masculine jealousy has thus far excluded me. O my sisters! this is a question upon which I have cogitated long and vigorously. Wo walked around to the rear and there seated directly behind the speaker was Amy Ramsflell, taking notes as usual in a ponderous volume. She is reporter for the -- Ilingville Bugle. Beside her lay the latest copy of the paper. We took it up to read the news of the day. On the front page, written in glaring headlines, was the following announcemeut:-- 24