Smith College - Smith College Yearbook (Northampton, MA)

Text from Pages 1 - 180 of the 1899 volume:

Smith ' 99 Class Book. Committee Alice Adelaide Knox. Virginia Woodson Frame, Mary Dean Adams. Helen Eva Makepeace. TO PRESIDENT L. CLARK SEELYE THIS BOOK - IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED THE BRYANT PRESS, FLORENCE, M VSS Zbc faculty Ludella L. Peck, M Elizabeth |. Czarnomska, Mm C. Blodgett, .Mils I) Mary A Jordan, A.M . Harry N ' m man tardiner, A M I- ' Kapp, Mary E. Byrd, A B . Re IK in M Tyler, A M Delphine Duval, Rev. Irving P. Wood, A.M. Charles D. Hazen, Ph.D., B.D., John T. Stoddard, Ph D., Harris H. Wilder, Ph.D. Eleanor P. dishing, A M., J. Everett Brady, Ph.D., William F. Ganong, Ph.D. Grace A. Hubbard, AM , Frank A. Waterman, Mary I. Brewster, M.D., Senda Berenson Henry L. Moore, l ' li.n. Z,be Class Blanche Ames, Clara Mellona Austin, Carolyn Adler, [sobi 1 Gi aham Louise Allen, Helen Munro Abbott, Ad. nil-.. Helen Merrell Andrew, Margaret Childs Barkwill, Louise Barber, Lola Delphine Barlow, Carrolle Barber, Ellen Coalter Bates, Edith Wright Bates, Marie Louise Ballou, Elizabeth Silsbee Beane. Margene Blair, Mabel Symonds Bixby, Elizabeth Caroline Bedell, Harriet Chalmers Bl iss, Caroline Stowell Bell, Coi i Maj Benham, Alice Martin Bixb] . Mary White Bell. I Edith Virginia Buzzell, Carolyn Adelia Boynton, Louise Chamberlin, Mabel Capelle t Myra Budlong Booth, Winifred Gillett Carpenter, Edith May Burrage, Georgianna May Brackett. Miriam Foster Choate, Mary Louise Chamberlin, Ailace Corbett Chase, Edith Russell Chittenden, Emily Grace Cheney, r Chapin, Mary Chaffin Childs, c, (tu mil.- Kolbroolc Churchill, Harriet Coburn, Helen May Clark, Etta Louise Clough, Gertrude Craven, Mni itn Starrs i_ oe Bertha Cranston, Laura Bishop Crandon, Elizabeth Christine Cook. Ethel Maria Darling, Florence Estelle Dow, Helen Keyes Deroond, M ii i. mi I )i ury. Mary Elizabeth Duggan, Chai l ' . Ray Dering, Emma Eastman, Anna Mai mn Dodge. Harriet Coburn, Helen May Clark, Etta Louise Clough. Gertrude Craven, Miriam Storrs Coe, Bertha Cranston. Laura Bishop Crandon, Elizabeth Christine Cook. Ethel Mai ia Dai !ing, Florence Estelle Dow. i i.i.i) Keyes Deroond, Miriam Drin y. Mary Elizabeth Di Charlotte Ray Daring, Emma Eastman, Ann. i IK - Fanny Mears Eastman, Eva Sophia Forte, Clarace Goldner Eaton, Virginia Woodson Frame, Susan Brittain Ganong, Annie Elizabeth Fraser, Edith Almira Ellis, Mary Darling Fairbank. Ethel Sears rilman, Mai y Edith I i [now, Anna Lj man lyear, Sarab Elizabeth Goodwin, Mai y ireenraan, ude Brown Goldsmith, or Rand loldthwait, Lib Blnora Gunderson, Elizabeth Newcomb Hall, Gertrude Marie Hasbrouck, Edith Hayward Hall, Bertha Marie Harris, Ethel Dearie Hastings Amanda Harter, Flora Belle Hall, Bertha Almenia Hastings. fcj -- Jane Reed Hills, I lopi B latrice Hayes, Grace Walcotl H 11 ( heney Hills, Florence Wellei Hit hco k, i u j Stirling Hoag, u llbui Hill, Lucie Florena 1 1 Ethel James, Ruth Marian Huntington, Ruth Louise Homer, Mary Murray Hopkins, Margherita Isola, Mary Eunice Judson, Roberta McGce Keith, Georgia Anna Hollinger. Marjorie King, Ivlii li Amanda Kelley, Eunice Pearl Kiock, Marj KiniKinl, Florence Ketchum, Helen Rex Keller, Alice Kimball, Mary Willard Ki Alice Velma Lincoln, Harriet Belle Lane. Isoline Louise Lang, Lilly Lindquist, Kate Leland Lincoln, Dorothea Kotzschmar, Alice Adelaide Knox, Lois Angie Leonard. 1 iiirn Eva Maki Annie Maude Marcy, Mary Alice Lyman, . 1 1 i Elisabeth May, Harriet ' dricta Martin. ii, e Allen Lynch, Hi Clintoi Ic, Millie Gordon McAuley. Nellie Louise Mitchell, Marie Anijeline Mohr, Ella Patten Merrill, Geoi gina Gardiner Montgomery, Helen Hurnham Merchant, Grace Ethel Mossman, Bertha Alice Merrill, Alice Gertrude Moore. i [i i H Hepburn Patton, i . | Madge Palm M.ii j lil.inrli.ii .1 N ' elson Agnes MyuiiT, Susy Pressy Moulton, Ruth Shepard Phelps, Choate Perkins, prances Camp Pan Margaret Ross Putnam, Can. line Olivia Howe Read. EditJjiNichols Putney, EJlen Clement Putney, Elizabeth Chesson Ray, Annah Goldthwaite Porter, Edith Edwina Rand, Mary Oilman Pulsifer.  Netl ie Melville Ripley, Bertha Butler Reeves, Adeline Rebecca Ross, Marian Edwards Rich ards ces Electa Rice, Janet War ing Roberts, Mai tha Bird Riley, Ethel Baker Ridenour, Lucy Evelyn Sinclair, Alice Symmes Russell, Ida Frances Sargeant, Mary Hyde Seymour, Margaret Burnett Silsbee, Katharine Seward, Ella Bradley Shepherd, Eloise Bentley Santee. M-u Alice Smith, Rita Creighton Smith, Mary Southworth, Ada Springer, Caroline Fonda si a on strong Somen ,. i, Ish Stanton, Blla Brigga Spencer. Mary Elmer Tillinghast, Edith Tomlinson, Edith Winifred Tiemann, Grace Baxter Tobey, Ruth Louise Strickland, Harriet Sarah Stockton, Elizabeth Sumner Stule, Jane Witter Stetson. Lucj Runey Tufts, Mai I (ykeman Horr, Elizabeth Warner, Lucy Hum Warner, Uabi ' • Bmilie Curtiss Tomlinson, Anna Mae Tow ne, Mai i ha Ti nncj ' ance. Deborah Allen Wig-gin, Ethel Hebard West, Helen Lucv Woodruff, Ethel Moulton Webb, Harriet Anna Westinghouse, Sarah Xasun Whitman, Florence Edna Wilcox. Frances Elizabeth W heeler. Florida Morse Winchester, Helen Lucy Woodruff, ane Wil Margaret Ewing Wilkinson, Mabel 1 1 de Woi kman, former JMembers Abell, Annabel, Adler, Eugenia, Andrews, Agnes, Barber, Mary Saxton, Barnes, Mary Elizabeth (Mrs. G. O. Forbes), Bartow, Grace (Mrs. Harry Bates), Battin, Nancy Maus, Brill, Edith, Cairns, Edith, Carleton, Ethel Winsor, Carter, Elinor Lawton, Chamberlain, Elizabeth Mary, Chambers, Charlotte Warren, Chapman, Etta Corlies, Cloud, Mary Teresa, Colman, Elizabeth Woodman, Colton, Gertrude Graham, Conant, Harriet Wheeler, Criley, Katharine May, Crowell, Minerva Evelyn, Currier, Florence, Danielson, Clara Maud, Darling, Mary Sheddon, Davis, Ethel Hyde, Douglass, Kate Sherrill, 1026;Brooklyn Avenue, Kansas City, Mo. 261 University Avenue, Rochester, N. Y. 51 Vernon Street, Brookline, Mass. Executive Mansion, Washington, D. C. 1214 National Avenue, Rockford, 111. 302 Bolton Avenue, Cleveland, O. Omaha, Neb. 471 Laurel Avenue, St. Paul, Minn. 444 West 5th Street, Plainfield, N. J. 252 Berkley Street, Germantown, Pa. 10 Francis Avenue, Cambridge, Mass. 49 Park Street, New Haven, Conn. 255 North 3rd Street, San Jose, Cal. 29 Girard Avenue, Hartford, Conn. Pasadena, Cal. 144 Pleasant Street, Arlington, Mass. Calumet, Mich. Lowell, Mass. New Hotel English, Indianapolis, Ind. East Dennis, Mass. Hanover, N. H. Fairhaven, Mass. Pawtucket, R. I. Worcester, Mass. Box 121, Long Beach, Cal. 37 Durgin, Florence, Eddy, Caroline Simmons, Ellis, Myrtle Eva (Mrs. G. B. Robertson), Emerson, Louise Ruth, Fairfield, Mabel Edna, Fisher, Adele Meserve, Foley, Edna (Mrs. C. V. Sanford), Forbes, Clara Belle, L Foster, Alice May, Fowle, Josephine Russell, Fox, Helen Augusta, (Mrs. Warner Thompson.) French, Maude Cerilla, Gardner, Mary Alice, Goodell, Katharine Abigail, Gorrill, Addie Walker, Gorrill, Carrie Walker, Gould, Elsie, Hamilton, Edith, Heade, Mary Clark, Hilt, Susie Edna, Holden, Charlotte Cheney, Howe, Fannie Bliss, Hull, Une (Mrs. Francis E. Greene), Jackson, Edna Earle, Johnson, Agnes Letournier, Keeler, Katherine (Mrs. A. T. Barnes), Lachmund, Alice, Lathrop, Josephine, Locke, Ethel Upham, Lord, Clara Steele, Maynard, Harriet Adelaide, Moffett, Bessie Tuttle, Moore, Bessie, Paine, Elizabeth Knight, . Parkes, Irene Edna, Patterson, Harriette Whitney Peterson, M. Louise, Prairie, Etta Louise, Pratt, Florence Livingston, Quigley, Bessie Graves (Mrs. R. H. Fothergill), Rederich, Elinor Josephine, Robison, Myrtie May, Safford, Abbie Rebecca, Schott, Elizabeth Christine, Schwab, Helen Hannah, 1905 Barry Avenue, Chicago, 111. 84 Franklin Street, Newton, Mass. 206 Washington Avenue, Keene, N. H. Wellesley Hills, Mass. Adams, Mass. 94 Village Avenue, Dedham, Mass. 136 Huntington Place, Mt. Auburn, Cincinnati, O. 1365 Delmar Avenue, St. Louis, Mo. 73 Grove Avenue, Leominster, Mass. 175 Mystic Street, Arlington, Mass. Albion, N. Y. Malone, N. Y. Hingham, Mass. 1400 Josephine Street, Denver, Col. Box 323, Oakland, Cal. . Box 323, Oakland, Cal. 720 Avenue C, Bayonne, N. J. 35 Fruit Street, Worcester, Mass. Cambridge, O. Aurora, 111. 1841 Wellington Avenue, Chicago, 111. 137 High Street, Hartford, Conn. . Wilmette, Cook County, III. 1506 East 8th Street, Kansas City, Mo. Everett, Mass. 1302 National Avenue, Rockford, 111. Waverley Place, St. Louis, Mo. Sherburne, N. Y. Easthampton, Mass. 4857 Greenwood Avenue, Chicago, III. . Hamilton, N. Y. Littleton, N. H. Newtonville, Mass. Foxcroft, Me. 1207 Maple Street, Evanston, 111. North Attleboro, Mass. Farmer, N. Y. Adams, Mass. Brattleboro, Vt. 107 West 23d Street, Wilmington, Del. 823 Jones Street, Sioux City, la. 2548 Capitol Avenue, Omaha, Neb. Quechee, Vt. South Hadley Falls, Mass. 4393 Westminster Plain, St. Louis, Mo. 40 Searle, Katharine, Shaw, Inez Linwood, Smith, Bertha Melora, Smith, Irene Lathrop, Snyder, Laura Bell, Spalding, Alice Eliza, Squire, Elizabeth, Stetson, Harriet Swan, Stillings, Charlotte Melville, Stillings, Mary Walker, Stockton, Alice Louise, Taintor, Mabel Grace, Taylor, Frances Elizabeth, Taylor, Helen Demarest, Tyler, Florence Larned, Walker, Dora Haines, Walker, Maud Jane, Wellman, Florence Maude, Wheeler, Mary Louise, White, Charlotte Helen, 41 Concord Avenue, Cambridge, 0. Huntington Avenue, Boston, Mass. 4130 Westminster Place, St. Louis, Mo. La Fayette, N. J. 1003 Pierce Street, Sioux City, la. 203 Stony Street, Council Bluffs, la. Bridgewater, Mass. 42 Pleasant Street, Concord, N. H- 42 Pleasant Street, Concord, N. H. 410 State Street North, Chicago, III. Easthampton, Mass. Rome, N. Y. Care Prof. Graham Taylor, 140 North Union Street, Chicago, III. 152 Strathmore Road, Aberdeen, Boston, Mass. Exeter, N. H. West Roxbury, Mass. 26 Western Avenue, Brattleboro, Vt. 214 West 72nd Street, New York City. Whately, Mass. Died October it, 1896. 41 fiouee Dramatics Donna Diana, The Love Chase, The Amazons, The Critic, i895- ' 9 The Alpha and Phi Kappa Psi Societies, The Tertium Quid Society, The Dickinson House, The Sarm Ganok Society, November 7. November 20. January 15. April 22. The Fair Barbarian, Money, The Heir at Law, j896- ' 97 The Wallace House Dramatics Society, The Lawrence House, The Morris House, November 18. February 24. May 5. The Hunchback, A Scrap of Paper, The Wheel of Love, Fanchon, the Cricket, i897 ' 98 The Tertium Quid Society, Olla Podrida, The Dickinson House, The Sarm Ganok Society, December 15. March 2. March 23. June 1 . A Russian Honeymoon, The Belle ' s Stratagem, Esmeralda, 1 898 99 The Wallace House Dramatics Society, The Lawrence House, The Morris House, November 16. February 18. March 22. 43 i£ Senior Officers Virginia Woodson Frame. President. Mary Kennard. Executive Officer. Senior Members Miriam Foster Choate, Gertrude Craven, Ethel Sears Gilman, Amanda Harter, Grace Wolcott Hazard, Ruth Marian Huntington, Ethel James, Edith Amanda Kelly, Mary Willard Keyes. Alice Adelaide Knox. Kate Leland Lincoln, Margaret Elisabeth May. Georgina Gardiner Montgomery. Helen Hepburn Patten. Bertha Butler Reeves. Janet Waring Roberts. Mabelle Morris Ufford. Harriet Anna Westinghouse. Margaret Ewing Wilkinson. Senior Officers Louise Barser, President, Marian Edwards Richards, Editor. Ruth Shepard Phelps, Chairman of Executive Committee. Senior Members Blanche Ames, Edith Hayward Hall. Carrolle Barber, Caroline Cheney Hills, Harriet Chalmers Bliss, Harriet Goodrich Martin. Mabel Capelle, Alice Choate Perkins. Emily Grace Cheney, Edith Nichols Putney, Harriet Coburn, Rita Creighton Smith, Clarace Gcldner Eaten. Ruth Louise Strickland. Senior Officers Susan Brittain Ganong, President, Margherita Isola, Vice-President, Helen Eva Makepeace, Executive Officer. Senior embers Clara Mellona Austin, Mabel Capelle, Gertrude Holbrook Churchill, Miriam Storrs Coe, Mary Darling Fairbank, Ethel Sears Gilman, Mary Greenman, Ruth Marian Huntington, Edith Amanda Kelley, Mary Kennard, Mary Willard Keyes, Alice Adelaide Knox, Annie Maude Marcy, Margaret Elisabeth May, Ella Patten Merrill, Grace Ethel Mossman, Margaret Ross Putnam, Edith Edwina Rand, Bertha Butler Reeves, Janet Waring Roberts, Mary Southworth, Ruth Louise Strickland, Harriet Sarah Stockton, Anna Harriet Westinghouse. John T. Stoddard, Ph.D., President, Margaret Silsbee, Secretary, Caroline Stowell Bell, Treasurer. Senior Members Abby Louise Allen, Edith May Burrage, Miriam Storrs Coe, Sarah Elizabeth Goodwin, Ruth Marian Huntington, Margherita Isola, Kate Leland Lincoln, Alice Allen Lynch, Annie Maude Marcy, Alice Choate Perkins, Ella Bradley Shepherd, Emilie Curtiss Tomlinson. 48 Lily Lindguist, President, Edith Hayward Hall, Treasurer, Ruth Shepard Phelps, Vice-President, Caroline Fonda Slocum, Secretary. Helen Merrill Andrew, Elizabeth Caroline Bedell, Mary White Bell, Mary Louise Chamberlain, Miriam Foster Choate, Elizabeth Christine Cook, Virginia Woodson Frame, Lily Elnora Gunderson, Grace Wolcott Hazard, Roberta McGee Keith, Dorothea Kotzschmar, Helen Eva Makepeace, Helen Burnham Merchant, Edith Nichols Putney, Edith Edwina Rand, Marian Edwards Richards, Mary Southworth. 49 Ludella L. Peck, President, Caroline Cheney Hills, Vice-President. Senior Members Blanche Ames, Carrolle Barber, Louise Barber, Harriet Chalmers Bliss, Harriet Coburn, Anna Lyman Goodyear, Ruth Louise Homer, Caroline Olivia Read, Rita Creighton Smith, Ruth Louise Strickland. 50 Rev. Henry M. Tyler, President. Helen Burnham Merchant, Executive Officer. Winifred Gillett Carpenter, Edith Russell Chittenden, Miriam Foster Choate, Mary Elizabeth Duggan, Edith Hayward Hall, Senior embers Sarah Elizabeth Goodwin, Madge Lelia Palmer, Edith Nichols Putney, Ellen Clement Putney, Nettie Melville Ripley, Frances Elizabeth Wheeler. 51 Rev. Irving F. Wood, A.M., B.D., President, Edith Edwina Rand, Executive Officer, Ethel Hebard West, Secretary. Elizabeth S ilsbee Beane, Mary White Bell, Cora May Benham, Alice Martin Bixby, Mabel Symonds Bixby, Margene Blair, Myra Budlong Booth, Gertrude Holbrook Churchill, Helen Keyes Demond, Mary Darling Fairbank, Anna ' Lyman Goodyear, Lilly Lindguist, Alice McClintock, Nellie Louise Mitchell, Susy Pressy Moulton, Caroline Fonda Slocum, Grace Baxter Tobey, Anna Mae Towne, Martha Tenny Vance, Elizabeth Warner, Maude Lucy White, Florence Edna Wilcox. 52 m ;T Jai J 1 E i- Jl i i 1  v B i ni. e f Benjamin C. Blodgett, Mus. D., President, Mabel Capelle, Vice-President, Katherine Seward, Executive Officer. Senior embers Helen Merrell Andrew, Elizabeth Caroline Bedell, Edith Virginia Buzzell, Winifred Gillett Carpenter, Grace Walcott Hazard, Eloise Bentley Santee, Mary Hyde Seymour, Edith Winifred Tiemann, Mary Elmer Tillinghast, Maude Lucy White. 53 Ruthie O ' Sthrickun ' , Chafe Cook an ' Bottle Washer. Saynfor limbers Helen McAbbott, Maggie O ' Barkwill, Hattie O ' Bliss, Emily O ' Chaney, Hattie O ' Coby, Ethel McGilman, Rutie O ' Homer, Mrs. O ' Huntington, Jesse Jims, Mollie Kennard, Helly O ' Makepeace, Maggie O ' Putnam, Maggie O ' Silsbee, Mrs. McWard, knee Miss Maggie O ' May. 54 Janet Waring Roberts, Chairman, Margaret Burnett Silsbee, Secretary. Helen Munro Abbott, Blanche Ames, Mabel Capelle, Emily Grace Cheney, Harriet Coburn, Gertrude Craven, Clarace Goldner Eaton, Virginia Woodson Frame, Ethel Gllman, Amanda Harter, Ethel James, Mary Kennard, Margaret Elisabeth May, Ruth Louise Strickland, Harriet Anna Westinghouse. 55 Officers for the ' Year 1 897- 8 Senda E. Berenson, President, Abby Louise Allen, First Vice-President. Chairman of 0olf Committee Ethel James. Chairman of the Boat Committee Margaret Ewing Wilkinson. Chairman of the Cennis Committee Helen Schwab. 56 Cbe Students ' Building Committee Janet Waring Roberts, Chairman. Senior Members Mary Kennard, Amanda Harter, Ruth Louise Strickland. 57 Carrolle Barber, President, Mabel Capelle, Vice-President. Cbe Christian Qnion Carrolle Barber, President, Mabel Capelle, Executive Officer. the Missionary Society Helen Hepburn Patton, President, Janet Waring Roberts, Treasurer. Che College Settlements Hssociation Ruth Shephard Phelps, Elector. Cbe JVeedleworh 6uild Harriet Coburn, Director. Cbe Rome Culture Clubs Alice Adelaide Knox, Secretary. 58 Che Council Harriet Chalmers Bliss, President. Senior Members Blanche Ames, Carrolle Barber, Harriet Coburn. 59 SMITH COLLEGE FRESHMEN WIN. Exciting Baskst Ball Gams, the Chief Athletic Event of the Year at Northampton. NORTHAMPTON March 2l-Tbe rfrlt t ' basket bail ga college w a today. ' Al tha end of II, c Ant half the- s.ore Stood II— H I f VOf 01 Ihu r M Mm Al the end of liie Kam- it « n 19—18 In fa- vor of Vj. giving the first victory evei won be ficsht.ien In basket ball to the glas- of  For weeks tna excltcine it over the gumc h«u been felt through Ihr- Tn. line plulflg of the M t am Us I year had beei to Impressed upon Irn freshmen tii.it it made UlCtD unusually eameut and faithful In Ihtlr team prac lice The hti . r or defeating bui h .1 team would b ' very great, llu-y tliOu,;hl The interet of the upper class fclrls hat, been sho«n by the rueful and sy. - 101 h clai the yame unusually grvai tlirougbot the college Long b :■ . ■ 1pm, when ibo garr slart-.d, the ( alkry wai thronged Tho n aldu, with the elrong voices 1 K to lead them, began to siug to U wncof ' Ti,  Atklnn ' Fu- tft, never farther bwhind Hi-n court e )! J(min ' l!i alriicb up to the ati of ankee Doi3.1i..- ' rhe jfyninasl ' im |.j d:ed goifieoug in 1 ti..- of red, viulol, i.-iiow and greer . ' .j.i-l in.: uall.ric The SS h,Uf of th. ilrry had the po«l wound with ret ntlng, and behind I ho crowd wen rum He bla mc r.-l hai,, . s of nil de iiptlons The green ol the froth met wing 1 1 |.y smiling facea ,f mon th.ui - : r sang and l, --red fot her . I. - h u one of th. n. t Inleie.itmf: t ghn or (he j ■ l ' .n ImiiH college, i.nd rim one which the ► en nutttidero aru allowod to look . n-ii id., door of Hi- rlrrMtng rooms -1 ■ n] ned . .J ' he ■ ' i 11 in- i ali. ti. h -lio.ri, wuli applauae The radium tuiu wnn in. ngurea s belts , 1 ihe Ural hall hman 1 itm had large white lUlll for ..II ■allor collar edg ' d w h green on in. ii.h Th. « oulti. as will 43 the Ihgwr- ... , p, -, Mlsa Wright tbfew th ball into IhC ernier wl,.n th- whlaile bl « fur tha game 10 rommmn The inguif lu the ivj. ctuffhl 1 ' ■ • ' ■ ' li. ■ ■! V8, p. .si-| ■ 1 Ojuli klv tu Mien Harnmon 1. who by a ■ w.fl roll got It to Mi... J-.k.-,,, iu,, threw It 10 Mis Waldo at hortu- Sh-. by an -any toss tln.-w 11 Into Che bas- ket and tf.- Ural point Tor rj www m.-d . . kv r roil at in a few 1 Th- lecond mid third goaia wer« thrown bv 98 in the game m. inner Tbut f,n th ' freiihm ii had ha idly lout bed iho boll Th fourth lime the jii w.,-. thru  m in lh.- frr -hm. ,,-hr 1, ,. , 1 p « . 1 11 iiul kly to if.- r horn 1 ,.1. ;• , itlntipl ■ 11 pi 1 icd 1 I,. . -. low wlfim throuj h the 1 bain 3 (S iq •o 5 ' f p ' Jo  + 2. g 5 o t A 9 fe   , ' ' jTOmso call Clwife « I Glee Club Harriet Anna Westinghouse ' 99 Leader, Marion Strong Somers ' 99, Manager, Marjorie King ' 99, Assistant Leader, Harrietts Mumford Ross 1900, Treasurer. first Sopranos Marjorie King ' 99, Kate Leland Lincoln ' 99, Katherine Seward 99, Katherine May Ayers 1901, Ethel Lane 1901, Edna C. Lane 1902. Second Sopranos Mary Chaffin Childs 99, Marion Strong Somers ' 99, Keturah Sherman B eers 1900, Mary Sheafer Whltcomb 1900, Mary Beach Curtis 1901. first Hltos Grace Ethel Mossman ' 99, Katherine Charlotte Griggs 1900, Frances Crosby Buffington 1901, Lucy Morris Ellsworth 1901, Florence Josephine Smyth 1901, Florence Lena Yerxa 1901. Second Hltos Anna Mae Towne ' 99, Mary Esther Walton 1900, Florence A. Canedy 1901, Leal May Fales 1901, Alice Townsend Woodfin 1901. 68 a c Banjo Club Agnes Mynter ' 99, Leader. Ella Patten Merrill ' 99, Manager. first Banjos Sarah Elizabeth Goodwin ' 99, Edith Imogene Brown 1900, Martha Dalzell Gilchrist 1900, Marguerite Morehead Monfort 1900, Beatrice Pickett 1900, Mary Ainslle 1901, Evelyn Mlddlebrook Goodsell 1901 Second Banjos Georgianna May Brackett ' 99, Sarah Maude Brown 1900, Agnes Elizabeth Slocum 1900. Mandolins Edith Wellington Emerson 1900, Helen Gager 1900, Felice Menuez Bowns 1901. Guitars Ella Patten Merrill ' 99, Agnes Mynter ' 99, Alma Hoegh 1900, Mabel Arva Brewer 1901, Emma West Durkee 1901, Mabel Louise Fitzgerald 1901, Pauline Marie Garey 1901. 71 KVJ! YrffAMi Mandolin Club Ruth Marian Huntington ' 99, Leader, Helen Mary Janney 1900, Manager. first Mandolins Ruth Marian Huntington, ' 99, Mary Kennard ' 99, Helen Mary Janney 1900. Nina Louise Almirall 1901. Second Mandolins Mathilda Luella Heidrich 1900, Mary Tate Lord 1900, Mary Louise Caldwell 1901, Helen Louise Harsha 1901. Violins Lola Delphine Barlow ' 99, Margaret Elisabeth May ' 99. Guitars Elizabeth Caroline Bedell ' 99, Emma Mahoney 1900. fiarp Laurel Louise Fletcher. 72 V FRAME 3 u 3 u. o c furness prize essay Che Use of Soliloquy in Shakespeare ' s Dramas For the last century, at least, a favorite incident with novelists has been that of the rustic at his first play, which he invariably takes for a reality. Among the more or less shrewd remarks which he makes on the persons and events of the drama, J do not remember that the ingenuous countryman has yet observed how many of the characters are in the habit of talking to themselves. And yet no comment would seem more natural. The plausible scoundrel who unbosoms himself of all his dark designs the moment his victim ' s back is turned, and the lovely girl breathing her innocent yet closely-guarded secret to all the winds of heaven, would be likely to elicit, from one unfamiliar with stage usage, criticism not wholly complimentary. Unhappily, the assumption on which all these stories are based, namely, that the illusion of the drama will be strongest to those least familiar with spectacles of the sort, appears to be the exact opposite of the truth. In this, as in all other forms of art, a certain familiarity with the medium employed is necessary before any very definite impression can be produced. The dramatist proceeds under limitations no less real than those of the painter toward that simplification of some side or point of life which has been declared the end of every work of art. He must reject a vast quantity of material pertaining to his subject, and that which is finally selected he must recombine and set forth by means of a definite technical apparatus. In real life, the light and bustle of the theatre, the hurried action, huddling one event on another, the sudden shifting of the place, or the omission of a dozen years, produce upon the novice an effect of excitement indeed, but also of confusion and unreality. The accustomed play-goer alone can set quietly aside all the falsities to fact which belong to the dramatic machinery, and follow with sensitive interest the intention of the play. He under- stands without a moment ' s thought that the gilded drawing-room in which the events of the play take place is a normal apartment of four sides, although one of these sides is necessarily removed in order to display to him what is going on within. And In a similar manner he understands that Iago, who sneers at men so loose of soul that in their sleeps will mutter their affairs, is not really afflicted by a still more deplorable candor, but that the dramatist is using the only means within his scope to convey to the listener the secret reflections of Iago ' s mind. In short, the object of this preamble is simply to lay down once more the familiar proposition that soliloquy is not a direct transcript from life, but a technical device or convention of the drama. 77 One-half of the etymological meaning of soliloquy is thus set aside as inaccurate : the other half is not more exact. Except for ths purpose of intelligibility, most soliloquy is not a speaking at all : neither is it essential, as the use of the word has become extended, that the speaker or thinker should be alone . For it is readily apparent that the aside is a minor form of soliloquy, distin- guished from the typical form only by the presence of other characters on the stage. Here it is manifest at once that the words are thought, not spoken. On the other hand, it is difficult to mark the exact boundary between soliloquy and dialogue in the utterances of strong emotion, where the mind is so absorbed in itself that the presence of listeners is forgotten. These two poles of soliloquy are illustrated very aptly in Othello, where Iago ' s coldly reflective aside, Not poppy, nor mandragora .... Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep That thou owd ' st yesterday, — is followed immediately by that agonizing outburst of the tormented soul of Othello, O, now for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars. That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! .... Farewell ! Othello ' s occupation ' s gone ! If the scope of the word be thus extended the difficulty of defining it is increased. Soliloquy may however be distinguished from dialogue, if under the former head be placed all speech not intended by the speaker to convey anything to the other persons of the drama. Evidently, soliloquy of some kind is employed in nearly every play, but the dramatists of different schools and periods vary greatly in their consciousness of it as a distinct implement of dramatic machinery, as well as in the ends to which they adapt it. In classic drama it has practi- cally no function to perform. Its peculiar office, that of laying bare the spiritual processes by which character is moulded and transformed, would have been superfluous in a drama which condemned as impropriety any change in the demeanor of its personages. The Greek hero is simple and self- centered: he speaks the truth, or he lies, but he knows nothing of those shifting lights and shades of dissimulation and whim, the half unconscious adaptation of mental attitude to the listener, which makes it impossible to reach the real self of many of Shakespeare ' s or Browning ' s characters save through the medium of soliloquy. Finally, the convention by which all parties alike confide in the 78 chorus, which is present throughout the greater part of the action, renders soliloquy unnecessary as an aid in the unfolding of the plot. So that though a character in Greek drama may now and then be alone on the stage during the delivery of a speech, as in the Prometheus of ttschylus, this speech exhibits none of the characteristic qualities of soliloquy, and does not differ inherently from those of the dialogue. On coming to the pre-Shakespearean English drama, we find the soliloquy on a firm footing and clearly differe ntiated, although there is naturally a crudity and tentativeness about it as yet. The people in these early plays often find no better way of expressing their emotions than by stating precisely what they are — I rage! I ravel emotion checks my speech! or the like, in Ercles ' vein — while they are given to narrating their plans and achievements to empty air in good set terms, in a way that finds no parallel in nature. Even Marlowe falls into both these errors, especially in his earlier plays, but it must not be forgotten that many of his greatest passages — the praise of beauty in Tamburlaine, Barabbas ' description of his riches, the tremendous closing scene of Doctor Faustus — occur in soliloquies. Among the later Elizabethans much use is made of soliloquy. In the mouths of Beaumont and Fletcher ' s love-lorn maids it acquires a charming, self-conscious, half artificial pathos. Webster uses it to throw a redeeming shade of remorse over the sinister features of his villains. With each of the dramatists of this time it is adapted with good effect to some one or two ends. Shakespeare alone is absolute lord and master of this as of every other dramatic form, to sound on it what stop he pleases. But before proceeding to a detailed study of his use of soliloquy it may not be amiss briefly to consider what part it has played since his day. Somewhere between the seventeenth century and our own time, the drama begins to split into two divisions, until nowadays we have a distinct line of demarcation between the acting play and the closet drama. As might be expected, soliloquy is a favorite device with the writers of the latter, who work with little reference to the practical needs of the stage. Their interest is largely psycho- logical, and soliloquy is the most perfect literary instrument of psychological analysis. The extreme type of this class is Browning, whose dramas fail as acting plays, not through any lack of vigorously dramatic situations, but because they are clogged with too much reflection, and the action is repeat- edly delayed for a close analysis of the exact mental state of each of the characters. In the Return of the Druses, for example, this super-subtle use of soliloquy, while it develops with masterly skill the blending of fantacism and imposture in the character of Djabal, touches the limits of burlesque in scenes where more than half the speeches are asides. In the acting play, which is bound to keep in touch with the demands of its audience, whatever literary merits it may resign, there is no danger of this sacrifice of the dramatic to the psychological interest. It may be only my fancy, however, that the use of soliloquy on the stage has fallen off great- ly since Elizabethan days. May not this be of a piece with the increased care bestowed on stage setting, diminishing the call upon the imagination? For a gentleman to open his mind to the appro- priate upholstery or most life-like pasteboard trees of the present has always a somewhat unnatural 79 air about it, and accordingly there are several modern plays of the better sort in which a character left alone upon the stage remains in perfect silence, leaving the spectators to supply his reflections. When Shakespeare wrote, on the other hand, so many conventions were in use that one more or less could make little difference. By a convention the audience accepted the bare stage for the market-place, hall of state, or desert country by the sea, which a placard declared it; by a conven- tion they saw in four or five most vile and ragged foils the armies of Agincourt ; and should they stickle at the convention which admitted them to hear what was passing in the minds of the persons before them? Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts was the motto of their theatre. The dramatist of those days felt himself under no compulsion to produce only what could be accu- rately represented on the stage; but he was still the practical playwright, whose writings must stand or fall by their interest as plays, not as poems or psychological studies. Within this salutary limitation, and with this freedom from mere matter-of-fact considerations, what are the uses to which Shakespeare has put soliloquy? The most obvious function which soliloquy can fulfill is that of keeping the audience informed of the plot of the play. This usage might perhaps be derived from the prologizing divinities of Euripides. It is represented to this day in melodrama, where all the characters announce themselves and relate their past histories to the gallery, and where the villain declares in scowling asides, In one short hour I shall see me life-long enemy weltering in his gore. To this, which may be called the naif use of soliloquy, Shakespeare rarely condescends — but for some of his earliest plays one might say never. He is at least perilously near it in that opening speech where Richard III. declares, I am determined to prove a villain Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous. . . . And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mewed up. Contrast with this the scheming of Iago : ... .Cassio ' s a proper man : let me see now; To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery — How, how? — Let ' s see: — After some time, to abuse Othello ' s ear, etc. In the former instance Richard is arbitrarily made by the dramatist to recapitulate purposes already formed, and to apply to himself a careful selection of opprobrious epithets. Iago on the con- trary is shown just in the heat of developing his plans, and the admission of his own knavery is let fall carelessly, as an idea with which he is long since familiar. A comparison of the soliloquies of these two men, the most complete villains that Shakespeare has drawn, is one of the most impressive 80 illustrations possible of the growth of his genius. Those of Richard are in great part summaries of the crimes which he has committed or intends to commit ; they have as premeditated an air as his speech to the aldermen; their probability is redeemed only by a fine buoyancy, a diabolical relish of wickedness — Which done, God t ake King Edward to his mercy, and leave the world for me to bustle in I But in Iago, how the very processes of thought are brought before us: the first conception of a plan, its alteration and expansion; that motive-hunting of a motiveless malignity which Coleridge has noted; the superfluous schemes of villainy, caught up and then forgotten ; the sneering contempt for stupidity, and for innocence and honesty as forms of stupidity I An insight into plot is given here almost incidentally : the revelation of Iago ' s purposes is subordinated to the revelation of Iago. In all but the earliest plays this is Shakespeare ' s use of soliloquy in the development of his plot— never a formal discovery of a design at its height, but a series of changing views of an idea becoming fixed, or a passion In its rise. It is so that Leontes ' jealousy is lashed, in passionate asides, from a chance breath of suspicion to an insane frenzy. It Is so, in melancholy reflective asides interspersed with fragments of dialogue, that Brutus forms his momentous resolve. But the drama in which soliloquy plays the most considerable part is undoubtedly Hamlet. Even by numerical computation it holds a leading place here. Of some 1480 lines spoken by Hamlet, 220 are uttered in soliloquy. But in importance these 220 lines well-nigh outweigh all the rest together. Hamlet as the play stands is an enigma, but an enigma to which each reader believes he holds a key. Every actor and every critic offers a different solution from all the rest, yet each of these Interpretations has at least some coherency and probability. Try now the experiment of reading the play without the eight soliloquies of its hero, and at once it becomes an inexplicable jumble, which might fairly be denied all claim to rank as a work of art. There is no longer any sign of purpose in the disposition of events. If Hamlet has some deep design of avenging his father, what is it, and why does he so long delay its execution ? Does he really doubt the revelation of the Ghost, that he probes his uncle ' s conscience by means of the play? Why does the spirit on Its second appearance reprove his almost blunted purpose ? Above all, where is the artistic fitness in the chance-medley of the last act, and why does the King ' s death depend, not on the purpose which has presumably been nursed so long, but on the impulse of a moment ? All these questions have been answered in various ways : without the help of the soliloquies one hardly sees how they could have been answered at all. In running briefly over the drama from this point of view, I may be pardoned if I necessarily take for granted the interpretation of Hamlet ' s character in which I personally concur, since my object is simply to indicate the relative importance of the soliloquies and the dialogue. In the second scene of the first act, we gather from Hamlet ' s brief conversation with the King and Queen that he is obedient and respectful to his mother, not too much attached to his new step- father, and that he is plunged in deep sadness for his own father ' s death. But it is not until he is left aione that the depth of his melancholy becomes apparent. He is sick to the heart of life. 81 OGcd! OGod! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on ' t I O fie 1 ' tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed : things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. His mind dwells and broods constantly on his mother ' s t oo hasty marriage, and on the contrast between his uncle and his dearly-loved father. Let me not think on ' t, he says, and breaks off, and resumes again, with gloomy forebodings. It is not, nor it cannot come to good. There is not the least trace of an attempt to shake off his melancholy in action, of that fierce impulse to do something, no matter what, which is the immediate protest of a strong nature against the necessity of grief. At most he would kill himself and get away from it all, but even before this thought, comes the longing for an escape in which he might remain wholly passive : that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew I Presently Horatio enters with the two sentinels and the story of the Ghost is told. Hamlet is deeply impressed, and shows the high spirit proper to a young prince in his situation : I ' ll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace. Still more important, however, are the few words which he speaks when the others have left him alone once more. Would the night were come! All the critics call attention to Hamlet ' s perfect courage when action is forced upon him: this one sentence proves that he can also look forward with manly eagerness to a strange and perilous adventure. But when this adventure has passed — when his father ' s spirit has confirmed most fully his vague presentiment of evil, and laid upon him the sacred duty of vengeance — then his whole moral nature seems to crumble under the necessity of taking the initiative. 0 fie I he cries, Hold, hold, my heart ; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. 82 This is an absolute sickness of the will. In a healthy nature there is a real rising of the spirits under the imposition of responsibility, nobly illustrated (not to leave our province of soliloquy) in the meditations of Henry V. on the night before Agincourt. It is in this soliloquy of Hamlet ' s that those commentators who hold the opinion of his madness see the first sign of unsettling wits, where the prince draws out his tables to set down That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. Rattier it is that his ill-disciplined will is already starting away from a repugnant duty. His over- excited brain wraps it in a multitude of words : Remember thee ! Yea, from the table of my memory I ' ll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there ; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain. Presently the others return, and here is given the first hint of Hamlet ' s purpose of counterfeiting madness, suggested possibly by his friends ' surprise at the wild and whirling words with which he greets them. The best explanation of his assumed madness seems to be that it consists simply in giving free rein to his fancy, and saying just what comes into his head, than which nothing could be more startling in the midst of that dissembling court. Already, when next he is alone (at the end of Act II.) he has begun to reproach himself for inaction. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am II The players have just left him, and he is ashamed that their pretended passion should appear deeper than his real one. Am I a coward? he asks himself. He knows he is not, in the ordinary sense, and yet how else can he explain his own inert condition ? He breaks out in curses of his uncle, and then in reproof of himself for ' unpacking his heart in words. ' Then, to satisfy his conscience by doing something, he develops the idea of the play to catch the conscience of the King , which has already suggested itself to him. To excuse himself for this half-way measure, he declares: The spirit that I have seen May be the devil ; and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, 83 As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me. I ' ll have grounds More relative than this. But the whole course of his speech has shown that this is a mere pretext for delaying any decisive resolution. He has never had one Instant ' s doubt of the King ' s guilt from the moment when his suspicion leaped to meet the Ghost ' s disclosure in the exclamation, O my prophetic soul I My uncle I And now when he has begun to do something, though a thing not much to the purpose, In his very next soliloquy ( To be or not to be , the most familiar of all the famous soliloquies of Hamlet) he is dallying once more with his old temptation of suicide. Life is merely a burden : if death were surely the end, all men would seek death, but we dread something beyond, though we know not what. It is because we think too anxiously of what is beyond that we vacillate and linger here ; It is this too anxious thought which palsies the will and restrains us from all great actions. He reads his own malady into all life, and the speech so much quoted apart from its context is dyed In grain with Hamlet ' s melancholy irresolution. One phrase of it, the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns, has given the commentators much trouble, for was not the Ghost such a returned traveler? To me it seems evident that in this speech Shakespeare has totally forgotten the supernatural machinery which he had seen fit to employ in the play, and is making Hamlet speak from a merely human knowledge, a merely human uncertainty as to the existence and character of the after-life. The action of the play proceeds, with one or two soliloquies of comparatively little importance. That in which Hamlet justifies himself for not killing the King at his prayers is interesting chiefly as showing how readily at any moment his revengeful purpose might have been accomplished but for his own paltering. But in the fourth scene of Act IV. he is once more excited, by the example of Fortinbras, a young man who is active from temperament, as Hamlet is passive. How all occasions do inform against me And spur my dull revenge I . . . . Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, — A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, — I do not know Why yet I live to say, ' This thing ' s to do. ' 84 This is the last time that Hamlet is left alone. From this point the action quickens. Hamlet has had his chance to assume control of circumstances: he has let it go by with thinking too precisely on the event, and now circumstances seize control of him. Some of the critics will have it that in the fifth act he forms a purpose at last, of which they see indications in his reply, when Horatio reminds him that news of the death of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern must shortly arrive, It will be short. The interim is mine. But there is no sign of a fxed intention even yet, nor do I see any change in him when he is forced into activity by the approach of the fell sergeant, death. He is no more prompt now than when he stabbed Polonius, and no clearer-headed than when he forged the despatches which sent his treacherous school-fellows to their fate. Without compulsion he cannot act. It is this temper of Hamlet ' s mind, revealed through his soliloquies, which gives dramatic propriety to what would otherwise be a meaningless catastrophe. When a man cannot or will not take the initiative, fate must needs take it for him. In Hamlet the function of soliloquy is to reveal to the reader or listener a nature profoundly impressed indeed by an external event, but not undergoing any essential alteration in the course of the drama. In Macbeth, the central theme is the effect on two sharply contrasted characters of the planning and execution of a crime, and in the case of Macbeth himself this effect, which may be called a complete moral disintegration, is made known almost entirely through the medium of soliloquy. Macbeth seems a man naturally likely, whatever his real moral value might be, to remain out- wardly respectable. At the opening of the play everybody considers him a virtuous and honorable man, and so he clearly considers himself. It is an opinion he is most loath to part with : as his wife acutely remarks, he would not play false, and yet would wrongly win. Yet after the very first hint of temptation from the Weird Sisters his asides show that the supernatural solicitings have fallen on ground already prepared. Wh y do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature ? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man that function Is smothered in surmise. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me without my stir, he assures him- self, but this desire to preserve his own honor intact is overborne by the nomination of Malcolm as Prince of Cumberland. Let not light see my black and deep desires. And presently, after a few words of mutual understanding with Lady Macbeth, and the arrival of Duncan at his castle, he comes in with the famous soliloquy beginning, 85 If ' twere done when it is done, then ' twere well It were done quickly. ... In this speech, and in the still more familiar scene of the imaginary dagger, I fail to discover any of those pangs of true compunction which many critics have seen there. I find a certain shud- dering horror at the magnitude of the intended crime, a very real apprehension of the even-handed justice of this world, and a vague dread, quickly put aside, of the life to come. There is also a great complication of imaginative metaphor, and a constant tendency to swerve aside from the matter in hand. That is all. But while Macbeth is hesitating and conjuring up visions of the consequences, Lady Macbeth has gone straight to the point. The substance of her soliloquies has been a prayer to the spirits that tend on mortal thoughts to unsex her, and give her strength and cru«lty for the deed which she clearly recognizes as the only way to the object of their joint ambition. The deed is done, and Macbeth immediately loses himself in an unnerved horror of his own act. Methought I heard a voice cry ' Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep ' — the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, The balm of each day ' s life, sore labor ' s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature ' s second course. Chief nourisher in life ' s feast. . . . Still it cried, ' Sleep no morel ' to all the house: Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more : Macbeth shall sleep no more. As yet he pours out these thick-coming fancies in the presence of his wife ; hardly addressing her, indeed, yet manifestly seeking support from her direct matter-of-fact treatment of his vagaries. But his own feelings are rapidly becoming the most important things in the world to him. How is ' t with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here ? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes, etc. In subsequent scenes this mood grows on Macbeth. In his next regular soliloquy he is pitying himself for having committed an unprofitable crime. For Banquo ' s issue have I fil ' d my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murdered ; Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and my eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! 86 When Lady Macbeth is with him, he pays less and less heed to her, talks more and more to himself, running over the wearisome round of fear, disquietude of mind, self-pity and envy of his victim because after life ' s fitful fever he sleeps well. Lady Macbeth meanwhile takes the very opposite course. Except for one soliloquy of four lines which shows that her mind is no more at rest than her husband ' s, she gives us no clue to what is pass- ing within her until the sleep-walking scene, the most terrible manifestation that could possibly have been devised of the remorse and horror which have torn her. In the case of a nature like hers ordi- nary soliloquy was inadequate. With her iron will and wonderful nervous energy, she cannot be conceived as suffering herself to brood on the past even in thought, although it has never once left the inmost recesses of her memory. Not a line of her fearful involuntary confession but testifies to days of intense anguish. Part of it is pure physical repulsion, or exhaustion from the long strain of keeping up appearances, but there is more remorse in her shuddering exclamation, The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? than in all Macbeth ' s self-regarding regrets that he has stained his conscience and forfeited honor, love, obedience, troops of friends . So the wicked, heroic woman dies, and her husband, who loved her once, is now so far remoTed from all thoughts of anyone but himself that his sole comment on the news of her death is, She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word. Almost all the speeches of Macbeth in the second half of the play, even when some of his dependents are on the stage with him, are in fact soliloquies. He has become incapable of sustaining human intercourse : he jerks out now and then a few syllables of command to his followers, and sinks back into his own distempered thoughts. He is to himself the one point of reality in a world as distressing, irrational and phantasmagorial as a feverish dream. Out, out, brief candle 1 Life ' s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more : it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. The essential tragedy of Macbeth is already completed : nothing remains but for its physical counterpart to follow : for the poor hunted brute to be brought to bay and die on the sword of Macduff. In this study I have confined myself entirely to the soliloquy of tragedy. The comic soliloquy is a separate and less important genus. The speaker is somehow less alone ; in the lighter sort of comedy he is really not alone at all, but taking the audience into his confidence. Launce, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona, comes in with his dog and describes his parting from his family : 87 . . . . Nay, I ' ll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father — no, this left shoe is my father — no, no, this left shoe is my mother There ' tis : now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand Now come I to my sister : mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this time sheds not a tear nor speaks a word, but see how I lay the dust with my tears I As Lamb says in another connection, This secret correspondence with the company before the curtain (which is the bane and death of tragedy) has an extremely happy effect in some kinds of comedy. Even in the soliloquies of the great humorous characters — Faltstaff ' s catechism on Honor, or Benedick ' s resolution not to marry — there is a sort of appeal to an imaginary listener, perfectly true to the character of th ought in general. When our reflections take a humorous turn, we find ourselves setting up an interlocutor in our own minds, with whom to share the jest. This is a long step from the intensest type of soliloquy, where the thoughts crowd one on another without any conscious effort to give them form. This survey has necessarily touched very lightly on questions worthy of a careful and minute discussion. A paper longer than this might easily be written on the soliloquies in Hamlet alone. Many phases of the subject, too, have been disregarded altogether. Why is it, for instance, that Shakespeare ' s women, with the exception of Juliet and in part of Lady Macbeth, do so little solilo- quizing? Is there some inherent peculiarity in the feminine mind, which makes solitary reflection less natural to it ? Or does this fact signify that after all, in the last analysis, Shakespeare viewed the world with the eyes of a man, not of a woman ? I have tried not to lay undue stress on the importance of soliloquy as a means to the develop- ment of plot and character. The plots of King Lear and of most of the comedies are developed with little recourse to it. And surely Mercutio and Polonius, Hermione and Cleopatra, to choose a few names at random, are not less vividly delineated because they utter no soliloquies. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that Hamlet and Macbeth, the very illustrations selected to prove the supreme value of soliloquy in elucidating character, are more wrangled about than any of Shakespeare ' s other personages. Still, after all these abatements have been made, the fact remains that soliloquy is one of the most valuable of all the implements of the dramatic poet, and that in the use of this implement Shakespeare has surpassed all his rivals as much as in the richness, variety and inherent vitality of his blank verse, the sweetness of his songs, the imaginative power of his figures — in short, in everything. Rita Creighton Smith. 88 Class Histories Class Officers i895- ' 96 Harriet Chalmers Bliss, President, Margaret Ross Putnam, Vice-President, Grace Porter Chapin, Secretary, Mabel Capelle, Treasurer. i896- ' 97 Ethel James, President, Blanche Ames, Vice-President, Ruth Shepard Phelps, Secretary, Elizabeth Warner, Treasurer. 1 897- ' 98 Carrolle Barber, President, Mabel Capelle, Vice-President, Helen Hepburn Patton, Secretary, Amanda Moore Harter, Treasurer. 1 898 99 Blanche Ames, President, Louise Barber, Vice-President, Bertha Cranston, Secretary, Mary Murray Hopkins, Treasurer. 90 vm Of Kwev if Four years ago we came to this place to be the class of Ninety-Nine. We were, many of us, very different girls from those we are to-day, and if these four years have counted for anything, as 1 believe they have, we are a very different class from what we were then. Still we were the class of Ninety-Nine, and we are still, and it ought to be interesting to us, if to no one else, to look back and see the beginnings of us, and to realize, if we can, what these four years have been to us as a class. We all know, or are beginning to guess, what they have meant to us as individuals. We were the first of some things, and the last of others, as every class must be. Still we really stand for more of a transition than some others. We were the first of the hopelessly big classes. Ninety-Eight had given the Faculty a little breathing-space, a little time in which to say, Well, perhaps the college isn ' t going to be such a monster after all, but shrink a little reasonably till it fits its clothes. Then we came, and they have done nothing but hustle for new clothes ever since. On the other hand we were the last of the campus classes. Not that we were all on, by any means, but enough of us were to count as an element in the campus life, and to diffuse the campus spirit more or less through our whole body. The off-campus on-campus fight was not on then. In these days of problem novels and problem plays with their very doubtful solutions, I think we can certainly congratulate ourselves that we were not a problem class. We were not a problem class, and we were not a coddled class. I am not saying anything against the S. C. A. C. W. nor those heroic sacrifices who come up early to meet the Freshmen ; but I am glad that we did not have our dress-suit cases carried for us, and our landladies or matrons introduced to us, nor kind-hearted Juniors told off to comfort us when we were homesick. Home- 91 sickness is like sea-sickness, best fought out alone in the open air ; and a very beneficial experience for the constitution. And Freshmen, like the blind kittens whom they most resemble, do better without too much petting. Time opens their eyes fast enough anyhow. Besides, I believe the non- interference policy on the part of upper classes produces more unity of class feeling among those who are thus driven together for mutual consolation and defence. Speaking of defence brings me to a somewhat delicate subject. I mean our relations with the Sophomores of our Freshman year. Perhaps relations that were so strained would inevitably be delicate, but I think there are peculiar aspects to this case. There are so many extenuating circum- stances on their side, and for ours, after all you can say, one must admit that it is easier to be nice victors than nice victims. However, I think we can safely say that we stood on the whole for a better spirit between the rival classes, and that that spirit has been on the increase since our time. This comparatively unaided and hence independent situation of ours produced another effect which was I believe beneficial. Ninety-Five was the last class that openly patronized a certain attitude, and however much Ninety-Seven talked about their departed idols, and pointed out the vacant pedestals, we did not lend the necessary hand to elevate them thereon. We were fond of Ninety-Seven, we admired them, and looked up to them, but we did not adore them, either collect- ively or individually. Perhaps we were a trifle vain. I dare say we were. What else could be expected after every newspaper in the neighborhood, not to mention all the upper-class girls, had told us a hundred times that ' no Freshman class had ever beaten in basket-ball, ' etc., etc. And strange as it might seem, though that is the first precedent we established, and the one to which we most often refer, it is the only one we are not anxious to have followed. I believe the thing we are most proud of grew out of, or at least received its first powerful impetus in the establishment of that very precedent. I believe that when we all poured down onto the floor of the gymnasium that day, and forgot all about the other classes in our wild enthusiasm and excitement over our own, there came into all our hearts a feeling not all of us had felt before, a feeling of class love and pride and loyalty, which has gone on growing toll now it is truly said of us, that we are the most united class in college. There were of course many other things that contributed to this feeling, some of which have already been mentioned. How much came from the impartial and far-sighted endeavors of those whom we placed over us in authority, we cannot tell. If Freshman year be, as many hold, the most dangerously important to a class, we cannot be sufficiently grateful for the wise and conscien- tious guidance we received. It is interesting, in connection with this, to remember that we grumbled so much as a class at the quality of the Freshman work that the powers that be were seriously concerned as to our loyalty. Some effect of that grumbling we have lived to see in that well-known boast and bore, the rise of the standard. We have taught the authorities that a true friend is the severest critic, and if they ever doubt our loyalty nowadays, why, we ' ll criticise some more. 92 One last, and least, aspect of our Freshmen year, that is repeated now — the Ninety-Nine luck, which brought us a beautiful spring term for our first as for our last year of college. It may seem trivial to speak of such a common-place thing as the weather, yet surely it did mean a good deal to all of us to have that first year of our new life crowned with this truly halcyon experience. I think we all realized then more fully and deeply than we ever had before the beauty and charm of this dear place we had chosen for our four years ' home and the freedom and rare intimacy o f the life we led here. We did not realize then how much that happy, careless life meant to us. Perhaps we do not fully realize now. It was at least the beginning as this is the end. Times have changed, and we have changed with them. There is one thing, however, that we all were then, and still are, an d shall remain, and that is true and loyal members of the class of Ninety-Nine. Clarace Goldner Eaton. 93 L a ¥ r y You remember the flavor of the beverage in the bottle marked Drink me, which Alice found in the White Rabbit ' s house? It was very nice — it had in fact a sort of mixed flavor of cherry tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffy and hot buttered toast. Well, that is somewhat the sort of impression that Sophomore year has left in my memory. And when I think that on me devolves the duty of bidding it stand still and let me try to draw it, I only wish that 1 could be affected by the memory as Alice was by the contents of the bottle, and shut up like a telescope. Some one has said, and I think rightly, that of the four years of the college course Sophomore year is the most individual. It is a period of transition. The class is no longer held together by the necessity of mutual defense against the imputation of Freshness, nor has it yet come to an upper- class sense of responsibility in conducting the affairs of the college. There is indeed a fine heady excitement about finding genuine Freshmen below you, and being able to study the habits of the species from outside, but this is not a particularly unifying sentiment. College life opens out before the individual girl in a fascinating variety of aspects ; she thinks there is no more behind but such a day to-morrow as to-day, and to be college girl eternal ; and in most cases class bonds for a moment relax their hold on her, and she sets about living her personal existence as vigorously as possible. 95 Therefore I find that in recalling to your memory some of the outward events of Ninety-Nine ' s Sophomore year, I shall not to any one of you be telling that year ' s true history, but only giving you a few pegs on which to hang your own reminiscences. I do not feel inclined to lay much stress on the Sophomore reception. Of course it was very pretty, of course it was exceedingly crowded, yet I dare say we might have rather enjoyed it had not the Sophomore prerogative of finding it a bore been so new and precious. Nor, for quite different reasons, need I dwell on the basket-ball game, glorious event though it was. The eulogist of Ninety- Nine at basket-ball can pass with comparative lightness over the Sophomore game. Other classes have won that. Not indeed peculiar to us, yet ever-memorable in the history of that year, is the direful frame into which we were thrown by the discovery that our examinations — and we averaged six apiece — were to be crowded into the space of five days. In vain the choir strove to comfort us by their usual mid-year selection — A thousand shall fall by thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee — which would be so much more reassuring could you be certain it was not meant for the girl at your left. Doubtless it was this reflection which drove us forth on Day of Prayer for what we supposed an innocent frolic in the snow, but what the newspaper clippings which presently began to pour in from New Zealand, Alaska, and South Central Africa delineated as a wild orgy. In bloomers and leggins was the mildest head-line they could find for us. Outsiders must have supposed these our chief articles af apparel, whereas in fact, to judge from a recent course of experience in rehearsals, there are few undertakings more difficult than to induce a girl to put on bloomers. It seems now that we were needlessly concerned over the things said about us. In those unfledged days we still believed that by the utmost circumspection of conduct a college could escape the newspapers. That was before Smith had been arraigned at the bar of public opinion on the charge of praying. But indeed, I cannot help thinking we might have been worse employed that day than in frolick- ing out-of-doors. We might have found an occupation wholly vain, futile, unprofitable for the morrow, destined to be brought to naught. We might have been studying for our English 5b examination. Take us for all in all, we were very happy young people as we struck out boldly along our indi- vidual lines, and domineered not too unbearably over the Freshmen, and chased crickets on the back campus, and looked across from our crowded transept seats in chapel and wondered how it would feel to march down the middle aisle at the head of the procession. We were quite sure in those days that Ninety-Seven was the grandest Senior class that ever had been or ever would be. The first half of this opinion we have seen no reason to change. As for the second half — well, I believe we are all friends here, and as for the class book, it must just bear up the best way it can — Those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart — for I am going to express the solemn conviction that the really grandest class that ever lived, Senior and Sophomore, and Freshman and Junior, too, is the class of Ninety-Nine. Rita Creighton Smith. 96 Junior year is as the Renaissance period of the college course ; it is the era of new learning. With Latin and Mathematics and beginning German we put away childish things, and now find Logic and Economics and Philosophy, real grown-up studies, meeting our delighted gaze. I say Renais- sance period of Junior year in general, for in our own particular case it appeared for a time that we had entered rather upon an era of the Reformation. Under the fostering care of Ninety-Eight the S. C. A. C. W. was become a power in the land, and the ensuing generally Calvinistic atmosphere spread even over the administrative department; and the rigid admonition, Please do not fold this card, suggested that not even the twig was to be bent this year. The word of our righteousness went abroad, and was mutton for the irreverent press of a free country. Now, we had gotten used to being considered a sink of iniquity, to which no right-minded Mrs. Poteat would send her growing girls ; we had gotten used to having it said that we were sunk in social life and debauched with punging and afternoon tea ; the dear public must be amused, we said tolerantly, must have its women ' s colleges to fling mud at. But it was a shock to be told that we had converted fudge-parties into prayer-meetings, and were undergoing a religious revival, morbid, mediaeval and frienzied ! This startled us, and disturbed our friends. Letters began to pour in from godless alumnae who vastly preferred the college to remain in its old pleasant unregeneracy, and implored us to stay just a little bad for their sakes ; every mail brought clippings from news- papers in every quarter of the Journalized world describing our evangelical symptoms, together with advice from anxious parents. 97 But this, too, passed in time, and public opinion evidently changed back during the year. By spring term indeed they seemed to consider us a more profligate lot than ever, for then there came that Voice upon the campus, crying Prepare ye the way of cold water, and sent as we believe through the ministrations of one of our own number, in connection with that glorious work of hers then but in its infancy. And such a corrective was just then especially needed, for already the enervating influence so long dreaded from the aristocratic proximity of Plymouth Hall, was begin- ning to make its sinister self felt, and we were engulfed in all the social evils that go with dinner at night. But perhaps the most vigorous impressions of those early days of Junior year were not so much religious as economic. Shall we ever forget the winsome young Southerner who came and dwelt in our midst? I refuse to make any Moore puns upon his name, but need only remind you of his overweening fear lest we were minded to play horse with him I And then his marvelous talent for turning his back to the black-board while he wrote upon it with his left hand (few could do that as he did I) and depicted by those inevitable right angles the law of diminishing returns. That last, indeed, he illustrated only too well in the end, for his own returns, alas ! are diminishing year by year. But to return to fall term. Ninety-Nine has always been a united class — bless her I but she never really found herself , until the Junior Frolic. Do you remember ? — Oh, 1 am the Ninety-Nine Dragon, Let smaller beasts quiver and quail, Lest I wipe them all out of existence With one mighty sweep of my tail. That noble beast walked abroad in all his pride for the first time that night, and we began to spell Ourselves with a larger capital than ever. Didn ' t we have a good time ! White shirt-waists, Going-to- Jerusalem (who would have missed seeing a future Editor-in-Chief enjoy that noble game ?) and the farce, and the poster cover, and the prize composition and all 1 And who shall criticise, as Ninety-Eight used a little maliciously to do, if at the end of four years of successes like that each of us finds herself such an ardent admirer of all the rest, that collectively it amounts to something almost like conceit ? But what was done 1 wonder with all those ten-dollar fines that were collected from those who were bored that night ? Were they put into roses for Miss Luce ? The second semester came on apace and found some of us embarked on strange seas, for we had elected Philosophy 11. Few of us will ever forget that first recitation. Voluntaristic pan-psychism felled us instantly, and then on our devoted heads was hurled the that which is contained within the what. When we were told that the insane are those who have lost their transcendental unity of apperception, we could not help feeling that it must be a good riddance, and came out only wonder- ng how Ninety-Seven ever passed that second exam. 98 A longer pause on the subject of recitations, were it not one so fraught with sad associations, would lead me to Renaissance History and the difficulties we used to have with the domestic rela- tions of the popes, and those shocking volumes of Beccadelli, of which we were told by a good authority that they were very improper, Dr. Hazen. Or we would dwell on that famous flunk in Miss Hubbard ' s Lit., when one said sadly unprepared , and then with a little encouragement recited the entire remainder of the hour ; or we would recall how in English 9 we strove by an assumption of infallibility to decide on the merits of the war. The war ! That brings us at a bound very near to the goal of Junior year, although at the time we thought .t was taking us far indeed from even the possibility of a Junior Prom. If anything were needed to disprove to our satisfaction the doctrine preached to us last spring by a strange man from a distant university, — the doctrine that legislative assemblies ought to be done away with, — that exceedingly nice class meeting last April must have done it. That afternoon when Number Six rang with our eloquence as we said just what we thought just as hard as we could, and liked each other all the better afterwards, saw a legislative assembly the memory of which we could ill spare. After that, to tell we loved our class were strong, but not half strong enough. We had our Prom, and it was a beauty, but I need not say much about that. It was all said by our guests the next day. Festivities thereafter followed thick and fast. In a week came the Junior-Senior, when the greens with which the Sophomores had laden the Gym. for us, turned it into Sherwood Forest, for Robin Hood and his merry men and sweet Maid Marian and her train. Later in the evening, Twelfth Night, according to Anthony Comstock, was rendered on yonder stage, and Malvolio appeared with his hony-soit-qui-mal-y-penses veiled from the chaste regard of a sensitive Faculty. Knowing the modesty which has characterized our great and glorious class from its youth up, it would ill become me to gloat over the successes of our Junior-Senior. Rather let me quote from the annals of the Ninety-Eight class book at this point. Says their Senior Historian : On May 25 we were the guests of the Juniors. Their celebration in our honor was one of the pleasantest affairs of the kind ever given here, — quite up to the standard of Ninety-Nine ' s enviable reputation In all departments, social and otherwise. Before coming to Commencement let me remind you of that last class meeting, where one of our revered councillors ingenuously owned to having cast for herself the one vote which she received out of one hundred and four; and at which in the pride and joy of anticipative Seniorhood we elected our preliminary Dramatics Committee, entirely omitting to decide whether we were going to have any Senior Dramatics ! Then came Commencement, and again it would better become me to let Ninety-Eight speak for our success as Junior ushers ; but I can produce no documents this time, and can only refer to our own unanimous opinion on the subject. It was a happy time! We had such fun being glad it wasn ' t our funeral. But I had forgot ; that is not a thought to dwell on at this moment, for this time it is. In our lordly way we had promised to furnish Ninety-Nine weather for Ninety Eight ' s gradua- 101 tion, and believed that our unfailing good luck would vanquish for once the damp divinity of our elders. But we reckoned without our host ; the storm-cloud of Ninety-Eight was equal to the occasion, and the rains descended and the floods came and beat upon that church on Baccalaureate Sunday, in a way that the dripping damsels on the decorating committee will not soon forget. But as I say it was a happy time, whether we bare the daisy-chain along beside them while the Seniors greeted Alma Mater , Seniors for the last time ; or toiled at Collation, spilling coffee and salad over our ushers ' gowns, to serve them when they were Seniors no longer. But the best of all was Commencement evening when we marched along the campus green with a gay and festive air, and came into the Gym. to sing ,to the Seniors sitting down to class-supper, — as the Juniors to-night have sung to us ; and then serenaded our dear old Ninety-Seven who were having their supper in Plymouth hilariously enough, since their own season of mourning was passed a year before. And at last, out on the dark campus, as we circled round one after another of our number and sang to her, and then sang to ourselves altogether, then said good-bye for the summer and parted, we felt that after all, the best thing about the Junior year — as about the Junior history — is that the Senior one is still ahead. Ruth Shepard Phelps. 102 It has been said of the class of Ninety-Nine that all its faults and all its virtues can be traced to that memorable victory at Basket ball our Freshman year. I am inclined to think that means simply that our greatest virtue is our perfect unanimity and strong class feeling and our greatest fault our class pride. — May no class ever have a worse failing ! We have been preserved from faction and discord. We have been enabled to work in perfect harmony among ourselves and we have given to our leaders not only our undivided support but our love and confidence. The first thing that we decided to do as a class this year was to reform the behavior of the students In chapel. This was agreed upon at the last class-meeting of Junior year. Ninety-Nine, occupying the front rows, was to be the model for the rest of the college. Not a word should be uttered after the organ began the voluntary, and a procession of reverent and dignified Seniors was to take the place of the columns of former years who had come merrily down the middle aisle chattering with one another. Alas! how small a thing it often takes to turn the sublime into the ridiculous. On that memorable first morning of Senior year, some half-dozen of last year ' s Seniors, back for a visit, took the front row, and led out of chapel. As a result, the underclasses, instead of receiving an Impression of our dignity, saw the column led by six jolly chattering Ninety-Eight girls, followed by two hundred grave, solemn members of Ninety-Nine, and concluded that our seriousness 103 was due to cur disappointment at being deprived of our long anticipated joy of leading out of chape!. We were not to be daunted, however, by cur first failure, and a few days afterward, six of our members, with heads erect and eyes uplifted, fervently singing Fair Smith, passed solemnly down the middle aisle between the rows of admiring and awestruck students. The impressiveness of thai sight mere than made up for our first failure, and now, at the end of the year, the demeanor of the whole body of students in chapel is perfect. Another great victory for Ninety-Nine. As a class, we have borne out the theory presented by one of our number, that The first duty of man is to glorify God and enjoy himself for ever. We have enjoyed ourselves from first to last, but the jolliest of all our good times have been those we have had together. Who will ever forget the Senior Party at the Green Dragon, with the delightful McGibeny Family Concert and the refresh- men ' s of doughnuts and cider ; or the night we rolled hoops on the back campus, when every one joined in, from the members of the basket ball team, who ran with long, even strides, and struck their hoops at regular intervals, down to the editor-in-chief of the Monthly, who hippety-hopped happily along, carrying her hoop in her hand. Happy as we have been, however, our reputation for light-heartedness has far exceeded the truth. President Seelye little knew the facts when he looked on us with pride at the time of mid- years and referred the under classes to us as a model, because of our cheerful, light-hearted way of entering upon our examinations. He would have been surprised if he could have known the horrible visions that had been disturbing our lumbers for a week. Our class president sat there before him pale from a night of agony lest she should bring disgrace on herself and us by flunking an examina- tion that demanded an account of the. calcarious formation of the American Constitution. Another of our members had gone to bed the evening before, not wholly joyful at the thought of the week bsfore her and had miserably spent the n ght going about with a polyp in which to collect the votes for the American Constitution. A third, in her dreams, had pored wretchedly over the question, What character in English History resembles John the Baptist? and in a burst of inspiration had written, The v ives of Henry VIII. No, we never attained the height where we could enter into our mid-year examinations with the zest that is shown in a physical contest, but we can be sure that is the fault of the methods employed by the faculty and if we had been permitted to choose a team to represent us, v e would have gone into them with a joy akin to that of our basket ball games. Ninety-Nine has made herself famous for her unsurpassed nerve and beautiful politeness, which have won for her the admiration of at least one member of the Faculty. Not even a gas globe hurled into our midst and shivered into a thousand pieces of flying glass, had power to startle us from our wonted composure and habitual courtesy. Speaking of our nerve, what other class could boast a member of such force of character as one of ours, who rose in the middle of the night to punish summarily the perpetrator of a practical joke, and from her bedroom window deliberately hurled four handsome alarm clocks into the back campus. Ninety-nine has been wonderfully blessed in its leaders, and the numerous and difficult affairs of our Senior year have been managed with a minimum of friction. However, we were startled one 104 99 Fresaman Class Somg. Tt ' E — Fair Har a d ' Ye Freshmen, rejoicing to numbers and might. Now gladly and proudly inraUoc. And raise us a song thai shall echo afar To the glory of dear Ninety nine All hail to the violet, the yellow, the red ' Foil gladly their banners are seen . Bnt deep in our beam we are all of 115 sure Ny colors so fair as tbc green fc c s. Freshman tear Ralls. Feb. 22, 1896. Ob. wc come iili heads erccl and hearts elate. 1 play Ibe glui ■■ Itet-ball. And to shu N mely eight Thai possibt) they du ao( know it alt It may be thai m green , game, But foi nil you ■ ■ ■ When once you ve seen us playing You 11 admit i« Freshmen get ibere just the sjsm Oh wc W« wrc ,, In .■■ icl , nt. 1 ■,.. hoe May we never cease aspiring May 10 do. 11 1 m.. Mater, we II be always firm Oh «e II gt :,iy every time fcnd the lang . ins we II reform ' Wc 11 maki . id time. An.) tfa hearted take by storm ' ill despise usmuch : . mighty fine ttVC bei neve bei. you, 09 ' ■ Freshman Basket- Ball Game. Marts 21, 1896. lis - ,. Can Try 1. 1 ball. ■ Get ih b Try lu get tbC ball ball, Tiy to get th. I % u re juii o late ' ou ma) ii) to get the ball Get lb but the htile leather ball s n I coming your wjy ' Tly 1. Cei the ball ball. ball. ball. 10 get the ball. Get ibe ball. 98 ' like the ball. Take. lh« ball, ball, b.,11 ball Jui take the ball. Take the b..ll lake the hall. Take the ball. ball. ball. ball. Just take the ball And lake your time ' Do you 1 best And show how vou ..m play — ■ And we ' ll win the day ' ■ ■ ■ . ball. h c a Sophomore tear Rally. Feb. 22, 1897 Tune — Ok w t t. akwkft, uj m) hnti dig gem ' Ob where, oh where, are the mighty prods found ? Ob where, oh where can they be Whose genius and fame thro the classes resound. Ob where can those brainy prods be s If those mighly prods you  ant to find And know where they may be Just gaie al the class of ' ) — Those prods yon will easily see 1 Oh where, oh where, are the great athletes found ' Oh where, oh where, can they be - Who are swift, who are strong who re not easily downed.— Ob where Can those Strong athletes be 1 If th.. e great gymnasts you d like to find And know where thev m Just iosp Li ih Thc re there y u will al I Oh where oh wbel rls found ' Oh where, oh where un l! With their wit and their gfatne S all round — Oh where can ih. rim If those fou d like to find And know where they n |usl gaze .,i ibi AH arc stars, you will east Sophomore Basket. Ball Song. April J. 1897. Tune— Cm m I ' ' . . n-ir rmftr Prepare ' or the ffa) O Freshmen O Freshmen. And play With 1 pfa mores ■ lo the center are Makep. nd Allen A nd our ■ Each one 0! them famed foi y iem sod qi An an ndeed ' Oh Janet will guard l ' he basket. And we kno how she 1 1 I Cheney and Bliss will work then in lo a scientifie way ' Al home we are strong With Ks ■• in I E Merrill And at goal of course Keonard. She s nimble and tall, our dandy old captain, And impossible ■ So throw 0U1 ihc ball, we re ready ijuite ready. Lei the game be fair and clean ' • pOUt best, you grand Ninety Diners t For ' ii. j reen! M w k Junior Frolic. There is a v lass of high degree — Spoken- Tbey vc class spirit and ! Spoken- Jmsi mm. aiut tart ■ For OUCi and all Their color it a royal green— Spokeo— Biteau th.j r, frith ' Oh dear me do ' For they ' re not really fresh at all — Jul full of vim and go ' O Ninety nine. O Ninety nine to you our oog and praise O Ninety nine, O Ninety-nine, we love your winning ways, And to you ever we II be true and claim you a our own We love your standard and your rank, we love your blgb class lone Their tennis piaycrs grace the court- Spoken— And ..Iff tkf) ■ ' ' -■■ D ' They re likewise firfl in other sports— Spoken Well I should think ' They are vtar players every time Spoken— ll. ' i ' ir:. ' . ' . 1 . f r yet. WbeOeer they cater in the nog. they re  ure the prize to get C armt O Ninety nine. O Ninety nine, here s to our athletes stiong ■ O Niocty nine O Ninety nine sing them a stir- ing song ' Our home men and our captain dear, we love them mighty well And with the tenters and the guards, we really are quite swell In lessons, loo. they are the best — Spokeo— Aha ... wtUimi ' Well, I should say ' Then wits and skill they oe er let re?: Spokeo— £ .  uuitfd ■ In every way With fine presidents they have been blest - Spokeo— Da f ant 14 ' Indeed ihey do ' They ve always been so good to ' us. to them we It e er be true Cke ui Ninety -nine O Ninety nine, may joy be al- ways yours ' O Ninety nine, Ninety nine, may blessings And future days reveal to you a record like your past. Fame happiness and good reward, that evermore shall last ' . w f Junior Frolic. Tt s E - ! t ' d ' 1 ru-rt is a Splendid Nmely nine Ninety nine ■ , las-, ■ Its equal n t « L i ha been seen Ninety ' nine. Ninety nine. Ninet) Ninety Ninety Ninety nine. Ninety. Ninety nine In Freshmen year wc made OUI mark. r.e Ninety nine 1 a lark. Ninety Ninety nine von great fame. ■nd every game And now we vc come 10 Junior year. Ninety nine Ninety nine. Our class to us is very dear. Ninety Ninety nine And of this class wc re mighty pro Come lei KS loud Sen or rear Rail . Feb. 22, ISV9 ' Fist-: Oh. Great Green ' ■ ' ig on— What vlass 1S lhat ' Oh. Ninety ome It s evident M 1 Ninety nine. Though there are others ike brothers, . He wiih the Great Green ' . Oh. Purple Cow. Ob Is id of yd low Ob. Robin Redbreast Freshmen Monster drear. In Smith s menagerie. Keep green the memory (if Ninety ome s t ' .reat t ' .reen Dragon Oh Great Green Dragon, we brag 00— Ninety nine t Repeat first m h 1 s day by being told by the chairman of the dramatic committee, that Mr. Mott was coming to train u for our Senior play. We felt for the moment that it had been an awful mistake to put the president of the S. C. A. C. W. at the hand of the dramatic committee, but she proved amenable to reason, and Mr. Young conducted the rehearsal as in former years. The dramatics are especially remem- bered for the effective notices wjth which they adorned the bulletin boards. There was one which appeared the morning after the Junior Promenade, causing surprise and consternation among ou Yale and Amherst friends. It was written in large, bold letters and read, All men must wear bloomers in all mobs to-day. The dramatics committee now rest from their labors. We have given our Senior Play and Commencement is over. It is beautiful and fitting that after all the pleasure and worry, the joy and sorrow of Commencement, we should come by ourselves to-night for one good time together. The class of Ninety-Nine have finished their Senior year and are alumna= of Smith College. Dear old ninety-nine, May she ever live and shine. Harriet Goodrich Martin. 107 Ivy Oration At the other end of my school-days, at the end where I was beginning, I remember that there was always an elusive, unlearnable mass of material in our text-books which seemed to be absolutely without sense or significance and yet in some mysterious way to hold the key to the situation. This mass was labelled definitions, and we regarded them with dislike as those stupid things you have to beg ; n things with. And now this morning, from force of habit, I am going to begin with one of those stupid things, trusting that what follows will at least be not less interesting than some things that followed the school-book definitions. My definition firs t is of the word art as I use it in its broad sense. Art is the result of our attempt to fill up the gap between the world without us and the world within us. If we do not attempt to fill up the gap, it is because we are too stupid or we have lost hope. The result of our attempt may be useful or fine or black art. According to the means, that is the tools, we use and the spirit in which we use them is our grade as artists determined. We go abroad to galleries to see the great things men have worked with stone and paint, and to a World ' s Fair to see their triumphs in mechanical ingenuity and art, and out to the opera to hear what a few black notes on paper combined with human energy of a sort can achieve. While around us, every day are the finest works of art of which man is capable and we recognize them as such scarcely at all. There is an art in relation to which all other arts are simply the dependencies, expressions, side-lights, the tools, an art which cannot be lost though men may set it one side and by preoccupation with their other arts may forget its nobility. It is an art which is triumphantly universal and possible — I mean the art of life. Living itself is the highest expression of art. You may use brushes and oil, or you may use needles and thread or a hammer and trowel, or a stiletto or vocal cords, and you may think that what results is all of art, all that you can produce. But it is not so. The most important art product, the ultimate one for every human being is his own life. Since this is so, a man ' s life should be his paramount artistic object, though the average man in his absorbing interest in the loom, too often forgets to notice what cloth it weaves, and ceases to regard life as an object at all. But it is an object and the highest. Its greatness, if you will pardon a cant phrase, lies in its universality. Some few of us can really paint or write or invent. A minority of us can really appreciate the real painting and writing — 1 omit the many of us who appreciate what we are told we ought to. But the art product of a man ' s life — and that his own, is possible to all. It is not limited to the few initiated. We can all achieve it, — the stupid peasant woman with the scars of her husband ' s lash on her back can be just as truly an artist as Michael Angelo or Shakespeare. Not as great an artist, she cannot be as great, for her tools, however fine the spirit in which she uses them, are meaner things. And to bar out the kind of 113 tools is to bar out culture and genius and whatever gives an uplift to life. But if the peasant woman uses what tools she has somehow to close up the gap between the outer world and the inner, to tune her life to some sort of harmony, she is just as truly an artist as the greatest of us. Moreover while mean tools do not demean the spirit, the wrong spirit can utterly wreck the finest tools. There was Napoleon and there was Jeanne d ' Arc. I know a quiet woman with no gifts, whose life comes nothing short of an inspiring masterpiece and another whose brilliant talents make only a queer little amateurish sketch. Having explained somewhat the idea of men as artists of life I intend now to apply the test to a sort of composite individual, with whom we are all familiar, with the purpose of seeing what grade as artist he takes. There are some seventy millions of us who combine to make this individual, conciously or unconsciously, at all events inevitably, and we are responsible for him. He is evolved by a certain mathematical process and is known as the Average American. The age in which we live is pre-eminently the age of the average man. The country in which we live is his favorite home. Our life and institutions are peculiarly fitted for him as his rise in numbers and power among us would go to prove. Our arts, fine and useful are arts for the average man. He has become the prototype of our civilization, its first fruits. By average man I mean that order which lies between the genius and the grub. He has always been in existence, but until the last century was rather nearer the grub end of the series. Then, he was a partly vicious quite illiterate person, whose function in life was chiefly to be content with what he had and to do as he was bid. He was overruled on every side, by monks, by scholars, by kings. To-day he rules. He grew through the centuries fed on gun powder and printing. Then that heroic falsehood, All men are born free and equal, gave him a spiritual status. Finally to-day he exists the focus of our national life, on the one hand a miracle of progress for the mass of mankind, on the other a usurper of the high places of the genius, who alone can show mankind where to progress. 1 said to-day the average man rules. Let us see what tools he uses and how he rules. In the first place, literally, the average man votes, and his vote counts just as much as the genius ' s and no more than the grub ' s. Since not enough geniuses choose to go farther into politics than this — pos- sibly because of their absence — the burden of governing falls on the shoulders of the average man and we get an average government. If there is a question of the standard of our currency the matter is referred to a body of average men, instead of the ablest financiers in the country, on the favorite Am- erican principle that my opinion is as good as yours. If it is a question of officering and manag- ing an army in time of war, by all means let the average man hold equal place with the genius or even be put over him, on that other principle that the average American with his good education and quick adaptability, can absorb any amount of detail and training in less time — than it takes to destroy a fleet. Some times the average man finds the burden of governing too great for him, and he is willing to drop the role of free and independent voter, and go back to his old state of doing as he is 114 bid, under that combination of most of the worst qualities of both genius and grub, the political Boss It would be unfair, however, not to say that the government of the average man is fairly good, — on the average. So fair, indeed, that he has even at times been seen in the presidential chair. It is in the mercantile world, however, that the average man reigns supreme. His gifts have de- veloped chiefly along that line, and the art to the cultivation of which he has lent his energies and most of his enthusiasm, the art which he has consequently developed to a remarkable degree, is the art of making money. — Why Is this? The desire of the average man is above all to be comfortable. We all desire it, with the doubtful exception of self-made martyrs. But the average man desires it more than anything else. He is willing to be good, he likes to be educated, but he must be comfortable. He wants the good things of this world, and he gets them, to a degree of which his forefathers never even dreamed. And he wants to share his comfort. So his wife and children are the most coddled in the world. More, he shares it with the less lucky geniuses or average men or grubs, and a splendid humanitarian movement is the result. Now the average man is pre-eminently practical and common sense, and he sees that the most practical short cut to comfort is to have much money. So he devotes himself to the art of making it with characteristic vigor, and his life is one long domination of the Useful over the Fine — of Machin- ery over Culture. The Stock Exchange is attended with quite as much enthusiasm as the School of Athens and a rise in wheat creates as great a furore as the rise of a new poet. The trail of the mer- cantile is over him and the remark of a certain visitor that it was as if one long counter extended down our side of the Atlantic sea-board, comes perilously near the truth. Everything must be on a business basis and have a market value, services, and goods, and favors, and characters, and talents. For value given there must be value received. The business-like mercantile balance of give and take invades social life and destroys half the graciousness of living. Mercantilism invades education, and for so much money paid out in taxes or school bills, the schools and colleges must turn out boys and girls who are competent wage-earners. Salary and not more light becomes the ultimate goal. This attitude is well enough for the technical and business school, but when it enters the college and university it is time to cry halt. Mercantilism invades the fine arts and turns them into professions. Men are forced to regard their art as a means of making a living, and to make a living they must take care to suit popular taste. The artist who takes a contract cannot work for art alone. He must have an eye to his employer. Mercantilism has a still more serious charge to answer. It has infected the average man with a most pernicious disease — not the hackneyed greed of gold — it is not money but what money buys that the average man wants. This is another disease but quite as dangerous — namely, Americanitis. Its nature is only too well known — an everlasting state of hurry. Nor night, nor day, no rest. The hurry varies according to geographical location. In New York one walks twice as fast as in Boston, and in Chicago twice as fast as in New York. What will be achieved in Hawaii gives food for much grave thought. Time must be economized in the interests of business. Therefore let us run every machine at the top notch of high pressure, and let us have long distance telephones and labor- 115 saving implements, and short stories, and lightning expresses, and reviews, and reviews of reviews if we must. There is a frantic struggle to be up-to-date. The date used to change about onceayear, but now it is a new date every day. This has brought about a production which looks farther and farther into the future, and affects fashions and Christmas numbers of magazines and the grain a man sows. Since the future is a somewhat uncertain quantity, there results an absurd, a tragic waste of money and energy. All this means competition, competition which ends in cutting some one ' s throat, or in a monopoly. Now it is conceivable that fierce competition flight at times be a noble or even an elevating thing for a race of beings. Competition in honesty, in chivalry, in being artists of life, but the hot struggle for things material, never! This is hardly an aesthetic atmosphere for the average man to live in. It results rather in an atmosphere full of shocks. An atmosphere which encourages glaring advertisements in fair country- sides and factories fringing our loveliest rivers, and homes of an architecture whose chief merit is that it is of wood and cannot last. Real culture must have a gracious leisure, and that element is lacking to the average man. The only real leisure class that we have in America are the women, and the number of this one leisure class seems destined to be indefinitely curtailed. When the average man does allow himself leisure, it is a leisure not of thinking but of being amused or of having his thinking done for him. Therefore the theatres dish up things carefully to tickle his palate. Art is popularized and leveled down to his taste and comprehension, and the country is flooded with cheap copies, chiefly of diluted milk-and-water subjects. He usually estimates art either for its price or else regards it as something useful to put on the mantel and hang on the wall. He does not go to church as much as he did, and when he does he demands shorter sermons. The newspapers are a substitute for the Daily Food for Daily Needs of his grandfathers. The books which he reads in largest quantities are not on the whole of the kind one binds in leather. No — at the end of the year one willingly consigns them to swell libraries for prisons or for homes of the Indigent and Infirm. Since the same amusements do not continue to answer for any long stretch of time — nothing is so pitiful as a thread-bare joke — most of the things produced for amusement are distinctly ephemeral, and when finer arts are twisted simply into pastimes, they too become worthless like spent sky- rockets. So much of what is done can be classed under that apt phrase, books of the day — which to-day is and to-morrow — returns to its original smoke and ashes. Another obvious reason for the ephemeral character of our painting, and writing, and compos- ing, and acting to-day, is not only because these things are done for the average man but because they are generally done by him. This always of course raises the question as to whether art for the average man means the extinction of the genius and the invasion and final conquest of his field by the average man, or whether the genius will simply sleep to wake later. The genius is at present certainly submerged and non-apparent. It is not lack of perspective alone which makes us say there are no giants in these days. „ US I cannot believe however that the average man can kill the genius, that he can permanently reduce mankind to a dead level. I cannot believe that, however high the average man may rise, he will ever rise to more than high mediocrity, that he will ever be able to substitute himself for genius. His present phase is simply another illustration of the old old rule a little learning. When the average man gets his little more of learning and its humility, he will swing around to his proper place in the order of things and give room again to the genius. Such is the average man. I have tried to give the tools he works with, and the spirit he uses them in, and to show that both are so much better than ever before that the average man is in danger of mistaking them for the ideal. But most of us are optimists enough to believe that this is only a transition period from the Average Man nil, through the Average Man tyrannus, to the Average Man discipulus. In conclusion, his life as a work of art is not of a sufficiently high grade to be allowed to domin- ate — to be pointed at as the measure and epitome of our powers. He has created problems which he is not strong enough to solve, and raised questions which he is not wise enough to answer. If he con- tinue to dominate, the genius will rebel against his mediocrity, or if not the genius, the grub assuredly will, and will give us a life without ideals — which is anarchy. Let the average man then look to it that he does not forfeit the birthright of this strong young nation of ours to create of its life a greater masterpiece than the ages have yet seen. Harriet Chalmers Bliss. 117 «U J J m Tfc t.Tne K«« com w ich le e COuld not dt a ,, fli rtTTT tu t h tvwuum H«Sf Stitlfr.vtJ WolM fKc h v€ J MfT t !■•«( vi JiujU { llti ' wj V«i(| t( J,01«(T ' TT f«UJ jij ' J j_ j I I. J... .3 r r i ' [ ' f rf r ' ot ti f ' r-f well i tlov«4 «tn , fctit in fki ho-r TT,t untrnwn Jufu.« call . 3-11 J- rr rifttp We may not linger, but with our regret Is mingled thought of gladness promised yet, And as a living sign Of hopes that stir us, mem ' ries that impel, Here, in the joy and sorrow of farewell, We plant our ivy vine. We leave thee here, fair vine but not alone, Like ivies planted earlier than our own Take root and bravely grow. Be thou the token of our love that clings To all the dear innumerable things That we have come to know. For it is June with us, and other ways Must claim our foot-steps, but in later days Where ' er we may have been, The old glad life shall call us back again And we shall see, woven of sun and rain, Thy time-enduring green. Senior deck Che Winter ' s Cale  THE ACADEMY OF MUSIC— 7:30 P. M. Leontes, King of Sicilia, Mamillius, young Prince of Sicilia Camillo, ' I Four Lords of Sicilia,- Ruth Louise Strickland. Mary Dean Adams. Edith Edwina Rand, Emily Grace Cheney, Gertrude Holbrook Churchill, Margaret Ross Putnam. Antigonus, Cleomenes, Dion, Polixenes, King of Bohemia, Florizel, Prince of Bohemia, Archridamus, a Lord of Bohemia, . Old Shepherd, reputed father of Perdita, Clown, his son, Autolycus, a rogue, A Mariner, First Lord, An Officer, A Neatherd, First Gentleman, Second Gentleman, Third Gentleman, Tinee, as chorus, Hermione, Queen to Leontes, .... Perdita, daughter to Leontes and Hermione. Paulina, wife to Antigonus, .... _ I Shepherdesses. Dorcas, 1 Emil ; a, a lady attending on Hermione, First Lady, ...... Other Lords and gentlemen, Ladies, Citizens, Guards, Pages, herdesses. Ruth Louise Homer. Blanche Ames. Edith Hayward Hall. Bertha Cranston. Janet Waring Roberts. Harriet Coburn. Mary White Bell. Louise Barber. Flora Belle Hall. Mary Alice Smith. Ella Patten Merrill. Edith Winifred Tiemann. Marie Angeline Mohr. Alice Adelaide Knox. . Harriet Chalmers Bliss. Caroline Cheney Hills. Carolyn Howe Reed. ( Marjory King, Marion Strong Somers. Mabel Capelle. Bertha Butler Reeves. Servants, Shepherds, and Shep- Sunday, 7 18 Baccalaureate Sermon REV. L. CLARK SEELYE, D.D., LL.D. First Congregational Church, 4:00 P. M. I ' -jfjfj tffMlli 123 Nil Organ Service College Hall, 7.00 P. M. WiV 1 JVIonday, ' June 19 Chapel Service 9:00 A. M. Xvy Gxercises 10:00 A. M. Society Reunions 4:00-6:00 P. M. Hrt Reception 4:00-6:00 P. M. Glee Club promenade 7:00 P. M. president ' s Reception 8:00-10:00 P. M. X24 Cuesday, ' June 20 Commencement Gxercises ORATION, REV. RICHARD SALTER STORRS, D.D., LL.D. College Hall, 10:30 A. M. Collation Wallace House, 12:00 M. Hlumnae Cea Alumnae Gymnasium, . 4:00-6:00 P. M. Class Supper Alumnae Gymnasium, . 7: 00 P. M. 125 Verse Ode Gdritten for the 2zd of february 1898 Across the dim, dead century, Distinct, alive, he stands, Great founder of great heritage Free given to our hands : — A changeless scale of honor, A record without blot ; The memory of stern sires, who ne ' er Thsir sterner God forgot. Who fought, and formed a nation, Starved, and framed righteous laws, Rose to the height, in death ' s despite. Of living for a cause. Nov , bound with unlicensed freedom ; Weak with the strength of youth ; In the flush of wide possessions. Reverence we lose, and truth. Towering among the nations, Wise in our own conceit, We forget the Strength that made us, Put the Mighty from His seat. Swamped with the dregs of other lands, Corrupted by our gain, Torn, tempest-tost, the future ' s lost, Did not the past remain. But while at records of his toil Our patriot spirits burn; While with unceasing ardor To those old days we turn ; And feel the grandeur of the great, The virtue of the pure, Still, in the honor of its dead, The state remains secure. As to our fathers, God to us, Their staff is yet our rod ; For their good sake, us worthier make, Of it and them, God! Clarace Goldner Eaton. 189 Skating with Betty v Betty ' s pretty cheeks are glowing, Betty ' s sunny hair is blowing, And her saucy eyes are dancing with the rhythm of her feet, Sharply though the wind is scolding, Two soft hands I ' m firmly holding, And within the furry mittens I can feel her pulses beat. Far away the sleigh-bells jingle, Keen the biting north-winds tingle In our faces as the piercing of a thousand fairy darts. We care nought for bitter weather As we fly along together O ' er the river to the music of our gaily beating hearts. Margaret Ewing Wilkinson. Oberon ' s proclamation Primroses, shut away your sweets, And harebells, slowly toll; This elf, to drink my health last night Sipped at a primrose bowl, But drank too deep, — and tumbled, in ! May Heaven rest his soul 1 Grace Walcott Hazard. - R. Cbe Olhect of Cime LAINE, the Saxon maid, in days of old. Wove tapestry with threads of silk and gold ; Or made a braided case with gladsome toil To save her true knight ' s shield from rust and soil. Then Arabella, with a lesser art, Worked on a sampler gay a wounded heart. But nowadays, nor do we think it shocking, Fair Doris knits for Jack a brown golf stocking Annie Elizabeth Fraser. Lullaby to Kitty Purr low, purr-r-r low, Curl up your sweet little tail, dear. And shut tight your lovely green eyes. I ' ll sing a lullaby low, dear, By the light of the fireflies. Purr low, purr low, Away to the land where pussy dreams grow. Purr low, purr-r-r low, Hear the soft sounds in the dark, dear, On your way to the dream-land shore, The whisk of waving mouse tails, dear, The scratch of their feet on the floor, Purr low, purr low, It ' s easy to catch them, they ' re moving so slow. mtf JVIistress parsons Dainty Comfort Parsons in her dress of blue, Oh ! she was a pretty miss for a man to woo ! Hers the cherry lips, and hers the roguish eye. Hers the wicked flirting, causing me a sigh ; But lo! at my scolding, penitent she ' d grow, I ' ll be all yours soon, dear, said she soft and low, Take comfort. Purr low, purr-r-r low, Open your eyes just a crack, dear, By the dream light yellow and pale See shadows of swinging spools, dear, No need now to play with your tail. Purr low, purr low, And soft laps to cuddle in all in a row. Purr low, purr low, You can purr and dream too, dear pussy, you know. Bertha Butler Reeves. Dainty Comfort Parsons with her flying curls, Who would not forgive her, sweetest, best of girls? Standing there so tearful, very sorry, too, Looking like an angel in that dress of blue. Conquered then I soothe her, banish all alarms, And to show good feeling, swiftly in my arms Take Comfort. Virginia Woodson Frame. Verses rose, thou hast veiled with thy petals white Thy heart of.gold from the sunbeams ' light. A priceless treasure lies hid away From the ' gleam and mirth of the laughing day, And never a breeze, tho ' he tries and tries, Can find where the heart of the rosebud lies. But a day will come in the bye and bye, When the prince of the fairies comes riding by, He ' ll knock at thy portals, O rose, and pray That the golden heart may be his to-day. Then the dainty petals with joy are unclasped For the little rosebud has bloomed at last. Carrolle Barber. Birthday 6 e Lullaby Loo O Lullaby Loo goes wandering by When the dusky shadows of evening fall, And the stars have lighted their lamps in the sky, And the owls and night birds begin to call — Te-witt, tee-woo — tee-witt, tee-whoo-oo O Lullaby Loo, O Lullaby Loo! When Lullaby Loo goes wandering by The leaves all fall asleep on the trees! And home to their nests all the little birds fly, Then softly whispers the evening breeze : Soo hoo, soo hoo, O Lullaby Loo ! O Lullaby Loo, soo hoo, soo hoo! Lullaby Loo, as he wanders by, A strange little sleepy song he sings ! That soothes frightened children when they cry, For it tells of the loveliest, cosiest things! And he ' ll sing it to me, and he ' ll sing it to you ! And he ' ll sing to us all, this Lullaby Loo ! O Lullaby Loo, when you wander by Stop at the nursery window to-night ! And sing to us while in our beds we lie, All cuddled up so warm and tight ! O Lullaby Loo, O Lullaby Loo, Sing to us, sing to us, Lullaby Loo ! Gertrude Craven. Black branches drawn against a bar of gold, Vague hills and fields that roll to shadows dim. Bird-calls that cut the silence, clear and cold ; The night is closing in. I wait here by the roadside, praying low, And twenty beads have slipped the rosary down. From out the dusk, pale ghosts come filing slow — The years that now ' are gone. The last half-lingers, smiling faintly yet, Then turns and follows its fleet-footed kin. Over the west hills, where its gold sun set, The night is closing in. Harriet Chalmers Bliss. Che plaint of the Zoologist If you ' re studying zoology, some moist unpleasant morning You hear the Voice of Duty calling plain : Don your walking-skirt and gaiters ; Come to where the crickets wait us In the soggy, sodden leaves and pouring rain. But you find the Voice of Duty has been misinformed entirely : The crickets don ' t await you, as it said. You may search the campus over, Nor a single one discover Save the dead ones, which are very, very dead. Then, for lack of all material, the class expects dismissal, And the damp and weary class does not object. Then you ' re sure to find the teacher Can provide for each a creature, (Though so small it will not properly dissect). When the period is over, and until the week ensuing You don ' t want to hear of crickets any more, The enthusiastic greeting Of a general mass-meeting Salutes you as you pass beyond the door. Then assemble on the campus all the crickets Northampton, They muster every tribe and every clan ; While from Florence — Hatfield — Hadley — Holyoke — they flock in madly, And the Amherst crickets gather to a man. Then if you catch a few of them, and think on grass and water To preserve them till occasion shall befall, They go and die in spasms And it spoils their protoplasms, And they ' re just a little worse than none at all. I am sure that all beginners in the science of zoology Can confirm me from their own unhappy lot, When I say that in these regions There are crickets found in legions, But that when you come to want them, they are not. Rita Creighton Smith. JMistress Sleep I have wooed this little maiden many times, I ' ve endeavored to bewitch her with odd rhymes, I ' ve repeated many stories — Begged, beseeched, implored, and tried Every charm that I could think of, That might lure her to my side. But ' tis all in vain. I fear me This is why I entirely forget her When she ' s by. Amanda Harter. Sympathy Earth, my Mother, let me draw anear thee : Let me lean a moment on thy heart. For a moment let me see thee, hear thee, Know thee, as thou art. Let me give myself into the spaces Where thou sweepest broadly to the sky. Lose myself within thy secret places, Know not I am I. I am fretful : stoop and lull me, dearest, To a larger quiet on thy breast ; Thou art pledged that thou, to all thou bearest, Teach me thine unchanging toleration, Givest some day rest. Deep and clear-eyed love. Teach to hold the truth I rise to, longer, Lest a moment mar my life ' s design. Love I know, but teach me to be stronger, Earth, dear Mother mine I Rita Creighton Smith. Some day thou wilt take me, ay, and hold me, Close the eyes that vainly ached to see, Clasp me in thy strong warm arms, and fold me, Very close to thee. Some day thou wilt still my heart ' s fierce beating To a surer unison with thine. This shall be, I know, but why the waiting Till Death give the sign? Take me now to this our true relation Ere Death draw me from the light above : Che Green Dragon Oh, I am the ' 99 Dragon ! Let smaller beasts quiver and quail ; 1 can wipe them out of existence With one single swish of my tail. 1 hesitate not to encounter The ' 98 Tigress at bay; I draw in my claws with compassion, And quietly brush her away. If I meet with the ' 00 Bull-dog, Who feels over big when he barks, 1 open my mouth to surprise him, And send forth a shower of sparks. The Freshmen, my dear infant dragons, 1 cuddle them under my wings; 1 show them their claws are to scratch with, I teach them a number of things. ' Tis only the Faculty Gorgon Whose voice turns my brazen cheeks pale; The scales on my back rise before him, I fearfully fold up my tail. For I am the ' 99 Dragon ! Let smaller beasts quiver and quail; Lest I wipe them out of existence With one mighty stroke of my tail. Bertha Butler Reeves. future Hddresaes Abbot, Helen Munro, Adams, Mary Dean, Adler, Carolyn, Aitkin, Isobel Graham, Allen, Abby Louise, Ames, Blanche, Andrew, Helen Merrell, Austin, Clara Mellona. Ballou, Marie Louise, Barber, Carrolle, Barber, Louise, Barkwill, Margaret Childs, Barlow, Lola Delphine, Bates, Ellen Coalter, Bates, Edith Wright, Beane, Elizabeth Silsbee, Bedell, Elizabeth Caroline, Bell, Caroline Stowell, Bell, Mary White, . Benham, Cora May, Bixby, Alice Martin, Bixby, Mabel Symonds, Blair, Margene, Bliss, Harriet Chalmers, Booth, Myra Budlong, Boynton, Carolyn Adelia, Brackett, Georgianna May, Burrage, Edith May, Buzzell, Edith Virginia, Capelle, Mabel, Carpenter, Winifred Gillett, Chamberlin, Louise, 190 Maple Ave., Zanesville, O. Lowell, Mass. 26 South Clinton St., Rochester, N. Y. 45 Pearl St., Thompsonville, Conn. Walnut St., Newton Highlands, Mass. 333 Andover St., Lowell, Mass. 1002 Indiana Ave., La Porte, Ind. Barton Landing, Vt. 16 Harris Ave., Woonsocket, R. I. 612 Rialto Building, Chicago, 111. 612 Rialto Building, Chicago, 111. 739 Genesee Ave., Cleveland, O. 89 Bristol St., New Haven, Conn. 3522 Washington Ave., St. Louis, Mo. 14 Fruit St., Northampton, Mass. 6 Harris St., Newburyport, Mass. 118 Elm St., Montclair, N. J. 191 Park St., West Roxbury, Mass. 1 17 Jackson St., Lawrence, Mass. 509 Fullerton Ave., Chicago, 111. 45 Sumner St., Salem, Mass. 45 Sumner St., Salem, Mass. Binghamton, N. Y. 138 South St., Pittsfield, Mass. 36 School St., Pawtucket, R. I. Florence, Mass. 908 Charlotte St., Kansas City, Mo. Lancaster, Mass. Wakefield, Mass. 906 West St., Washington, Del. Torrington, Conn. 3119 Lucas Ave., St. Louis, Mo. 145 -r Chamberlin, Mary Louise, Chapin, Grace Porter, Chase, Allace Corbettf—  • Cheney, Emily Grace, Childs, Mary Chaffin, Chittenden, Edith Russell, Choate, Miriam Foster, Churchill, Gertrude Holbrook, Clark, Helen May, Clough, Etta Louise, Coburn, Harriet, Coe, Miriam Storrs, Cook, Elizabeth Christine, Crandon, Laura Bishop, Cranston, Bertha, Craven, Gertrude, Darling, Ethel Maria, Demond, Helen Keyes, Dering, Charlotte Ray, Dodge, Anna Marion, Dow, Florence Estelle, Drury, Miriam, Duggan, Mary Elizabeth, Eastman, Emma, Eastman, Fanny Mears, Eaton, Clarace Goldner, Ellis, Edith Almira, Fairbank, Mary Darling, Forte, Eva Sophie, Frame, Virginia Woodson, Fraser, Annie Elizabeth, Ganong, Susan Brittain, Gilman, Ethel Sears, Goldsmith, Gertrude Brown, Goldthwait, Eleanor Rand, Goodnow, Mary Edith, Goodwin, Sarah Elizabeth, Goodyear, Anna Lyman, 307 Wooster St., Marietta, O. 150 Congress Ave., Providence, R. I. Randolph, Vt. So. Manchester, Conn. Newton, Mass. 83 Trumbull St., New Haven, Conn. Greenwich, Conn. 146 Crafts St., Newtonville, Mass. Kingston, R. I. 281 West Hampden St., Holyoke, Mass. 275 Andover St., Lowell, Mass. 42 W«st 52nd St., New York, N. Y. 36 Phillips St., Northampton, Mass. 30 Bellingham St., Chelsea, Mass. Newport, Del. 402 Front St., San Francisco, Cal. Thompsonville, Conn. 8 Bacon St., Warren, Mass. 124 47th St., Chicago, 111. Woodstock, Vt. 4440 Ellis Ave., Chicago, 111. 18 West St., Worcester, Mass. 406 Main St., Hartford, Conn. 260 Summit Ave., St. Paul, Minn. North Amherst, Mass. 80 Vandeventer Place, St. Louis, Mo. 50 Prospect St., Woonsocket, R. I. Hatfield, Mass. 37 Sherman St., Springfield, Mass. 801 Hall St., St. Joseph, Mo. 1426 North Pennsylvania St., Indianapolis, Ind. St. Stephen, New Brunswick, Canada. 9 Baldwin St., W-orcasler, Mass. . Manchester, Mass. . Marblehead, Mass. Box 78, South Sudbury, Mass. Peacedale, R. I. North Haven, Conn. 146 -i Greenman, Mary, Gunderson, Lily Elnora, Hall, Edith Hay ward, Hall, Elizabeth Newcomb, Hall, Flora Belle, Harris, Bertha Marie, Harter, Amanda Hasbrouck, Gertrude Marie, Hastings, Bertha Almenia, Hastings, Ethel Deane, Hayes, Hope Beatrice, Hazard, Grace Walcott, Heath, Lucie Florena, Hill, Alice Wilbur, . Hills, Caroline Cheney, Hills, Jane Reed, Hitchcock, Florence Weller, Hoag, Mary Stirling, Hollinger, Georgie Anna, Homer, Ruth Louise, Hopkins, Mary Murray, Huntington, Ruth Marian, Isola, Margherita, James, Ethel, Judson, Mary Eunice, Keith, Roberta McGee, Keller, Helen Rex, Kelly, Edith Amanda, Kennard, Mary, Ketchum, Florence, Keyes, Mary Willard, Kimball, Alice, King, Marjorie, Klock, Eunice Pearl, Knox, Alice Adelaide, Kotzschmar, Dorothea, Lane, Harriet Belle, Lang, Isollne Louise, 168 Laurel Hill Ave., Norwich, Conn. 269 Walnut St., Holyoke, Mass. Woodstock, Conn. 37 Eighth Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. Bristol, Conn. 917 Maine St., Racine, Wis. Canton, O. 69 State St., Bristol, R. I. Palmer, Mass. Chicopee St., Chicopee, Mass. 35 Kensington Ave., Northampton, Mass. Catskill, N. Y. 593 Summit Ave., St. Paul, Minn. West Newton, Mass. Amherst, Mass. 47 Main St., Hartford, Conn. 21 Bardwell St., South Hadley Falls, Mass. Titusville, Pa. Kansas City, Mo. 4409 West Morgan St., St. Louis, Mo. 350 Washington Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 734 Adams St., Sandusky, O. Waban, Mass. 226 Gates Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 13 High St., Thomaston, Conn. 2415 Independence Ave., Kansas City, Mo. 235 Forest Hill St., Jamaica Plain, Mass. 254 Newbury St., Boston, Mass. 30 Chestnut St., Boston, Mass. 32 Mount Morris Park, West, New York City. The Ark, Jaffrey, N. H. 16 Montagne St., Providence, R. I. 80 Putnam St., West Newton, Mass. . 155 Main St., Oneida, N. Y. Care Rev. C. E. Knox, Bloomfield, N. J. 8 Walker St., Portland, Me. 31 Sargeant St., Springfield, Mass. . 163 North Pearl St., Brldgeton, N. J. H7 y M Leonard, Lois Angie, Lincoln, Alice Velma, Lincoln, Kate Leland, Lindquist, Lily, Lyman, Mary Alice, Lynch, Alice Allen, . Makepeace, Helen Eva, Marcy, Annie Maude, Martin, Harriet Goodrich, May, Margaret Elisabeth, McAuley, Millie Gordon, McClintock, Alice, . Merchant, Helen Burnham, Merrill, Bertha Alice, Merrill, Ella Patten, Mitchell, Nellie Louise, Mohr, Marie Angeline, Montgomery, Georgina Gardiner, Moore, Alice Gertrude, ossman, Grace Ethel, Moulton, Susy Pressy, Mynter, Agnes, Nelson, Mary Blanchard, Palmer, Leila Madge, Parry, Frances Camp, Patton, Helen Hepburn, Perkins, Alice Choate, Phelps, Ruth Shepard, Porter, Anna Goldthwaite, Pulsifer, Mary Gilman, Putnam, Margaret Ross, Putney, Ellen Clement, Putney, Edith Nichols, Rand, Edith Edwina, Ray, Elizabeth Chesson, Read, Carolyn Howe, Reeves, Bertha Butler, Rice, Frances Electa, Cheshire, Mass. Brunswick, Me. Wollaston, Mass- Care Mathilda Lofstrons, Gotnenburg, Sweden. Lakeville, Conn. 420 South Market St., Canton, O. . Springfield, Mass. 103 Ocean St., Dorchester, Mass. 9 Silver St., Westfield, Mass. 146Tappan St., Brookline, Mass. Windsor Locks, Conn. Denver, Col. 34 Pleasant St., Gloucester, Mass. 39 Abbott St., Lawrence, Mass. Farmington, Me. 3 Pleasant St., Quincy, Mass. 179 Jefferson St., Kansas City, Mo. 194 Sargeant St., Holyoke, Mass. Box 822, Chicopee, Mass. 15 Bluff Ave., Fitchburg, Mass. 10 Wall St., Salem, Mass. 566 Delaware Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. West Acton, Mass. 305 Fulton St., Brooklyn, N. Y. 811 Wood St., Wilkinsburg, Pa. 1612 Summer St., Philadelphia, Pa. 25 Church St., Salem, Mass. 2323 Park Ave., Minneapolis, Minn. 155 Ocean St., Lynn, Mass. Care Mr. W. E. Pulsifer, 93 Fifth Ave., N. Y. 388 Essex St., Salem, Mass. Baldwinsville, Mass. Everett, Mass. 88 South Los Robles Ave., Pasadena, Cal. Florence, Mass. 75 West St., Northampton, Mass. 25 North Pearl St., Bridgeton, N. J. Berlin, Mass. 148 Richards, Marian Edwards, Ridenour, Ethel Baker, Riley, Martha Bird, Ripley, Nettie Melville, Roberts, Janet Waring, Ross, Adeline Rebecca, Russell, Alice Symmes, Santee, Eloise Bentley, Sargent, Ida Frances, Seward, Katharine, Seymour, Mary Hyde, Shepherd, Ella Bradley, Silsbee, Margaret Burnet, Sinclair, Lucy Evelyn, Slocum, Caroline Fonda, Smith, Mary Alice, Smith, Rita Creighton, Somers, Marion Strong, Southworth, Mary, Spencer, Ella Briggs, Springer, Ada, Stanton, Emily Irish, Steele, Elisabeth Sumner, Stetson, Jane Witter, Stockton, Harriet Sarah, Strickland, Ruth Louise, Tiemann, Edith Winifred, -Tillinghast, Mary Elmer, Tobey, Grace Baxter, --Tomlmson, Edith, Tomlinson, Emilie Curtiss, Torr, Mary Dykeman, Towne, Anna Mae, . Tufts, Lucy Runey, Ufford, Mabelle Morris, Vance, Martha Tenney, Warner, Elizabeth, Warner, Lucy Hunt, ■r 137 Edwards St., New Haven, Conn. 1416 East 8th St., Kansas City, Mo. 109 South St., Northampton, Mass. Hingham Centre, Mass. Yonkers, N. Y. 18 South Main St., Rutland, Vt. 30 Main St., Winchester, Mass- 65 Main St., Hornellsville, N. Y. 155 Clifton St., Maiden, Mass. 416 Main St., Orange, N. J. 79 Elm St.. Northampton, Mass. 7 Conant Ave., Gloucester, Mass. 1328 Hollywood Ave., Chicago, 111. 817 Main St., Racine, Wis. Ill Front St., Milton, Pa. North Brookfield, Mass. Thomaston, Me. Cor. Corey and Salisbury Roads, Brookline, Mass. 156 Lincoln Avenue, Salem, O. 83 Front St., Holyoke, Mass. 50 West 94th St., New York City, N. Y. P. O. Box 611, Pasadena, Cal. 27 Clark St., Hartford, Conn. 67 Bedford St., New Bedford, Mass. 436 Franklin St., Buffalo, N. Y. Carthage, N. Y. 530 West 123rd St., New York. . Hope Valley, R. I. 2732 Calumet Ave., Chicago, III. 283 Heath St., Roxbury, Mass. Woodbury, Conn. 1115 Broadway, Logansport, Ind. West Gardner, Mass. Lancaster, Mass. 504 Winchester Ave., New Haven, Conn. 64 Green St., Northampton, Mass. Salisbury, Conn. 73 South St., Northampton, Mass. 149 Webb, Ethel Moulton, West, Ethel Hebard, Westinghouse, Harriet Anna, Wheeler, Frances Elizabeth, White, Maude Lucy, Whitman, Sarah Nason, Wiggin, Deborah Allen, Wilcox, Florence Edna, Wilkinson, Margaret Ewing, Wilson, Jane, Winchester, Florida Morse, Woodruff, Helen Lucy, Workman, Mabel Hyde, Brunswick, Me. 338 Newtonville Ave., Newtonville, Mass. Edgewood Park, Allegheny Co., Pa- Uxbridge, Mass. 312 Woodward Ave., Kalamazoo, Mich. 95 Lawrence Ave., Dorchester, Mass. 154 Mountain Ave., Maiden, Mass. 91 Addison St., Chelsea, Mass. Kirkwood, Mo. 55 Washington St., Winchester, Mass. 5 Laurel St., Holyoke, Maes. Mount Carmel, Conn. 164 Pearl St., Torrington, Conn. 150 COPELAND ' S BAZAAR Always has a large and choice variety of LACES, GLOVES, RIBBONS, FANS AND NOVELTIES As well as FLAGS, BANNERS AND PILLOWS Made to order • • E. P. COPELAND . ■ ... 104 MAIN STREET • ESTABLISHED 1769 . Kingslevs Prescription Pharmacy 140 MAIN STREET, NORTHAMPTON, MASS. We cater to those who appreciate the Best to be had in Drugs, Chemicals, and Medicines. PRESCRIPTIONS A SPECIALTY •• At Kingsley ' s, you can wait for a car, consult the Directory, Buy Postage Stamps, make yourself at home and be, at all times, pleasantly served .... Agency for .... HUYLER ' S NEW YORK CANDIES .... .... ROGER GALLET PERFUMES AND SOAPS The Finest Ice Cream Soda and Fruit Ices are served at Kings- ley ' s, every day in the year. ....... CHARLES B. KINGSLEY THEODORE B. STARR, 206 FIFTH AVENUE, MADISON SQUARE, NEW YORK. Diamond Merchant, Jeweler and Silversmith The attention of buyers and visitors is invited to a singularly complete and unique stock of articles in . . . SOLID SILVERWARE . . . Both large and small. Also to a rare collection of the choicest Jewels, mounted in exclusive designs entirely new this season, and appropriate for . . . WEDDING AND ANNIVERSARY GIFTS . . . Special designs also furnished. FIRST FLOOR — Jewelry, Diamonds, Pearls and Precious Stones. SECOND FLOOR — Solid Silverware, original a id exclusive designs, Fine Stationery and Engraving. THIRD FLOOR — Bronzes by French and American artists ; the works of Fred McMonnies are to be seen only in these galleries. THE NOTMAN PHOTOGRAPHIC CO. 3 PARK STREET, AND 384 BOYLSTON STREET BOSTON ALSO 1286 MASSACHUSETTS AVE., CAMBRIDGE CLASS PHOTOGRAPHERS FOR SMITH ' 99 ' QQ ' OO OI 02 T0 EACH STUDENT OF THE OLD ; ; ' AND THE NEW CENTURY .... 279 MAIN ST., NORTHAMPTON, MASS. r .... BRIDGMAN ' S BOOK SHOP Se . ndsG tin « Special price on all Text Books used in College. MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS — a large and valuable assortment FINEST STATIONERY. Address cards furnished at BRIDGMAN ' S COLLEGE BOOKSTORE 108 MAIN STREET MAKiNG FUR GARMENTS AND TAILOR MADE SUITS FOR THE COMING SEASON That is what we like to do now while there is a lull in the rush of orders for the Fall season. These orders receive a bit more attention than those that come liter when everyone wishes something made at once. Place your orders for Fall Wraps before you need the goods. We can show you the latest Fall Styles and Materials, and your garments will be ready when you want them. Fur Garments Remodeled and Repaired All Work Done by Experienced Workmen Lady Attendant A. HERD— LADIES ' TAILOR AND FURNISHER 182 STATE STREET, ROOMS 17-19, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. Frank E. Davis . Jeweler and O pTlclA N 164 MAIN STREET NORTHAMPTON, MASS. MAIL ORDERS FROM ALUMNAE SOLICITED GRADUATION AND WEDDING GIFTS. Special Preparation Has Been Made This Year to Have a Large Display of Articles of Unusual Merit at Moderate Prices. The Sterling Silver Department offers a beautiful line of the New Gray Sash and Stock Clasps at $1.85 to $1 l.oo, and a multitude of novelties, in personal and table pieces at remarkably low prices. Brilliant Cut Glass Bon-Bon Dishes, Vases, etc., at $2.35 and upward. Handsome all Silk Black and Colored Umbrellas with odd Natural and Sterling Mounted Handles at $3.28. In Art Pottery, Vases, Plates, Dishes, etc., are many new dainty pieces of famous makers from $3.00 to $5.00. The new Mahogany Room, on the second floor, where Bronzes, Marbles, Sterling Silver Table Ware, odd pieces of Furniture, etc., are shown, is well worth a visit, and we cordially invite all. importer - - CHARLES HALL - - retailer, 393-395 MAIN ST., - - - SPRINGFIELD, MASS. THE CHAS. H. ELLIOTT CO. S. W. BROAD AND RACE STS., PHILADELPHIA. COMMENCEMENT INVITATIONS AND CLASS DAY PROGRAMS. MENUS AND DANCE PROGRAMS. CLASS ANNUALS AND ARTISTIC PRINTING. AMERICAN MEN OF LETTERS. Biographies of distinguished American Authors. Edited by CHARLES DUDLEY Warner. Each volume, with Portrait, i6mo, gilt top, $1.25 ; half morocco, $2.50. Washington Irving. By Charles Dudley Warner. Henry D. Thoreau. Bv Frank B. Sanborn. J. Fenimore Cooper. By T. R. LOUNSBURY. Ralph Waldo Emerson. By DR. O. W. HOLMES. Nathaniel Parker Willis. By Henry A. BEERS. William Cullen Bryant. By JOHN BIGGI.OW. George William Curtis. By Edward CARY. Noah Webster. By HORACE E. SCUDDER. George Ripley. By O. B. Frothingham. Margaret Fuller Ossoli. By T. W. HlGGlNSON. Edgar Allan Poe. By GEORGE E. WOODBERRY. Benjamin Franklin. By JOHN B. McMaster. William Gilmore Simms. By WILLIAM P. TRENT. Bayard Taylor. By A. H. SMYTH. These volumes are very valuable and full of interest. They undoubtedly will do much to encourage an interest in Am- rican literature, and to stimulate a desire to know about it and its authors. — GEORG ge Willis Cooke. Sold by all Booksellers. Sent, postpaid, by HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN CO. BOSTON. Class Pins and Rings, Medals, Prize Cups, etc. f )UR special productions bear theim- ' press of individuality, appropriate- ness and artistic merit. Prices as low as is consistent with highest quality and workmanship. J. E. CALDWELL CO. Diamond Merchants, Jewelers, silversmiths, Importers of Art Objects. 902 CHESTNUT STREET PHILADELPHIA. THE FISK TEACHERS ' AGENCIES. 4 Ashburton Place, Boston. 156 Fifth Avenue, New York. 25 King Street, West, Toronto. 1041 32nd St. Washington, D. C. 378 Wabash Avenue, Chicago. sasStimson Block, LosAngeles. 73oCooper Building, Denver. 414 Century Bldg., Minneapolis. 420 Parrott Bldg., San Francisco. Send to any Of above addresses for Agency Manual, FREE. EVERETT 0. FISK CO. BOOKS, STATIONERY AND ART. We have 30,000 select books, right on our shelves and carry the best grades of fine sta- tionery as well as pound papers. Our Art Gal lery is the finest in New England outside of Boston. You are cordially invited to make us a visit when in Springfield, Massachusetts, or write when in im- mediate need. HENRY R. JOHNSON. EMPIRE STEAM LAUNDRY . . . COURT STREET . . . NORTHAMPTON DREKA FINE STATIONERY AND ENGRAVING HOUSE, i!2i Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. College Invitations Stationery Programmes Banquet Menus Fraternity Engraving Wedding Invitations Reception Cards Monogram and Address Dies Coats of Arms Visiting Cards HERALDRY AND GENEALOGY. COATS OF ARMS PAINTED FOR FRAMING. . . CHARLES BECKMANN CHOICE CONFECTIONERY AND ICE CREAM. NORTHAMPTON, MASS. Cor. Main and Masonic Sts. DUNLAP SAILORS WATERHOUSE NECKWEAR LADIES ' COLLARS ..AND.. HANAN SON New York Shoes ...at... ROSS ' SHOE .... STORE. LUCIA ' S ART STORE . . . We make a specialty of Pictures and Frames, Engravings, Etchings, Photo- graphs, Water Colors, Platinum Prints, Copley Prints, Unmounted Photo- graphs, c. Artists ' Materials. Fancy Goods. GEO. N. LUCIA, 220, Main St. This Store Seeks no Trade at the Expense of Good Will Anything poor, sure to cause dissatisfaction, finds no representation in these stocks; it is a great deal to have you know that you get only good things at Forbes Wallace ' s. High prices are equally out of place here ; the reputation of fair dealing is worth more than profit. But these virtues are all for business of course. Success comes with good service and fair dealing; more success the more you make good service and fair dealing an art. Let us see: Good service consists of getting the p roper goods at the proper time, the bringing from anywhere in the whole world the beautiful, the substantial, the serviceable, the useful, having them ready when wanted, and making every facility for easy and convenient trading; fair dealing means, the using of every honest resource at command to secure the goods at the lowest prices, effecting every saving in the bringing of the goods to headquarters, being satisfied with a reasonable profit and finally passing them on to the customer at fair prices, and guaranteeing satisfaction. Your money back, if when you get home you ' d rather have it than what you got for it. — Is the corner stone of this business. Main, Vernon and Pynchon Streets. FORBES WALLACE Springfield, Mass. MRS. M. DAVIS . . . MILLINERY . . . The Largest and Most Stylish, and Complete Stock of Millinery in the City. A large and complete line of Trimmed Hats and Bonnets at all prices from $3.00 to the most expensive. Satisfaction Guaranteed. 10 per cent discount to College Girls. 38 VERNON STREET, v. SPRINGFIELD, MASS. BARR, CATERER SPRINGFIELD, MASS. Estimates for First Class Work. PRINTERS DESIGNERS STATIONERS. METCALF COMPANY . . Near City Hall . .. NORTHAMPTON, MASS. College Work a Specialty. Our Samples are Numerous. TELEPHONE I 7Q-V C. H. BOYDEN ICE CREAM and LUNCH PARLOR -O O 197 MAIN ST., NORTHAMPTON, MASS. E. B. EMERSON CO. Wholesale and Retail Dealers in PAPER HANGINGS, PAINTS, OILS, GLASS, ETC. DECORATING AND FRESCOING A SPECIALTY 267 MAIN STREET NORTHAMPTON, MASS. THE NEW NORWOOD E. F. HUEBLER, Prop. FRANK P. WOOD, Mgr. Finest location in Connecticut Valley Entirely new management Table and service the best Open the year round NORTHAMPTON. MASS. SCHILLARE ' S ART STUDIO k high grade work only PHOTOGRAPHY IN ALL ITS BRANCHES GROUPS AND DRAMATICS A SPECIALTY ALL WORK GUARANTEED 1899 The class of ' 99 so deservedly popular have won for themselves the esteem of the community and the most unbounded respect of this store. When they leave us their merry laugh and cheerful faces will be missed. However, there is no question about it, while they are passing through the journey of life many pleasant recol- lections of the jolly times they have had in . . . GRAND OLD SMITH . . . will present themselves, especially the days, hours and minutes when they were having a jollification on the campus. We most heartily wish them Bon Voyage and hope they will have pleasant remembrances of this establishment. As we try to please all our customers, so have we done for you and have made you prices that secured you as customers. The millinery department has been the center of attraction and made much of its popularity through the patronage of the College Girls. Our glove and hosiery department also has had its own share of patronage, and our Foreign Wash Goods department is more popular than ever. Finer lines or handsomer styles are not shown. To the entering class we would say: — we hope the same qualities of goods that appealed to the graduating class will also please you. A. McCALLUM CO. (3 EAVES (OSTUME CO. 63 EAST 12th STREET, NEW YORK ? EVERYTHING NECESSARY FOR AMATEUR THEATRICALS, OPERAS, ETC., FOR SALE OR RENT AT LOWEST PRICES. fi ? fi ESTIMATES FURNISHED FOR COLLEGE GOWNS AND CAPS THE BAILEY, BANKS BIDDLE COMPANY CHESTNUT AND TWELFTH STREETS PHILADELPHIA CLASS PINS BADGES SOCIETY STATIONERY, JEWELRY IN THE LATEST FASHIONS REQUISITES FOR THE TOILET, ETC. PATRONS MAY FEEL CONFIDENCE IN THE GOOD TASTE OF ALL ARTICLES FURNISHED BY THIS COMPANY .... MAIL INQUIRIES PROMPTLY ANSWERED PRINTING That shows a touch of art is worth at least twice as much as plain printing. It is certain to interest both the artistic mind and the inartistic. It hits twice where ordinary work hits once. It is our business to put art on paper with a printing press. The artistic touch we give the work raises it above the plane of ordinary printing. Cor- respondence invited. THE BRYANT PRESS, FLORENCE, MASS. DUNLAP ' S 5th AVE. STRAW HATS FOR LADIES LADIES ' NECKWEAR. MEN ' S GOLFING SCARFS IN SMALL SIZES FOR LADIES ' WEAR Springfield agents for the Willie Dunn Golf Sticks THE - — — NORTHAMPTON ART STORE NEXT TO FIRST CHURCH THE ONLY PLACE IN TOWN DEVOTED EXCLUSIVELY TO PICTURES and PICTURE FRAMES L. R. CHEW, Manager LAMBIE ' S DRY GOODS HOUSE STOCK AND TRIMMINGS FOR GRADUATION GOWNS DIMITIES, ORGANDIES, SWISS LAWNS, INDIA SILKS, CHIFFON, RIBBON, TRIMMINGS, GLOVES AND REAL LACE HANDKERCHIEFS. J. E. LAMBIE CO. FANCY GOODS AND MATERIALS OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS CHAS. N. FITTS WE HAVE A COMPLETE STOCK OF FURNITURE, RUGS, DRAP ERIES, ETC. OF THE LATEST PATTERNS AND FINISH AT SPECIAL RATES TO STUDENTS You are cordially invited to inspect a very large and careful selection of reproductions from Famous Paintings E. A. WALTON CO. SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 18 and 20 Fort Street, North of Post Office High Class Pictures and Frames