Wilson College - Conococheague Yearbook (Chambersburg, PA)

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C ON o Q 0 Wzmgygg. Cxlj-EA G Ueggiii f or A LEGEND OF THE CONOCOCHEAGUE HERE is a tinkling of little bells and a rattling of light silver bracelets. A slender, dark Indian girl stands on the banks of a bright stream. A cloud half covers the moon, but its pale light falls on her long, flowing tresses and reveals an angry light glowing in her black eyes. I-ler low voice rises softly in slow and deliberate accents above the ripple of the waters: The anger of Manito rest upon the pale-faces! Long have we watched these strange people sweep over the woods and valleys. Our hearts have burned with anger. The face of Manito has been hidden from us. We have been left in darkness. They have come nearer, nearer up to our very council-fires, they have drunk of the pure water of our stream. Now they have driven us away from the home of our ancestors, scattered us like broken herds of deer. Strange moccasins tread our woods. Pale-face girls play where once our fires burned. The Great Spirit has turned away from us. No longer do we have a homeg on and on we must wander like the hunted stag. Justice is master of the redskin. We will be avenged. The pale-faces must suffer. They have driven us away from the forests of our ancestors. They tear out our very hearts. No more shall we harken to the ripple of the waters. No more shall we lie by the banks of the Gonococheague, listening and learn- ing of the mysteries of life. The pale-face shall pay. The Great Spirit is just. I will implore his aid: lVIanitol hlanitol lVIanitol Thou art great, thou art good, thou art wise, lXfIanitol hflanitol Thou art justg lvlanitol lVIanitol Nlanitol I am weak, thou art strongg I am slow, Give me aid! The pale-face is- master of our beloved haunt, but he shall suffer for our suffering. ltlis daughter shall pay for our loss. Once she has come to learn of the mysteries of the world, study- Q ing from books what we read from the trees, the flowers, the waters of the Conococheague, she shall be bound by an inexorable spell. O Manito, help mel So tightly shall a cord be woven about her heart that never shall she be able to forget the blue sky or the silver water of the Conococheague. Wherever she may roam, never shall she be free from the power of its charm. Only by returning and lingering for a time in the place she has usurped from the Indian girl, shall she hnd perfect peace and content- ment. A redskin never ceases to remember. A pale-face shall never cease to remember. lVIy heart is of lead. My tongue is still. The great Manito reveals to me the future. The holy charm is beginning to be felt. Our day is over. The time of the redman has passed. I go up the long and endless trail. The voices of many pale-faces yet unborn Manito reveals to me, and the words they sing are not the words of my tribe. They are strange to me, but I realize that the charm has worked. Floating up from the canoes on the Gonococheague, I catch an echo and it is this: The Conococheague comes dancing VVhile she wears a silver crown, But when she comes to college, She assumes her azure gown, She lingers by the classic walks, And all the summer through She plays beneath the willows, Clad in silver and in bluel' Manito is good. ltle is just. lrle has avenged the Indian girl. The heart of the pale-face is bound hrmly to the home of the Indian. She can never escape. Always must she return. Manito is wise. Again he reveals to me, as I go up the narrow trail, the voices ofthe future, and l am satisfied. They are singing' VVe will be faithful ever To the Silver and the Blueg Yes, we will be faithful ever To the Silver and the Blue.' C227

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Cofvoco .fa aff. , . rCsHEAGUE r fr Q f I! ' TV F I ' Tw' -115 ,TJ W-JJJQZQN kj h Senior Class History UR Story's been written in prose and in rhyme, in doggerel verse and in vision sublime, but no meter of rhymester, no genius so bright, can full justice do to the Blue and the White. We need not repeat what,s been told o'er and o'er, by Junior and Freshman and gay Sophomore, but on with the tale of this year, which, alas! completes the four years of our dearly loved class. 'Twas a night in September, when we all stood in line, in our new caps and gowns, feeling so line. The new girls, whose names were pronounced with such care, were duly impressed by our dignihed air. Each morning in chapel in our gowns we appear, because of Em's black-listf' which all of us fear. That Monday of Mondays! shall we ever forget, when the Freshmen and Juniors stood out in the wet! And the battles we fought on that old hockey-green, when the soft haze of autumn made the campus a dream. The sands ofthe hour-glass, how quick they pass through! 'Tis Thanksgiving Day, and we've won our W. How proud the eleven! indeed, they've a right, in their high-collared sweaters of, black, blue, and white. Our Basket-ball team now also appear in that letter of letters we all hold so dear. The Rivalsn was splendid, without doubt, we may say, no rival has ,I2 when it comes to a play. The prom to describe, dehes the power of my pen, the beautiful girls and their good-lookingl' men. Each day of the year, through its sun- shine and showers, we gladly would name on this rosary of ours, the banquet, the stunts, our frolics and fun, the nights at Old South, when the day's work is done. But space forbids longer on our Story to dwell, and hasten we must to say our farewell. Stand once again, now let each loyal lass raise high the fair chalice and toast our dear class. Let the far welkin ring with our old battle-cry- Soroini sorotta, banzai, ban banzai! C243