The Messenger, Vol. 34, No. 3

The~ messenger, f\l CHMOND eO L LEGE, - P U BLI SH ED BY TH E-

MU SIGMA _RHO AND PHILOLOGIAN LITERARY SOCIETIES. VoL. XXXIV.

No. 3.

DECEMBER, 1907.

CONTENTS.

~

Uncle Jim•s Account of Santa Claus and the: Popc: (Story) . .S. H. Ellyson. The: Publicist of the South . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conrad H. Goodwin. .

Youth (Poem). ........ . ......... .. : . . .... ...... ..... S. H. Ellyson ..

Balm in Gilead (Story). . . . . . . . . . .. . .. .. . . . . . . . ..... . R. A. Stewart . .

The Echo in the Soul . ..... ... ... . . ... ... . . . .. ...... . .$. H. Ellyson . .

Atmosphere in a Modern Novel . . . .... . .. ... . .. . N. T. Mc.Manaway . .

The Sorrows of Humphrey Chamberlayne(Ballad) ..... R. A. Stewart . .

Particeps Criminis (Story)... ... . ._. .. . ... ... .. . . . .. ... . . . F. B. Clark ..

Thourhts of Home (Poem)... . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . •.. . . . Edwin .M. Heller . .

A Mistaken Idea (Story).... . .. . . .. .. . . . . . . . . .. ..... D. N. Davidson ..

Editorials ............. .... . ...... .... ... . ....... . ... R. N . Daniel. .

Campus Notes.. . ... .. . . . .. . . .. , . .. . ... .... .. . . .. . . . W. P. McBain . .

Alumni Department ... . ... .. .... .... . ..... .. . . . . .... .E.W. Hudgins . .

Exchanges .... . .. . .... ... ..... ... . . ... . ..... . ... . .. . ..J K, Hutton ..

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ten per cent. discount to students.

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$15.00 up.

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hatters= tailors= furnishers, no. 4 l 2 east broad street,

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GOLLEGE

DIRECTORY.

LITERARY SOCIETIES. PHILOLOGIAN.

MU SIGMA RHO.

T. H. BINFORD .... .. .. ... President.

P . M. MILLS . .... .... .. Vice-President.

J. H. TERRY . ............. . Secretary.

J . B. HILL . . . ... .. .......... Treasurer.

H . B. GILLIAM .... . . ... .... President.

W.R. L. SMITH, JR .. Vice-President.

GUSTAVUS EZEKIEL .. . .. Secretary.

A. J. CHEWNING, JR .. .. .. Treasurer.

CHI EPSILON. Miss LEN.A GREGORY .. ........ . ..... President. " BERTHA KNAPP ... ....... Vice-President. " LILY TREVVETT................. Secretary. " LELIA BEATTIE .................. Treasurer.

THE MESSENGER. R. N. DANIEL.......................... Editor.

OSCAR B. RYDER. ..... Business Manager.

GENERAL ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION DR. W . L. FOUSHEE .. ... . .. President.

E. W. HUDGINS .... .. Vice-President.

T. W. OZ LIN . . . .. ..... ....... Secretary.

W. G. COLEMAN ............. Treasurer.

ROB'.!'. N. POLLARD .. Graduate Mgr.

FOOT-BALL.

BASE-BALL.

A . J. CHEWNING, JR .. . ..... Manager.

(To be elected) ......... . .... ... Captain.

J. H . GWATHMEY .......... Manager.

C. T. GARDNER ..... .. . ....... Captain.

TRACK TEAM, H.B. GILLIAM ..................... Manager.

E. M. LOUTHAN . . ... ...• ... . .. .... Captain.

Y. M. C. A. E. M. LOUTHAN .... ....... . President.

B. N. DANCEL . ... . .. Vice-President.

J. F. CROPP ............... . . Secretary.

J. H . TERRY ..... .... .. ..... Treasurer.

Ube VoL. XXXIV.

@

.messenger.

DECEMBER, 1907.

No. 3.

Uncle Jim's Account of Santa Claus and the Pope.

BY S, H. ELLYSON,

'09.

;111rE "big uns" know that this story cannot be strictly true to ~

fable. It seems to have arisen in the twentieth century, and it represents the successful attempt of a desperate imagination which was being pursued by an infinite length of linksausage questions from one wee child to satisfy the insatiable curiosity of that child concerning his patron saint, Santa Claus Kris Kringle Saint Nicholas. In this case, you see, curiosity was not killing the cat, but on the contrary.

Uncle Jim is the proud originator of this story, and Wee Willie is the disconsolate cause. Wee Willie is disconsolate because he has no more questions to ask, and, therefore, has lost his chief employment. Also Wee Willie was a precocious child, who was generally ahead.

The stockings and socks were dangling awkwardly before the grate, and Aunt Sally, Wee Willie's new aunt, whom he had caught being kissed by Uncle Jim lots of times before they kissed in public, was waiting in a momentary silence for the story to begin : "I hate to say it, but it's as slick as a cow-lick that the Pope hadn't any business meddling with Santa Claus. What'd he have to ' saint' him for, anyhow? There was Santa a-carrying on his business as quietly and successfully as the next. He had a nice little hamlet in the Vaterland, and Frauline Griselda was cutting a mighty big figure in his heart just at that time. Then, au¡ of a sudden, the Pope histed himself up a little in his chair,

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

and said' that Santa Claus was named Saint Nicholas hereafter.

That just turned old Santa right out of house and home, for who ever heard of a saint living in a house and drinking beer at the beer garden. He had to get right away from there.

"Now, speaking confidential, Santa always was a chuckleheaded sort of quantity. To be a saint was so wonderfully grand to him that he'll praise the Pope to this day.

"He'd never seen a saint or he'd known better, but he'd heard things about them, and that was the trouble. No monastery anywhere around was good enough for ¡him. He'd read about how those, saints used to go way off out o' hearing of anybody and live moaning o' their sins and the sins of everybody else.

Santa says to the Pope: "' I'll do the best I can for you, but I'm not much on moaning and wailing. I'll tell you what I'll do,' says he; 'I'll go off extra far from everybody to make up for it.'

"Then came the question of where to go. 'Twas plain that you couldn't get anywhere if you went west, and the Chinese lived east of him, so it rested between the Sahara Desert and the North Pole as the two farthest away places. Santa looked at that question a long time. If he took the Sahara he'd be too hot, and if he chose the North Pole he'd be too cold. He didn't like either, and he was almost giving it up entirely, when all of a sudden the solution rolled out as easy as a pig out of the mire.

If he went to the desert he couldn't make ice, but if he went to the North Pole he could still build a fire. That settled it, so Santa moved his bench to the Pole.

"All of this time Griselda was a-weeping and a-crying for her nice young man, but he didn't budge. No, Santa knew the rules. Of course, you know, saints can't marry, but it had to be explained to Griselda. Which was done, but she, like a woman, just said that she didn't care, and kept on weeping.

Ordinarily that would have fetched Santa, but somehow it just didn't. Santa couldn't explain it-he had stopped caring anything about her, but he didn't know why.

UNCLE JIM'S ACCOUNT SANTA CLAUS AND THE POPE. 109

"The real reason was this. Whenever a man became a saint or a monk and shaved his head, Cupid dropped him like a hot potato. Why? Nobody knows, just the same as nobody knows why a camel likes to go two weeks without a drink. That would h~ve been the end of it all if Santa hadn't crossed Cupid's path. " One night Santa was having a right hard time driving along a miry country road, and he happened to look up and saw that the Milky Way was going right along where he wanted to go.

So he switched off on to it, and was going along finely when, all of a sudden, he caught sight of a little curly head asleep on the fleecy lining ¡of a cloud. Acting from habit, he stopped, and, taking an armful of rattles and rag dolls, he laid them gently down beside the little kid, and went on chuckling at the deed.

He didn't dream of the trouble it was to give him. Now this very kid happened to be Cupid, who, by the way, wasn't such a baby as Santa thought. He really is a peculiar one, and he is as big as the Pope, at least in his own eyes.

"Presently up he jumps, and, seeing all of those baby things lying around, he grows indignant. " ' Who's that been presumin' on my personal dignity?' he says, drawing himself up till he almost reached the two-foot mark. ' Hath sleep robbed Cupid of his weapons that he stands here revengeless? Revenge! by Jupiter, revenge!' says he, bending his scowling brow against the surrounding atmosphere, and at the same time kicking with haughty toe the trinkets from their resting place. " ' Ha I is not the villian returning ? ' And crouching behind his cloud he got his bow and arrow ready, while Santa came in sight around the bend in the road: " ' Huh I ' says Cupid, 'it's a saint.' And he looked kinder uncertain, and then he gritted his teeth and let go of the string.

Spang I went the arrow right into poor old Santa, and Cupid just skedaddled, a-laughing and hollowing like he didn't know what was going to happen. Course Santa never knew anything

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER

hit him, because you can't see Cupid's arrows. All he knew was that suddenly he felt like he was going to have another bilious attack, and then he thought he heard Griselda laughing, and then he began to feel mighty lonesome, and then. he began to feel mighty bad about leaving Griselda behind, and then he could see Griselda a-weeping and a-crying all by herself, and then he thought how lonesome she looked and how lonesome he was, and he kept on thinking till he ran right off of the Milky Way and down the clouds to the earth in front of Griselda's house. He stopped and -knocked at the door, and Griselda opened it, and that is all.

"When Santa came to his senses he had pledged himself too far for even a saint to back out, and the Pope ¡ couldn't do anything except talk, which wasn't a circumstance to the talking of Griselda. " That was some years ago, and Santa can't go around with a shaved head now. Griselda was afraid he'd catch cold, and then she said he'd get bald soon enough, anyhow. Cupid hasn't received any more presents from Santa, which may be a reflection on Mrs. Saint Nicholas."

The Publicist of the South.

BY CONRAD H. GOODWIN,

'08.

!iii!HE making of our nation is nearer to us than that of any ~ other nation. It is easy for us to note the splendor of our growth and the development of our national life. And he who can, and yet will not, look back in this year to those small and pathetic beginnings of a nation is like the man who will not take time to reflect upon his own life. For is it not the sympathetic remembrance of the past which built us¡ that should ever make us careful in the rearing of the future ?

We commemorate the ter-centennial of Christianity in America. The memorial service recently held on Jamestown

THE PUBLICIST OF THE SOUTH.

111

Island calls to mind ¡that first simple service of which Capt.

John Smith writes: "When I first went to Virginia I well remember we did hang an awning to three or four trees to shadow us from the sun; our walls were rails of wood ; our seats unhewed trees, till we cut planks; our pulpit a bar of wood nailed to two neighboring trees." Throughou t the early history of the settlers we constantly read of their. religious devotions, and the zeal of their minister in the conversion of the Indians. In the light of such facts, the statement often: made that the Virginia settlers were irreligious adventurers seems absurd.

Three hundred years of civilization is our inheritance. The Jamestown Exposition, creditable in itself, can but faintly depict our development as a people. Great is our material prosperity; greater our intellectual attainments . Public schools, colleges, and universities are scattered throughout our land, and these base their instruction upon the text contained in the motto of the University of Virginia: "Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."

We therefore claim to be a people founded upon principles of Christianity, broadened by the wisdom of the world. And yet there live, in the mountains of Virginia and North Carolina, men of our own race whose standard of morality is as low, whose ideals of the family life as crude, as those of the Indian who faced the first white man that landed upon our shores three hundred years ago.

Among the mountains of Virginia, in such settlements as Pocosin Hollow and Simmons's Gap, families of eight and ten often live together in a one:.room hut, amid the accumulated filth and dirt of years. It is unusual to ~find a man among them who can write his name. They are utterly regardless of life, law, or family ties. And this is no exaggeration. Ask those who have worked among them. It is unthinkable that society should tolerate such social conditions. And, instinctively, we look to those whose influence directs public opinion.

112

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

The negro lives among us. The question [of his moral uplift is vital to every man south of the Mason and Dixon line. The education of ~he mountaineer has been n~glected. In the case of the negro, education seems often to have been bestowed in vain. The negro is the greatest burden that a people has ever borne-allowed to rest upon our shoulders because we are strong enough to bear it. We glance over the daily newspapers and read of crime after crime committed by the demon of lust throughout our Southland. How shall the ungoverned passion of tlie negro be restrained~and, at the same time, his good be kept in mind? Who shall solve the negro problem? We look to the Northerner in vain upon such a subject, for he, in the vast extent of his own ignorance, catches but a gleam of the truth on his journey South. The Southerner must right his social wrongs and solve the negro problem.

The South is relying upon men of thought, who have some insight into her social conditions, and have at heart the good of the people; men whose influence is not handicapped by public office ; whose views are not suppressed by policy or narrowed by party zeal; men holding the respect of the people-makers of public opinion-who, working out some plan for the good of the South, shall have the influence to put it into effect. Such men are publicists in the truest sense of the word.

Virginians have, in a large measure, built our country. As great a work lies before our college and university students to-day in adjusting our social conditions and elevating the ideals of an inferior race.

The usefulness of those who respond to the call shall not be measured in American gold or silver, but their fame shall be inseparably linked with that of statesmen who have gone before.

Their names shall be "written upon the fleshly tables of our hearts."

113

YOUTH.

Youth.

BY S. H. ELLYSON,

'09.

And now I've gained December clear; Through summer heat and autumn haze I've plucked the first fruits of the days; I'm only younger by this year.

Thy days have been the things whereon The All Divine hath hanged His gifts, And every night my fancy lifts, And brings anew the joys a-gone.

Then once again my soul sucks in The wind from off the snowy fields, Strong with the strength that battle deals, Exultant with the trumpets' din.

Then once again the new-born spring Swells my breast with its song of gladness, Makes me respond to its merry madness, And wish I were a wild free thing.

Then once again the drone of the bee 'Mid rich laden roses in sunshine of gold, And the low of the kine from the far-away fold Makes precious the hours of summer to me.

Then once again the autumn leaves Merrily stream in the pungent air, Like the free-blowing strands of a wild maiden's hair, And each little tint a new one conceives.

Ah, how can the spirit of mankind grow old When the days of the years so divinely are made That scarce does the sunset of one of them fade Than another appears in a sunrise of gold?

114

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

Balm in Gilead.

BY ROBERT ARMISTEAD STEWART, PH. D.

!if!HE funeral was over, and John Harvey could scarcely ~ suppress a sigh of relief as the accelerated motion of the returning carriage stimulated his heart to a quicker and freer action. His mind was diverted to the point of observing a cigar shop, and, as thoughts of solace arose, he thrust his head froin the window, called the driver to a halt, and, after as¡s uring himself that no acquaintance was in sight, descended. As he was about to enter the shop his eye was attracted to a sign nailed on an adjoining door, which doubtless gave access to a staircase leading to an upper apartment: MADAME SIGARD, CLAIRVOYANT. PUTS THE LIVING IN COMMUNICATION WITH THE DE.AD. DISCOVERS LOST POSSESSIONS. SOLVES THE SECRETS AND RIDDLES OF THE UNIVERSE.

A weird figure, rusted and' fast fading into nonentity, represented either the aforementioned madame or one of her ancillary spirits-even the ke_enest vision would be at a loss to decide which.

After a moment's pause Harvey entered the shop, but, while making his purchase, felt the working of an almost irresistible attraction to the mystic door. Although a boasted scorner of all superstitions, whether gross or refined, he was, at this moment, strongly tempted to discover whether this woman could evoke a voice in any wise resembling that of her whom he had just consigned to the cheerless earth. He hastily threw down the money he owed, and hurried to his carriage, exhorting the driver, in anxious tones, to" drive on, for God's sake." As the horses sped along he felt better, but, presently, at sight of

BALM IN GILEAD.

115

a falling mist, he was again mastered by the ominous unrest.

Before he realized it, his head was out of the window. " Driver, turn around. No ; go on, and faster." The spell had passed with the moment.

The driver urged his horses to a festive gallop, while the solitary occupant of the carriage bit his lip to keep from countermanding his last direction. Finally there was a splashing of wheels in an overflowing gutter and an abrupt halt at a stepping stone. He was home again. His butler was ready, with raised umbrella, to receive him. Was he mistaken, or had he actually heard a hurried admonition from the driver to " look out for Mr. Harvey, for he sure did act like a crazy man "?

Under the protection of the umbrella, he alighted, and walked up the glistening steps and into the vacant hall. By his .express injunction he had been relieved of the importunate attentions of friends and relative_s. 'H e entered the parlor.

Here, despite the removal of the last vestige of mourning and of death, the unwonted disarrangement of the furniture sufficed to conjure up the whole ghastly paraphernalia, and the lingering odor of roses ¡ and of lilies sickened him fron;t their horrible associations, while the cold rain splashed a dreary accompaniment to his thoughts.

"My God I" he thought to himself, "how could we have taken her out a day like this? " He turned, and observed the servant following pertinaciously at his heels. Dismissing the intruder with a frown and an unmistakeable gesture, he passed from the room, and mounted the thickly-carpeted stair, noiselessly, stealthily, as if slinking away from his own lengthening shadow. Above, the bed-room door stood open-their bed-room. He entered. An advancing apparition made him start with nerves on edge till he discovered that it was nothing more than his own reflection. The idea of the mirror took possession of his mind. He went to ¡inspect the counterfeit self at close quarters, to determine whether it wore that expression of grief which he felt imprinted-nay,

116

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

carved-on his own features. He looked. The other was cruel, deceitful-the same face he had worn two months before, perhaps a trifle paler, as from a short break in a routine of daily exercise-no deep lines, no circled eyes, a calmness positively repulsive. He dropped the corners of his mouth, tried contorting his other features in various ways, but none of his efforts resulted in the picture he had conjured up. He drew out his handkerchief, and rubbed it roughly over his eyes to see whether those founts of woe were in readiness to perform their function, but the cloth remained so provokingly dry he was forced to conclude that there was a leak somewhere, and that the tears were flowing back to his heart.

Discouraged, he threw himself limply into an easy-chair that presented itself invitingly, at the same time seizing a newspaper from the table near by. The first thing that greeted his eye was an obituary of his wife, redolent of complimentincense to the departed, with a trace of narcotic for the living.

He read, with a certain pride, of her genealogy, her social and domestic virtues ; of his genealogy, his honors, his virtues, and his grief-his unparalleled grief and suffering. He fancied the paper was getting wet with tears, but suddenly remembered, to his disillusion, that the newsboy had made his rounds in the pelting rain. His pique was somewhat tempered by observing that a late Mrs. Stevens was confined to twelve lines below his wife's obituary-no genealogy, no distinguished husband, nothing but virtues. Poor woman I He took out a cigar, lit it, and began to smoke. Another, and so on up to five. The room was getting dark, and the looming furniture made him shudder from imaginary transformations; so he arose to close the shutters, first gazing out into the street, deserted except for a single person standing opposite under an ample umbrella, and apparently engaged in inspecting the house. He imagined something familiar about the figure, but, without seeking to pursue his fancies, he closed the blinds,

BALM IN GILEAD.

117

and groped his way to the electric light, wondering why he had not turned it on before.

Cigar five was not consumed when there was a gentle tap at the door, and, in response to his somewhat ungracious invitation, an apologetic head was thrust in.

"What do you want, John?" he asked, querulously, of the owner of the head.

"N othin', sir; but not hearin' no noise, I was afraid, sir."

"Get out, John; I'm not the kind to do anything rash.

Don't alarm yourself. But, my God, this is fearfully hardfearfully hard I" The handkerchief was again called into play, with the same result as at the rehearsal.

"Anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes ; wait. Go to the marble yard early to-morrow morning, and deliver this note."

The order for a magnificent tomb-stone, befitting his dignity and position, had already been given, but he had not before been in a mood to compose the inscription. He walked over to a desk-her desk-and wrote: "Under this stone lie buried together the body of Julia Harvey and the heart of John, her husband."

Simply this for the face. The reverse should bear her name and the usual dates. The servant was given the sealed and addressed note, and was about to withdraw, when his master called him back. " One moment. I must send a note to Miss Wade to thank her for the flowers."

Another note, after which the butler was allowed to go without further let or hindrance.

"Gates Ajar," meditated Harvey. "Beautiful tribute from a beautiful woman I When these trained nurses are nice they are hard to beat. Great institution I Now, if I should fall sick from this awful sorrow, I should know where to go. My God I My God I Poor Julia I"

118

RIOHMOND OOLLEGE MESSENGER.

Another cigar, and images began to take form in the curling smoke--charming honeymoon pictures, on to the terrible night when his wife awakened him with an anxious request to feel her hot and throbbing head. That look of terror when she suspected how ill she was. And the long illness.

With the picture of the shrinking form and waning beauty of the loved one there was associated another face-beautiful, fascinating, beaming with loving self-sacrifice. Despite every effort of his will the two were inseparable. Even in the death chamber there she was, claiming the nurse's privilege to remain with the dead to the last. Then the funeral, and a tearful face beside the grave. Eyes seeking his own, as if suing for some share of his suffering. He started, as a queer train of associations led him to the form he had just now seen on the other side of the street. It was she I What on earth could she have been¡ doing there in the rain at that hour ? A shadow of realization flitted across his brain, but was lost in the everrecurring thought of his own desolation.

After finishing his last cigar he began to prepare for rest from force of habit, warned by the clock. From the recesses of the wardrobe he drew a pillow, which he handled with as muoh tenderness as if it were a fragile human being, and placed it beside his own on the great bed. The slip was faultlessly white, pure, with a slight furrow in the middle as if from the pressure of some lightly lying head. When they had gently lifted her from the bed, this mould had remained, and this he determined to cherish forever.

After several secluded days and restless nights, he returned to his office. The longing for the one being had gradually changed o a general unrest-a desire for an immaterial something he was at a loss to define. Then another image began to find prevailing entertainment in his mind-that of the pretty nurse. He began to experience a prick of conscience at neglecting to call to thank her for her untiring attention to the dear

BALM IN GILEAD.

119

departed. The thought crystalized into a desire, and the desire brought fruition.

The second Sunday after the funeral he drove, under cover of night, to Miss Wade's apartments, ~here she was recuperating from the recent ordeal. To his surprise she was at the door, as if waiting; and her hand-shake seemed to communicate a trifle more than professional warmth. He stammered his appreciation awkwardly, forgetting the :finished phrases he had forged so carefully as he came along in the carriage. She, too, seemed to receive his expressions uneasily, as of .payment for services she would willingly forget.

"Somehow, Miss Wade," he began, "you seem to me a spirit from another world. I can't separate you from my wife.

Consequently you occupy a large part of my thoughts."

She flushed with evident pleasure.

"You are very kind to think I deserve such consideration," she replied.

"But, speaking of spirits, Miss Wade, I want to ask your advice. The other day I happened to notice the sign of a medium, a Mme. Ribaud, or some such name. I feel a temptation to visit this woman, though you are possibly aware what a very materialistic person I have been. But when a man has a bereavement as I have, it makes him think differently. If I could fancy, even for a moment, that I was in communication with my wife, I'd be willing to place myself in a position to be duped." " Oh, Mr. Harvey, for Heaven's sake, no ; don't. .You give me the cold shivers. I wouldn't go to one of those people. They must be frauds, though sometimes I really think they must be possessed of the devil. Don't you ever read your Bible for comfort?"

"Yes, recently, on the strong recommendation of my wife's clergyman, I have turned the book over several times, but every time my eyes seek out that legend of the witch of Endor.

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

These mysteries have a fascination for even the most worldly and hardened."

"If your wife hears this no~, I am sure it would grieve her very much."

"Do you really think so? You don't know what a deep, unappeasable longing is-a void that can't be filled."

"Perhaps I do know and can sympathize with you. I, too, have felt a longing." ¡ "For one who is dead?"

"No-I mean yes. A girl companion of my childhood."

"But what can equal that of a man for his wife? Do you understand that? " " Not being a man, no. As a woman, yes. Don't you suppose that a woman can feel as deeply as a man?" " Ordinarily, but I am no ordinary man. This craving is maddening. If she were only back, if no more than a moment.

Do you know, if it were not for your sympathy, I feel I should go crazy now. You nurses, God bless you ! You have other physic than that which you administer from bottles.".

He left that night with some comfort-late, too late for discretion-and the first thing he did on reaching his room was to write a note to the carver, directing him to suspend work on the monument for a while-he "might desire some change in the details."

From this time the gloomy bed-room seemed haunted, as his wife gradually assumed another form in his mind-an avenging spirit, about to lay an icy finger upon his very heart. The death chamber became awful, and he began to occupy another. But, in all his unhappy moods, the cheerful parlor of the little nurse arose to his thoughts as a safe refuge, and he sought it very often.

Strange to say, Miss Wade appeared to entertain no thought of resuming her occupation, though her cheeks were blooming as of yore and the dark circles had faded from around her eyes.

Apparently she was content to live on her income, and wait.

BALM IN G !LEAD.

121

Perhaps she was waiting for him to fall sick, for the pleasure of nursing him, for he seemed about to yield himself a prey to some insidious malady, born of grief and nourished by a craving to expend a superabundance of affection on some lacking object.

He still raved of trying to communicate with the dead, but the little nurse discouraged him two, three months; but at last, when the tension seemed at the breaking point, and he besought her, as if she were the main-spring of his actions, she reluctantly yielded, and advised him to seek all possible solace from his superstitious commerce.

On his way down town next morning he knocked at the mystic door next to the tobacco shop. •A little old woman, withered and bent, with keen eyes and sharp nose, answered the call, and, after a moment's inspection of the visitor, announced, in reply to his query, that she was not Madame Sigard; that Madame could see no one at present, being in another world; that she was empowered to appoint an hour for a seance if he desired one ; that Madame was more than human; that her fame was worldwide, as was attested by the pamphlet which it gave her great pleasure to present to him.

At his request, the appointment was fixed for 6 o'clock in the afternoon.

Seeing two girls approaching, he hurried off, fearing to be recognized. As he turned he heard one say to the other : "She is really wonderful. The rappings cost a dollar; the trance two dollars. Do take the trance; it's lovely."

Lovely ! To what extremes can the folly of school girls go I Harvey went home very early that afternoon, to prepare his mind for the crisis, and succeeded in stirring himself up to a point of eager anticipation, such as a young lover feels at a first rendezvous.

He reached the narrow stairs at the appointed time, and mounted with the reverence of a Hindoo about to be initiated into the most sacred mysteries of his religion. He was greeted at the upper door by the acolyte of Madame, who

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

ushered him into the sanctuary-a rather large wom, adorned with many hangings, and supplied at the remote extremity with a sort of dias. ¡ A dim, irreligious light was filtered through the dingy curtains. Various tripods, cabinets, and other accessories to the mystic rites were arranged about the room. The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating, as if dense with disembodied spirits, all sufficiently tenuous to be taken into the lungs and to oppress the vital functions.

Hardly had he been able to take in all these details when there was heard a slight swish of garments, and a figure, stooping, but apparently fa! from the usual emaciation of female seers, issued from the folds of the hangings and presented itself to view. The flowing robes and the hood attached Jeft the appearance of the person beneath almost entirely to conjecture. " You wish to call up the ¡dead?" began a deep, sepulchral voice from the depths of the hood-a voice that Harvey for an instant fancied feigned.

"Yes 1 A loved one."

"I shall have to go into a trance, and the strain is terrible.'' " You shall receive full compensation.''

"Seat yourself in that chair," pointing to a low seat by the platform. Harvey complied docilely. The clairvoyant stretched herself on a low divan beneath the canopy, well in the corner shrouded by the deepest shadows, and began swaying her body to and fro as if inhaling the fumes from some invisible pit.

Presently the swaying ceased, and the body assumed apparent rigidity. The fleeting idea crossed Harvey's mind that the outlines were rather plump and girlish.

"I see the host of spirits," the voice began, weirdly. "One steps forth from the others-a light-haired girl, blooming with youth, smiling. Her name is Julia Harvey. She wishes to speak with you.''

A cold chill began to run through Harvey's marrow, and the ground seemed sinking beneath him.

"Ask her if she is happy where she is."

BALM IN GILEAD.

123

" She seems so. Her face wears a smile. And now there walks one beside her-her husband."

"Her huspand I " he gasped, "a damnable lie I I am her husband." " Were her husband, you mean ; for you know that the pitrwd seek their affinities in the spirit world. She has found hers. And she is happy. Listen. She speaks. ' Tell John to make himself happy on earth, as I am happy in heaven.' " "A lie!" he cried, in a white heat of rage. "She said no such thing. If you don't want me to brand you as a miserable fraud, then see whether you can. answer the questions I ask.''

"Try me," she replied calmly.

Question after question was hurled at the obdurate witch, but the answers were accurate-wonderfully, inexplicably accurateall in that ghastly, awful tone. Driven to the wall, he called a truce, and begged to be granted some visible manifestation of his wife. The medium arose, and, after several mysterious passes, there was a phenomenon that resembled his wife but little, and a voice still less like hers, but his mind was in such a state of receptivity that he was disposed to allow his inclinations to hold full sway in the field of consciousness. He was enjoying a sensation of an uncanny mysticism that fulfilled his desire most heartily. He remained, then, in this trance-like apathy until aroused by the gutteral tones of the medium enquiring whether "the incredulous mortal was convinced.''

"Yes, yes," he replied, absently; "I suppoee so, and here's your money. Good day."

He picked up his hat and left the room, after depositing the fee on a seat, withdrawing at the crucial period of exaltation from an unwillingness to break the spell by close contact with the diviner. The medium, on her part, made no effort to detain

him.

As soon as he found himself on the sidewalk he experienced a confused sense of incredulity mingled with uncertainty. He was unduly fain to believe, because the suggestions dove-tailed

124

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

with his own inclinations. On the other hand, certain incongruities and absurdities began to bear in upon him and threw his mind into agitation. To calm his feelings, he made straight for the home of the little nurse. She was not at home. Her whereabouts could not be ascertained. He decided to walk in and make himself at home, as the approaching night insured her early arrival.

Taking a seat beside a pier table, he picked up a book lying with several others, but distinguished by a marker. The marker determined the place of _opening, and his amazement was keen as his eyes fell upon the following passage : ".As he finished these words the new • .Madame Helvetius entered with the nectar, and I recognized her immediately as my f01¡mer .American friend, Hrs. Franklin. I reclaimed her, but she answered me coldly: 'I was a good wife to you for forty-nine years and four months-nearly half a century; let that content you. I have formed a new connection here, which will last to eternity.'

"Indignant at this refusal of my Eurydice, 1 immediately resolved to quit the ungrat~ful shades, and return to the good world again, to behold the sun and you I Here I am; let us avenge ourselves."

A dizziness overcame Harvey, as the mysterious limbo of superstition became suddenly and unexpectedly illuminated.

The suggestion, opportunity, and accomplishment seemed in such logical sequence that, instead of getting angered, he was pleased at the ingenuity of the device and flattered by the affection that prompted it. A woman clever enough to execute a like marvel would certainly prove a most valuable helpmeet for a rising young lawyer. Before she had returned he evolved and harmonized a complete scene, with a view to making the shock of disclosure as mild as possible.

He had lighted a cigar, and was feeling quite cozy in a tabernacle of smoke when the door opened and a faint cry of surprise penetrated the envelope.

THE ECHO IN THE SOUL.

125

"Why, Mr. Harvey, you here ! " "Yes, my dear spirit, here in the flesh, and just reading a most entertaining episode in the works of Franklin."

Through the veil of smoke he could see her reeling, pallid from dismay and anguish. The feminine swooning tactics were out . of his reckoning, but with presence of mind he rushed to her, ¡ seized gently and extended her inanima.t e form on a sofa, and rushed out in search of brandy and salts. While thus engaged he found time to formulate certain phrases of comfort and conciliation to greet her awakening, the result of which may be read in the note that went to the carver of stone the next day: "Place the left side inscription of my wife's tomb-stone on the right face, and ~et the left remain without inscription."

The heart of John Harvey remained in the tomb of the lost one no longer, but had enjoyed a glorious resurrection.

The Echo in the Soul.

BY S. H. ELLYSON,

'09.

I'm here in this curious place, God knows where it is, I trow, For I can never remember Having been in this place before.

I wonder where I came from, I'm sure I used to know, But it certainly was a beautiful pla9e Long, long ago ! .

There ! don't I remember?

No, 'twas only the sun Shining over the golden bars When the setting's done.

Somehow, some way, somewhere, And wqy dost thou thrill me so When thou kisseth me with thine eyes About to go?

126

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

Atmosphere in a Modern Novel.

BY N. T . McMAN.A.W.A.Y,

'09.

:;fifrERY few novelists of t0-day have written anything that ~ will bear critical study.

There is at least one exception, however, and a notable one. Miss Edith Wharton, authoress of "The House of Mirth" and" The Fruit of the Tree," has proved herself a mistress of forms and also a deep psychologist.

While the last mentioned, and, in fact, her latest work, is not a novel of setting, yet in it the student may see the effective use of atmosphere to increase the interest and to influence character.

The story has to do with a mill town on the one hand and the drawing-rooms of high society on the other. Thrown in with telling effect and remarkable tact are relief sketches of woods and fields, and steel engravings of hospitals and sick rooms, which charm or depress in turn. . I say steel engravings perhaps erroneously, for these pictures are not complete in detail to each little line and point, but are rather pictures, paintings with strongly outlined central objects or figures and blended backgrounds that the better serve to impress their image on your fancy.

Miss Wharton has used a strong style in utilizing atmospheric matter. Suggestive pictures rather than tedious expletives portray the existing conditions. One is impressed with the great need for community improvement in the factory ¡districts.

One is struck with the infamy of ~orporations by peeps into the hospital and its internal working, which has been dominated by the politics of the directors.

Miss Wharton depicts clearly the effect of environment on character in general and in particular instances. Recall the numerous times Mr. Amherst, in the congenial surroundings of his chosen life, that of philanthropy, has the best of intentions toward his wife, yet, when he goes to her to make his

ATMOSPHERE

IN A M•DER°N NOVEL.

127

peace, finds her, in her world, flattered and fatigued. He loses control of himself, and always does just what lie wishes the most to avoid. · Again, when he (Mr. Amherst) brings himseH to agree with his wife's friends as to his duty to her (and that happens only - in her world) he needs but to return to his own world, surrounded by possibilities, problems, and achieverlients of his o~ schemes, ' to upset it all, and bring him oack to his ideas.

Equally interesting is the study of Mrs. Amlierst, as the forces of environment play upon her.

Another study might be made of , the beneficial influences that were exercised upon the young doctor by the responsibility of a complex case or an interesting patient.

Miss Wharton possesses mastery of suggestion in her description. One enters the sick room with the IiUr:Se, sniffs the odor of drugs, marks with professional ifiterest the symptoms and charts. Yet, withal, one is overwhelmed_ with pity for the patient when one notes the intense su£te:Hng expressed in the face, and denoted by the labored breath or the murmured groan of pain, so intense that the stifling of expression helps to detract the attention of the sufferer from his anguish.

The mill scenes are not vivid, as that is uncalled for. But the atmosphere of the shop, the little touches of life of the laborer, are present.

Romantic ~cenes are few and weak, for they nittst he indefinite to allow no inconsistency irl tlie subseqtlent actions of the characters.

"The Fruit of th~ Tree" is not strictly ah atmospheric study.

It is rather a "dissection of social rottenness in New York society"; yet in it the student may find niuch material with which to confirm or refute th!=)ories as to the use of atmosphere. ·

former

128

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

The Sorrows of Humphrey Chamberlayne.

[An

incident of Colonial Virginia.]

BY R • .A.. STEW.ART, PH, D.

There was a swain 'clept Chamberlayne, Whose annals are but brief ; He'd just sailed o'er from Britain's shore, .

Yet came forthwith to grief.

His innocence of wrong prepense Is stablished by his word ; But he ignored and drew his sword On Colonel William Byrd. • Upon a day of early May This Humphrey hied to town, To there succumb to fuddling rum Arid gain a broken crown.

Upon the green a man of mien Above the common herd Did execrate his swagger gait(This man was Colonel Byrd).

In rage he flew; his sword he drew, And plucked his jerkin off, To right this wrong before the throng On him who dared to scoff.

But Byrd cried out, "You silly lout, This action is absurd.

I cannot fight so mean a wight, For I am Colonel Byrd." " I care no fig; you are a prig, Whatever else you be.

If not too thick your heart I'll prick, And that right speedily." " Such idle prate," Byrd answered straight,

THE SORROWS OF HUMPHREY CHAMBERLAYNE.

"I never yet have heard; And now, I trow, to gaol you go, As I am Colonel Byrd."

And then straightway, to stop the fray, A sheriff on him fell, And Chamberlayne was dragged amain And thrust into a cell, With broken pate to speculate Why this abuse occurred, When he would fain his due maintain Against this coxcomb Byrd.

His arms were strong; the time seemed long ; The bars were old and frail ; He promptly bent the impediment, And leaped from out the gaol.

Among the rout he strode about, By danger undeterred ; He strained his eye to haply spy That craven Colonel Byrd.

But while he plowed amid the crowd, The sheriff him espied, And nabbed his scruff, and with a cuff Abased his martial pride.

"Now this you'll pay, Sir Runaway," The officer averred ; "The court will show what bumpkins owe To Col~nel William Byrd."

The judges all within the hall Made wonder-stricken eyes To learn that fray upon this day Should sully their assize.

And most of all it did appall, (In this they loud concurred,) That such a hind should have in mind To skewer Colonel Byrd.

129

COLLEGE RICHMOND ¡ MESSENGER. 'J f\ I

The culprit rose and did depose Before ~ll~ fP;tgit,~rate, He knew not these estet=imed grandees, ' Because arrived of late.

And this should be his honest plea, He never yet had heard On land or sea of this grandee Whose name was Colonel Byrd. '' I here decide," the judge replie~, " Your plea shall not avail.

You must repair the wear and tear Upon our damaged gaol.

Tobacco sound I mulct five pound, Despite what you averred; For all the earth esteems the worth Of Colonf)l William Byrd."

Particep~ Criminis.

BY F. B. CLARK,

'07.

Z HAVE a confession to make to the world.

But when I have me. Though blame ~ told my whole story I think nobody will I admit I have more curiosity than some people, I like a jok;e, I like intrigue, and nothing pleases me more than to penetrate into some strange P,erson's thoughts and intentions, and watch the manipulation of his purpose. But n.e ver before have I gotten myself into a more desperate situation than the one I refer to.

I could see that I was being led into an act of a desperado, yet my curiosity ( or, better, desire for excitement) let me be led on so that, before I knew it, I had become partice_ps criminis.

This is how it came about. One night I was strolling, scarcely knowin~here. The moon was shining brightly; it was just the kind of night to make one's imagination play freely, and to make one long for the infinite and the impossible ; just the kind of

PARTICEPS CRIMINIS.

131

night to make one love to listen to talks of love, war, or sorrow; just the kind of night to make one love to sit alone and let his mind wander and thoughts play at their will; a night like that, when I could neither read nor sleep, when I could not feel satisfied anywhere. I was wandering at will through field and forest.

I came upon an old man, sitting dejectedly by the road-side. I ventured to speak to him, but his mind seemed _set upon something more important than I was. But I persevered in my attempt, and it wasn't long before we were talking confidentially.

"See yon elegant field and dwelling?" said he.

I had noticed this attractive~looking place as I came by. Of course it dimly shone in the moonlight. " That once was a mansion, and is indeed still pretty, but nothing to what it was when I was a child."

"Old houses always interest me," said I, "and particularly those which seem once to have been especially fine."

But I was all the time thinking how much more interesting are old wrecked pieces of humanity than are ruined mansions I did not let him into my thoughts, but let him continue what he had to say.

"Ralph Conway lives there now," continued he, as he scraped his pipe, knocked it on the edge of his boot, and placed it in his pocket.

"I can never talk with a pipe in my mouth," said he, in an undertone.

"Ralph is in moderate circumstances, and cannot replace the magnificent' structure. But still there is a neatness about the way it is kept. He and I used to be school chums in our younger days, and also Virginia Lovey. Virginia is Ralph's wife now. We three used to play together, and, in fact, grew to a good age in companionship. Ralph and I both loved Virginia, and I sometimes thought that she loved me best when now and then she would cast side glances at me and smile. One day,¡ as she sat upon a grassy knoll, I thought she looked so pretty. She sat with her head bowed, and was playing with hei:

132

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

handkerchief. I started to sit by her. All I wanted was to sit there and know that I was sitting by Virginia. But this time she jumped up. When she turned I said : " ' Virginia, you wouldn't run from Ralph like that.'

"She did not reply.

"In a little while she was again in the same place. I was indifferent, and would not look at her. But presently she said: " 'J_oe, come here. I've got something to tell you.'

"I went. Ralph was sick that day, and I thought I had the best of him. " • Joe, 'said she,' I didn't mean to run from you. But I love Ralph, and Ralph loves me, and he says that some day we will live together in the big house on the lane. There is Lucile, and she loves you.'

"Just then Lucile ran by, catching at a rubber ball. It slipped from her hand and rolled right between my feet. I picked it up, tossed it to her, and began catching with her, trying not to be sorry for what Virginia had told me.

"That may seem childish, but all love is childish. Neither was I such a child, for I was at least seventeen."

I knew that was the age boys love the hardest, for I was not much older myself. I just wondered, and let him talk on. I could tell he had something more serious to come.

"It is strange how vividly such recollections will come upon a person in old age," continued he. "One loves to think of them, even though it does make him gloomy. Though many years ago, I remember every detail with perfect cleari:i.ess-even Virginia's expression and Lucile's smile when we began playing together. " Ralph and Virginia have for many years been living in the big house on the lane. Lucile and I became great friends, but before our friendship had time to ripen into love she died. How clearly I remember I How I prayed that when I should look upon her face in her little casket she might come to life! It

PARTICEPS CRIMINIS.

133

was the first corpse I had ever seen. How my youthful heart sank!"

By this time my strange friend had become somewhat affected.

He began to talk more freely, and to speak as though every word bore a deeper meaning than I could see in it.

"It was then my life ended," said he. "Since that I have wandered from place to place, just living for what I could see.

Since my little episode with Virginia, and especially the death of Lucile, I have never known an ideal. I have always looked upon the aspirations of those about me with curiosity. I could¡ never see the need of aspiring toward anything, since everything is in the hands of destiny. It takes but a moment to blot out all hopes of a realization of a dream. But still 'tis true that change working in human affairs brings pleasure to some and sorrow to others. Let those whom Fortune favors aspire, but, since she turns against me, I wili only live until she takes me away.

"Such have been my thoughts for years. And for years I have not been much better than a tramp. Though I have done no one any harm, still, neither have I done any good. Yet there is in my heart a desire which, if life lasts and chance permits, I shall satisfy. There is a man on the earth whom I think it my duty to kill. " Only a few weeks ago I saw him. All he said was: " ' Old man, tell anything and you are done for.'

"I did not wish to kill him then, but I did not know what I know now. That day I overheard a conversation. I heard 'Virginia Conway,' then 'Harvey Wellington.' I listened attentively. I heard remarks about the fine-looking horse and carriage that went regularly to Wentworth Tavern. Again, ' Harvey Wellington.' Being a little deaf, I could not hear all they said ; but it was enough. I felt that I knew what they were talking about and what it meant. 'I will go immediately to Ralph Conway, and tell him about it,' thought I. " Well, I went, as soon. as I could, to the big house on the

134

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

lane. Virginia Lovey met me at the door-now Mrs. Conwayand so much changed. " 'Well, Joe,' said she, 'how long it has been since I have seen you I Come in, and give a full account of yourself.'

"I hesitated, because I did not want to make possible any arousal of Ralph's jealousy. I knew that he knew that I loved Virginia once. " 'Is Ralph at home?' I asked. " 'Yes,' said she. 'Come on in. You are not going to pass here to-night.' _ ." The home seemed comfortable and happy. There was Virginia Lovey's daughter. So much like Virginia she looked, but prettier. They all seemed so well satisfied that I could not think of arousing their suspicions in regard to any of Virginia Conway's friends then, without something more definite than I knew. So I let the conversation run on old times. Young Virginia had but little to say, and seemed-to be dreaming. She held her pet kitten in her arms, now and then pressing it close to her heart, but scarcely seeming to realize that she held it.

The cat seemed to be a part of her thoughts.

"I remained there three days without hearing a word of the person I had come to warn them against. Nor did he appear.

I determined that on the next day I would make some inquiries, and, if I could establish any proof of my suspicions, I would warn Ralph against the threatening danger. But I had delayed too long. On the fourth morning Virginia was gone. . "Neither Ralph nor his wife had suspected anything wrong.

They evidently knew that their daughter had been receiving the attentions of a certain fellow, but they thought they could trust her to her own judgment. Now she had been allured or stolen, they knew not which. Anyway, she was gone. There was no trace as t where she could be.

"Ralph Conway and Virginia were prostrate with grief. They told me about this man Harvey Wellington ; how fascinating he was ; how he came with a fine carriage and took their

P ARTICE PS CRIMINIS.

135

daughter driving. That was all I needed to know. I knew Harvey Wellington and the rest of the story. Had I told them how, a few years before, I had formed the acquaintance of a young man; how he was infatuated with a young lady; that he was rather poor, and had nothing to offer save his honor and his self-exertions; how this .Harvey Wellington, with his fine dress and fanciful ways, had allured the girl from him; how, some time thereafter, I saw the same girl in the hands of some rescue workers, and heard her pitiful story of a life of shame forced upon her; how this man had taken her through a mock marriage, and had kept her for his wife awhile in a handsome house, but in a few weeks had turned her over to a scornful woman, who made her submit herself to a life of shame-had I told them these things they would have known what kind of a man Harvey Wellington is, and what is Virginia Conway's fate. I would not¡ tell Ralph and his wife this, but let them hope.

"It is true that I haven't the power to stop such actions, yet I feel equal to this one task, and, prompted by the love I once bore for young Virginia's mother, I shall bring her daughter again to her home ; for, though she may be shamed, she is innocent."

I had listened to this story. I felt the deepest interest in the man, and knew that his life had been one of complete disappointment. And, too, I felt that it was, for the most part, due to his lack of courage, or, rather, push. I wished to say something that would cheer him, at least a little.

"It is true," said I, "that one cannot depend too much upon the ways of the world for th~ accomplishment of a purpose. It is also true that the happiest dream js often blotted out in a moment. Ideals are often uprooted in their formation. But it. has always been my policy, when I see one hope fade away, to grasp at another. The greatest pleasure of life lies in anticipation. As soon as a hope is realized its pleasure departs, and one finds solace in the anticipation of something else."

He seemed a little cheered, but would not agree with me. He

136

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

said that if I found any pleasure in life I was one whom fortune favored.

When we parted I gave him my card and address, and volunteered any assistance I could render him. It did not occur to me that I would ever hear of him again.

But I did. It was not many weeks before I received a note from him, telling me to come to an appointed place at an appointed time. I did not know just what to do about going.

At last I decided to go. He was at the place designated in the note. It was just before night. He led me behind a clump of bushes, and told me th_at we were . to wait for a carriage, and, when he should give a certain signal, I must dash in front of the horse and stop him.

We sat there. In a little while the tramp of a horse was heard. He raised his head up to listen. I started to get into the road. He motioned me back, and peered over to see if it was he whom he expected. He gave the signal, and I dashed in front of the horse and stopped him. The man in the buggy drew his revolver and fired at me. The bullet passed through my hat. In an instant my partner was in the vehicle, with his revolver pointed at the head of his opponent.

"I surrender," cried Harvey Wellington.

"Where is Virginia Conway? " asked the old man.

"I have never heard of her," was the reply.

"You lie," said my partner, holding the pistol closer. " She eloped with me," said Harvey Wellington, "and I have her at my home." " Eloped? Hell ! " said my partner. " What did you do with Olive Walden? " Harvey Wellington trembled.

"Give me Virginia Conway's number," said the old man.

The man drew a card from his pocket and handed it to him. " Is thi$ her address? " asked he.

"Upon my honor," replied Wellington.

THOUGHTS OF HOME.

137

"Your honor? Heavens I what a lie I Where is your honor?

Give me Virginia Conway's address."

"Upon my life, that is it," said the man, falling on his knees before my partner.

My partner was convinced, but not satisfied.

"You have done enough of this villainy," said he, as he placep his revolver against Wellington's temple and fired. " Don't you think you had better have turned him over to the law?" said I, when we left.

The man gave me a fiery glance.

"Law? Thunder I" replied he; "that's not much better¡ than the scoundrel was."

I was afraid to irritate him, and changed the subject. We parted after a short time, and no trace of him has come to me smce.

Thoughts of Home.

BY EDWIN M. HELLER,

'09.

I've wandered wide o'er hill and dale, In countries far and strange ; I've sought the blazed Indian trail, And the snowy Alpine range ; I've gazed on famous works of art From pit to gilded dome, But the thoughts that welled within my heart Were ever thoughts of home.

From Afric's sands to Asia's strands My footsteps next I turned ; To see the beauty of these lands My soul had often yearned.

Their glory was a mocking jest To one who had to roamFor the thoughts that surged within my heart Were ever thoughts of home.

138

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

· The deserts drear, the woodlands wild, The ocean's frothy foam, But served as agents to recall Sweet, loving thoughts of home.

In every city, state, or clime, From Iceland down to Rome, The thoughts that dwelt within my mind Were ever thoughts of home.

A Mistaken Idea.

BYD. N. DAVIDSON,

'09.

~HE Conrad Engineering Company is a large and pros~ perOUE! enterprise.

Being an employee of it, I was sent into the mountainous section of Tennessee . I was most fortunate in my location, as I had often wished to see the people and to understand the customs of this particular section. I arrived at a :flag station on the Louis vi lie and Nashville railroad on D ecember 15, 19-. My expectations were not of the vain kind, nor had the reports which I had heard so often concerning this district been exaggerated. Of course, some things, of which I had not heard, struck me quite forcibly, but I could easily accouut for that when I remembered that no two persons eve~· get the same impression from the same thing. On arrival, I went to onr newlyestablished camp, which was ten miles back from the railroad.

As we had not begun operations, I was at liberty, except for the care of the camp at night, until Jan nary 1st.

The following morning I inquired of my assistant, who had preceded me by fifteen days, where and how far the nearest settlement was. He indicated the direction, and said · it was O'llly a short distance. After breakfast I set out in search of the mountain home. I followed , with difficulty, the bare outline of a path for something like three-quarters

A MIST AKEN IDEA.

189

of a mile, when suddenly I came to a clearing. In the centre of this field stood a little cabin made of barked logs of various kinds, piled upon one another pen-fashioned, with a kind of gray earth filling between. The roof was made of I uneven boards, which were confined by heavy logs, the same number on each triangular side. The ends of the logs on one side were tied to the corresponding ends of the other by large wild grape vines to hold them in place. ¡The chimney, tapering gradually from the base to the top, extended one or two feet above the roof, and was made of the same material as the hut.

Nothing disturbed the silence of that lonely spot except the cackle of a hen and the squealing of a pig which was imprisoned in a coop in the chimney corner. I hesitated a moment before rapping on the door, as I feared that the occupants might be too bashful to receive a stranger.

At last I knocked. The door was opened, and a tall woman, clothed in a loose-fitting, home-spun garment, appeared. To be sure, she was a strange-looking creature.

Judging by the wrinkles on her face, I should say she was sixty years of age. Her hair, protected by a bandanna handkerchief, was as white as canvas compass-cloth. Her eyes were large and glaring. A scar was on her right cheek.

In fact, this blemish disfigured her considerably, and also drew her mouth out o{ position. She , had only a few teeth, and they were worn down by the constant use of a pipe.

She was a little nervous at the unexpected appearance of a stranger, but within a moment she was calm. I raised my hat, and saluted her politely. " W un't ye cum in 1" she boldly asked, not waiting for any explanation on my part.

With not a little misgiving I walked into the hut, introducing myself and telling her whence I came. " Teck er cheer," were her next words.

I sat down on a rickety, old-fashioned, split-bottomed chair . .

140

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

I was befuddled as to what I should say next. In an instant the happy thought struck me of inquiring whether she could sell me some country produce that we might be able to use in camp. Without much hesitation she replied: " Yas, sir, I ken sel' ye sum aigs, but how much is ye gwine ter gim me fer 'em 1 'Cause my aigs is wuth mo' 'an enybody else's."

Satisfactory terms were agreed upon, and an option upon her choice articles for market was granted to us for . the future.

Although I had told her my name, she then, in an earnest manner, inquired: "Who is ye euyhow 1 Whare'd ye cum frum 1" In accordance with her request, I rehearsed again my little story. Then the old woman removed her pipe from her mouth and said : "Well, what's y' awl gwine ter do down thar in that 'ar camp 1 'Tis mity 'spicious. Boss, he sez he don't like them 'ar furiners much. They ain't got no biznis down thar. He sez y' awl '11 skeer awl ther deers away if ye don't do nothin' else. Boss is huntin' now. I wush he wuz heer, bless my sole; he'd arger ye. Boss is er smart man, I tell ye he is.

He argers Passon Briggs, an' gits ther best uf 'im enytime.

Boss knows Latin, fer he sez wurdbattum et liveratum an' disterryper tyrranis, an' so on. Boss '11 shore want'er see ye, 'cause ye ain't got no bad eye, an' seems ter be edurcated. He likes them 'ar kind of foaks mity well. He likes mitely ter arger. I tell ye, 'spose ye cum up beer nex' Sund'y, an' Boss '11 teck ye ter beer Passon Briggs preach, an y'awl ken tawk gwine 'long up thar. He wun't go by ther black rock though, 'cause J akup Sloan seed er speret thar t'other yeer, an' sence then he gose by Rubin Sprouce's. Tawk erbout ye purty gl\ls-Lordie, they'll be thar Sund'y. Ma'y Jane is ther purtiest, though. That's my bruther Luke's oldes' gal.

Now, don't disappint Boss; be shore an' c,um."

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A MISTAKEN IDEA.

I soon found out that it was as hard for her to stop as for me to begin. I could not get a word in under any conditions, or, even if I did, she did not hear it. I was glad to find her so talkative. I congratulated myself for having met such a person. About 9 o'clock I arose ¡to go back to the camp, but she insisted that I should remain for dinner, although it was three hours away. I would have stayed, however, but for over-doing my first observation skirmish.

With this in mind, I told her that I would dine with her on a more convenient occasion, and, promising to go to" Passon" Briggs's chapel on the following Sunday, left.

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Two days later I found myself with Boss, the old woman's husband, and a prominent man of that ueighborhood, climbing the mountain in the direction of the chapel. On this occasion the old man told me many interesting stories. As he was an ardent believer in ghosts and supernatural beings, he talked about them continuously. In fact, he told of every "speret" that had been seen in that country for the preceding fifty years. The old stories were told with as much interest as if the incident had oqcnrred on the week before.

It was not long before we were in sight of the church.

Our conversation natura11y came to an end before reaching the crowd of about fifty mountaineers, of various types, who were bunched together in front of the chapel door. On reaching them Boss did ¡not introduce me to any one. He busied himself shaking hands with and asking each how his family was. To these fellows I was an object of special attention. Whispered comments and inquiries were made concerning me. No one said a word to me or even welcomed me. Soon an interesting conversation was in progress. Boss led off as follows: " W el1, is y'awl reddy fer Ohris'mas?"

"Purty much, sir; purty much, sir," replied one.

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

"Is y'awl got yer Chris'mas lickers yet 1" inquired Boss. " Most of us is, I b'lieve," said another. " Well," Boss proudly asserted, " mine hain't cum yet. I ordered sum Frinch licker, an' 'twon't be beer 'tel nex' week."

"Ef yourn don't cum in tima," said one, "we ken 'vide wit' ye."

"Awl right," said Boss, "I mout call on ye."

"Boss,'' said a middle-aged man, '' is eny priperations bin made fer our Ohris'mas hunt~" "Well, naw," replied Boss, "I dun'no ef we arter hunt deers ur no. Ye know that ar white deer. Well, everybody mos' in ther whole country has shot at 'im, an' nobody ken kill 'im. Thar's sumpin' wrong, I tell ye. Ebenezer Gunter shot bof barrels at 'im an' didn't tech 'im, an' he never was known ter miss er shot befo'. Jes' shore's ye bawn that ar is er speret deer, an' I wudden kill 'im fer nuthin'. I 'speck we'll hafter hu¡nt, but let it be understood that nobody shoots at that ar white deer ef he happen ter cum through. On Ohris'mas mornin' I'm gwine ter blow my horn early, an' y'awl git ter my house quick ez ye ken. Y'awl that lives on t'other side of ~her' mountain git ter ther stan's, but be shore an' don't shoot at that ar white deer ef he cum through. Joe Buck, ye bring Trirnbush an' Trusank, an' I'll put old Rock upside 'em fer ther chase. Mike, ye an' Tim ken drive fer us, so tell yer mammies ter fix y'awl sumpin' t'eat ter carry 'long wit' ye. Y'awl'll git hongry ef ye don't."

At that moment the minister came to the door and announced that services would begin at once. Each moun ¡ taineer, without delay, trudged to his accustomed pew and riveted his eyes on the speaker. I entered last, and took a seat in the rear of the house. The minister requested the congregation to sing " The Old Ship of Zion." Well, everybody knew this, and to say that the shingles on the roof quivered before it was finished is hardly an exaggeration.

Next came the Scripture reading, but to locate it I am unable.

A MISTAK~ IDEA.

143

The subject, however, was friendship. The preacher had a commanding appearance, and he]d his hearers admirably.

His oratory was of the old-fashioned type, and was supported by a deep voice. The people literally swa11owed everything he said. They said "amen" or grunted very frequen,tly.

On one occasion be was interrupted while explaining the "unfriendliness" of J oab in connection with Absalom. He ¡ unfortunately stated that Absalom's neck was caught by a limb of a tree, and an old sister begged to differ by saying: "N aw it didn't; it caught 'im by the bar."

The sermon, taken as a whole, I should say, was fairly good, although the minister was a little inconsistent sometimes.

I closed my hymn-book when the benediction was pronounced, thinking that everybody would go borne at once.

But I was mistaken. The social part was to come. The old married men ]eft their side of the house-ladies and gentlemen had separate seats-and invaded the ladies' territory. The youngsters could not screw their courage to the sticking point, so they held their own ground and lookep. on, coveting their fathers' boldness. The girls looked as if they would be glad to have them come over, but the "dead line" could not be crossed. I had never before witnessed such modesty and bashfulness. While musing over these scenes, the old woman who invited me there came and led me over the dread boundary.

I had forgotten about Mary Jane and the others of who~ I bad heard the week before. The old woman and I approached a girl that was about nineteen years old. She was dressed in a basque and hoop-skirt-the first hoop-skirt I ever saw.

Truly the girl's make-up was impressive. Her Roman face, with dark brown hair and eyes, made her quite attractive.

On reaching her the old woman said : "This is Ma'y Jane."

Before I could te11 the girl who I was, she had called my name and addressed me most intimately. I was rather sur-

144

RICHMOND OOLLEGE MESSENGER.

prised, although there was no ground for it, after all things are considered. I asked her how she liked the sermon. She replied in a somewhat .affected tone: "I liked it migbtly; I thought 'twas mighty good."

I kept on talking to her, bulf she was inclined to be silent.

In a moment it occurred to me that she would not be of such a brave nature as her old aunt, owing to her youthful modesty and inexperience. I concluded that I would have to ask pointed questions to find out anything. So I began to sound for something of common-place interest to her. In reply to questions pertaining to school and every-day affairs, she said : "I hasn't got no lernin'; I don't need it enyhow, 'cause Pop an' Unk Boss, does awl ther figgerin' an' writin'. They sez wimmin doesn't need no lernin', 'cause time they do what they got ter do, they don't want er_ book. They want 'er go ter sleep then. Shucks! I don't see no sense in them air pothooks an' hangers, no way. Jes' gim me sum bred an' meat, an' I'm awl right. I loves ter werick. I cooks, sews, mends shoes, makes stockin's, ketches rabbits, cuts wood, an' wericks out doze, an' I-" At this point the interesting discourse was interrupted.

The girl's little brother told her that he was ready to go. I expressed my appreciation for her acquaintance, and walked with her to the cart. After the two had wrapped themselves comfortably with a quilt, the boy struck the mule with a hickory switch, and they set out in the opposite direction from the one I pursued.

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At the break of dawn on Christmas morning the silence of those majestic mountaine was broken. I heard the mountaineer's born pealing forth the signal of the happy hunt.

The sound, ai; it echoed and re-echoed throughout the valleys, was extremely musical. While it continued I stood motionless, and, to my imagination, it did not augur anything good.

A MISTAKEN IDEA.

145

There was a hesitancy in my going, but finally I took my gun and set out ..

Within an hour the party was assern bled, and Boss had mapped out the course of the" drivers" who were to manage the dogs. The gunners were sent to the places, commonly called stands, where the deer would most likely run when chased by the dogs. Boss reserved the best stand for himself and me. We proceeded to it at once, and concealed ourselves in a thicket, to prevent the deer from seeing us, should any come by.

The old man kept his eyes on my gun. It was the first breech-loading gun he had ever seen. As he seemed anxious to try a shot, I suggested that we exchange guns for a while.

He hesitated for a moment-a flint-lock was good enough for him, but he finally took the later model. Just then we heard the leader of the pack yelp in the dietance. Rock was a truthful dog, and whether the deer was coming our way was then the question. Boss knew the drift of things on that mountain pretty well. He had been there before. When the pack seemed to be two miles away, be whispered that a deer would be through our stand within five minutes. He got up from his seat, cocked the gun, and pointed it in the direction of the pack. Two hundred yards away two deer were seen coming straight to ns, and the one in the rear was white. What was to be done~ I remained perfectly still, but Boss thought he would try the first-and a beauty it was.

As be caught sight and was pulling the trigger, the leader glimpsed us, and suddenly darted to the right, and the white deer fell at the ¡crack of the gun.

Boss almost fainted. He grew pale, and shook like an autumn leaf. The idea of his killing the "speret" deer was too much for him. I did not know what to do, and suggested to him that he blow his horn for the others . He did so. All came and looked upon the scene. There was a silence for several moments.

Finally, one of the party

146

RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

suggested that, so long as Boss had killed the deer, they would have it cooked and each one partake of it, in order that all might suffer the same fate as their leader. It was agreed upon, and Boss ordered them to take it to his honse, where it would be prepared for eating.

At 4 o'clock the table was ready. Before taking their seats, Boss, now more composed, brought out a seale'd jng.

Early in the fall he had planned to treat his friends on Christmas day with something out of the ordinary, and, as mentioned in the conversation at church, had ordered ¡a high-priced French brandy, which he knew nothing about.

Through mistake, he did not get what he ordered. The liquor proved to be absinthe. None knew the difference between' French brandy and absinthe, so each of them, according to their custom of drinking, took a big draught, and then proceeded to satisfy his hunger. The table was bountifully supplied with home-produced food. The meat of the deer was tender and delicious. The meal was very Really the hungry men appropriate for the occasion. seemed to enjoy it, in spite of what bad happened. Everything went well for a time, but before the dinner was over the whole party was completely intoxicated, and lying on the floor. The spell lasted during the whole night, and, when consciousness was regained, not one suspected the liquor, but all declared that the "speret" deer had caused the trouble. Eac:h resolved that he would hunt no more deer, and the visitors left for their homes.

Ube@ .messen ger.

113oat~ of JEMtots.

ROBERT NORMAN DANIEL, '07, Philo Iogian.

ELIJAH McINTYRE LOUTHA~, '07, Philologian.

Editor-in-Chief.

Assistant Editor.

:associate J5Ntots : Philologian.

Mu Sigma Rho. C.H. GOODWIN .... . ... .¡ . . . Essay J. K. Hu•rTON .. .. . . . .. Exchanges s. H. ELLYSON .. . ...... . . Fiction: E. L. ACKISS ........ ....... Poem W. P. MCBAIN .. .. Campus Notes E .. W. HUDGINS . . . Alumni Editor Business Manager OSCAR BAXTER RYDER, '08, Philologian.

Assistant Business Manager ARTHUR TAZEWELL GRIFFITH, '09; Mu Sigma Rho.

We undertake some discussion of the record of the foot-ball team of 1907, SEA.SON. not with the intention of parading the glories of the season or of making excuses for the defeats.

We feel that the men who have worked so faithfully on the gridiron deserve an account of their doings in a prominent place in the magaziue, and so we make their record the sn bject of an editorial.

The team of 1907 went up against one of the hardest schedules ever played by any college of a11ything like our number!'!, It faced opponents who out-weighed it and who should have out-classed it. But out-class it th ey did not; and the splendid games with the Agricultural and Mechanical College of North Carolina and the University of N orth Carolina are abun.dant evidence of the troth of this statement.

When it came to the championship series, it looked like an easy thing for Richmond. Hampden-Sidney and William and Mary went down by scores that showed that th ey were completely out-classed. The team returned from the garq~ THE FOOT-BA.LL

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER

with William and Mary in a crippled condition. With only one day's rest it went into the postponed game with Randolph-Macon. The men could not get snap into the game. It was a physical impossibility.

But we said on the start that we would not make excuses.

We simply state the facts, and leave the case on its own merits to the judgment of an impartial public. RandolphMacon played good ball, and they defeated us by a small score. From them we would take no tittle of glory. They won the game, and they have the right to be proud of it.

To the glory of the Richmond team let it be remembered that the men played with all the strength they had, and that they showed a spirit under defeat which attested to their real manhood and reflected credit on the College they represented.

The team was unquestionably one of the greatest-perhaps the greatest-the College ever put out. It seemed a hard turn of fortune that it did not succeed in bringing in the symbol of championship. Circumstances conspired to preve~t this, and, while future generations of students will not find here the cup, as evidence of the prowess of the men who composed the team, their glories will live in the memories of all who knew them.

As we glance at our- calendar we note that the Christmas holidays are only a few weeks ahead of us. Already we begin to feel a thrill of delight in anticipation of the visit home, of the meeting with friends, and of the round of feasting and other pleasures too numerous to mention.

Doubtless expectation of these joys has already taken possession of all of us; and it is well and good that we look forward eagerly to the fulfillment. However, a note of warning may not be out of place. It may seem presumptuous for the editor to undertake to give ad vice, and yet no pres umpTHE HOLIDAY SEA.SON.

EDITORIAL,

149

tion is in tended when we call attention to the real meaning of Christmas, and suggest conduct fitting to the season.

Christmas celebrates the birth of Him who' came that we might have life and that we might have it more abundantly.'

Few of us deny the truth of his coming; few question the claims he made for himself. Some are negligent about their duty to him, and yet even these generally acknowledge the results of his work, and so place upon themselves the obligation to celebrate the day kept sacred as his birthday in an appropriate manner.

Again, let us say that the joys of the Christmas time are right and proper in themselves, and that.the only danger of wrong is in the tendency to forget and to overstep the bounds of conduct proper to the time. When we go home let us be glad at meeting our friends. Let us enjoy the borne and the bounties of the season. Withal, let us remember the significance of the celebration, and, whether Christian or nonChristian, let us, as appreciative beings, act with due respect to him who revealed truth to man.

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'-tampus 1Rotes.

W. P. McBAIN, Editor.

The foot-ball season closed with the Randolph-Mac on game on Saturday, N ovem her 30th. Although we did not win the cup, we scored in the championship series more points by far than all ¡ the other colleges put together. We won the cup offered by Newport News in our game with William and Mary. Duriug the entire season we scored 125 points to our opponents' 98, and, taking info consideration the heavy teams which we opposed, this is a most excellent record.

The regular monthly meeting of the Athletic Association. was held on December 2d. Mr. A. J. Chewning, Jr., was elected foot-ball manager for the season of 1908. The election of assistant manager was postponed until January. Mr. Paul Woodfin t1ucceeded Mr. Chewning as a member of the Executive Oommittee, and Mr. W. G. Coleman succeeded Mr. Woodfin as treasurer.

Thanksgiving Day was spent very quietly on the campus until the score of the William and Mary game was heard. It spread like wild-fire. Soon the whole grounds resonnded with yells. Every student who did •not acco!llpany the team went to the depot that night to meet them, and they were greeted by familiar college songs and loud cheers.

The first dance of the season was given Thursday, December 5th, at Belvidere IJall. The large punch-bowl in the corner was patronized extensively. The boys for the most part came in their Tuxedos, while the girls wore their handsomest gowns. The floor was well filled, and as a whole the dance wae . a success.

The First Baptist Church entertained the members of the foot-ball team and the officers of the Athletic Association on

CAMPUS NOTES.

161

the night of the 7th. The most fortunate man present was "Reddy" Coleman, who was eligible to a double share by virtue of his office in the Association as well as being a member of the team.

A joint debate is being negotiated between William and Mary and Richmond College. The two Societies appointed a committee to arrange for the debate with another committee from William and Mary. It is the earnest desire of the students that the debate may take place.

Captain Our prospects for the track; team are good.

Louthan already has his men out for practice. Several meets are being arranged for by the manager, Mr. Gilliam, but at the time of this writing no definite dates have been made.

Prof. Winston had charge of the faculty reception for November. Every one present enjoyed it thoroughly. Refreshments, ice-cream and cake, with hon-hons, were served. The Glee Club rendered a few very delightful songs.

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Blumnf lDepartment

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E. W, HUDGINS, Editor.

" These are my jewels."

We were happy to greet A. B. Wright, B. S., '07, Thanks giving Day. J. M. Shue, B. A., '06, now teaching at Parksley, Va., was around College several days recently.

To Allen Jones, B. L., '9!), we owe much of the hearty welcome which our team recei.ved in Newport News.

P. G. Elsom is holding a meeting at Emanuel Baptist Church. We were glad to have him with us in the chapel last week.

J. B. Webster, B. A., '06, was around the campus for about a week recently. Webster is now working at Crozer Theological Seminary, Chester, Penn.

Dr. L. Lankford and two sons, Bnrnley, captain of the foot-ball team of '08, and "Mac," captain of the '02 team, saw the game in Newport News on Thanksgiving Day. T. Ryland Sanford was an enthusiastic "rooter" at the same game.

J. L. Elmore, B. A., '07, star end of last year's team, paid the College a visit of a few days about Thanksgiving. He is now studying law in the University of New York.

B. H. Turner, B. A., '07, uow teaching in the high school at Churchland, Va., spent Thanksgiving Day at his home in Richmond. We were glad to see him on the campus again.

W. J. Young, B. A., '07, came to see the foot-ball games with William and Mary and Randolph-Macon. " Cresar" is

ALUMNI DEPARTMENT.

163

doing theological work at Crozer and M. A. work in the University of Pennsylvania.

H. L. McBain, a Master of Arts of Richmond College and Doctor of Philosophy of Columbia, is now Professor of Comparative Administration and Constitutional Law at George Washington University. He delivered an address a few weeks ago before the Educational Convention held in Roanoke.

Jex cbange IDepa rt men t.

J.

K. HUTTON, Editor.

The William and Mary magazine is good. At least it shows that many members of the College have talent enough to write well if they would This is possibly the best criticism in gene-

THE WILLIAM AND MAR\' LITE KA.RY MAGAZINE.

only cultivate it. ral we can make.

The magazine is well balanced. The literary department consists of three stories, two essays, and six poems.

Of the stories, "The Stranger's Grave" is the most mature as to plot. We do not think the story entirely consistent in its details, and yet we cannot say that the happenings are improbable under the circumstances. Consistent and welldevised plots are rare indeed in college magazines.

The stories entitled "Uncle Mose" and " The Night of the Twelfth" are deficient in plot, but more readable than "The Stranger's Grave."

The reader must stretch his imagination mightily in order to conceive of certain incidents related in "Uncle Mose." The same criticism applies to "The Night of the Twelfth." If the writer of this story intended it to be psychological, it must at least be said that his treatment is not scientific. If he did not intend the story to be of such a nature, the main idea conveyed is entirely too fanciful.

The essays are well written, and contain substantial matter. They are really worth reading. The most favorable comment to be made is that the subjects of these essays must necessarily be of intense interest to a college student. On the other hand, after reading, for example, "The Value of the Classics in the School," we feel that the writer has- not gone deeply enough into his subject to give us the valuable information that we au tici pated. In other words, the subject is too large for the body of the work.

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In the poetry department "The Death of Summer" is most worthy of remark. The words are strikingly poetic.

The picture is so vividly drawn that the reader, even in the spring time, might fancy that he could hear "a solemn sadness murmur through the leaves, and feel the North God's fierce destroying breath."

The other poems are not bad. We read them all with interest.

Before closing this review we must mention bad punctuation as being one of the most grievo us faults in the magazine.

It is not necessary to cite examples; they are too numerous.

We are inclined to attribute much of this to the printer, but poor proof-reading is in evidence.

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As usual, The Red and White contains · t eres t·rng s t ones · many m an d side, splitting jokes. Neither orations nor essays are present to mar the effect of the merry rhymes.

The cover is corresponding ly bright and attractive. The Red and White is a jolly good magazine, and we are always glad when it arrives.

THE RED AND WHITE.

The Guidon is tastefully arranged. Of THE GUIDON. course this is to be expected, since it is edited by young ladies. However, arrangement is not The (J-,uidon'a only merit. We find an exceedingly interesting treatment of Hawthorne's "The House of Seven Gables." The writer evidently studied her subject, and her ideas are well worth the reader's consideration. " The Warning" is the best story in the magazine. The picture of the Indian camp in the forest, and of Pocahontas as she speeds away in the night to warn the settlers of their danger, is portrayed with wonderful ability. The writer of this story has unusual talent.

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RICHMOND COLLEGE MESSENGER.

(.tlfppfngs.

Life-a woof of tangled threads, The lines run in, the lines run out, And some are dark and some are bright That wind and lace about ; The pattern sombre, the pattern gay As triumphs hope or doubtBut who is the weaver who weaves it?

Fate-the grim, with merciless hand, Guides he the shuttle here and there ?

Does he fashion the figures, fair and free, In a web that is subtly rare, At last to mar them with the blighting trace Of the canker thread of care ?

Is Fate's the hand that shapes it?

Nay, Life is the fabric of man alone; He weaves its pattern of varying hue, And his the blame, and his alone, If happiness' threads are few; Be the pattern bright, or the pattern dark, It is his to prize or rue ; Nay-Life is what you make it .

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