http://archive.oes.edu/files/original/3350dfcb85a6fd4e22e386064fe9c451.pdf a5d2aa5e0078465e6d48dff3c8095f09 PDF Text Text ��■ m jotie mm asii | l l ! STo MELEMS HALL !F®r(iJsnindl0 ®ir<g|®ii5] 1 \ �mm 5 DELPHIC : Delphic Staff Editor in Chief MARJORIE PITTOCK Literary Editor EVELYN MEYER First Assistant Literary Editor IRENE MACKAY Second Assistant Literary Editor EDYTHE HARTLEY ( LILLIAN BENNETT Kalendar Old Girl Notes Art Exchanges Music and Entertainment Athletics (JANE KNAPP (LILIAS PELTIER /JULIA BRADLEY (CECILIE APPLEGATE [CATHERINE MAYHEW (GWENDOLYN /donna HALL magnuson (VELMA PAYNE (ELBERTINE ADAMS (MARJORIE MARINER (BETTY SEWALL Business Managers (CATHARINE MARTIN (DOROTHY STATTER Advertising Managers fMAYANNA SARGENT ■j MATILDA BOWMAN DARRELL TORREY �f&rjard 01 nluTir CONTENTS EDITORIALS Literary A thletics Old Girl Notes Kalendar Music and Entertainment Exchanges Advertisements �i____ 8 DELPHIC . ;! S?.' The Delphic is published twice during the school year. All students should subscribe. I Literary communications should be addressed to the Editor in Chief business letters and subscriptions to the Business Manager. Subscriptions, $/ .00 a year. a ;.i a -1 I ; 1 •* i'i K i I f I - JUNE, 1925 �s m m DELPHIC I When these Seniors of St. Helens Hall Do leave us soon for good and all We’ll remember each not by her name But by the thing which won her fame. Elbertine Adams by her lovable nature. Cecilie Applegath by her literary ability. Lillian Bennett by her daintiness. Matilda Bowman by her voice. Julia Bradley by her kindheartedness. Analene Cohen by her jollity. Lucile George by her smile. Gwendolyn Hall by her dramatic ability. Edythe Hartley by her reliability. Florida Kissling by her dependability. Virginia Kissling by her goodfellowship. Jane Knapp by her giggle. Myrna Lamser by her chatter. Irene MacKay by her hair. Donna Magnuson by her artistic ability. Marjorie Mariner by her athletic ability. Catherine Martin by her popularity. Catherine Mayhew by her sweetness. Margaret McKern by her quietness. Evelyn Meyer by her prizes. Velma Payne by her impishness. Lilias Peltier by her good nature. Marjorie Pittock by her Delphic. Celeste Proctor by her style. Beverley Roberts by her eyes. Mayanna Sargent by her good sportsmanship. Betty Sewall by her sense of humor. Dorothy Statter by her profile. Doris Thompson by her amiability. Darrell Torrey by her lovableness. 9 �.. 10 DELPHIC Elbertine Adams Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924; Pres., 1925. Class Play. Student Council. Cecilie Applegath Delphic Staff. Class Play. Student Council. Lillian Bennett Delphic Staff. Student Council. Class Play: Tickets. Matilda Bowman Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1923-24-25. Student Council. Julia Bradly Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1923-24-25. Student Council. �DELPHIC Analene Cohen Glee Club, 1924-25. Class Play. French Play, 1925. Student Council. Lucille George I Glee Club, 1925. Student Council. Gwendolyn Hall Delphic Staff. Class Play. French Play, 1925. Student Council. Edythe Hartley Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924. Basketball, 1925. Class Play. Student Council. Florida Kissling Glee Club, 1925. Student Council. I i �m p§B! 12 DELPHIC Virginia Kissling Glee Club, 1925. Student Council. Jane Knapp Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924-25. Student Council. Myrna Lamser Glee Club, 1924-25. Student Council. Irene Mackay Delphic Staff. Class Play. Student Council. Margeret McKern Glee Club, 1924-25. Student Council. �DELPHIC Donna Magnuson Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1925. Class Play: Assistant Stage Manager and Programs. Student Council. Marjorie Mariner Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924. Basketball, 1924-25. Student Council. Catherine Martin Secretary and Treasurer of Class. Delphic Staff. Vice-President of Student Council Glee Club, 1924. Captain of Basketball, 1922-2324-25. Tennis, 1922-23-24. Class Play. French Play, 1924. Catherine Mayhew Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924-25. Class Play. Student Council. Evelyn Meyer Delphic Staff. Basketball, 1924-25. Class Play: Stage Manager. Student Council. 13 �DELPHIC Velma Payne Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924-25. Basketball, 1925. Class Play. Student Council. Lilias Peltier Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924-25. Class Play. Student Council. Marjorie Pittock Editor-in-Chief of Delphic. Basketball, 1922-23-24-25. Class Play, Scenery. French Play, 1923-24. Student Council. Celeste Proctor Treasurer Glee Club. Class Play: Costumes. Student Council. Beverly Roberts Glee Club, 1924-25. Student Council. �m DELPHIC 15 ! : ft Mayanna Sargent President of Class. Delphic Staff. Glee Club, 1924. Basketball, 1923-24. Class Play. French Play, 1924. I Betty Sewall Vice-President of Class. President of Student Council. Delphic Staff. Basketball, 1922-23-24. Class Play. French Play, 1924. Dorothy Statter Delphic Staff. Student Council. Doris Thompson Glee Club, 1925. Student Council. Darrel Torry Delphic Staff. Student Council. Class Play: Ushers. ! I i * : >1 �■ \ DELPHIC £ i) i t t> r i s H. It was three years ago in nineteen hundred and twenty-three that the time came for the class to choose a motto, which would represent the spirit of the class all through the years to come, until we should grad­ uate, and afterwards; something that we should remember perhaps all of our life, and try to liveup to. We thought of many different mottoes; it was hard choosing one suitable to the ideals of the class; finally we came upon one, which we decided would be the best that we could ever find: “Esse Quam Videri.” The thought that is embodied in this motto is sincerity—a thing that is necessary to every human being, for without it one may have a very hard time in this world. A person who is not sincere is neither looked up to nor respected,—is, possibly, an outcast. One who is sincere can always be trusted, never does unworthy deeds secretly, or indeed at all, for sincerity is akin to honesty. For these reasons and others we chose this motto, and since then have been trying our best to live up to it in every way. It has been hard sometimes and sometimes we have not entirely upheld it; but for the most part we have succeeded well. This sincerity is something that can be found in almost everything we do or say. We should be sincere in our friendships by never saying anything against our friends or doing anything which we know would be untrustworthy; for friendship is founded on perfect trust. Then in our school work, we should earnestly endeavor to do what we should do, day by day, for it is the daily work that counts in the end. And again, sincerity in our conversation is a thing which should never be omitted. We should never say a thing which we do not honestly mean, for we are always sorry afterwards for having said it. And finally there is a great deal in being sincere in sports, by playing the game straight forwardly, by never accepting a point which we know we have not earned, or that belongs to the other side, and by acting in a sportsmanlike manner whether having lost or won. And so, we feel that we have decided well in having chosen for oursolves that we should “be rather than seem” �f ; : i ! DELPHIC 17 Home Lighting Contest I j In the Home Lighting Contest sponsored by the National Electric Lighting Company in every state of the Union, the girls of St. Helens Hall received their share of prizes, although they did not gain the first prize. The following girls won five dollars each for their compositions and small books, in which the fixtures were pasted neatly, and in the correct places: Edythe Hartley, Marjorie Mariner, Matilda Bowman, Elizabeth Ann Johnson, Janet Wentworth, Imogene Wentworth, and Bar­ bara Jane. ' ■i Lincoln Essay This year the Illinois Watch Company offered a medal for the best essay on the life of Abraham Lincoln, to be written by a member of the Senior Class. The essays were read before the school on Lincoln’s birthday, and were accompanied by the usual patriotic exercises. The girls opened the program by singing •‘America.” This was followed by the reading of the prize-winning essay, written by Edythe Hartley. There were two honorable mentions; these were written and read by Matilda Bowman and Betty Sewall. The “Gettysburg Address” was recited by Deborah Ball; the singing of the “Star-Spangled Banner” concluded the program. -• Chemical Essay Great honor has been bestowed upon Evelyn Meyer, who in the con­ test of the National Chemical Society of America, has received as first prize a twenty-dollar gold piece as well as a certificate of merit from the state. Her essay has been sent to New York, where it will be judged with other essays in competition for a four years’ scholarship to Vassar or Yale, according to the winner. The subject of the essay was “The Relation of Chemistry to the Home.” Impressions Vivid greyness, western sunsets, Far o’er hills of purple hue; Looming boulders, sparkling steamlets, Distant calls of elk and ewe. Rolling lands of sage and missa. Barren hills of rock and sand, Wooded plot and hidden crevice In the land where man is man. —Beatrice Foster, ’27. : i I i I g : i ?. �DELPHIC 18 Class History if you read our class prophecy you will find out just what is going to each one of us some day. But perhaps, before you read it, to happen know how we all came to be here in this class of you would like to nineteen twenty-five, and what we have been doing since we came. founded by Mayanna Sargent in 1913 as a First Grader The class was and business-like thing to do Sfor yeSSla”fshe^M m“de president of the class. In 1915 she left school^Tor a time, but returned again in nineteen eighteen in September, nineteen s.xteen^Cecilie to tock were enrolled, and staj, g Sewall joined the class, and in ^“nin;^“S-d Matilda Bowman made our number "X At the beginning of our freshman list: Julia Bradley. Donna Magnuson sJkimmed the ;lsMoafrg,Earning iS.iral ^freshmen do. hardly realizing that we would be seniors some day in the future. ,n nineteen twenty-two, GwendoJ^ ^ayhTwined o^rTnUs, °and Thompson, Dorothy Statter. and.Ca!hfete' elechng our president, Mayanna u and§0ur secretary and treas the sophomore class was form®^ g Sargent; our vice-president Bet • ug (hat the day was coming urer “Katy” Martin, the realization cam ^ t0 us. Meanwhen we would be doing to others asAhesen.. ^ and m it took ing, of course, that we were rather an g• necessary, twenty-three, the seniors to "take us down a peg, as was The final members of our class Joine^u® them, for they made our junior year. We were overjoyed t0 welcT. were Lilias 1 Peltier, number the largest in any class^fan ^ Lilia" ^ our Si: ps "SSe. - - ~ was our senior ,«r, - Dj* S"» position. At last, we been away a year, returned to us We have^ ^ scholarship^;^ our school and have succeede t s in succession. Just at p d0„n winning the banner for Jhre®J“a ight 0f June second, andl d *e breathlessly waiting for the mg J win not stumb are all hearts we are violently hopmgJhat in our mount the steps to receive our diplomas. �1 MB ; DELPHIC ; 19 Class Prophecy Time: 1935. Place: Portland, Oregon. : Setting: Drawing room of home of Mrs. Harvey Richardson (nee Mayanna Sargent). Mrs. Richardson is giving a large tea for those of her ex-schoolmates, who are in Portland. ! Mrs. Richardson: The doorbell, Hilda. Oh, the first arrival! Why, it’s “Vel”! My dear, you can’t know how glad I am to see you. Why, it’s been years and you look just the same. Velma: It was lovely of you to remember me. I was awfully surprised to get your invitation. Someone must have told you I was going to be in Portland for a few days. You see I am on my way to San Francisco to join Don, my husband, you know, and Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, before sailing for Japan. My husband is doing some research work there, and of course I must be with him. Mayanna: Tucker? The name sounds familiar. I know! It’s “El”! Dear old "El”! She has a little boy, too, hasn’t she? It seems to me I remember—the doorbell—excuse me a moment, please. Two very stylishly dressed ladies appear. Velma: Why “Gwennie,” it’s so good to see you again. too. What have you been doing lately? And Matilda, Gwendolyn: Don’t laugh, “Vel”, but I’ve joined the stock company here —it’s a glorious life, though, and I love it. I’m doing awfully well —and Matilda— Matilda: Gwennie! You promised you wouldn’t tell! You understand, “Vel”, I haven’t announced it yet, but I’m going to be married on the thirtieth. Now don’t you tell a soul, please,—why, here comes Lilian Bennett. I haven’t seen her for months. Lilian: Hello, everybody! Have you heard the latest? Darrel was in yesterday, deciding on some things—you know I’m running a modiste shop now, Vel,—and she says that she has just received a position in a hospital ’way over in Bulgaria, or one of those states over there, and she is getting ready to start in two weeks. And the most excit­ ing part of the whole thing is that she is flying over—yes, in that new passenger plane they’ve just finished—the initial flight. r \ �20 DELPHIC all remember Julia Bradley and Lilias PelMayanna: Of course, you to be having a glorious time superintending that tier. They seem orphan asylum out in Roseway. Personally, I can’t imagine having all those youngsters under foot, but Lilias: Why, Mayanna, they’re the dearest little cherubs—we love them all, don’t we Julia? Julia: Of course! How could we help it? Though 1 must say it’s rather trying at times—not as hard as what Jane is doing, however. Have you heard? Jane and her husband have a large ranch up in Eastern Oregon and they have about two dozen children up every week-end, sometimes all week. Sort of a fresh air idea. And they feed them butter and eggs and milk and cottage cheese and all that truck to make them healthy. Mayanna: Does anyone know whether “Ev” Meyer is coming or not? Somehow I can’t quite believe that she is the national woman champion golf player—of course we all know what a marvelous stu­ dent she was—but I imagine she can play golf just as well—they say it hasn’t turned her head at all—but of course it wouldn’t—oh, some more arrivals. (Enter Catherine Mayhew (now Mrs. Hugh Dynne), Lucille George (now Mrs. Robert Kent), and Florida and Virginia Kissling.) Catherine: Well, how are you all? It seems so good to see you again! Mayanna: And how are Hugh, Jr., and Mary and Alice, Catherine? I’ve never seen them, you know, but I’ve heard a lot about them. Won’t you bring them over to see me sometime? My little Harvey will have such fun playing with them. And, Lucille, I hear you are your husband’s stenographer. It must be exciting, though I confess I never could do it. And do you know, girls, that Florida and Virginia have started a very select school for young ladies here, called the Kissling Seminary? I’m coming over to visit it soon, Virginia, and only wish I could start Harvey in there. Virginia: Of course, it has a long ways to go yet to obtain a high standard, but then I guess any new school has to. But listen, I ve got some awfully interesting gossip for you. I just heard that Myrna amser has been elected delegate for some society for the better­ ment of the home, and is going east in a few weeks. I’d like to give ree cheers for her, for I’ve heard that she is doing some fine work in parts of this city. Lucille: And has anyone heard about Margaret McKern? She married, nhr! fnf°W’ an<^ ^ien s^e and her husband went to South America W° ^ears ago—he was a zoologist or something. They re own t ere as far as I know; I rarely hear from her. �L DELPHIC 21 Velma: Mayanna, where is “Katy” Martin now? I haven’t heard any­ thing about her for ages. ! i! ■ IS : ■: j Mayanna: Katy? Surely you heard about her! The poor girl has had a terrible time. You know she has been playing tennis, and when it came time for her to choose a partner for the international mixed doubles, there were about a dozen men who were literally fighting for the place. Of course, she favored Jack Crosby, and the others were practically heart-broken, so they say, and lost all interest in the tournament. Of course, you’ve heard the sequel to that? £ tj, E! \ 2 : Velma: No; what was it? Mayanna: Why, when they won the championship they were sent over to the Olympic games and—well, they were married before they left. Rather a neat romance—what? Velma: I should think so. But did you hear about Irene? You all know about the fine work she was doing on the New York stage. She went to England with her own company about three weeks ago, and it is said she is gaining more popularity than any American actress so far. I think it is marvelous the way she has worked up to the top so quickly. : i Mayanna: Why, here are Cecilie and Donna Magnuson. How are you? Cecilie: Very well, thank you. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay long; I have to catch the six o’clock train, for I’m taking my best racer down to the races in New Mexico. I expect him to do some pretty good work this time. ! 1 II Donna: And I’m afraid I’ll have to eat and run, too—I have a class at five. I’m having a gorgeous time with my studio and my pupils. I haven’t done anything big yet, but I have started something in oils that I think will show up very well in the coming exhibition. Mayanna: Our class has certainly done itself proud so far as we’ve heard, hasn’t it? There’s one girl I certainly feel sorry for, though, and that’s Betty Sewall. It seems to me she’s wasting the best part of her life way off there in Oshkosh, Iceland, teaching a tiny school of Eskimos. For all I know the schoolhouse may be an igloo. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t have a chance to do better, but I’ve heard that she has been offered a place in several other schools. And yet she seems to love it where she is. To tell the truth, she changed a lot after that accident in her senior year at college in which the man she was engaged to was killed. Well, I can’t say I blame her for being unhappy—but as for isolating herself like she is doing----- * $ �DELPHIC I 23 Class Will We, the class of nineteen hundred and twenty-five, being of sound mind, do hereby give and bequeath our goods and chattels. To the class of twenty-six, we leave our seats in the rear of the study hall, hoping they will fill these positions with the proper dignity and poise. To these our successors, we do also bequeath our sweet, simple, and girlish, dotted swiss graduation dresses. To our sister class, the sophomores, we leave our love and good-will. To the freshmen we leave our unimpeachable school-spirit, and our gift for obtaining the banner each quarter of our senior year. Finally we, the individual members of the class, leave our personal possessions as follows: I, Elbertine Adams, do hereby give and bequeath my quiet dignity to Marie Mecklem. I, Cecilie Applegath. do hereby give and bequeath my skill along literary lines to Helen Peters. I, Lillian Bennett, do hereby give and bequeath my Terpsichorean art to Nancy Chipman. I, Matilda Bowman, do hereby give and bequeath my lyric voice to Mary Malarkey. I, Julia Bradley, do hereby give and bequeath my unassuming manner to Jane Cullers. I, Analene Cohen, do hereby give and bequeath my stage whisper to Barbara Clark. :: [-1 i... a 1 i t I, Lucille George, do hereby give and bequeath my demureness to Priscilla House. I, Edythe Hartley, do hereby give and bequeath my bright and shining pin which is always in evidence, to Dorothy Livesly. I, Gwendolyn Hall, do hereby give and bequeath my dramatic ability to Ardella Sweek. I, Virginia Kissling, do hereby give and bequeath my un-senior-like giggle to Marjorie Holman. I, Jane Knapp, do hereby give and bequeath my sweet, modest and retiring nature to Mary Louise Zan. i 1 ;i i I, Myrna Lamser, do hereby give and bequeath my inability to stop talking in study hall to Maybelle Allen. _r. I 1 m �Bsi DELPHIC 24 I, Catherine Martin, do hereby give and bequeath my magnetic personality to Elizabeth Martin and Muriel Barde. They may settle the rightful ownership between them. I Marjorie Mariner, do hereby give and bequeath my indomitable school spirit to Dorothy Cannon. I, Irene Mackay, do hereby give and bequeath my sweet disposition to Helen Spencer. I, Evelyn Meyer, do hereby give and bequeath my scholastic ability to Nancy Carpenter. I, Donna Magnuson, do hereby give and bequeath my artistic ability to Mary Alice Meyer. I, Catherine Mayhew, do hereby give and bequeath my engaging smile to Bernice Congleton. 1, Margaret McKern, do hereby give and bequeath my diligence to Rhoda Jane Gantenbein. I, Lilias Peltier, do hereby give and bequeath my notes on Burke to any future English aspirant. I, Velma Payne, do hereby give and bequeath my naivete to Dawn Francis Pipes. 1, Celeste Proctor, do hereby give and bequeath my regal mien to Francis Loomis. I, Marjorie Pittock, do hereby give and bequeath my unhappy faculty for “getting in bad” to Dorothy Mautz. I, Beverly Roberts, do hereby give and bequeath my unsatiable appe­ tite for green olives to Jerry Kirby. I, Dorothy Statter, do hereby give and bequeath my “Savoir Faire” to Betsy Abbott. to Rob^afap^a ^ar^ent’ herebY §'ve anb bequeath my dignity of office Grace ^McK ^GWa^’ bereby §*ve anb bequeath my romantic nature to I, MiUre^Reyno^0 hefeby Mary ^ beqU6ath ^ PenSiV6 air to I, nowHpn'!rre' Torry, do hereby give and bequeath my decided talent for powdering my nose to Dorothy Latta. We, the on this and twenty-five ^ hereby set our hand and seal this document ^ear one tbousancI nineteen hundred (Witnesses) EVELYN MEYER. BETTY SEWALL (Signed) MARJORIE PITTOCK. i 1 i w__ �BESSgjjPWg !i M DELPHIC I E 1\ Abraham Lincoln Abraham Lincoln, the greatest American, was born on Rocky Springs farm, Lane County, Kentucky, February 12, 1809. His parents, Thomas and Nancy Lincoln, were of good Kentucky pioneer families but very poor. Thomas was a church-goer and held advanced ideas on what was already an important question in Kentucky, “the right to hold negroes as slaves.” This shows he must have been a man of some natural intelligence. Their home was one of the ordinary poorer western pioneer type— a one-roomed cabin with a huge outside chimney and home manufactured household utensils. Thus two people endured many hardships and in spite of them made a home where a boy conceived and nourished ideas and enthusiasms such as inspired Abraham from his earliest years up to his assassination. When he was seven his mother died and a thrifty stepmother took charge. In the log cabin school he attended he learned but little and that elementary, but he borrowed books from farmers and eagerly devoured them. His thirst for knowledge was great and unfortunately his oppor­ tunities were woefully small. �26 DELPHIC From earliest childhood he had helped support the family and after various odd jobs he obtained work in a cross-roads store. His political speeches won him a reputation and made him a favorite at the crude socials of the settlement. At seventeen he had reached his full height of six feet four inches, and wrestled well, but, however, was never known to use his extraordinary strength to the injury or humiliation of others. When nineteen he traveled to New Orleans as a flat boat hand and returning worked until the spring of 1830, when his father moved to Illinois. While serving as a storekeeper in New Salem he studied his first law books. Then the appeal of politics engaged him and in 1831 he became a candidate for the House of Representatives of Illinois. His election speeches are most remarkable for a self-educatd man. The Black Hawk war intervened. Abe volunteered and was elected Captain. His most noteworthy deed of valor consisted in protecting an old savage who had strayed into camp at the position. His career after three elections was not remarkably brilliant, ambitious though he was. Not seeking re-election, he entered into a law partnership in Springfield, Illinois. Unlike many lawyers his reputation was due to his upright character which inspired trust. Lincoln loved but once, Ann Rutledge, who, unfortunately, died young, and later he married Mary Todd. ...... amrftnp His main ambition was that of political distinction but hardly anyone would at that time have seen in him a man destined to lead the nation through her greatest crisis of the century. poneress His time had not yet come when in 1846 he was elected CfJ (he and on the expiration of his term was filled with despair h He aims dearest his heart were not at present shared by the^ 1^.^ was offered the governorship of Oregon, but helmed > to Springfield, gave himself with renewed zest to his la P ^ new The Kansas-Nebraska Bill was now ’h le significance of territories to slavery and suddenly reveae and thrust itself into the slavery question to the people of the free state like an the politics of the country as a Para™ " ' f business were startled electric shock flashed through the North. Men ot into alarm and excitedly took sides. advanced to a conspicuous Lincoln's time had come and he ™P'd^f.^jon appe aled to the position in the struggle, inasmuch as the si y <J highest in him. . Stephen Douglas an Min® " He discovered a formidable rival in remarkable rapidity and lacked :r than Lincolns bu h senator. Douglas had risen in politics with and reputation and successes were far greaterof individuality, honest) Lincoln's greatest power, the charm He then S,TSn »««„. . =»did.,e lo,''of had reached the full maturity of h.s powers �m DELPHIC 27 1858 better equipped than ever before. Unfortunately, he was but little known, and Douglas was re-elected. Later, at the National Republican Convention, Lincoln was nomi­ nated for the presidency by a majority of fifty-eight votes and was elected. The result had hardly been declared when the secessionists in the South framed a separate constitution, electing Jefferson Davis as their president. The situation might be called appalling,—the larger part of the South in open rebellion and the rest of the slave-holding states wavering. This was the state of affairs to be mastered by Lincoln, who had no power of position, but slight experience of higher executive duties, and only speaking acquaintances with the men upon whose counsel and co-operation he was to depend. He followed a cautious policy through the first year of the war that did not satisfy even his party, The North believed one powerful blow could crush the rebellion, but Lincoln held back until the South struck the first blow, which it did on April 12, 1861. Instantly the North rushed to arms, Lincoln’s policy was first to preserve the Union, and second to free the slaves. As the war dragged on with Union disasters, the need of some great act to stimulate the vitality of the Union grew greater. On July 21, ’62, Lincoln brought before his cabinet a draft of a proclamation declaring free all slaves living in states still in rebellion, and on hearing of the victory at Antietam, Lincoln issued the Preliminary Emancipation Procla­ mation on September 23. The disasters of Fredericksburg and Chancelorville followed, but with the victories of Gettysburg and Vicksburg the whole aspect of the war changed. The fate of the rebellion was virtually decided and Lincoln issued pardons to rebels who would take an oath to support the constitution. In June, 1864. Lincoln was re-elected president by an overwhelming majority, This hour of triumph called out the characteristic impulses of Lincoln’s nature. His party’s opposition had stung him to the quick and now that his opponents were humiliated before him, he gave his hand in friendship to all. Peace was declared and the North was wild with joy. Everywhere bells pealed and multitudes thronged the thoroughfares, when suddenly the news flashed over the land—Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated. The nation was stunned and then a wail of sorrow went up as America had never heard before, North and South alike mourned the man who had striven for their good and the Union. Nor was America alone in her sorrow—all the civilized nations of the world mourned the loss of him, whose international reputation had not diminished but increased as years have gone by, for no president, not even Washington, has been so recognized by the world as Lincoln, rightly called the greatest American. Edythe Hartley, ’25. i: j n ' ■ I . V I I; m ?• si i <1; i j �■ 28 DELPHIC Quel Soir! Moon in crescent, as nights of old When Arabs through the stillness stole To woo the maids of Zanzibar Sand under foot—o’er head the star. Balmy breeze like sultry breath Of heated southlands’ pallid death Steals through the latticed vines above As gently as Venetian dove. Stillness reigns! but for the hale Of weird bat or nightingale, And shadows cross the velvet creep To wake the crickets’ dormant sleep. Rustling leaves give melody And living spirituality As music sent from far above. Ah! Nights like these were made for love. —Beatrice Foster, ’27. Abraham Lincoln Everyone knows about Abraham Lincoln; they know about his boy­ hood, and they know about the important part he played in the Civil War, but no one can ever fully comprehend the character of the man. He was a man apart; from his boyhood to his death he lived differently from the ordinary run of men. His whole life was one long, unending striving. First he worked for an education, and his effort was repaid by a given talent beyond most other men, that of speaking. Later he worked for a position. He wanted to be a lawyer, and then he became prominent in politics. The subject of slavery and secession brought him his fame. Not that Lincoln desired fame; he was a man who had principles behind him, and his zeal in working for his principles won his fame. His famous debate against Stephen Douglas won his place as Pre~, en* ^ bunion, and promoter of the coming union, o j/16 War was inevitable, and the storm burst at last when the i6rn ,te,S secpded. Feeling naturally ran high at this time, and WOlv, a§ainst manY enemies as well as friends. The Southhred np °U^ f • ideals ^e courage and fearlessness that was cononprpde?i?ratl°nS blue-bloods. Starvation was the only thing that Lincoln stoo^behindVem’ ^ N°rtherners fouSht for PrinciPles’ and borne ^hp^iird016^ a America was born, but the man who had en of a nation’s destiny did not live to see the outcome. Si V �Si v- k 29 DELPHIC One day he was alive, and suffering with his South as well as his North, for Lincoln did love the South as well as the North, and even though he disagreed, nevertheless he felt keenly their suffering. He was as lenient to the haughty Southerners as he could be. He was even criticized for his so-called ‘‘easiness.” The next day a nation was numbed at the news of his death. That was Lincoln’s work, which has been told of so many times and which we all admire. But one must know the man himself to really love him. Lincoln was homely, tall and ungainly, stoop-shouldered and shoddily dressed, and yet an entire nation revered him. It was not the force and courage which made him carry on a war in which brother fought against brother. It was not the' righteousness of his principles, for even the Southerners, who thought his principles were all wrong, loved him, although their pride often denied it. It was the look in his dark, sunken eyes, and the ineffable sadness which surrounded him. When he spoke you felt he was your friend, He was self-sacrificing and generous, but his was even a greater power, the power of having mercy, and the power of understanding. Lincoln was never self-conscious, he never felt his own importance, and he even lacked self-confidence. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and loved to tell a funny story. He would _ enjoy his . listener’s mirth greatly and then his face would become serious again as if he never really dropped the burden he was carrying. At Gettysburg after the battle he went to address the people. He r~ wrote a short speech, which he knew was not very. good, but which was the best he was capable of. The next day he addressed the people, and when his speech was ended a soft sigh rippled through the crowd, but there was no applause, and Lincoln thought he had failed. His sensitive nature felt a failure keenly, and it was not until two days later that he found out the effect of his Gettysburg Address. This was the man of sorrows, who carried his country through its greatest crisis, and only a man such as he could have done this. Betty Sewall, ’25. if *r i 8 m E k; V, § ■ II I l 1 rT. Spring The life of all things born anew, The sweet promise of eternity, The lilac bending low with dew; This is the Spring, and e’er shall be Like to a bird’s call through the rain, Herald of hope come back again. —Cecilie Applegath, ’25. ■ i m & �m3 30 DELPHIC Development of the Novel The first English novel was John Lyly’s "Euphues" Its disconnected, used only as thread on which to bring the luflffi, o!f Very tions on life. The chief interest of that novel lfy in its^tvle notT plot. It instantly became the model for the popular romances o the r™f'r ™hy’ however were not true novels, for instead of dealing i real life they dealt with a world of fancy. g n Then another step toward the modern novel was taken That was the introduction of the realistic story. These were short stories concern­ ing every day characters and events. Many of them were modeled after the Spanish type known as “Picaresque”, of which the hero was a rogue and the plot formed by his adventures. These events took place about the beginning of the seventeenth century, a short while before Daniel Defoe was born. Defoe wrote the first realistic novel, Robinson Crusoe. The story is not remarkable for any complexity of plot, but because it is a piece of pure fiction told in such a manner as to seem plausible. Defoe omitted all the flowery language and romance of Lyly’s school. He followed the latter s lead in that he wrote a novel instead of a short story, but he borrowed the realism of the short story writers. The next age saw that rapid development of the novel. It was an age entirely devoted to prose. The drama had failed, but it left behind it elements that were quickly absorbed by the novel. These were: Devel­ opment of character and plot. The essays also added dscriptions and character studies. The first author to produce a novel with these new elements added was Samuel Richardson. He had been asked to prepare a small volume of letters to help country people who did not know the art of letter writing. Richardson thought that the epistles would be more interesting if made to tell a story and illustrate a moral. The result was “Pamela , the first novel of a type that immediately became exceedingly popular. It is the type known as the “sentimental novel’’. Lawrence Sterne, a follower of Richardson, added to this type a quiet humor which the latter lacked. At this same time Fielding developed the realistic type of novel. Whereas Richardson wrote of super-refined people, Fielding wrote of the common people with a realism sometimes coarse. His “Tom Jones pre­ sents the first well rounded plot in English fiction. Smollett, another realisitc writer, introduced the remote .ancestor of the sea stories later developed by Cooper. By the end of this century the established types of novels were, the sentimental novel; the novel of society; the novel of which the main purpose was to point a moral; and the novel of adventure. Some char­ acters found in almost any of the popular novels were: the sentimenta woman, the polished villain, the kindly old man, the long suffering hero, and the eccentric character. Cornelia Ireland, ’26. �DELPHIC 3! Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale ■s ! s: ;! ’ ; 1 i ' ! I ! i ; ! . To the salon of one who was soon to be known as London’s most charming and entertaining hostess was invited, "to meet James Woodhouse”, one who, to those who did not know and understand the soul within, was a boor, rude, eccentric, at times even to intolerance. The former was Mrs. Thrale, pretty, gay, and agreeable, who used James Woodhouse, the shoemaker poet, as a bait to draw to her home one later recognized as one of the greatest literary men of the time. The latter was Johnson—Dictionary Johnson, Doctor Johnson, but more often just plain Sam Johnson. Such an invitation was readily accepted, not for the pleasure of meeting James Woodhouse, but because of the alluring prospect of a good dinner. The following week a second invitation was extended, from the rec­ ords of which the name of Janies Woodhouse is absent, since he had served his purpose. Thus was begun a very dear and close friendship between the two a friendship that stood the enduring test of twenty years, and was inter­ rupted only by the marriage of Mrs. Thrale to Mr. Piozzi. During those twenty years, Johnson spent most ot his time at the various homes of the Thrales, even accompanying them on their jour­ neys. When he traveled alone, as he sometimes did, he wrote long letters to his friends whom he affectionately termed his master and mistress. At the same time he kept his lodging in a court of Fleet street, where he afforded a home to what Mrs. Thrale called "hi* menagerie of old women”. With them he dined two or three times a week. But it was the library at Streatham that was particularly devoted to his service. Here at times he worked on his "Lives of the J OCtS , but more often held his own against all comers, “whether iri playful con­ versations or deep discussions”. To determine who gained more by this friendship would be To Johnson it brought love and kindness into a life that would otherwise have been dreary; to him it was a friendship which filled a gap which , . . {f{ even Boswell could not have bridged. For the Thrales it secured what they most desired- socialP<^,'n and distinction. Their house was a center where the best and society of the time was entertained. Intimates of thei > - * Johnson and Goldsmith; Garrick and Burke; Burney aw *1 , ' Boswell and a host of others, many of whose portraits, j Reynolds himself, adorned the walls of the Streatham b ,, , But it was Johnson himself who first gave tion. and it was he who remained the greatest friend woman who entertained these learned throngs. Evfcj.y.** Mi.YJvfc, '26, �----- 32 DELPHIC Days Days are sometimes dreadfully lonesome Days are sometimes just as blue. But the days of song and sunshine Make us happy, don’t you think? I do. Days I want to scold and grumble, Be as mean as I can be; Tear the house down, bang the doors, Oh! Have you ever felt like me? Days I cry and feel so badly, Think that everything goes wrong, Only want to be unhappy, Why, then, don’t I sing a song? Days again I feel so merry, Everything is smooth and gay, Then I know the joy of living My whole life is in that day. —Irene Mackay, ’25. The Diary of a “Man About Town” (Based on Sir Roger de Coverley Papers) December 18, 1724. Arose late after last night's ball. Jenkin’s reported my tailor to be here with something of the latest style of waistcoats; spent the morn­ ing deciding whether 1 would have an extremely handsome blue, or a dotted purple, which Jones, who had dropped in, assured me was after my figure; think I will have it if I can persuade my uncle that my law study is really coming on. After dressing, which took longer than usual, as I desired to make a good impression on Lady Marley, whose daughter is reputed to have no small dowry—as well as innumerable charms, repaire to the coffee house to await the hour of the play, which was somet ing out of the ordinary, being a bewitching caricature of the wager usterely. Went on to Lord Bromeley’s after the play, feeling tail !S ,ed ? t0 Lady Marley and her daughter; Bromeley’s enterth(,Tc W3S °f the best’ and J°nes and Brown had a lively dispute over exceed!na?SS re«a?!n* tbe w’dow Hemley, whose property interests them a waopr -f oks Jones wil1 secure the prize and have even laid law-suit tn 1 WIt^ Bromeley- We discussed whether Selby will win his time * SOme ength. In fact, 'twas a most enjoyable argumentative "tlirT5 t0r the country tomorrow, has invited Jones and me to came home thic y Im, ^0r tbe hunt; am delighted, as my hunting coat would have a new^ne fearful that Jones> who is a dear felloW’ tore meBetty Parry, ’26. �i 't DELPHIC 33 1 ■* Salljr Sally Worth had a dreadful disposition, in fact a most disagreeable one. Her family could do nothing with her. Ah, yes, they had tried, but in vain. The by-word of the house was never to say anything to Sally to thwart her, for if this rule was ever violated, a hysterical out­ burst was the result. She had such an annoying way of looking hurt, and with her manner of gentle broken-heartedness, it was impossible to scold her. In fact the family, which was made up of Mr. Worth, had now reached the stage when he received Sally’s frequent outbursts very calmly. Sally herself decided that she needed a rest cure, The idea of lying in a hospital horrified her, for the sense of having to lie in a spotless white bed in a spotless white room, beside a spotless piece of human machinery, commonly called a nurse was too much for her idea of a rest. As a result, she hied herself off to the country, despite the protests of her father and her “I told you so relations”, consisting of aunts and cousins. She settled herself as a boarder in a pleasant, rambling farmhouse quite a distance from the city, in company with a personal maid as chaperon and attendant for her various wants. The farm delighted her and from her window she could see avenues of swaying green poplar trees, grassy meadows and fruit trees in full blossom, with snow-capped mountains majestically forming a background. She became enraptured, but deeming herself a nuerasthenic (nerves), she promptly prepared for bed, where she claimed she could lie and watch many beautiful things, though deep down in her heart, we think that perhaps she had a longing to run outside and proclaim the joy of living; but perhaps, again, it was not awakened in her as yet. Everything progressed splendidly until the next morning when Sally s temper manifested itself. She rang for her maid as was her custom. No answer; a deep solemnity pervaded the farmhouse. Her temper . ©gin­ ning to rise rapidly, she kept her hand on the bell and rang furiously. Still only the mocking echo of the bell resounded in her ears then silence prevailed. Now the temper being completely out of control, she threw the covers violently back from the bed, donned a pink imono and slipped her feet into some pink bedroom slippers that stoo y bed. Hastily she jammed a few hairpins into her dark curls an sta e to the door, her wrath completely overwhelming her. That she, daughter of Colonel Worth, should be so outrageously treated! Where was that girl? Didn’t she know perfectly well that Miss Sally Worth was used t being washed, manicured, combed and breakfasted at t is time in morning? Bang! And a book on the bell kept a dismal wail burring through the house. Out stalked Sally toward the downstairs, She was finding her way down the unaccustomed circular stairway when a muttered, W-. \ £ ; V I * [a >a �34 .. DELPHIC “Who can be making that infernal racket?” reached her ears, She stopped short and listened. A muffled pad as of human footsteps reached her ears. She clutched her gown about her and started to retrace her steps when around the curve of the stairway appeared a man, young and handsome. He stopped short. Sally stared in wild-eyed astonish­ ment. He stared. Then they both burst out laughing, and so long and hard that soon they felt as though they were old acquaintances. “Where is everyone?” demanded Sally, her temper beginning to yawn and weaken again. “Gone!” responded the amazing young man. “Gone! Gone!—but where? I’ve got to have attention “Oh, you’re the new boarder, aren’t you?” Then he laughed. Sally bristled and her temper did likewise. “I beg your pardon,” said the man. I laughed because of the thought—you see I’m a new boarder too—of two new boarders being so stranded—you see—” He paused. “M-mh,” said Sally and the sulks began to disappear and a smiling dimple took place. “Jove, but she’s adorable!” thought the young man. “I like him,” mused Sally to herself. Then, both realizing their positions, Sally hesitated, and the young man said: “As we are both in distress, I feel it my duty to help you. I shall prepare the furnace as well as I can. Till breakfast!” and with a smile and a nod he was gone. Sally brightened visibly and with amazing speed for a person suf­ fering from nerves she ran back to her room and sang while she dressed. Fifteen minutes later she found her way to the kitchen and there perceived a black-haired individual with a black smudge on the end of his nose vainly striving to fry some bacon that for some reason or other was very anxious to burn. “Do let me help,” cried Sally, much to her astonishment, as the words fell from her lips. But she had started it, and she would go through with it. “Soon a lovely heat stole up through the house and the aroma of fried bacon and eggs and coffee filled the air. Indeed, and it was not long before two hungry young people sat down to enjoy a makeshift breakfast. “I think,” said Sally demurely, “that it would be better if we were introduced. I'm Sally Worth.” “Ha, I had fairly forgotten. I assure you the pleasure is all mine. I am David Gratton, civil engineer, at your service.” Sally smiled. “But you haven’t told me yet where the folks are, my maid and all—” A frown settled on the young man’s forehead. “I have been trying to figure it out myself. I believe that everyone �DELPHIC 35 except perhaps your maid went to the big show that was given in the town last night. You know they have to cross a river three miles from here, and I think that something—” Ding—r-ring—r-ring— The phone! Sally clutched her chair and David dashed towards the phone. Sally could only grasp, now and then, excited bits of conversation. ‘‘What—none hurt—dam broke—stranded—hello, hell—yes, yes— maid missing—broke. Thanks, yes—Good-bye.” Miss Worth,” exclaimed David. “Now we have the cause of it all.” Yes—yes?” queried Sally. ‘They all went to the show, got to town all right. Everything was fine until they started home. They couldn’t reach the bridge for miles. The dam had broken, covered the bridge entirely, and they are stranded on the other side waiting for the water to recede. Thank goodness, it cannot reach this place because it is situated on this hill.” Ah,” Sally gasped, ‘‘but Jane, she must have gone out after them, when they didn’t return, and been lost. Oh, I do hope nothing has hap­ pened to her!” "Everything will be all right, Miss Worth; please don’t upset your­ self. I am positive they will be able to reach here before tonight.” T hope so,” said Sally. Miss Worth, if you will pardon me, 1 will go outside and see what I can do around the place.” ‘‘Certainly, Mr. Gratton.” Sally, left to her own resources as she had never been before in her young life, felt lost in an impenetrable forest of food, dishes and more dishes, and she had no idea which way to turn. She simply must show Mr. Gratton that she was somewhat capable. She must put some more wood in the stove. Oh, but the door was hot, and Sally nursed a burned finger. Her indomitable temper came to the fore, and Sally’s complaint would have reasserted itself had not her eyes caught a tiny motto on the wall above her. “Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep and you weep alone.” Sally frowned, choked, swallowed and bravely smiled. For once the antagonistic temper had been conquered. She swept the floor, cleaned up generally, and was just finishing washing the dishes when she heard a sound, and with a flushed face and disheveled curly hair, she turned to the door in time to see a handsome face, scowling darkly, change to a smiling one at the sight of her. Sally guessed a little, put two and two together and smiled. He returned it. ! - fn r-rM B &; ::: iff & lV. Four o’clock that afternoon found David and Sally sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse watching and waiting for news, anxious and worried, yet strangely contented with each other’s company. �I 1 36 DELPHIC The hours slipped by and neither one nor the other noticed their passage. Sally told of her life and that she was the only child and was “so sulky and had a horrible temper”. David grinned sheepishly. “1 confess we should have known each other long ago. We are kindred spirits. If what you say is true. 1 am also troubled with the same inquietude of the mind and my glower is my only weapon, and 1 fear 1 have learned to use it not wisely but too well, and—ah, look! 1 believe 1 can see some people coming this way. See i “Yes, yes!” cried Sally. “It’s they! I am so glad.” Out they ran to meet the folks. Weary, bedraggled and worn, Mother and Daddy Fowler and Jane came into the house and sighed with relief at the sight of comfortable chairs and a roaring fire blazing in the fireplace. Sally almost hugged Jane, so glad was she to see her. Of course excitement reigned and everyone tried to talk at once. “Where—and yes—” “You did—and—” Lost—but found—Oh—” “Miss Worth, I do hope—nerves—all right.” “Yes—we I,—happy now.” Sally sighed. Weren’t they just like one large happy family, and wasn’t she one of them? Where were her nerves, her fretful cries, her troubles? She felt free, gloriously free, and young, so young, and she remembered, “God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.” And feeling so happy that a warm tear splashed on her cheeks, she slipped quietly out of doors, and sitting on the porch, watching the moon rise large and solemn, she felt the joy of living and thought of the great lesson she had learned that day, that would go with her all through her life. And who was responsible? She smiled. She simply couldn’t keep him out of her thoughts. Unconsciously she said aloud— “David!” “Yes, Sally.” She started, and looking up saw David standing watching her. He had slipped out after her. “Sally, if 1 may say so, it was by chance that we met today, yet my life seems strangely changed.” Sally sat motionless with eyes downcast. “And we seem so much alike ” “And we both have howling dispositions,” added Sally, trying not to smile. David mused. “Perhaps, but you’re so sweet—” “And”, said Sally. “And, Oh, Sally, I don’t know why 1 love you, but I do.” Irene Mackay, ’25. �DELPHIC 37 Character in Clocks All clocks are eternally stubborn. There are very few exceptions to this rule, in fact I doubt if there are any at all. If we are in a mad rush to catch a train or get to school on time, every clock redoubles its efforts to skip three out of every five minutes. First of all there is the wrist watch, a tiny, frivolous thing, forever being late and needing so much attention. Truly, she is a flapper with her gold, silver and platinum settings. Often she revenges herself by breaking her crystal. I think this is done so she may have a week of rest in a repair shop. As a contrast I will take the stately grandfather clock next. With his aristo­ cratic head cocked on one side, he is forever telling us that he came over on the Mayflower, and he couldn’t possibly converse with those insignifi­ cant mantle clocks. With all his ancestry and pedigree, he seldom ever runs, and says his mistress prefers him to be just an antique. Then there is the ship’s clock, healthy and hardy, and scarcely dig­ nified. Rather careless, I would say, with a broken leg or hand, and a dirty face. Nevertheless he is always cheerful. Personally, I like him, although it might not be proper. The alarm clock!! Mercy, how terrible. The unattractive, homely, spiteful old thing. She usually revenges herself by going off in the mid­ dle of the night and never stops her dastardly noise until we use brute force. Last of all is the study hall clock, rather battered to be sure. She is very simple and never even strikes. I think she is dreadfully stubborn and loves to be slow when empty stomachs are just aching to have attention at ten minutes before eleven. Mayanna Sargent, ’25. The Dying Sun He dies— As a pagan god who wounded lies In splendor ’neath his Grecian skies. From his bier— His silence speaks as phantom seer, Mysteries of an unknown sphere. At his side— Cloud ghosts in rainbow colors glide, Who by his radiance are dyed. Alas,— A fading gleam,—and he shall pass To his sepulchral crevasse! —Helen-Gray Gatens, ’27. ■ �38 DELPHIC Purely a Fantasy^ ■; ■ k In the days of my youth I heard of a city called Venice, where there were no streets, only vast canals, where everything was ideal, a place known the world over for its beauty. Nowadays when people speak of Venice (those who have been there) they can never seem to find words enough to express just what they thought of it. Friends of mine, just home from a trip abroad, who have, of course, stopped at Venice, tell me what a frightful place it is, with its shabby, ramshackle buildings, the dull, slimy waters which lick the edges of the dusty walks, and on those waters, where idyllic gondolas used to glide, common, ordinary boats. “When you go to Europe”, a friend told me once, “don’t go to Venice. It simply isn’t worth the trouble. Everyone who has been there will tell you the same thing. This idea everyone has of its being so remarkably beautiful! Ugh! Nothing beautiful about it!” “But surely”, I told her, “there must be something there, something must have given rise to all this beauty I used to hear about. Why Venice to me is traditional—1 can never think of Venice without connect­ ing it with beauty and romance, with its clear blue skies in daylight, and starlit ones at night.” And it is true, I never do think of Venice without weaving for myself a chain of pictures of this old city, all of them idealistic. On arriving there, as far as I can see, there is water, lovely, clear blue, azure water, or perhaps at times, it is a deep, emerald green, with yellow and rose lights here and there. It depends, of course, a great deal on the sky. Most times when I think of the sky there, it is blue, but sometimes it changes to a hazy green. I always arrive there quite early in the morning, not too early, but just after the sun has come up and has taken away that chilly feeling that the dawn so often brings with it. Then 1 see, beside the water, long tiled avenues, all miraculously clean, with never a spot of dust or dirt on their green surface. For they are all tiled in a dull, dark green. The houses are made of stone, gray stone tinted with rose, which darkens into a bronze in places, and they are all decorated with scrolls and spirals hewn out of the stone. These houses are built practically on the sidewalks, and are all of a size and are almost identical with one another. Each house seems to have dozens of little curved Romeo and Juliet like balconies. At this hour in the morning the shutters of each house are closed, and the whole place has a silent, deserted look, al­ though I can see one or two wraith-like gondolas in the distance. Then suddenly 1 hear somewhere, quite a distance away, the sound of bells chiming, and immediately the whole town awakes. The shops along the main avenue are opened and the shutters of all the houses are flung wide, and people begin moving about. I see many gondola? �DELPHIC 39 moving up and down the canals, and little boys come out and play at sailing boats in the water at their very doorsteps. All day we wander about, either along the walks or in a gondola which we have hired, The gondoliers are distinctly picturesque with their bright headdresses and many colored scarfs. While passing down one canal we come upon a lovely, delicately designed, arched bridge, which seem to connect the second stories of two very palatial dwellings. This, I realize, is the “Bridge of Sighs,” the very bridge that, I think it is Poe, mentions in one of his stories. Then late in the afternoon, somehow, I lose my companion, a young lady, and while searching for her frantically, 1 meet a very handsome gentleman, whom I have known ever so well in America. We shake hands delightedly, and he looks into my eyes, and I look into his, and 1 know that something very, very interesting is going to happen, and I forget all about my friend whom 1 have lost. By this time the sun is setting and the sky has turned a beautiful rose and gold and crimson color and the reflection over the water is the same. And John (his name is always John) suggests that we have tea together beneath one of those delightfully quaint little porticoes over there. I agree readily, and while we are talking over old times and getting acquainted all over again, the sun sets over in the west. When we have finished tea we find that it is later than we had thought, and the sky is gradually growing darker, and 1 notice that the moon is rising and that it is full, It is such a beautiful evening that we both decide that the most pleasant way of spending it together will be to hail a passing gondola and to glide drowsily along in it. When we are are finally settled among the rugs and cushions, we watch the lights playing on the water and the twinkling stars, and the full moon, which in itself is a very favorable omen. And it is about this time that 1 decide that I adore John even more than I thought I did over in America, and I had liked him immensly over there. For, you see, there is an atmosphere about this Venice of mine, which makes one see the world and life through a roseate mist. And while the gondolier plays a dreamy melody on his mandolin, I feel a hand on mine, and arm about me, and we drift on and on. And that is the Venice of my dreams. M. A. P., ’25. 4 cTWidnight Midnight has come, when drowsiness Lures me to the land of dreams. The old world seems asleep—but Even it is restless and awake, While those in their dark corners Of the balmy sleep partake. —Beatrice Foster, ’27. * �40 DELPHIC An Accident Jacqueline was enjoying herself to the limit. It was her pet position, (You see, her father did not allow anyone to put their feet on the couch), her feet cosily curled underneath her and a ridiculously superfluous amount of pillows cushioned around her. She was reading “The Little French Girl,” and between the most vitally interesting parts, she snatched bits of a luscious red, juicy apple, and some delicious fudge. She had made it herself. That alone guaranteed it. And then- -the end—of the story, 1 mean. Of course it was too bad that the story should ever end, but how very sleepy she was! A dance the night before. Wouldn’t it be delightful if something lovely and romantic would happen to her—Jacqueline herself. But no, such things were confined to stories, yet you can never tell. This uncertain life. A crash of squeaking breaks! Oh! Almost immediately a crowd gathered on the corner. A girl had been run down. She had fainted. The young man, who had been driving the car (it was not his fault, the accident) was very anxious. He would take her to a hospital at once. She must have immediate attention. The next morning, very much propped with pillows in a big white bed, her right arm in a sling, and feeling very uncomfortable on account of a clumsy white bandage, cocked just above her left eyebrow, to cover an ugly cut in her forehead, Jacqueline looked forlorn and small, but utterly adorable. She couldn’t help looking adorable, ever. She was wondering how she had got there, when the nurse came in with a card. On it was engraved the name, John King. Jacqueline had heard of him. He was famous for having played on the university team. He was young, handsome and fabulously wealthy. Jacqueline was puzzled, ex­ tremely puzzled. The nurse volunteered, “He asked me to tell you that e is the man that ran over you yesterday.” Jacqueline said, ‘‘Oh.’ Jacqueline said, “Oh,” again, then, “Please tell him to come right in.” irst appeared a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, all her favorites— pink and lavendar sweet peas, orchids, and pink roses. And then the n imse . He surpassed her fondest hope and wildest dream. He had emhJlr?6 °J the savoir'faire she had expected. He was just a very embarrassed young man, come to atone for his misdeeds. this hencmf11 * tGlL y?u how sorrY I am. 1 surely hope you’ll be out of it. if vo y ™ess kefore l°ng. It was just my tough luck to have done wouldn’t be half so*630 unattractive and had refused to see me, I reply ax ah°e r know just what to say to that, so she made no conveniently ram*™6** y thanked hi™ for the flowers. Then the nurse to come again 10 t0 Say doctor wished to see her. John asked br°ught her^omethlno ^ ag?in' g every time. They had got along riPPingly' f)e. Something clever and funny that �DELPHIC 41 they could laugh over together. This time it had been a two month’s old Sealyham terrier. John leaned forward and took her hand. “Jack’leen —sweetheart—” Jacqueline started in her sleep. It was John alright, her big brother, and an awful tease, waking her by strenuous handshake. Jacqueline rubbed her eyes, “It was all a dream, I might have known it.” Dorothy Mautz, ’26. Civilized Indians Under the boughs of a huge spreading maple tree stood a wigwam with deer and fishes and buffaloes painted on the outside. In the eyes of its inhabitants it was a marvel among wigwams,” just like the kind you read about in story books.” But on this particular day things did not seem to be going on very well in the wigwam. Loud were the cries that issued forth, not at intervals, but continuously. Suddenly a girl of about ten burst out of the entrance of the tent followed by a boy some years her elder. “All right for you. Kent Jordon, you won’t see me coming near your old wigwam again. What’s more you needn’t think you can be coming over to my house and playing with my things.” “Now listen here, Anne, just because you couldn’t have the name you wanted you go and get mad. Can’t you let Alice be Minnehaha once in a while?” “Well, do you ever let Jimmie be Hiawatha? Now listen to me, Mr. Smarty, if I can’t be who I want I won’t play.” “All right then don’t. I don’t want to be bothered with you anyway.” Being feminine, Anne got the parting word, “I’ll never speak to you again” echoed back as she disappeared over the top of the fence. Oh, how she remembered it all, and how humiliating it was. Kent had gone away to military school and then to an eastern college and Anne hadn’t seen or heard from him for eight years. Until one day she received a letter telling her that he was coming home, and remem­ bering her words to him, wanted to see if he couldn’t break her resolve. Anne had been more than surprised and rather startled to think he re­ membered. As she rode along the lane, leading up to the porch of their home, she found herself wondering what Kent would be like. He had been a good looking youngster and would probably be an awfully nice young man. His letter had testified to that. It was rather trying to have him remember her child-like ways, but then she could soon convince him that she had grown up as well as he. Anne was at that awful age where a girl is supposed to act grown up and dignified on occasion, but in her soul likes to do the same old childish things. ; v ? �42 I DELPHIC Anne knew that Kent was home for she had heard their car drive up from the station the evening before, and in the quiet summer twilight the voices of the people on the .Jordon’s front porch could easily be heard. Not that Anne was listening especially, but it pleased her to think that the musical deep voice she had heard quite often was Kent’s. Anne also knew that Kent, unless he had changed a great deal, would come over, but unhappily she didn’t know just when. Certainly she never dreamt that it would be at breakfast time in the morning. Anne was the kind of person that dressed in a great hurry so she could stay in bed longer. She also found it a great time-saver to slide down the long, smooth, mahogany banisters. This particular morning being no exception she jumped on, turning her back to the hallway, and down she sailed. She stopped dead at the bottom, afraid to turn her head for midway of her rapid descent she had heard an unmistakable chuckle. She was ruined! How could she ever make a dignified im­ pression on Kent with this for a beginning? Well, she would just have to carry it through. “Same old Anne, aren’t you?" said an easily recognisable voice. Anne turned a rueful face toward him, saying, "Do you think it’s nice to come in without telling anyone?” “Well, that’s a nice kind of a welcome to give me after I’ve been away all these years. By the way, how long are you in the habit of sitting there when you get down?” Remembering where she was, Anne quickly jumped down with flaming cheeks. This was worse that she had ever even imagined. What would be think of her? She seemed to be struck dumb. Looking up, she saw Kent rummaging around in a small closet. “Say, do you still keep your toys here? I thought we might have a g ® of tennis and get acquainted again. Is this racket your§s?” Here was a chance to redeem herself, thought “That’ll be great! Do they play much where you come from?” Anne. Of all the dumb, childish questions! She was thankful when they finallv reached • she could steady her shaken nerves a little "1S C°Urt a"d They had a dandy game and Anne liked „ i reflected that he hadn't changed sn Kentuas TCh as ever' She lunch, but was really rather relieved whenT^Ti uS1le &Sked him t0 dad to have lunch in town with him h SE“d he had Promised his .ooktdTrLrinundir:dhLsi,ar aIIf afternoon and — *e d°g efforts at friendliness, she jumped up IT"8 ,t0 recognize any of his first ring. Kent's voice sounded « the nth. mSked t0 the Phone at its dignified heart almost turned over r 6nd and Annes grown up, “I hear there’s a dance at the country club tonight. Want to run over?” ‘‘Yes, I’d love to, Kent.” �DELPHIC 43 “All right, I’ll be at your house sometime after supper.” Life was worth living once more! If he could go to a dance with her he couldn’t dislike her so very much. The usually speedy Anne spent hours getting dressed, because it was necessary to change her attire four times and finally deciding on the first dress. The family remarked on her extreme neatness, and was properly snubbed by Miss Eighteen. Just as Kent’s whistle sounded from below, Anne decided she wouldn’t them a yank flew down stairs. Soon they wear earrings and giving _ ... were off. The drive to the club was perfect. Anne was her own dignified self, and the more she saw of Kent the more she liked him. But as they walked up the drive Anne was doomed to another “come down.” i : “Say, Anne, 1 don’t know whether I am showing my ignorance or not, but isn’t that an earing hanging on the front of your dress?” Her heart sank. Why couldn’t she be able to avoid such embarrassing moments? And in answering there was just a little quaver in her voice, “Oh dear, why didn’t you tell me before?” “1 didn’t see it Anne, but it doesn’t matter, does it?” Anne was silent, there was no use in saying anything. There just wasn’t any hope for a girl like her that couldn’t grow up. How could he ever like her? He probably thought she was a baby. Silently she went to the dressing room, took off her wraps and joined Kent once again. They danced and Kent proved himself as good a dancer as he was a tennis player. He didn’t talk when he danced, and Anne liked him for that. People that have music in their souls and really like to dance don’t find it necessary to talk. As the last strain of “Moonlight and Roses” died softly away. Kent said, “Want to go out on the porch and cool off and talk a little? We haven’t had a chance to say anything much yet.” They sat in the cool summer starlight and talked, first laughingly °f the old kid days together, and then seriously of the life before them. It was so nice to talk to a boy, thought Anne, who could actually talk soberly. She was so sick of patter. Unspoiled little Anne didn’t realize how enchantingly pretty she was in her creamy dress against the dark green background of the vines. After some moments’ silence Kent made Anne really happy once more. Jove, but I like you, Anne,” he said boyishly, "you're so natural and impulsive. On the way home I thought a lot about you, wondering what you would be like. I hoped you would be a little different from other girs and you are.” Then softly, 'T’ve told you that l like you Anno. 0n t y°u ^11 me what you think of me?' e Anne w*?s silent a minute and then, looking into his honest brown y > she said, “You haven’t disappointed me, Kent." li, VW. �DELPHIC 44 << > Tis Better to Have Loved and Lost" Terry was disconsolate. She was angry with everyone in the whole, wide world, including herself. She wanted to cry, but was just the least bit too proud to let herself do it. “And then,” she argued valiantly, “I do look so awful after I finish crying, it really isn’t worth it.” So she didn’t cry just then, but turned to her mirror and gave herself a search­ ing look. “I am goodlooking,” she said aloud, “I don’t care if I do say it, and I’m sure I’m interesting, and I like to do things, and I’m a pretty good sport—and I don’t know what’s the matter with me! Everybody knows, or should know, that I don’t pretend to be as beautiful or popular as Glenn, (Glenn was her sister), but 1 should think somebody might pay even the least bit of attention to me. I’m not homely and I'm not dis­ agreeable, and I want to be popular!” And, strange to say, although she was proud, Terry put her head down in her arms and wept. Terry knew she was foolish to cry, no one knew it any better. Especially over such a thing as popularity. All “the girls” at school liked her immensely, there was certainly no lack of popularity in that direction. She was never a wall-flower at a dance, but neither was she ever the most sought after girl on the floor. Not that she wanted to be, but she did want to have someone, besides her partner, who was obliged, by courtesy, to save her from “sitting out,” seem very interested in her, beg to dance with her, and “cut in”—oh, ever so many times. Glenn was only a year older than she was, and yet everyone seemed to think she was twenty, or nineteen at the least, while Terry was seven­ teen. The trouble was, she decided, wiping her eyes, that she looked too young, acted too young, seemed too young in every way. Glenn looked aw ully much older, she always knew how to act, she had poise, and, above all, a “line.” But I hate lines, Terry told herself, bitterly, “and I don’t know how to cultivate one anyway, and I wouldn’t have one if I did know how. They re common and ordinary, and I’d much rather be myself, although nobody else seems to appreciate me as I am. Oh, I don't know what ^ Glenn (° P'3y her 3 Set of tennis, Glenn re‘ Ihem ' Ru Sht H P.r0m,sed Dick and Tom and Jim to play with We'd he plat b 3 e ’ y,°U C3n come out t00> if you want to, Terry, we d be glad to have you play with us. makeNfive0fanyri°Ul’ tried her best t0 be offhand. “But I’d Another riL 1 V u * WOrk 0ut very well. It’ll have to be another time, I guess. Then to herself, “Same old story ” whole week- SelfishSngf h0f Qenn had Sone t0 the beach for 3 with cTenn eone* ‘1m’ but She knew that perhaps, now some fellow who was Vt-U P°b t0 br'nS over that terribly hand­ some fellow who was v,siting him during his spring vacation. With Glenn �DELPHIC 45 out of the way, he might, to use a slang expression, “fall for her,” and there would follow naturally, several engagements, lunch at Wisteria Villa, the theatre, little tete a tete dinners, or, too wonderful to be true, a dance, perhaps even two. It happened. Terry was in the seventh heaven of rapture. His name was Hugh, he was tall with wavy, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a very dark complexion, athletic, a perfect dancer and all-round sportsman. Terry could hardly believe that he had noticed her, had taken her to the theatre, had danced, played tennis, and golfed with her. Tomorrow morning they were going riding, tomorrow evening they were having dinner together. Terry thought of nothing else, even dreamed of him. At last someone was “rushing her.” Sometimes she would say to herself, “Am I dreaming? Can this really be I?” And again, “I’m awfully foolish to adore Hugh so much -after all. he’s only a man.” A trifle egotistic, but only for a minute, and her lack of self-confidence would return: “It won’t last. It’s too good to be true. He probably won’t even write when he goes back to college.” But Hugh did write. Long enthusiastic letters, that told her of college, what he was doing, of what he intended to do. Glenn noticed these letters and teased her about them. “Well, Terry, so you’ve succumbed at last! When did it happen? Will he be up next summer, and if so, may I meet him?” Sometimes Terry’s high spirits fell. “When he meets Glenn,” she would think soberly, “it’ll be all off with me. Not that I’ll blame her any, it’ll be just my luck.” And so on, until the next letter arrived, when her spirits would soar again, and she would say, “He does like me or he wouldn’t write. I shouldn’t feel that way about Glenn, He won’t, he shan’t fall for her. I won’t let him.” But Terry was very much afraid of Glenn, in spite of her resolution, and she did not look forward to their meeting with any enthusiasm. In July, Hugh came up to visit Bob again, and Terry decided to meet the issue at stake immediately. So she invited Hugh to dinner, to meet Glenn. She had a new dress which she donned for the first time that evening, and she tried her very best to look as lovely as possible, but when she saw Glenn in the hall her heart almost stopped beating. Glenn was glorious. The two sisters went into the library together. Hugh was standing with his back to them, looking out of the window. As they came in he turned quickly, and Terry saw his eyes fall upon her first, and then turn to Glenn. She introduced the two, and although she watched him carefully during the evening, she found that his eyes and his manner were inscrutable. He left rather early, having said nothing to Terry about a date for the next day, and she went to bed panic-stricken. She wandered about the house distractedly all the next day, and when she swe^' *e^eP^one rInS sharply early in the evening, she ran to an- �1 46 DELPHIC “Hello. Hugh’s voice. A second’s silence. Then: “May I please “Hello. speak to Glenn? The blood rushed pounding to her temples. Some­ thing within her almost cried out: “Not Glenn, Hugh,—not Glenn.” She made a terrific effort to regain her composure. Her voice shook a little as she said, “.Just a moment, please.” She put the receiver down, heavily. Couldn’t she do—anything? Was she so utterly powerless? Hadn't it seemed inevitable from the first? Had it meant so much to her? All these questions went pounding through her head. Then some­ thing she had once said came back to her suddenly: “After all—he’s only a man.” She turned away from the telephone and went to Glenn’s door. Opened it. In a voice, not quite steady, and strangling a sob, she said, “Glenn dear, there’s somebody wants you on the telephone.” Then she stumbled blindlv to her room. Shut the door and locked it. M. A. P., ’25. Isola Bella Mystery and romance walk hand in hand over this beautiful island. One has the sensation of intruding when you step out of a modern boat onto the step of stone where paths have been worn from perpetual treading. Even my breath behaved in a curious way as I dreamily strolled about this beautiful place. My poor description would seem as nothing, for words do not exist that would portray to you my im­ pressions. A mass of stone walls, terraces, and palaces seem to take uniform shape on this tiny island, where not a square foot of land has not had the skilful touch of a genius of architecture, landscaping, or gardening. The palace I cannot endeavor to describe. I see in my mind vague recollections of tapestried divans, chairs and beds with glittering crystal chandeliers hanging from gold tinted ceilings. A rose tinted casement was opened and there before me lay the most gorgeous, superb panorama that mortals or immortals could desire to gaze upon. Winding paths of agate form a maze of autumn color bordered with stones of pure white pumice. Terrace upon terrace enrolled itself revealing orange and citrus trees. Graceful bamboos swayed in the gentle breeze and cast rippling shadows over the entire garden. I shall see to the end of my life those magnificent white peacocks proudly standing on the terraces, while the emerald green of Lake Majiore formed a background not to be compared. The fragrance of white gardenias floated among the trees and flowers as I strolled enchanted across the velvet carpet of grass. It seems that beauty will ever attract us in whatever form she may take and to me that goddess will ever be pictured lying leisurely on the steps of Isola Bella. Mayanna Sargent, ’25. �DELPHIC M cA Restful Summer June was coming into its full glory, and thoughts of vacation were foremost in my mind. 1 felt like taking the whole summer off, and did not see any reason why 1 should not do so, since it was my duty to take a look at my ranch at Lone Pine to see how my nephew was getting on as manager, So, having wired him to meet me, I took the train and arrived the next day at Lone Pine which I beheld in all the dusty, sunny splendor of high noon. 1 cast a hasty, expectant look about in search of my nephew. He was not there. 1 surveyed the expanse of sun burnt grass from the rail­ road track to where the horizon line faded out in the dim purple of the distance. Here and there a cow dozed in the midday heat. Here and there sprawled a few wind-bent bushes; but nowhere, in that vast space, was there one object which I might have mistaken for the ap­ proaching figure of that most desired nephew. 1 decided that the wisest thing to do was to wait; and forthwith I sat down on my suit case, with the baked mud under me and the blazing sun aoove. As I was idly gazing at nothing in particular, two horses crossed the horizon and came galloping across the plain. As they neared me l saw that one of them had a rider. On, on they came till, when they were within a short distance of me, the rider drew rein and 1 recognized my nephew, David. “I’m sorry I’m late. The train must have come in early, he said as he greeted me. “It was on time according to schedule,’’ I retorted irritably. He said no more about the train and went on to explain that he would have brought the buggy, but had the misfortune to break one of the wheels on a trip the previous summer and had not had time to fix it. "Just hand me your suit-case, uncle,’’ he said patronizingly. Prince there,” he indicated the scrawny sorrel that he held by the lead, is squeamish about what goes onto his back, but Minnie, she 11 stand for anything.” Minnie turned her head and gave her master a look of singular con­ tradiction. David continued his drawl all the way home, often telling me that a restful summer was just what I needed. However, when I went to my room that night, I went with the staunch opinion that what my ranch and its finances needed, more than a restful summer, was an earthquake or something of a similar nature. Yet I had learned very little of how things were from the business standpoint, for David had just installed a water . piping system, connected with an artesian well, and could talk of nothing �48 DELPHIC but this accomplishment. Having listened to the method, particulars, and details over and over, I finally bade him good-night and went to bed. About two o’clock I was awakened by a frantic pounding at the door and Mrs. Allard, the housekeeper, crying out, “Come quick, come quick. “What’s the matter?” I asked. Oh, matter enough. Ride as fast as you can to the Smith place, and tell him to come at once.” I groped my way to the coral, where 1 found the horses dozing at the far end of the fence. I made a dive at one of them, caught him by mane and threw the saddle across his back. A moment later 1 was riding furiously along the road to Dr. Smith’s, and wondering if my nephew was dead or only mortally wounded. 1 roused the worthy doctor with resounding knocks on his door; and ere another minute passed we were thundering down the road together like Icabod Crane and the headless horseman, In breathless anxiety I dashed into the house, where I encountered Mrs. Allard transfixed in her astonishment. “Is everything all right?” 1 asked. “The house is almost flooded,” she answered, “but what is Dr. Smith doing here?" “Why,” I said, “you sent me for him.” “Land sakes,” she exclaimed, “I sent you for John Smith, the plumber. The pipes from David’s well have burst and water is over everything.” “Then why didn’t you tell me or call David?” “Well, I thought you knew I meant the plumber. I never dreamed you’d go for the doctor, and I did not want to bother you about fixing the pipes yourself, since you are our guest; and, well, I never wake David, dear lad that he is. It will break his heart when he hears this. He did love those pipes.” “That being the case his heart will break now,” I said, “for I intend to inform him presently.” I did not go for the right Smith. I was in no mood for another ride, and besides I had ridden the horse into a lather as it was. So I and the doctor and David (I had no scruples about waking David), worked the rest of the night repairing the damage. I railed at my fate that night, and I truly believe what happened the next day was my just punishment. The dam above the ranch broke its walls and the water came pouring down on us. The house was swept away. David and I spent the rest of that restful summer rebuilding itDavid’s work, of course, consisted, for the most part, in giving advice. Cecilie Applegath, ’25. �DELPHIC 49 ‘‘Nature” Slowly behind the western hills the and lints of gold flooded the sky and reflmeT inciteThe'mS°n o‘El,p£"„',rred “b1 °r aart sage »« -i.t m. i i nphhi d f Th ’ °]0StT h!dden by a llttle cresL could be seen a tiny lake of blue. The early Indians called it “Lake of Death ” due to the fact that few people ever crossed it safely. Large springs served as an inlet and promoted its historical name. P g as mfnGnaHUiillyK.and alm0sto unnoticeably the brilliant colors faded away into a dull blue mist. Stealthily elk and doe crept from the distant woods to the lake for a sip of water. Then after cooling their tired feet they started again into the forest. ’ The sky slowly darkened. Every color seemed to vanish—as if bv andSr„tAt ^ SOlfmn m00n sh°wed its s,eePy face above the horizon less as 7 it IV Uhp0n Jhe lake' Everything was still and motion unmarred L by the Spe" °f death' Suddenl>' breaking the seemed m “ “y°te weanly caIIed 10 his restless mate, This seemed to awaken other sleepy animals and the wise old owl hooted in the tree tops. the world the nighttslowl>' ended- The moon lowered and sank behind d greyneSS of the hllls- Daylight once more lightened the drowsy rnlllL6 aun.showed its smiling face most of the day, then faded. Dark HS!“a,)r '”a “ '°"owed 6y was the preceding night 'r°m this gloomy, tense atmosphere. Still, beauty could be found in the western scene as the sand heaped, and the lake rippled laughingly. had outlasted^)! th£ m0°" was seen riding high in the sky. Proudly it the lazy animaL m1' Pe3Ce W3S restored among the f°ur winds, and tazy animals continued to sleep. Beatrice Foster, ’27. Thoughts Why was I not an Indian maid To roam the forest wide? Or princess of the Island Shaad To dance before the tide? My heart craves things—unthought of things That are not mine to grasp; Take me where the palm trees swing And lazy camels bask. —Beatrice Foster, ’27. �50 DELPHIC Selected Spasms Genius Cries for Help Subjects are worn to a frazzle. There is nothing to write about which has not grown stale long ere this. It is expedient that I compose an essay—that form of prose which relates to the simple reflections that come to one’s mind. But if my mind assininely refuses to reflect, what can 1 do? A rather well known personage of the past once said: “Do or die. Since 1 cannot do, I suppose I must die. “Oh! Death! Come. Hark. No answer! Not even an echo! In louder tones I call: “Oh! Death! Come. Still no response; evidently death has lost its hearing. What will be­ come of me? I cannot “do,” I cannot “die.” There is no alternativetherefore—in that direction. Another famous man once said: “To be, or not to be. He did not finish the sentence, so I shall take it upon myself to complete it for him. “Am I to be an essayist, or am I not to be one?’ I ask you this how can I be an essayist, if I am unable to devise a means of securing sufficient data to write an essay? Don't you agree with me, regarding the utter impossibility of the thing? And yet, since I must write an essay, how can I save myself from the awful fate? I am suspended between two eventual decisions. Which I shall choose concerns not the present, but the time that will soon be present— namely—the future. If I write an essay, I cannot be original this has been proven by Aristotle’s theory. Wherefore, if I do not write an essay —according to the proof which Francis Bacon’s system of philosophy has furnished, I shall be forced to directly oppose the law which de­ mands that I make some attempt at that form of prose composition which is now in discussion. It is indeed a terrible world, for I cannot “do, I cannot “die,” I cannot “be,” neither can I “not be.” There must be something wrong somewhere. Surely it cannot be a superfluity, for the symptons do not tend in that direction. Therefore, I conclude that it must be a deficiency. But what is lacking? Let me think! I have it! Inspiration! That’s the thing! But whence comes inspiration? Must one dive into the depths of the sea for it, or fly up into the clouds in its wake? I’ll call it Per‘ chance it will hear me and respond. “Inspiration! Come! Hast thou, like death, become deaf? Or art thou merely elusive? Ah! Methinks I see a light! It flickers, then goes out. But no! it has deviated fro111 its course, and flares again before my vision, as a stroke of lightning- �i DELPHIC 51 How to kindle that flame—how to transform it into a glowing fire? My brain will not function, and inspiration flies away, intact. No! There it is again! But only for a moment—then it vanishes like some phantasy. Inspiration—thou art too evasive for mortals such as I. Inspiration, I crave thee—yet I cannot have thee. All right, I’ll display a little inde­ pendence—! don’t want you. Return whence you came! Never let me see your countenance again! Ah! I thought that would bring results. Just a little obstinacy—was that it? Now, you’ve come to me to stay— yes? Well, imp of Satan, I’ll have my revenge. I see that you have the neck, as well as the heart, of a chicken. Revenge is sweet, but sweeter still are the vibrations which your moans cause upon my organs of hearing, as slowly I wring your neck. Inspiration, thou art no more. Now, I can write without the continuous irritation of your presence. Farewell! Now, to work!” Analene Cohen, ’25. Bridge A standard dictionary thus defines the word bridge for us: a structure erected to afford passage across a waterway; also, a frame for holding false teeth, which is clamped to adjoining teeth on each side. But however edifying each of these definitions may be, neither meaning will be of use on the subject about which I will presently try to discourse. My bridge is a game of self-control, played with a deck of fifty-two cards—an equal number each of clubs, hearts, spades, and diamonds. 1 will not go into detail, for I am not myself, as yet—-beyond the trumpingmy-partner’s-trick stage. Perhaps I am not qualified to do that w ic I am attempting, but I can speak of my own impressions. They speak of beginner’s luck—a pianola hand self-playing, you ' king, queen, jack, ten, and three others of the know, consisting of ace, same suit. I had one once. They didn’t even worry about me then. By the time the hand was half over my partner was allowe to rus to the rescue. I barely made my bid of two. Very few peop e cou have done it—come so near to losing the bid, I mean. Did you ever hear of that flighty young individual, laboring un the frightful delusion, who said: “Oh yes, I learned to p ay n ge other night. I don’t think I like it very well”? Don’t despair. All players are not like this. There is t e n g Piayer with the poker face, both concerning the game !tself> He and disgust at having me sit opposite him. He suffers in „ ,s l0"g suffering and of great patience. One of tthe ambit,,ony>f ^ life- is to show him! But the sun will grow cold, an 0ld before I do it uu ll* - orothy Mautz, 26. D �52 DELPHIC Do Students Study? At last after many years of research—both historical and scientific, a question has been found, worthy of puzzling that great unknown quantity—the sphinx, itself. To solve this question the wide gulf must be bridged between our present erudition and the evasive fourth dimen­ sion. The subject of this anomalous discussion is composed of three words, very commonly employed in the language of the day, but seldom used in the connection which I am about to lay before you. Now, in order that you may comprehend this subject more clearly, I shall disclose the greatest question ever propounded to the superior intellect of the genus homo. Behold it- writtten in is simplest yet its most complex form; one moment is granted in which you may brace yourselves for the shock. And now I ask—nay—1 even implore you to enlighten me if you are able so to do, in my ignorance concerning the answer to this: "DO STUDENTS STUDY?” i reiterate the words in their unadorned simplicity—"DO STUDENTS STUDY?” as Hamlet was once overheard to remark: "Ay—there’s the rub.” There indeed is the rub. I am a student myself—at least that is what I believe I ought to be termed for I have attended kindergarten, grammar school, high school, etc., and I intend to continue the struggle at some university, And among the surprisingly few facts which have managed to find a per­ manent place of repose in my cerebrum, the definition of the word "SCHOLAR" shines forth like a bright illumination—as one who is engaged in study or devoted to books or learning. (Of course lexico­ graphers judge only from appearances—they cannot know the inner life of the average scholar of this era.) "STUDENT” so it seems, is synonymous with "SCHOLAR.” Likewise, a scholar has been admitted by the best authorities to be a student. However, as this is not a treatise on the "why and wherefore” of a student but merely the discussion of a question whose significance is above doubt, let us desist from dealing with useless data and allow our minds to become engulfed in the labyrinth of unadulterated debate. If I were Patrick Henry, I should ask for a "studious student or an untimely end. If my name were Edmund Burke, I would discourse brilliantly on the "awfulness of the student.” If Abraham Lincoln were my appellation, I would declare “study of the student, by the student, for the student. student.” But since I am only the trivial and insignificant author of this attempt at the impossible, I shall leave to your imagination the aforementioned verbal controversy. In conclusion, let me express my utmost desire that your mind’s eyes and ears derive the most beneficient pleasure from the battle of words over this great problem. When the debate has come to an end, you will ask yourself: "DO STUDENTS STUDY?” and your inner self win respond, without the least particle of ignominy, just as a student would in a like case: "I DON’T KNOW.” Analene Cohen, ’25. * �DELPHIC Class Basketball The interest shown for class games this season was at a high point throughout the school. The games were played as follows: Freshmen vs. Sophomores, first. Both classes had good material and the score was a tie, 16-16. Sophomore vs. Junior also was a tie, the score being 8-8. Freshmen vs. Senior game ended with a score of 12-38 in favor of the older team, although our babies put up a good fight, holding the Seniors one quarter, to tie shots. Freshmen vs. Junior game gave the Juniors a lead of 16-4 in score. Sophomore vs. Senior game put the Seniors in for a game with the Juniors as they won 7-12. Junior vs. Senior game turned the Seniors chances for class honors in this sport, as the Juniors won, 26-18. Another Sophomore vs. Junior game was necessary, as the previous game between the two had been a tie, and the Seniors had beaten the under-classmen. This game was snappy and exciting, ending in favor °f the Juniors by one point, 18-17. The Juniors therefore won the cup for 1925. Then came the annual fray between “Days” and “Boarders. Practice for both teams was to be seen often, and decisive steps were taken for improvement. Although a good number of “Day girls stayed, and the encouragement from mothers for the daughters playing kept spirits high on that side, the “Boarders” thought of those at home and the loyal little band that backed them so faithfully, and won 10-18. Muriel Barde, Captain of the winners, backed the girls throughout the game, and made team-work count every minute. Katie Martin, Captain of the Days, played her usual fine steady game, and had her team on the S° until the last second. �DELPHIC 54 Following are the class line-ups: Freshmen: Centers—Mary Aileen Martin, Mary Helen Carr. Guards—Louise Holford, Kathleen Jayne, Mary Elizabeth Wheeler. Forwards—Frances Loomis, Marjorie Holman, Maxine Bennet. Sophomores: Centers—Mary Malarkey, Ardella Sweek, Anne Stange. Guards—Helen Loomis, Geraldine Kirby, Marie Mecklem. Forwards—Jane Cullers, Mary Alice Meyer, Deborah Ball, Rhoda Gantenbein. Juniors: Centers—Muriel Barde, Helen Peters, Roberta Pittock. Guards—Betty Allyn, Helen Dunn, Margaret Brandes. Forwards—Nancy Chipman, Elizabeth Martin. Seniors: Centers—Katie Martin, Evelyn Meyer. Guards—Edythe Hartley, Velma Payne. Forwards—Marjorie Pittock, Marjorie Mariner. Day Pupils’ Team: Centers—Katie Martin, Helen Peters, Roberta Pittock. Guards—Betty Allyn, Helen Loomis, Mayanna Sargent. Forwards—Nancy Chipman, Elizabeth Martin, Marjorie Pittock. Boarders’ Team: Centers—Muriel Barde, Anne Stange. Guards—Edythe Hartley, Velma Payne. Forwards—Frances Loomis, Zelah Bartholomew, Marjorie Mariner. Baseball Juniors vs. Freshmen. The first game of the season, played on May 1, was between the Freshmen and Juniors. The little greenhorns put up a gallant battle, but were finally beaten by their elders. The score was 21-11. The line-ups were as follows: Catcher .... Pitcher .... Short Stop . First Base . Second Base Third Base Right Field Left Field .. Center Field Juniors Julia Smith. . Helen Peters Freshmen Mary Aileen Martin Frances Loomis Muriel Barde.... Helen Adelsperger Elizabeth Martin Louise Holford Zelah Bartholomew.... Kathleen layne Roberta Pittock. Gladys Elliot Grace McKeown, Gladys Goodman Margaret McCall Mary Helen Carr Juniors vs. Seniors. The Juniors beat the Seniors in basketball, but hings are evened up now, for the Seniors beat the Juniors in baseball. It was a close game from beginning to end, and most exciting to all ITwTtJS/S'r,p'Sf ”n "•»5-"y <•« score was 28-35. ! . ; ! �DELPHIC 55 The line-up: Catcher Pitcher Short Stop . First Base . Second Base Third Base Right Field . Left Field . . Center Field Seniors Juniors Mayanna Sargent.. ...Julia Smith Katie Martin,.............Helen Peters Betty Sewall.... Marjorie Pittock Muriel Barde Edythe Hartley. Elizabeth Martin Evelyn Meyer. . . Zelah Bartholomew Gwendolyn Hall. Roberta Pittock Marjorie Mariner Grace McKeown Analene Cohen. . Margaret McCall Juniors vs. Sophomores. This game was played on May 7. The Sophomores won, and the score was 34-29. But the history of the game is accurately described in the following poem by a prominent member of the losing side. ! “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,” “Yoh Ho, and a bottle of rum.” The Juniors all forgot to come— We played with eight Quite resigned to our fate, And now it’s all over and done. A few struck out, and a few they walked: But the sturdy “sophs” they never balked— When we’d hit a run, they’d home it quick, Ah, those little “sophs,” they made us sick. Oh youngsters you got us, our poor measly eight— So laugh--right now! Quick! before it’s too late— For the Seniors will lick you for taking our score. And then your laugh’s over forever more. The final game which decides the championship will be played be­ tween the Sophomores and Juniors, but at a date when it will be too late to write up the outcome in our paper. At any rate we know it wi be a dandy game. A cup has been put up by a Senior and therefore the Seniors feel morally obliged to win. Last returns from the baseball game—the Sophomores won t e cup, with a score of 16 to 12. Tennis and the weather has Tennis has proved as popular as ever this year been most favorable for tournaments. A number of matches h ^ played off already, but the finals will come off at a a be entered in the paper. We are very sorry for this, but it « avoidable. . . Thi<; has Next year we are going to have a cement te^ms ' and also been made possible by the money raised by the graduating class by the money raised at the school bazaar. �DELPHIC 56 7 OloGtfujmes MARRIAGES: Faith Newton, ’19, to Lieutenant Harold Roberts, U. S. Marine Corp. Elizabeth Swank to Harold Ransome. Thyra St. Clair, ’21, to Alfred Newman. Phelina Bartlett to Frank Tedford. Margaret Cook to J. L. Wilcox. BIRTHS: To Mr. and Mrs. Walter McMonies (Willetha Ritter, ’23) a son, Warren Anthony, March 10, 1925. ENGAGEMENTS: Mary Helen Spaulding, T9, to Harry Clair. Margaret Johnson to Augustine Frances. MISCELLANEOUS: Idelle Egbert, attending the University of Oregon, is now a Pi Beta Phi. Mrs. Harold Ransome ( Elizabeth Swank) visited the boarding depart­ ment Sunday afternoon, January 11, 1925. Hylah Fraley, 20, is doing Social Service work in Portland in con­ nection with the Child Welfare Bureau. Mrs. Harold Roberts (Faith Newton, T9) visited the school on her way to Wallace, Idaho. Mrs. George Weldin (Helen Ballard, T8) visited the school with her baby boy, in April. The two children of Mrs. Wade (Lucile Brown, T7) were baptized in the school chapel. The school wishes to Pay tribute to the memory of Mrs. Slattery (rlorence Pangle), who attended school as a little girl in the primary department, and later in the academic department. She was obliged to leave before graduation because of delicate health. She was greatly loved by the girls at school, and was baptized and confirmed in the school chapel. She died at the Wilcox Memorial Hospital a few hours after the death of her baby son. The friends of Phihppa Sherman, '22, were interested in seeing her AnP°ei?e °W‘,' P"nted in the Oregon Alumnae Paper. Anne Wentworth 23 Hazelmary Price, '23, Hylah Fraley, ’20, Vir­ ginia Pittock, 22, Idelle Egbert, and Dorothy Mielke,. ’24, were recent visitors at the Hall. ^QueeTof iSr" (SuZanne Caswe11’ ’20) has just been chosen �DELPHIC 57 January 6—Found us all back, ready to take up our lessons where we left them before vacation (December 19-January 6). And each girl with the idea of upholding the standard of the school in doing as splendidly in her work for the remainder of the year as she did the first of the year. January 15-24—During this space of time, wonderful class spirit was shown in our athletics, for the class games in basketball were being played off. The final game was won by our noble successors, the Juniors. January 16—The Seniors held a candy sale, and as the “Hall Girls” have a tooth for sweets, the sale was a success. January 21—The Glee Club held its annual concert, which was a great success: the only “flat" not appreciated by all the audience was an accident, which happened in the back of the room. January 26-30—Exams! Oh, how we worried! Aren’t teachers just too unmerciful for words? February 26-30—Exams safely past, what next? More study of course, but the most talked of subject was our next event. February 7—Oh! the event looked forward to by those girls sixteen years of age or over, the Junior Prom. February 12—The Lincoln Medal was won by Edythe Hartley, and honorable mentions by Matilda Bowman and Betty Sewall. February 23—The brave patriots earned a holiday in which to celebrate Washington’s birthday. March 3—Much to the amazement of the day girls, the boarders carried the final honors of the season with a score of 18-10. Rah! Rah! Rah! Boarders! And their basketball team. �58 DELPHIC March 17—Doctor Clark gave a very interesting address in chapel. March 18_The Glee Club gave a short concert over the radio. March 27__The last day of the quarter, and again the banner was won by the Senior Class. Dean Bolton of Washington University visited the school. April 15—Senior Class Play. April 16—Sister Superior invited all the Seniors to dinner. April 17—The girls were given a long Easter vacation to recuperate and get their hearts back to normal after the strain the love scene in the play put upon them. May 1—The Seniors held a lunch sale at recess, which increased the sum in the strong box, by some twenty-six or twenty-seven dollars. The Delphic must go to press! What will the Kalendar do? It can only put down the dates that have been set ahead of time, for the remainder of the year. May 8—The Senior class is invited to Reed College for “Reed Day.” May 14—Junior-Senior luncheon at the Waverley Country Club. May 16—The Senior class is invited to a tea given by the Alumnae Association. May 19—Tennis Tournament. As far as we can tell now the finals will be between Helen Aldesperger and Zelah Bartholomew for beginners, Edythe Hartley and Mary Alice Meyer for Juniors, and Catherine Martin and Peggy Cannon for Seniors. The tournament is to be followed by a picnic super-dance given by the “New Girls” for the “Old Girls.” May 23—Matilda Bowman has asked her classmates to spend the after­ noon of this date at her home. May 25-29—Exams. May 30 Oh! What a date! On this day the school honors are to be given out. First and second testimonials, school letters, and medals, and prizes won by the girls who were competitors in out-side com­ petitions. This is to be followed by the Senior tea. May 31—Baccalaureate Sermon and Luncheon. June 1—Senior Prom. June 2 Senior breakfast and final rehearsal. Then comes commence­ ment, and, after we are graduates, we are to spend the remainder of the evening at Mayanna Sargent’s before taking our last farewalls. �DELPHIC Junior Prom—The Junior Prom was given at the Portland Heights Club on the evening of February the seventh. The rooms were artisti­ cally decorated hy the seniors, in pastel shades of crepe paper, and pussy willows. Punch was served and later in the evening refreshments. We are all hoping that our other Proms in the future will be as successful. Singing Over the Radio—“Station K. G. W., Portland, Oregon. Good evening, Radio friends. I have the pleasure of introducing the St. Helen’s Hall Glee Club in a short concert this evening. The club is under the direction of Mrs. Mabel Hall Smith. The first selection wi be the Alma Mater.” ,, That was over. Mr. Haller had said the fatal words: the cruel world was waiting. Not to dispute grammar, but to us there in that small room the world was an abstract noun. In fact too abstract for comfort. There we stood in that small, mysterious and deathly quiet room, thirty-seven of us, with thirty-seven pairs of weakened knees to hold us UP- That was when the micraphone must have broadcasted heart ea s as well as words. Ah, the song had started! We knew that because we saw each other’s mouths moving, and heard suppressed and flat tones floating forth �60 DELPHIC to the world. Louder and louder we sang. Flatter and flatter the sounds were. The first song was over. No applause—no encouraging glances from friends in the audience--nothing—merely determination. But everything went off well after the first ordeal. The last song—then again the announcing, “this concludes the pro­ gram of the St. Helen’s Hall Glee Club.” Thus finished our first radio program. The Senior Play" On Wednesday, April fifteenth, at the Women’s Clubhouse, the Seniors presented an original dramatization of “Silas Marner.” Promptly at eight-fifteen, the curtain rose before a most enthusiastic audience; and “the play was on”—on to the end without a break. This is the first time a class has presented a play written by itself. The play was coached by Miss Greathouse, who was assisted by Miss Wilson. All the members of the cast deserve great credit, for each and every one portrayed her part well. The play was preceded by a sale of flowers, candy and needlework of various kinds. This was presided over by members of the other classes. A musical program between the acts was furnished by Bernice Congleton, Beverly Roberts and Matilda Bowman. For this, which was in keeping with the atmosphere of the play; and for the music off stage during the New Year’s Ball, thanks are due to Miss Harding. Our thanks are due, also, to others for our success: first and chiefly to Olds, Wortman and King, whose generosity made possible the splendid settings; and to the chairman of various committees, who are as follows: Stage Manager—Evelyn Meyer. Scenery—Marjorie Pittock. Costumes—Celeste Proctor. Tickets—Lillian Bennett. Programs—Donna Magnuson. Usher—Darrel Torrey. The cast (in order of appearance) : Godfrey Cass ...................... Dunstan Cass ...................... * Silas Marner .............................. Eppie ................................" Priscilla Lammeter ................... ’ Mrs. Osgood ............................ ’ Nancy Lammeter........................ Dr. Kimble ............................... Squire Cass ...................... . Mrs. Kimble .............................."' ’ Mr. Lammeter ...........................’ Jane ................................... . . . Aaron ......................................... Mrs. Winthrop ............................ ’ ’* Catherine Martin Cecilie Applegath Gwendolyn Hall Velma Payne Irene Mackay Katharine Mayhew Betty Sewall Edythe Hartley Mayanna Sargent Lilias Peltier Analene Cohen Dorothy Mautz Edythe Hartley Elbertine Adams �DELPHIC 61 On the sixteenth of April, Sister Superior invited the Senior Class to dinner, There was a huge table in the dining room, that stretched practically from one end of the room to the other. We were told that it was just like that for the Senior breakfast; and we were surprised, having never attended a senior breakfast before. At any rate we all enjoyed the dinner immensly and felt very important because the boarders of other classes had to sit at small tables. During courses we sang school songs, among them the one beginning “A Bishop came to the Beaver state,” which we decided we liked the best. After dinner we had a glorious time dancing, and the boarders’ orchestra played a few selections for us—not as many as we would have liked (they seemed a trifle exclusive). When the bell rang for study hour for the boarders we had one last dance and then departed, having had an altogether enjoyable evening. Several of the most momentous occasions have as not as yet hap­ pened, so we cannot describe them thoroughly before the Delphic goes to press. . , First there is the Junior Senior luncheon which will be given on Thursday, May 14th at the Waverly Country Club. We all know that we are going to have a wonderful time and are looking forward to it expectantly. . , . . Then the new girls have invited all the old girls to attend a picnic supper and dance on May 19th. This will take place after t e ina s o the tennis tournament have been played. . . • ■t, Of course everyone is looking forward to the emor rom a From the plans we hear going on the Juniors will act as hostesses. about it now it is bound to be a success. _ nf ComAnd finally there is the Senior breakfast on the morn mg of C°m Our President is even now searching frantically tor mencement Day. frame her speech for the occasion. words of wisdom with which to Calendar, 1924-1925 First quarter ends November 7th (9 weeks less one day). Thanksgiving holidays, November 26th to 3Uth. Christmas vacation, December 19th to Ja^uaD^ ^ay\ Second quarter ends January 23rd (9 weeks less Y>Mid-year exams, January 26th to 30th. Second term begins February 2nd. Washington’s birthday, February 2 n , Third quarter ends March 27th ^(8 wee Easter vacation, April 17th to 2/th. Fourth quarter ends May 22nd (8 weeks). Final exams, May 25th to 29th. Commencement, June 2nd. �DELPHIC et<< iQw * V The Delphic is pleased to acknowledge the following exchanges: The Academia, St. Mary’s Academy, Portland, Oregon. Saint Katherine’s Wheel, Saint Katherine’s School, Davenport, Iowa. The Rosemary Question Mark, Rosemary Hall, Greenwich, Conn. The Blue Pencil, Walnut Hill School Natick, Mass. The Columbiad, Columbia University, Portland, Ore. The Olympus, Olympia High School, Olympia, Wash. The Blue Print, Katherine Branson School, Ross, Cal. Pen Points, St. Nicholas School, Seattle, Wash. The Academia—As usual, your literary department is very fine. We find “The Impossible Pudding’’ and “Magic Music” especially clever and original. Saint Katherine’s Wheel—Your magazine could be improved by the An addition of a few cuts; your literary department is excellent. Unselfish Gift” and “Ann Belmont” are particularly interesting stories. Rosemary Question Mark—The arrangement of your magazine is extremely good, but your literary department would be more interesting if it had a few more short stories. “An Imaginary Meeting of Dr. John­ son’s Club” is very well done. The Blue Pencil—We are always glad to receive your magazine. It has so much “pep,” that one feels the atmosphere of your school throughout it. The Blue Print—Your magazine is exceedingly well organized. A few more cuts would add to the interest, although those you have are very good. Your literary column is fine; your poetry is especially en­ joyable. Deserving mention are your poems, “Progress,” “Twilight, “Midnight” and “Morning.” Pen Points—We are glad to receive your paper. This is the first time we have had it in our column, and we are looking forward to your next issue. Your literary department is especially good and although your cuts are few in number, they are excellent. Your poetry also is commendable. Altogether we enjoyed the magazine immensely. �r The Curtain Store “Everything for Your Windows” TELEPHONE MAIN 4727 HENRY BERGER, Jr. Curtains and Draperies Makers of Portraits by Photography made to order and put up in your home complete ! Estimates Given Without Obligation on Your Part PARK AND YAMHILL STS. The IRWIN-HODSON COMPANY PRINTERS STATIONERS Girls love to buy things that are DISTINCTIVE UNUSAUAL ORIGINAL That’s the reason they do their Rubber Stamps Shopping ^ LipmanWoIf &Co. 387 WASHINGTON STREET Pittock Block patronize our advertisers �Please Patronize Our Advertisers Sole Agents for Meadowbrook Hats Irene Castle Frocks House of Youth Dresses Perrin’s Gloves Miss Manhattan Coats J. & T. Cousin’s Shoes Raydio Girdles Silk Maid Hosiery Slazenger Tennis Racquets Hike Rite Outing Togs ^ESTABLISHED E9 Hartmann Trunks 1857 The Quality Store '..ST S5"TL*ND- °regon SIXI-M MORBiSON. ALOE P STS PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS ■1 �Olds, Wortman & King Portland’s Popular Department Stoi e Occupying Entire Block Bounded by Morrison, Alder, Tenth, and West Park Streets PORTLAND, OREGON We Give S. & H. Green Trading Stamps patronize our advertisers �COFFMAN’S 152 BROADWAY TRY OUR FAMOUS F. C. Chocolates We Make All Our Own Candies Near Morrison Martin & Fowhes Company Florists Main 0269 354 Washington Street Portland, Oregon Compliments of a FRIEND PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS A �SIMONDS SAWS SIMONDS SAWS WflB9AHTIO BURG MASS CWlC AGO j77—\ HOOSES.^cf Simonds Saw and Steel Co. “The Saw Makers” I Simonds Saws Mean Satisfaction to the Customer : STEEL SAWS : KNIVES : FILES Coast Branches PORTLAND OREG. SAN FRANCISCO CALIF. SEATTLE WN. SIMONDS SAWS SIMONDS SAWS I i VANCOUVER B. C. patronize our ADVERTISERS �GILL’S Blue Ribbon BOND giiis $lue Ribbon A high gradewriting paperincluding 200 sheets of paper and 100 en­ velopes printed with yourname and address. An offer not duplicated in the Northwest. Prepaid any­ where in the Northwest. $1.25 The J . K. GILL CO. Booksellers The House of a Thousand Gifts Stationers Office Outfitters Fifth and Stark Streets The Footwear that New York \ , is wearing % ■fi ! is the Footwear that we are showing Compliments DAN E. BOWMAN’S Moyer Clothing Co. Third and Oak Streets STAIGERS 288 Morrison Street (Corbett Bldg.) PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS �COMPLIMENTS OF The JUNIOR GLASS “just the Things That Delight a Womans Heart!” Gloves, Hose, Silk Underwear, Sweaters, Umbrellas, Blouses, Skirts, Coats, Dresses wVvO'S ijOvlT Morrison St. I Op. Post Office Jocelyn Foulkes Official Designers and Makers of ST. HELEN’S HALL UNIFORMS Olds, Wortman C& King Portland's Long-Established JEWELRY store in New Location greatly INCREASED STOCK Settings Piano n«Snt FRANKA.HEITKEMPER,Inc. theory TECHNIQUE INTERPRETATION patronize our NeW ' S-e-edlngOJj-j-P- C°' advertisers �Compliments of a FRIEND PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS �GAMP ASOLEDO A SUMMER CAMP FOR GIRLS SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA For Booklet, Address P. O. Box 481, Santa Barbara, California PIANOS —PLAYER PIANOS RADIO PHONOGRAPHS AND RECORDS G. F. Johnson Piano Co. Between Alder and Morrison 149 SIXTH STREET SHOES FOR THE OCCASION Knight Shoes and Hosiery 342-344 MORRISON ST., Near Broadway COMPLIMENTS OF . . 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EARN ST Confectionery UOW016 Yamhill at Tenth Street Broadway at Washington GOOD The Bush Pharmacy TIMES are party times—when someone '.•1st* plans the party. Why not enjoy all your parties by letting HENRY plan them and see that they are prepared in his inimitable way. Dine with Henry at the Sovereign Enjoy your light lunches or after­ theater suppers at the Lunch Bullet AT 351 ALDER STREET Henry’s Box Lunches Are Unequaled in the City Cor. 11th and Montgomery Sts. Phone Main 3322 Try Our Chocolate Malted Milk Henry Thiele Catering Company Main 6883 Broadway at Madison Portland, Oregon Portland, Oregon The Flynn Gift Shop Seventh Floor Northwestern Bank Building Morrison Street — Opposite Portland Hotel . . . Gifts for All Occasions PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS �1 I COMPLIMENTS OF C. . APPLEGATH Established 1870 Exclusive Furrier PORTLAND, OREGON Portland’s Oldest Fur House 129 TENTH Telephone B-3548 patronize our advertisers < �The Girls Should Save, Too! C The girl who not only keeps within her allowance but manages to save a part of it, too, has a pleasure worth much more than that derived from spending all of her money. Let us loan you a Liberty Bell Bank which will help make your account grow here at the— UNITED STATES NATIONAL Jhe, United Slates National Bank, Sl^th and Starlo “One of the Northwest's Great Banks” PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS �—1 - . 1 - ■ < / ■ ; ■' P ■ . kI . M ■ ' ' P :: • ' ' S ; � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Oregon Episcopal School Yearbooks Description An account of the resource This is a collection of yearbooks from the Oregon Episcopal School (OES). The bulk of the yearbooks are from St. Helen's Hall, with yearbooks also from the Junior College as well as Bishop Dagwell Hall. The title for the OES yearbook evolved from The Delphic to The Legend-Delphic. The title for the Junior College Yearbook was The Scintilla. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Oregon Episcopal School Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Oregon Episcopal School Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1921-1923; 1931-1995 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource All rights are reserved by Oregon Episcopal School. Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource Yearbooks Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Describing Archives: A Content Standard (DACS) Extent The size or duration of the resource. 85 Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. bound volumes Subject The topic of the resource Students Junior colleges Junior college students High school student activities Student activities Student publications Teachers Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 1 Medium The material or physical carrier of the resource. bound volume Title A name given to the resource The Delphic 1925 Subject The topic of the resource School yearbooks Students Student activities Student publications Teachers Description An account of the resource This is an OES yearbook from 1925. The yearbooks were published annually after 1925. Yearbooks from 1921-1968 were known as The Delphic and were created by St. Helen's Hall students attending in their high school years. St. Helen's Hall was an all-girls school that pre-dated Oregon Episcopal School. In 1969, the yearbook evolved into The Legend-Delphic with the addition of Bishop Dagwell Hall and male student attendees. After 1986 the yearbook branding begins to singularly list "OES" with a few volumes referencing "The Delphic" or "The Legend Delphic". Yearbooks helped to chronicle the school year's events and activities, in addition to listing each student and staff member. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Oregon Episcopal School Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1925 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource All rights are reserved by Oregon Episcopal School. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context oes_delphic1925-compressed.pdf School yearbooks; Students; Student activities; Student publications; Teachers