In Cap and Gown student journal

[image - figure in pajamas holding a lit candle] An extract from a Freshman's first letter home after Oct. 1st

"They have the funniest sort of lights in the building. There are iron pipes, shaped like a T upside down, coming down from the ceiling. The hold a match - I think they light it first - up to the end of the pipe and a flame bursts out just like a stream of water. I don't know how they put it out. I know they don't blow it out because I tried the other night to see if I could and I couldn't so I just left it going. Anway they tell me its dangerous to blow it out. So if I never get to be much of a preacher, my going to college will do some good if I can only persuade you not to try ever to put

out the has by blowing it. Let it burn all night and it will go out some way"

Then he proceeds to thank his sister for that yellow silk tie with the purple flowers on it, and closes with these words:

"Don't worry about me. The trolley cars nearly always ring a bell when they get near me. Any way I never go out along. Tell Angelina I'lll be home at Christmas. I hope she misses me. Jabey

Someone proposed Miss McMechan for Editor but she said she had too much work to do. "I pray thee have me excused."

[Image - table with a tennis racquet, woman's hat and broken pens surrounding a pile of books. Bottom book labelled "German Dictionary" has two feet and a hand protruding from it, appearing like there is a person in the book. Books piled on top are labeled "MUSIC", "FRENCH", "SHAKESPEARE", "ETUDE" and an unlabelled book]

[Image - four addressed and stamped envelopes] TAUGHT BY MAIL

Would you rise on the world? !Accomplishments are necessary! We supply an unparalleled course with competent [underlined] instruction [underlined] on each branch.

Conversation [partly underlined], Mr. Hardy, Bachelor of Applied Tolkatactcs and author of the fascinating little booklet. "How it feels to be engaged."

Singing [underlined], Messrs. Washburn and Horton, star soloists of the Pittsburg Orchestra. Cooking [partly underlined], Miss Guest, there's nothing she can't make from a cake to a conquest.

Jollying [partly underlined], Rev. A Carlisle, chief assistant and heart breaker of Memorial Church. This emminent

young man is accused by some of his victims of having a stoney heart. An autopsy would doubtless reveal the fact that the bit of rock occuping his bosom was purloined from a certain castle in Ireland (Blarney.)

Skating [partly underlined], Signor Morrisso Thorianno, teaches grace in every movement particularly that of gently yielding to the force of gravity.

[Image - appears a card is pasted on to the page. On the card is a cartoon of a framer in the distance over a hill and a another farmer with his back to the viewer holding a knife and a basket beside him. Caption - "No sir! There ain't no rabbits here.]

Napoleon's dominant ego was encased in a diminutive form, the soul of a Socrates looked out from the face of a satyr, and even the beauty of a Byron was spoiled by that malicious afterthought in the shape of a clubfoot. But in these last days, the forces of Westing have united to compel her however unwillingly to one supreme effort, the Result of which is with us.

The beauty and grace of a Hebe, the power and dominance of a Caesar are met here in one forum. Enough of her outward perfections. It is rivalled, nay, surpassed by the profundity and brilliancy of her intellect. Euclid was a

child in mathematics, Newton a babe in physical science, Shakespeare an "amateur rhymester, and Macaulay and Carlyle public-school dobblers in the mysteries of prose composition when their achievements are compared with those of Miss Jessie Rowat.

From the examples cited you may catch some idea of the versatility and universality of her genius.

She can arrange an evening's refreshments, solve a mathematical impossibility, deliver and oration to put Demosthenes to the blush, wither the girls of No. 6 write an essay and control a magazines with equal felicity.

Her greatest virtue in the eyes

[bold] Field Day.[bold]

Gloomy and rainy was the morning of the eighteenth day of October, the day nominated as that on which our Annual Sports were to be held. After all their work at mowing noxious weeds and raking up the clammy leaves, Dr. James and his corps of willing workers, tired and dejected, stood in the corridors - listening intently to the rain pattering against the windows and trickling down the sash. Old Joe leaned disconsolately against the wall. He was but the shadow of his former self. The one massive jaw was pointed and lean. Where was the childish innocent pout and the winning

smile - gone - the rotundity of his form and features - shrunken away. His coat hung loose and wrinkled on his boney shoulders. His scrawny neck forbade one to believe that his usual size in collars is no. 19.

Cornish should have been practicing for the pole-vault but had cut a few weeds instead, and now stood fast asleep in the corner, pale and wan, sick and sore, with a piece of brown bread in one hand and a bottle of Peruna clutched tightly in the other. From this state of prophetic slumber he was awakened by Miller placing his old corn cob pipe in his mouth and blowing the contents down the sleepers throat. It was a dirty trick but they all laughed, even

[bold drawn letters made out of matches]A SPENT MATCH [bold]

On a poem intent on a match that is spent I twangle the chords of my lyre, It had lived, it had died, it had glowed in its price, Now it's thrown away into the fire. [drawn line] Alack and alack for the match head is black, Though brimstone and sulphur before It had heat, it had light, it had prospects in sight Now it's cast aside dead on the floor. [drawn line] It heated the trip, it lighted the pipe, The candle, the gas and cigar, In tray or on floor it's an awful eyesore Good-night matchless match, tra-la-la. [drawn line]

[image - stylized students LOOKING BACKWARD]

I seemed to hear a distant murmur of voices. Gradually they appeared nearer. "She will soon be wholly conscious now," I heard someone say. Slowly it dawned upon my awakening senses that I had taken a course of treatment with Dr. Hodge for insomnia. He had given me a new drug recently obtained from India. Apparently I had enjoyed a good long sleep at last.

Looking about I was surprised to find myself in what resembled a hospital ward. There were present a number of professional looking men and nurses gazing at me with a good deal of in-