8/6/2019 The Merciad, April 1931

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T H E M E R C I A D

Published at Mercyhurst College, Erie, Pa.vo L U M N E n A PR I L . 1 0 31 NUM B ER 4

MX I N F E R I O R I T Y C O M P L E XI've alwa ys been a timid soul. Iwas going to say it was from b ab y hood tha t I 've ha d this well,sor t of infer ior ity complex, but Ihave recently been informed by aloving parent that, as an infant, Iwasn 't too timid to cry lustily formy rattle or on accoun t of myco lic p a in s . Th e la t te r w as u su a l ly relieved by m y very sain tl yfather whose continuous n ightf loor-walking has become trad ition in our family.My timidness had not yet asser ted itself when, at the age offour , I absolutely refused to k issmy mate r n a l J g r an d mo th e r s imp lybecause she was the possessor of abrand new set of false teeth!A las ! as soon as I s tar t ed toschool I began to be sub dued al i t t l e . Th r o u g h g r am mar sch oo l ,high school, and finally, colleg e,my timidness increased. I alwayswas conscious of m y infer ior itycomplex. A t h igh school I wasafraid to recite because I b lushedso; I was always 4 afraid to walkdown the corr idors due to theev er las t in g co mmen ts an d u n d u erecognition of my f laming locks.Needless to s ay I ne ver evenglanced a t the boys not even thefoot-ball heroes unless it was outof the corner of m y eyes. Ofcourse there might have beenmore than my complex responsib le

for that! * %Inf. college one cer tain ly realizesh is n o n en t i ty . Wh at i s o n e li t t l e ,pudgy, red-head out of four scoretall , s lender , beautifu l g ir l s? Didmy t imid i ty in c r ease? Y o u o u g h tto observe the result! Am I af raidto recite in class ? Do I mindallusions to my h air ?But, regardless of all th is foolery, I am timid r ea l ly an d t r u lyso . No one believes me no oneever does. But haven 't you noticedhow I tak e refuge in sha rp retor ts , how I h ide behind an assumed indif ference, how I lurk inthe defensive shadows of impartiality , how I cover myself with amantle of unconcernedness ? A ndw h at i s my r ew ar d ? B ecau se Iam shor t, because I am stout, and,most of all , because I am bossy , Iam ca l led NA PO L EO N. Wh a t aname for the timid g ir l the g ir lwith the infer ior ity complex!

Mar y McC r ad y , ' 3 1 .o

" B A B Y " IA cur ly head of golden hair ,T wo smil in ' eyes, that seemTo gr ip the very hear t of meWith th e i r an g e l ic b eam.A chubby, sunny lit t le face,With cheeks of rosy hueAh, baby dear , an ar tis ts handHa s surely fashioned you.Two would-be s turdy lit t le legsTh a t f a l te r as th ey k eepA rolly-polly, t iny formFr o m tu mb l in ' in a h eap .A child ish lisp in halting tones,H e t r y s to s ay th e n ame,Of Mother , Dad; but never onceH as h e a t ta in ed h is a im.Wh en ce came th is h ear ty l i t t l elad ? | | So funny, yet so dea r?Ah, God has lent h im to th is worldTo f ill our hear ts with cheer .v Elizabe th Wilber t, '34 .

O B I T U A R YIn th is age of k itchenettes andcondensed milk the o ld-fashionedp ar lo r i s a mag n an imi ty . I th in ki t a lw ay s w as . 'Those who have seen several decades won 't have to be in troducedto it . Those who are the so-calledn ew l ig h ts w o n ' t k n o w w h at i t ' sall about, so we'll tell them we'rediscussing the in t er ior of am u s e u m .I t w as cu s to mar y , in o r d er toach iev e so c ia l s ta tu s so me * y ear sago, fto include in the general turmo i l ! o f th e g in g er b r ead p o r chmena ge, a f ront par lor . This wasused on special occasions. Funerals and weddings presupposedthe f ront par lor . I t was openedfor the an nual c leaning thenclosed until the next one, unlessdeath or cupid wrought havoc in

the household .Th e u p - to - d a te p ar lo r co n ta in ed ,besides many pieces of sh in-cracking furniture, everyth ing f rom thebaby 's f irs t tooth to the red sockuncle Jeremiah wore in the CivilWar . No p ar lo r w as co mp le te u n t i l th e h a i r w r ea th c r o w n ed a ten -to n mar b le - to p p ed tab le .My f irs t recollection of the anti-quity was d isastrous. I decided toin v ad e th e s an c t i ty o f th e mu s typlace. I laughed so hard when Isaw i t I h ad to lean ag a in s t th ewall. My bulk was too muc hthe hanging bookcase crashed onto th e w h at - n o t an d sev er a l r e l icsplunged to their death . Still holding my sides I closed the doors.The p lace wouldn 't be opened foran o th er e ig h t mo n th s an y w ay u n less uncle Azro 's lumbago w ent tohis hear t or that McGillicuddy fellow proposed to Maggie.

I could rave on for hours lis tin g w h at th a t r o o m co n ta in ed b u tI w o u ldn ' t w as te p ap er o n w h atshould have been relegated to thejunk heap when Lincoln was readin g " H o w to R a ise A r t ich o k es . "She's had her day just l ike smallpoxlet th e b r ic - a - b r ac g er m s taybur ied and no longer infest thes t r a t u m o f th e ea r th . We w il lb u r y h er w i th th i s inscript ion:She did her duty ,Sp r ead h er g er ms ,Leave her bootyTo th e w o r ms .

Jeanne Ellio tt , '31 . oCONDOLENCE

Th e Mer c iad ex ten d s d e e psy mp ath y to th e p ar en ts o f Jo sephine Scolio , whose recent deathhas lef t a void in the happy sociallife of Mercyhurst s tudents .Josephine was loved by all forher f r iendliness and good-fellowship her cheery word of greeting to all she met and her never-failing good humor. She was agood stude nt and an all-aroundathle te. Gloom and dull sp ir itsvanished when lit t le "Jo" entereda room.We, who knew her , will neverforget the influence of her cheerfulpersonality and sweet thoughtfu l-ness, and tho ' absent in presence,she will always be remembered inour thoughts and prayers . %f Helen Huether , '31 .oFran McCarthy was up ' t i l l allhours the o ther n ight p laying"The 'Ross ' le of Spr ing." She wasso absorbed that she d idn 't realizehow late the hour had grown.

INSPIRATIONAlthou gh I have be en tryingearne stly and assiduously for sometime, I have not yet been able to" mak e co n n ec t io n s" w i th th i speculiar g if t or quality known asinspiratio n . Maybe it really doesexist, but I doubt it . I t seems toenter very prominently in to all thebooks and movies you know thety p e th e s t r u g g l in g y o u n gsculptor , ar tis t , mu sician , writ ero r w h a t h av e fyou, starves noblyfor h is ar t t i l l at the last minuteinspiration comes to h im and hese izes h is in s t r u men t an d w r i tes ,pain t s or composes h is masterp iece an d g a in s r en o w n . No t th a tall cases are so extreme; I merelymention these to show the innerworkings of th is inspiration affair .I t seems to descendjupon one allat once, so to speak, and then con

tinues in the ma nner in which thewater came down at Lodore, "runn in g an d ju mp in g an d r u sh in gand leaping" and so on.\ *A t an y r a te , s ad as i t mayseem, I have never exper ienced it .May b e I should (p ick out a n icecheerfu l attic and settle down tos ta r v e w h i le aw ai t in g in sp i r a t io nfor the Great American Novel orthe theme of the week. I t wouldundoubtedly be an excellent idea,one quite conducive to the reduction of weight, s ti l l i t would taketime, and af ter all , one can 'ts tarve every week just before thet ime th emes a r e d u e . Th a t w o u ldb e to o u p se t t in g . No , th e s ta r v ation method is "out" . |

Perhaps, only geniuses experience th is delightfu l sensation , witho r w i th o u t a t t ic an d s ta r v a t io n .Wh atev er e l s e I may h av e b eencalled in my day, I have cer tain lynever been accused of being agenius. My themes surely showno reason for that, although theyare of ten the product of m uchth o u g h t an d h ar d men ta l lab o r o nmy p ar t . So me u n k in d sou lmak es th e cu t t in g r em ar k th a tshe would th ink such exer tion impossib le, but really , I assure youonce in a very-long t ime, in thedead of n ight, and the*privacy ofmy own room with the shadesdrawn, I do indulge in the ar t ofth inkin g. And th is unusua l occurence is general ly c aused by thenecessity of presenting a theme tothe English professor on the nextday. liHiL f j S jawAnd each time I have the samedifficulties, chief 3 amo n g th embeing a subject to attack withmy litt le pen. I ask every onein s ight, beg them in fact, to suggest a possib le subject, anythingat all . When f inally , someonetakes p ity on me or I obtain onethrough my own effor ts , I proceed to develop it , rambling allover the subject in my own sweetway and losing all semblance ofunity , but in the end producingsomething which I call a theme.

But alas , inspired I am not, inspite of my need of it. How andwhere to obtain th is inspirati on ,that is the question . Cannot someone help me out? I wonder howsuccessful an adver tisement wouldbe? Some thing like th is , for ins tan ce : A n y o n e k n o w in g th ewhereabouts of the missing quality called Inspiration , k indly commu n ica te w i th ,

Ruth A nne M artin , '34 .

NIGHTTh er e? i s so meth in g my s te r io u sab o u t th e n ig h t . Especially if oneis awakened f rom a sound sleepand enveloped by it . Then everyth ing takes on a thr ill ing , s ignif ican t a tmo sp h er e , as i f th i s w er ethe time for everyone, everyth ingto act and feel aloof, secr e t iv e .Night is so of ten spoken of ascalm, peaceful, with a a t r an q u i l i tyu n mar r ed ex cep t b y th e f q u ie tbreath ing of millions of s leepers ,or the gentle lap of the waves ona shore, or the mournful howl ofa dog, supposedly marking thepassin g of a soul in to a deepernight. But it is mere ly a b lackmantle for seeth ing activ ities , thetime "apropos" for the quickplunge of a knife; the long, tender k iss of a lover ; the oppor tunity for a baby to feel the toucho f i t ' s mo th er ' s h an d ; ?the t imefor death .Eve rythi ng is so in tensif ied a tn ight. A f lare of light, screamin g ac r o s s th e sk y , mig h t mer e lybe a beacon, or a falling s tar , yeti t s t r ik es te r r o r in to th e h ear t o fa conscious onlooker . The lowrumble of train wheels , heard fa roff in the d is tance, might easily bethe walls of the ear th , crumblingin about our ears;Iand th e h eav i lybeating hear t, the voice of Godw ar n in g u s th a t H e i s O mn ip o ten t .There is l i t t le music or laughter in n ight; everyth ing is delibera te , v ital. There is no pitter-patter of child ish feet; only the s low,muff led tread of a cr iminal. Thereis no Beethoven air f loating thruthe room; only the sof t, low sighing of the treetops . There is nol ig h t a t night; only t h e silver ,s teel- like ref lection of the moonon a su llen , b lack r iver .You are puls ating , f r ightenedw h en y o u aw ak e a t n ig h t . S t r an g ethings are happening near you, allaround you, th ings in which youare powerless to in tervene . Youshr ink down in your bed, and pullth e h eav y b lan k e ts ab o u t y o u rhead to shut out the sounds, themut ter ing s, but they seek youout where you lie, taunting , intr igu ing you, and you whispe r :" A h , b u t th e n ig h t i s my s te r io u s . "# I ml Nell Guilfoyle, '31 .WUB H | M ' W O R D SDon't J tr if le with words, my dar-

iD o n ' t tw is t th em an d tu r n th em a twill. Ml' tFor words, l ike the sword arem i g h t y ;Now stinging, now vib rant, nowstill. IUtte r ed in mo men t o f an g er ,R eg r e t ted in th e a f t e rma t h ;Spoken when one was liv ingI n a to r men t o f b i t te r w r a th .

No w th e tumults is over,Comes the loneliness , quiet, thec a l m ;And we loathe the sp ir it with in usThat made us deal out the wrong. Grace Kane, '31 .

NUTTYf N O T E SThe dance g iven by the Seniorsthe o ther n igh t was one of themost delightfu l af fairs of the season. The men were furnished bythe local "Gigolo Agency" underthe supervision of one of our oldfr iends."Sally Ann"this y ear ' s mu s i cal comedy is fgoing to be b iggeran d b e t te r th an ev er . Th e lovelysoprano voice of the leading lady,Nell Guilfoyle, can be heard in theth ird f loor corr idor as ear ly as 5A . M | I Su ch en th u s iasm! fAndH elen Po r tman w i l l ju s t s lay th emw ith h er " S a v a n n a h ^ S t a m p " .Luckily for us , Por ty does all herpracticing af ter school hours .H av e y o u h ear d th e r e t r e a tth eme so n g : " Y o u Wer e MenthF o r M e ? " IWe n o min a te f o r {this m o n t h ' sh er o : Mag g ie Burns's Jo e . A n dn o w th a t w e 'v e s een th e r ea lth ing, Mag, we don 't blame yo ufor "feeling that way."T ime o u t .F lo s sy A mmon, th e C amp u sCutie, just dashed in to borrow "awee b it of vaseline for the la shes."Another date with . Georgie,?to besu r e .Man y o rg an iza t io n s h av e b eenf o r med amo n g th e s tu d en ts th i sy ear . A mo n g th ese , th e mo s t o u ts tan d in g a r e :Th e D e Lu x e Kl a n : Nell Morin ,Honey D ai ley , Mar y I r w in , J an eKelly and Dot Morard .| Th e S tu d en t ' s If C lu b : Mar yLo u ise D aley , F r an c is McC ar th y ,Dibbie Wilber t and Costella Res-sler.The Secret Service Society : GinBuck and Helen P o r t m a n . *Th e Th r ee Mo sq u i to es : C ar me-lita Gill, Mickey McDonald andNan O'Brien . | f |Th e C r u sh es : D o t C r o n au er ,Jane Mulheirn , Dot Mooney.Th e Sch u man n - H ein k C lu b :Cleo Driscoll, Teresa A'Hearnan d C asey Eg an .Th e Perfectoes(Plu & Im.)Mar y A n n Wo o d s an d Mid g e H al l .Th e S a tu r d ay Nig h t Sh o p p er s :K ay R y an , A l ice S u mmer s an dJean E l l io t t .Th e Sch u man n - H ein k C lu b h asas th is month 's i t inerary , a weekend tr ip to Syracuse. Is i t in behalf of Roxy and his gan g or"BlueLaw Louie" ?Et has leaked out tha t "The

Secret Service Society" have alarge week-end planned in Pittsburgh for the near fu ture.C asey Eg an an d H elen Po r tmanhave decided to aid hum anit y andp u t o n th e " Mu t t an d Jeff" a c tevery Thursd ay af ternoon at t helocal Dispensary . Can 't you justsee the g ir ls two or three yea rshence in their l i t t le b lack calicodresses and b la ck sa ilors ?Good-bye everybody. We wantto see you all at the Perry theatreon the n ights of May 8th and 9 th . Nitanhal F w i t .

KNUTE K. ROCKNEBY NOW THE ENTIRE WORLD KNOWS THATKNUTE K. .ROCKNE IS GONE! N O R W A Y IS TOKNIGHT HIM NOTRE DAME WILL IMMORTALIZETHE NAME OF THE MAN THEY HAD COME TO KNOWSO WELL THE WORLD ITSELF CAN ONLY REMEMBER HIM! JUST TO REMEMBE.R THOUGH, IS A KINDTRIBUTElFOR A WORLD. II Grace Kane, '81.

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EDITOR-IN-CHIEFElizabeth Hamburger ' 3 1 |i ASSOCIATE EDITORS I IBerthaJMcHale, '31 I M Nellie Guilfoyle, '31

. I NEWS EDITORS MQeland Driscoll, '32t :? 1 Margaret Blair, '33Ruth Sterret t '34 WEXCHANGE EDITOR |Mary Ann Woods, '32 J^ART EDITORMadelyn Hall, '32

BUSINESS MANAGERJGrace Kane, '31HIDE AND SEEK

i "Modern thou ght has at last freed itself from theshackles of out-worn medievalism and has learned to ad-vance boldly on its own sails." The modern, emancipatedmindlis playing the age-old gamelof "Hide and Seek," differing, -perhaps, a bit in the fac t th at the player does hisown hiding first and then *proceeds with Chance in hispocket rathe r than Faith. This modern player sneers atthe hints of "Bee, bee, bumble bee, all home free"; "Cucumbe r"; "Tobacco", and all the other signals He is sufficientto himself. Hefbelieves in the "indulgence of human passion and the practical perm ission of excess in it". If he isfoolish enough to continue playing th e gam e he will findhimself being "It" over and over again. The!monotony ofnever experiencing the hiding part will make him alone anddesperate, and his desperation will breed monstrous things.Will this new player offthe game with his definitionof honor as something quaint, and of morals as a part ofthe past, survive? Or will the old players grasping ontotheir cherished gift of Faith stand by and watch him misshis goal every time ? fl Elizabeth H amburger, '31.

I STRIFEIn Philosophy class this morning, I looked out of thewindow and noticed a few little, white snow-flakes flutterin gfeebly down. But I knew tha t they would not flutter feeblyfor long, for the chances were that they would soon becomeaudacious and bold with the thought of an advancing, supporting horde behind them, and I wondered about the poorlittle North-returned birds, and the half-opened buds on thetrees, and the tender little flower shoots, seduced by thepassionate caress of that old roue Sun, implicated in so rrfenyjust such seductions. I wondered if these little wronged children of nature musn't feel much as the Romans did when,at sight of the ever increasing army of men, they sensed theinvasion of the Goths and Visigoths. For surely the birdsand the buds and the flower shoots knew that these first fewflakes were merely spies and represen tatives of tha t g reatarmy, Snow, and thai they were sent by General Storm, toget the lay of the land, and to see just how far Nature hadprepared her children for warfare.

I thought and wondered just what kind of fight theywould put up. I knew, however, that it would take a coupleof days, at least, for the actual conflict to begin, so I had nodefinite way of finding out. And then I remem bered thebattle these two great opposing forces had had last season,and vivid recollections returned of how the plants, couchedin effective warfare all winter long, in Nature's undergroundMilitary Camp, came forth with a surprising array of military tactics. They took the defensive, of course, and withstood the onslaughts of rain and sleet and snow, and firmlystood ground. Plant s have stood ground for centuries, everfirm, never forsaking it. And thus they did last season.Birds continued to sing and fly, buds to open and flowers toshoot. Finally, Sun, realizing his true love for the flowers,

allied his forces with them,, and Snow, unable to break downthe immovable barriers, retreated to his far-off kingdom inthe Sky, | $ -iVI thought a great deal about all this and I wondered ifwe human beings, faced with an unexpected onslaught ofworldly trouble, were not a little too prone to retreat, allowing trouble, a reallyjundeserving foerto take the field.I I Nell Guilfoyle, '31.

A N D P A T R I C I A

INTROSPECTIONAlthough the time may not jibe ripe *for thelbidding offarewells, Commencement is drawing near, Commencement,a time of sadness and gladness for all of us, from the mostunsophisticated Freshman to the most sedate Senior.The tassels are turned, the F reshman becomes a Sophomore, fthe Sophomore a Jun ior, jjandj the Senior steps outinto the world equipped with the finest possible preparationfor her life's work. Mingled with our joy there is a certain sadnesshidden though it*bew hich! accompanies every Spring at College. For each Spring witnesses the departure of the eldest,and consequently the dearest daughtersAlma Mater'sfinest. It isf not without regret that the College sees thesecherished daugh ters go forth to conquer their va riousworlds, but it is far more saddening to be among their number. It is only then th at the past four years of service andendearment loom up before us and we realize, at; last, that

the end of school days means the end of carefreeness and thebeginning of a greater responsibility.I Ber tha McHale, '31.?4\M Y B O Y F R I E N D . |Aloysius Doodlebug is his name.True he is not prepossessing in sizeor appearance, st i l l he is the bestboyfriend? a g irl e"ver had.

No mat ter how early or cold themorning, he is a lways ready toescort me s to the school , and henever complains or is the least bi tslow, tho he would much prefer tostay in his nice warm bed.And he is such a nice boy. Everyone appro ves of. him. He is always so wil l ing to fe tch and carryor to run the count less l i t t le errands so necessary in the everydaylife of a girl, that I am sometimesembarrassed at his courtesy.Unl ike most of the male specieshe never causes me any worry.For instance, he never fre ts me byforget t ing his rubbers, and evenwhen plowing thru the snow dri f tswith me he never scolds or loseshis cheery manner. His love of going places is one of his chief andbest characterist ics.One habi t he has tho, that bothers me, and that is, not a lways being qui te ' t idy, and l i t t le personalneatnesses mean so much. Somet imes I even have to order him totake a bath. But when he is a llsl icked up, My! but I 'm proud ofhim. His glossy blue coat wi th i tssmart red st r ipe , the top of hissleek head, his shining face andlarge luminous eyes are enough to

make any gir l fa l l in love withhim.I am not jealous of him, however. Perh aps this is because Iam so perfect ly sure of him. Ioften a l low him to go r iding withother gi r ls and never feel the leastbi t hurt i f he hugs them when going over a bump or thru a darkwoods.An d altho he does not indulgein such dist ressful habi ts as smoking or swearing, I sometimes suspect him of drinking. Severaltimes I have detected the odor ofalcohol on his breath but when Iaccuse him of i t he a lways mainta ins a stubborn si lence, actingon the theory, I suppose, thatanything he might say without theexpert counsel of his a t tor ney,might be used against him as incriminat ing evidence.Still taken all in all, he's apret t y nice boy and I am notashamed to say I love m y l i t t lecar . Can you blame me? |> R u t h Sterrett. '84.

KATHERINE T Y N A N HINKSONKa t he r i ne T yna n Hi nkson wa sborn in County Dubl in, Ire land, in1861. At the age of seventeen,she began to wri te the verseswhich have made her known to acountry of poetry-loving people .Kather ine Hinkson, w i th AliceMeynel l , was ment ioned as successor to Christ ina Rosset t i , af ter thelatter's death.Ka t he r i ne T yna n Hi nkson ha swri t ten much, both in prose andpoetry. Al though there is an exquisi te del icacy about a l l herworks, her f ic t ion is much inferiorto her poetry. In her stories, Mrs.

Hinkson has pic tured for us thel ives and manners of the primit ivecountry-side Ir ish people , andalso the "mil ieu" into which herma r r i a ge t o He nry A . Hi nksonplaced her. Mr. Hink son died in1919, and at this t ime, his widow,his two sons, and his daughtermoved to London. Mrs. Hinksondied in London on April 2, 1931.Most of us have read at least al i t t le bi t of Katherine TynanHinkson, and to those of us whohave read her "Plant ing Bulbs,"her recent death seems an almostuncanny occurrence. The poem isa subl ime thing, and part of i tgoe s :"Then in the daffodi l weatherLover shal l run to lover;Friends a l l t rooping together;Death and winter over.Laying my bulbs in the dark,i Visions have I of hereafter ,Lip to l ip, breast to breast , hark!No more weeping but laughter!"Ka t he r i ne T yna n Hi nkson ha srun to meet the lover who lefther twelve years agoleft to a-wai t , wi th her, a bet ter l i fe thanthis which he left. She has left,in the beautiful daffodil weather,to troop to the friends who lovedher, and, we t rust , to everlast inghappiness with h er Lord, wi thHis Eagle , His Swal low, and HisDovein Pa ra d i se .

Kay Ba r re t t , '33.o fThere is nothing f ine aboutsophist icat ion; it is too fundamental ly art i f ic ia l for that . I Someday women wil l real ize that lessnicot ine and more naturalness,less wine and more wisdom iswhat , more than anythin g else ,will place them on the plane ofadmirat ion which as women theyjshould possess. Minnesota Dai ly.

I love Patr ick. So would you,i f you knew him as wel l as I do.I wi l l admit Patr ick is green buthe is becoming more sophist icatedbecause of his constant associat ion with me. He and I are greatpa l s . I le t him see everything Iwri te and i f Patr ick doesn' t l ikei t he just crosses his legs and re fuses to abet me any further.However, he doesn' t act up veryoften and/as a rule has an ext remely placid disposi t ion.And he is so good-looking andwell -groomed. I have to wa tchh i m t hough a nd ma ke h i m shinehis shoes; he ' s so careless aboutthat one thing and I get so discouraged when he drags a blabof dir t across a gl istening paperand the worst part of i t i s he isso lackadaisical about the wholething. I 've a t t r ib uted i t to t h i sIr ish coloring. He does ge tfr ightened though, when he seesme be a r i ng on him;?wi t h t he blotter , ' cause he knows he ' s in for ti tand just ly.Pat r ick is dist inct ive. He is sotall and sleek. His skin is mott ledbu t I don ' t w or ry because Ifitdoesn' t seem to affect his generalhe a l t h . |How he does nest le in myhand and pour forth words of endearment and occasional ly he be comes caust ic . He even le ts mechew on his l i t t le black cap whenperplexi ty seems to be get t ing thebest of me. He does ge t a ngrywith me for I t reat him shabbi lywhen I 'm in a hurr y. He objectss t rong l y t o be i ng t h rus t i n t o apocket ful l of nondescript ar t ic les his exclusive n atu re revol ts.Once he went so far as to hidehimself in the pocket of a car andhad me worried sick because hecatches cold so easi ly and his littlet ummy s i mpl y i wi t he r s up .But I have forgot ten Patricia the brazen huzzy. She and Pa tr ick don' t get a long j very wel l .Patr ick is get t ing kind of peevedat my air ing family affa i rs. Buti t r e a l l y i s ma dde n i ng how Pa t r i c ia t re ats him. She is so homelyI real ly can' t see what my lovelyPatr ick sees in her. She is sobrown I and dul l and her complexion is st reak y. Whe n she walksshe take s such lar ge indel icatesteps and yet she seems to upsetPatrick^ so his digest ion isaw ry for a week. I have to becareful what I feed him and yethe likes her. Patr ic ia is such ava mp a nd whe n she a r ra nge s he rgold cap and casts her hol low eyeat Patr ick he simply wil ts. Thento my consternat ion she lures himupon some soggy blot ter and hes t a nds so l ong t ha t he d ra gs ba c kall the dirt he can hold on his feet.So I am trying to break up theaffai r and keep P atr ic k awayfrom Patric ia ' s evi l spel l , so Ican be sure of efficient pe rform -ance. He sput te rs and even spi ts,but I give him a good jab and hesubsides. He makes me awful lymad at t imes but he is indispen-sible and he knows i t . True tohis color he loves to torment meoften, but I end as I began: I lovePa t r i c k . Je a nne E l l i o t t *81.

FAMOUS L A S T W O R D S"I wo nder if it 's loaded. I' lllook down the barrel and see.""L ook a t t h i s wi re ha ng i ngdown into the st re et! I ' l l throwit to one side."% wonder whether this rope wil lhold my weight ." f"L i s t e n ! T ha t ' s t he i n t e ru rba nwhist le . Step on the acceleratorand we ' l l beat i t across.""That firecracker mu st havegone out , I ' l l l ight i t again.""It ' s no fun swimm ing here .I 'm going ou t beyond the l i felines.""Watch me skate past the 'danger ' sign, I ' l l bet I can touch i t . "

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APRIL. 1931 THE MERCIAD Paef3KA Y' S KOLUM

"O , to be in England,Now, that Apri l ' s here!"Most of us, I guess, have al ways been under the impressionthat June is the favored month ofthe poets, because i t i s the monthof roses, romances, and marriages.But , according to f!Fra nc i s Fra z e e ,we're alls wron g all of us!cuz he says a whole volume ofverse might be gathered, whereinApri l plays the leading role

The spring poems of Robert LouisStevenson, two of the 'most general ly known being, "Requiem"and "Song to the Open Road", andEmily Dickenson's p o e m o n"Spring" stand out st rongly am ongthis galaxy of springt ime wordp a i n t i n g s What similari ty does Grace seebetween c-h-a-s-t-e and c h a s e d ?Something awfully good for soreeyes Mary McCrady in her greenand white dress Pink mus t beKay Ryan's favorite color Wil lJe a nne e ve r g row up? -Sor ry ,Jeanne, ole dear, that was just toogood and couldn't! be resisted.As Mary says, i t ' s that everlast ingYouth in your heart which iswholly responsible for our darlingPe t e r Pan-We've often wondered if Betty Danahy will everfall in love or has she ? andis she clever enough to hide it?Marie Lynch could die, listeningto Guy Lombardo and his RoyalCanadiansfVhen Ca se y E ga npasses, it 's like a bit of lavender,wafted along by a breath of Engl ish springt ime Professor Rel i-han recent ly, (qui te unconsciously), tipped the Sophomores off asto why they' re a lways so t i redafter his c lasses remembe r th atday, Mr. Relihan? E l e a nor Russel l wi l l forever remind me of th ebeautiful Helen of Troy and, theKolum wishes to congratulateEleanor upon her lovely new position Peggy Blair has her weekends too Berth a missed herweekly 11:30 F riday night cal lfrom "New York", the night of the

Senior dance, April 17thtoo bad,Berth a! this wri te r extends sin-cerest sym pathy Ginny looks sosophisticated ewith her hair upKolum's congratulat ions to Bet tyFasenmeyer Berry, and to Ed, tooMay you both have a long, longhappy l i fe!! Al though the favorite outdoor sport of th e Chinesehas been long out of vogue, Birdieand this Kolumist are st r iving totake up Man Jonng, wi th a zestand a reason! after a l l , i t i s anaccomplishment, isn't it, Birdie?Wh at' s happened to the Baed-ers? Mrs. Baeder ' s charm ingpresence is a lways an asset to anycrowd, and jolly Mr. Baeder canchase any cloud awayFath er Sul l ivan says he l ikesthis Kolum sure mea ns a lot tohave people say they l ike thingsyou do. I 'm del ighted, Fathe r,that you do Sorry can' t getthis fudge idea out of my head,but , you,should tast e the fudgeFa t he r Su ll i va n ma ke s i t t a ke sth e cake I! There 's a crowd ofSeniors in the Sem who are plentycute , and who know how to wearstun ning ! c lothes Casey's newAuburn Phaeton is a graduat iongift , and, do we ever think Caseyis a lucky girl ? she says to wai tunt i l she comes back with the topdown, but Mary Ann can' t - Wecan imagine it ' ll be pre tty -keen,though Guess wh at? thisKolum and} i ts humble scribe"broke into" Dot Kay's SocialChat ter over a t the D. H. a fewSundays ago and, according to alocal newspaperman,/anyone wh ois lucky enough to "make" SocialChat ter , i s social ly e l igibleSo,if that still holds, we're sociallyeligible, Kolum you and meboth and Jay James got after

me the other day t r ied to accuse me of plagiarism or wha tha ve youWe l l * r e a l l y wa sn ' tt h a t badbut he wanted to knowJust what I meant by taking his"s t u f f " ' t wa s a l l i n | fun , t h o \and we're the best of friends a-gain * 1 |Jane Turgeon spent Easter Sunday with Edythe Schi ll and herfamily down in Lucinda Veraspent a lovely Easter recess at-theCol l e ge now, why does Vera'sname invariably a lways come upwhe n Ja ne ' s is mentioned, and,vice versa?Nan O'Brien is chicto the nth degree of chicness inthat colorful red, black, and whitemesh sweater of hers O, /dear,everyone came back with so manyclever looking clothes, it wouldtake twenty Merciads to te l l a l la bou t themLu Ella looks verysmart in her Lapin jacket-andMa ry Kel ley is awful ly t r ick inher bright blue sui t and wenever saw Casey look so grown-upas she does in th at red outfit ofhersIrene Strahl who alwayslooks;simply gorgeous is part icularly lovely in her navy blue sui tMin has a ducky blue coat wi tha whi te paten t leather bel t and,is Min get t ing to be the splendiddr i ve r? why, she ' s ma rve l ous!

only she can' t remember to put herl ights onj when she ' s out a t night I ' ve heard so many nice thingsabout the Seniors ' dance, that I 'vejust had to come to no other conclusion that that i t was the mostsuccessful Idance ever held a tMercyhu rst The informal i ty of iti s wh at seems to have won thehe a r t s o f t he gue s t s from the veryfirst Th at dance will go down inthe Col lege History as a {beautifulmemo ir of the Class of '31, whomwe' re going to miss terr ibly nextyear A nother former Mercyhurst gi r l , (ex '30) , has gone andmiddle-aisled-it, under sunny skieswitho ut te l l ing her fr iends aword about i t , beforehand"Aperfect woman "This t ime, next month, everyonewill be breathing more freely, cuzthe play will be over, and will havebeen a huge success in every wayas a l l the former Mercyhu rstplays have been and Mother Borgia wil l look as though she oughtto go off to some far place by herself, and convalesce from the veryeffects of the excitement and success of it all. It was good to seethat Jane Kel ley is wel l and backat the old grind again and, MickeyMcDonald, too and now Janehas the mumps by the way,Mickey me t someone duringEaster vacat ion who knows youa hairdresser qu i t e c ha rmi ngThe Erie Chapter of Seton HillAlumnae is sponsoring a BridgeTea at the Sunset Country Clubon Saturday afternoon of May thesixteenth Let ' s turn out , gi r ls,and show them we can do itTheyalways are here one hundred perc e n t fo r our pa r t i e sFrann ie McCarthy is so quietla te ly, we hardly know she ' saround We never knew Mercyhurs t gi r ls went for Barbecues insuch a big waySister Ma ryAlice has a lot of school spiritAny for sale? At Last I've got allthe info ' about Mary Louise ' s weekends Yes, I know, my nameshould have been "Sherlock " but,somewhere ' r otherthere wa s a"fox pass" (all due apologies toM r. Relihan!)-If Sister Jane Francis would sell some of the manybeautiful songs she has composed,we could build our new Chapel inless than a week and, in case,you haven' t heard Sister Janewro te "Sally An n", the wistful,

catchy theme song of the big showAnd, speakin g of the play thebig contest is on!! who's going toget the dainty l i t t le wrist watch,

which is being offered as firstprize?Jean Summ ers had a bir thdayApril 20th, and all those closelyconcerned with the young lady inquestion shared in a birthday celebrat ion fest on the eve of the eventful day Speaking of part iesGrace and Ruthie Wilbert had ajoint birthday celebration for Vickand Hick which was indeed verynovel Mary McCrady contributedtwo goldfish respectively name d"Vick", and "Hick " I |Al ice Summers must have had adelightful time at the;Danceshe's been in a sort of ecstacyever since -rather "Don" up, I 'dsay_ Snooky! Mrs. Smith haswon herself a cozy p lace in thehea rts of all of us and, it 's going to be hard to le t her goSt i l l mad, Jeanne ? Get over itI can' t stand i t Bianca andher ta lented sisters should beworld-famous some dayO, this spring weathe r! andthis dreadful ma lady of springfever which I contracted from ajperfectly lovely, perfectly exquisitespring morning jus t can' tv resistthe e ternal temptat ion to lol l anddream Don 't you love to sit inthe st reaming sunl ight , and dreamof a garden just for you? Agarden you hav e planned longago, perhaps, and which you maybe t r ipping out to hoe and sprinklereal soon "Every gard en?s at isfies a deep, etern al longing insome human heart" and, so, bei t real i ty or imag ery, i t ' s stillyour garden, and I you love it!Which reminds me I 've a garden that I planted in my memoryonce upon a time in the longlong ago my Garden is callingme It ' s Apri l"Sweet Aprilmany a t hough tIs wedded unto thee, as heartsare wed." . K a y .c-A BRE A T H OF L A VE NDE R.She was such a dear, little oldlady, as she sat rocking gent lybefore the hug e fireplace. The

flickering light played softly onthe delicate, porcelain face andits halo of spun silver; and herlavender dress and i ts creamylace handkerchief bespoke thegent lewoman of generat ions ago.Here was a character which hadthrived in the sunl ight andshadows, which had lived to thefullest extent, and over and abovethe stormy stress of life had conquered with the indomitable courage of her smile.But now the I withered lilies ofher hands lay. quiescent in herlap and her book unheeded hadslid softly to her chair, as adreamy smile lit the tranquil oldface.Suddenly the flames began todance and sparkle , forming grotesque, phan tom pictures, as littleblue wisps of smoke, like sheerchiffon floated over the crimsonand gold of th e fire. A face,young and st rong and vir i le appeared on the hea rth. A pioneer,whose eyes were ever toward theWest , dreaming visions that hewould never live to see materialize. Back of him, a lumberingcovered wagon drawn by ploddingoxen, rumbled perilously over ast range and virgin land.Then a log cabin, rude andstout , w i t h forests primevalmenac ing its very existence became distinct. Slinking beas tslurked in ambush and made thenight hideous with their weird,mournful cries. Children, sturdyproducts of the prair ie t rudgedtheir solemn way to school, as theslender young mother stood in thedoorway waving a prayerful farewell.Again the flames crackled. Thechildren were grown now, to

brawny manhood. Around thelonely cabin, other houses ha dsprung up, other young mothersand children, families that formeda t iny* set t lement vi l lage. Thefirst couple were older, tire der,now that the wearisome burdenhad been lifted.The picture faded. A newscene slowly came into view.This t ime a thriving town, whosebusy st reets were thronged withpeople. Horses and carriagesstood in grea t numb ers beforethe shops. Houses, ornately ugly,rose in brown-stone splendor, asopulent dowagers minced downtheir steps to wai t ing coaches.And now, the madness of thefire abated . Quietly, steadily, itsembers glowed, as the force of itsfitful life was spen t. Like a mirrored reflection arose the nextpicture . A ci ty, large and bust l ingwith the noise of a | thousandmachines, and the grandchi ldrenof pioneers . Modern and bewildering, i t qui te overcame the feebleflicker of Vulcan, who sputteredand silently faded, leaving butashes \ and dust .The old eyes closedand th esilvery head nodded, and fell backon the S chair./ ' Gra ndm a ! Wa ke up! You 'velet the fire go out!" A voice, calling distant ly thru the generat ions,burst on the silent room, as thefaithful old clock droned it smonotonous song. The twil ight sun,whose dusty gold had *!furnishedthe only other light suddenly vanished under the frown of a fleecyblack cloud. A sudden chill struckthe hush of the room and for aninstant the huddled group ofshadows, drew closer their cobwebs. Then "Gra ndma !" again the start led cry this t imewith an intangible note of fear.But Grandma who had sofearlessly taken life by the hand,an d who had t ravel led the longhard road, had clasped the friendlyfingers of her ghosts, and noiselessly joined their number.f Rut h Sterrett. '34.

A T RIBUT E T OKNUT E ROCKNEKnute Rockne is dead today!Master mind of that great play.A gent leman of the very highesttype was he, An athlete with honest ideals, allcould see.He possessed those qualities ofheart and mind,That the world would hope in allto find.Of all great coaches he was peer,His "Horsemen" al l had cause tocheer,"Carry on" Notre Dame! Leave no

records unbroken,To "your Rockne" may this be agrateful token.Ride on Ho rseme n! All lines tosever,A Phantom Horseman wil l coachyou ever.Now that he has reached the highest goal, |We'l l pray, "God rest KnuteRockne's soul."Elizabeth McDonald, '34.

0 'Professor: Leibni tz was thecoiner of the term "theodicy."Student:| I a lways t h o u g h tHomer wrote the Odyssey.oSays Helen H.: Maybe most college-bred studen ts am ount to afour-years' loaf on father's dough,but because I need the dough allI' ll turn out to be is a hard biscuit.

S W E E T SLUMBERJNow I do not pretend to be aStephen Leacock, nor a RobertBenchley, when i t comes to wil t ing humorous essays, but something has happened in my l i fewhich causes me to wish firmlyand sincerely that my gif ts weresuch as those essayists possess. Ifyou agree with this, te l l others; i fnot, tell me.Dear reader, to re t i re in thesmall hours of the morning,?when

the dusky sky rol ls back and reveals the slowly approaching delicate pink of day, is one thing, butto arise when not even the pink ofday is disclosed, is quite anotherthing. Ah! a ket t le of wrathboils within me, i as I recall justsuch an incident.I t has been my lot for the pastfour years to greet ; he new dayjust as a l l the factory whist les,st reet-car gongs, church bel ls,auto horns, my neighbor ' s a larmclock, and my "Big Ben" minglewith each other in an effort towaken Erie , Kane, Corry and Du-Bois. vNow my "Big Ben" is a very re liable old alarm clock and knowshi s place land his duty very well.So every night I se t the key forseven o'clock and every morning

at seven o'clock loudly roars thealarm . The cold winters a l wa yswreaks havoc with my "Big Ben,"and occasionally it refuses toshake me from my slumbers.So it was on the last cold, dark,wintry morning in this benevolenttown. Sleeping the sleep of thejust , wi th my head buried deep inmy pillow, and th r remainder ofmy anatomy mixed with heaps ofblankets as protect ion against thegale blowing through my windowsand turning the pic tures on thewall aw ry, a head, completelycovered with paper curlers, I burs tthrough'my door and shouted,"Get up! Twenty after seven $Alarm didn't^go off!" then disappeared, jShivering and scowling at theblack sky, I leaped from thefcbed,g ra bbe d- unsuspect ing clothing,put them on, dashed to the bathroom, splashed hot jand then coldwater over my sleepy face, snat-jched a cup of coffee from m yGrandmother ' s t rembling f ingers,she all the time apologizing forhaving let me over-sleep (why, Ididn't know), pulled on a hat andcoat and gloves, turned to switchoff the light and saw the beamingface of my clock, so peacefullyt icking away the minutes and giving a cheerful tinkle as the handspointed to6:30 o'clock!Eileen Foster , '34.I f I WE RE A MIL L IONA IRE !

For the "upper" class, and their"milieu" |I should never have a care;I would scorn their balls: theirteas-for-two,If I were a millionaire!I would take the poor kids to theshows,To the circuses, and fairs;Popcorn and peanuts I 'd buy themin rows,If I were a millionaire!I'd take all the poor folks out to* sup,Clothe little limbs that wereba re ;I'd make overflow the blindman'scup, IIf I were a millionaire!A bungalow I would build for meAway from the wear and tear,- j[Where some one I loved and Ishould be,If I were a millionaire!Heart at peace with God and man,I'd fare W ' - j $SHappily:were 1 a millionaire.Kay Barret t , '33.

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Page 4 THE MERCIAD APRIL. 1931THE LADYAs some eminent write r hasaptly said , "the lady is proverbialfor her skill in eluding definition."This is undoubted ly- t rue , thoughto hear the endless d iscussions upon the in tere st ing subject , onewould gathe r that everyone hashis own part icular defin it ion. Farfrom attempting to g ive a s tandardised conception I of the terms,it is rathe r the in tention of thewriter to portray in a series of d iscussions the theories that various

typical societ ies have entertainedof the lady. She may here beknown, then, as the woman of thefavored social class. As in every other inquiry in tothe his tory of European ideas ,one must begin with an examination of the Greeks. The firs tnumber of "The Lady", wil l thenconcern the G reek ideal of thelady. \The Greeks developed the conventional type of lady, distinguished from women at large byth e number:of th in g s she4couldnot do. As M enander said ; "Awife is a necessary evil ." S hewas condemned to a life in-doorsamo ng a people tha t lived out ofdoors, and!shut off from all contac t wi th th a t o u te r wo r ld th a tmight have changed the wholestatu s of her exis tence had shebeen permitted to become a partof it. ^ S I m ? 1Even the serious Demonstheneswas known to say in a public address , "We have cou rtesans forpleasure, s lave women for per-sonal service, and wives to bear uslawful offspring and be faithfulguardian s of our houses ." At th isperiod when the human spiri t wasat i ts freest , the lady was enclosed on all sides. Ar t andthought and let ters were reachingthe highest development they wereever to know, but for the ladythey hardly exis ted.The lady of Athens had perhapsth e most-unhappy fate as compared with her Spartan neighbor.At Athens the lady was receivedat b irth with less enthusiasm thana boy baby, since the question ofher dowry immediately confrontedher parents . She never received asystematic education,doubtless she could sometimesread and write ; she learned fromher mother a certain amount ofhome management, and rel ig iousinstruction was delightful to hersince it was the occasion of heronly outings. When she was ofmarriageable age, her ' paren tspicked out for her as desirable ayoung man as her. dowry wouldfetch. She was betrothed withgreat ceremony, married with less ,an d Uvea as happy thereafter asher husband permitted* She wasa perpetual minor in the eye ofthe law. I Before ^marriage he rfather, or nearest male relat ive,was her guardian; after marriage,her husband. Her dowry passedinto her husband's hands, subjectto the'provision that if he divorced *,her, he must pay i t back.She seldom left the house, neverunattended by a female s lave. Atthe religious festivals from whichmany were excluded she mingledfreely with other women, butthere was apparently l i t t le or novisiting from house to house. Shewas visible to the pubi i c only whenfrom tim e to time she took par t ina general religious ceremony orwatch ed a pious procession. Thepeasants women worked withtheir fellows in the fields, the market-women chattered in the agora,the courtesans came and went asthey would and sharpened theirwits by talk with all sorts of people. But the LADY had no societybut that of her s laves.

She had social relations with nofree man save those of her fam-

though

ily. If her husband dined alone athome she shared his meal, but ifhe had guests she was unseen.j Helived mostly away from home in aman 's world of a very high type.His life was carried on in thepresence of magnificent objects ofa r t an d was stimulate ' by the excit ing presence of great men.Naturally h is home was not veryamusing, and his wife seemedpretty nearly to be a creature ofa different species. But he wa sscrupulous in h is respect to? her,very careful to use no unsuitablelanguage;in her presence and tomaintain her good opinion of him.

Were a s tranger to have vis i tedAthens at th is t ime he would havebeen vastly impressed by the fulls tream of Athenian l ife, noting thepretty women in the-street, feeling everywhere the cult of womanhood, yet he would have reflectedafterward that by some odd coincidence he had not once been inthe same room with a woman ofconventional social position.? Thusit became evident that the Greekslike al l mankind were capable ofseeing the better and following th eworse. In practice the Greekshad shorn the lady of all but negative qualities and left her veryli t t le room for unrestrained action;s t i l l , their art and their l i teraturewere full of the traditi on ofgalady whose characteris t ic wasfreedom. All the ladies they sawwere prisoners , though al l theladies they thought' about werefree. To quote a vivid example,one ma y refe r to the j,"ideal" ofHomeric women which we havecome to learn was but a figmentof the wonderful \ imagination ofHomer, rather than a represen-tation of the actual lady of hisday.;Plato endeavored in his plan ofthe s tate to solve the problem,which, however, proved to be toomuch for h im. That o ther menhad thoughts on the subject s imilar to Plato's is evidenced in thecomedies of Aristopha nes w hichshow a thorough understanding ofthe problem and prove that thegeneral public must also havebeen familiar with it.;.- No th in gwas done to remed y conditions,that* is nothing beneficial. Theadvent of the s tarkly differentwarrior-l ike type of woman into asociety of this kind served to in-tensify the contrast between theshy, modest , ret iring, unfortunateAthenian woman and t he newcomers , the Amazons; but extremes then as now, were not toachieve the desired?results. Thesewere to come later in the development of the Roman S tate. The"LADY of Rome" we 1 leave for alater discussion.

LuElla M. Haaf, '33o" A SHRINKING VIOLET"One day not so long ago, I re ada passag e lauding the sw eetnessand s inceri ty of a maiden Hervirtues far outweighed & her vices,and in the end, the author compared her to a "shrinking violet ."The maiden was much to be admired and so I decided I had foundmy avocation at last. I would bea "shrinking violet."The first big problem was howto shrink. My natural way ofgreeting was always more of a"Hail-fel low-well-met" character,but in my new role this wouldneve r j? do. When I s tarted toanalyze myself I even found thatmy approach was wrong. In placeof walk ing up brave ly ' with astraight-forward manner, my newmethod would be a sidling, rather

flitting movemen t tha t wouldbring me almost noiselessly to thefront of my victim. I would makemy eye-lids flutter many times before offering my timid, sweet,musical l i t t le "How-do-you-do?"

People would walk miles to meetme; my shrinking personali tywould win the admiration of theworld . So I thought in the privacyof my room. >$ A few days later, opportunityknocked at my door and I was tobe in troduced to a very importantperson. Carefully I dressed; choosing a delicate shade of I blue, applying just a touch of make-upand doctoring myself with violet-scented perfume ; I satisfied myself that I was complete in everydetai l . My hour had come! Iwould impress th is v is i tor with myinfinite worth and have him singmy praises forever more.

Hesitat ing an Instant before theparlor door, I carefully smoothedmy hair, then gracefully I openedthe door and bega n my floatingprogress across the room, bu t in -stantly I knew som ething w aswrong. Instead of producing agraceful effect, I caught the toeof my foot on the edge of therug, fell the lengthfof the floor.Blushing furiously, I rose to myfeet by th is t ime I was almostpurple in the face I made avain at tempt to wink kit tenishlyat my vict im; but al l in vain! Mymaster-mind had fai led me mydiscovery was no discovery at all.I was not a "shrinking violet ." Tenminutes later I