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THE STUDENTS JOURNAL.
view, clouds began to arrive on the horizon. They did not look threatening, but father wanted to go back. Of course we children "knew" it was not going to rain and coaxed him to go on. He did so, but by the time we were half way to Photo Creek, his fears were realized, the rain was upon us. We drove hastily to a low cabin on the prairie on which we were but nobody was at home, and the door was locked. The cabin was of logs with a clapboard roof projecting about a foot beyond the walls. Under this slight protection we all huddled, but the rain kept falling for about two hours, and by the end of that time we were all well soaked, and a clock inside the cabin warned us that it lacked only one hour of noon. Again father wanted to return, but again we dissuaded him and by twelve o'clock we had reached the grounds.
We all got out of the wagon, and we children with our new clothing still sticking fast to our backs, began to explore the grounds, while father unhitched the horses. We expected to see something unusual, but the grove was so much like groves we had seen before that we were much disappointed. Even the "grand stand" we had heard so much about was a very tame affair. It was nothing but a rough platform of unplaned lumber, supported by wooden horses. And the seats which we expected would surely have some romance about them were nothing but a large, low semi-circular platform on which the boards were far enough apart to allow one to put his feet through upon the ground. It was placed just north of the "grand stand." and opened toward it.
After this hasty survey of the grounds, we all sat down upon a wet log and ate our dinner of wet bread, chicken, cake and pie
Now we children wanted to go home, but a crowd was fast gathering, and father was determined to stay and hear the sermon that was to be preached. The preacher soon took his place on the "grand stand," and we all sat on the wet planks along with the rest of the congregation, and listened for two hours to a sermon on "the serpent in the wilderness." O; how tired we children became! and how we wished he would quit! I had never heard a sermon before, and I wondered what he was talking and shouting about. He described the serpent and the pole, upon which it had hung, with such vehemence that I could almost see them before me, and
he seemed so earnest about making us look at the pole that I feared something was wrong and felt a sense of dread in my heart.
We thought the sermon would never end, but at last it did, and with a feeling of relief we started home. All that I remember of our journey home is about passing along a heavily timbered river. Even to this day I can see the green water of the stream, and the glittering drops on the heavy foliage. After that the picnic is a blank. Perhaps I was overcome with fatigue and went to sleep. But, as I said in the beginning, my conception of picnics that day undewent a radical change. Even now I agree with Mark Twain in calling a picnic a bore.
S. A.M.Y.
Language Conference.
The conference met at the appointed time last Friday. The first business was the admission of new members. Professor Hopkins, who had moved at the meeting two weeks before that the class in American Literature be made associate members of the conference, seconded his motion, which had been left over, and the class was admitted to membership.
Following the business, the announced program was rendered. Mr. Young pointed out that the striking difference between Le Misanthrope and Timon, of Athens is that Moliere's chief character hates man's vices, while Timon hates man. Professor Wilcox remarked that Timon and his surroundings as portrayed by Shakespeare were Roman rather than Greek and accounted for the anarchronism by saying that in Shakspear's time whatever was classical was GaechoRoman and not Greek or Roman
Professor Hopkins occupied the remaining time with an interesting talk distinguishing the new analytical methods of literary criticism from the old method, which made a literary effect felt without showing how the effect was produced.
Married
On last Saturday, at 6 o'clock p. m.. at the home of Professor Blackmar, his sister, Mrs. Ellen B. Maxwell, was married to Captain Albert S. Barker, late commander of the flagship Philadelphia, U. S. N. Dr. Marvin performed the ceremony. Mr. and Mrs. Barker left for Chicago that evening.
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