Issuu

fith_1uond Vol IX.

RICHMOND,VA., MAY, 1884.

EDIT0){::,.-.1fo

Sirnna Hku, R. -S. REDD,

:f]fon, E. B hl,'l'CH

,!s.it.

E. P.

A. J . DICKINS@N; Phil0l0-

LIPSCOMB.

BUSINl~::-iS )'lAN AGER,-R.

fl\rans1ation

HUBBARD

No. 8. ·

,..

t1•om Horace.)

'l'O PYRRHA. l.

,v1iat yonth, with many a tioweret erowned, With liquitl odors perfumed sweet, With love-snits ,presses thee around,0 Pyrrha, in thy soft retreat ? For whom dost foose thy yellow hair.!' .

n. Plain in thy neatness l If he waits,How oft, ut faith soon broken, will He weep, and sigh at fitful fates! And, all un'lilsecl,with wonder 1 11fill At seas gt·own rough 'neath storm-dark air,IIL

. He, who so now enjoys thee fast, With swoot thought of thy eonstaricy l Who, ignoraut of the trustless blast, Hopes thou from foreign loves art free, Believing thou art all h.e -craves. IV,

Ah, wo 's for those to whom untried '.rhou show'st thy charms ! '!'he temple, set With votive tablets on its side, Proves I have offered vestments wet Unto great Neptune of the waves. CLINTON,

Richmond

College Mcss!Jriger.

READING . . · "A man is known by the compamy he keeps 11· is an old and faithful saying; but company should .be extended beyond what is commonly recognized as its limits: there is a companionship of books as well as of men; then we may change the wording to th~s particular case. A man is known by the books he reads, aye, more by the books he loves to read· As one should always seek the companionship of tlie best of his fellows, so also' should he seek the companionship of the best of books. A book may be as truly a friend or an enemy as a person. ,A friend, when it, winding about our heart, entering into our very veins, becoming a part o,f ns, ennobles and beautifies our thoughts. The world of our tl10ught encompasses the world of our life. Then only good books can be our friends, for they alone are capable of elevating our life, making it grander and nobler. Good and true thoughts often act as a guide and protector from the . snares and devices of the tempter. They are always a. sweet comfort to us in time of need; though all els3 lrnve · forsaken us, yet we have sweet recourse to them, making our lives happier and better here below. Books always remain to us, they are monuments more lasting than brass or more enduring than stone. The tooth of time cannot deface the great thoughts therein embodied;:· they are as fresh to:-day a,s when they were first expressed by their autlior. · Time has only been the great sifter, se tting apart the wheat from the chaff. To-d~,y the living characters speak to us as plainly as they did when first they were penned. · Reading brings us face to face with the greatest miiidE>of the ag·es; we participate in their joys and in their trials, their experience becomes ours; -we think their thoughts. We read Homer to-day,-Homer still · lives Horace and Virgil sing as beautiful songs now, as · of old. Would you to-day have a song, Horace" will sing you a beautiful song." Would you be joyful, Cervantes will make>you laugh. Would you be sad, Jeremy Taylor

Reading.

will grieve with you. To books we can turn for entertainment, instructi on, comfort,__:_at all times,--in adversity and in prosperity, in gladness and in sorrow. Truly has it been said that the best books are those which most resemble good actions. They are purifying and elevating, they enlarge the mind-in fact, they fashion and shape the mind. Then let us be careful what boo.ks we r ead, for we are choosing between cultivating and enlarging our mind and the reverse. Here we have a strong sup:... port of the study of the classics in our schools and colleges. Though we, as we spend the midnight oil poring over the Iliad or the .JFJneid,may not appreciate tb,e. benefit we are deriving, yet in after years we will say it was well. Classical studies give the highest finish to intellectual culture. The great scholar Erasmus said: "Books are the necessaiÂˇies of life and clothes the luxuries." He was known by the company he kept-his constant companion was Cicero, whom he read with great emotion, considering him as one a little short of inspired of God. The wise selection in reading has done much to advance and improve man. Thomas Hood says:'' A natural turn for reading and inteJlectual pursuit preserved me from moral shipwreck, so apt to befall those who are deprived in early life of their parental pilotage. My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the saloon. The closet associate with Pope and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble though silent intercourse with Shakspeare and Milton, will hardly seek or put up with low company ,or slaves." St. Augustine was a profligate and abandoned sensualist until the reading of Hortensius set llim on a course of inquiry and study which resulted in his becoming one of the greatest of the fathers of the early Church. What a bad choice of books has done and is doing, we have only to look around us and see evi~ dences. , Why does that student (?) sitting on the back bench, apparently Âˇso absorbed in his text-book, always answer " unprepared" to his professor ? I have neither time nor space t.o go into the enumeration of evils brought about by low, trashy, and vulgar papers which are now flooding our land and corrupting our English tongue. The

Rfohrnona CollegeMessenger-.

moral influence o1' reading has alwa .ys been felt upon the general civilization of mankind. By reading, we open the storehouses of knowledge o1' the human race; by it, we acquaint ourselves with the labors ·, achievements, successes, &c., in science, philoso-phy, and religion of every age . Rabelais in France and Cervantes in Spain, by using ridicule overthrew the dominion of monkery and chivalry . People read and then laughed, and felt reassured. So • Telemachus appeared, and being read, recalled men to the harmonies of nature. Now a word of warning : we may be wise in .the selection of our authors, but we may carry reading too far; we may have our whole soul wrapped up i:n reading, and nothing else can satisfy us. We seek the companionship of books ta the exclusion of friends. This must not be done , the best of things can be carried to excess. I would say with Wesley, "Beware you be not swallowed up in books ; an ounce of love is worth a pound of knowledge." But ye calico men, always on the alert to take anything foi· an excuse for your do-nothing-ess, would seize at this-to you I say it would be more profitable during college days to calico less and read more. 'Bus.

THE DECLINE OF POETRY. Whether or not the noblest of all arts is declining, can• not but be a question of interest. The poet has been reverenced in all ages . . Is the day coming when men shall be compelled to look only to an inimitable past for a taste of poetic sweetness? Men love the poetic. The refined taste is enraptured by it, and by it even the uncultured are fascinated. Will poetry then ·vanish from {he earth, and leave only a reverenced past, or will it remain with us a rich possession for all time ? This brief sketch will attempt to show that poetry is not dying, that men have not ceased to love the beautiful, the sublime, the poetic. It has been argued that some ages of the world have

'The Decline of Poetry.

been favorable, and others unfavorable to the development of poetry, and that our own age is one of those unfavorable to the development of this art. But if this age is unfavorable to the production of poetry, it is natural to inquire, why should it be 50? Have not the events in human affairs been â€˘ similar in all ages of the world'? Can one point to a particular age, and say that that age gave birth to events that tickled the poet's fancy and that this did not, that this age made the fire of poesy glow warm Âˇin men's breasts, and that did not? This would be quite impossible. The principle of similarity and uniformity in the workings of nature is a most important one. It lies at the very basis of all our knowledge History . is constantly repeating itself. Nature does not change. The all-wise Creator has so ordained it, that the course of human affairs and human dispositions have been uniform ever since the world was tossed from his hand and peopled by his handiwork. Âˇ Are not the soul's passions like they used to be ? Cannot men of this age be stirred by the beautiful and the pathetic? Is the day of feeling gone'? If not, the ilay of poetrr still lives. As long as the soul s11all be capable of emotion, the _soul will be poetic. But when the soul shall have lost its feeling, its tenderness, then will men walk through the lovely earth unmindful of the beauties that are about them, then will men be cold-hearted and stern and poetry be forgotten. We are told that the beauties of nature give inspiration to the poet. But nature is as lovely now as it has ever been. The birds sing as sweetly in the forest, the trees are as green, the flowers as fragrant and lovely, the same old sun that in time past mounted his chariot in the morning time, runs the same course with equ 'al splendor. That ours is an extremely practical age, has been the cause assigned for a great many of the f.aults of our times. It is the bread and meat of many an old fogy and vain theorist. He does not see but that this age has solely adopted and is hopelessly lost in the motto, " Business is busine 3s." He believes that everything which was in days

Richmond Colle,qeJ.1!lessenger.

gone by, especially that which is delicate and good and . pure, is being put to flight by stern, unfeeling practice. But can the practical nature of our times be ri!;\'htly assigned as a reason why poetry will, ere long, be a thing of which only a past may boast? History shows us that ancient Rome was one of the most practical countries that ever existed. This, her conquests show ; for by her prowess she conquered the world; lrnr laws show the practical natm;e of her people, for the spirit which was em.bodied in them, lives in -the code of every civilized country. Her laws h.ave never been excelled. The language of the Ro:. mans shows that they were a practical people. The Latin proved itself the stronger in all of its linguistic conquests. The Greek language, with all its culture, could not withstand its power. Its adaptability to the needs of the people, made it the greatest language of the world. And it may even now be said with propriety that the Latin is a living language. Its strength is still felt in the languages of Europe and America. Was poetry wanting to ancient Rome? Let Horace, Virgil, PropertiÂľs, Catullus, and Ovid answer. The history of France has shown her to be one of the least practical of all countries. Where is her poet that might rank with Virgil, or with Tennyson of our own time? Chaucer was the father of English poetry. But f:vom whom did he obtairi his grand ideas? whom did he imitate? Bocaccio, a citizen of Rome-that practical city . .Few English poetH have ever excelled Chaucer. It was not till he had gone to Rome, that his poetic genius became apparent. He returned to his native land and produced a poem that will live wherever and as long as the language it self remains in the recollection of men. Let us grant that this -is a practical age. But does history confirm us in the conclusion that the practical country or . practical age excludes the poet? Let us not believe that practice and progress are enemies to the Muses. ' Let men be engrossed in the arts and sciences, but why cannot man be poetic when art and science, together with nature; smile? There is poetry in improvement. There is music

'l,'he Decline of Poetry.

in the engineer's shrill whistle as well as in the humming of the gentle forester, music in the splashing · water-wheel as well as in the ba,bbling of th _e chrystal brook; more music to the patriotic heart in the anvil's measured stroke than in the din of raging battle. · It is said . that this age lacks the imaginative . • " 'l'h e lunatic. the lover. and the poet. Are of imagination all compact."

But are lunatics on the decrease? Alas, no. Are lovers decreasing? Ah, not yet. Then why shoulq. the poet, who is said to belong to the same category, be on the decline? The fact that this age fufoishes no man who has equalled Homer or Milton, does not prove that the day of poetry is pa ssing away. "Three poets in three distant ages born," wrote Dryden. True it was. The ages in which the three great poets wrote were distant-distant from each other. About eight centuries elapsed between the day of Homer , and the day of Virgil, and a much longer time between th e"day of Virgil and that' of Milton. Poetry, like trade, has had its cycles of rise and depression . . Great men live in groups or companies. Had we lived between the age of Virgil and that of Milton, we. might have thought poetry was undoubtedly dying, because the poems that were being written were so far inferior to the .£neid. But after a lapse of time there arose a man who "England did adorn," whose masterpiece is excelled neither by the .£neid nor the Iliad. But let us glance for a moment at a very few of our modern poets, and see whether they fall far below those who preceded them. Who does not admire and love to read Longfellow ? The poetic sweetness and tenderness of his Evangeline, the characteristic beauty of Hiawatha, and the grandly touching truth in his Psalm of Lif e, captivates the reader. How true to nature is Longfellow. Whether recording the whisperings of love, or battles lost or won, man's voyage on the sea of trouble, or that blessed haven where all is peace and love, he is equally grand. That Longfellow's works have been translated into foreign

Richmond College Messenger.

tongues, and · that the foreign youth read · them in the · schools, attests the high esteem in which they are held even in other lands. Bryant; one of the sweetest of our American poets, ranks with the bes~ writers of his mothertongue. H:is poems are greatly admired. How grandly does 110, when seated on his piazza one clear autumn evening, sing of the water-fowl, which he sees in .the twilight winging its way to warmer climes, and from which he draws the sweet lesson" He who from zone to zone, Guides thro' the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the way that I must take alone, Will guide my steps aright."

Tennyson, England's poet-laureate, ranks with · the best writers of English verse. The P1·incess, In Memoriam, Idyls of the King, Enoch Arden, will live with the language. · In the poem, Charge of the Li,qht Brigade, Tennyson has not only ' immortalized himself, but that" Noble Six Hundred" who rode '' e'en through ·shot and shell" into the "Valley of , Death." And what (,hall I say o( Poe, the sweetest, of them all? How grand is 1'he Raven, how it touches the very heart . See it, as it sits there, perched on the" Pallid bust of Pallas,'' with that one .word, "Nevermore"! The reader, perhaps, is reminded of many fond hopes which have perished or joyous hours which have passed, that shall return . " nevermore " in his experience, as Poe was reminded of that last one "whom tl+e angels call Lenore." As we think of the author of this grand poem, taken away by the immature · death caused by a dissipated life, how can we but deplore the 'folly of neglected opportunities? I l1ave mentioned only a few of our modern poets. But some say that the multitude of bad poets who fill some .of our modern newspapers and weeklies with worthless rhymings, as a strong argument for the degeneracy of poetry. ]'ew persons or things, we admit, are more pitiable than the second-rate poet. "I had rather be a kitten and cry mew, 'l'hau one or'these same ballad-mongers; I had rather hear a canestick turned, Or a dry wheel grate on 'its ax!e ,tree."

Distance Lends .bnclwntment.

It is true, a mean poem may make one feel uncomfortable; it is true, it may be "like the forced gait of a shuffling nag", yet this age is not alone able to boast of the mean poet. We know be was a great worry to. Horace, .if we may judge from some expressions in his satires. The age of Milton had its lesser lights. Those lesser lights! Who would not rather sit in darkness? Such poets have e xisted in an ages, and it can scarcely be said they are characteristic of this age. No, this age will not see the death of poetry nor its decline. The youth who engages in childish sport at your side may b~come a Byron, or some blmihing maid a Sappho. He or she, too, may awake some morn and find himself or herself famous. Time only must ' tell. Poetry cannot die. When the soui1fails to beat responsive to the promptings of the right, the noble, and the good, then, and not till then, will its days be numbered. How many there are who walk the earth with melancholy step and slow, who murmur in their fogyism, "Times are not what they used to be ; those good old days will never return " ; and everything is going to ,destruction or to some place unknown, whence there is no returning. But let us not be among that number which believes that the world does not now contain ~wen a trace of the good and pure, and that the good old times are gone, and have carried poetry with them; let us not be among those who cry "Ichabod," "Ichabod,"-the glory has departed; but let us rather give our voices for progress, upward and onward, in everything that elevates man and makes him better than the brute. MA.LC.

DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT. How enchanting the pleasures of tp.e past seem ! The disagreeable features which invariably accompany the pleasant ones, have long since been forgotten, and imagination has filled with p-leasant ideals the blank made by their loss. When we look back to childhood's days of /

Richrnood College MesBenge;.

frolic, it is not the bruised limbs, wounded feelings, and disapi,ointed hopes of which we think; but it is the pleasures and triumphs of childhood, that form such a bright picture-so bright, indeed, sometimes, that we would fain turn back lo its joys again. But if we were to find some "fountain of youth," and become a child again, we would , discover that every joy was accompanied with sorrow and every triumph with failure. A poet, in describing a dream of the past, beautifully illustrated this idea when he said•• While memory stood sidewise half covered with tlowers, And restored each rose and secreted each thorn."

When we Iiear the roar of falls, the mind hardly catche s the sound .before jt flashes back to the cool spring that gurgles from the fern-clad earth. Fancy nurses upon the :history of the little spring as it becomes the mighty river· It whirls, it dashes, it throws itself into spray; it is the home of aquatic beings. Yet Fancy regards not th e slimy reptiles that glide with fiend -like motion through its waters, but feasts upon the silver-finned fish that sport in its sparkling ripples. The birds sing in the trees upon its banks, yet Fancy hears only the silver-throated thrush. Although the chirp of the robin is just as essential to nature's version of the scene as the song of the thrush, yet it is unknown to fancy. The popular ide·a of nature is not true nature, but Fancy's version of it, which brings into ·prominence only those features which please. lt may be said to be true . as far as it goes, but it does . not go far enough. Sir Walter Scott may be called a fair specimen of the so-called true painters of nature . It is said that he · would take down minute descriptions of a landscape in order to paint nature' in her true colors. Yet we are told afterwards, wlien he came , to revise tho se descriptio~s for publication, he would · strike out what he supposed to be defects in nature, and substitute that which w~s more in accordance with the rules of symmetry. Thus, being so accustomed to regard a fact in a different light .from tllat fo which all it s characteristics are developed, we naturally regard a fact the outlines of which have become faint by '

Di.~tanceLends Enchantment.

much m,age, with less precision, and are satisfied ~ith almost · any form Fancy may give it. And aR Fancy deals largely in pleasantries, those parts which it supplies, generally lend enchantment to the rest. Seated within our room, gazing into the glowing fire • upon the hearth, while the rn,antle of night shuts out the t ealti es of life, we hear the rain rattHng upon the roof and the wind howling without as if giving vent to some d emon's rage. Then we fancy we hear it moan through som e distant forest. So softly do the slender twigs and velvety leaves modulate the sound, it seems as the moan of the death angel summoning another spirit into eternity . .How much of our time is spent in contemplating our future! \vhat intense pleasure it gives us to picture a bright future, and strange it is how seldomI a disagreeable ftatnre in all our planning enters one of them, yet between us and the realization of the future lies distance. We often, with a sigh, exclaim, "Oh! that this were a faster age! " Though this be an age in which extension is disregarded, in which a inan in our own country converses with his fellow-man in our mother country regardless of the waves that lash themselves into foam bP,tween ; yet · would we crave that a man coine forth proclaiming himself lord of discoverers by' producing a medium by which a man of to-day can within a, few seconds become the ma11 . of the twentieth century, so that he migllt immediately realize his hopes of that period. Yet how many of us are realizing every day what from a distance looked so bright, but how different is the real pleasure, when distance no longer mantles it, from the ideal pleasures whose pains it so artistically conceals, yet causes its joys to stand out in bold relief. It H, well, perhaps, tha;t imagination plays such an important part in our plans for the future, for if many of us · could see our future in its true colors, life · would oe but a burden; but Fancy conceals the disagreeable, ·and brings out the pleasant of the fu .ture, so that, not until we reach that point which from ' a distance looked so bright, do we realize the flattering deception of distance. It has been said, "Memory :s geese are 3:lways swans." It 1

Richmond College Messenger.

might as truly be said, "Fancy's men are always heroes .11 So in looking forward to the future, it is not the failures of which we think, but the triumphs. We lift the veil of the future, and by the aid of imagination hear ourselves addressing a court; as we wa,rm into our subject we see the judge and jury bathed in tears; but imagination never waits to ascertain the cause of the tears, or for the jury to bring in the verdict. We picture -ourselves seated at the bedside of a patient, watching his life ebb way, but suddenly, by the administration of some stimulant, the patient revives, and bids fair to triumph over disease. Yet imagination never waits for the relapse. Fancy never spoils a bright picture by dwelling on it too long. Nor does distance deceive and enhance through memory and imagination alone, but through the eye and ear. The stars glittering from their dark background, mystify us by their mild light 1 while if we .were near them their intense brilliancy would blind and terrify . fs. Their disagreeable feature, the glare of their light 1 is devoured by space, and only their mild lustre reaches us. Standing near a mountA.in, we may be awed but never enchanted. There is nothing to enchant us. Here is a. shattered tree, whose deeayed trunk, if it could speak 1 would tell of .fierce conflicts among the elements of nature. It in reality speaks in Hs own language of decay, by the 1 monotonous hammer of the woodchuck upon its memberless trunk. There stands a shrub dwarfed by some gigantic rock whose bald head is here and there raised above the surface, rendering the scene more ghastly. The leaves of the shrub are drawn and eaten by insects, its branches ragged and worm eaten. In short, it seems but the battle-ground of the conflicting forces of nature. But how is it when we behold the same from a distance? A veil of blue is cast over the whole . . It is no longer divided into tree, shrub 1 and rock, but viewing it as one mass, we exclaim, in rapture, Mountain ! Mountain ! Beholding the valley from some lofty mountain, how picturesque it looks. It seems fresh from the liand of some master landscape-gardener and ready for the brush of a Wilson; but when we reach

Pumpkin Heads.

the ~alley we find that not one, but many have planned it. It is generally the case where, instead of one, manyplan,and all independent of each other, that the main object of the . plan is foiled; and while each style may be profitable, yet enchantment vanishes with distance. ' Music owes its magic charm, to some extent, to distance. When we are near its source, it is often harsh, especially that of instruments: This iR not always the case, but often there is discord .by the best of performers. The different parts seem to confuse us. But when the sweet strains come to us wafted by the evening zephyrs, while the shadows of night shut out its source, it does not seem to be restricted to any place ; all space seems to be pervaded by this mild soother of m~nkind. Need we wonder that the heart, which, amid the Âˇ roar of artillery a11d tl1e charge of cavalry, remains as firm as the bluff from which it views the carnage, melts beneath its benign influence? It is whispered from every shrub; even the flower lets, freshening up with the evenin!s" dew, echo its soothing strains. The distant coo of a dove, as it is borne to us by a gentle breeze enriched by the echoes of the wood, breathes of love and sadness. But when we find the bird, and discover that whether sad or joyful it sings the same sad notes, our deeper sentiment vanishes, and w.e realize what a difference there is between the ideal and the real, or the difference between those , objects over which distance throws her mantle of charity, and those which, having nothing to hide t.heir deformities, come forth in their real characters. H-F.

PUMPKIN

HEADS ..

A g~ntleman of our acquaintance has requested ui;, to write an article on "Pumpkin Heads." This seems to us to be a very poor subjqct on which to write an 3:rticle for a paper of such high standing as the Messenger,but at our friend's request we will attempt it. We feel like we can hardly do. justice to our subject, as it is one in which we

Richmond College Messenger.

are not very well versed, but if our frienil will come around and let us examine his head for awhile, we feel like we can then handle our subject a little better. In the first place, our subject divides itself into two heads --namely, pumpkins and heads. If our friend (or any one else interested in this . subject) will consult Webster or Worcester, he will find sa.tisfaetory definitions to each of these words. However, lest these definitions may not be clear to some, we will make up a few of our own. A pumpkin is the fruit of a vine whose leaves are about as large as grape vines. Pumpkins have seeds in them which are called pumpkin seeds. There are green pumpkins and ripe pumpkins. The difference between them is that green pumpkins are not ripe, while ripe pumpkins are not green. Pumpkins are supposed to have neither reasoning powers, intellect, nor knowledge of right , and wrong. This supposition may be, and in fact is, either right or wrong. •but we will not express our opinion at present. Having given these few distinguishing peculiarities of pumpkins, we will now proceed to give equally as few or equally as many of heads. A head is an object or a division of a discourse which · either has brains or has them not. This definition may at first appear to be a little too general, so we will, after a few side remarks, proceed to restrict it further. One remarkable connection between the beads of a discourt'le a.nd the head of its writer may be noticed-namely, if one contains :p.o brains you wHl almost invariably find that the dther is in the same fix. Examples of this relation may be seen in the writings and physical structure of our friend as well as · in our own writings and physical structure. All men and animals, which have not been decapitated, p'ossess one h~ad apiece, unless by a singular freak of nature they have been endowed with two or more. All these heads possess brains in various quantities and quality. Th:i,.svariation of quantity and quality is more perceptible in men than in animals. The force of this remark will become apparent when we compare the vast amount of brains of superior quality contained in our

Pumpkin

Heads.

friend's head with the paltry, insignificant contents of our own. Another class of heade-one, however, with which we are not immediately ci::mcerned,-is that comprising heads of cabbage, of bens, of streams, of dinner-tables, of conspiracies, of discourses, &c. These lleads:-except, possibly, those of conspiracies, - are almost universally regarded as brainless: We are inclined to concur in this belief. Having thus Âˇ briefly noticed these two divisions of our subject separately and in detail, we will wind up by noticing them very briefly tout ensemble. The two words" pumpkin heads," when taken together, acquire a slightly modified nieaning. A pumpk~n head is not a head whose sole and total ingredient is pumpkin, as, for example, a head of cabbage, whose sole and total ingredient is cabbage; but it is, generally speaking, a Imman bea,d which, from comparison to a pumpkin, has come to be called a pumpkin head. A pumpkin somewhat resembles the human head in shape and size-more, at least, tha,n a wheelbarrow or a gimlet does. In addition to this, the pumpkin is, in this expression, symbolical of what is stupid or senseless. Moreover, the impression prevails that a pumpkin is brainless, and consequently the expres sion is applied to a head which is brainless, or nearly so- . one in which no ideas originate and . from the voids of which no thoughts proceed which are calculated to astonish the world with their wisdom. The expression, therefore, is almost synonymous with "blockhead" -an expression whose origin is somewhat similar to that of the expression in question. For examples of pumpkin heads, we refer you to our friend and ourself. Note.-We have suppressed our friend's name because he, being an imaginative, imaginable, and imaginary person, ;might imagine himself insulted by this article and call us to account for it . . Our friend being imaginary, as we have said, it would be presumption on the part of any one to consider this as a reflection upon himself, and therefore if any one takes offence at it, it will indicate that he considers these remarks appropriate to himself. Q. E. D.

Richmond

College .Messenger.

At a meeting of Beta Chapter of Phi Alpha Chi Fraternity, the following resolutions were read and unanimously adopted: Whereas it has plcaseu Almighty God, in his wise provitlence, to take from our milbt our highly-e~teemed anu much-beloved brother, E. D· REAMS; therefore, be it Re,ol'Ved. l. That we have lost in his death a zeitlous brother, one who was always kii1d and brotheny towar<.Js us all, and an ear:1est Christian. 2 . . That we bow submissively to the will of our heavenly Father in our affliction . and thank Him thllt He has seen tit to prep.ire om· brother to. meet death before taking him away. ::!. That the members of Beta Chapter wear monruicg for thirty days in tokei1 of their grief. 4 '!'hat we extend to his parents, 1elatives, and friends our heartfelt sympathy in their aJ-tliction. 5. That a copy of these resolutions be sent to his family. 6. That tht>se resolutions be published in the Richmond College Mess~nver,and be put upon the minutes of our Chapter. W. J. H. BOHANNAN, W. C, ROBI:\'SON, F. L.A. WILSON, Committee. PHILOLOGIAN

HALL,}

. May 9, 1884. Whereas it has pleased an omniscient God to remove from earth our beloved companion a.nd colaborer E. D. REAMS; tlwrcfore, be it Resolv_ed. l. That in his death the Philologian Socic;y has.lost a zealous member. one who ever had the interest of his Society at heart, and who by • his u11tiri11g ene1·zy reflected honor not oniy upon himself, but also upon his Society. 2. That Richmond College has lost a faithful student, one who was bril1ia11t,and gave promise of bearin;{ away some of its highest honors. 3. That ,while we are sorely grieved at. l1is death, yet we would bow in humble submisgio11 to Him who directeth all things, and rejoice in the hope that our brother has left us to join the celestial chorus. 4. That we extend our deeµest sympathy to the family and friends of our brother. 5. That tliese 1:esolutions be printed in the Richmond College Messenger, also that they be recorded in the minutes ot our Society, and a copy sent to the bereaved family. · ' R. C. HUBBARD,

W. B. HAISLIP, J. W. MI'rCHELL, · Committee.

Editorial Department. RICHMOND COLLEGE,\

May 8, 1884. J Whereas it has pleased Almighty God in his infinite wisdom to .remove from earth onr beloved brother and fellow-stndent E. D. REAMS; therefore, be it

Resolved, 1. 'l.'hat in his dt>itth, we, the students of Richmond College, realize the lo~s of a friend who was ever kind and faithful to those around him. 2. That inasmuch as we believe that he was a devout Christian man, we 1fe.,Jassured that his $pirit is now resting in peace with Gotl who gave it and

with Christ who redeemed it, free from the trials and temptations ful wol'lcl,

of a sin-

-3. '!.'hat we extend Ol\1'deepest sympathy to the fau1ily of our brother i11 their sore bereavement-. 4. '.rhat in this dispensation of God's providence we recognize Him as the one who or<le1Âˇeth all tl,ings for the best.

R. C. HUBBARD, J. L. KING, W. B. HAISLIP, Committee.

EDITORIAL DEP ARTMEN1'.

It is with many misgivings

that we N step into the shoes" of our predecessors, and as we have never borne Âˇ . such weighty honors before, we beg our readers not to look with too critical an eye upon our defects. Just here the present corps beg leave to offer a vote of thanks to the dfsinfecting and repairing committee, appointed by the forme'r corps, for the noble and thorough :manner in which they have discharged their work, thereby :saving the preseht staff great labor and expense. Notwithstanding what the retiring corps may say about its being the fault of the printers that the Messenger is so behindhand this session, we, who have just stepped behind tlle curtain, know that these gentlemen let Time give them the slip while they were at work upon the abovementioned shoe'8,but we are ready ,to forgive these gentlemen, since they greatly increased the walking capacity of I

Richmond I

College Messen.c;er.

the shoes~and we are thereby in hopes of overtaking "Old ge:ntlmnan"before next fall.

the

The tenth biblical lecture of the course was delivered by Rev. Peyton Hoge; of Richmond, and was, we hear, a very interesting one; but, much to our regret, we were not present, as we did not see the notice in time. So the readers of the Mess<mgmÂˇwill have to forego the pleasure Âˇ of reading a sketch of the lecture.

On Tuesday evening, May 15th, the public contest for the " Steel" medal took place. About eighteen or twenty contestants entered the arena and read their best, but only five were fortunate enough to return for a second trial, and of these :five, the faculty adjudged Mr. E. B. Pollard, of Richmond, the best. The contest took place in the chapel of the college, and not in one of the sdciety Iialls, as has heretofore been the custom ; because tl1e society halls were undergoing repairs, and not in a condition to receive visitors. The chapel being not very full, a,lthough a good many visitors (among whcfm were many of the fair sex) were present, the readers were somewhat annoyed by the reverberation. The "Grand Stand',-i. e.,tlie college tower-is alternately deserted and crowded with the lovers of base-ball, as they collect to witness the games in the Virginias' park. They may be seen perched upon the cornice, or gazing from the windows and "bulls' eyes" of this elevation. (Be it known to all unacquainted with our "Grand Stand" that the " bulls' eyes" are the s-mall, round windows in the top of the tower.) Some of the more ardent, who pos sessed a firm footing and a steady head, even ventured, at the risk of life and limb, to crawl out through a window

Editorial Depa1'tment.

in the fourth floor of the tower and up the -Mansard roof to the top of the college, and thus get a better view of the game. Many possessed the former qualification to perfection; as to the latter-well, we are not the fighting editor so often alluded to in these pages, so will say nothing about the subject. But the enjoyment of these daring souls was of short duration, for whenÂˇ the chairman of the Faculty . ihei:t,rdof these proceedings he placed his veto .upon them, as climbing up the roof loosened the slate. He further issued a,n edict that whoever shoulct go out U:pon the roof again ; or should remove a " bull's eye," should forfeit the whole of his continisent deposit. What attracted his attention to the matter, was the breaking of one of the abovementioned " bull'fl eyes" b)- some unfortunate unknown. '

Varied are the amusements of the ::>tudents of Richmond College this spring. Âˇ Besides the old stand-bys, ball and croquet, there is the view of the championship games from the "Grand Standn for those who have the spring fever; lawn-tennis for those who haven't the fever yet, but are t.hreatened with it; and lastly, there is the gymnasium for the athlete ; but this last-nam8d place has looked very empty since the beginning of the wa.:rm weather ; Those who indulge in the amusement of lawn-tennis, have staked their net in the extreme southwest corner of the campus, where they are protected from the heat of the evening sun by the large shade-trees in that quarter, but not from the.flies batted by the lovers of the old stand-by, ball.

Since the Âˇ " jollification" will take place on the night of the day appointed for the final examination in Senior Philosophy, and as several members of t~at class have important parts in the performaJ).ce that night; and furthermore, since the Professor of Philosophy generally "puts up" examinations of such a nature that whoever gets out by supper-time may consider himself fortunate; a meet-

Richmond College MessengeiÂˇ.

fog of the stud r.mts was C!llled to decide whether to have this amusing entertainment or not. After much debatingr it was decided to appoint a committee of five to wait ui,on the Professor and endeavor ta persuade him to change the date of his examination. We have not.heard the result of the efforts of this committee; so cannot say if we may expect to Lave any fun this commencement. The visitors of the museum will no longer disturb Miss Mummy's slumbers by the nois _e of their foot-falls upon the bare floor; for it is being covered with a pretty oilcloth. The Mu Sigma Rho and Philologian society halls have been much improved under the hand of the plasterer and painter since the societies adjourned for the session, only the cornices look rather too much like a rainbow, if we may be allowed to express our humble opinion. We also understand that some pretty pictures have been purchased to decorate the walls,

â€˘ Make haste, boys, and, read your fill, far the library closes on the 12th of June.

__. _ .,.

__,,,__,

Locals.

LOCALS. Say! Come out and let me pitch you a curve. Did you see that in-shoot ? No: That ball didn't deviate from the path of rectitude one inch. · Prof.: "Mr. J., who was the greatest of the Roman philosophers? " Mr. J.: "Socrates? No; I believe he was an ethiopian." The following conversation took place, not long •since, between two students from the country, which clearly elucidates a very interesting, and hitherto a very obscure, point in natural history; only one is in doubt as to which • of these great men to follow. But to the point: The question was brougheup, in th~ presence of Mr; L., Sr., concerning the nature of the animal corn-beef. This gentleman was of the opinion that it was "beef cooked , with turnips." '" Mr. R. here spoke up and said that he believed no such doctrine as that, and for his part 1 he was thoroughly convinced that it was "beef fed on corn." Now, which of these noted gentlemen are we to believe ? Who can tell ? · · Prof. (addressing himself to the class): "Do any of you remember the year of Washington's birth?" Mr. K. (to his next neighbor): "The 4th of .February." What pity it is he did not speak louder: he might have gotten a V.

One evening this spring, Messrs. L and B. were indul-

Richmond

College Messenger.

ging in a stroll down the railroad track. L. was whistling, when suddenly B. cried" Stop! stop ! Don't whistle ! " "What is the matter?" demanded L. "Don't you see that sign?" replied B., pointing to the notice, "Do not whistle below this point". "Well, what has that got to do with my whistling? " asked L. "Oh," said B., Âˇ' I reckon whistling affects the telegraph wires." And they walked on.

1.'he other day, there was seen on the door of Mr. L., Jr., a notice heaned with the word Jcntlemen. I told that this gentleman is in favor of phonetic spelling .

About eight months ago a "rat" walkeil into Pizzini's. After looking around for several minutes, he Âˇsnmmed up courage enough to approach the counter and ask, "Do you keep candy here?" But he knows better now.

Three Senior Math. men were guessing what kind of questions would be askea thein on their "oral." " Oh,'' said the first, " he will ask how Il)any yards are in a mile, or something of a simila1Âˇ nature." " Well," said the second, " if he were to ask how many . leagues are in a furlong, I don't believe you c~rnld tell llim.

"I could," broke in the third, "there are two and twothirds, of co.1irse.11 Is that the way they count up there, ]!-..? I have alwayi:9 heard that the facts of Senior Math. are a little difficult to understand.

Locals.

Prof. : " Mr. 0., do you know anything about Tarsus?". "Mr. 0.: "It is the place where Jonah took ship when he ran away/' Mr. J. says when he first came to college he heard the boys talking about math., and he says he was very much puzzled to know what it was; thought it was a primary course in theology. Mr. J. was also right much bothered to know what to do with the two envelopes that came with the final tickets. He is said to have tried to put one side of the ticket in one envelope and the other in the other, and then wanted to know if he must leave the envelopes open.

Mr. B."expressed his admiration of Mr. S.'s mental powers in the following words: " I'll bet on S. every tirue, for he never forgets what he remembers.".

RAT.-The rat is a very interesting animal. There are two kinds 0£ rats , the first runs on all hiR feet, but the second only runs on two whe,n he runs at all. The first is of a mouse color ; the second, on the other hand, is generally green. The one likes bacon and cheese, and may be caught by baiting a trap with one of these s.rticles; the other likes calico, and is generally caught, 'too, but never having had any exper~ence in that kind of trapping, we are unable to give a receipt. • The first alwsys remains a rat, but the second not unfrequently changes into a '' dude." · Thus we see that there is great similarity between these two species of rats. THE

The other day, in chemistry, Mr. H. described a certain gas thus : " It is," he said, " coluble, soluble, invisible, anc!can't be seen." ·

Richmond

College J1essenger.

PERSONALS. Rev. Mr. Hanks, an old stud ent of this college, now pastor of a Baptist churcl1 in Dallas, 'fexas, p:1id his respects to his alma mater on his way homeward from convention. We were glad to welcome him back. Two of the Richhlond churches hi,tely enjoyed the pleasure each of hearing a good sermon from one of our old students, Rev. C. S. Gardner, a student this session at the Seminary. \Ve heard very fine reports of him. Waverly Snead, 1882-3, is farming in Fluvanna. At his present speed, we expect him soon to make a fortune and buy out the county. Âˇ Nottoway still clings to the glory of being the home of our illustrious" Solomon," W. H. Foster, of 1881-2. "Jeff" Settle walked in upon the students on the 10th instant, which fact added greatly to their surprise and joy. It seems that every student, as soon as he leaves col â€˘ lege, feel s it his duty to hide tLe lower extremity of his face in the usual fashion, and tl1en report back to college. We congratulate the abo~e gentleman. W. J. E. Cox and W. G. Hix, former students, reported promptly at college, on their return fr@m the Seminary, clad in big dykes and with joyful countenances. College is expecting big things of them. The former expects to I be ordained next Sunday (June 15tl1).

A. Mclver house, S. C. sion.

Bostick is at his l10me, at Barnwell Court We hear that he expects to return next ses-

Exchan,qcs.

EXCHANGES. Yes, they tell us we are "Exchange Editor,'' whereupon we respectfully and hurriedly pull off om; coat, roll up our _ sleeves, lay aside our beaver and cane, take down the gun, rake out the carving knife, slam the door, land in the big chair, sling our feet over the railing, light our cigar, twist our mustache, look furious, and turn our savage attention to the pile before us. So no_w be careful. We certainly can see nothing disagreeable to say alJout the Chimes. Its matter is very instructive and varied. The Ai·iel, of the University of Minnesota, is a very substantial and well-printed paper. It is one of the handsomest of our exchanges. The Signet opens with an article on "The Church and Education," in wl1ich it sets forth that the Church is not created for the sole aim of giving the gospel to every creature, but that it must be ready for every good word and work, and that one of its labors should be to spread and promote education, etc. We appreciate the general idea the writer had in view. We agree that education is one of the duties of mankind , but we think he puts it a little too strong when he lays this down as the duty of the Ch1:1rch. It may be proper for individuals to do all in their power to promote education, but we hardly think that it comes within the sphere of l the Church as a Christian body to 'rttke steps in that direction. Men are morally and l10norably bound to do things which the Church should not do. But _we do not wish to find fault ; we only think the writer presses his point a little too far. The King's CollegeRecoi·d contains a very striking and important editorial on the danger of hurrying through with education ; that we should not seek a mere smattering, general knowledge, but should select certain subjects and master them. · We heartily endorse its sentiments. We looked in vain for some " Locals." As we pick up the Wilmington Collegian, we are bewildered at its flaming advertisementsb but we soon find oursfllves

Richrnond College M es~enger.

in th _e midst of some very profitable reading, particularly the article on the "University Tendency in Education." Here comes the Cla1路ion, and surely an admirable paper it i:5. It contains twenty-three pages alone devoted to spicy and interesting articles. The " Extracts from Diary of a Girl " are curious speciinem1, and them's the kind we like . We gratefully acknowledge the receipt of the first edition of the new paper edited by the young ladies of Gordonsville College, Va. We greet it upon the threshold of its career, and tender our best wishes for its long and continued prosperity. May .she l1ave a triumphant voyage. Well, now, what information l1as the Earlharnit e to impart? Its opening article, on "The Relation of Intellectual Culture to Christian Religion," certainly betrays careful thought and varied information. The paper deal:i profu sely in " Locals" and " Personals," but it~ columns do not allow themselves to be annoyed by the insignificant 路matter of trifling with "Exchanges." The opening article of the Fisk Hel'ald, entitled " Our Boasted Civilization," reminds us of a sky-rocket. Tt started o'lr with a boom and grandeur that aiknost made us dizzy. We were dazzled and charmed; but suddenly its glory began to vanish, and before we knew it, we were wandering about in the technical~ties of the "Cincinnati Riot." Such sudden excursions are dangerous and disappointing . Its articles on "Intemperance," and ii College and Professional Courses of Study," are very good, and, with the exception of that sad and eventful trip, we en .. joyed exceedingly reading the paper. ll', W , FOSTER,

C , 0 , CAMPBELL ,

路Artist and late M'g'r Davis' Art' Gal'ry.

B. 8 . C AMPBELL,

Artistic Photog'r . Ohief Op'r, late Davis' Art Gal'ry,

FOSTER. CAMPBELL & CO., AR'rISTIC

PHOTOGRAPHERS,

525 E. BROADSTREET,

RICHMOND, VA.

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