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The Elon College Weekly.
THE ELON G0LLE6E WEEKLY
Published every Tuesday during the College
The Weekly Publishing Company.
W. P. LAWRENCE. - - Editor.
J. W. BARNEY. )
A. C. HALL. \ Associate Editors.
W. C. WICKER. - Circulation Manager.
T. C. AMICK. - - Business Manager.
Cash Subscriptions (40 Weeks) 50 Cents.
Time Subscriptions 40 Weeks) 75 Cents.
All matters pertaining to subscriptions should
be addressed to W. C. Wicker, Elon College, E. C.
The office of publication is Burlington, N. C.
The offices of the Publishing Company and of
the Editors, Circulation Manager and Business
Manager are at Elon College, N. C , where all
communications relative to the Weekly should
TUESDAY. MARCH I, 1910
We want some aspiring athlete to
catch that groundhog who saw his shadow
early in February, and dispose of him in
such manner that there will be no more
groundhog. Then newspaper editors
will be allowed to turn forever away from
this vexing question about which nobody
thinks seriously, but about which every
body wonders, m his silent, meditative
moments, whether there is not something
in it after all. We do not believe in
groundhogs, neither do we believe in
ghosts, but we do not feel exactly normal
in passing, alone at night, a lonely coun
try grave yard where things are reported
to have been seen. Thomas DeOyincey
said that that weird scene, the knocking
at the gate, in Macbeth, always harrowed
his soul when he saw the play acted or
when he read it. His judgment told him
that there was no connection between
the mutder of Duncan and that mysteri
ous knocking at the palace gate that im
mediately succeeds, yet his feelings said
there was. Thomas Hardy, Henry
James, William Dean Howells and the
other realistic novelists may satisfy my
judgment as to there being no world ex
cept the world as it appears, yet my feel
ings say that there is a romantic world all
about us. I see evidences of it in a child’s
fear of the dark room, in the adult’s fear
of the dark shadow of death, in the man
ifold superstitions, and superstition itself is
but a visible term; the realities of one
generation are the superstitions of another.
The rabbit’s foot in the negro’s pocket is
a real protection against evil while it has
no saving virtue at all in my pocket.
A course of advanced composition in
English is revealing some latent possibili
ties in the upper classmen. The story,
Hugh Baxter, appearing in this issue, was
read in class, as were a number of others,
some of which will appear later in The
Weekly, as a class exercise in romantic
story writing. The story is not worse
than some of those short stories we find
in high-class magazines. The burying of
the wrong man in Leeburg is perhaps an
unconscious adaptation of the old Fablio,
a kind of story in which human beings
got exchanged in infancy by the magical
aid of Gypsies or their kind. Such sto
ries are the purest romance. They, like
the epic, enforce no moral—and do not
intend to ; they simply tell a story in which
some mystery long holds sway and is
cleared up happily in the end.
The alumni scholarship endowment, an
account of which is given in another part
of this paper, has been so favorably
started off by the issuing of only a single
circular letter, that other alumni should
go over the matter seriously and decide
how much they are willing to put into
this fund between now and June 1st,
1914. We are reliably informed that
a response of nearly $400 was the result
of the circular letters sent out last June.
Why not help, fellow alumnus, to round
up $ 1,000 by June, 1910.
Are you a college grumbler? Did
you hear that that other member of the
college who heard you grumble about the
board, about the lack of equipment, about
the injustice in your grades, about the
discord and lack of college spirit, said
that you must be getting better things
than you had been accustomed to at
home > If a man reaps according lorn?
sowing, what sort of harvest will the col
lege grumbler reap ?
College songs and college yells are,
seemingly, as mush a necessity in gener
ating college spirit as is the drum corps in
giving nerve and spirit to an army when
marching to battle. Elon could profit by
the advent of a college song leader. He
may already be here, and just needs to be
discovered. Suppose that some one of
you who sings, cast about and see wheth
er or not there is in you such leadership.
The Swannanoa Club.
One day last week we found our way
to the literary and social room of the
Swannanoa Club in Burlington, through
the kindness of Mr. Elmer P. Williams,
an old Elon student, who is an accountant
for the Burlington Hardware Company
and secretary of the club. Mr. E. S. W.
Dameron, an alumnus of the University
of North Carolina, and an attorney in
Burlington, is president, and Mr. Jno. M.
Cook, an alumnus of Elon College and of
the State University School of Law, is
The club is only a few months old but
already has a large membership of excel
lent young men. It is educational and
social in its purpose. It has a large,
handsomely furnished reading room in
which are some of the best current peri-
odicab, a splendid collection of standard
literature in fiction, history and poetry.
Then there is a large gymnasium, a press
ing department where members get suits
cleaned and pressed without extra cost,
and lastly well equipped cold and hot tub
and shower baths, and toilets.
Such an organization is of inestin»able
value to the town and to the lives of its
members. Its work will help to create a
demand for a free public reading room
and library for Burlington. While that
progressive town is forging ahead under
high tension industrially, it is not too soon
for it to begin the agitation of a public
library and reading room.
W. P. Lawrence.
The train was due to leave Leeburg
at 10 : 43, and Alice Haskins and Hugh
Baxter arrived at the station just in time
for Hugh to get his baggage checked
and everything ready for his long trip
across the continent. They were stand
ing on the platform of the little station
when the shrill whistle of the approach
ing train warned them that their compan
ionship was soon to be broken.
Hugh was going West to make his
fortune to return in a few years to Alice,
who had promised to become his wife.
Alice bade him good-bye with a bright
smile, and as the train disappeared she
waved him a happy departure.
On this particular morning, Alice's
bright, beaming countenance wore a wist
ful look, although it could be detected
only by a close observer, for she chatted
gayly with those she met. Yet at times
one could notice a steady, longing gaze.
While she anticipated the great happiness
that would be theirs in a few years, there
crept in a bit of uneasiness for fear that
their plans would be interrupted.
.So the day passed on, the evening
Hiyl hringin^ her a messafip the last
could receive in two dajs. She went
about tier work as usual, often wonder ng
how and where Hugh was, and dream
ing of what happiness his return would
Early the next morning Alice went for
a walk, and on her way she met Clarence
Howard, who greeted her very cheerful
ly and remarked that he was surprised to
see her in such a happy mood since
Hugh had gone. On her return, she
came by the post office. The mail she
received consisted of several letters from
her friends and the morning paper. She
hastily opened her letters and read them
as she strolled home. On reaching the
porch she seated herself and glanced
over the paper. She read the news
items and then her eyes fell on the words
in bold type, "A Fearful Wreck Near
Springfield, Ohio; Many Ljves Lost"
Her heart stood still; she glanced ex
citedly down the column until she came
to the list of the killed and mortally
wounded. The second was none other
than that of Hugh Baxter, of Leeburg.
The words on the page ran together, and
she sat motionless for a moment; then a
sudden sickness came over her and she
fell prostrate on the floor. Her mother
did not know of her return, so it was the
first passer-by on the street who was first
to discover her. This passer-by, strange
to say, happened to be Clarence How
ard, who ran quickly up the walk and,
seeing her unconscious condition, called
her mother and procured the needed re
storatives. After a few moments she re
gained consciousness, and as her eyes
slowly and languidly opened it was into
Clarence’s that they stared, then closed
again. She was removed to her room,
which she did not leave for several weeks.
His body, as they supp .«ed it to be.
reached Leeburg on the early train next
morning and was buried in the little cem
etery as soon as the grave was ready.
After Alice’s recovery she went daily
to the grave of her betrothed and strewed
flowers over the hesh mound. She spent
many sad hours on this spot thinkjng of he r
Years came and went but Alice Has
kins remained unmarried in spite of Clar
ence Howard’s anxiety and frequent of
fers of marriage. She had promised and
would remain faithful to the last.
Alice often sat in her window and
watched the moonbeams that fell through
the trees and thought of Hugh, and
sometimes her thoughts would wander to
Clarence, so thoughtful of her now and
even before Hugh died. So brave, so
true, she could almost see the grave,
steadfast look in his eyes, so full of sym
pathy and affection—his broad shoulders
and his firmly yet kindly set chin. Did
she love him ? When she drifted thus
she would check herself Immediately and
put the thought far from her.
It was the thirtieth of May eight years
later—a delightful, balmy day, though a
hush pervaded the villege, and the voices
that otherwise might have been jubilant
had a note of solemnity in them. The
villege streets were filled with people
who had gathered to pay a tribute of re
spect to the dead. Among them was
Alice with the choicest flowers she could
obtain to place on Hugh’s grave. As
she approached the grave, her face pale,
her hands trembled as she tenderly ar
ranged the flowers; then she stood gaz
ing at the floral mound.
Just then a group of ladies approached
and read the inscription on the slab when
one exclaimed excitedly. That is my
husband’s name; he is not dead."
Alice heard the words and answered
nervously that there must be a mistake.
Then she told her story. The lady said
there could be no mistake for her hus
band, Hugh Baxter, had been severely
mangled in the same wreck.
It happened in this way. Hugh Bax
ter was severely wounded, his clothing
torn and scattered. His card case fell
near a body mangled beyond identifica
tion. Supposing that the address found
in the card case was his, the body was
sent to Leeburg, while Hugh Baxter was
sent to the address of a friend which he
had in his vest pocket. His illness drug
through many weeks. After his recovery
he learned that his supposed body had
been buried in his home villege. He re
solved not to return because he feared
Alice had become the wife of another.
He would not cause her unhappiness;
he would stay away and forget all.
Alice returned home from the ceme
tery as the sun was setting and seated
herself on the porch, where she sat ru
minating over the past. She glanced up
and saw Clarence coming up the walk.
As he came nearer their eyes met; she
faltered, then asked, " Have you heard ? "
He gathered her in his arms and said,
" Yes, dear. Will you be mine ? " Too
happy to speak, the two hearts beat as
one. Hubert Erric.
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