THE ELON C0LLE(;E EEKLY.
THE ELON COLLEGE WEEKLY
Published every Wednesday dnriug the
College year by
The Weekly Publishing Company.
W. P. Lawrence, Editor.
E. T. Hines, R. A. Campbell, Affie Grif&n,
Associate Editors.
W. C. Wicker, ('irculation Manager.
T. C. Amick, Business Manager.
CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT.
Cash Subsoriptions (-10 weeks), 50 Cents.
Time Subscriptions (40 weeks), 75 cents.
All matter pertaining to subscriptions
should be addressed to W. C. icker,
Elon College, N.C.
IMPORTANT.
The office of publication is Greens
boro, N. The officce of the Editor
is Elon College, N. C., where all com
munications relative to the Weekly
should be sent.
Entered at the postoffice at Greensboro,
N. C., under application for admission as
second-class matter.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1910.
There are some students who honestly,
in a cannot-help-it sort of way, chafe .un
der the restraints of college life. For
such spirits, the divine declaration that
the Great Ruler would have obedience
and not sacritice, is a profitable subject
for serious contemplation. The feeling
that obedience to government, regulations
gi(»ver!iing a student body, to be more spe-
I'iflt, permanently lessens one’s independ-
(y^JHI^often erroneously and unwisely
ttiilertainei'i. "Ilie reason ior lue DeVi: i
that such a spirit is often unwisely
entertained, made a welcome guest in the
home of the student’s thoughts, is that,
frequently, violations of college regula
tions bring such a train of troubles as the
violator had not even imagined. But a
hopeful indication in such cases is the
penitence of the offender. The chief char
acteristic of Satan, as represented by Mil
ton in “Paradise Lost,” in his unremit
ting stubbornness to the idea of penitence
or acknowledgment of wrong on bis part
in raising an insurrection in heaven.
Again, Shakespare represents King Clau
dius in “Hamlet” as unable to pray even,
so long as he was under the dominion of
sin. Whoever has committed a sin, there
fore, and finds no inclination in himself to
be penitent is most likely in the king
dom of sin and is to be pitied, for such
a one is far from the happy fields where
joy forever dwells.
There is a further consideration in con
nection with this matter of obedience to
authority: the most innocent looking reg
ulations when complied with, are a veri
table sleeping lion, we find to our sorrow,
when stroked the wrong way. The raae
and fury of one of these innocent regula
tions when disturbed not infrequently rai
ses such a storm of bewildering regret
and sorrow in the offender’s mind as to
remind one of the "sudden terror of a
squall that frequently breaks in upon a
calm, placid sea.
Finally, it should not be borgotten that
the ability to obey, especially under pro
vocation, or under a trying temptation, is
a convincing argument that one has pret
ty well mastered one’s own spirit, with
out which mastery one is not qualified
for "rulership, and to be qualified to rule
is as necessai'y in a college-bred man as
is the ability to think, for college men
rule, in the thought world at least. So,
obedience to college regulations, especial
ly when it is sweet to disobey, is as much
an 'opportunity for a student to learn to
control that complex, mysterious, hard-to
manage inner impulse, which we call one’s
spirit, as the most exacting studies are
opportunities for learning mind masteiy.
JULIA WARD HOWE, 1819-1910.
Last week’s papers brought the news
of the death of one of America’s most no
fed and most gifted women, Mrs. Julia
Ward Howe. She was in her ninety-sec
ond year, having been born in New York
May 27, 1819. She was the daughter of
a banker and wa.s given an excellent pri
vate education, being versed in German,
French. Italian, Greek and Latin litera
ture and a master of these languages. She
read also the philosophy of Kant, Spino
za and Compt. In 1843 she married
Dr. Samuel G. Howe of Boston where she
resided thereafter. With her husband,
she took an active part in the anti-slavery
movement aiding him, 1851-53, in editing
an anti-slavery newspaper, the Common
wealth. Among iier friends were the most
noted American authors of her day, Long
fellow, Holmes, Lowell, Phillips, and Ag
assiz being among them. She spent mirch
time in Europe where she moved in a like
circle of intellect and influence. Charles
Dickens, Carlyle, Henry Hallam, and Flo
rence Nightinaale were among her friends
in England.
Her husband whom she married when
she was twenty-four was eighteen years
lipi* «pnior -'-t •aJL’.t
was left a widow. The remaining thirty-
four years of her life were spent in writ
ing, lecturing, and preaching. She occa
sionally preached from a Uuifarian pul
pit.
Mrs. Howe was an ardent, aggressive
advocate of woman’s lights, especially the
riaht to vote, and of prison reform. She
wrote essays, dramas and lyric poetry,
most of which died however, before its
author. Her Bincipal writings are:
(poems) “Passion Flowers,” 1854;
“Words for the Hour,” 1857; and “La
ter Lyrics,” 1866; (dramas) “The
World’s Own,” 1855; and “Hippolytus,”
1858; (prose) “A Trip to Cuba,” I860;
“From the Oak to the Olive,” 1868; “Sex
and Education,” 1874; “Modern Socie
ty,” 1881; “Life of Margaret Fuller,”
1883; “Memoir of S. G. Howe,” 1877 (?) ;
and “Is Polite Society Polite?”
Mrs. Howe lived a life rather than wrote
books. Her fame as an author rests on
a single poem written in 1861 upon the
mobilizing of Union troops in the Nation
al Capitol. It is a sort of a folk-song
uttering the feeling of millions who want
ed to see the Union stay and slavery go.
It is as follows;
Battle Hymn of the Republic.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the com-
iirg of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where
the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the faithful lightning of
his terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
I have seen him in the watch-fires of a
hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the
evening dews and damps;
I can read his righfeorrs sentence by the
dim and flickering lamps.
His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel, writ in bur-
rrished rows of steel; .
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with
you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero,'boitr of woman, crush the
serpent with his heel.
Since God is marching on.”
He has sounded forth the trimrpet that
shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men be
fore the judgment seat;
Oh be swift my soul to answer! be jubi
lant my feet;
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born
across the sea.
With a glory in his bosom that transfigur
es you and me;
As he died to make merr holy, let us die
to make them free
While God is marchirrg on.
THE WINNING OF WINONA.
CHAPTER IV.
The village was again afire with an
awe-inspiring excitement. They knew too
well the meaning of the final picture up
on the piece of bark. He had escaped, or
had the fierce mountain lions devoured
him? No one knew, and there was no
visible means of finding out. Time alone
could tell.
The council met and the village gath
ered in assembly, about the governmental
wigwam, once more. But nothing could
bp done further than to reread and re
count the stoi-y told upon the piece of
ba'tk.
The Ions' hot .lulv dsy was gradually
movirrg toward its close. Already the
sky had doffed its dress of dainty blue,
and donned a suit of ruddy hue. Finally
the sun passed lower and then passed fron.
view, and the sky which a little while
ago had been red assumed a hue almost
like that of the skin of the tribe over
which it seemed to hang.
A cricket had left his day-time haunt
and was tiding a bit of song, to cheer his
evening hours. In the distance could be
heard the melancholy inquiry of an owl,
“Who, who?” and in the adjacent under
brush an old timber-wolf had set up a
suppliant howl.
To arr observer it was a very remarka
ble evening, but to the savage it was not
so very different from the others.
As the darkness began to thicken about
the wigwams, the old dog wlhich had
brouaht the message frrtm Occonough, be
gan to grow petulant, and lonely. He
had been given a goodly share of food
during the day, and had spent the greater
part of the time quietly dozing in the
shade of the neighboring trees. But as
the evening scenes approached he longed
aaain for the companionship of his mas
ter.
Just then a squaw came by and tossed
to him a piece of fresh venison; the old
dog seized it eagerly, wagged his tail
thankfrrlly, turned his nose toward the
light which was gradually fading in the
western sky, and slowly trotted away
still holding firmly between his teeth the
piece of venison. W’'here he meant to
carry it, no one knew. But “Crow Foot”
imagined that he intended to return to
his master. And impelled by this belief.
October 26, 1910.
he summoned hastily a band of twenty-
five of his braves and pushed out in the
direction indicated by the old dog. Ex
cept for the occasional breaking of a
stick which happened to be iit the way,
their advance was almost noiseless. Cau
tiously yet stealthily this little band went
further and further into the depths of
the forest, with ears and eyes ever aleut
for any impending danger. The night
was almost spertf, and they had gone
steadily on, following whithersoever the
old dog might lead them. The light of
the new day crept in apparently just as
reluctantly as the light of yesterday had
yielded to the shadows of the lirrgering
darkness. The stars and the silvery moon,
whose noiseless music had lulled to sleep
* a multitude of heavy eyes the night be
fore, blinked a little, just as we do some
times when we come from darkness into
light, and bade the sleej)e.r “Aufweider-
sen. ’ ’
Suddenly the ears of the savages caught
sornid of something ^hich startled them.
—something weird and gjruesome. Just
then they passed round a little bouldei
and into the mouth of a narrow ravine.
The suir had kissed away the shadows of
night, and it was day again. The old dog
quickened his pace now, and there seemed
to be a new gleam iir his eye. Then he
suddenly assrrmed an attitude of indig
nant anger. G-r-r-r-! G-r-r-r-! It was
the most neive-racking noise to which I
have ever listened. A few steps further
and the little band of twenty-flve were in
full view of two fierce-looking mountain
lions, at the foot of a much-scarred tree,
and high above them among the branches
■.. MVijg ttiVcl, wan 'aTi«V
haggard, due to the l>orrible fatigue re
sulting from three awful days in the
tree. In his hands he held a sharpened
.stick which I guessed that he had used
to keep the lions from reaching and de-
\ ouring him.
A hasty flight of the lions ensued and
the happy savages rushed up and assisted
the much-exharrsfed chief in descending
to the ground. As he set his exhausted
limbs once more upon the ground the old
dog came up and placed the piece of ven
ison, which the squaw had given him, at
his master’s feet, and wagged his tail to
show his happiness.
The braves supplied the chief with
fresh food and water, then he was able to
talk a little. He had seen Winona and
knew where she was now.
(To be continued.)
It’s Good Work That Counts.
See if the
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