THE ELON COLLEGE WEEKLY.
THE ELON COLLEGE \\ EEkLV.
Published every Wednesday during the
College year by
The Weekly Publishing Company.
W. P. Lawrence, Editor.
E. T. Hines, R. A. Campbell, Affie Griffin,
Associate Editors.
W. C. Wicker, Circulation Manager.
T. C. Amick, Business Manager.
CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT.
Cash Subseiiptions (40 weeks), 50 Cents.
Time Subscriptions (40 weeks), 75 cents.
All matter pertaining to subscriptions
should be addressed to W. C. Wicker,
Elon College, N.C.
IMPORTANT.
The oflSee of publication is Greens
boro, N. C. 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, NOVEMBER 9, 1910.
COLLEGE SPIRIT vs. I-DON’T-CAEE
SPIRIT.
The exercise of college spirit shows it
self in the life of a student body, just as
much as the spirit of a just pride in
one’s reputation and good"' name shows
itself in one’s conduct and personal ap
pearance. After all it is the spirit in
one that gives one worth in more ways
than one. Physical! ' a man is dead
when his spirit lea\es him, and if left
unburied in that eoiiduiou long he be
comes a menace to society, a veritable
stench. Now, if the same thing holds
true with reference to the spirit in the
sense of college spirit, i. e., appreciation
of, love for, interest in the institution,
the member of the college who has no
college spiiit is really a body of death
that the live m'smbership of the institu
tion has to drag round with it, and for
the good of the colleg'e spirit among oth
ers such a body of death ought to be put
away, either buried or cremated, so to
speak.
How to increase college spirit is a
pertinent question, and one worthy of
■our sane and most deliberate considera
tion. We might illustrate the fact of
the importance of considering how to
improve college spirit by likening college
life to a large mercantile establishment.
In this establishment are many depart
ments and a number of ■employees in
each department. If a general feeling of
“ I-don’t-care ” runs through this large
establishment the effect of this spirit of
f-arelessness is evident everywhere; dis
order is eV'erywhere, articles of merchan-
■dise are out of place, dust and diit ac
cumulates, goods aie damaged by care
less handling until the general feeling is
that it is impossible to keep the store in
neat, s3'stematie order. It is a store
among other stoi'es as hard to run sys
tematically as Rip Van Winkle’s farm
was worthless and profitless as compared
with other farms. It is college spirit
that makes the student, first of all, have
respect for himself. It was not so much
respect for the United States Senate as
for himself that made the renowned or
ator, Daniel Webster, appear in his best
apparel when appearing before that body
a.^ a speaker. So likewise the respect
one has for his institution asserts itself
while he is a member of that institution,
in his genteel conduct and manly bearing
esteeming himself with a just pride be
cause of the fact that he is a member of
the institution. If a student comes to
discount the value of his college, let him
remember that many a thought-to-be
worthless farm has been made to astonish
the neighborhood with its wealth-yield
ing crops when in the hands of a farmer
who justly appreciated his vocation and
the possibilities of the “worthless land.”
Many a so-called worthless mercantile
stand has proven abundant in opportu
nities for profitable trade in the hands
of a merrhant who takes just interest in
his calling. A college is a farm, a store,
a foundry abundant in possibiliities to
every student who is filled with college
spirit.
THE WINNING OF WINONA.
By Exodus Keene.
CHAPTER VI.—Last Chapter..
The stoi-y of three days in the tree;
how Occonough had stared death in the
face, during those awful days and nights,
without food and water; and how the
old dog had returned to the wigwams at
home, and proved his affection by re
turning to his master with his rescuers
and the bit of venison, I guessed, was
the story which affected the princess
most. For while Occonough was yet in
the midst of the narrative, she called the
old dog to her, fbok him into her arms,
and fondled him tenderly, bathing his
shaggy coat with the tears which fell un
bidden from the copper-colored cheelr?,
A more pathetic scene I have never wit
nessed. The dog hero could never know
why such affection was bestowed upon
him. Certainly he had done a service,
such as the Master would have us do for
Him. It was a service of love. The he
ro never thought of a reward, need we
marvel then when we hear that these
savages said, “The dog came from the
‘Great Spirit?’ ”
When at last Winona’s tears had dried,
and she was seated before the shimmer
ing firelight, with the old dog snuggling
close to her, she began to take some ac
count of her present circumstances. Her
Srst thought was about the lateness in
the night. The full moon which had ris
en, just as the. sun was sinking in the
west, had just passed its zenith; the
taks of love and adventme liad been
told; in circumstance if not in words.
And during the last few minutes they
sat there, neither of them spoke, they
sat there blinking and thinking long,
deep thoughts.
It was the first evening that the chief
and the princess had had together in ma
ny days. The band of braves had di-
vin^ed the wishes of the chief, and had
built a fire for themselves, some distance
away, and as Winona and Occconough
built again the wigwam of love, the war
riors fastened the tops of some small
trees together and thatched the slanting
stocks with limbs which they had brok
en from the pines, and made a tempo
rary wigwam, to shelter the princess dur
ing the night. They carefully covered the
floor of this crude habitation with their
furs, and it was quite ready when Win
ona inquiied as to where she should stay.
As the gentle warmth of the sunlight
streamed through the doorway of the lit
tle wigwam the next morning, Winona
opened her eyes, and smiled as if she re
alized that this new light and new
warmth was but a synonym of the new
lovelight which so recently had flooded
her heart.
After the party had breakfasted, the
old dog seemed to grow restless again,
he was not content to remain out there
in the wild longer. The old fe’low cir
cled about the camp, as if to locate the
direction for the homeward journey. He
then trotted over to where the chief and
princess were seated in the sunlight up
on a log. He wagged his tail in friendly
greeting, and turned his eyes toward their
old home. Winona and Occonough look
ed at each other and understood. The
chief conveyed the messages to his braves,
and the old hero led them back to the
wig^vams of the “Red Wings.” Wino
na told her father, Crow Foot, that she
left because she could not bear to see
some one else have the place which she
believed rightly belonged to him. The
old warrior buried his wrath,Winona re
lented. The young chief was restored to
his leadership, and a wedding feast was
prepared.
The End.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF WILLIAM
STANTON.
Bear with me, gentle reader, and I
will give you a short sketch of^my past
life. I first saw the light of day about
nineteen years ago, or to be exact. May
1. 1S91. That glad da}^ for me came on
F riday, as in the case of David Copper-
ti‘ld, but whether being born on a Fri
day ha* influenced my life in any way,
as was conjectured by the sage women
concerning Copperfleld, I cannot say.
The home of my birth was situated on
a small farm, near the rolling waves of
the Atlantic, in the couunty of 0 ,
North Carolina. Here the summers and
winters were spent until I was sixteen
years old. There is nothing of extraor
dinary interest in these years. My life
on th^e farm was the yearly routine of
most country boys. It consisted of work
on tlie farm for eight months of the year.
The other four months were usually
spent in attending a “back woods”
school. My fond^est memories are of my
school life, which had its beginning when
I was about nine years old. I remember
distinctly my first day in school and the
impression it mad^e on me. I had to start
at the foot of my class, as all beginners
usually do, that is—to learn the A, B,
C’s, but this task was soon accomplished.
My idea of school work then was to
excel my schoolmates in learning and to
lead my classes.
Although I had the opportunity of at
tending school for a very limited period
each year, I usually made my spare mo
ments count. These were spent mostly
in reading, a habit which I early con
tracted and to which I owe much. Year
by year, day in and day out, as oppor
tunity afforded, I continued to attend
this little school. And I gradually rose
higher in school until I stood at the head
of my classes (probably because I had
no class mates). But this was not enough
for me. I had begun to yearn for a
higher intellectual training than the ele
mentary school could give. How to ac
quire this now became a question with
November 9, 1910.
me. Father was not able, financially, to
send me to the higher schools of the State,
and, besides, mother was opposed to my
leaving home.
However, after much persuading and
begging, on my part, it was decided that
I should attend the Graded School at
J , not very far from my home, for
a short time. This was the beginning of
a new life for me. It seemed that a
long cherished hope was about to be re
alized. Would I spend my time well and
make the most of my opportunity? Thus,
on Jan. G, 1908, I began my school ca
reer away from home. It had been ar
ranged that I should stay in th» village
from Monday morning until Friday af
ternoon ;and as I had never spent any
considerable length of time before from
home, I felt, perhaps, as the young bir.l
does when it fii-st flies from its feathery
nest to seek its way through the world.
But whatever timidity may have arisen
in me was soon abated. I found in the
students of the school a congenial set
of boys and git Is, and in the teacher,
Prof. M. II. Yol, a graduate of one of
our leading colleges and a most excellent
man, a close and intimate fiiend.
I soon learned the ways of the school
and got settled down to work. I learned
much in books duiing this school, but I
did more. I soon came to have a liking
for the fair sex of the school, and for
one blithesome maiden in particular. I
can still see in a vision, as it were, the
beautiful form, the dark hair, black
eyes, and rosy cheeks of Agnes Parks
who soon held me spellbound with her
sunny smiles and silvery voice. So pleas
ant was my school work ind so charinine
my association with Miss .tgnes that be
fore I had dreamed how p lickly the days
were fleeting by, comaiencement was
drawing near. From a novice I had de
veloped into one of the first members of
my class; but there was one thing in
which the boys could excel me,—in de-
elaiminia'. Arrangements had been made
to have a declamation contest on com
mencement day; and I happened to be
one of the contestants. I selected my
declamation—“A Tribute to Washing
ton”—and had memorized it long before
commencement came. Toward the last
of school my daily thoughts and nightly
dreams were of winning the declamation
prize. I spent hour after hour in my
room, on the highway, in the swamps, at
work on my recitation, trying to get it
perfect. The day came for the contest.
It’s good Work that Counts.
See if the
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