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Saturday, December 5, 1931
Member Southern Inter-Collegiate
Published Weekly by the Student
Body of Salem College
$2.00 a Year :: 10c a Copy
Editor-in-chief Sarah Gi
Managing Editor - Mary Louise Mickey
Agsociute Editor - Margaret Johnson
Associate Editor Dorothy Heidenreich
Feature Editor Beatrice Hyde
Feature Editor - Susan Calder
Feature Editor Marion Caldwell
Poetry Editor Martha H. Dai
Ass’t Poetry Editor Isabella Hanson
Music Editor - Mary Absher
Society Editor Josephine Courtney
Sports Editor .Mary Ollie Bi
Local Editor Mildred Wolfe
Intercollegiate Editor Miriam Steve
Mary Drew Dalton
Advertising Mgr. ..
Asst. Adv. Mgr. ...
Asst. Adv. Mgr. ...
Asst. Adv. Mgr. ..
Asst. Adv. Mgr. ...
Asst. Adv. Mgr.
Edith Claire Leake
.. Emily Mickey
t. Ad. Mgr. Mary Catherine Si
Circulation Mgr Sarah Horton
Asst. Circ. Mgr Ann Shuford
Asst. Circ. Mgr Rachel Bray
er to change
‘There is no
One act, oi
Immortal, I have heard.”
“This above all:
self be true,
And it must follow, as the night
Thou canst not then be false
Only 17 more shopping days un
til Christmas! And only 14 more
days before Salem girls go home to
see Santa Claus himself!
It’s rather late in the season, but
the Salemite staff takes this time and
place (and space) to congratulate
and to thank heartily the Freshman
staff for its noble issue of The
Salemite. Methinks Editors Gray
and Long have been reading Bally
hoo. I declare, these green Fresh
men do have it all over the rest of us
when it comes to originality.
Somebody said that Mahatma
Gandi used to be a successful law
yer. Well, anyway, it looks as
though he didn’t win many suits!
The various student organizations,
through the President’s Forum, have
successfully aided Dr. Rondthalei
conducting chapel this week. Ye
Paragrapher thinks this policy
The weather, the games, the old
fighting spirit, the turkey, the c
berry sauce, the toasts (even
usually fine this Thanksgiving.
SCHOOL IN HAWAII
Some mainlanders evidently think
the Hawaiians are cannibals. Our
family had a lot of fun over our
Hawaiian license plate on our auto
mobile trip from New York to Balti
more. People looked at it and then
at us with mouths wide open as if
they expected surely to see canni
bals. In order not to disappoint
them but to give them something
look at, I decided to put on my grass
skirt and nonchalantly to strum the
ukelele, mucli to the horror of my
family. A garage-man asked daddy
how long he had been on the road.
Daddy very unconcernedly said,
"Oh, about a montli.” The man said,
“I don’t believe I’d like to drive
that far.” I suppose he actually
thought we had driven across
People have all kinds of vague
and strange ideas about Hawaii, but
some of their most peculiar ones
in connection with the schools. Be
fore I went to Hawaii, when I told
someone I expected to be gone three
years, he said, “Oh, but you’ll
a lot of school, won’t you?” While
I was attending the public high
school in Honolulu, our scliool got a
letter from one on the mainland
quiring whether we wore grass skirts
to school! Other people imagine
playing ukeleles and singing as
stroll from class to class. So I C'
elude that the average mainlander
is in dire need of being enlightened
on the subject.
To begin with, I wonder how many
people know that for many years
Californians sent their children to
Honolulu to be educated rather than
to send them around the Horn
New England or to allow them
grow up without academic training
while California was yet a wilder
ness.^ How many of you know that
the oldest and best preparatory
school west of the Rockies, Punahon
Academy, is in Honolulu.^ Besides
that there are several O'tlier high
schools and the University of Hawaii
in Honolulu, to say nothing of the
schools on the other islands of the
Another question I have been
asked frequently concerns the lan
guage spoken. Some people want to
know if I had to speak Hawaiian,
French or what not? It is true
that among the older Japanese, Chi
nese, Hawaiians, et cetera, one
hears often their respective na
tive language. Officially the Ha
waiian language, which consists of
twelve letters, is no longer used (ex
cept, of course, in their songs). The
schools which the children are re
quired to attend are English-speak-
ing schools. However, there are
Japanese language schools which
many ambitious children attend for
the rest of the afternoon after they
have finished the required public
As to the costumes of the school
girls, it is true that their dress fre
quently shows a native influence,
but at least you will not see Chinese
pajamas, Japanese kimonas, and
grass skirts among the younger gen
eration. They are American citizens.
Native costumes are conspicuous
among the older people in the streets
of Honolulu. Instead of the grass
skirt, one sees holokus (Mother Hub
bard Dresses), which the Hawaiians
have clung to ever since they
introduced by the Missionaries.
Of the twenty-five hundred pupils
in the public high school of Honolulu
perhaps two hundred, or ten
cent, are Caucasian. There
Hawaiians, Chinese, Japanese, Por
tuguese, Caucasians, Italians, Ko
reans, Germans, et cetera, in many
and varied mixtures. One of the
beautiful girls I have ever seen
one-fourth Hawaiian, one-fourth
Chinese, one-fourth Portuguese and
one-fourth Spanish. She was proud
of every bit of it too. Her skin
a dark olive tinged with rose;
hair was dark brown and curly. She
smiled and revealed gleaming white
teeth. Her brown eyes did not show
the least bit of a slant. It
fascinating to think of all that she
My horae-room teacher was a big
fat, brown Hawaiian with curly
black hair and good-natured eyes.
In the Realms of Day Dreaming
"Much have 1 travelled in the realm^s o/ day dreaming.”
This week our travels in the land of books carry us far, far in-
deed—in fact, all the way to and through a book which has not
even been written so far. However, in view of the fact that "The
Science of Daydreaming, or How to be mentally absent though physi
cally present," is practically known by heart and practiced daily by
all Salem girls, we shall review it and make our hopes and prayers
that some brave group will be inspired to compile this information
for the edification and instruction of the Freshmen and other Fresh
men to come. This book will naturally be more interesting to this
class of students, as they are the only people who are inclined to
waste whole semesters paying attention on class before they learn tht
exact method of competent day dreaming.
Day dreammg, as expounded in our book-to-be and practiced hy
Salem students daily, is a science not to be held lightly. Each and
every gesture has a meaning all its own, and any false move madf
while one is travelling on the wings of fancy in class is apt to bring
one’s teacher down on one like a ton of bricks. Who is there whr
knows not that sick feeling of having betrayed herself by pretending
to take notes when there are no notes to take? “Everything in its
place” is the motto, and one is usually compelled to adopt the type oi
one’s day dreaming to the circumstances under which it is done. Fo'
instance—while it is quite easy to write, “I love Bill Smith,” and
sundry poems to Bill Smith’s blue eyes in History class, with every
appearance of taking conscientious notes, in Math class you must
confine yourself to .'maginary dances and football games with Bill
Smith—all the while keeping your eyes pinned in rapt attention on
One whole chapter in the book will probably be devoted to “Day
dreaming under the Supervision of Psychology teachers.” This is
an especially difficult problem as they are on the look-out for just
that sort of thing. However, the best method seems to be to come
out of the fog occasionally to pop a question, and then to retire
into the motionless fixed stare again.
When the technique of mental absence during physical presence
is properly learned, it is quite possible to defy all psychological laws by
doing two things at once. The student learns to laugh appropriately,
rustle papers, and sigh at the proper moments without ever retuining
from the land of day dreaming.
Another beauty of this delightful subject of study is demon
strated when grades come in. You may flunk Physics and Educa
tion, but you can bet your life you made an A on day dreaming.
He taught the Hawaiian language
and Hawaiian history. A large Ha
waiian woman, wearing a white holo
kus, taught lahala weaving and other
Hawaiian arts. A serious looking
Chinese man taught the Chinese lan
guage. It was an education just to
observe the people and to learn their
customs. Imagine being surrounded
by and working side by side with a
group of slant-eyed, black-haired,
dark-skinned, broad-grinning peo
No matter how vague people are
on matters concerning Hawaii, you
will scarcely find one who does not
connect it with romance. Maybe you
never thought there could be much
romance about a school. But then yi
have never been to Punahon, a school
which used to belong to a king! You
have never been to a school which
was founded by missionaries
built up on the splendid traditions
of faith, devotion, and hardship,
which they so nobly bore. Then,
HOOT WHO DO!
Little Owlet in the glen.
I’m ashamed of you;
You are engrammatieal
In speaking as you do.
You should say, “To whom? To
Not “To who? To who?”
Your small friend Miss Katydid,
Maybe green ’tis true.
But you never hear her say,
“Katy do! She do!”
since the Hawaiians love legends,
there are many interesting ones con
nected with Punahon. They are
firmly believed too, and everyone
knows them. Doesn’t that make it
Through some kindly influence,
intangible yet powerful and endur
ing, Punahon always has been and is
now distinguished for the happiness
of its students which is due to it;
friendly atmosphere and not im
probably to the guardian spirits
of those who in the past gave
their best to this fine school and who
so earnestly prayed that it might en
dure as a power for good in the
Once more I look down at the
foaming blue ocean, into the rain
bow-filled valley, and up at a deep,
Hawaiian blue sky, as I walk down
an avenue of stately Royal Palms.
And all of this is school in Ha
I love it. Don’t you?
—Mary Absher, ’£
And if I gain, — oh, gun at sea.
Oh, bells that in the steeples be;,
At first repeat it slow !
For heaven is a different thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in.
And might o’erwhelm me so!
’T is so much joy: ’T is so much joy I
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured all upon a throw;
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
This side the victory!
Life is but life, and death but death!
Bliss is but bliss, and breath but
And if, indeed, I fail.
At least to know the worst is sweet.
Defeat means nothing but defeat.
No drearier can prevail!
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself.
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive.
New periods of pain.
I let the blues creep in today
I’ll take possession of tomorrow
And cram it full of work and play
And not leave any room for sorrow.
He is the richest who is content
with the least.
WHAT! NO HOPE!
I’m telling you, folks, it’s a sin!
can’t understand why they do it;
s beyond comprehension. My
dears, I refuse to understand. What,
you say! Well, you might listen
but I’ll say it again! What I am
becoming delirious about is the fact
that certain morons continue to col
lect pictures of the beaming (?)
countenances of the stars of the silver
screen. Some, at least, call them
‘beaming countenances.” I have my
iwn especial name for them which we
von’t bother about now.
As I was saying, it doesn’t seem
ight that people just waste away
their years gazing at some totally
blank expression and become enrap
tured over the idea that perhaps it
/asn’t the secretary after all who
igned the photo but that romantic
looking specimen who played the part
of waterboy in “Touchdown,” or
something. 'You don’t believe there
such people? Listen, old-timer,
cast your dear little eyes on most
any girl you happen to see and if, in
her wistful expression, you catch a
far-away look, you may be sure she
dreaming about the last auto
graphed photo received from Holly
wood. Oh! And more than that!
She is thinking of the ideal place for
one because you know how good
and how very different from the
others. The way the little finger is
curled around the left ear is partic
A sudden twinkle of the eye shows
that the perfect position for this
treasured example of poor photogra
phy has probably been found. Upon
inquiring of the maiden where she
has decided to place it, she would
undoubtedly reply that on top of the
modernistic frigidaire is the only va
cant place left. What, you never
heard of a modernistic frigidaire?
You’re behind times—they thought
of that this morning before you got
up. I should say “Ickle” to you. I
will say it.
Believe me, it’s a vacuum that
can’t conceive of some more beneficial
way to idle one’s time than to tack
up movie pictures all over the room
and then spend the rest of one’s time
gazing at them. I think it is a stupid
person who wouldn’t at least think
up the idea of licking postage stamps
or coloring Easter eggs, instead of
collecting pictures of “flicker fools.”
Indeed, there’s many a cute girl who
loves to lick postage-stamps, and
don’t let any one tell you otherwise.
But I must stop or I’ll say some
thing nasty and that would cause my
loving heart to miss two beats.
Grave Diggers’ Union,
2 Casket Street,
You are cordially invited to at
tend a dance given by the Grave
Diggers’ Union, at Coffin Hall, No.
2, Casket Street.
Take the Cemetery Car to the
dance, or, if you prefer, a hearse will
call at your door.
rickets will be sold for the price
of twenty bones (no credit). Or
phans accompanied by their parents
will be admitted free of charge.
Murder will be committed to amuse
Suicide will be permitted, and re
freshments will be served by the
The pet of the evening will be
given by the Crepe-Hangers. Please
do not disappoint us by coming.
The Corpse Quartet will moan
“The Dying Song,” and also the lat
est song hit “Two Corpses, in Fu
neral March Time.” Coffins will be
given away free with every ticket.
Please do not rush to the door
when you hear Gabriel blowing his
horn for the Final Judgment.
Please do not try to find the sender
of this message, as it is from an
“The Dear Dead,”
P. S.—You’re next!
That’s a new one on me,” said
e monkey as he scratched his back.