ONE WOUld think that, after all the trouble that had been filling the air for the past few days, occasioned by the ill-fated sleigh ride, nobody would for a while think of doing anything but her normal routine of work. Not so with the Freshmen. Most of them, it is true, were much impressed by the fate of the Sophomore class; they were sorry for them, in spite of the fact that the Sophomores had made them the butt of ridicule. But others, setting by their enemies' punishment as beside the question, were indignant at the original fact of being dictated to. A few of these latter, the irrepressible ones, only laughed in their sleeves and gloated, and devised methods still further to tickle the sore and sensitive dispositions of the "Sophs."
The leader of this handful of Freshmen was Tommy. She had been keyed up ever since the sleigh ride to Belchertown; her active mind was working, and she was ready for any fun. And so, on the day following the humiliation of the Sophomores, this notice appeared on the Freshman bulletin board in the post office:
|
Great Freshmen Lawn Party and Reception Held on the lawn outside of PORTER HALL In honor of THE SOPHOMORES 4.45 P.M. EVERYBODY COME!! |
Although addressed soIely to the Freshman class, there was no reason why healthy, normal young women should not feel a curiosity to know what such a notice might mean. The Sophomores were normal; and, one telling another, group after group visited the sign, silently, with inquiring eyes, and went away looking perplexed and black. They commented in whispers, and the curl of the lip showed their disgust. There was nothing more to say, however, and nothing to do but to wait and see.
The main body of the Freshmen, on the other hand, went on with their work, wondering a little what the unexpected pleasure in store for them might be. But they did not dwell on it; they only decided it must be "something great," and straightway forgot about it.
As 4.45 approached, however, their nerves became a-tingle with anticipation, and, armed with the books of their last recitation, they hurried to Porter. Half a dozen of their own classmates were acting as "ushers" and "bossing things."
"Freshmen, drop your books on the piazza and line up," they cried.
In the drive, rolled up from immense snowballs whose tracks went hither and thither in the stretch of white, stood a great snowman, in his hand a red 1907 banner, on his head an old hat with a red band, and in front a stolen Sophomore poster, flaring green, for an apron.
As they waited, Tommy and Molly and a few others came out of Porter, Tommy waving aloft in her hand a roll of paper. Sophomores, who with other upperclassmen stood in the rear of the crowd, pressed forward expectantly. They were silent, but there was a tenseness over all that was not pleasant. The ushers and those who had just come out of Porter ceremoniously surrounded the snow Sophomore; then Tommy, standing out from the group, unfolded her paper and began:
"With apologies to Mr. Longfeller:"Listen, my children, and you shall roar
With the midnight deeds of the Sophomore;
On the thirteenth of January, 1905 --
There isn't a soul of them left alive
Who'll ever forget what made them sore! "
The Freshmen were by this time appreciatively grinning and giggling. The upper classmen, too, joined them; but the whole performance had something uncanny about it -- they felt something unfortunate was about to happen.
"And they said to themselves: 'If we steal a march
On the Freshies asleep in the dorms to-night,
Let a signal appear on the bulletin board
And the deed will be done ere the morning light.
When the hands of the clock say two, then we
Swift to the rendezvous will be,
And before the enemy take alarm,
On every college house and dorm,
Will post our commands with good strong arm.'"That night, in corridor and hall,
On tiptoe and watching with eager ears,
In the sleeping silence a Sophomore hears
The sound of mustering at the door,
The whispers hushed and the stealthy feet
Down the wooden stairs with creaking tread;
Masses and moving shapes of shade
Steal out to the grove where the plotters meet."Meanwhile, patroling the campus wide,
Booted and muffled, with heavy stride,
A doughty watchman saw something queer!
Now he nudged his companion's side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then stamped his frozen feet on the earth,
And blew on his hands for all he was worth!
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the college church,
As it rose over tree and hill,
Lonely, and spectral, and somber, and still."And lo! as he looked, on the dorms' great height
A glimmer of a match, then a gleam of light!
His heart's in his throat, his head he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
Another and another lamp there burnsl"A hurry of feet on the campus walks,
A shape in the moonlight, a phantom shade,
That upon the asphalt a sound scarce made --
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of the Sophomores was stalking that nightl"It was two by the tower clock,
When up through the trees the Sophomores marched --
The men heard giggles and breathless talk,
As forms loomed mysteriously up the walk,
Plotting for a dreadful shock,
While they knew naught of the two who watchedl"Ah, but the watchmen were on the scent,
Who behind the bushes kept their post;
They saw -- to inform the President,
And the Sophomore legion all was lostl"For what do you s'pose it was they'd seen? --
Pasted on bush and tree and wall,
On building and flagpole, post and hall,
Posters long and wide and green,
Setting forth words of wisdom and wit,
Expecting to make a terrible hit!
It was planned that morning should reveal
The glaring sheets to every eye,
And that the Freshmen then should feel
Proper remorse for their perfidy!"But, oh, for their plans! for their midnight deed!
When back to their rooms they'd softly sped
And all wete slumbering snug in bed,
Forth came the watchmen, and ruthlessly
Tore from each hall and wall and tree
The garish green strips, till they left nary shredl"You know the rest. We will spare the tale.
Teeth have been gnashed and you've heard the wail.
They won't paste posters for us any more --
Who wants to be a Sophomore!"
As Tommy finished, she waved her paper to the round of applause that greeted her, and, eyes sparkling, cried:
"Now, minutemen! Show them what you're good for! To your guns! There's your Redcoat over there. Get your snowballs ready -- and s-s-soak 'em!"
With a screech of glee the Freshmen fell to. They needed no encouragement. Handfuls of snow were squeezed together and hurled, with more or less good aim. In a moment the snowman was blinded by an onrush of projectiles. His hat was gone, his apron riddled, his flag torn from his hand and dashed to the ground. There was a giggling and a hooting. Somebody was enjoying herself.
This sort of fun lasted only about as long as one might count ten. For suddenly from the back of the crowd came up the cry:
"Sophomores, rescue the banner!"
This was something like it! Unconsciously the fun became a regular flag-rush, such as the little Freshies so often admired in the boys of other colleges. They giggled all the more and "lammed" the snowman, but with a bit of misgiving in their hearts that alI was not as it should be. The Sophomores, who a moment before had been only a handful, unaccountably increased to a cohort. They charged the Freshmen to rescue their flag. In a moment some one captured it and waved it aloft. Twenty hands stretched up for it and tore it back once more. Shreds of the green poster were flaunted over the Sophomores' heads and fought over as though precious relics. Those who were not directly in the vortex of the whirlpool were contented with pelting their opponents with snow, which at close range and in such a mass proved very effective.
"Go it, girls! Go it, Freshmen! Don't let them get their red rag!" This was Tommy.
"Red rag! We'll show you what you're insulting!" cried Edith Brewster, starting up, hair disheveled and snow-filled, and glaring at the Freshmen hotly. "And we'll make you suffer for this!"
"Well, what's the matter with you now? Why didn't you keep out of our fun? Seems to me you Sophomores are always interfering with --" An avalanche of snow from behind ended the sentence.
The frolic had become a melee, and the melee was general. Juniors joined in to lend the Freshmen a hand and more Sophomores came. Cries of "Wah-hoo-wah!" and "Rah-rah-rah, Freshmen!" rent the air. There was a tumult of shrieks and laughter. Snowballs bit into cold, red cheeks; there was snow in ears and melting down backs. "Tams" were knocked from girls' heads, hair was hanging disheveled, with snow trickling through it. Some laughing and some glaring countenances were everywhere. Girls were washing one another's faces and pulling and pushing gleefully, without any desire to do harm, and without any particular aim -- except in the center, where still the shreds of the flag, now in several pieces, went from one to the other.
Suddenly something happened. An ill-aimed snowball sailed clear of its target and went crashing into a window of the Faculty parlor of Porter Hall.
The matron, who had been watching the performance from a dining-room window, first with a smile and then with a feeling of apprehension, suddenly decided upon her course of action and marched upon them from the front door.
See here, girls,'' she cried, ''this has got to stop right away -- right away!"
Several Faculty came out at the same time and joined Mrs. Jones.
"You have gone too far, girls," they said. " Please stop and go home."
But the smashing of the window was the sunset gun of the fray. The girls stood and looked at authority sheepishly.
"I should like to know who broke the window," said Mrs. Jones.
"I don't suppose you will ever find out," said Edith Brewster. "They wouldn't tell you."
"You Sophomores have got to pay for it," retorted Tommy. "You interfered with us!"
"Well, I guess not! We have to pay you for this yet," snapped Edith, waving a bit of red rag.
"Put that away, Miss Brewster!" cried one of the Faculty on the steps. "You will begin trouble again."
"We are ready for more trouble," answered Edith hotly.
"And you'll get all that's coming to you," flung back Tommy. "You had no business to interfere!"
The two champions were glaring at each other, when suddenly through the crowd pushed a calm, sweet-faced Senior, who went between the leaders. It was Gail Calder.
"What is the trouble, anyway, girls?" she asked, smiling quizzically from one to the other. "I was studying in the library when I heard the fuss and came out. Mr. Dodge met me on the path and told me you were killing one another." She Iooked at the torn-down and dismantled headgears of the crowd, and could not refrain from giggling herself. "Girls, you're a sight to behold! Don't you think you've had enough?"
The participants were themselves laughing, and all started to explain simultaneously. With that the crowd took on a menacing aspect again.
"Hush, hush!" cried Gail. "I think you'd better go home first. Please go home before you start fighting again. I'm afraid --" shaking her head -- "you have got yourselves into a terrible scrape."
Gail's appeal was not lost on them. Slowly and silently the girls dispersed, bearing away bits of red flag and hat, and strips of green poster under their jackets as trophies. The affair that had started under auspicious skies closed under storm clouds. Grins were soured and laughter turned to menaces. They went home and took good care to keep away from each other.
The fever ran high. All evening indignation meetings were held in every house. Each class thought itself in the right. The other's conduct was dipped in ink. Porter was the hotbed of the trouble. There a rumor was passed about that Edith Brewster stood in some danger or other from the Freshmen, and everywhere she went friends guarded her like police. Sophomores patroled the corridors till ten o'clock, and relieved each other at intervals. Once they tried to prevent the Freshmen from meeting at a corner room. There was a scramble to keep the Sophomores out, and one girl fainted. That night, especially in Porter, Freshmen and Sophomores went to sleep with their doors locked and, so to speak, "on their arms."
Next day retribution came. Meetings were called of both classes, and, through their officers, the displeasure of the President was made known to them. She was not yet ready to act, but wished first to have the classes decide what course they would take. There was a silence when Fanny announced very gravely the President's message. Freshmen, who a moment before were only indignant, grew suddenly cold and began to shiver with the excitement of the unknown apprehension.
"Of course," said the Freshman president from the reading desk, "the Sophomores interfered with our fun, but I have thought very seriously since last night that we insulted them grossly, though thoughtlessly, and really invited the trouble."
"Madam President," said Helen Thompson, rising to her feet during the hush and nervously fingering the chair in front of her, "I feel as though calling this class meeting was an unnecessary thing, unless you called it to decide what to do with me. I should have gone to the President long ago, if Fa -- if Miss Wallace had not insisted on my waiting for the class meeting. I am ashamed of the whole affair -- because I hatched it. It -- it was only done for a frolic. I never thought of snowballing the Sophomore snowman till the minute before it happened.
"It was thoughtless and ill-advised; but it's no use crying after having spilled the milk. Oh, girls, I'm simply mortified, and I -- and I -- can only apologize to you for dragging the name of the class down to such disgrace. I -- I am going to see the President after this is over. It's up to me and I -- I'm going to take my punishment."
She fell back to her chair and broke down completely, trying to keep back the tears that crowded out of her eyes.
The momentary hush that succeeded this speech was broken by a murmur of protest that quickly grew to confusion. But through it all Molly Walsh claimed the floor.
"Madam President, I want to tell the girls that Miss Thompson isn't alone to blame. I and several others joined the spree gayly enough. She needn't say she planned it, because we made lots of valuable suggestions. And, besides, she would never have done it if we hadn't encouraged her. We didn't let you know about it, Madam President, because we knew you wouldn't approve of it, and so did it on the quiet. If Tommy goes to see the President, I follow on her heels."
"And so will I -- and I -- and I, too," cried several others.
"You girls must never think of doing such a thing," exclaimed Tommy. "I got up the whole scrape from my own dizzy brain! I want you to stop talking all that nonsense."
"What would the President do with them?" was queried.
"I don't know," responded Helen, her teeth chattering. "I expect to be expelled. So there's no use of any more people getting in it."
" Expelled! Why, we'd never think of letting you go and tell on yourself!" cried a Freshman. "Madam President, I think the class as a whole ought to take the blame on its shoulders. Then the President would not expel anybody, any more than she did the Sophomores for what happened two nights ago."
"I think so, too, Madam President," said another. " Besides, Miss Thompson only got up the show. We did the snowballing and raised the racket willingly enough."
"What would happen to us, then, do you suppose? Would the President suspend us?"
"I'm afraid we're in for it."
"I have not the least idea what she will do," said Fanny. " I think it would be best to explain everything to her."
"I move that we send a committee to the President to convey our apologies as a class to her, and tell her the circumstances," said a practical Freshman.
"I second the motion. I think we acted abominably, and they say the President is terribly broken up over it."
"Well," said Helen, "you can go if you want -- perhaps it's best to -- but I am going nevertheless."
The motion was put before the meeting and carried. The committee was carefully appointed.
"Now," said President Fanny, "that disposes of one question. The next is, what are we going to do about the Sophomores?"
"Sophomores?" cried an impulsive Freshman. "Why, what should we do?"
"We insulted them," said Fanny quietly, "and we owe them an apology."
"We apologize!" cried several simultaneously. "Why, they insulted us the other night and never apologized!"
"Madam President, I'd like to know what we are coming to, to go on our knees to everybody!"
"Nevertheless --" began Fanny.
"Madam President, they had no business to interfere. We were not touchy about the posters, and we ought not to be expected to apologize any more than they."
"Nevertheless, their being ill-mannered does not let us out," said Fanny. "The fact remains that we insulted them. We ought to be just even if they were not."
"Yes," put in a Freshman, "the Seniors think we ought to and so do the Juniors -- everybody I've talked with."
"Well, we won't apologize to the Sophomores!" cried several decidedly.
"Girls, we'll have to," said Fanny.
"Madam President," said a more level-headed member of the class, "I think we might wait until our committee has consulted with the President."
"Yes, yes, that's better," approved several. "Then we shall do what she says."
And so, after more debating as to what, exactly, the committee should be careful to say or not to say, the meeting was adjourned to await developments.
The Sophomores, meanwhile, had also a class meeting and sent an apologetic committee to the President. But before either they or the Freshmen could reach the President after supper that night, Helen Thompson was already locked up with her in her private parlor. She had lost all her enthusiasm and appetite since the unfortunate occurrence of the day before, and had not been to supper to-night, but had stolen out while the others were at table, and waited in the Brigham Faculty parlor until the President should be at leisure. Now the crisis had come.
"I -- I have something to tell you --" she said, her heart beating thickly, "about yesterday. I -- am entirely to blame for the whole affair."
"Which affair do you refer to, Miss Thompson?"
"The snowfight."
"Why do you feel yourself to blame?"
"Be-cause --" said Helen, drooping her head, "because I got up the whole thing. Oh, you know how the Sophomores stuck posters up for us the other night, just because we had taken the barges first. We did not know the Seniors had precedence. We only wanted to be smart."
"Do you think it pays to be 'smart'? Wouldn't it be better if you stopped to think a little more seriously before you take any such step? It seems the trouble yesterday came also from an ill-advised step."
"I know there's no excuse for me," said Helen, her eyes filling. "Only those Sophomores have been making it so hard for us, that -- that it tickled us to have them get into trouble because of the posters."
"That was a very ungenerous feeling."
"I know," said Helen, raising her eyes pitifully, "but they have been horrid to us and talking about us ever since we came! If we don't do things, they say we are slow; and if we do, we get into trouble because we are fresh. They look down on our class terribly -- and -- and -- that's why it tickled us."
"Still," said the President, her eyes on a burnt-leather centerpiece on the table by which they were sitting, "why should you further compromise yourselves because of that?"
Helen was silent.
"You say it was your personal fault -- How? Did not the whole class engage with the Sophomores in the snow battle, and did they not break a window in Porter? Did they not insult the Sophomore class by tearing their banner?"
"We didn't really start to tear their colors; they snatched the banner from us, and it tore. I don't know who broke the window. But we didn't mean to insult them. We only wanted to make sport of them. It was not the whole Freshman class; they only went in to help when they were told to. It was I who wrote the parody on 'Paul Revere's Ride'" (her eyes studied the floor in shame and she flushed red), " and -- and I got up the whole scheme. Really I didn't mean any harm. It was just meant to be a frolic, only the Sophomores didn't just take it the right way."
"I should think they mightn't," said the President, smiling.
"I -- I -- don't want to see the class punished for this," resumed Helen. "They are not in the least to blame. I invited them to come."
"Were there no others implicated with you? Did you do all this alone?"
"No, but -- I -- I really was most to blame," said Helen, ashamed of her prominence, and at the same time wishing to shield the rest. "I incited them, and they were only in for the fun."
"Who were these others?"
"I would rather not tell. Indeed they were not to blame!"
There was a silence of perhaps five minutes, during which the clock over the fireplace tick-ticked, and the laughter and voices of the Brigham students out in the corridor could be heard through closed door. The stillness within was painful, for both the President and Helen were thinking of grave things.
"What do you expect me to do with you?" asked the President at last, her eyes lifted to Helen's.
Helen did not flinch from the gaze. Only for a moment she faltered, because she was ashamed. But as she looked into the President's eyes, her own filled with tears and she bit her lip to keep back a sob.
"I don't know what you will do with me," she whispered, not trusting to speak louder for fear of a breaking down completely. "I suppose -- I -- shall be -- expelled." She hid her face in the little lace handkerchief she carried, and her frame shook with sobs.
A look of pain came into the President's eyes as she contemplated the sobbing girl before her; for she was generous and inclined to be merciful when her students were imprudent. She suffered with them.
"Miss Thompson," she said at last, "don't break your heart over it. I am very sorry indeed it all happened. You were very unwise and imprudent. But you are a true-hearted young woman --"
"I am so mortified that it happened!" wept Helen. "It is more of an insult to you than to the Sophomores."
"I am sorry for your own sake," went on the President, with a little smile of pity. "Don't you suppose we can manage somehow to keep you from being so impulsive? It seems to me I hear more of you than of any other Freshman."
Helen gasped with a sob of abasement, and turned pale and cold.
"Don't you suppose that you could keep a better watch on yourself, to prevent yourself from doing these things? I am mortified over this affair."
"I am so sorry!" gasped Helen.
"Will you try to keep a check on yourself?" said the President, as Helen pushed back the disheveled yellow hair that streamed on her tear-wet face. "Will you try?"
"Yes, yes," cried Helen, raising her tortured face, "I'll try to be good hereafter -- if -- if you really are not going to -- send me away."
"Then you will be good," sdd the President, encouragingly, "for I want you to stay and make up for the past."
"Indeed I shall," said the girl, weeping afresh. "And -- and I'll be good just because you -- want me to."
"There now, dry your eyes and go home and go to bed. Go right to bed. Have you much studying to do? Can't you leave that and get up early in the morning and do it?"
"Oh," said Helen, heaving, as she rose, a sigh that stirred the very depths of her bosom, "oh, you are so -- glorious! I do not know what to say --"
"Don't say anything. The result will be your reply. Now don't think about it any more. When I want to see you again about this, I shall send for you. Good night."
Two days later a mass meeting of the whole college was called in Mary Lyon Chapel by the President of the college. The atmosphere was tense and full of foreboding. The girls looked at the President fearfully.
"A short time ago," she said, opening the meeting, "in the Children's Court in New York City, a small boy was brought before the judge for throwing stones at a Chinaman's window. He was sentenced to pay a dollar fine, and his mother was given the alternative of chastising him physically. Being poor, she took the latter course, and proceeded to belabor the boy, who very naturally protested at the top of his voice.
"'Set still an' let me bate yez,' she cried, out of breath. 'Shure, it's hard on me to have to do it, but the judge says I've gotter take a dollar's worth o' lickin' out of yez!'"
The way thus broken by the tactful head of the college, and the air cleared by the peal of laughter, she proceeded:
"It is one of the saddest occasions in my life when I have to resort to corrective measures; but such an occasion has the redeeming trait of leading to correction. That is the reason I have brought you together this afternoon -- not so much to punish offenders as so to correct and remodel the ideas of the college in what is popularly known as hazing, that we might have no more trouble or unpleasantness between classes in the future...."
Then followed a statement of the week's happenings, and the President continued:
"This is the summary of the unfortunate events, and now the presidents of the Freshman and Sophomore classes have something to say to you. Miss Wallace --"
Fanny arose in her place, pale with the unpleasant responsibility put upon her. In behalf of the class she apologized to the Sophomores for ill-using their colors and fighting them on the Porter lawn. She apologized for her class to the President of the college and the students in general for disgracing the college by being the cause of such a deplorable disturbance. Lastly, she apologized to the Seniors for being ignorant of the custom of precedence and thoughtlessly taking the barges first.
The Sophomores in turn, through their president, offered a well-worded, though a trifle grudging, apology for attacking the Freshmen, and also for sticking up the posters around the campus for their benefit.
After this the President arose again and announced that Miss Thompson had a few words to say. Drawing herself together, Helen courageously took the floor. There was a tense hush over all the chapel. Her knees were shaking under her, and she held tightly to the seat in front of her to keep from falling.
"Girls," she said, in a hollow voice that sounded strange in her ears, "I feel mortified to stand up before you and say what I have to say." She shivered pitifully. "I want to say that I was the originator and instigator of the whole miserable affair of the snowfight, and I -- I -- apologize to the -- Sophomore class and to you all for what happened -- and to the President."
She sank into her seat, her face burning and her heart beating fiercely within her. She Iooked neither to the right nor left, and the President, to cover her mortification, quickly rose again to address the meeting.
"Girls," she said, "for a long time past I have been thinking that the institution of hazing, no matter how mildly practiced, is a deplorable fact; that students could get along better and live more happily if class distinction were less marked. There would be less friction and so less unpleasantness. Hazing represents anything but the Christian spirit, and the reputation that it does good is only mythical. It is a college custom instituted merely for the fun, and it is often carried beyond the limit of kindliness. It is the old case of the bull fight: the people on the stand are enjoying the spectacle; the bull is not.
"Now, girls, I called you here this afternoon to put the question before you. You have long been accustomed to take hazing as an accepted fact and deeply grounded institution, and I believe that, with a chance to consider it afresh, you will find that it is not a fact but a question. This is the question before you now, and I give you a chance to consider it: Is it advisable to let hazing continue, even in its slightest form, or shall it be abolished?
"It is a question that no one but yourselves ought to decide, since you will abide by its decision. I state the question again, and give you ten minutes in which to turn it over, each in her own heart and mind: Is it advisable to let hazing continue, or shall it be abolished? We will consider that this is a motion put before the meeting."
There was a pause. For ten minutes by the clock on the gallery railing, the students deliberated among themselves and in their own minds. There was no need of discussion. This topic had been uppermost for the past few days. What the President asked of them was certainly reasonable, for she had asked them to make a rule which she, within her right, might have forced upon them. She had suffered the Freshmen and Sophomores to go lightly when she might have made the punishment extremely unpleasant. Many of the girls had long thought hazing, gently and harmlessly as it was practiced, something of a blot on a woman's college. Moreover, the President wished them to abolish it. Whatever she wished was surely right, and it would please her to have them do away with it.
A few felt that they were parting with an old friend. "Hazing" and "college" were inseparable words. Look in the dictionary for the word "hazing" and you are sure to find the word "college" ranged alongside it. It was too great fun and not very unpleasant -- only occasionally there was trouble like this week's. It was good for the Freshmen; it showed them their place, it toned them down and made them sensible and respectful. And yet the trouble of the last few days was disgraceful. They owed it to the President to make reparation.
When the ten minutes were up the latter again arose.
"Are you ready to vote on the question?" she asked.
"Question," responded students here and there in the chapel.
"The question is: Shall hazing be abolished from Mount Holyoke College? Those in favor of abolishing it will please rise."
The great mass of the students stood up, some eagerly, others more reluctantly. Only here and there students remained seated; but these were so few that they were hidden by the multitude on their feet around them.
"I think I need hardly ask for nays," said the President, her face and eyes lighted up with a wonderful smile. "Girls, I congratulate you, for you have done a great thing; this is a memorable moment. Now let us all sing 'Holyoke.'"
And, standing in the places where they arose, with a Junior accompanying them on the grand piano at the foot of the platform, they sang -- the President with them -- with the patriotism of an army marching to a victory:
"Long ago she rose and stood
In a quiet valley;
Girt about by hill and wood,
Where the sunbeams rally.
"Hol-yoke, Hol--yoke, tried and true,
We will love--her ever!
Alma Mater and the Blue,
We'll forget -- no, never!"