Oxford eagle. (Oxford, Lafayette Co., Miss.) 1876-current, 1888-07-12
Az Address Read By Miss Emma
Webster. Before the
AIymaae Association Of Ugi0n
Female College.
Irue IA 1888

have wandered since released
from the embrace Of our loved
Alma Mater. whether through
the boundless prsiries of the
golden Occideut, by the crystal
ripping streams Of the North,
through the brilliant Orient. or
where the carbohydrates Of
trOpic flowers laden the baImy
breezes of the Southland with
precious aroma. whether our
paths have widened into Crida-
vana meadows or grown narrow,
chOked by the debris of dead
hopes, We have ever chung with
fond love TO the memory of our
dear old Alma Mater. And In
our hearts have glowed with IN
efable charm, the pure, sera2h-
ic gems of friends, of friendship
and love we formed for our then
associates. That friendship is
but hallowed by the touch OF
time, and will remain fadeless
through the mutations of dying
years, aud Irvine its tendrIls
around the over turned affairs
aud crumbling idols, in the tenn
pie Of our hearts. Aud now, in
the warmth of our Alma Matters
welcome, around that friend
ships holy shrine. we ha G each
sober matrOns, whose brown
locks show the magnetic touch
of time, aud maidens who are
yet lingering in the rose hued
morning of life. been delighted
participants of feast of pleas
ure far mere exquisite than
graced the Olympian feasts of
the gods. OF nectarian Juice
Guaffed ia happiest hours. But
ere the glad welcome is ended,
the farewell must be spoken, aud
We trust our feet each to sepa
rate ways, but will bear across
the distance of years, pleasant
memories of this happy re union,
"as shells bear inland from the
sea the murnur of the rythmie
beach,
But with TetrOspectiOn, re
membranee dropping over fan
cy's pensive urD.' loves to
dwell and s0Oth the sorrow OF
our farewell, in tracing the
dreams of our lucid hours whei.
we stood at the gate of girlhoods
dreams. and heard times far
on bells ring full of gisdness
Then lite with its cafes, life
with its possibilities, and life
with its cold realities were uH-
known 10 us. We found a mys-
teTious fScinaIion in revelIng n
faueiful imagination, in the
shadoyy confines of an Utopia.
far above the vast panorama OF
real life, which was only reflect
ed TO Us as a beautiful image OF
sunlIke brilliancy. But the sy
ZEN hope lursd us on and We
rushed through school joys as a
thirsty Traveller across Saharas
burning sands, TO the mirage OF
a tiny spring empowered in the
delightful green OF an oasis
But, wheleshe hands of those
Who for1ed the primOrdeal ele-
ments of our womanhoOd, and
aided us in storing the Psnthe-
on OF Oa- minds with bits OF
classic lore, as they guided us
through the dark mold of the
middle ages, through the land
OF the pyramids, by the pillars
of the forum, beyond the fire.
clad rocks OF Sinai into the cha
otto gloom of primal nature,
open the gates OF real life to us:
how Elusive aud delnsive prove
the poetic visions that filed our
youthful sight. The cold fingers
of experience begins to touch
tho fairy wand that cntrsnced
ussand we find we were but fol.
lowing a mirage. For looking
back now with keener vision.
We see earth's only Eden there,
and find no other fields elysian
But let me hush the echo of
the past for more prOsaic and
practical ideas. While those cold
aud stubborn facts are true, we
find much in life to live for. and
that its pleasures are not all a.
dead sea fruit" Take this ad
mit1d truth, that il is in the
powr OF each TO be mnch wise
er and better than We are.
II We strive Cheops like TO
rear pyramids of grand deeds
TO preserve our memory whole,
we will find ourselves chained
with indissOluble links Prone
thus like 10 the rocks of disap-
pOintment, and will cry cut rs
the SyrO Phoenician woman for
a traught from Lsthe's wave.
Better that we be like the "a
cred oil of the seven branehed
candle stick, consumed our
selves while diffusing a holy
light TO others. than to gain for
our own sensual enjoyment all
that selishness ever won. And
II We would reach the acme of
female excellence, strive merely
to be a woman. All yss. naught
Is higher, ION the gilded list of
fame, oh the catalogue of virtue
there is no brighter, holier
rams." All women cannot be
Somervilles, Madam Letitias.