Agriculture in Lower Vietnam under appointment by USOM. It brought greetings from "all the Hamiltons." And it says: "You may be wondering what are Joe's duties. Here in the outskirts of Saigon, you have a citrus nursery grown from U. S. seed: in the background corn from Cuba-both a credit to the Vietnamese Agriculturists with whom Joe works. His main duty is to introduce new fruits and vegetables and increase the yields of those now being grown.

"Not all of his work is in a tropical climate. At the resort town of Dalas, 5,000 feet up in the mountains, there is an experiment station for temperate vegetables. There Joe is helping to start the production of potatoes, onions and a great local favorite-garlic." Pictures show a "head of cabbage and a field of potatoes grown under his encouragement. Those of you who knew Joe's efforts to grow potatoes on the Yuma Mesa will understand his elation at the present relative success.

"What about the people of South Vietnam? Four out of five live in villages and till their paddie rice. Land is not as scarce as in some countries and, although poverty is the rule, there are enough bananas, papayas and rice to feed every one. Nearly every family, be it Buddhist, Chinese or Christian, has a family

## 1898

Editor: Edith Schoff Boerericke
(Mrs. John J. Boerericke)
380 N. Latches Lane, Merion Station, Pa.

We announce with regret the death of Margie DeArmond Neill on January 1st.

Helen Woodall's companion-housekeeper died very suddenly on December 11th. Her death was a great shock to Helen for she had lived with her for fourteen years and was a true and faithful friend.

Your editor spent two weeks in Mexico in October on a tour with the International Homeopathic Convention. While the doctors were in session the first week, the ladies were taken to many places of interest in Mexico City and nearby places and entertained in some private homes. Then all the group were driven in cars with guides as far west as Guadalahara, spending nights at different towns on the way. We returned by plane.

Mary Calvert's daughter, Jean, came on from California to attend to some things of her mother's and visited Mary Bright.

We have had word from Clare Yardley Pulsford through her cousin who says that Clare's niece lives with Clare in Nutley, N. J. and takes care of her

## 1906

Editor: Margaret Scribner Grant
(Mrs. Harry L. Grant)
Barber Farm, Jericho, Vt.

June 10-11, 1961, are the dates set for our 55th reunion. How little did we foresee this 55 years ago! We may well dub ourselves "We happy few" and celebrate fittingly our victory in reaching the pinnacle.

Louise Fleischmann Maclay came up from Florida for Christmas and held a little pre-reunion at her apartment on Park Ave. Elsie Biglow Barber wrote, "Helen Sandison was there and Ruth Halstead Little, Katharine McCauley Fearing and Mariam Coffin Canaday who was spending a few days in New York. She gave us a delicious luncheon and we all talked and talked."

Mudgie Prichard will come to reunion. She has six great-grandchildren, one a girl. Mary Withington will come and recite "Oh Benori" for us. Many others will be there. YOU come too!

## 1907

Editor: Alice Hawkins

1909

M. GEORGINA BIDDLE, A.B.

In the death of Georgina Biddle a unique personality has passed on.

An unusual gift was the capacity for making and keeping friends. She forgot no one and no one forgot her. Her kindly and generous spirit reached far beyond her immediate circle and she shared in many community responsibilities. Her keen humor made her a delightful companion and her spontaneous wit enlivened every conversation. Unaffected simplicity and sincerity endeared her to everyone.

A remarkable ability to take pleasure in small things enabled her to keep a zest for living even when she was severely handicapped by arthritis. She ignored limitations and no word of complaint escaped her.

It is hard to believe that our good companion and loyal friend has crossed the bourn from which no traveller returns.

Katherine E. Ecob

MARY E. HERR, A.B.

No. She wasn't really late but there was always the slight awkwardness of edging the car out of the garage when there was snow in the driveway. Better telephone for a taxi, but now,

it seemed a little later than she had first thought. She seemed unaccountably nervous. She did not want to miss her beloved Symphony and there was still shopping, not much but the shops were so crowded these days. But it is still early, she reasoned again, though she was beginning to wonder why the taxi that she had just telephoned for, did not come. So white, so clear, so beautiful—it will be a real Christmas. No; no taxi in sight—she struggled with the garage door, righted the car and was out and off down the driveway into the main road.

Mary Herr's lifelong friend, Elizabeth Singleton, writes "She parked the car near the station and then was seen to collapse immediately."

We had received our Christmas greetings from her, here and in England. We were glad that she had gone so quickly. As one friend wrote, after he had heard of her death, *how she will enjoy that Symphony*. And another, *she will really have a Happy Christmas*.

My friend, and Mary's, Bryher forwarded Elizabeth Singleton's letter to me. "In the next *Bryn Mawr Alumnae Bulletin*, there will be a tribute to her. Do you think that possibly *Hilda Doolittle* would write it? Mary would so like that."

No, this is not *the* tribute, but *a* tribute. There are many others better equipped and better informed who will write the formal *Vale*. But she showed me her treasures when Bryher, Norman Pearson and I spent a day and a night in Lancaster, at the time of my 70th birthday visit. She unlocked her precious china cupboard. "I am saving this for Elizabeth Bryher," she said, as she handed me a tiny miniature dresden cup and saucer. Elizabeth Bryher is my grand-daughter. She had taken my daughter and my daughter's daughter to her heart.

*This above all*
*To thine own self be true . . .*

She showed us the fields, "This was a Herr farm." Another and another Herr farm. It was all Herr, this still untainted, almost virginal Pennsylvania country. "And here my mother is buried," as we slowed past an authentic early church and church-yard, "I will be buried here."

But "Mary had willed her body to Johns Hopkins Medical School, it was taken immediately—it was so like her to do this 'for the good of humanity.'"

If there is one word for Mary, it is *true*. She never was, she never could be *false* to *any man*.

H.D.