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STACK Class LTl2sis.frooK \\3 v,SZ-S3 THE LIBRARY OF HAVERFORD COLLEGE THE GIFT OF ytyjt ]\^*H^JLt^J&J~(>S*r^ ACCESSION NO. /3o/^ • I 4-^*i." ..5 1 V \ J J^obemtier 1933 MEHL & LATTA, Inc. PALM GARDEN CAFE Lumber, Coal and "NORA'S" Building Material Dancing Sandwiches Raln.y-Wood Ply Wood Koppcrt Coke Beer Wall Board and Celotex ROSEMONT, PA. 211 W. LANCASTER AVE. Telephone Bryn Mawr 1300, 1301 ARDMORE Haverford Pharmacy VIC'S LUNCH Established 29 Years Home Cooking GOOD DRUGS *•» Orders Beat of Service Delivered To Haverford Men VIC AND MICKEY *•» • Formerly of the Diner Phone. Ardmore 1 22 306 W. Lancaster Ave. Ardmore "THE HAVERFORDIAN" IS A MAGAZINE FOR THE STUDENTS, BY THE STUDENTS YOUR SUBSCRIPTION IS NEEDED FOR ITS CONTINUED EXISTENCE SUPPORT "THE HAVERFORDIAN" 'ASK THE MAN WHO COMES E. S. McCawley & Co., HERE" Inc. Established 25 Years HAVERFORD, PENNA. A. VASSALLO BOOKS BARBER 118 Weil Lancaster Avenue ARDMORE, PENNA. Official Booksellers to Ardmore 3353 Haverford College Patronize our Advertisers ESTABLISHED 1818 jy^OTHIJ mil?inev& |thnri£lfiiuj &ooim, MADISON AVENUE COR. FORTY-FOURTH STREET NEW YORK Country Clothing In addition to our specialized equipment for hunting, riding and shooting—Brooks Brothers' stocks include at all seasons of the year assortments of clothing for general country wear. In the early Fall months particularly, our stocks are especially worthy of inspection. English Country Hats $3.75 to $12 Separate Jackets $35 to $42 Odd Flannel Trousers $10 to $18 BRANCHES NEW YORK: ONI WAU STRUT BOSTONi REwetiRi cor. BCRaairr mm SUPPLEE . ICE CREAAV ^ A PRODUCT OF NATIONAL DAIRY JOHN TRONCELLITI Expert Hair Cutting SPECIAL ATTENTION TO HAVERFORD MEN ARDMORE ARCADE Phone, Ardmore 593 Patronize our Advertisers Table of Contents Ballade Christopher morley 4 Via Leiden rene blanc-ROOS 5 The Stranger at Emily's Richard e. Griffith 9 Three Poems Almost Sonnets james d. hoover 12 Sonnet edward o. parry 13 On Not Keeping a Diary Oliver f. eggleston 14 Editorial 18 Books, Three Reviews 19 Cinema 21 Drama 22 THE HAVERFORDIAN Vol. LIII HAVERFORD, PA., NOVEMBER, 1933 No. 1 The Haverfordian is published monthly during the college year. Its purpose is to foster a literary spirit among the undergraduates. To that end contributions are invited. Material should be submitted to the Editor before the tenth of the month preceding publication. Entered as second-class matter March 19, 1921, at the post office at Haverfbrd, Pennsylvania, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in section 1103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized April 11, 1921. Oliver F. Egleston, Editor Associate Editors Rene Blanc-Roos Charles Bancroft Book Review Editor Richard E. Griffith Art Editors D. Dennis Dunn John A. Church, III Business Manager Matthew W. Stanley Advertising Manager Circulation Manager Harcourt N. Trimble, Jr. Samuel S. McNeary " Ballade Of old, it seemed conventional to say [Desiring our green homage to express) "Our Mother's ancient head is growing gray, Or, "Time hath silvered her with his caress." But since ourselves the grizzling years confess We speak with more discretion on the tongue— For it is we, brothers, who senesce— Our Alma Mater is forever young. Time, the great wind, has blown us far away: We have learned sorrow, failure, and duress; And mirth and marvel; but in her, today, It is ourselves we see, in pristine dress— Ideal selves, untarnished by distress, Assured and eager, and the nerve high strung— So, in her art to dedicate and bless Our Alma Mater is forever young. She bred us, boys of many-mingled clay, And how we fare in upshot, none may guess: Though some prove ace and king, some deuce and trey, She catered with fust hand, none more, none less. We also thought ourselves important—yes, The bestfor whom old Founders' bell had rung— Therefore in laughter, precious to possess, Our Alma Mater is forever young. Envoy Quaker lady—may I say, Princess? I sing thee as all cavaliers have sung— Now, though we darken, do thee incandesce And be, carissima, forever young! Christopher Morley. Via Leiden CAME over in 1922, and in the winter of that year I skated on a I pond for the first time in my life. I recall I was ashamed to write of it to my schoolchums in The Hague, for we had always agreed amongst ourselves that only fancy-skaters and girls would submit to the shame of going around and around in a foolishly endless circle when you might hunt for adventure along the spiderweb of canals that spreads from the diked polders of South Holland to the lake-country of Friesland. We used to pass The Hague Golf Club that was flooded every year to make a rink for the fine ladies and fat gentlemen of the club, and we used to sneer at them as we passed them on the canal on our way to school. Here I was, skating around and around on Concourse Lake in Fair- mount Park, coming back every five minutes to the place I started so that finally I got to know by heart where each crack in the ice was. To make it worse every one stared at me. I still had my Dutch skates made of wood except for the runners, and they tied on with leather straps; and in the end, when I was no longer indignant enough to be stubborn I became self-conscious and went home. The next year I began to skate for the Philadelphia team and had to admit that my wood-topped skates with the runners not even projecting beyond the heel were too slow in fast company; so now I have three pairs of Belfay Specials, tubular skates, made by hand, twelve and a half, fourteen, and sixteen inches long. I'm told that in Holland, too, the wooden skates will soon be museum curiosities. Jaap Timmer, who fives in Groningen now, wrote me lately and bragged of his new all-metal skates imported from America. He and I together learned to skate on the Schenk, each holding onto and pushing a kitchen-chair on the ice till we grew proud enough to scratch wobblingly away under our own balance. I was thinking back on this as I put a fresh coating of vaseline on the cold blades of the Belfays the other night and looked along the razor-like edges to see if none of them had begun to serpentine. They do sometimes, perfect though they're said to be. There was none of the feeling about them that I had when my mother bought me my first skates in the little shop in the Anna van Buerenstraat. The Belfays are nothing but fast pieces of steel, and when you look along their narrow straightness against the light you do not see the brown-black ice of a THE HAVERFORDIAN grass-banked canal with a windmill at the end; but only the drab layer with which they cover the cement surface of the indoor course and the four wooden blocks not far enough apart, so that the only thing to remind you of a windmill as you bank around them is the inside of your head. It was while doing away with a spot of rust on one of them that my mind ran back to the first time I had seen the new type of skates. * * * « The weather, even for Holland, was cold that year, so that the ice was thick enough for a heavy horse-drawn sleigh to go safely where it pleased, and the head of the school gave us a skating-holiday because he knew that most of us would suddenly have had to go to the funerals of our grandmothers who usually died about that time. There were four of us of about the same age—Jan Kooyman, Pim, his brother, Adriaan Blanker, and I. Jan Kooyman was tall and lanky and always set the pace at the head of the pole. Pim and Adriaan usu- ally skated in the middle and I would hang on to the end. Jan, Pim, and I always got along pretty well and we tolerated Adriaan because he could beat any of us and the year before had been rather a help in win- ning the school-race for four-men teams. He was all right but his father had money and it made a difference. We planned to go to Gouda the next morning, and after we had made all the arrangements we all three of us noticed the satisfied smirk on Adriaan's face that he always wore when he was going to surprise us unpleasantly, but we knew it wouldn't do any good to ask him about it so we didn't say anything. Early the next day we all met at the Kooymans'. Adriaan was late and when he came walking up the street we saw that he had a pair of funny things in his hands with shoes attached to them. Of course, we knew that they must be skates and he told us his father had given them to him for St. Nicholas. The blades ran out about five centimeters beyond the toe and ended at least two centimeters behind the heel. They were entirely of metal and nickel-plated all over and they looked queer and very gaudy. He bragged about them as we walked down to the Schenk and said they were twice as fast as the old skates the rest of us had to use, but we laughed at him and in a little while he shut up because he was out of breath.

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