Valedictory

By Miss Hilda Busick.

Class of ’91.

[A]Das ist im Leben haslich eingerichtet, Das Bei den Rosen gleich die Dornen stehn; Und was das arme Herz auch sehnt und dichtet, Zum Schlusse kommt das Voneinandergehen.

The words of the poet are but too true. What rose does not hold up its pretty, fragrant head, feigning unconsciousness of the thorns hidden beneath its bright, green leaves? And just so life’s joys are with its sorrows associated. There never was a perfectly happy day, unclouded as the skies of June, for every pleasure, inasmuch as it must end, carries with it some sadness—every meeting, the pain of parting.

So to-night the joyous echo of “welcome” is still to be heard, the fragrance of its roses is yet perceptible, when the solemn “Farewell” rings upon our ears and its thorns pierce our hearts.

Ruskin says, “It is a type of eternal truth that the soul’s armor is never well set to the heart, unless a woman’s hand has braced it, and it is only when she braces it loosely that the honor of manhood fails.” If then, the honor of the world is dependent upon woman, if she is to be responsible for all war and all peace, happiness or discontent, it behooves us to consider the greatness, amounting to almost awe, of the duty imposed upon us. Our task may, perhaps, be a difficult one, but not if we seize it with an unyielding grasp, and fight it to the bitter end—“to the last syllable of recorded time”—if need be.

Our circle of usefulness is constantly widening. The doors of colleges, and thus those of every profession, have opened to admit us within their sacred precincts. In all parts of the world our sisters are successful as musicians, painters, sculptors—Harriet Hosmer, for example—physicians, professors, stenographers. Many of them are now on the highest rounds of the ladders from which their lack of superior education formerly excluded them. This is especially true of stenography. Yet some one has recently written, that, owing to their superior tact in arrangement, their neatness, their unobtrusiveness, their faithfulness, and numerous other excellent qualities, the demand for women in this capacity is steadily increasing. We find them filling lucrative positions in banking, commercial and publishing houses; in brokers’ and insurance offices, in law firms, in fact, in every place where the haste of this nineteenth century requires a stenographer’s speed. Indeed, they have made for themselves, in the use of the “wingéd words,” a name which it is our duty to assist in more firmly establishing.

In behalf of my classmates, as well as for myself, I wish to thank our Instructor most cordially for his thorough teaching; for the interest he awakened in us toward this intricate art, without which we would have long since been compelled to cry “Vanquished;” for his timely assistance over the sharp pointed stones and by the brier bushes in the darkened forest, and for his patience which our forgetfulness so sorely tried. And, though our words of gratitude may be weak, the feeling is deep-rooted in our hearts, and through the years to come we shall carry with us many pleasant memories of the hours spent with him, and never fail to appreciate his more than kindness.

The neat typewritten exercises, letters and legal documents, which the members of the typewriting class have at different times shown us, are an earnest of the work done in that department, and we can have no doubt that his pupils feel grateful to their teacher.

The School Committee, indeed all the members of the G. S. M. & T., have our heartiest thanks for their kindness in enabling so many to gain a profession, and for the interest they have always manifested in our welfare.

One word of “Farewell” to my classmates: During the past Winter, while studying together, many of us have formed strong friendships, which we hope shall never decay, or have bound more closely those who were friends before. Several of the more fortunate have already obtained positions, making profitable use of the treasures received from our Instructor. But the others need not despair, for if we are faithful and determined we shall in due time receive our call, and “In quiet and in confidence shall be our strength,” perfection shall be our aim, and when we have reached the goal, may it be said of us, as Antony said of Brutus:

“Nature might stand up and say to all the world, ‘This was a man.’”

In our journey through life, when doubts fall thick and fast around us, and the lowering sky seems just above our heads, surely these beautiful words of Goethe will fill us with encouragement:

“Wouldst thou win desires unbounded? Yonder see the glory burn, Lightly is our life surrounded, Sleep’s a shell to scorn and spurn, When the crowd sways unbelieving, Slow the daring will that warns, He is crowned with all achieving Who perceives and then performs.”