just paralyzed when he looks at them; but I'm not. I feel like
doing things just as well as I can.

Sunday, November 19. We had a missionary from South Africa to
preach in the chapel this morning. He seemed to think we were
all getting ready to be missionaries, because he said among
other things that he hoped to welcome us to the field as soon
as possible after we graduated. His complexion was very
yellow. It reminded one of ivory, elephants' tusks and that
sort of thing. We heard afterward that he wasn't married, and
that he hoped to find a suitable helpmate here. But although
Mr. Durant introduced him to all the '79 girls I didn't think
he liked the looks of any of them. At least he didn't propose
to any of them on the spot. They're only sophomores, anyway,
when one comes to think of it, but they certainly act as if the
dignity of the whole institution rested on their shoulders.
Most of them wear trails every day. I wish l had a trail.



To complete this picture of the college woman in 1876 we need
the description of the college president, by a member of the class
of '80: "Miss Howard with her young face, pink cheeks, blue eyes,
and puffs of snow-white hair, wearing always a long trailing gown
of black silk, cut low at the throat and finished with folds of
snowy tulle." None of these writers gives the date at which the
trail disappeared from the classroom.

The following letters are from Mary Elizabeth Stilwell, a member
of that same class of '79 which wore the trails. She, like