This flat surface, which dominates the campus, dates back to the latter part of the Ice-age. When the great ice-sheet, which covered this region as far south as Long Island, began to melt away and retreat, it gave rise to vast quantities of water which collected in the lowest valleys and ran off toward the sea. These streams were choked with rock-debris and silt derived from the melting ice, just as similar streams loaded with gravel and sand, issue from the lower ends of Alpine glaciers today. One of the streams which took its rise from the edge of the melting ice-cap was the ancient Casper Creek, the forerunner of the present brook.

At that time the appearance of the campus was very different from what it is today, for the retreating ice uncovered a shallow, rock-bottomed hollow extending from the top of Sunset Hill westward to the ledges beyond Raymond Avenue. Down the lowest portion of this trough Casper Creek flowed so heavily laden with debris that, as soon as the first onrush of the current was checked, it began dropping its load and depositing it along its valley-bottom. Thus it was that the rock-bottomed hollow became gradually filled and levelled up to the present surface of the campus. Such deposits are known as overwashed-plains and are common along the margins of melting glaciers. The campus then is simply to be regarded as a small portion of an overwashed-plain which extends along the valley of Casper Creek for many miles.

The second chapter in the history of the campus began when the glaciers had retreated so far northward as to completely abandon the basin of Casper Creek. Then the waters from the melting ice sought new channels to the ocean and Casper Creek depended for its existence entirely upon precipitation from the clouds. Under such conditions the current was relieved of the excessive load of glacial debris and started to cut out the sand and gravel which it had itself deposited only a short time before. Thus were excavated the valleys occupied by the "glen" and the "lake." It is for this reason that the flats on both sides of the Casper Creek depression are of the same elevation. They are parts of an overwashed-plain which was formerly continuous. The breadth and depth of the creek excavation indicates the amount of erosion the stream has been able to accomplish since the beginning of its second period of activity.

The "lake" depression is of a similar origin. During the period of erosion just described, it was developed as a tributary valley to Casper Creek. The "lake" was formed much later by artificially obstructing the stream at a point in its course especially suited for the

development of a pond. Here the valley-walls are particularly steep and prevent the lake water from overflowing the surrounding flat.

The knoll on Sunset Hill from which one starts to coast in winter, is built of gravel and is part of the general campus formation. The summit of the hill where the open-air concerts are held, is composed of shale and antidates the gravel plain beneath by many millions of years. It, together with the ledges occurring at intervals from Arlington Post Office to the Driving Park form the valley-walls of the earlier Casper Creek basin.

Dorothy Signor and Margaret Mary Wing, 1908

SUMMUM BONUM

A book or two and an open fire,

A friend in the other room.

A window turned to the sunset's pyre,

And a path to the hills abloom!

Ruth Mary Weeks, 1908

LULU'S WEDDING

"I wouldn't be a-marryin' now I'm only sixteen if mother'd lived," Lulu told me one day as I was helping her in her dishwashing, “but it's better t' marry an' have a fam❜ly 'n t' work out allez; Bert's awful good t' me. 'All is, I'd allez thought o' marryin' somebody like— like; somebody who's awful young an' han'some. But meybe I wouldn't ever get another chance, an' Bert he's thirty-two 'n' he says he's too old t' wait any longer.

An'

"Bert's sister's goin' t' have the weddin' to her house, an' she says I can ask folks t' come. I'd like you an' Miss Katharine to come 'f you could there isn't nobody else to be there 'cause o' me. it's goin' to be in the evenin'. I ain't never evenin' before, an' I thought I'd like to, kind o'. in the even', but t'won't matter, d' you think? ever see anyway was t' the Fair this summer, 'n' I don't s'pose they could fix that for even' anyhow."

done anythin' in the I never see a weddin' The only weddin' I

So it was that on the wedding "evenin'" Katharine and I were shown into the stuffy little parlor of an unpainted rickety house on a side street of the little village. The ten or twelve elderly relatives were already there waiting in hot silence for the bride and groom. The wedding decorations of the room were few: across one corner was nailed the long-talked-of "flower arch"-two crossed planks studded sparingly with golden glow and ferns. On the bureau beneath stood a jelly glass filled with golden rod.

Heavy steps descended the little rickety staircase outside-the minister entered and behind him the bride and groom. So this was Bert-a short thick set laborer of forty apparently; his head drawn down and bent in the peculiar deformity that is the life-mark of spinal