Excerpt from The Purple and Gold, Vol. 22

Mountain day at Williams, a beautiful, glorious, life giving day in middle October. According to yearly custom all recitations had been suspended. Students had dropped their books and in parties of two, three or more were now far away from the little town, slowly picking their way along hidden paths towards the summits Of the hills. One band had chosen the climb to old East mountain. The trees were shedding their leaves and the green, peeping out from beneath its many-colored coating. Was darkened and intensified by the network of shadows which played upon it. It seemed almost dese cration to disturb the stillness Of the scene by talking. Or even by rustling the leaves. The four young men had agreed not to look back until they had reached the top, yet the trees still shut out the view and they could have seen nothing.

The afternoon was almost spent when they passed the last rise and stood on the crest of East mountain. The four young men turned and looked down. The scene before them beggars description. At their feet lay the little station and just beyond, to the right, the college. Standing out proudly against the opposite hillsides was the lofty towered chapel. Glistening white in the sunlight. TO the left was Griffin hall. Even as they looked the sheen of the setting sun departed. The orb snapped beneath the horizon and darkness be gan to set in. At length a freshman broke the silence and said almost in a whisper.

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