Obedient

It was Friday afternoon and Helen Wilkus, aged 7, was waiting in St. Casimir's Parochial School, Philadelphia, for her sister Eva, to take her home. Down the hallway came some boys. They pushed Helen into a corner of the sewing room, "for a punishment. ... Don't you dast turn around or leave that corner!" they said. . . Sister Eva never came. . . . Next morning a nun found a figure standing in the corner of the sewing room, stifling sobs. "It was awful dark and lonesome," said obedient Helen Wilkus. "Then the light came and I heard the sparrows and I wasn't so scared. I sat down then, but I stood up again when I was rested."

City College

That genuine antique, "I can't read in the daytime, I went to night school," may well have originated at the College of the City of New York. Of all large universities, few have carried education to so many young people whom circumstance keeps behind ribbon counters and typewriters during business hours. The administration of such an institution is arduous, requiring as it does, not only a "night shift" faculty but manipulation of the polyglot problems that arise among the offspring of a big-city population. But, like a 24-hour newspaper, City College employs a night executive, so that last week, when the board of trustees accepted the resignation of President Sidney E. Mezes, whose health has lately failed, a logical successor was close at hand in Dr. Frederick B. Robinson, dean of the business school, who had already directed the evening sessions and even acted in President Mezes' place during his absence. The big institution (enrollment 10,341) hailed Dr. Robinson as its first alumnus-president. Dr. Mezes, brother-in-law of Col. E. M. House, went to City College from his presidential chair at the University of Texas, in 1914.

"Angelmo"

The lyric tenor voice of Roland Hayes, Negro singer, has "brought down" many a house. Now, with concert box office proceeds, the same voice is to raise some houses --schoolhouses. Near Calhoun, Ga., where Roland Hayes was born, he has bought 600 acres and will build an institution as a memorial to his mother, to whom he ascribes all his success. The name: "Angelmo" (contraction of "Angel mother"). The nature: "a place where inspiration and talent and ambition of any kind among my own people, (and yours, too, if any of them choose to come; the doors will never be closed), will be trained and given an outlet. ... I do not aim at impressiveness in the buildings or equipment. All must be secondary to the quality of instruction dispensed. ... It will not be done in a hurry. Such ideals as I have in mind are necessarily matters of slow growth."

Such was the substance of an interview obtained last week with Singer Hayes by a correspondent of the Pittsburgh Courier (Negro weekly). With regard to his future activities in behalf of "Angelmo," Singer Hayes was quoted as saying "What concertizing I do next season will be in regions where I have never sang. ..."

Harvard Luxury

Better than a palace with a gilded dome, thinks President Lowell of Harvard University, is a college dormitory or group of dormitories where all the men of one class live more or less together. Class solidarity was President Lowell's aim when, some years ago, Harvard wiped out its "gold coast" of expensive, privately operated dormitories--Claverly, Ridgely, Randolph and Westmorley Halls--by buying them and housing all seniors together. Class solidarity was the aim when dormitories were lately built along the Charles River, where Harvard freshmen are compelled to abide. But last week President Lowell's work appeared to be partly undone. A Cambridge realty company announced that it would have ready by autumn a luxurious brick structure called "The Varsity," to be run like a hotel, solely for Harvard students. Sophomores and Juniors would presumably be the only classes eligible to live there. There would be collapsible beds, shower baths with every suite, all-night elevators, with porters, servants, maids and bellboys "available at all times." The cost: $250 to $800 per annum.

The will of Mrs. Esther M. Baxendale of Brockton, Mass., revealed last week that three young men, Alan Jr., Robert and Henry Hudson, had forfeited her estate of $500,000 to $1,000,000 by attending colleges other than Harvard. Vexed with her young friends, she bestowed a foundation upon her favorite college.