‘It is my peculiar privilege to have spent all my College career in her class, to go through years of her special personal teaching. In later days, when the College assumed larger dimensions, such an experience must have been rare; to those who could claim it, it meant a potent influence for life. How vividly can I recall her sitting on her little dais, scanning the long school-room and discovering anything amiss at the far end of it; or making a tour of inspection to the various classes with a smiling countenance that banished terror.’ So writes one old pupil of that time. Another speaks of that deep tenderness which she ever felt, but often concealed, and was not afraid of showing in a case of special need. ‘When I was almost a child at College I lost my mother, and shall never forget Miss Beale’s tender sympathy and help. She took such interest in my preparation for Confirmation, and brought me herself to my first Communion,—just she and I alone; a day I shall always remember. All through my girlhood she was a kind and ready adviser, and continued her interest throughout my married life. One always felt whatever happened to one, Now I must tell Miss Beale.’ It is sad to know that Miss Beale was often depressed in that hopeful spring-time of the College by the tongues of gossip and slander. She had so profound a horror of petty talk about other people’s business, that she possibly exaggerated the importance of carelessly repeated and untrue reports. She mentions the local gossip from which the College had to suffer. ‘Tales were handed about that it was impossible to trace. It was said that accomplishments were neglected, that the pupils played on dumb pianos. Persons who did not exist, and others who would never have been admitted, were said to attend the College. News was sent out to Canada that the cattle plague was prevailing, and the report was half believed. The mere circulation of absurd falsehoods is, however, often enough to decide a mother to place her daughter elsewhere; sometimes no falsehood at all, a contemptuous tone is enough. Such things can only be met by silence and steady and unobtrusive work. Perhaps one is better off without the children of those who accept their rule of life from Mrs. Grundy. Certainly such opposition and persecution prove an excellent tonic, and I personally feel grateful for it, though it was a bitter draught. We had to remember that the interests of some were injured by the establishment of the College; the wish being father to the thought, people would sometimes believe what they said.’