The officers of ’86 send greeting to their classmates and co-workers. * * * * * The new class badge will soon be ready to send out. The color of the badge remains the same, but the class emblem and motto will be added. * * * * * From Colorado—Durango—comes this encouraging bit of class news: “We have eleven members in our class and are pursuing our studies this winter with unabated interest. Belonging to the class of ’86, we mean to be true to the name ‘Progressives.’ We hold our meetings every Monday evening, and follow the program laid out in THE CHAUTAUQUAN. There seems to be a growing interest in the Chautauqua work, and we hope to have another class organized in our little town before many months. The members of the present class are busy workers, teachers, mothers and housekeepers, but they have continued the course with increasing interest to this the third year, and purpose finishing the full course.” CLASS OF 1887.—“THE PANSIES.” “_Neglect not the gift that is in thee._” OFFICERS. _President_—The Rev. Frank Russell, Mansfield, Ohio. _Western Secretary_—K. A. Burnell, Esq., Chicago, Ill. _Eastern Secretary_—J. A. Steven, M.D., Hartford, Conn. _Treasurer_—Either Secretary, from either of whom badges may be procured. _Executive Committee_—The officers of the class. Class paper may be procured from Mr. Henry Hart, Atlanta, Ga. The Canadian Pansies are doing good work in the promotion of the Chautauqua Idea. * * * * * The leaves swung lazily and slow, The wind hummed low its reverie, Chautauqua bells with loving chime Pealed forth their sweetest melody. Their quaint, weird music rolling on, Mingling with heaven’s azure ray, Enwrapped the earth with bright, new joy; It was our “Pansies’” natal day. Remembrance fond brings back the hour When on our breast the pansy blue We placed, with earnest, fervent prayer That to its trust we might be true. Again, again, and yet again, Our widening circle grew apace; And pansies bloomed on every side; North, South and West each claimed a place. And now a year with hurried tread, Has paced its tiny cycle round, Girdled with moments richly spent In wanderings on classic ground. Methinks we scarce could well have crowned The year agone with richer gems Than these bright visions of the past, Tho’ culled from monarch’s diadems. A goodly company our band— Twice seven thousand now we claim; And purpose with a royal love Thro’ every land to spread its fame. Tinted is the horizon’s rim With wisdom’s deep, ethereal blue, Yet all may reach its shining goal, If firm their trust and true.