Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

Page 23 text:

The Roman Lamp By HARRIETT MADDOCKS Fourth Prize There was once a Roman lamp, who had the good fortune of living in a patrician’s palace in Pompeii. He was looked upon with great respect by the other lamps because he was made of silver and engraved with cuaint figures. His handle was a flowering vine and the snuffer was a flower. He was a very proud lamp and drew himself up taller than all his companions. “Some day I shall go out into the world and do great things. What a pity you can never hope to do any thing but stay in the kitchen,” he said to a plain kitchen lamp one day when he was taken out to be polished and filled with oil. Then he was carried away by a ser¬ vant and placed in the banquet room, where he dreamed of the splendor of the banquet to be given that night. Suddenly he was aroused from his dream by a scream from the Persian vase in the middle of the long table. The Persian vase was usually quiet and reserved so when she sccreamed he was all attention. “Oh what will become of us? My friend, Mr. Mouse, has just told me Vesuvius is in eruption.” Just as she spoke a rock came crashing through the roof and a shower of ashes followed it, which almost choked the Roman lamp. Just then a servant came into the room, seized the lamp and carried him to a dark cellar. The lamp shivered for the cellar was dusty and full of spider webs. Outside he could hear shrieks above the confusion. At last all was still and the lamp stood staring around him. A few frightened rats ran back and forth in the cellar and the spiders came out to look for prey. At first he avoided them, but gradually as time passed, their companionship became more agreeable. They gathered in a circle about him while he told stories about beautiful gardens and the luxurious banquets given in the patrician’s palace. One by one the spiders and then the rats dropped from the circle and the Roman lamp heard rumors of starvation, about him. 21

Page 22 text:

around and in a voice tender with love and grief said: “Teddy dear, listen ' Then she quoted: “Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day; ‘Twas an angel visited the green earth And took the flower away. She then kissed the curls softly and neither spoke for a long time. But now Teddy understood. In the long, long night that followed, while he tossed about on his pillow, always thinking, thinking, of his mother ' s face as she repeated the stanza and of his little sister, Teddy could not help wondering how his mother had been able to remain so quiet and calm through the many months of Little Sister ' s sickness. And she herself was so pale and worn. Years and years afterward when Teddy grew to be a man he still thought of his mother ' s face that evening, as she recited the poem, with the moon-beams playing on her hair. But then he re¬ alized how she could bear her great sorrow. She had had time to think and think during all Little Sister ' s illness and his mother did not think useless thoughts. He knew then, that Longfellow was right when he said: “And the mother gave in tears and pain The flowers she most did love; She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. 20

Page 24 text:

Years passed and the lamp grew tarnished and covered with dust. “Now I am more beautiful than ever,” he thought. This black makes me look slender and delicate.” One day he heard a loud noise and a few moments later he was pulled out into the sunlight. How things have changed,” he said to himself. Where is the palace, where are the streets, and the gardens ? The ampi- theater is gone and where are those noisy gladiators?” Before he had time to see anything else, he was placed in a bag with a number of other lamps and vases. Where are we?” he asked his nearest neighbor, a vase in the shape of a fat old man. I just heard that fellow, who calls himself a dynamite box say something about excavation what ever that is, and that we were still in Pompeii.” That night the sack was carried away and at last when it was opened the Roman lamp found himself in a dirty little shop. A grimy old man came to polish his wares and when he reached the lamp, he picked it up and examined it carefully. The lamp shud¬ dered with disgust at his touch, but nobody noticed him. Now perhaps someone will buy me and I shall see the world. Perhaps it will be a beautiful princess,” said the lamp. He smiled stiff silver smiles at all who came into the shop. His nearest neigh¬ bor iu. the shop was a little brass candle-stick. She had a great many stories to tell about her life before coming to the shop and soon the two became good friends. A tall blue porcelain pitcher stood on the shelf above them, and when ever possible he mo¬ nopolized the conversation. The Roman lamp hated him with all his silver heart. You look like a cheat,” the pitcher said one day, when he was feeling unusually cross. I don’t believe you ever saw Pompeii. It’s more likely that you were made just to sell to tourists.” The Roman Lamp was very angry at such slan¬ der, but long ago the Persian vase had told him it was not polite to fight in the presence of ladies so he sullenly glowered at the pitcher and said nothing. The days flew quickly past and the lamp thought he had never seen anyone as nice as the little brass candlestick. He had given up wishing for a princess to come and buy him. - All he wanted was to remain in the little shop with the candle stick. One day two young ladies came into the shop. After looking around a while one of them pointed to the Roman lamp and the dirty old man, who owned the shop, picked it up and handed it to her in exchange for some money. Americans” grunted the blue porcelain pitcher, I hope they like you, Mr. Cheat.” Before he 22