Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

Page 20 text:

The Indian’s Lament Several members of the Cortez Club sat around the large, open fireplace in the reading room of the establishment. It was just past eleven o’clock and tin straggling groups of the theater habitues were drifting in. The rain made heavv music on the windows. The few men, smoking near the fireplace, paid little heed to the newcomers but smoked on in silence. About half-past eleven lames Mainst. the famous violinist, came in. dripping wet. lie seemed to he welcome to the group around the fire for a place was made for him. “Some weather. said Mainst as he stood before .he lire drying his dripping clothes. “It is that. Bad night for theaters. What sort of a house did you have tonight? asked one of the group. “Fairly good crowd,” said Mainst. Then, for a few moments, no one spoke. The falling drops of rain beat a dreary tattoo. The men around the fire puffed the smoke in clouds and the lire crackled merrily. Mainst broke the silence, turning from the fire to face them. “Last night, a year ago. the last selection on my program was the ‘Indian's Lament.’ As the last strains died away on the hushed air of the theater the audience seemed to forget. Even I forgot where I was. J saw the old days return. I saw the war dance the savage ceremonial of never-t o-be-for-gotten days—and the wild sweep of the Indians in battle. Then came the v ictory the mad celebration with the gory trophies of a conquering tribe the frenzied beating of the tom-toms drowning all other sounds................ Then came the tortures of the reservation. And then the wail of a dying race pierced the silent space of the theater. I finished and went to my dressing room. I was just ready to leave when there came a hesitant tap on the door. I'pon my invitation, the door slowly opened and a wrinkled old man walked into the room. Me looked at me with steady eyes. 1 asked what might be bis business. ‘‘‘Me wan you play for me.' lu said. I told him that his was an unusual request .but that I would play for him nevertheless. ‘Me wan’ you play what you play las’ tonight.' I agreed and took out my violin intending to dash through the ‘Indian's Lament’ and so end the business. But something in the old man's eyes made me stop. I looked at him again. They were fixed upon me in mute appeal. Then I raised my violin to my chin and began to play. I may have held an audience that night, but they nev er beard me play as I played to that old man. Ilis soul seemed wrapt in the spell that my music was weaving. Then. ran,- rujhteen

Page 19 text:

And vvc turned to see Gus, Gus the scorned, the despised, calmly drawing the ring, from his pocket. There was no time for explanation then. The ceremony proceeded, the bridal party turned down the aisle, but once at home; Gus was surrounded and overwhelmed with questions. In the midst of all the contusion, he was as unruffled as though saving the dignity of a minister, a bride and a groom, and twelve attendants, was a daily occurrence. “I was walkin' along, an' 1 heard the ring drop, an’ Gerald wasn't noticin' — (unfortunate Gerald!) “An I picked it up, an' Susie yelled out for me to move on— lit was true; I bad shrieked to Gus in a stage whisper, fearful that he would stop the whole procession.) An I done it. an’ then I forgot it till 1 saw you all cuffin’ Gerald arounV' The groomsmen roared and the bridesmaids fell upon him and embraced hint and J.ucy shed tears and almost ruined her dress, and Tom actually patted him on the back. But I knew what Gus craved, and I led him away in triumph to the wedding-cake. Kate Smith. 1 . In The Garden of My Heart 1 know a hidden garden in a secret place. A warm, walled garden breathing up the Odor of living flowers-Some blooms are bright, some pale, and others fresh And sweet as an April shower. And the tall trees bend their branches over the quiet walks Yearning to touch the fountain that laughs and dimples in the sunlight. And a murmuring breath rises from the flowers Swelling in poignant harmony as from the souls «»i friends I love-in the garden of my heart. —M. B. PujfC iPl'CHU'C

Page 21 text:

uhcn it was near the end. something like sadness crept into that immobile lace. Something glistened in his eyes. I played on. I put all the soul that was in me into that music. The silent one before me seemed to understand what the violin was saying. II the pathos of a million years looked out from his face. Then he closed his eyes and stretched out his arms in silent appeal. When I had finished 1 stood looking at him in wonder. That face! Where had 1 seen it before? The deep lines! the crooked nose! the high cheek hones! Deep down in my heart there awoke yearnings that had never been there before. 1 went hack through all my life and the face seemed to have a place there. Vet. I could not remember. t last he rose and faced me in Silence. • ’l don' know how I can tank you. Ilut I wan t ank you jus' same.' ' (), that's all right. I am glad to he of service to you. Ilut would you mind telling me why you wished me to play for you?’ • '.Me he Indian. You seem to understan ! You play so good. To’splain by I wan' you play would take long time and von he in hurry. “I was interested, so I told him to go on. ‘Many moons ago when my tribe was free we fin little hoy with music maker lak you have. e carry him through the forests with us to ol Manitoba. Then when they put us on reservation they teach our little boy to play music box. Then they take him to Governor's house to play music box for he play so good. When he come hack to us he sit by fire at night an play for us. lak you play for me. Then come pale-face who say he is hoy’s father. e hav to give him up. e hate to see him go. I love hoy lak father. He say I mus go. loo. So. they take me 'long as servant. We go far 'way. Then we live in city of many people. The boy. he grow he big hoy. I no see him much for he go ‘bout and play in what you call it- -t eater. All is happy ior while. 'I hen come trouble. The man be say I mus' take hoy way . Then I steal hov. I take him and lose him in snows of Sasktachewan. Then I go hack to city an man he pay me much money for w hat 1 do. Then I fin' out truth.' Then my mind, too, went hack many days. I saw a shivering hoy wandering aimlessly over the frozen snows. Then I saw the boy rescued by Kskimos. In his arms he held a cherished violin. The old man continued. ‘“Then man lie say hoy’s mother was Indian squaw. He say she dead main moons. He say boy was had hoy . That was why I took him to lan’ oi snow spirit. I believe man an' stay with him. Then many days pass an man he get sick, lie call me. Then he tell me reason he wan' hoy. He wan’ much money hoy gon’ get when he get gro.vn. Now he sick an' nearly to happy huntin' groun's. lie wan' boy. He tell me to give papers t«» boy when I fin' him. I inns’ not stop, he say. till I fin' boy. I mus’ go on till 1 fin’ boy. I mus’ give hoy heap big papers. Hut I no tin' boy. I no tin' where he gone. I go hack to Saskatchewan an follow one boy to great river in 'laska. Then I aim os’ die when I get squeezed in ice. Hut 1 get well an' go on. I go many moons. I no tin' hoy. I alums' give up. Hut then 1 tink of way we treat hoy. I go many miles. Then I look in man’s papers to r-ee what they say of man. There ! tin' picture of Indian squaw. 1 alums fall. It was my daughter who marry white man of city. Then I see I nuts' «iK nineteen