East Liverpool High School - Keramos Yearbook (East Liverpool, OH)

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EFHIIIUS VoL. I EAST LIVERPOOL, OHIO, MAY i910 No, 6 The Wages of Sin apartment sat the solitary figure R121-J of a man-alone- but for the white, ghostly casket at the other end of the long room. It was dark save for the last few rays of light that threw weird shadows on the floor and caused the haggard face of the man to look even more wretched than it was. Outside the wind moaned painfully and within the air was heavy with the per- fume of rare and exquisite fiowers. A tiny jeweled clock ticked mercilessly, vindictively the words, Mur-der-er, mur- der-er, and the accusing word burned into the man's inmost soul, causing him to forget all but the dead form of the beautiful woman in the white, gleaming casket-the sweet, pathetic face, never so lovely as now, the sad, gentle eyes forever closed,-the dainty mouth with its little droop of pain. He remembered how good she was-he would give worlds for the opportunity to begin again-but it was no use-he could never retrace the step he had taken. While he sat there a thousand demons danced before his eyes- a million fingers pointed at him in accus- ing scorn. He could endure it no longer- he would look upon that sweet face once more-then he would follow the beckon- ing fingers, to eternal torment. With tottering footsteps he makes his way to the casket, and as with trembling fingers he removes the cover, his white LONE in a splendid, luxurious lips murmur the single word, Murderer. All his cruelty appeared before him-a knife was being pressed against his breast. He could feel its keen edge. Presently it would enter his heart and he would re- ceive his punishment. Another dagger pressed his side-he could feel the hang- man's rope about his neck-he could see fire burning beneath his feet. He was starving - thirsty - dying. Would not some o11e give him water, food, comfort? Could he not for a moment be released from that awful torment? The demons danced on, and the little clock still ticked accusingly. With agonized terror and suffering, his wild eyes are fixed upon the white, still corpse. Look! Oh, in God's name, look! See that hand! Does it move? Does it move? A frenzied shriek comes from his parch- ed lips, piercing the fearful stillness in its awful intensity, penetrating to the farthest parts of the house. He falls fainting be- side the casket, for one moment at least relieved from pain. Terrorized servants bear him from the room and frightened men and women apply restoratives. is as -:Q is Pk wk It is midnight. A solitary candle throws its pale light over the ghostly coffin. The room has grown cold, the clock on the mantel-piece has struck the hour. There, in the far corner of the room, a curtain is drawn aside, and the husband, with gleam-

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154 livramna Class of ineteen-Ten CLARENCE LEMMOX Latin Editor of Kerztmos. lie-holil our illustrious editor. one who clips from thc clipper :tml swipes front the swiperf' MILIJRED WEAVER Latin Secretary of Senior Class. Cir- culation litlitor of li:-ramos. lf music is the foutl of love, play on.' LEROY RICHI-IY linglish Athlete. Best pitcher in High School history. In school he specializes in geography. ls supposed to have culled on at girl once lnut verilietll. Ambi- tion---To he a cutnhinutiun of Baseball and Basketball star. ELLA MCLHAN I-Inglish Speaker. Student. One of uur quiet little girls, with tlztrk brown eyes uml llattrinr: curls. FLORIENK' l-I STUNI-IY l-Inglislt She would rntltvr he seen and not lit-zm.l. HARRY HILI. Latin Grammar L'ockin's Pets Basket Ball 'l'eztm '08-'0'1. Sr-niur's Basket Hall 'learn '09-'l0. Cottnttaml large fields, hut cultivate small ones. SARA VAUGHN VODREY Ensllish A laugh is worth a huntlretl groans. ,Z BEATRICE M HA RIN linglish A quiet utmhtrusive Senior. RALPH SMITH l.:1tin Cockitfs Pets Bzxskethztll 'l'eam '08-'09. Senior Basketball Team '09-'1U. Athletic l-Ztlitor uf Ker- ztmos. Treasure of Class. This Smith, at mighty man is hef' t HARRIET SHAWKE English Nut at very great saint, and not 11 tery great sinner. but iust a metliutn. DAVID TALBOT miss Sltake.H Cap l nglish Genius, Athlete. Philosopher, Beauty. Muther's only boy. Very chubby. very lazy, very good-naturetl. Wellafed---trust him. First 1910 star athlete. The Mark Twain of the Class. His startling theories, phantom- like iukes and real wit lung ago earned him the title of Shake- speare. lf leuulcl only learn as well as l hear. how wise I would he. ---Shakespeare. DAVID RHESE Latin lfouthall '09. Virtue is the tirsl title uf nobility. VVlLl.lAlVl BAKER English Captain 1910 Track Team. A hero is a hero---in athletics as elsewhere.

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156 Kvramnn ing eyes and cat-like footsteps, approaches the casket of his dead. He will have one moment more with her alone-then he will close and lock the coffin and it shall never be opened again. For a moment he stands quietly watching her. Asking God's for- giveness and her's, he raises his hand to place down the lid-when suddenly the left hand, on which a simple wedding ring gleamed, was lifted and fell back again in the same position as before. Frantically he pushed down the lid. What means this awful torment-what can be that quiet signal. Sweat stands out on his forehead in mighty drops-he can bear it no longer. He will watch her the whole night, then, for something says in a quiet whisper, She is alive! He would swear by the eternal God that she lives. Did the hand not move? Did he not see the hand move? Still the little clock ticked Murderer, and in his soul he knew that it would to the end only speak that one word. He had killed her. He knew he had killed her-by his own brute selfishness. Lower burned the candle, darker grew the night, but the wild, burning, searching, gleaming eyes of the man never closed-they were watching, glued upon the face of his dead wife with the same fixed stare. Listen! There is a faint stir, a tiny rustle. He looks. The hand is again raised! With the clutch of a madman he clutches it in his own-it's icy coldness chills his very soul. Look! Oh, is God in Heaven merci- ful? Will this agony never cease? A long time-ages it seemed to the almost exhausted man-the hand lies lifeless in his own. Suddenly he feels a tightening clasp, and the eyelids slowly part. Terror! Can that one word de- scribe his agony? Can that one word describe his fear? The eyes! Watch the eyes ! Slowly they open and look unsee- ingly into his own. Maddened he drops the hand and falls back almost uncon- scious in his chair. Again the knife is piercing his heart-again the demons dance before his eyes, beckoning with cruel fingers. But her eyes now opened see and the lips are parted to speak. A low, sad voice says, What, John ? and the form is raised upright in the casket. Then, seeing in what she was lying, seeing the wild eyes of the man by her side, she uttered an awful shriek and falls back in a dead faint. 1 When the frightened servants entered they saw the heaving breast of the woman in the casket, saw the madman who sat by its side. A doctor is called, who pronounces it a trance, and the next morning the woman was fully re- covered. Ae in is as as an In a padded cell of an insane asylum, on a stool in the corner, with bowed head and glistening eyes, sits a man, whose one word is Murderer, murderer. A sweet, gentle, sad-faced woman visits him some- times-but it would have been better if she had died. I. M. P. MARSHALL, '10. Willie had tried by various means to interest his father in conversation. Can't you see I'm trying to read ? said the ex- asperated parent. Now, don't bother me. Willie was silent for almost a minute. Then, reflectively: Awful accident on a train today. Father looked up with in- terest. What's that, he asked, an acci- dent in a train ? Yes, replied Willie, edging towards the door, a woman had her eye on a seat, and a man sat on it. The wise graduate forgets his books, but not what he got out of them.