Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

Page 16 text:

22 SPECTATOR Mrs. Ware opened the door into the playroom, where stood a beautifully trimmed tree. The candles were burn- ing brightly, and they gave forth such a glow of light, that Bobby’s eyes were somewhat dazzled at the sight. At the very top of the tree was a little white candle which burned very, very low. “Is that—the candle—of life?” asked Bobby. A white star was below the candle, and Bobby whispered to Nathalie: “And is that—the star—of—Bethlehem?” Surprised and excited, Nathalie could only whisper, “Yes, yes!” Mrs. Ware then carried to him his toys, but well she knew that he wolud never play with them. Suddenly, Bobby pushed away the toys, and closed his eyes. His face was very white, and his breath came short. Mrs. Ware turned pale and clasping Bobby’s hand, she whispered in a tense excited whisper, “Bobby! Bobby!” Bobby raised his big blue eyes and looked wearily up at her. “I’m—so—tired,” he breathed. The little candle flickered, fought desperately for a moment—then went out. Nathalie sank to her knees with a sob, and buried her face in the covers. Bobby’s life had gone out with the Christmas Candle of Life!

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SPECTATOR 21 to bed soon, Nathalie. You must be rested so as to be ready when called upon at any time. Pray fervently, dear. Good night.” Good night’” answered Nathalie, and when her mother had gone, she undressed very quietly and went to bed. That night, Nathalie had a very beautiful dream. She dreamed that she was a little shepherdess and that she went with the shepherds to see the new born King. When they reached the stable to which the star had led them, a little boy, who was dressed in white, came forward, and, taking Nathalie by the hand, he led her to the manger, saying: “Come see the Christ-child, Nathalie.” It was Bobby! Then the stable faded away, and Nathalie opened her eyes to see her mother leaning over her. “Nathalie, Bobby wants you, dear.” So taking her mother’s hand, she followed her into Bobby’s room. When they reached the door-way, her father came for- ward and led her to Bobby’s crib. There she saw a little face so pinched and white, that she was alarmed. “Is this Bobby?” Nathalie asked in surprise. For he was a very different little boy from the one she had known two weeks before. Just then Bobby opened his eyes and asked in a little, weak voice: “Nattie—tell me—the story— of— the Christ- child.” “Courage, dear. Do your best,” whispered Mrs. Ware, and she felt much comforted. Then, holding his little hot hand, Nathalie told, just as she had dreamed it, the story of the Christ-child. When she had finished, the room was in perfect silence. Bobby’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling. Nathalie thought he was asleep, and was going to leave him, but he opened his eyes and asked: “Did Santa Claus—come?” “Yes, dear, do you want to see what he left?” “Yes, please,” he answered.

Page 17 text:

SPECTATOR 23 Christmas Reveries M. E. C. ’15 “It came upon a midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth. To touch their harps of gold.” The sweet notes from children’s voices floated into the room. The dancing candle lights from the Christmas tree and the waving banner of flame from the log fire sent shad- ows scampering about. The light and shadows played hide and seek over the people sitting in the room, now hiding in the soft folds of a gray gown, now lighting the copper waves of a curly head resting on mother’s arm, now shining on the glistening balls of the Christmas tree. The tune which the children sang in an adjoining room was an old Christmas carol which brought to the listeners many reminscences. The grandmother’s eyes twinkled as brightly as the candle lights when she thought of her first Christmas recitation. The old school house was elaborately decorated for the Christmas celebration. Long strings of red and green tis- sue paper hung from the rafters; evergreen boughs and holly transformed the dingy walls into young forests. The bench- es were scrubbed, the wash-basin scoured. The teacher had been so carried away by the Christmas spirit that he had locked his rattan up for the occasion. She remembered the new red dress trimmed with plaid, which she wore, and the smile which her mother sent back to her from where she sat among the visitors. She was the last on the program, and recited “How doth the Little Busy Bee” without a mistake. Then the whole school sang, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” She remembered it all, the bright eyes and merry smiles, and the supreme hap- piness on that day. How queer it would seem to her grand- children !