Greenwood School - Tree Yearbook (Ruxton, MD)

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Ye lazls of Brittany hark my song, ds your fathers harkerl of yore- ffnzl neither prayer and neither tears, Nor sweetheart's kiss, nor m0ther's fears Can keep ye safe on shore. S0 as I eallefl when I was maifl Anal flwelt in my father's hall, S0 shall I call ye from the sea, .ffnfl though ye strive yourselves to free, Yet I shall holfl ye thrall. Yes, I shall holfl ye thrall Till the sea yields up its prey, Anil the sunken ships shall rise again, zfnzl float once more on the salty main, In the dawn of the Judgment Day l M. G. MACHEN, ,37 F ' T9 Page Forty-fi

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lllii Quill? QAccording to the old Breton legend, Dahut was the daughter of one of the early kings of Brittany. She was so beautiful that all the young men fell in lover with her. But she was as cruel as she was fair and treated them so heartlessly that in despair they threw themselves into the sea. At length the people of Brittany rose against her and stormed her father's palace, crying for her death. The town wherein Dahut dwelt was below the level of the sea and was protected by dykes. When Dahut saw that death was inevitable, she unlocked the Hoodgates of the dykes and the whole town was inundated and she, of course, was drowned with the rest. But the old Breton women still claim that Dahut is part of the sea and her beauty lures the young men of Brittany to their doomj Ye mob of curs that ery aloud F or the death of your king's sole child, Soon wafoes shall o'er your bodies roll, A nd the sea winds your dirge shall toll VV ith shrieking fuoices wild. Aye, howl, for that is the way of dogs EV hen death is coming fast, But though ye lie beneath the brine Yet ye shall hear this song of mine While wind and waters last. For I and the sea shall be one, .dnd the sea shall be one with me, Wfhen efoery wafve is dashing high, .ds it fain would drown the sky, A ll will my anger see. Mortals when they 'hear my wrath TV ill shake with anxious fright, The fishwife piteous prayers will make To all the saints for her losved one' s sake, To spare him from my might. Page Forty-four

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Q THEE U lllll i i NE cold December eve last year I stopped for the night at Memory Inn, ? a quaint old place north of Philadelphia, noted for its historical back- ground. My ancient host, who seemed himself almost to have stepped out of a past century, welcomed me warmly, and insisted that I thaw out before retiring and try some of his excellent sherry. Having reassured me that I was to make myself entirely at home, he said ugood night . I sat down with the old guest book he had given me to glance through in a large comfortable armchair before the fire. It was most pleasant to sip the fragrant wine as I turned the worn yellow pages lovingly. Names and pictures of the famous characters in history crowded my mind. Especially vivid, as I studied the character- istic signatures, were the figures of Jefferson and Hamilton, arguing over government, central power or rule of the people. Quarrelling .... debating .... debating .... Now Mr. Hamilton, I can't agree with you,', came a voice from the corridor. Well, Mr. Jefferson, you will have to be reasonable and see my point, too. I knew at once that it was that argumentative pair, Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. I listened carefully to the conversation. To have your people rule,,' continued Mr. Hamilton thoughtfully as he strolled toward the fire, will bring our nation to ruin. Why, they can hardly read and write. 'cWell, sir, retorted the other, you don't expect us to pay those .... He seemed to be seeking a word which would express his feelings when he suddenly noticed me. I stood up as he approached. I am Mr. Jefferson, he began, Uand this is Mr. Alexander Hamilton, sir. You didn't need to tell me that, I said laughingly. I think I would have known you anywhere with your powdered wigs and lace stocks. Won't you sit down and join me in a glass of sherry? I believe I shall, said Hamilton fixing himself comfortably in front of the fire and Mr. Jefferson quite readily followed his example. Suddenly we heard the sound of horses' hoofs beating up the road. As the rider dismounted, the stable boy rushed out to take his horse. From the cheerful chatter that followed, we surmised that the newcomer, whoever he might be, was in excellent fettle. Page F orty-six