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Page 90 text:
Where the little du x carts ramble The streets of cobblestones, And the chubby Fraus With shoes like scows, Chatter in merriest tones? ' I ' is there in the illaiz;e of Oosterleek By tlie shores of the Zuyder Zee, Hiat the little Dutch babies are oin ; to sleep To the murmuring of the sea — And the soft winds whisper tbrouj;li the trees, And tlie wavelets kiss the shore, And a sunset rare You may sure see there. Like you ne er saw before. ' ou would lave the folks of t)osterleek. Who laugh by the Zuyder Zee, For there ' s never a frown In all the town. But they ' re tender and happ and free; And the folks will welcome ou ere u land With a welcome that ' s hearty and true — Should the chance be yoins To see their shores. The gods will be favoring miu. Fax Lei-.
Page 89 text:
Rudlif; back to lur! A year passrd, and she showed its weary length in her tired eyes and [lale face. Yet no day was too stormy to care for the sleeping hull) At last she fell ill. The brusque, old doctor refused to let her leave the room, but the kind-hearted nurse wheeled her to the garden window on the sunny days and she watched patiently for the bulb to bloom. Steadily she grew worse. One balmy day, when the mother was too ill to raise her head, the nurse found three tiny, green shoots from the bulb. The mother was very happy. " 1 shall live till it blooms, now, " she smiled — but the nurse shook her head. So she clung tightly to the frail stem of life, but each day her grasp grew weaker. Finally, when the birds were first caroling to the Spring, the bud burst into bloom. But the mother ' s resistance was worn away, and her life could cling no longer. When the evening shadows fell at last, she spoke slowly. " I have waited and he has not come. Now I shall go to him. The flower was true, for we shall meet — though beyond the seas. " With tears in her eyes, the nurse went to the window. There in the garden was the flower, with its regular, velvety petals, standing tall and proud among its stiff green leaves — and the flower was scarlet! Jane McIlhenny.
Page 91 text:
ebr rmiuarii in HJar atmrii r WAS ill the fall of 1863. ' midst the cannon ' s roar and the tramp, tramp of the soldier boys, that our courageous prin- cipal started her bold undertaking. We in these better days can scarcely appreciate the difficulties attending such an enterprise. To provide board and fuel for so great a number at a time when flour sold at twenty-five dollars a barrel, and bacon at a dollar a pound, was a problem not easily solved. All the long summer days were spent in laying in supplies, and by dint of unceasing perseverance, together with the aid of kindly friends, when autumn returned, a sufficient store had been collected to keep the wolf from the door, for a time, at least. The trouble, though, did not end here. The provisions were in possession, but how to keep them? Staunton in those days was a great depot for army supplies, and was consequently alive with soldiers wearing both the blue and the gray. The former ' s proclivities for appropriating all the goods and chattels of their Southern foes, especially the contents of the larder, was a fact thoroughly within the grasp of a school girl ' s mind. Accordingly, when that dread cry, " The Yankees! " went forth, down dropped every book and out rushed every girl. The wood pile, then just outside the present parlor window, there being no other back yard, claimed attention first, a soldier ' s weakness in that line being proverbial. The girl would seize upon a log of wood, put one end on each shoulder, and off they ' d go to deposit it in the dark and hidden precincts of the cellar. Many hands made quick work, and soon there was no trace of a wood pile save a few scattered chips. By stratagem which would have rendered a general famous, many bar- rels of flour had been procured, and deep and anxious were the debates as to the safest hiding place for the precious possession. At the suggestion of a bright-eyed little maiden, each girl draped a barrel in one of her skirts — crinolines were then in favor — making thus a dainty dressing table for every room. But, alas! there were more barrels than rooms. Accordingly, the con- tents of the remaining ones were sewed up in a tick and did duty as a bed. When the tramp of the blue coats was heard, the thinnest girl in school — and it is said she was the only thin one — chalked her face to a ghastly white and got into her bed of flour. As Miss Baldwin ushered a Federal ofP.cer into the
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