Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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THE ECHO But when he saw the sweepy hair Girt with a crown of berries rare, Beholding this, he did not dare Approach that threshold in the sun, Assault the old king smiling there. Such grace had kings when the world was young.” “°Tis God’s voice calls, how could I stay.” And Luigi went—to Free- dom, to his duty. “T, tonight at least, would be Monsignor, that holy and beloved priest. Such had been the little silk maid’s fancy at the dawn. That New Year’s night the good Monsignor sat in the Bishop’s palace. His brother, the Bishop, was dead, yet his trusted attendant still lived; lived to tell of the perfidy of both master and menial. ‘And what had become of died that a fortune might pass from master to the Bishop’s child? Had it man? “No; ‘tis but a little, black-eyed, gay, silk-winding girl. Sir, I will make way with her for you. Is it a bargain?” hrough the window admitting of the waning light, float- Softly, sweetly, t “Suddenly God took me,” closed the song. ed the words of a young girl's. The good Monsignor lifted both voice and hand. A rush, a struggle, a hush ;—a villain lay dead outside Monsignor’s door! New’s Year’s day was done. Both Pippa’s songs and her fancies must maid entered her room that night, she close with the day. Yet, as the little wondered about the Happiest Four in Asola. “Now, one thing I should really like to know, How near ever might approach all these I only fancied being—this long day. pproach, I mean, so as to touch them,—so As to, in some way, move them, if you please, Do good or evil to them some slight way; Though I passed by them all and felt no sign.” Dear little Pippa! She did not know that her sweet, pure songs had wrongs of the Happiest Four in Asola. She rae | roused the right from the stifling did not even know that they had heard while she lived in fancy, through morn, noon, eve, and night, as the 1er songs as she passed, pouring out her joy Happiest Four in Asola. “God bless me! I can pray no more tonight. No doubt, some way or other, my hymn says right. ‘All service is the same with God— With God, whose puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first.’ ” Pippa slept. Her happy New Year’s day had not be squandered! [Page seventeen]

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THE ECHO less fair. They knew why he lay stiff and cold—their hands had done the deed. Ottima, one of the Happiest Four in Asola! Just then a fresh, young voice broke in upon their passionate words with her dainty song: “The year’s at the spring, nd day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hillside’s dew pearled; The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in His heaven— ll’s right with the world!” “Oh! ’tis that little, ragged girl. She must have rested on the step. She stoops to pick my heartsease,” cried Ottima. “God’s in his heaven!” cried the man beside her. “The little peasant’s voice has righted all again. I see what I have done. God’s in his heaven!” A repentant sinner replaced the man of crime. “Tis noon. I shall be Bridegroom and Bride. I shall be Jules and Phene 5 : happy in their love.” Yet bridegroom and bride were not happy in their love. False friends of Jules, the artist, had in treachery, played him a dastardly trick, and his bride, with the snow-white face and raven hair, disclosed their envious hate, on her bridal day. The bridegroom was sw earing his deep revenge when a child’s voice rang in a sweet, glad strain. The voice of the weaver, in her fancy, was gay as she carolled of love. Then the little maiden passed. But re heart of the Bridegroom was melted, and revenge was turned to trust. = “Now it is eve and I shall be Luigi, who loves his mother so well. It I only knew what was my mother’s face—my father’s, too!” thought the lit- e maid. In a turret, Luigi sat with his mother. Unknown to them, spies were a watching what he might do. Should he leave before night for Vienna, well and good. Should he remain, there was but one way to deal with traitors. His mother, loving the sight of her only son, begged her Luigi to remain with her, for his duty away was a dangerous one. In the midst of her plea an eaget young voice sang clearly: “A king lived long go In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now. Before his palace in the sun He sate, to see his people pass And judge them every one. ’Tis said a python came one day, With jorky tongue and eye on flame, Where the old king sate to judge alway. [Page sixteen]

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“he Dawn of a New Day EW YEAR’S eve had come again. ‘The little hall beneath he redwoods fairly beamed with mirth and laughter. About he room were groups of both young and middle-aged, anxious for the dance to commence. At one end, on a little ylatform, a heating stove, red-hot with its efforts, success- fully battled with the cold air of the winter night. On the same platform, but a little to one side, a man tuned a violin. He was a stranger who had happened into this out-of-the-way place. He had a jovial way about him that won the hearts of the young people. Outside, a cold, white coat covered the earth, and a biting wind, exulting in its strength, whistled through the trees. Everything else was silent. The moon, shining between the passing clouds, seemed to shiver as her silver rays fell upon the white blanket protecting the tender plants and bushes from the frosty air. Tottering through the snow, a figure approached the building. It was an old man, with gray hair and a long, flowing beard. The fire in the once bright eyes was now dim. Beneath the old black overcoat that covered his figure, he clasked a precious violin. As he neared the hall, he suddenly stop- ped. Disappointment, sorrow, pain, all in turn, covered his countenance. He staggered, caught himself, leaned heavily against the sheltered side of a tree. A great tear rolled down his cheek, for the picture of former years passed before him. Me saw a group of men clearing a small patch of land beneath stately reawoods. Lumber was hauled and an assembly hall built. One, the leader, was always cheerful and happy. It was his former self. In another picture he saw the same figure, but older now. He was playing a violin, while the crowds danced. Here, the old man started toward the building, but halted before a window. He searched the faces of those within. There were none that he had seen in the first picture. He looked again and saw few faces seen in the second picture. He was numb with cold, but he would not intrude. They had forgotten him, and had chosen a violinist, who couly play later and more popular music. As the aged musician listened, a sob burst from his lips. It was not the music, filled with purity and simplicity, that had always been played in the little hall. Heartbroken, he returned to his little cabin, nestling near the side of a brook. He was greeted by his only companion, an old hound, which, like his master, was growing feeble with age. Tears rolled from the old man’s eyes as the faithful animal, his one remaining friend, licked his hands. Throw- ing a chunk into the fire, he watched it burn and waited for the midnight hour. He was growing weak, but he still might play on his old violin, and welcome the New Year, as he had done so many times before. It was midnight. The cuckoo clock sent forth its farewell to the passing twelve months. The New Year victories took the place of the old. The little hall echoed with laughter and wishes of a “Happy New Year”; but in a small, time-worn cabin, all was silent, save the low murmur of the wind and the trickling of the nearby brook. The life on earth had flown with the old year, but the dawn f the New Year brought eternal peace. [Page eighteen]