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Page 16 text:
14 THE TARGET " By my halidom! ' Tis strange I am so harassed, " he exclaimed, and frowning, turned back to the dining hall. Here a new surprise awaited him; the room before so brilliantly lighted was now in darkness save for the moonlight which streamed through the barred windows. As he hesitated in angry wonder on the threshold, the sound of a lute reached his ears and a sweet voice singing the words of a love song. Then he saw the object of his dreams, a slender figure in a carved chair by the window. Clad in white, with jewels flashing in hair and gown, she looked almost wraith-like in the moonlight. But even that white glow could not dim the brightness of her starry eyes nor change the crim- son of her lips. Her teeth flashed in a smile at his look of dismay, and to the accompaniment of the lute she sang: " Love is a will-o ' -the-wisp that lures. Ah, but ' tis passing sweet. Follow it, lad, if thy faith endures, Follow with flying feet, For ' tis sweet, sweet, bitter and sweet, Sweeter than all things sweet. " " Aye, that I will, lady fair, " cried Gagain, and leaped suddenly forward, arms outstretched to grasp her; but his fingers closed on nothing, for she had sprung unheeding to the window ledge, a quaint, ghostly figure, a very spirit of moonlight, she stood, and sang on. " Wait, I am coming! " But she did not wait. While the last note quiv- ered on the air she vanished into the night. Gawain leaped after her, plun- ging into the abyss of silver moon- light. Down, down, down, he fell. ijf. " dp. . " Jp. With a start he awoke. Before, the way still simmered in the blazing sun- light. " F faith! what a dream, " he ex- claimed, stretching stiffly in his ar- mor. " Farewell to dreams; they ' ve played me tricks enough, I trow. " He rose and swung into his saddle. Turning his horse ' s head toward Ca- melot, he rode slowly, his eyes bent on the ground. Then, suddenly rous- ing himself from his reverie, he spurred his horse to a gallop. " ' Od ' s wounds! I go no further on this quest. It pleaseth me not; back to Camelot I go, where maids are more substantial if less fair. " So rec- onciled, he was soon lost from sight. CAROL EBERTS, ' 09. Reprinted from ' The Aegis " of No- vember, 1911. THE ILL-FATED BARUNDA BIRD (A Fable from the Sanskrit) Creatures that have two separate necks Which differ when they dine, W ill die like a Barunda bird, Unless the necks combine. In a certain pond hereabout there lived birds called Barundas. They had a single stomach and two necks apiece. Now as one of these birds was wandering about at its own sweet will, one of its necks got some am- brosia somewhere. " Give me half, " said the second neck. But the first refused. Then the second neck was angry and found some poison some- where and ate it. So the bird died, because it had a single stomach. MARGARET BUCKHAM, ' 04.
Page 15 text:
THE TARGET 13 Main O ' Dreams Through the warm scented air of a cloudless June day, Sir Gawain, mounted on a coal black charger, rode down the broad highway which led from Camelot -to his Castle of the Crags. " ' Oil ' s wounds! " he grumbled be- tween snatches of song, " this mid- day blistereth ! Would I had ne ' er set out upon this quest that I begged our Lord Arthur to grant me. Sooner would I follow the deer in the cool, dim aisles of the forest; aye, or pur- sue some fair maiden through moon- lit paths of my lady queen ' s rose garden. Why, oh why didst thou leave Camelot, Gawain thou fool! " With a softly muttered oath, the knight flung himself from his saddle and sank upon the cool grass in the shade of an old elm. The way sim- mered dustily in the blazing sunlight. " And thou hast come all this dis- tance because of a dream. Ah, but what a dream! What lustrous eyes and mocking lips like the red pome- granate flower, that beckoning snow- white hand, that silvery laugh ming- ling like the rippling of a woodland stream with the sweet music of her voice. And these things I dreamed to see in the frowning, gray old court- yard of my castle. Heigh-ho! a good- ly distance traveled in search of my Maid o ' Dreams. But if the dream be true " Once more he mounted to the sad- dle and with a blithe song on his lips, galloped onward tow r ard the distant goal. At eventide he reached his castle and with his sword-hilt knocked on the heavy gate. " Open! ' Tis thy master, Gawain. Open at once, " he cried. The gate swung wide, the drawbridge fell with a clang and the young knight rode with a clatter of hoofs into the court- yard. There were his few servants and retainers drawn up to welcome him. He flung his bridle to the groom as he dismounted and turned abruptly to the porter. " Hast been entertaining a maiden in the castle whilst I was absent? A maiden young and fair to look upon? " " A maiden, sire? " The porter ' s mouth fell agape. Gawain laughed and swung away toward the hall of the castle. " Thou ' rt a sly fellow, " he called back, and laughing the more disap- peared in the shadow of tht doorway. Shaking his head sadly, the porter returned to his lodge. In the great dining hall lit by many torches sat Sir Gawain alone, attired in crimson velvet and gold. " Bah! " he muttered, " dream maiden indeed! Quests! By Our Fair Lad , back to Camelot I go this very night ' " Oh, not to-night. " The sweet voice mingled with rippling laughter came from the hall. The voice of the dream maiden! With a bound Gawain reached the doorway and pushed aside the dusty curtains just in time to see a maiden ' s figure running down the dim hall. Without a second ' s hesitation he darted in pursuit. The mocking laugh- ter drifting back to his ears, made him tingle with desire to catch the elusive damsel before him. Out into the moonlit courtyard she sped, and after her, Gawain. Then he stopped in dismay; she had disap- peared!
Page 17 text:
THE TARGET 15 Just A Glimpse A rare old manuscript, somewhat browned by time, and neatly tied with a bit of gold-colored ribbon, re- cently came into our possession. We opened it with interest and found it to be the carefully written essay of Marie Riley, who was a member of the class of 1902, which held its simple graduation exercises in room four of McKinley school, and con- sisted of thirty-nine boys and girls, pupils of Miss Eleanor Smith. The following extract is just a bit taken from this review of the Eighth grade work of the class: " As we recall the hours spent in the school room, and dream of the happy past, strange forms appear before us. What is this dark-robed figure dart- ing here and there, richly dressed In clauses, phrases, and sentences, with flowing locks bound by conjunc- tions? " ' Grammar! stand you forth and give reasons for the torture j ' ou have caused us! ' " ' Torture I have caused you ! Rather pleasure. Hoav could you give the synopsis in the second person sin- gular, solemn style, passive, inter- rogative, negative, or conjugate any verb in the English language without me? Little you may now realize what I have done for you, but as you grow wiser you will recall how T shared with you, rather than you with me! ' " But who is this tern man of for- bidding aspect that now approaches? He is dressed in Arabic costume, his head ornamented with a wreath of decimals. He stoops to pick up an apothem that hs dropped from his hand, and see, he has under his arm a bundle of Partial Payments, Stocks, and Prisms, and I verily believe he is slyly chewing. " I can endure no more! ' Hence, vul- gar fraction of a man! Begone, and at your own multiplication table mas- ticate alone your cube and square roots. ' " How we have sunk this year — up scale and down scale, sharps and flats, bass and tenor, high soprano and con- tralto; sometimes on the key, and sometimes off, with high notes and low notes, round notes and full notes, yea, and cracked notes, all with an accompaniment of jangling keys, not to speak of hemi-demi-semi-quavers. But oh! the joy of it all! " On rainj ' days we hold receptions in the halls, but the teachers often have to act rather as guardians of the peace, than as the reception commit- tee. On sunshiny days we jump rope in the yard. We can all jump French, Dutch, and Spanish, but foreign rope is not allowed as our principal thinks that English is the foundation of a good education. A high fence sepa- rates the girls ' yard from the boys ' but in spite of this barrier their base- balls fly over faster than we can throw them back. Some of the girls are fine pitchers from such continual practice. " Some days, when we return from our luncheon, we hear of great times having gone on in the teachers ' lunch room when Mr. Aitkin, the sculptor, or some other important personage, is being entertained. We
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