Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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THE CAST OF THE SENIOR PLAY, 1916

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T H E D A R T 15 fCrttrra ij SECOND PRIZE STORY BY LOLA M. REMICK m O you believe lhat the reason the Germans are making such a strong drive against you at Verdun, is because their nerves have been so dulled by ether that they know no fear? I asked this question as a feeler, for I was working for a big human interest story for the Sunday supplement of my paper, The New York I imes. For months the papers had been filled with descriptions of military tactics, machine guns, and life in the trenches, all of which emphasized the statement that War is Hell. (The matter of fact English soldiers with whom I was talking, that of their part in the war in the same unromantic way that they had regarded their duties in the London offices, which they had left at their country’s call.] I had questioned in vain, in regard to deeds of heroism, thrills and sob stuff. These phlegmatic Englishmen had no desire for celebrity. As a last resort, 1 asked if there never was any romance connected with war. At this a slow smile spread over the faces of the soldiers, and then they burst into a hearty laugh. I noticed a young fellow who was called E. Rawdon, by his fellow soldiers. (I knew his name was Dick and had wondered at the E), who seemed to appreciate the apparent joke more than the others, and also seemed to be exceedingly embarrassed. Well, the joke is on me, and I guess it is up to me to tell it, he began. You can take it or leave it, but I think you will realize my feelings in the affair. “You see, one day, as some of us were conversing, mostly about the last attack, some fragments of cloth, paper and shavings came floating down by us. I his was nothing very unusual, for the packings of bombs often are blown long distances after the explosion. As I talked, I picked up a bit of newspaper, and casually read the words: Societv wel- comes the opening of a new country place at Bar Harbor this week by Frances Manning, well known in society circles. I remarked how exceedingly interesting was this bit of news, and passed the paper around. I hat was the beginning of the end, for someone, I can’t tell who, (lucky for them) suggested that Dick Rawdon write to the young society belle and thereby create a love romance. It didn’t take much urging, for with my love of excitement, I thot it would be an interesting adventure and it was interesting all right! 1 he first letter I wrote read something like this: My Dear Miss Manning: I am a poor but distinguished Englishman, serving my country in the war. I learned from a newspaper article that I happened to pick up that you have opened a new country home at Bar Harbor. Now, I know you will take pity on a poor lonesome soldier, and make me happy by writing to me. Address, Dick Rawdon, Regiment 3, before Verdun. Well, as soon as an answer could be expected, one came. It was a very nice little note, short but sweet, saying that she was interested in soldiers and would like very much to hear from me again. And you can bet that it wasn’t long before she did. I he brief formal notes gradually led to a steady correspondence. Her letters were lovely, and enough to make anyone fall in love with her. And that is just what I did. or thot I did. Each time her letters were more intimate, and in reply to an unusually friendly one, I wrote something like this: Dearest Frances: You have made me so happy. Your letters

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T H E are the only ray of joy in my life. Since you, tho unseen, have entered my life, the sun has shone for me, the stars have appeared for me, and the moon has risen for me. I think of you by day and dream of you by night. Your dear face (which I have never seen) is before me always. Now, dearest, it is with trembling hand and heart that I write these words: Will you be my wife? Some day this war will be over, and then, with you as my own, the clouds will vanish forever. Waiting ar.d praying. I am. Your Dick. I he next days were agony for me. Would she accept me? She must care for me. for those wonderful letters! It was not long before I received the wonderful (?) answer, written on the business paper of brands Manning Company, and contained the laconic reply: Dear Dick: “Not E but I.” Ar.d that is why I am called E. Rawdon. “The Senior Play” Playing to two splendid audiences in the new High School auditorium, the Senior class of 1916 successfully presented the college drama. ‘At the End of the Rainbow. In view' of the fact that this play is especially hard to produce owing to the great amount of taler.t required and also because of the small number in the class, the Seniors are to be complimented on their work. At the End of the Rainbow” is so well balanced as to parts that each one taking part was given an equal chance to show his or her ability, and there can be no distinctions made, as each member of the cast performed wonderfully well. Music was also introduced, and the four musical specialties added greatly to the beauty of the play. The cast was coached by Mrs. M. J. Warren, who needs no introduction to Ashtabula audiences, and to her a great deal of credit should be given, for Mrs. Warren realizes what an audi- I) A R T 17 ence wants, and is able to get it from her cast. Prom the two performances $325.00 was realized, and this money will be turned in together with that of the class of 19 I 5 for the purchase of the scenery for the stage. The Senior class feels that they have received loyal support from the people of Ashtabula at both of the productions and wish the classes to come as great a success or even greater than we have enjoyed this year. Metrical Translation Book IV, Line 457-474. Martha H. Stone 16 Also, there was in her household A shrine to her dear dead husband, A shrine bound with fillets and garlands, Which she was accustomed to worship. Here, when night held the world in deep darkness. Came the voice and the form of her husband, While the horned owl's loud lamentation Echoed thruout the high archways. And the ancient predictions of prophets Roused fear by their terrible warning. E’en in slumber, this very Eneas Ruthlessly increased her raging. Forever she seemed one deserted. Alone she made tiresome journeys. Seeking her Tyrian subjects In a land without habitation. Just so had Pentheus demented Seen the line of terrible Furies. Visitor’s Day Visitor's day in A. H. S. was a big success. I he parents of the students and the general public were invited to visit our new building and get an idea as to how we work in our new home. Hundreds of people visited the building during the two days and w ere very much impressed by the beauty and serviceability of the building, it was our first formal opening to the public and we students feel that our fathers and mothers can now realize why we are so enthusiastic about our school, and why we intend to out-stride every school in the state.