Cass City High School - Perannos Yearbook (Cass City, MI)

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the pelting rain. The thunders crash, the lightnings flash. Giant waves roll high 'mid the din and confusion. A mighty wave looms up. The frail boat is overtaken. Up, up, up it rises 'till for one brief moment I see it poised high upon the foamy, crested billow. Now it is about to be hurled down into the dark abyss of eternal chaos. In that moment I see there a figure kneeling with face fear-stricken and hands clasped Heavenward. He sends out his appeal, but only to be caught up by the rushing wind and swirling water. A cry of anguish! Does no one hear it? Yes, some one hears it, for God hears. Then as if by magic the wave passes almost gently 'neath, and the little boat is left to rock peacefully in the cradle of the deep. The storm is over. Light breaks through upon the scene. The winds die down and the angry waves become still. Then as the mist rolls away, there he lies afloat on a beautiful haven, the harbor of the once far away isle. But the boy is no more, for his form is now bent, his hair is grey. As he sits there in quiet ease, he again peers into the water. But this time he looks not beneath the surface for beauty but instead, his gaze falls upon the surface. He sees the rising and falling swells and the still smaller ripples. He watches them and follows them eagerly as they pass on and on, and out 'mid the larger waves. They counted after all. Thus he muses. And now soft twilight shades creep round about. The sun sinks lower in the west. The day is nearly spent. The man arouses from his stupor and looks about. He sees the end of the day at hand. Behind him he sees the billowy course o'er which he has fought his way. In front lay the peaceful isle. Yes, he sees the fast darkening shadows, the drooping, once sun- basked, flowers that border the brook, the trees and birds. And he imagines he sees sprightly fairy forms dance in and out the shady nooks. Yes, and they beckon him on and irresistably he answers the call. With only a back- ward glance he gently dips the oar. A smile alights upon his face. At last-and then he glides across the bar. I stir and awake. The last lone spark has died from the fireplace. I arouse myself and struggle to recall-ah yes, I remember now. I had dreamed, and in my dream I had seen a life in its youthful gayety, a life's struggle, and in its passing to the great beyond. There my dream had ended. Why? Why could I see no farther? But alas, poor mortal that I am, I too must watch and wait. Ray E. Yakes. '14

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A Erram nf an Alumnus The shades are drawn, the light burns low. 'Tis my hour of medita- tion. I sit alone in my dimly lighted chamber, grimly silent, peering aim- lessly into the dying embers of a friendly fireplace. Even so, and then I count to ten the silv'ry chimes of the old town clock, as they peal out across the still and quiet night. And then I sink into a listless, sombre reflection -thinking-musing-dreaming, as the shadows flit and play upon the walls. Thus is my solitude. And then the soft magnetic light of those ruddy coals, the encircling srell. Begone, ye lurking fantasies, away with your ensnaring intrigues! But alas, thicker than ever they come. I rub my eyes, but in vain. And then, as my drooping lids wax tight, I'm borne away to that quaint old land of nod. In the transition I become as a vast theatre audience. Before me is a snow white screen. The play is on. I see the numerous scenes and fleet- ing pictures. Oh yes, the first is a woodland scene. Beautiful flowers and foliage strew the ground 'neath the great, giant trees. A gentle breeze stirs the air and birds flit here and there in the radiant dashes of sunshine. Then in comes the boy, the destroyer. The ligl't of battle shines in his eyes. He is playing soldier. He wields a cudgel anfl spends his assumed fury upon weeds and flowers that happen within his reach. Now he laughs gleefully as he views his rath of destruction. But suddenly he grows serious. Perhaps he thinks of mother: perhaps she needs him. Then a sudden bright idea hits him. and he plucks from the f-'round a dandelion, which once was beautiful. but now is merely a snow-white ball. Twice does he blow his breath against it. sending the feathery seeds flying hither and thither. But still almost half remain. and only one more trial. This time he assembles all his strength and blows with might and main. The very Heavens seem to lend fury to the blast, and lo, a mere bare stem is left within his grasp. He clasps his hands in ecstasy, for mother doesn't need him, so then he rambles on. The scene changes, and now I see him as he stands on the shore of the sea. He is much larger now and older. The shades of boyish unconcern no longer play upon his face. In his youthful wanderings along the path of his visions he has met a barrier, the sea. Out there in the dim horizon of deepening twilight he sees a beautiful isle, the isle 'Somewhere' A look of determination flits across his handshaded brow. He is going to that island. I see him launch his boat and paddle out across the sea. On and on he goes 'till suddenly he happens to look down into the clear cool water. In a moment he sees the beauty of the deep. There were shells, glittering stones and gems, and miniature castles. He becomes deeply interested, almost entranced. But as he admires he forgets. forgets his journey's end, forgets his visions. And then the sky grows dark. He looks around and sees the danger, but Ah, too late. In a moment the storm is upon him. Fierce gusts of wind precede

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Uhr illanh nf ilinat Efhingn It had been a dull day for the occupants of the Land of Lost Things. There had been no new arrivals as yet and the old dwellers had told and retold their experiences until none would listen longer. The scene was a peculiar one. Articles of every description mingled there from a soiled and worn, wax doll to a set of false teeth. One would think that in such an as- sortment life would be gay and happy, but it was not so. A small rubber ball was rolling here and there and sadly wailing, Oh, if only Bobbie were here to toss me up and down again ! A memorandum book was striving to prove to a glass eye, which stolidly gazed into space, that it was of greater importance than a letter, which had arrived on the previous day. The scissors and tape line walked arm in arm, taking comfort in thought of former days spent as laborers in a noble trade, while a pair of gloves vainly sought to grasp a jackknife and spoon. From a distance came the faltering notes of a mouth-organ playing the Psalm of Life to the last memories that were flitting hither and thither. But back in the midst of the con- fusion came a gentle rapping for admission to this mysterious region. Immediately an umbrella arose and stepped into an old shoe, which with dignified tread carried it to the huge gates. Then the doorkey climbed to the top of the umbrella and crept into the key-hole. Just a slight click and the gates swung open to admit a pair of gold rimmed spectacles and a meerschaum pipe of ancient date. Welcome to our land ! was the unanimous cry which greeted the strangers as they stretched over the threshold. The umbrella rapped for attention and spoke thus, Comrades, our new friends have no doubt a story to tell us, so let us give respectful attention. Ah, ours is a sad tale indeed! answered the pipe and the spectacles answered approval. The pipe continued, Our owner is an old gentleman, who has seen better and happier days. Once he was a wealthy merchant but misfortune came his way and he lost all his horde and has only enough left to keep him the rest of his life. He is a stern old fellow. But friends, interrupted the spectacles, Do not be deceived. He is one of the kindest-hearted men in the world, always ready to help any of his fellowmen in need, indeed, his generosity caused his disaster. I for one am sorry to be separated from him. Yes, and so am I, exclaimed the pipe as it resumed its story. He has very few friends left and the most of his time is spent in solitude with his pipe or his books and now that we are gone, he will be at a loss to know what to do. But how did you stray away ? inquired the umbrella. That is easily explained, said the pipe. Last evening the old man fell asleep at his reading and we both dropped upon the floor. When he awoke, he had forgotten about us and went to bed. About midnight a large rat started his wanderings about the room and came upon us. Now, what could you do in such a predicament for he was larger than my friend or I? So he carried us away and I'm very sure the old gentleman will miss