Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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THE REVEILLE THE VIGIL. By Henry W. Lif The night of ` vigil! How important, how full of meaning аге these few words, which stand for so much in the life of the young man striving to attain that far off goal—knighthood. How wonderful they sound, representing as they do the last of the long series of duties before the attainment of knighthood. The night of the vigil! With awe, the page repeats the words, for his “Night of the Vigil” appears to him aeons and aeons away. The squire speaks of his “Night of the Vigil” with hopeful expectations, for soon he, too, will have to think of that important duty. The young knight-on-the-morrow-to-be, however, repeats the words with reverence and thankfulness, for to him it is a reality. Such was the case with Roderick Owen. From the early morning, till now, near sunset, the day had been a busy one for him, for this com- ing night was his “Night of the Vigil.’ After his uncle, Sir James Owen, had addressed him on the duties and aspirations of knighthood, Roderick had gone through the “Order of the bath,” a solemn ceremony, during which he was examined by two old veteran knights as to his fitness for becoming a knight. He had then been clothed » a red robe symbolical of the blood he might be called upon to shed in defense of the oppressed, a black, tight gown representing the meters of death to be solved hereafter, and last, a snow-white tunic symbolical of his purity. Now, he was awaiting the moment when he was to be escorted by the priests into the bez utiful chapel, where he was tø pass the night in prayer and in guarding his armour. At last, amid a splendor which seemed to herald the coming devo- tions, the sun went down and Roderick, his hands folded over his bosom, was led by the two solemn priests through the long deserted halls the castle to the chapel on the eastern side. “My son,” spoke the elder of the priests, as they paused before the entran е, “you are about to enter the ит: place of prayer. Have com- plete faith in thy Maker and beseech Him to guard and sustain thee in thy career as knight. Pray of Him to give the strength and courage to fight infidels and unbelievers, to make thee faithful to thy God and King, and to consecrate thy armour in the Holy Cause. The priests then opened the door and conducted Roderick to the altar, where with a “Fare thee well, my son,” they left him. For some time after the priests had left, Roderick stood motionless, then he slowly sank to his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer. He seemed to look over and beyond the altar as if it was there that he saw the All-Seeing God. His pale face was transfigured by the earnestness of his prayer, so that he looked like a heavenly being. To = Lord of the Universe, to the Former of Destinies, to the Heavenly Father he prayed, asking Him for guidance in his career as knight, and beseeching Him to strengthen his arm against Unbelievers and Oppres- sors of the Weak, to strengthen his mind against Temptation which might beset his path, to give him courage to do what was right, and to make him a true and faithful knight. Long and earnestly Roderick prayed, after which he rose and, pick- ing up the long pilgrim’s staff standing near the altar, he marched to and fro across the tiled floor of the chapel. It was then that he began to take notice of the beauty of the Holy Place. The crescent moon, shining faintly through the exquisitely stained glass windows, cast a shimmering glow over the tiled floor, while

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THE REVEILEE 9 bored to death by listening to what Harold and the rest of the sons did, thought or said, but because she had nothing better to do. had started for the center, intending to stop at the post office for etters and incidentally buy some new fishing tackle. The air was heavy storm, but both Ethel and her enemy disregarded пу warning and started out unprepared for it š thel had just reached the center when the storm broke and the rain ame down in torrents. She made for oe nearest shelter, which hap ,ened to be the post office doorway.” She was standing there at logger- reads with the world in general and he 6 іп particu tla ir when the door with the promise of : 1 | pened and out n arched Billie. Now Billie couldn’t r the temptation, and he spoke. То his sur- as a matter of course and answered him as if he was | just returned. friendly two people can become when they are stand- ing a orway waiting for a thunder-storm to stop. Billie admired Ethel because she didn’t shriek at every flash of lightning, and clutch at him when a particularly loud clap of е went pealing through the pines on the near-by mountains, His comment was, “Cool, all right.” She admired him because he дас no mention of Ше past unpleasant- ness, but simply ignored it he thought, “He’s not such a brute, after all.” By the time the storm had abated Ethel knew that Billie swore by Tennyson and Browning: she did, too; Pope was a horrid bore: just her opinion; he was very fond of boating: so was she; and when they reached home he knew all about her grievances against the village Brides and he had admitted that it was torture to him to listen to the Grooms sounding forth the praises of these selfsame Brides. He sug- gested that they form a Бонна e of two to hunt up а cure for the epi- demic, and she agreed. Things began to grow pleasanter after that, and the atmospheric conditions cleared up. Ethel played tennis with Billie; Billie took Ethel canoeing ; nisi sat together under the oaks and read Tennyson; and to- gether they climbed all the mountains in the neighborhood. Ethel was no longer сте {о desperation at the Sewing Circle, since she never had time to attend. Billie saw to that; and he no longer felt like doing something reckless when the Grooms talked of the wonderful girls they had been lucky enough to capture. Mentally he was comparing Ethel with them, and her charms far exceeded all of theirs. Time went on, and summer was giving way to autumn. Ethel was thinking of returning to the city, and Billie knew he had to get back to work. Their departure was a very few days away, and Billie had made Ethel promise she would write to him, as he would to her. The formal “Miss Walker” and “Mr. Reynolds” had long changed to “Billie” and “Ethel,” and each had admitted to the other that this summer had been the most enjoyable of any summer in their memory. The day before they were to leave the Brown cottage Ethel startled Fanny and her husband by bursting in upon them like a whirlwind. She held up her left hand, and there on the third finger glittered a diamond. Now Ethel had always vowed that when she accepted a ring for that finger she would accept none but an opal, and that she had a peculiar aversion to diamonds. Fanny wickedly reminded her of that vow when she recovered her breath, and Jack of course backed her up. “Well, Billie likes diamonds best, and he thinks that it is the only suitable stone for a ring for me, and Billie says that” and she wondered why they laughed.

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THE REVEILLE 11 the tall marble pillars on which rested the beautifully chisled stone arches cast indeterminable shadows over the tapestried walls. The stone effigies of saints standing around the walls seemed to have bowed their heads in prayer because of the holiness of the place. The waxen tapers on the wonderfully carved altar threw a faint circle of light around the shining heap of armour lying nearby, while from the incense burning in the golden cup suspended from the ceiling rose a cloud of sweet smelling vapour, which, penetrating the farthermost corners of the chapel, seemed allegorical of an earnest prayer ascending heavenward. lerick paused from his steady march to and fro, and stood iff, lost in thought. voven with his childhood days passed before his concen- ` a wonderful panorama. Неге is a scene which he could y It is a picture of his beautiful sainted mother bending ove! li e curly headed boy himself. 'The look of mother- love resting on her dear face gives her the appearance of a celestial being. She is teaching him his daily prayer, which he lisps after her with his childish lips. The scene changes. Again his beautiful mother appears, but now a dark shadow rests upon her countenance. She is taking farewell of his beloved father—her husband, who dressed in shining armour, his helmet surmounted by a waving red plume, must away to a far-off land to help his King. A last embrace, a kiss, and stern Duty, has torn a father from his home and family. Again the shifting of the scenes, and now Roderick sees a field of battle. In the distance can be seen the spires of the Holy City. A mighty host is gathered on that field. A sound of a bugle and those steel ‘clad men, with deathless resolve stamped on their pale brows, surge forward against the dark-visaged foe. A trampling of steeds, a clashing of ar- mour, a fearful turmoil,—a human maelstrom terrible in its intensity. Fight on! fight on! brave knights, for your God and King! The King? Holy St. George! The King is surrounded by foes. He will be killed. But wait. Who is it that stems the human tide as a ship does the sea? It is a knight dressed in glittering armor, whose helmeted head is sur- mounted by a waving red plume. He cuts his way through his foes to the succor of his King. With mighty blows he scatters his foes. The King is saved; but where is the brave knight? Scores of lances pierce. He talls, and the struggling tide sweeps over him. Yet again the scene changes. Now Roderick is in the castle of his birth. Again his mother appears. She is whispering to her little boy about her brave father in the wars. But why does that startled look pass over her countenance? Why does she rise and look anxiously into the starless night. The foreboding silence is broken by an ominous crackling. The room is filling with smoke. The castle is on fire. Now red tongues of flame leap high over the burning castle and now the treacherous besiegers raise their exultant shouts. The towers shake and tremble as a knight rushes into the burning castle and fights his way t« the mother and child. He grasps the boy and dashes out, but ere he can return the castle falls with a mighty crash. With a cry of anguish Roderick dropped to his knees before the altar. It seemed to him that this final scene had been enacted before his gaze, so real had it appeared. “My mother, my dear mother,” he groaned, “why did not Sir James, your brother, save thy life from the castle instead of mine?” “Father in Heaven,” he prayed, “give me strength to be a true knight,