Charlotte High School - Delphian Yearbook (Charlotte, MI)

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN I want to see the doctor, Peter. I ' ll be back soon, his voice was harsh now with past grievances. No, no, I want j ' ou to stay. Please, father. You had better humor him; perhaps he will go to sleep soon. There is no time to consider ourselves — if, she added in a low tone, we are to save him. He nodded, then quietly sat down by the bed. His heart was leaping at her nearness and at the unconscious use of that little word we. Then his face hardened and his jaws clicked determinedly as he thought of all the pain she had caused him. It was five years ago that she had told him they could never be happy together while he was making and then ruining men in his business. Five years of sol- itude and unhappiness — yet, here she was in this very house to wliich he had planned to bring her as his wife. A week passed by in this way — a week of strained , relations for these two, yet in one thing they were of the same purpose — the sav- ing of Peter ' s life. This was their anxiety over Peter, for he had grown very dear to them both in the past few months. The crisis will come touight, the doctor had said and so they settled themselves for the long vigil. Midnight came and over the sleeping city the bells rang in the new year. What happi- ness and joy he might have looked forward to, was David Ames ' thought as, with bowed head, he listened to the last note die away. Then for the first time in years, the master of many another man ' s fate prayed to his Maker. What if he should lose Peter now, just when he had come to love him, and what if he should lose Judith again, too. Money could not buy hap- piness, she had been right — God ' s plan did not work that way. Breathlessly they watched over the little fellow as he lay there in a stupor. He aroused and looked questioningly at the three faces bending over him. Good night, father. Tomorrow we v ill have our party. Don ' t let Rose-Lady go away, will you? Then upon receiving the man ' s promise he sighed happily, closed his eyes and soon dropped into a quiet, natural sleep. He will live, was the doctor ' s brief ver- dict and with a few whispered directions he left. As David wearily rose from his chair he met Judith ' s eyes full of love and understanding. Dear, I promised Peter I would keep his Rose-Lady, he said softly. David! The first rosy tints of dawn showed in the sky when they at last stole softly from the bedside of the sleeping child. That dawn of a new day — of a new year ! The Artist (By LiUian E. Howard.) He had the artistic temperament. His fea- tures were finely chiseled and his mouth sensi- tive and in his dark eyes there glowed at times a spark of that celestial fire which Prometheus stole so long ago from the abode of the im- mortals. And he played that most divine of in- struments, the v iolin, very well for a boy, so well that in rare moments, heaven and earth seemed to vanish away and there was nothing left but harmony. He had great dreams of his future and in his boyhood days his head often whirled with .visions, visions of the time when he should be a great artist and win the adulation of brilliant throngs in far famed capitals, or a great com- poser whose melodies should live forever. The rainbow promise of his youth bade fair to be fulfilled, for he was sent to one of the best schools of music. But in the midst of his course there came a great calamity which darkened his sky and left to him no traces of Page twenty-five

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DELPHIAN, C. H. 8. NINETEEN SIXTEEN Down to th ' settlement house. Will you take me there? James, order the ear. In a few minutes they were speeding away toward the settlement house. That ride seemed the longest David Ames had ever taken. As they drew up at the curb a cold hand seemed to grip the man ' s heart, for there stood an ambulance with all its dreadful suggestion of sickness and death. Were they too late? Had he let this poor little soul go when by more thoughtfulness and kindness he might have prevented its flight? The white uni- formed attendants appeared bearing the quiet and apparently lifeless little form on a stretch- er. Fear held David Ames silent for a moment, then he approached one of the men, and, with a trembling voice, asked Is he — gone? Somehow he could not bring himself to the ut- terance of that awful word — dead. No, but he is very sick. W e are just tak- ing him to the hospital. I ' m interested in that boy, will you take him to my home instead of the hospital? Then as the man hesitated a moment in inde- cision he added roughly, He will have good care. I can get a doctor and nurse there as soon as you can. For the second time that day the big house, which was usually so quiet and gloomy, was all confusion. What has struck Mr. David? He hasn ' t been like this in years, James asked as he helped the cook fill a tray for the doctor. Perhaps this boy in the house will do him good, she replied hopefully, but there was a skeptical smile on James ' face. The doctor came out of the sick-room and the man who had been nervously pacing the hall, turned to him quickly. I am sorry, Mr. Ames, to have to trouble you but this nurse won ' t do. The boy keeps calling for his Rose-Lady, as he has named the settlement nurse. I ' m afraid we will have to send for her for he must not be excited in any way. Have I your permission? Certainly, Doctor, spare no pains or money in saving him. The boy ' s life had suddenly become very dear to him. As the doctor started to leave the man found himself saying eagerly but with a queer choke in his throat, Will he live. Doctor? Well, its hard to say as yet but I think he has a chance. If he only had a stronger constitution but he is half-starved besides the exposure to the cold. However, we will do our best and I take it that if good care and love can do it he will get well. You may go in and see him if you wish. Well, Peter, this is a great way to cele- brate Christmas. What about our party? I ' m awful sorry, Mr. Ames, but honest I couldn ' t help it, and the child reached out a hand to his friend. When will my Rose-Lady come? I want her to sing to me like she did last night. She will soon be here, Peter. Could I tell you a story instead? he asked just a bit jeal- ovisly. Would you? I ' d like it. Do you know, Mr. Ames, you would make a dandy father. Why haven ' t you any boys? I have, now. You are going to be my little boy Peter, and when you get well we will have the most fun together. Do you really want me, and may I call you father? Yes, yes, of course you must call me that. Now close your eyes and we will have the story. ' ' So the Rose-Lady found them when she came softly in. David — you! she exclaimed sharply. Judith. Oh, do you know my Rose-Lady, father? As he received no answer Peter asked again. ' ' Rose-Lady do you know my father ? ' ' Your what? Then remembering his crit- ical condition she answered hastily, Yes, dear, I do. Now let ' s try to sleep, but in spite of her brave effort the soft voice would tremble a little. The man silently crossed the room to the door. Oh, you mustn ' t go, father, I want you to hear Rose-Lady sing. Page twenty-four

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DELPHIAN, C. H. 8. NINETEEN SIXTEEN its rainbow tints. He was forced to return home and t ake np the burden of supporting his mother and his younger sister. He began the work of teaching music rather bitterly, for this was not his destiny. He was meant to be a darling of the gods, not a hum- drum teacher of the violin, with anxiety about the fuel and the rent, hanging like the sword of Damocles above his head. At first he felt that he could yet compose, and occasionallj he caught faint snatches of a mystic melody. But they were more and more indistinct, and finally he heard them no more. They were drowned by the jangling discords of his life. But in that darkest hour which always pre- cedes the dawn, there was born to him out of the travail of the passing years a vision. It was dim and indistinct at first but gradually it grew clearer and brighter until he could follow it like a guilding star. And he knew that from his 0 ' ai spirit and his own life he could evoke siieh harmonies as had never yet been called forth from a violin, no, not were it the finest that had ever come from the workshop of a Stradivarius. And so he began to practice these new melodies of the spirit, but he found them hard to master, harder than the most difficult of compositions for his violin. For they were the melodies of unselfishness, of love, of the return of good for evil, of sweetness and serenity amid the clashing din of human life. But the difficulties did not daunt him and he persevered and became more and more pro- ficient with every passing year. The way grew brighter and the path less thorny all the time, and he discovered that to teach rightly is to give, and that only those who give taste the purest joy that man can know. He was becom- ing an artist now in that finest of all the arts, the art of living. And behold! He heard again those other melodies of yore, and one day he wrote a beau- tiful song which touched the hearts of thou- sands and which made him famous. But what mattered to him now the plaudits of the world 1 He had heard the music of the stars. For His Colleen (By Adelaide Hart, ' IS.) Mrs. Mulhany smiled genially in the late autumn sun. Her ' s was a smile of good-fellow- ship and happy disregard of the conventional- ities involved in the naeeting of strangers. She was placidly talking to the lady who occupied the seat next her on the bleachers regardless of the haughty glances of the lady and the amused smiles of those about her. Shure an autumn day is a lovely tii e to be a-bringin ' of a woman loike me from her house- hol d duties to watch a fisht full of crazy ga- loots chase the length of the field with a ball and thin be afallin ' on one another as if it ' twas made of gold, instead of bein ' composed of the same material as me old pig, Pat. Shure a lot of humans act the same as that same crit- ter. Many a pig ' s hid ' hind of a two-legged, smilin ' -faced nonentity that the Lor ' s origin- ally intended for somethin ' else to be placed on another planet, but got mixed in the rush. Whist or I ' ll box yer ears, can ' t yez hear me a- talkin ' with the lady ; where ' s yer manners ? There, Kathleen, O ' Shaughnessy will save you some; if you don ' t, you young spalpeen, I ' ll turn yes over my knee and make ye sing. This whole speech was made in one breath, the last part with cuffs and jerks at a young, jolly, red-headed, freckled-faced culprit, mingled with pats and mothering glances at a weak little girl in her lap. Today Mrs. Mulhany was out on parade ; green feathers adorned her cocky hat, a coat of the revoluntionary period hung about her matronly form in folds, and the smile which she bestowed upon the earth in general and her son in particular, warmed the otherwise chilly landscape as the rays of the sun, while her hearty words seemed as a jolly norther, crisp, full of comradeship and love. At her side sat a meek little man, trying hard to keep Page twenty-six