Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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of Memories thoughtful, suggestive, often stimulating. He had a real gift of silence. It expressed comment, approbation, reproof, applause. His friendly solicitude was extended to animals also. At one time a visitor was having difficulty in trying to keep his too devoted dog from following him into the house. The host, however, said, No, no, he doesn't want to wait out in the cold, while we are in here enjoying ourselves. Let him stay. I always like a good dog. The dog seemed to understand, and trustingly settled himself at the feet of the kind gentleman who inter- ceded in his behalf. Thus Grover Cleveland radiated kindness, while he held righteousness the one law of the world, and lifted higher the hopes of all mankind. Minnie Vavra, June Beacon '16, A REMINISCENCE OF CHILDHOOD DAYS IN PRAGUE As I look back over the days of my early childhood, visions of the old relics which still stand in the city of Prague, rise before me. One of the well-remembered and interesting buildings is the so-called Blind Man's Clock Tower. This peculiar name is the result of the fate of the maker, who was made blind after completing the masterpiece, so that he might not give his efforts and creations to other cities. It stands in an ancient, narrow street, facing one of the old city gates. Its broad firm front stares in dreary vacancy across the busy streets to the river. It is built in the Gothic style, but the black, worn stones have lost their proud powerful look, and seem to be brooding in mournful melan- choly, upon their by-gone days of glory. Its walls gradually rise to the sky with a lonely forsaken air. The face of the clock itself is built into the top of this tower. It is about three meters in diameter, and looks with hurt pride and a crestfallen expression, on the heedless street below. The twenty-four hours which are painted black on yellow ground, awe and bewilder a modern time reader. Directly beneath these are the signs of the zodiac, painted in what seems to be a blue, but which is so worn and weatherbeaten that it loses itself among the other colors, none of them stands out clearly, but all mix with a blurred aspect. Page Nineteen

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Twenty-Five Years GROVER CLEVELAND It was not illustrious ancestry, wealth, nor luck, which obtained for Grover Cleveland the great honor and respect he held, but it was the char- acter of the man that raised him to such heights. The use of his God-given faculties caused his success. With industry, and the talents he had, he did his best. He was honest in his dealings with his fellow men, and true to his work and his trust. His perseverance brought many a long and difficult task to completion. His thoroughness prevented any backward step, and made easier each advance. He talked little, and was silent on any subject, until he understood all the facts of the case and had formed his opinion. However, when once he was sure he was right, he did not hesitate to state his convictions. Even though he knew that the expression of certain views would arouse enmity against him, still, with dauntless courage, he maintained his position, and dared to say and do what he believed was right. The presence of these characteristics might picture Grover Cleveland as a gruff old warrior, silent, except when uttering some profundity, august, and austere. Indeed, such an impression is more likely to be made because of his great stature and his stately walk. But this great man had a big, kind heart, and a large generous hand. He had a most tender and loving regard for his mother. He showed this feeling in a letter to his brother, just before being elected governor, when he said, I have always thought mother's prayers had much to do with my success. . He loved children, and enjoyed watching them, and they, feeling that he appreciated them, liked to be with him. He did not treat them with smiling condescension, but with that flattering earnestness that children like. One day, he was walking home in the rain with his son, Richard. Richard was carrying the umbrella. Rather than let the boy see that he could not hold it high enough, Grover Cleveland walked all the way down Bayard Lane with his head and shoulders bent low. His many personal friends were always welcome at his home. He made them comfortable, and seated by his library fire-place, fixed his ob- servant, yet kindly, eyes upon them, and though saying little himself, listened sympathetically to all that was being said, with a ready smile for whatever was amusing. His grave silence, however, was not the heavy, crushing kind which renders conversation painful or impossible, it was Page Eighteen

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Twenty-Five Years The ponderous black hands of the clock move slowly and hesitatingly from hour to hour, as though confused and bewildered by the centuries of ceaseless rotation. Above the face of the clock is a tower with two sub- ordinate turrets on either side. One of these turrets is adorned by an image of a cock, precisely before the striking of the hour, the cock sends its automatic crow over the ancient quarters of the city. It has an appealing sound, as though it called forth memories of sad deeds which it has wit- nessed during the centuries of its constant service. The other turret, at the striking of the hour throws open its heavy doors, and a ghastly figure of death appears, holding an hour-glass in its hand, and a scythe across its shoulder, and rings a bell-it gives forth a dreadful, touching, ominous sound as it flows through the sober air. The middle tower opens, and the dreams of the maker reveal them- selves in all their glory. A wooden figure of Christ enters, and turning its head, looks down upon the street below, makes the cross as a sign of bless- ing. It passes out of sight, followed by wooden figures of the twelve apostles, each figure bending its head in greeting, and passing out of sight slowly, and hesitatingly. The figure of Judas comes last, with an avari- cious look on its face, and a money bag in its hand. When these figures pass out of sight followed by the figures of death, the towers close, and the hands continue their routine until the next hour. Mary Wecka, From a Former Beacon J X U J 5 ,oi X 7 K QIVCLGLQKL Page Twenty