Cleveland High School - Legend Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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Ponce de Leon ' s Search for the Fountain of Youth (Prize Poem) Siegfried Rosen A poor patlietic man he was, All broken down and feeble bent, Whose mortal da s were almost o ' er, Whose death was cruelly inaminent. Rut yet he had the common fear To leave this irksome place of care, In favor of some doubtful world Of which he knew not what nor where. He heard of some strange Indian myth: That somewhere in the Land of Truth, Unknown to white man, there existed A Fount.iin of Eternal Youth. He had tlie true adventurer ' s spirit: His age, like scales, from off him fell. He rose, consumed with seething fire, To find — and thus elude Death ' s knell. He sailed about Bahama ' s Isles, He sailed New Florida around, He sailed about the ocean wide. He sailed past many a forest ground. l nwelcomed by restoring founts, L ' nwelcomed by a second youth. Unwelcomed by astoundedness, Met only with that ugly truth — Old age returning, evermore; Inexorably dragging each Limb down till such a time As clawing Death should soon him reach. Discouraged, he returned home, To perish on his native soil; But there he found a newer clue. And came again, to search and toil. He sailed about America, Searching carefully as he went; He sailed about the Indies West; No second youth to him was sent. As weary as a wilting flower That knows full well its end is near. He lay upon his couch and prayed The tinkling waters yet to hear. Ah I Ponce, a foolish man thou wert, To cry against harsh fate, alack! When He that gladh ' gave thee life But merelv asked thee for it back.

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Fiiurlren ' ] THE LEDGER OLD ANTHONY SlEGFRIKD ROSKN Hello, I said to m friend tlu- druKRist, .after I had retiirncd from my journey. And where ' s Old Antlion) ? I asked in feigned anxiety. Aw, yu don ' t need to be a-tryin ' to ' pC ' if so troubled, squeaked a falsetto voice from lieliind a dirty (;reen curtain at the rear of the pharmacy. 1 know you ' re back an ' I ' ll be out in a jiffy ef you are reely a-dyin ' to see me so. I linked merrily at my friend, who grinned in return. We started a conversation, but were soon interrupted by a painful screech caused by the violent backward jerk of a dirty curtain, the rings of which plainti el traveled along its rusty iron bar. A tall, gnarled, v hite-ii.iired old man made his sudden appearance. His colorless face was narrow and his thin, sharply curved nose stood out as promi- nently as a tree stands on an otherwise barren field. His dull grey eyes were almost e.xpression- less and his lips were pale. His was the voice that had uttered those welcoming words in that strangely piercing tone. He concentratei! his ryes upon me and, having satisfied himself, advanced slowly. Can ' t even be alone five minutes without bein ' pestered and — well, why don ' t yu say something? he demanded (|uerulously. Don ' t yu know an old man ' s time is waluable? ' ' I ' ou didn ' t sa ' hello, after m - long absence, too, 1 said in apparent injury. I did. 1 said iiello. 1 said it five or six times. I ' member hearin ' me say it, he prevaricated. Hut 1 didn ' t hear you, I complained. Well, I ' ll do it again, then. Hello! he said grudgingly. Now, are yu satisfied? I nodded. Ef yu ain ' t iKitiu ' ng ' portant to sa 1 might as well go. I can ' t afford to waste m time, he piped insinuatingly, and then chalrically stalked awa . 1 heard the dirty curtain angrily jerk and the old chair into wlilcii he e i(leiitl had tiirown liiiii- self creakingly oiiject. 1 smiled at the druggist, who gravely regarded me. Probai)l he was mystified because I had not lost my temper at the old man ' s irascibility: prob- abh he was deliberating whether to impart a secret to me or not. 1 guessed the latter. Whatever it was, I saw that as he was in this mood of deep meditation, it was an opportune time to ask him something tiiat had long perplexed me. 1 first made sure, however, that old Anthony could not hear us. Vou once told me that you had hired Anthony about five years ago because you were badly in need of an assistant. Surely of all men, Anthony is the least helpful. He is exceedingh ' old and lament- abl eak. It is even inhuman to permit him to labor more than slightly. I know he is no relation of yours, nor has he a claim upon you. Why, there- fore, have ()u retained him this long? 1 did not need a man for manual work or I should not, of course, haxc employed him. All tiiat 1 rccpjired was a person to assort herbs, and as this was an e;is task I thought I might accom- modate him. Assort herbs! I exclaimed. He assort herbs? How incongruous! He can ' t see well enough to distinguish the differences between them and even if lie could discriminate cautiously, his trembling hands would not allow him infallibly to separate each from its fellows. His help, however sincerely given, would be obviously worthless. I stopped short. Suddenh a thought came to me that revealed e er thing. Oh! I see it now. ' ' ou are giving inm charity. ' V ' ou know that he would not accept it if he were aware of it. He is so haughty and takes such pride in being what he believes, independent. He once loftily boasted to me of that fact. Therefore, to i|uiet his scruples ou engaged him to do this and thereby alla ' an suspicion of his that he vas ac- cepting charitN. My friend blushed as guiltily as if he had been convicted if some great crime. He deprecated his action .iiiil sought to turn tiie subject. Mui I was nlidurate. Hasn ' t he any rel.iti es? 1 asked. es, he is contlnuousl disturbed b - a wealthy l.astern relati e whose conscience refuses to allow him to see an aged kinsman of his laboring for sus- (Continufft on Vugv . n»

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Sixlffiil THE LED (; E R THAT ROMANTIC AGE i ' .VlI. ' S N liARMHTTI.OR In till- hrrakfast room nf a smart lulunial man sion in a smart suburb of Ricliley sat Mr. Dennis, a stout, portly man of middle ajje, who was quite prominent in the business world of Richley ; Mrs. Dennis, a lar e lady of the same af:e, who tried to be very prominent in Richley ' s social affairs, and their flapper daughter, Celeste, a rather pretty jjirl of about eighteen. Well, remarked Mrs. Dennis, as she looked through the neat stack of mail that was b her platCj bere is an announcement of the enjia ement of Miss Alice Travers to Mr. Walter La Verne. As she said this she mentalK checked off Mr. La Wrne from her list of promising youn men for Celeste. Mr. Dennis merely grunted, hut Celeste turned pale, choked on a morsel of food and abrupth left the room, as her mother finished speaking. She went to her own room, where she threw her- self dow ri on the bed. It was a pretty room, fur- nished in Kay colors. A thick soft ruj; lay on the floor, and softK shaded lights were placed about the room and thin silk curtains fluttered in the breeze of that lazy Indian summer morning. Why, what ' s the matter with Celeste? asked Mrs. Dennis. Don ' t know, mumbled Mr. Dennis from the depths of his newspaper. He did not seem greatly concerned about his flapper daughter. Just then the door bell rang and the butler admitted a slen- der grey-eyed girl of about Celeste ' s age. There was a tiny hidden laugh in her wide set grey eyes, and a distinct charm about her made her a general favorite with people. Mr. Dennis ' greeting to her was warm, more so than Mrs. Dennis ' , because she recognized the girl with her beauty and charming manners as a dangerous rival for Celeste. Good morning, Jean, he said, did you just get back fr4)m the beach? We ' ve been home for about a week. If ()U should like to see Celeste you will find her in her room. After talking a bile, Jean left the breakfast room and ran up a broad flight of stairs and knocked at the door of Celeste ' s room. On receiv- ing IK) answer, she opened tile door and said, gaily, Hello, Celeste! . The still form on the bed did not move, so she crossed the room and sat down on the wide luxurious bed. Why, Celeste, child, what on earth is the matter? Still no answer, but something that sounded suspiciously like a sob shook the girl. Jean then lifted the dark, tousled, curly lie.id and s.iid in a motherly tone, Here, child, dr (iur tears and tell old Jean all about it. That w ill make you feel much better. Oil, Jean — Jean, Roger is engaged to that — horrid Alice Travers! The iiidden laugh in Jean ' s eyes now became very e ident and slie found it very hard to keep the laughter out of her voice, but she succeeded to say in a svinpathetic, gra e tone: Roger — oh, you mean — Roger La Verne, whom ()u inet down at tile beach — Mrs. Dixon ' s nephew; the one who found and carried ()u down the mountain when you sprained your ankle, and sent you flowers and candy when you were ill ; who said you swam like a mermaid and danced like a fairy. ' es, Jean — oh, I ' m heartbroken! He was aw- fully handsome. He had the keenest eyes. Oh, Jean, I siinply adored him! Everyone did. I was sure he liked me. I can ' t understand how that little empty-headed simp of an Alice Travers ever captured him! Oh! oh! this world is a dreary blank for me. There is no other man in this world for me! With this she buried her face in Jean ' s arms. Jean smiled a knowing smile, for she knew Ce- leste rather well, and knew that these outbursts were not infrequent. Vhen she could control the merry laugiiter in lier voice, she said in a very tragic tone, Ob, wliat a cruel world! Listen, Celeste, Nou ' d better get in some decent clothes, liecause Hoii and TerrN are coining up for a set of tennis. What, Jean, not Terrx Delainl, that boy whose folks moved into the great new white iiouse on the hill? All tile girls are wild about him. Hurry, Jean, iielp me get into this new sport suit. Don ' t ()u think it is becoming? Hurr . Jean, if he ' s com- ing I must look nice.