Collegiate School - Torch Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

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IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllll IIIIIIIIIIIIII Illll Il Ill ll I III IIII I I Illll I IIIIIIIIIIlllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII' 56 T H E T O R C H IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIII Ill I I II I l I I ll IIIIIIIII I I IIIIIIIllllllllllIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIllIlIII The Bedtime Story HE lights were out, and the large room was lighted only by the glow from a Hre which burned on the hearth. Outside, the wind was whistling a ghostly tune, and the rain was descending in torrents. The children gathered closer about the fire, and the youngest climbed up into the lap of her grandfather, who was seated in his favorite armchair close to the blaze. 'fGrandfather, said the little girl, c'we're waiting for you to begin, and you promised to begin with '0nce upon a time, tonightf' Eh? Oh, the bedtime story. Well, what shall it be tonight ? Something new, about Indians and treasure, please, grandfather, said Dickey, who loved adventure. Something about romance, too, put in the eldest girl with a heavy sigh. About Indians, treasure, and romance. Well, well, let,s see. He gazed into the Ere, and the children seeing that his thoughts were far away feared that they would miss their bedtime story tonight. W-:'re waiting, grandfather, dear. About Indians, treasure, and romance, murmured the old man, not heeding the interruption in the least. Having repeated this twice, he sat up, settled the llttle girl more comfortably on his lap, and proceeded: O-nce upon a time, a long, long time ago, 'way back in the mountains of Ver- mont, there lived a beautiful young girl, whose name was Marie Jeanne. Having lived far from the world, her only pleasure was in wandering through her beloved forests beside the streams, and dreaming of a Fairy Prince, who 'would some day come riding down the trail on a milk-white steed and carry her away with him to a vast kingdom, where she would be queen. When she was twenty years old, her father informed her that he wished her to marry a neighbor of theirs, one John Weaver by name, who had asked for her hand in marriage. She was broken-hearted, because she knew, as everyone did, that this man was a coward and a villian, and, besides all this, she hated him. Why had her father asked this of her? She refused again and again, but in her heart she knew that in the end she must yield. She would be forced to obey her parents. There was no one to help her, and her only comforts were the birds and flowers beside the stream and in the forest where she wandered daily, looking, always looking, for the Fairy Prince. Surely this was the time for him to appear. One day while she was sitting on a large moss-covered rock, studying her reflec- tion in the clear mountain stream, a stranger came down the trail. He was riding horseback, and both he and the horse looked worn out as if by much hard travelling. He was a young man, large and handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and skin tanned by the sun. His object seemed to be finding lodgings for the night, and lVIarie Jeanne

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llllllllllllllllllllIIIIIlllllllIIIIIllllllllllllllllllIIIIIlllllllIllllllllllllllllllill IIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIII III lull mnInIIIIInnnIIIIImlIllIIImnI1IIIIImmllI:nunIIIIImlmllIIIllmuIIIInumIIullllllllIIIIIullllllIIIInlllIIII1llIIlllmIIIIIllllulllllllllllmllllln tlIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllIIIIImlllllIIllIIullllIIllllllllllllllllllllllll ll Ill I 1 llll illIIIIIIInulllllllmlllllllllnlllllllll Illllll lull IIIHIIIIIIIII1llIIIIIIllllllIHlllllllIIIIIIlllllIlIIIIIllllllIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIHllIIlllIIHllllIIIIIllllllIIIllllllllllllllllllllllll My Favorite Dog Y favorite dog is just a little bit of cloth sewed up over a lot of sawdust and he sits on my desk and watches me study. He has two beautiful glass eyes that have a habit of getting crossed whenever he thinks l am studying too hard. He has a long, skinny neck, and a big head with ears almost to his knees. His ears have a provoking Way of sitting out when I try to learn my French out loud. If my lessons are very hard, he grins at me in his doggish fashion and says more , 3 plainly than Words, Don t you Wish you were me ? At this I lose my temper com- pletely and hurl him into the corner, hut he stands on his head in such 21 grotesque fashion and looks at me so reproachfully that l have to laugh and pick him up. V. C., '24 Just Me 'Tis .rad to reach thi: world zz dunfc, But Jncider far, I wean, To he considered hriyhl al jfrxt, find in thg end found green. S0 lei it nofw he .mid of me, That I fwax horn Il fool, Then I shall disappoint no one By what I do in school. ANNE K. WILLIAMS, 'Z6.

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IIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllIIIIIIllllllIIIIllllllllIlIIIIlllllllIIIIlllllllIllIlllllllllllllllllllllllnllll IIImlllmlllllllllllllnll llllll ul ll 1 H I IllulllIIIIIIlllllllIIIllllllllllllllumnllll nlllu llnml Illll mllIIIIllnmIlllllllmulllllllmllltllllllllllll' T I-I E T O R C H 57 UllllllllIIIIIIIlmlllIIlIIIIIllllllllIIIIIlllllllllIIIllllllllllllllllllllIIIlllllllIIIIllllllIIIlllllllIIIIHullIIIIlmlllllllnlllltIIIllnllllllllllllllllllllm IIII lullIIIIllllllllllllllnllllllllulllllIIIIIIIIlllllIIIIllllllllIIIIlllllllIIIIlllIIIllIllllllllllllllllllllllllIllllllll hastened to invite him to their humble cottage, because, although she saw a lean, brown horse instead of a milk-white steed, she felt sure that this was her Prince Charming. This young man turned out to be a trapper homeward bound after a month's visit to a brother in the city. His home was in New Hampshire, where he owned an island in the middle of one of those lovely mountain lakes. His name was Pierre Rollin. Pierre proved good company, and entertained lVIarie Jeanne and her family far into the night with stories of the wild country in which he lived. He did not leave the next day, nor yet the next, but with many and various ex- cuses he stayed on. Pierre and Marie Jeanne became fast friends, and. often walked in the forest together. It was not until the third evening that he announced his in- tention of leaving the next morning and that Marie Jeanne told him of her father's wish in regard to her marrying John Weaver. Pierre was very angry and sympathetic at the same time. Together they plotted, and finally came to a conclusion, which seemed to please both of them, though,Marie Jeanne was a bit nervous. The next morning both were missing, and also two horses from the barn. They had eloped. The mother and father were at first angry and finally distracted with fear. When days, weeks, and months passed and no sign of the missing daughter, their fear turned to despair. As Pierre and Marie Jeanne rode side by side about a week after their elop- ment, he told her that since they were married he would share the secret of his island with her. Cn his island was buried a wonderful treasure which had been given him by his father, who was a sea captain. Around this treasure he had built a fort to protect it from the Indians, who lived along the lake shore, and were-very much dreaded by the settlers. There was a small settlement on the mainland, about three miles from Pierre's island, and, being well fortified, it was safe from Indian attacks. It was to this village that Pierre and his wife were going. After weeks of hard travel, they finally arrived, and were joyously welcomed. They remained here for some time while a house was being built on the island. They lived in the middle of a wonderful lake, dotted with hundreds of small islands, and surrounded by mountains, and were as happy as the birds that sang all day on their island. One day Pierre received news that he must travel far away to a sick relative, but he could not take Marie Jeanne with him. She could not stand the hardship of the trail, and the bitter coldness of nights beneath an open sky. She refused to go to the settlement, and insisted on remaining in their little home until he returned. On his departure he warned her of the Indians, telling her that if she saw any signs of them to get into her canoe as fast as possible and go to the settlement where Father Rondeau would care for her until his return. The third day after he had gone, Marie Jeanne sat by the window sewing, and gazing out over the blue water to where the peaked mountains pierced the sky, Sud- denly she saw canoes dancing on the water not half a mile away, and recognized them at once for the war canoes of the Havaki Tribe. Marie Jeanne lost no time in getting into her own canoe, which was tied up at the wharf. Ars she had always paddled with Pierre she found it difficult to guide herself. When she was half way across the lake a sudden squall came up, and, in less time than it takes to tell, the sky, such a short