Columbia College - Columbian Yearbook (Columbia, SC)

Page 84 text:

BENEFI TS REMEMBERED Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend. These stirring words come into my mind as I recall the very 'familiar phrase, 4'Bcne'fits iforgotf, And far be it from Columbia College to be among those to whom this stinging epithet might be applied. The occasion of these reflections is the great kindness conferred upon the students of Columbia College by the University of South Carolina. In view of our great misfortune, the University very kindly and very promptly oitered the use of the library and laboratory as well as class rooms. The arrangement by our trustees made it unnecessary for us to accept their class rooms, though we accepted the use of the library and laboratory, which have been a great help to us in our class Work this year with our insufficient equipment. For these beneits remembered all the students of Columbia College are most sincerely grateful to, and thank most cordially the University of South Carolina. 80 K 97

Page 83 text:

THE CHAPEL IN THE MOUNTAINS HE bright sun of a beautiful Easter morning fell upon the little chapel among the tree-covered crags of the majestic mountains. The rays, re- iiected from a splendid, many-hued memorial window, shot itorth glit- tering, piercing lights. It was early, but the silver bells were chiming the hour of the service of the Resurrection. The ringing, full of the spirit ot devotion, deepened my peace and il felt drawn to enter with the little crowd of shepherds and send up my gratitude tor a risen Lord. The inside of the chapel was rich with a charming simplicity. Its only ornaments, besides its beauty of architecture, were a great cross of glistening marble and the lovely memorial window, on which li read the simple inscription: Luo Maxx, lircerzrvrzo or Gon. The service was sirrrple and impressive. The anthems rang out clear and sweet from the organ lo'l't, the devotions were earnest and heartl'elt: the priest talked quietly and reverently of the ltesurrectiong the song ol' the choir boys died away as though in the distance, and the people, hushed and l'ull ol' peace. moved out into the clear beauty ol' the rrrorning. In that atmosphere ot holy, tender love could be ifelt the presence' out God himsel'l', and l lingered, loatlr to go. .Ks l sat in my Obscure corner, the holy, myster'ious appearance ol' the priest held rrry gaze. llis face was gentle, humble and noble, his voice was deeply musical and sad: his dark eyes spoke of some great sorrow. He stood now in an attitude ol' benediction, and a holy radiance seemed to glow about his whole l'or'm. As the last person passed out, he turned toward the great white cr-oss and his lips moved as though i11 prayer. Suddenly he sank to the lloor. and. with a deep groan, buried his il'ace in his hands. Moved by an irresistible impulse ol' pity, I approached and touched him. lle lil'ted his head slowly and looked at me withorrt any sign ot annoyance or surprise. You have some sorrow, l+'atlrer'? His sad eyes looked deeply into rrrirre. '4Yes, he answered simply. il hesitated: then, overconre by pity. l went on: 'Hear ye one another's bur- dens,' saith the Lordf, Again his eyes searched mine. I am glad you have conre. l have needed a l'riend so much-one who corrld know my li!'e and yet love rrre. l had one once -his voice trailed oil' and there was a I'ar'-away look in his dark eyes. l waited silently. llc roused hirnselI'. Yon really want to know? You will listen to the sorrowl'ul story ol' a nriserable stranger? The pleading in his l'ace stirred me deeply. and l silently grasped his hand. llc smiled gravely, almost gratel'ully. 'N 'l'hank von, my 'lI'll'llf,. My hrslorv shall be brret. but l have lived eternitics. et.ernities. Ile sighed. looked I'ar out over the fresh, dew-batlred rrrourrtains. and went on. l have been an orphan :rs tar back as I can rernernber. My father and rrrotlrer both died when l was a mere child. leaving. however. great wealth to their two children, my sister Louise and me. We had all that heart could wish. except parental love and that one lack bound us so close together we seemed as one soul. l was happy in caring l'or her. in anticipating every wish. in protecting her. 1 Sl o

Page 85 text:

heart up. 'I' saw her buried, and for days I could not leave her grave. She seemed calling to me. I could think of only one thing-Louise was dead. The hand I held was like ice, the priestis itace was stonily expressionless, his eyes glassy. Frightened, I begged him not to go on, but with a gesture of pain, he said : No, nog I must go on. I must tell the whole tale or my heart will break. I have often wished I might have died and been buried, an innocent man, by the side ot my pure sister, but a stronger Will led me through the fire to receive me puritied beyond. it. My first feeling after my grief had somewhat subsided, was one of overwhelming hatred. I started out to tind Leo Mann. I knew if I found him I would kill him, Init in my turmoil of spirit I cared not. I followed him relentlessly and found him one atternoon on this very spot, kneeling in prayer. For a moment there was an awful struggle in my heart. 'llhe sight ot his face halt revived the old love, but a vision ot Louise, pale and weak, came to me and I steeled my heart, though the sweet eyes reproached me. At the noise of my approach, Leo turned, and, as he recognized me, a look ol' pleasure brightened his face. Ile sprang eagerly forward, but when he saw the look o11 my face, recoiled. afllogli I cried hardly knowing what I said. 'llogl It is well you pray. Pray, yes, Init do you think your black heart can ever know I7orgiveness ?' Aston- ished and wounded, he cried out, 'David I' 'No, don't speak to me. I hate you and I have sworn to kill you as you killed my sister. Coward., At the mention ol' Louise's death a look ol' horror swept across his 'I'ace, then a look ol' torture. Isle opened his lips to speak, then closed them, and I shot him blindlyg shot the man whom I really loved with all my heartft There was a deep silence. 'llhe man buried his lace in his hands and his form was shaken with hard, dry sobs. Becoming calmer. he continued: As I shot, I swooned, and when I revived. Leo was lying hy me. his hand in mine. Isle tenderly pressed my hand to his icy lips saying. 'tlod forgive you, Ilavid. as I do. It was all a mistake. I have only a l'ew moments'-with a shudder I saw the blood still pouring I'rom the bullet wound- no, you can do nothing for me except forgive me iI'or not telling you before what I am going to tell you now. Would to God I had, but it all seemed so sacred and holy I could not speak of it. fl, loved your sister, David. Itlow I loved her you can never know. I loved her with my whole soul, but I could never tell her ol' it. I struggled against it, oh. such a struggle! I knew I could never have her l'or my own. l'or I had sworn to my father on his dying bed that I would take the vows ol' priesthood as a kind ot atonement iI'or some imagined guilt ol' his. I never regretted this vow till I saw that Louise knew ol' my love and returned it. 'I'hcn the torture on her account was dreadlul. I did not mind my own grief. hut I could not hear to see her suffer. I could. not rest, and at last I decided to drop out ol' your lives. I came here to minister to these people in preparation l'or priesthood. and here I have hecn since. Can you .torgive me. dear. dear Ilavid. that I did not tell you this before ?' 'llhe dying man was in my arms. Never can I Forget' the anguish ot it all. 'Forgive you! Oh, Iieo, Leol' I cried, as I wept and kissed him again aml again. I'Ie smiled up at me. I 'Ilon't. weep. Ilavid. ltfs all right. I am going to Louise, my darling wife, Louise. It's so happy to die in your arms. Ilavid. and then meet your sweet sister in the great beyond. Ilavid. I-you-you'-his voice faltered: his face shone with a great light-he was with Louise. S3