Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE EASTERN ECHO I9 The Spirit of The Spruce Tree Elizabeth Getzendanner, i926 I-IE. sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, when Seneca, a beautiful young Indian girl, walked to the edge of a pool in a still forest and -A 3C'Tt 4 knelt down to render her daily prayer to the all-powerful sun-god. Not a sound disturbed the calm of the twi- light save the occasional twittering of a bird. Spruces, pines, and evergreens surrounded her as she knelt, lifting her voice in humble petition to the god of the sun, beseeching him to allow her some day to return to the arms of her fa- ther and brother. Long had Seneca been separated from them. For two years she had wandered through the great forests, looking everywhere, but never meeting with success. I-ler father had once been chief of a sub-division of the great Crow tribe, and Seneca and h-er brother had lived in perfect happiness. Then had come the catas- trophe. In the middle of the night a tribe of warlike Indians had swooped down on the lit- tle tribe of Crows, and under cover of the dark- ness Seneca had been able to flee. Never since that fateful night had she seen any of her father's tribe. Now she wandered through the forests, seeking solace at twilight on the banks of pools or under the branches of a spruce tree, her only friend. Seneca believed that the spruce tree had a soul, and often in the extremities of her grief she would clasp the trunk of the tree and pour out her heart to it. When she had finished her prayer to the sun-god and stood looking toward the west, she fancied she heard a faint sound behind her. Turning swiftly she beheld a dim figure, so very elusive-looking that she almost believed she imagined she saw it. Suddenly a low, sweet voice said, Seneca, I am the spirit of the spruce tree. The sun-god has heard your petition and has sent me to answer it. Because you have believed in me, I am, here to help you. The girl, too overcome by awe and gratitude to speak, gazed on the spirit, who continued: Tomorrow when you awake at sunrise, I will have a messenger ready to guide. you to your destination. Follow it and all will be well. just as Seneca was about to open her lips to voice her thanks, the spirit disappearedg into -the uppermost branch-es of the spruce it seemed to go. Seneca thought she heard again the words, Follow it and all will be weI1 g yet the sound might have been only the rustling of the leaves. ' The next morning when the young girl awoke from her sleep beneath the spruce tree, she heard the sweet chirping of a bird over- head. Looking up, she saw a brilliant red car- dinal. The little fellow seemed very eager to attract her attention: it flew near her and even hopped around her. After it had acted in this peculiar way for several minutes, something in Seneca's heart told her that this was the guide that the spruce tree spirit had sent her. Rising hastily, she prepared for her journey, the cardinal looking on in a very anxious man- ner all the while. Now she was ready to start. On, on through the forest flew the little bird, always within sight of Seneca. Finally they came to a glen, which looked as though it had been used as a camping place not many hours before. The little bird perched on a spruce tree branch and twittered and chirped unceasingly. Seneca roamed around, examin- ing all the little nooks and crannies of the glen until she discovered some venison hung up to dry. Hope was in the heart of the girl now. Could it-but no, it could never be her father's campfire, yet the spirit had told her that this day she would find her happiness. Suddenly she heard the soft tread of mocca- sined feet drawing near. She drew back among the bushes, and for the first time no- ticed that the little cardinal had disappeared. Almost immediately two tall, strong Indians stepped through the bushes, just opposite Sen- eca. One was old and worng the other, young and handsome, but with lines of grief and anx- iety on his face. Seneca rushed from the bushes and into the arms of her father and brother. That evening a very different girl knelt to pray to the sun-god, and after her prayer to him she arose and stood under the branches of a spruce tree. Suddenly she saw standing in front of her th: elusive figure of the night be- fore. Seneca, it said, you have found your happiness by searching for it faithfully these last two years. I-lard it was for you, my child, but now you have reaped your reward. Al- ways remember to believe in me, and I will always help youf' '

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20 THE EASTERN ECI-IO Miss Cairnes's Message To The School is a great privilege to come here 5,353 in the capacity in which l stand this morning. The present occasion means much more to me than it does to you. To you it means simply another change in your school. You have had changes before,-a new teacher, a new text book, a new map, a new picture on the wall. This is simply another one more or less interesting. To me, it means a complete change of field-both as to place and kind of work. The duties, the opportunities, the as- sociates are new. That is why I appreciate so deeply the kind words of your principal and superintendent and your generous applause in welcoming me. Whenever l have looked into the faces of a high school audience like this, I have been im- pressed with the tremendousness of the cause that brings so many of us together so regularly and with so much earnestness. What is it that brings us here? A few years ago I heard an address by a prominent Baltimorean before an audience of students, alumnae, and professors of Goucher College. l-le began his remarks with a quota- tion from a book he had just read. The au- thor, speaking of the education of women, nad said, Why educate them? If a woman is beautiful, education is unnecessaryg if she is not beautiful, it is futile. This hopeless view of our destiny provoked a smile, but the next morning we were all back at school or college, busily pursuing our business of educating future women. Perhaps y-u may be interested in two sets of articles which I have just been reading, which deal with the story of the lives of two women. The first was a Polish girl, born in Warsaw in 1867. l-ler father was a college professor, and he expected to give his children a college education. There were two kinds of schools in Warsaw: Polish schools, which taught the Polish language, and Russian schools, which were supported by the state and gave the di- plomas, but which taught in Russian and did not allow the Polish language to be used at all. The Polish children were always under suspi- cion, and an unguarded word might bring the whole family to prison. Marie attended these schools, both elementary and high school. She was acquainted not only with the Polish and Russian languages but also with German, French, and English, and read the great lit- erature in all these languages. A great event in their home was when the father read to them from the Polish masters, and the little girl grew up with a fondness for literature. She was the youngest of the fami- ly, and when her turn came to go to college her father was unable to send her. At the age of seventeen, she was employed as a governess in the home of a well-to-do agriculturist. Here she taught the children, and she and the old- est daughter of the family spent their spare time in teaching the peasant children in the neighborhood how to read and write in Polish. They did this at some risk, for the Russian gov- ernment sent people to Siberia for less. After acting as a governess for two years a.nd living at home with her father for one year, her opportunity for college came. Her oldest sis.- ter, who had graduated in medicine, had mar- ried a physician, and they were going to Paris to live. Marie was to go with them and live with them and study at the Sorbonne. She had hardly decided up to this time just what was to be her special subject, but she had been giving particular study to science and mathe- matics. ln Paris she found that her brother- in-law's home was too far from her schoolg so she moved into a garret but scantily furnished and scantily heated. This was her home for the next four years. Although she endured many privations, still she enjoyed tremendously her study at the Sor- bonne, her association with other students who lived much as she did, and her independence in the great city. During this time she met Pierre Curie, and after she had won her de- gree, they were married. I-le was a physician, but was more in erested in research work and in teaching than in practicing his profession. His wife decided to continue her studies in order to gain a doctor's' degree. She had been interested in certain metals which seemed to emit powerful rays, and decided to experi- ment and try to separate these metals for her problem of research. 1-ler husband worked with her for four years. They carried on their experiments in a laboratory, which they fitted up in a shed in the yard of his school. Some days she spent hours stirring a kettle of boiling metal. Other days were spent in separating the most delicate crystals and collecting them in vials kept on the shelves of their crude labora- tory. They worked up about a ton of metal in the course of their experiments and succeeded