Glass High School - Crest Yearbook (Lynchburg, VA)

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THE CRITIU 153 Qllbristmas Spirit ISABEL HANCOCK Gray winter skies and the cold winds we hear Show us it's time- for another New Year. The old year is passing, it waits at the door 5 Just as it leaves us a treat's held in store. Gladly we look for the end of the year, Christmas then comes, to us brings good cheer. This is the happiest time that I know, And Christmas Spirit is what makes it so. 1 Children are out of school, they're free to playg Snow's on the ground and they pull out the sleigh, Hitch up the horse, and with jingling bells gog Oh! Gee! how thrilling to fly through the snow. Children hang stockings on Christmas-Eve night, Close by the firesides where Yule-logs burn bright. They are so happy for Santa will come. They make the atmosphere cheerful at home. Still there are stockings old Santa can't fill, Houses where Yule-logs won't take off the chill. Those empty stockings mean empty hearts, toog Is there not something for them you can do? Let not an anxious child's eager hopes fall, For sacriiicing brings joy to us all. Fill a small stocking and some heart with cheer, That' s the very best way to start the New Year.

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152 THE CRITIC' of his heart. The erring Mose should have been following the example of his bride-to-be by dressing for the wedding. About an hour later, Lucindy was receiving the last touches from Ole Miss herself, and soon, accompanied by the be- ribboned flower-girls, she went to the basement room which had been cleared of the tables. The audience was already there. Lucindy stood at the side door waiting for Mose and making a great fuss over the long,white train attached to her dress. Time passed swiftly and the appointed hour for the wedding was long since gone, when iinally Andy was sent in Search of Mose. First he hunted in all the quarters and then hurried up to the big house. Suddenly he heard a bass voice singing spasmodically Down by the Riverside. Guided by the singing, he came upon Mose leaning heavily against the side- board. Mose, you scon'el, don't you know we's all waitin' an' you ain' eben dressed no nothin! Come on hyah quick, Lu- cind'1l be a-comin' after you. Mose stopped singing and smiled. He said something to Andy, slowly and punctuated with hiccoughs. But he al- lowed Andy to lead him hurriedly down stairs. He was half- pulled, half-pushed to Andy's cabin, where he began to put on his new black suit, Andy helping him the while. Sud- denly he sank back on the bed, dead to the World. Andy, after repeated attempts to arouse him, hurried back to the now desperate Lucindy. He rushed up to her and cried, Mose say he ain' ready, and then amidst the consterna- tion which followed, and on an impulse, he added, But Ise ready, Lucindy, ef you'11 jes' hab me. And so the next day, Mose found himself dethroned, and in his stead, Andy was crowned king of Lucindy's ickle heart. i I

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154 THE CRITIO Beats on Qliartb JUDITH GREGORY The hard lines of the clean little hut were for a time rounded out by the rosy glow of the ire on the hearth. A little old peasant woman sat alone by the fire fondling a pair of tiny sabots. In flrelight there is a certain quality that recalls memories. The little old woman, with a habit common to the aged, murmured to herself from time to time. Ah, mon petit Jeannot, I love thee much, I love thee more than my son, thy father. Aye, I love thee more than life 5 gladly would I have laid down my own life hadst thou but lived. If I could weep-if I could but weep-I feel it would be easier to live, now that thou art gone-the last and dearest of my dear ones. It is Christmas Eve. and there is no little Jeannot to put hay in the sabots for the mulets du' Bon homme Noels, he will not come to this house tonight. Thou absent, Noel will bring me only sorrow. Thy father, mon brave Jean, ah, he was like a young tree, so tall, so straight, so strong! But she was a flower, thy little mother, how she drooped, la pauvre petite, when the cruel war carried him off! How she trembled when one even spoke of war! Sobs strangled the words. The tiny sabots were hugged close to the poor, thin chest. At last she swayed slowly back and forth and began to croon as if to a baby. When the cruel news came we thought that Ze bon Dieu had taken her to thy father in Paradise. But even a crushed Hower may live for a while. She lived long enough to lay thy tiny hand in mine.