Gloversville High School - Oracle Yearbook (Gloversville, NY)

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30 Ling San had very shortly prepared lunch. Carter was very silent during the meal. He was thinking that the porch must be fixed, if Merideth was to be able to get around. And the roof would have to be patched. He would get the money somewhere, it was for the girl, not for him. That afternoon Ling San removed the coverings from the furniture and they made up beds. Carter decided they should repaint Merideth's room, and the furniture in it, too. Carter slept the best that first night than he had in months. The next morning he drove to the small city, three miles from the Mansion. In the hardware store he fingered a twenty dollar bill caressingly before he gave it to the clerk. The clerk looked at him queerly. Apparently he was a stranger, and hadn't heard' of the Carters, or he would have understood. Carter drove through the town, conscious of quizzical gazes and the jabbering of tongues as they realized Dwight Carter had come out to the Mansion. He stopped at the post office. He greeted the men casually, but did not stop for conversation. There was a telegram for him, from David. Carter read it slowly, smiled, and crumpled it. David was off to Chicago. Would try to run out and see him soon. . Carter's smile was one of pain, because he was realizing that David did not need that apartment any more than a cat needs nine lives, but it was for him. It was Carter's home, as long as he liked, for David to keep up. When he had first asked him to come there it was to be a companionship between the two men. They would always be good friends but that was all. David Denison had never known sadness - and Dwight? Dwight had never known much happiness, except those three short years with Merideth. So they didn't get along, when together very long. Carter had more than once decided to leave, but David would not have it. Now it was understood that Dwight should stay there, and David come and go as he liked. Wlren Carter reached the Mansion, he was pleased to THE ORACLE find Ling San diligently mowing the lawns. It was beginning to look better already, but it would always be lovely, to Dwight. For two weeks they toiled, Ling San cleaning house, and Carter painting. and digging up the garden. A man came out and fixed the roof, and a carpenter repaired the sagging veranda. The Mansion, although still unpainted, was washed in every part that the supple Ling San could possibly reach. Carter stayed up late many nights, walking in the garden, when he should have been sleeping. It was hard, terribly hard to carry on. Everywhere he saw the face of Merideth. smil- ing at him. She had always smiled, even when she was very near the end. Dwight saw the smiling face. surrounded by a halo of bright hair, in the seat which he had built for her between the two great elm trees. I-le saw her on the lawn, playing with little Merideth. And it was hard for a man to carry on when he had lost his money, and was living on a thousand a year when the Carters had previously been worth nearly a million. There were times when Carter had been tempted to bring an end to his misery and suffering, but for the beloved wife's sake, he carried on. Now, after two weeks, he wrote for Merideth. We'll have chicken and biscuit, Ling, and fresh straw- berry shortcakef' Dwight became a boy in his eagerness. And the flowers! We must have some flowers in bloom. Ah, Ling. Yles, Mlister Clarter. We hlab stlawberry shlortcake for Mlissy. Ling San slaw tulips blooming tloday, Mlister Clarterf' Ling San, too, was enthusiastic. Carter received an answer to his letter. A nurse would bring her on to him. She would be there Friday. Dwight could hardly wait. He got out the wheel chair and painted it, and Ling San, with deft fingers made new cushions for her back. He and' Ling San built a trundle-way from the porch to the lawn. BAND

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,TUNE 1935 ii fx x 2 Q14 WW N1 . S ,fi-QP? 'QW ' .1 gf :riff-' Aff, -7-'tg 'lf J . 4+ brig ' E 1 JW , CL. ,J ' in WHEN WE MUST CARRY ON It was April, and Mr. Dwight Carter was thinking of moving out to his summer home. Every April, when the snow had disappeared and the leaves began to appear on the trees in Central Park, Mr. Carter would close up his Fifth Avenue apartment and go out on Long Island to the big, ramshackle Carter Mansion. The Mansion was very much in need of repair. The roof leaked, the porch sagged, and the paint was 29 peeling off, but Mr. Carter didn't have the money to fix the place up, and as he wouldn't think of parting with it, the Mansion continued to become more dilapitated with each pass- ing of a year. So now it was April. The apartment was closed and Mr. Carter drove out with Ling San, his Japanese man. They took some food, and their clothes, and reached the Mansion around noon. Mr. Carter sighed inaudibly as the car went slowly up the drive. The spacious lawns were badly in need of trimming, and the porch was sagging frightfully. He would have to try and fix it up before Merideth came. Leave the car here, Ling, Carter directed, as the car came to a stop. Yles, sir, answered,Ling San, and jumped out' swiftly, to open the door for Mr. Carter. Dwight Carter stood there a moment, thinking of the past, and the happy days when he had brought Merideth here, as his bride. That was twenty-three years ago this June. Carter turned to get the bags out of the car, trying to blot out the memory of those,care-free days, when the Carter Mansion was one of the most beautiful on Long Island, and when his young wife had danced through the gardens, on winged feet. But it was hard to forget. Each year when he first came out, Carter had those illusions spring up magically before his eyes, to disseminate his thoughts. Ling San was opening the door into the dim hall when Carter went up the steps, bags in hand. Klinda dlark, Mlister Carter, remarked Ling. He hastened to pull up the shades in the front rooms. The sun- light made it at once more livable, and soon, when all the windows were up, the house was comfortably warm, because it was a very warm day for April. . The first thing to do was to get something to eat. They couldn't work on empty stomachs, and there was plenty of work to do. ..:f- -- v ORCHESTRA

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JUNE I935 Friday came at last, a blue, tranquil day, with no clouds in the sky. Ling San's chicken was boiling, and the precious strawberries were cleaned and ready. The wheel chair was on the veranda. Towards noon, a taxi turned in the drive. A white cap- ped, white gowned nurse stepped out, and Mr. Carter sprang forward eagerly. He lifted his daughter gently from the pillows and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes said all that her lips could not. Carter had that sudden painful reminder. Merideth would never be able to speak to him, and tell him in her own words how glad she was to be here. But he remembered that his child had been well and happy when her mother lived. He was always glad that she had been in a better world, when Merideth developed infantile paralysis and was never again able to speak or walk. The nurse asked him politely to carry her up to the wheel chair, and Dwight had the satisfaction of knowing that she was the perfect image of her mother, with big blue eyes and bright golden hair, and pale cheeks. Merideth smiled peacefully as she sat in her wheel chair, looking out over the lawn. Dwight sat close at hand, holding the frail hand in his own. The nurse had gone upstairs and they were alone. Dwight asked her if she was happy, and Merideth answered with a smile, and a toss of her head. After lunch the nurse ordered her to bed, with a cool but persistent protest, when Carter offered to sit in her room with her. No, I'm sorry, but she must sleep! Merideth kissed her father and went to sleep obediently. Carter thought, as he looked at her, that she looked much more like a little girl than twenty-one. Dinner was a merry meal, although they talked little. They knew Merideth liked it all by her flushed cheeks and her good appetite. Now and then she would blow a kiss to the bowl of fllowers on the table. After dinner the nurse allowed her to sit up a half hour. He and Merideth sat alone on the veranda in the deepening twilight. The night was, Dwight thought with a twitch of pain in his heart, very much like the night that his wife had slipped away. He remembered Merideth then as a little girl of two, who was bewildered at the death of her mother. She hadn't understood it. She had wanted to get in the box and go to sleep with mama . Then the half hour was up and Dwight carried her up to bed. Wlren he returned to the living room Ling San was arranging a bowl of flowers beneath the big picture of the first Merideth on her wedding day. I Ling, Dwight spoke, did you notice how very much like her mother she is? Yles, Mlister Clarter, velly like her mlotherf' And Carter smiled up at the picture and was glad to carry on. J. Mc CABE 31 THE SOUL OF SOULS My topic today, announced Dr. Hartman, deals with reincarnation. This, as you know, is the passing of the soul into a new form. Believers in this strange doctrine of transf migration are followers of Budda. Recently archaeologists have dug up in India and deciphered memorials of his lifetime, one of them being a casket containing a bone of Buddaf' He paused and formed his lips many times as if he was unable to express his point, then continued, His religion ap- peals to the ??????? mind with its teachings that existence is in itself evil, and that the soul lives over and over again on the earth. first in one person and then in another, at times, even in an animal, insect or plant-rising higher in scale after each good life. For this reason, Buddists neverskill animals or any life of any sort. A rival religion is Jainism, in which all space about the temple is cleared of vegetation, lest a person should unknow- ingly tread upon an ant which, contains the soul of a departed friend. I have taken time out of our weekly social gatherings because I know that you old friends will listen to my plan and perhaps my theory. Most of you will consider it preposterous and impractical: perhaps it is. But all men have their illusions. Some live their life, silent of all their theories which come to mind. Perhaps it is better for the world that thoughts of many are not fulfilled, in that it might have changed history. I have always treated you seven friends as brothers, perhaps you will believe me when I tell you my little story. My story goes back to the time of my excavation in India, on which I was successful in my quest. You will re- call my friend, Dr. Cleveland, accompanied me. He is among us tonight, as usual, so I will ask him to tell you about the excavation. As Dr. Cleveland stepped up, there was a noticeable con- trast between the short, dark, plump appearance of Dr. Hart- man and the fair Grecian features of Dr. Cleveland. Thank you, said Dr. Cleveland. Our quest in India was to recover more articles concerning Pagi writing, a very ancient script. We excavated a small ternplierichly decorated with ivory. We removed most of the articles and presented them to the British Museum. The remains of the temple were given to the nation for worship. We each took an article for our own collection. I took a small bronze Budda, which is formed of small, thin sheets of bronze and filled with iron. I do not recall what Dr. Hartman procurred. That, my friends, is what I have based my theory on, said the doctor, adjusting his huge horn-rimmed spectacles and fumbling about in his pocket. My article is a box of, perhaps three feet long, richly engraved with decorations of a metal similar to platinum. A clever lock was located at one end. I used this box as a decoration until one night, when, I chanced to be unoccupied. It was then that I discovered the secret lock. The interior is the most unusual feature about the miniature casket. It con- tained a number of ancient articles. A popyrus roll, well preserved, a miniature Budda and a group of narrow, oddly shaped sticks, similar to jack straws, but made of the same