Gloversville High School - Oracle Yearbook (Gloversville, NY)

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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

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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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32 material as the box. But that isn't all, the lower half of the box has been tightly sealed. Its secret I have not yet dis- covered, but, if I can have the promise from you men that you will be at my cottage by eight o'cloek tomorrow night, we will then search for the lock on the box and I will explain my theory. I thank you gentlemen for your kind attention. as as as as as as as is Wait in my den, was the instructions issued to the seven as they arrived, one by one. The den was lavishly decorated with relics of Archaeology, and geology. Dr. Hartman had been sorrowed so by the death of his wife, recently, that he moved into a small but compact bunga- low, just on the outskirts of the capital of Maine. His solitude was pitiful as he seldom ven.tured over his doorstep, except on Friday night, to go to the small club, where he always gave wcll-prepared speeches on scientific subjects. The small group was assembled in the rather roomy den by a quarter after eight. Most of them were middle aged doctors and business men. Gentlemen, said Dr. Hartman, resting his cigar on an ancient vase, Perhaps what I am about to tell you will seem preposterously rediculous but, at any rate, I hope you will not rate me as insane. I will not read the scroll in the Pagi language, as it would be impossible to understand it, but, will give you my interpretation of it. You men have never seen a soul, neither have I, nor any many but, according to this scroll, the bottom of this box coritains one. The assembled men held their breath at the very thought of such a thing existing. As you know, he continued, the soul lives over and over according to Budda, in whom I strongly take confidence. It rises from insects, plants and animals, on up to human beings. The scroll says that this soul, when it reaches the highest development, wanders tothis box and rests there. This 'Soul of Souls', feeds on the-souls departed from man. I have no idea about what a fsoul' looks like, but hope to find out if this scroll is at all accurate. I call upon Professor Morris who has previously came in contact with such ancient articles. Professor Morris approached the box. I would suggest that we draw the shades, and close all doors lest the so-called 'soul' become violent, suggested the professor as if he ridiculed at the very thought of there being such a thing as a Soul of Souls , but then went about his work. While Mr. Morris is kindly attending to my request, I will explain myself more clearly. You realize that the death of my wife caused me great grief, said Dr. Hartman, every feature of his dark face de- noting thoughts of a recent sadness, Professor Morris, have you discovered the lock? I believe so, said the professor, looking up from his work. It is located in the base of the box. I must have a key which fits. Perhaps one of those odd sticks is the key. 'THE ORACLE He fingered one of the sticks and thrust it into the lock. There was a terrific explosion, flashes of lightning and a dull thud. Flames shot up in all directions. Blinded for the present they stumbled towards the door. The first impulse of the owner of the house was to put out the flames. Therefor he extinguished the flames and attempted to calm the panic- stricken party. They were no longer eight men in the room alive. The body of Professor Morris was laying cold and still on the floor, his hands were badly burned but were clutched about the small stick. The doctors came to the conclusion that the professor had been electrocuted. You see, explained Dr. Hartman to the young Dr. Cleveland who did not quite understand the situation, This key-like thing is heavily charged with electricity. When it met the likewise heavily charged box lock, it caused an ex- plosion and our good friend, Professor Morris, to be electrocu- tedg but come, we must move the body into a more suitable resting place for the present. It was a mournful sight to see the body of the dear friend being carried down into the cellar and layed on a small cot. Having covered the body with an old blanket the doctor said, I feel responsible for his death, as I inflicted the task upon him, but now I believe the box is cold, so come on, we must examine it. The other doctors looked at each other in the sudden eagerness of their friend to examine the contents of the box. They followed the doctor up the winding stairs of the cellar. The doctor picked up the box with rubber gloves so as to avoid another pair of burnt hands. As he raised the box with trembling hands, the box fell apart, but as it did a small winged creature flew out. The 'Soul of Soulsl' cried the doctor with great enthus- iasm, I must get a handkerchief or something! Catch it! So saying, he disappeared through the door. Several moments later he reappeared, wheeling a long box. This, he announced, is the body of my wife. A cry of awe went through the small audience. You will recall that she died of a malady. My theory is that I can put the 'Soul of Souls' in her and I will be with her again. But this so-called 'Soul of Souls' must contain the souls of 'thousands of other people. 'That's true, but I'd do anything to have my wife join me. Her soul must be in the 'Soul of Souls'. Just to have her alive is my one wish. But now, let me have a look at the soul. Eagerly his tremulous hands reached for his last hope of recovering the one on whom he previously lavished all his affection. Dr. Sidney stepped forward, the contents of his handker- chief vibrating. Here, he said, take it before I go imad. To think that with each vibration a person dies and passes his soul into this bird-like creature. But how, Dr. Hartman, did you happen to come in con- tact with the body of your wife? Certainly you would not dare to go and IQb,- a graveyard!