Ladoga High School - Canner Review Yearbook (Ladoga, IN)

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IE-gl ECCLESIA The Judge gave way to a peal of laughter. Why, my dear young lady, he said, if this 'Cape of Good Hope' is genuine, and from its appearance l think it is, it alone would sell for three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars! Bessie repeated blankly. Can it be that a little postage stamp is worth as much as that? What will grandma say? The judge pulled a scratch pad toward him and began to compute a little column of figures. As he finished, he looked up with a smile. Now that is something you will have to find out for yourself, Miss Evans, he said, but first, if you will take these precious stamps to a dealer in New York, fwhose address l will give you, he will examine them carefully, and if he finds them genuine, as I think he will. he will give you eleven hundred dollars cash for the lot, or maybe twelve hundred, and that will be enough to pay off the mortgage, that you say has been worrying your grandmother so long, and also leave over two or three hundred for emergencies. l can't imagine what your grandmother will say. But, Judge Collins, she exclaimed, How can l repay you for this? The judge removed his glasses and began to wipe them vigorously. My dear young lady, he replied, I want you to know that it gives me a pleasure to be of this slight service to you. Your grandfather was foreman of the jury that decided the first case l ever won in Newark County when l was a struggling young attomey and it was the winning of that case that gave me my start in life. GEORGE HAVENS. f ' ' WTEA -Eff'-e ffff 6- lg' ii 'W A- ' bb - ., -.. xiii? f -iii L , . E i,A,g E -3: , .,.- V ff Sr za -e-- fc .P ZLTT- 3 Kai. l ij 'Yi 'Cf ' -it---L' i f Nl- 'Z -Nunn: Y .

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l l ECCLESIA Bessie arrived at the office of Judge Collins early on a Friday morning in August with a square thin package under her arm and a long legal envelope in her hand. She was given a chairg then the judge asked her what service he could render her. Bessie then laid the envelope containing the deed on his desk and dropping the square package in her lap, she said: ' Judge Collins, do you remember Mr. Eben Evans, of Newark County? Why of course l knew Eben Evans, he returned. He was one of my first and best friends in Newark County. Do you want to know anything about him? If so, l can direct you+. Oh, no, thank you, the girl replied. You see I am his granddaughter-my name is Bessie Evans-and l just dropped in to see whether you would be so kind as to tell me about some land he bought down in Florida. l wanted to ask you whether you thought it was of any value . He placed the deed on the desk before him and reached for a gazetteer in the book- case beside him. Before replying, he opened to that section devoted to the history and geography of Florida. He unfolded the map and turned the book so Bessie could see it and soon made it clear to her that her grandfathefs land was valueless. As the judge was refolding the deed to return it, Bessie, as she arose to go, said: I wish to thank you for explaining this matter to me, though l am disappointed that l cannot take better news back to grandma. But there is one other matter that l would like to ask you about. It has nothing to do with law, though. Then she told of her finding the stamp collection while looking for the deed, and asked him if he could find out whether they were worth anything. As she told her story, she noted a new interest growing in his eyes. He laid the deed down on the desk and motioned to Bessie to be reseated. This sounds doubly interesting, Miss Evans, he said, for l myself am a stamp col- lector. lt you will let me see them perhaps l can tell what you wish to know. Thus encouraged, Bessie rapidly undid the covering of the album and handed it to the judge. He opened it and began to scan the pages, and as he proceeded his interest became more pronounced. WeU, I declare! he said at length, this is most interesting. Later most unusual! where did you say this collection came from, Miss Evans? Bessie then briefly told the remarks which her grandmother had made about them. Judge Collins listened attentively. When she had finished he returned to the book-case and drew out a large book which bore the title, Complete Catalog and Price List of all Stamps. Miss Evans, he said a few moments later, I don't want to startle you, but from a hasty examination, I find that you have one of the most valuable little collections l have been able to see, in fadt some are so valuable that l have never seen them duplicated out side of museums. Bessie started. ' And do you think they would be worth as much as twenty-five dollars? she asked.

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Uhr Eng Csrniua N the side of a mountain down in Virginia stood a little rude cabin, un- painted and unadorned, save for a riotous mass of vines which clambered about the little veranda. It was an evening late in August. Day had put on his jacket and around his burning bosom had buttoned it with stars. The moon was shining so brightly that it only served to emphasize the blackness of the shadows. On the little veranda were three figures. One was a feeble old man who was sitting in a low rocking chair, his chin resting on his hands, which were folded over the end of a stout hickory cane. The moonlight streaming in through the openings of the vines and falling in splashes on the bent figure, revealed snow-white hair and a kindly face traced with wrinkles. The other two occupants were standing full in the light of the moon. One was a young lad, probably sixteen or seventeen years of age, tall and slender with light curley hair and a face frank and winning. The other was plainly a city-bred man. His manner, his clothes, and whole appearance marked him as such. There was one noticeable feature about the man,-his hands. They were very white and the delicate fingers were long and tapering. They looked as if they might be the hands of a musician and, indeed, they wereg for this man was known far and wide as a master of the violin. His humble hosts however were unaware of this for when he had come to their door he had simply said that he would be unable to reach the village at the foot of the mountain before dark, and desired lodging for the night. He had been cordially welcomed and now, the evening meal over, they had come out onto the porch. i David, said the old man as he addressed the boy, his grandson, in a thin quivering voice, David, get your violin and play for your old granddaddyf' The boy shambled awkwardly into the house and soon returned with the instrument and bow. The former, a fine old Stradivarius, was somewhat scratched in placesg all indi- cations of stain or varnish had completely vanished. The stranger looked up with interest. AH he said, do'you play upon that. Yes sir, answered the boy, shyly. With loving fingers he tucked the instrument under his chin and grasped the bow lightly. There was no awkwardness now. Every movement, his whole attitude was grace itself. At first he seemed merely to draw the bow across the strings without bringing out any definite sound. Then there began a melody soft and low that rippled out on the night air in little gurgles like the sound of waters trickling and bubbling over rocks and falling in tiny cascades. Then the music changed and one thought of blue skies and green fields dotted with flowers with bees humming about them, and birds whose throats were swelled with song. But soon all the joy died out of the music as the sun fades from the sky when the storm clouds approach. The burden of the melody was :