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

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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 :

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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 sorrow now. At first it seemed only a deep melancholy sorrow, then it became more de- monstrative and rose and fell in big choking sobs. At lengthias if wearied and wom with grief, the strains died away in a plaintive wail. A deep sigh came from the old man in the chair, a sigh of utter content arising from a satisfied soul. For a time the stranger was silent, his thoughts still revelling in the glory and grandeur of the music. With a start he came to himself. Boy! Boy! he cried, tears in his eyes, fame and fortune right within your grasp, aye at your very finger tips. Ah, such improvising, such music, such glorious music! And again the delighted man seemed lost in meditation. Tomorrow, he said, you will go with me to the city and I shall teach you and you shall become a famous artist. Then the man explained to the wondertng boy that he, too, played the violin and told him his name which had even reached their ears. You will go? he continued, why in a year or so the world will be at your feet. Yes, surely you will go. But the boy shook his head sadly. You are kind, he said, and I thank you. Some day l do mean to go to the great city and study, but l cannot leave grandfather, I love my music and my violin, butl also love him. He is very old and feeble and will not live long. My place is with him. The guest was plainly disappointed, but he knew the boy was right. David. lt was the quivering voice of the old man who was now reclining in his chair. David, play my piece now. The lad lifted his violin and began the strains of the song Home Sweet Home. The stranger watched the boy as if fascinated. He had undoubtedly found a diamond in the rough, for despite the grand music it still lacked the finish that is acquired by training. When the last note had been played, the stillness could almost be felt, so oppressive it seemed. Grandfather, called David. The old man did not stir. Grandfather, he spoke louder. E He must be asleep, said the guest, and stepping over to the old man's chair he gently tried to arouse him, but all in vain. David, he said softly, he is asleep. David understood. Several days later a roughly clad boy carrying a violin case accompanied the musician to his studio in the city where he took his first step toward success. ALETHA HAYES.