Lincoln High School - Lincolnian Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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Ad Captandum Vulgus fAn attempt, By ELMER WRIGHT The fiower of love has leisure for growing, Music is heard in the evening breeze, The mountain stream laughs loud in its Hnwing, And poesy wakes by the eastern seas. HE arrival and departure of the steamer at the little port of Koholalele was always an oc- casion for the Konakas to indulge in a holiday: the men would come in from the plantations, dressed in their best, and the women would be re- splendent in gay calico mother hub- bards. Apart from the various crowd of merrymakers at the wharf stood a little group of a dozen or so white people-missionaries and planters. Yes, l know just how it feels, Miss Jardin, spoke Mrs. johns, the wife of the missionary. When I landed here with my husband l would have given anything to see my mother back in the states. There was a lump in my th'roat that was choking me. l couldn't swallow-the lump would neither go up nor down. The young woman addressed was about twenty-five years of age, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a nose slightly turned up: admirable teeth and a complexion to which the tropical sun was threatening speedy ruin. Withal, Alife Jardin was a very vivacious-appearing young woman, very generous with her smiles-Alice's smile was indeed bewitching-in fact, as some of the bookkeepers said later, it produced the same effect as tasting the lotus Hower. Two weeks later. Scene: The veranda of the mis- sionary's cottage. Mrs. Rogers, her peice, and one of the young men from the office are conversing upon the porch. Jack Cray is a very en- gaging young man whose father has sent him down here from the states to discipline him. He has quite won the graces of the minister, Mr. johns, and his wife, in the year he has been in the island, and as Mrs. Rogers notes, of Alice herself in the scant two weeks they have been on the island. K Jack is praising in very flowery phrases the virtues of the island, and he tells of the glorious sunsets and the moon in the summer months and the enchantment of a tropical night -a moon, a gentle Pacific breeze, and the mournful, melodious sounds of the not far distant Kanakas sing- ing before their huts. How much like the old planta- tion days of my girlhoodn Mrs. Rogers interrupted. lf there were only banjoes instead of ukeleles and uncle jake bringing out nice cool- Stop!-enough! Do you want to bring down upon us the wrath of Mrs. John's? just suppose she over- heard you speak of intoxicants this way -jack was the interrupter. Mr. Gray, isn't this that awful man whom we saw yesterday and you told me About later? asked Alice. For a figure came up the pathway toward the house and then walked toward the trio on the porch. jack arose and lit a lamp which was suspended from the ceiling of the porch. By its rays they saw a gaunt man with shaggy beard and hair streaked with gray and a sun-browned face. The man seemed wilder than any of the savages yet seen by any- one on the island, with his uncovered matted head, his ragged shirt open at the neck, and sleeves torn to the shoulders. His trousers were ab-

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28 THE LINCOLNIAN ' because that was what every one else did. Had l been born in Germany l would have been found in the front trench fighting all that was best in the world in fear of death and longing for peace, because that was what most Germans were doing. It made me think of thaht strong-faced ob- jector to war who l had seen many months before go quietly to a ewenty- year prison term, to a position of social ostracisrn because he was man enough to follow the dictates of his own conscience. The officer said he was a coward and treated as they would any ordinary criminal. But what would have been the story had there been a few thousand more heroes like this coward in Germany, or a few thousand less heroes like the cowards who rushed to a miser- able death upon the bleeding hosts civilization because they were afraid to do otherwise? The trouble is not that we have too many men of con- science in America but too few in Germany. Few who have attacked these men claimed that they were not moral, but contended that they were not practical: but practicality has not always proved a good judge of ethics. When we have a world full of people who will not kill each other because they are told to do so then we may look forward to the itme forseen by Robert Service: When Hans and Fritz and Bill and me Will click our mugs in fraternity And the brotherhood of labor shall be The brotherhood of peace. ln my days of convalescence I worked long on my salvation of man. l built a Utopia, l civilized humanity, I brought to earth the end of wars and the brotherhood of man. But when my carefully erected air-castles confronted reality, when my passion- ately soaring hopes were .arrested from their elevated Flight and brought to cool their heels in the dark, frosty chambers of cold facts, l often felt that progress moved in a vehicle more decripit than the proverbial snail. When my faith weakened, my en- thusiasm chilled, l would throw the political economy and the shade of my tired eyes aside and walk out under the open sky 'to be refreshed. Here the night breeze cooled my weary brain and the quiet stars lifted the petty cares of this small world from my shoulders and their beauty entered my soul to be food and drink. Then revived and again hopeful l would return to my den, but now l turn to my literature, to the prophets of hope, and climb with them, the best minds of the ages, to the spotless, snow-crowned heights of inmortal poetry or to dig deep into the rich mines of divine philosophy. Oh! l know if it were not for literature our mad-houses would be over-flowing. So after the battle we have strag- gled home again. We have accom- plished all that armies may do and must leave to the honesty of states- men and the decency of public opin- ion the task of making a world that is fit to live in and safe for mankind. lf men do not wake up after this bomb- shell l shall have to say with Mark Twain, that l am ashamed of the human race. It is our work ot move ong if we fail. on our heads fall the results. Only the future will tell what our ffeorts have accomplished.

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30 THE LINCOLNIAN breviated, disreputable affairs sup- ported by a piece of rope about the waist. l-le stated his errand, which con- cerned the minister and sat down upon the steps while Alice went in search of Mr. johns. Jack discussed the man and told Mrs. Rogers about him. It was not a pretty tale he told -one of idleness and perpetual drunkenness it was-of days when the man seemed mad: and others when his brain was clear and he was easily the master of all. Mrs. Rogers undertook his defense, arguing that when a person loses his ideals and all other incitements to better one- self go, fear or remorse following up must scourge him forward-. At this point the beach-comber rose and came toward the couple. l overheard your defense, madam, of my present condition. l thank you. And you, jack Cray, do not know what it is to have such a temptation put in your way as was put in mine. l wonder what you would do in my place. His tongue loosened, he talked on and on, philosophizing on life, quoting from Shakerpeare and Emerson, and then he spoke of the spell of the tropics-the singing of drpiping waters, the rustle of the palm in the breeze--how in this land forgotten was trouble: one dreamed of love and happiness while the gleaming Southern Cross shone brightly in the sky-and how the Hawaiian sun grips your very heart. The minister appeared and the fel- low delivered a note he had. As he turned to go Mrs. Rogers laid her hand on his arm. Won't you finish your story? How can the story of a drunken life possibly amuse you or this young gentleman here? And the parson has preached several sermons for my benefit, so what Mr. Gray may say will hardly reform me. But-l thank you for your kind words, madan. When other incitements fail, fear and remorse following behind must scourge men forward. Yes, madam, in a low voice, l am going forward. Wait just and get that upper drawer with you, it may help you. a moment. Alice, go little red book in the of my desk-take this The book was a little collection of essays by various authors on relating to' inspirations and ideals. Ten years have passed and with them the queen and all the ,old sys- tem of government in the islands. They are a republic and seeking ad- mittance to the United States. the darkened streets man is passing: he Down one of of Honolulu a carries a small valice. His gaze is restless and he walks quickly, look- ing about apprehensively as if fear- ful of being seen. Another man ap- pears at the corner coming in his direction: he darts into blackened depths of a doorway and is unseen, while this man passes. Rounding a corner 'he bumps into a woman. She starts back as she recognizes him. lt is now under the white Hood of the electric arc light that we recognize the man as jack Gray and the woman with the shawl as Mrs. Rogers. Oh, Jack! How could you-tell me you're not going to leave Alice in this way-ohl what have you in that bag? All this time she is sobbing incoherently. Take your hand from me--l am through with your scolding-you- you have spoiled my hom+yes, you with your miserable Puritan notions. Mrs. Rogers interrupts him, but he goes ruthlessly on: l go across the island. ln the morning l sail upon a steamer at an eastren port, and neither you nor this little domineer- ing sugar company will ever see me again, and he added, patting 'his bag. a good share of its money.