Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

Page 15 text:

The Auf usta Seminary Anntial. 9 TIr ' wiiu ' - tlic rctl wine with death in it. It glides l(t vu hor whitt! throat I ' ' She recrosses the hall. (i| cii the door, and is one. Duncan, Kiiii; of Scotland, lies sleeping in his chamber at the castle of facbc ' th. Two grooms near him, whose charge is to watch during the slumber of their king, He stretched upon tlie floor in deep and heavy sleep. Except for loud mutterings now and then, they lie as if dead. The door opens quietly and some one enters. The moonlight from an open window falls upon the face of Lady Macbeth, and gleams coldly upon two weapons in her hand. She a])proaches the grooms, places the daggers near tliem, an l with firm step crosses to where the sleeping king is lying. Bending over him she gazes at his quiet features. Some- thing in his face startles her — she di-aws back, crosses the room and passes out. A moment later, (juick, unsteady steps are heard along the hall, and Lord Macbeth enters the chamber. His gaze falls upon the glittering weapons ; he looks neither to the right nor the left, lifts the dagger and plunges it into the heart of the sleeping king. The stupid grooms laugh and mutter in their sleep. The mur- derer stands for a moment transfixed, then draws the bloody knife from the body of the king and — is gone. All is still. Yet once again the door opens and a woman crosses the threshold. ' Tis Lady jNIacbeth, and in her hand she bears a bloody dagger. Approaching the bedside of the murdered man she quietly but firmly dips her hands in the blood flowing from his wound. The moonlight glitters on her white face and red, bloody hands. She smears the blood on the faces of the sleeping grooms, and she lays the dagger at the side of one. The owl screams, the crickets cry, and Lady Macbeth, Queen of Scotland, recrosses the threshold of death. Kate St. Clair IsIa y.

Page 14 text:

8 The Augusta Seminary Annual. Her voice. You do not love her, but are in honor bound ? tlie lad ' is saying. So — repUes her companion, If she were not ? The woman leans slighth ' out of the shadow to get a clearer view of her companion. Is it the distorting effect of the pale light from a window that gives her blue eyes a curious glitter, her small mouth a hard curve You. He reads something in her face and shudders slightly as she lays her hand upon his. Come, as hostess I shall be missed. A few moments and the Lady Gruoch enters the room where the young girl has been playing ; goes up to her and leads her away to a seat. Later, Macbeth, Thane of Glamis, crosses the room and at his entrance the sweet face of the pretty songstress flushes. Her color deepens beneath the intent gaze of her hostess, the Lady Gruoch. The hours fly by. So fair and gracious is my Lady Gruoch, so sweet her smile, that one by one the guests have departed reluct- antly, all but two, the Thane of Glamis and his bride betrothed, the Lady Anne, whom the Lady Gruoch detains for a last word. Lady Anne speaks gently of the lateness of the hour, when her hostess, passing into the banquet-room, re-enters in a few moments with a glass of red, sparkling wine. Drink this, I pray you, my lady, ere your long ride. The smiling face of the brave ]VIacl)etli grows pale beneath his dark skin. He looks intently at the lady with the glass in her white fingers. Lady Gruoch, with a smile upon her lips, holds the sparkling drink towards the Lady Anne, who, taking it, lets the red wine slip down her white throat. The castle looks grim and ghostly in the cold moonlight. The gray walls stand threateningly out against the pale stars. Within the castle, as well as without, deep silence reigns. In the hall, with its roof and floor of stone, the light streams through the narrow unglazed windows. A door opens. A woman crosses the hall. Her eyes are open, but have no sight in them — her lips move.

Page 16 text:

10 The Augusta Seminary Annual. A Child ' s Impressions of some Famous People. LITTLE POLLY was a girl of eight summers, who enjoyed to the utmost her beautiful southern home, her pony, her pets, her garden and all those things that make a child ' s life happy. One day she was told that she must give up all her pleasures, for her father was now a Senator and the family were to live in Washington, which, in her childish eyes, seemed a great city. At the Riggs House, Polly had no children to play with, but to console her for the loss of her out-door life, her father made her his constant companion. A familiar sight on the streets of Washington was the figure a handsome white-haired man, accompanied by a little child who had rosy cheeks, a mass of chestnut curls, sparkling, wondering eyes and a smile and shy word for every one. Her father alwa3 ' s took Polly to the White Llouse witli him, and Mr. Cleveland called her The assistant Senator. Polly had been told that Mr. Cleveland ' s manners were cold and distant, but he was always kind and cordial to the little girl. When the negro Trotter was appointed Recorder of the Deeds she refused to return to the White House, and no persuasion could change her determination. The President missed her, and after a few days asked her father if the assistant Senator was ill. He replied : No, she will not come here any more since you ap- pointed Trotter. She says she will have nothing to do with you, that you are not a Democrat, and she doesn ' t believe yon ever heard of Jefferson. Some years after that Polly, now a big girl of twelve or thirteen years, saw Mr. Cleveland at a banquet. He came up, and shaking hands with her, said, Assistant Senator, now that I have been beaten, wont you forgive me about Trotter ? She laughed, and was a Clevelandite from that time. There was a drug store at the corner of Xew York Avenue and Fifteenth Street, and Polly soon made friends with tlie drug- gist because he had a dog. He, as a very great favor (the kind of favor Tom Sawyer granted wdien he allowed the boys to white- wash the fence), permitted her and a little friend to help at the