Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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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

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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.

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77 ' Auyusta Seminary Annual. 11 so la- vater fountain. ( )ih ' iiioniiiiij vv father, who was ijoing acntss to lvi t:;s ' Hank, told I ' olly t(» wait fur him in that store. IK ' (lid not know she spent a part of evei ' v (Uiv there. When he returned he saw her coat l in on tlie floor and l lh ' , with cap on the back of her head and her sleeves rolled up, washing the cups while the little hoy handed out hot ch(jc(tlate to the cu.stom- ex ' . Polly cried out, Oh, i)apa, I ' ll wa«h you a cup till it shines, and Phil will give you a nice hot cup of chocolate. Her father picked uj) the coat, also Polly, and hurried out of the store, but not even the presence of the imposing Secretary of State, Mr. Payard, could silence her. She said, But, papa, I have not had my soda, and Phil will be mad ; why are you in such a hurr} ' ? As they walked down the Avenue towards the Capitol a tall, broad-shouldered man, with blue twinkling eyes, short curly hair just turning gray, and a ruddy complexion, came up, and shaking hands, said, AVell, little sweetheart, how are you ? Do you feel like a blue-grass colt this clear, crisp morning i It was Senator Beck, who made all children and animals love him by his kindness to them. The Riggs House was the headquarters for the advocates of Woman ' s Rights, as Mrs. Spofford, the wife of the projirietor, was a leader in the movement. Miss Susan B. Anthony spent a part of every winter there, and she and little Polly were very good friends. She is a very kind, gentle woman with a pleasant face, iron gray hair, and a spare figure. She wore a handsome black silk dress and dainty little lace cap every night to dinner. Her voice, usually very low, could fill a hall, if necessary. A Woman ' s Rights Convention was held in Washington just when la grippe was at its height. Miss Anthony was the presiding officer. A meek little woman got up to speak, but could not be heard, there was so much coughing. Miss Anthony arose and said sternly, Every one will please stop coughing, or leave the building. In five minutes you could have heard a pin drop. Polly ' s father was (tn the Appropriation Committee. One day when she was curled up fast asleep in a big arm chair, she was awakened by a knock at the door, and when she said come in, there entered a sweet, old-fashioned looking woman, a little bent with age, with big, dark eyes, a smiling mouth, and hair brought smoothlv over her ears and fastened in a knot Ioav on her neck.