Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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IO OAK, LILY AND IVY. gone as it had come, to the sound of music. No longer can I see the turrets of King Arthur’s palace, gleaming in the sunshine; no longer, the group of happy, young knights, fighting in mock battle; no longer the mystic gate, sustained on the outstretched arms of the Lady of the Lake. Before me, dotted here and there with fleecy sheep and crossed by a little stream dancing in the sunshine, lie the plains outside my own home town—above my head floats a feathery white cloud in whose depths I seem once more to see the enchanted city of Cam- elot, built by the magic hand of Merlin—mystic, wonderful. Slowly I leave the scene of my day-dream, and as I go I hear, ringing in my ears, the words of Arthur to his last-left knight, Sir Bedivere : “The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.” John Dalton, ’ii. A RIDE ON A RAFT. In many ways a southern trip in an automobile is delightful, but unfortunate¬ ly, its disadvantages are equally great. Perhaps the greatest of them are the streams and small rivers which must be forded. Seldom can a bridge be found at the opportune moment for crossing. Often these streams are so deep that horses must swim across and wagons be left behind on the shore. It was to such a stream that a party of five weary travellers came one sunny afternoon. They had been journeying since early morning over very rough roads and now, tired out, were endeavoring to reach some inn where they could spend the night. The nearest bridge was fifteen miles away, and although the water looked cold and uninviting, time was precious. As the only alternative to ford¬ ing the stream here was to travel many more unnecessary miles, the car, with its occupants, plunged gallantly into the water. Slowly and painfully it struggled into the middle of the stream ; the water splashed and foamed around it, occasion - ally wetting the people huddled in the tonneau. Then, with an apologetic cough and a snort of disgust, the machine stopped, leaving the travellers alarmed and bewildered as to what Fate would do next. Investigation showed that the car¬ burettor was responsible for the trouble. The party consisted of a stout gentleman no longer young, with a decided taste for the comforts of home; his wife, to whom water as a means of transport¬ ation was extremely distasteful; a young girl, his daughter, who declared most emphatically that “fording streams becomes monotonous after one has crossed a few hundred;” a small boy, with a small boy’s usual delight in anything that promises adventure; and, lastly, that most necessary and long-suffering mortal— the chauffeur. Now here they all sat gazing helplessly at one another, but no one

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 9 CAMELOT. Camelot, the fairest of the fair, the most enchanted of the enchanted—built by the magic hand of Merlin! As I stand on this little hill just outside the walls, that ideal city lies before me, mystic, wonderful! Straight ahead, through the arches of that weird gate upheld by the Lady of the Lake whose garments seem evei to flow, and across whose bosom glides the sacred fish, flashing silver-white in the mellow June sunlight I see the great marble castle of the King, with its tall, white pillars; the parapets and spires of its many battlements rising high in air, their tops almost lost in the fleecy clouds that lazily float across the celestial blue of the sky; and the little brook, clear as crystal, dimpling with delight as the gentle wind plays over its surface—the little brook which encircles the city and is spanned at frequent intervals by arches and bridges of marble. But those long, Gothic windows, catching every beam of the sun and casting their glorious colors upon the floor of the Hall within, hold my attention longer, for full well I know that they, in unsurpassed beauty of workmanship, depict the story of the King’s great battles with the heathen. In imagination I look through those win¬ dows into the great Hall itself, and I seem to see the room hung with the armor of the knights; at one end the huge, hooded fireplace, at the other, the throne of the King, and all between occupied by the Round Table about which sat the knights—Sir Galahad in the magic chair, wrought by the hand ol Merlin. Again, I gaze at the castle. High up in the loftiest marble tower is the golden statue of Arthur, with a crown on his head and peaked wings on his shoulders. But the eye cannot gaze long at it, for it is dazzlingly bright, lighted by the rays of the noon-day sun. Mounting toward it, as if striving for its emi¬ nence, are the lesser towers, each crowned by a statue of man or beast. The nearest spire of all, near but yet missing by far the eminence of the central tower, is that of the chapel—the place of worship for the knights of the Round Table—built of white stone, not marble, but purer than that substance, and topped by a golden cross. Descending from the tower on either side is the end¬ less array of towers which form a beautiful, mystic mount of spires. A flash of arms, a shout of men, and down there in the tourney-field to the west of the castle, Arthur’s knights are combating. From the high casement windows overlooking the field fair maidens with shy and innoc ent eyes gaze down upon their knights, who answer their looks with happy smiles. I see Lancelot. I know him even at this distance by the ease of his bearing, by the shield that he carries. Suddenly, at his feet drops a single, full-blown, red rose. I look up, with him, at the window. Was it Guinevere, who once more had shown her husband’s dearest knight her love for him, or another “Elaine” whose simple heart, like hers, had gone.out to this man? Musing on the fate of that “lily maid of Astolat,” who had died for love, my glances wander from that mystic city, but a burst of heavenly music, like none I had ever heard, brought me back with a start. The city had vanished,

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 11 volunteered a word until, finally,the stout gentleman remarked with some asperity, as he gazed at the back of the chauffeur’s head, sunk deep in his coat collar: “Well, why doesn’t somebody suggest something?” His question received no immediate answer—only a weary and tearful sigh from his wife, and a half-suppressed giggle from his daughter. Again silence prevailed, broken, at last, by the boy, with a solemnity befitting the occasion, but with a roguish twinkle lurking in the depths of his laughing brown eyes : “The cookies won’t last more than a week, will they, mother? Say, dad, I bet this water’s great for rheumatism !” “He thinks he’s so witty and amusing!” remarked his sister, sarcastically. “Mother, will you make him behave? He’ll surely fall off.” For the boy, by this time, had left his place by the driver and had crawled out onto the hood and, fiat on his stomach, was gazing into the stream, “to see if there were any fish he could catch for dinner.” Just then everyone in the car was startled by an uproarious burst of laughter. There on the bank, facing them, stood three of the blackest and raggedest negroes imaginable. They were doubled over with spasms of uncontrollable mirth at the amusing spectacle afforded them of an automobile helpless in the middle of the river. To the loud and appealing calls for help sent over the water to them they gave no heed and in consequence, the stout gentleman grew more and more vexed; his wife more and more amused; and the chauffeur more and more glum. But the boy, irrespressible as usual, came to the rescue. He called to those “darkies” on the shore : “Say, you fellows, the show’s over. Now, hustle ! Get your mules and tow us ashore.” Strangely enough, the peremptory command issued by a small boy was obeyed. The mules were brought, hitched to a quickly improvised raft, and sent out to the car. But when they reached it they snorted and plunged and backed, splashing the waiting passengers with water. The driver, at length, quieted them ; the raft was brought alongside the machine, and very cautiously and laboriously the stout gentleman clambered over the side of the car and deposited himself on one corner of the raft, which dipped so alarmingly that he hastened to crawl over toward the center. One by one the other members of the party carefully got aboard the uncertain craft aud, clutching one another desperately, managed to keep their balance while they were towed ashore. Then, back went the mules to the rescue of the automobile, which, with a final mighty heave, rolled majestical¬ ly to the bank. After receiving slight medical aid, it was able to resume its interrupted duties and, amid the cheers of the negroes gathered to watch the proceedings, each of whom clutched a silver dollar in his dirty black hand, it started once more on its journey south with its occupants, disgusted with life in general and with automobiling under such conditions in particular,—all except the small boy. Turning to his mother, he begged, “Mother, give me a cooky, please, I’m near¬ ly starved after all that. You ought to feed the hero of the day, for you’d have been there yet if it hadn’t been for me.” ’i i.