Newport High School - Blunita Yearbook (Newport, PA)

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12 cbe Blue anfr lUbitc. had ever been found. Further proof stated that the judge and Mrs. Grimes were twin brother and sister. Thus Judge Brown's greatest trouble, who his parents were, was ended through a ferris wheel. WM. MORROW, '2‘L JUST A WAR POEM. 44 1% J HAT A wonderful poem that is,” said my friend, as she handed ▼ ▼ me the newspaper which she had been reading. 1 read the poem and after I had finished 1 said, 1 happen to know the origin ol that poem. Would you like to hear it?” She nodded assent, so I began the following story: During the war, in 1915, a young American officer was taken to a hospital in the town of Havre, France. He had been badly wounded and needed the best of attention. During his convalescence he won the friendship of many soldiers in the hospital because of his cheerfulness and his charming personality. This soldier whose name was Sergeant Bradley had given the best of service on the field of battle. He wras also known for his poetic ability which was remarkable. While he remained in the hospital the days seemed to pass very slowly and at times the soldiers were very lonely. In order to afford some amusement for his comrades Sergeant Bradley would recite them the poems which he had written from time to time. These poems proved to be very interesting and each day the soldiers would ask for something new in the form of a poem or story. One afternoon Sergeant Bradley was sitting near an open window looking out over this small town. There before him he saw' some of the buildings which had been destroyed by exploding shells. As he thought of the horrors of war he began to put his thoughts dow n on paper. The sun was sinking over the hills as he finished waiting. He rose and walked to another part of the room where he talked to one of his comrades. He read the poem to this soldier and then carelessly laid it among the loose leaves of a book which he had been reading, thinking that he would lead the poem to his comrades at some future time—perhaps on the ’morrow. Little did he realize what an excellent piece of work that poem was! That evening when all was peaceful and quiet in the little town of Havre, all were awakened by the roaring of guns and the exploding of shells everywhere. Before anyone could realize the danger the hospital was in ruins. What a terrible sight it was to see the soldiers dying. Such was the experience of Sergeant Bradley, but he was one of the fortunate ones who did not receive further injuries. Time went on and he was sent from place to place and at last—to the land of America, his beloved country! In the meantime in the French village of Havre among the hospital ruins, a paper was found which was partly torn and which seemed of no consequence at the time. Later, however, some one discovered its real worth and before long a very popular war poem was being published in the various French papers. In the same miracu

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Che Blue anh lUbitc. I) The car soon arose to make that great circle. Lit by bit the ocean came into view. Soon the Statue or Liberty burst into view and at last the New York Skyline could be seen far in the distance. As the car w nt higher and higher the “O’s” and “Ah’s” of different people could be heard. Soon the car would reach the top, many, many, hundred feet from the earth, whe.e it would stop and give the people time to absorb the beauty and grandeur of the scene. It reached the top, and the engine gave a sudden throb and stopped, when snap. The car gave a jerk and slanted toward earth. Men cried aloud, and women tainted. The beam holding the car, strained by too much weight, had broken, and there the car hung, far Iront earth, held only by a little rod. The slightest jar would send the car hurtling toward the ground and wculd mean the death of all the passengers in it. From belov, the sounds of tin ambulances could be heard, already at the scene of the disaster, waiting to carry the injured to hospitals! Sirens shriked and whistles blew'. A space was roped off so that if the car fell, no one would be under it. A fire company responded to an alarm sent in and ladders were raised but they scarcely reached a fourth of the distance to the top. A murmur arose from the crowd! A man had crawled from the car and was slowly working his way down the great steel frame. He looked like a liy crawling over a wall. The murmur grew louder and it was seen he was carrying a child! A platform had been left on (he frame work of the wheel by workmen when it was erected and there the man placed the child. A sigh of relief arose when it was seen he had reached it in safety, but a cry of horror went up when the man started to climb up the wheel. He reached the car and carried a woman down the framewoik. Again and again be made this trip. At times people shut their eyes, feeling sure he must be dashed to earth. Other men in the car. at length, came out to make the perilous trip, shamed, no doubt, by the oilier man’s actions, when—crash!! The car tell to ‘-arth. Two men still in the car weie instantly killed. By this time other fire companies reached the scene and a ladder long enough to reach the platform where the rescued people lay. was raised, one by one the passengers were brought down and rushed to hospitals. When the man who had rescued all the occupants of the car was brought down to earth, it proved to be Judge Brown. His arms and hands were cut and lie had fainted from exhaustion. A mighty cheer burst forth when he was placed in the ambulance and hurried away. A few days later, a oung woman went to see Judge Brown in the hospital. Her name was Mrs. Grimes, and her child. Marguerite, was the first person Mr. Brown had carried to safety. Upon her entrance into the private room, the nurse cried out in amazement. The resemblance between the judge and Mrs. Grimes was remarkable. After inquiries were made, it was learned that Mrs. Grimes had had a twin brother wrho had been lost when about fhe and no trace of him

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Ube Blue anb TKflbite 13 ious way in which it was found it drifted to America and wras published in our newspapers. It was published in honor of our soldiers and our French comrades and allies who fought in that great war. So, my friend, that is the origin of the poem which you have just read—but the author's name is unknown to the World itelf. I was the comrade to whom he read the poem that afternoon in the hospital. LOIS E. ZINN, ’22. THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. npO ANYONE, who has read “The Old Curiosity Shop,” it is quite in-A teresting to see the place. It was a warm summer day w'hen 1 visited the various literary buildings in London. As I went up Fleet Street in my approach to the Old Curiosity Shop, I admired again and again the magnificent flowers and trees of England. Everything is perfect. There is not a dead leaf or wilted flower to be seen. Every house has its little yard, filled with flowers and surrounded by a stone wall. As 1 walked up the very narrow pavement at .the side of the Old Curiosity Shop I could almost reach the top of the first floor of this small house. I stepped into or rather down into the first floor, for the house seems to be sunken just a little below the w'alk. I was met at the door by a little old lady, who is employed by the government to look after the place. The first room is that in which Dicken’s wrote The Old Curiosity Shop.” It is so small that when three or four people are in the room it is crowded. Dickens’ desk, wrhich is hewn out of a large log, stands at one side of the room. The fire place is still there as are also the tongs. I pictured little Nell sitting at her grandfather’s feet near the fireside. How very clear Dickens had made that picture! The characters of other novelists amuse and instruct, Uut finally fade away like chance acquaintances. To anyone who loves the characters of Dickens they are real. They seem to be sealed to us as life-loqg friends. The walls of the room were squalid with age and there were names scratched here and there by visitors. The smallness of the room impressed me. It seems almost like a child’s doll house. There were pictures of all Dickens’ characters sold in the Curiosity Shop. I bought several, among which was one of Little Nell. When it came time for me to go I was loathe to leave the place. I cannot express in words what seemed to hold me there. It is so very quaint. Of all the historical places I have visited this seems to have stood the longest in my memory. GRACE SOUDKR, ’22. Willie—“Mother, my Sunday school teacher never takes a bath.” Mother— Why, Willie, who told you that?” Willie—“She did. She said she never did anything in private that she wouldn’t do in public.”— Ex.