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Page 9 text:
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THE BLUE AND WHITE 7 When Della's mother died, James Grayson and his wife had extended a cordial invitation to Della to live with them. Any other time she would have refused, but overcome with grief, she was ffUd to seek refuge from the haunting memories of the old home. Mabel Grayson, thoroughly frightened by her daughter’s report, hurried to learn the cause. “Della! What is • • tell me did Grandma d—d—Oh, I can’t believe it!” Della, aroused from her reverie by her sister’s hasty entrance, Interrupted. “There is nothing the matter, I just received a val • • • why. Mart), you left that butter drop off your knife on that new cushion! Quick, take it off! It will leave a grease spot!” Mrs. Grayson, in her excitement, had carried some butter, intended for the cake, into the room with her, and had nervously twisted the knife about in her hands until the butter dropped off. What shall I do? It won’t come out! Jim’s aunt Agnes gave me that cushion only last week and she is coming to visit us either today or tomorrow. It is ruined—oh dear! Why must I be so terribly awkward? Well, I suppose we must just leave it alone. Maybe when It is dry, it will not be so noticeable.” They looked gloomily at the buttered victim. Then Mrs. Grayson 'turned her thoughts elsewhere. “But your letter, Dell? You didn’t tell me. Why were you so sad?’’ T was only thinking and dreaming. I got a valentine from Bob. To-morrow is St. Valentine’s Day, you know. It is the flrfrt message I have had from him since that silly quarrel a year ago. I wonder why he choose this time of the year to renew friendship and recall old memories.’’ After a few moments she added, “Oh, why did we quarrel anyway-” “Well, that is the way it goes when folks are young and foolish and don’t know their own minds,” Mabel said, and left the room glancing ruefully at the havoc the butter had wrought Several minutes later the doorbell rang. It’s Aunt Agnes, I know.” Whispered Mabel. “There Is a taxi and she always comes in one. It never rains but it tpours. Hide the cushion some place— quick!” Dell kicked the cushion under the sofa and went to the door. A fall, broad-shouldered young man stood there. “Hello, Dell! I come east on business and—” “Bob! I didn’t recognize you! Come in.’’
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Page 8 text:
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6 THE BLUE AND WHITE “1 cannot bear It! I cannot bear itr” be moaned, “that the rain and storm shall beat on her grave.’’ At these times they carefully watched him, afraid he might do himself some bodily harm. Lincoln himself, has said, “even though I seem to others to he enjoying life rapturously, yet when I am alone, I am so much overcome by mental depression that at times I dare not carry even my pocket knife.” There were weeks before he recovered his mental balance. All through his life on stormy days, he was given to moods of sadness. And on these occasions, he would repeat verses to himself on the poem on “Mortality,” closing with the lines, “O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?” 'It was a fact that this little country girl was the object of his life long devotion. Though Ann Rutledge undoubtedly loved Lincoln, her first love had been given to another man. There were those among the neighbors who thought she sometimes looked wistfully towards the east. Two months after her death a white prairie schooner wound its way slowly into town. The driver on the front seat was McNeil or McNamor. With him were his mother, brother and sisters. His story was strictly true. He had taken ill on his way back east. His father died soon after he arrived there. Then too, the long journey over land and delayed him There had been letters which never arrived. When he heard of Ann’s death he wept wi th Linoln. In Lincoln’s life there was one woman he loved, one he tried to love and one he married. Wherever Abraham Lincoln wrought and worked and achieved, he was always accompanied by the memory of an old love. She was ■the dream woman who walked always by his side, never yielding her iplace in his heart to any living rival. From his rail splitting days in Illinois, even 'to the watches of his White House vigil, she was with him. In the spirit world she waited, biding her time until he went to her. Her grave at New Salem, Illinois, is marked by a rough stone, on which is carved “Ann Rutledge.” DAN CUPID, EVER BUSY “Mother, Aunt Dell is sitting in there at the front window and she looks so sad and doesn’t answer me when I talk to her! cried Nancy, as she burst into the kitchen where her mother was baking a cake. “She has a letter of some kind, but I don’t know what it is.”
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Page 10 text:
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8 THE BLUE AND WHITE Bob Davis entered and was introduced to Mrs. Grayson, who having properly welcomed the guest, wisely withdrew, taxing curious MIsb Nancy with her. “Your valentine—?” Faltered Dell when 'they were alone. “It was only a little messenger,’' he whispered. “I said I came east on business. It was to take you back with me Dell!” He held out his arms to her and quickly she’ went into them. The ruined cushion and the valentine, so small yet so important, emblems of an eventful day, lay forgotten. Cupid claimed two more as his own. A TURN OF FORTUNE Hazel Schmid, ’29 There was a sad heart in the low, dark-stained little house that stood humbly by the road under some elms. That very day God had called home the only one who could ever make the dreary life cheerful. Five small children stood around the corpse of their mother being led in prayer by the eldest, a girl of sixteen. It had been customary in this home for the children to kneel around the mother to say their evening prayers. The thoughtful child, Joan, was making use of the few privilege rights. Soon she would be the only one that could take the mother’s place. In her childish mind her mother was taking care of them. As her mother was laid in her final resting place, the rearing of the four children was placed upon Joan’s shoulders. Standing again in her home tears gathered around the clear blue eyes, which were nestled in a very beautiful face. Cupid bow lips were twisted in a way that showed that Joan was doing some very hard thinking. The sad expression soon lighted and as her lips parted in a smile, pearly teeth flashed. Into her mind had come the thought, would her mother want her to sit around pining, and the answer came quickly—no. Whatever the trouble might have been Mrs Joaness had met it with a smile and had tried in every possible way to disentangle it. One month had passed and Joan knew that If she didn't soon find something besides the few washes which she had managed to persuade the people to give her, she would have to put the children in a home. She had never heard what had become of her father. She remembered him as being very quick tempered. When he was home she had pretty dresses and a nurse to lake care of her, and then came baby Marceline Ruth, and she never saw her father again. As her pretty dresses wore out they were replaced by inexpensive
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