Peabody High School - Peabody Yearbook (Pittsburgh, PA)

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THE PEABODY 29 I can not sympathize with it. vet, because you once helped me, when I was in need, I will do what little I can to aid you, not to find Eternal Youth, for that is beyond my power. but to find peace and happiness, the other half of that which you seek. Ninety miles from here, back into the mountains, I own a farm and cabin. No one lives there at present. As I have no use for it, if you would like to stay there, you may consider it as your own. Your only neighbors for miles will be the hills and forests, the birds and animals, the sun, the moon, and the air. Go and spend your days in peace there and I will see that you lack nothing that is within my power to grant. I thank you, friend, but it can not be so. Greatly would I like to do as you advise but Dourai never has nor never will be charity to anyone. It is not charity I offer but the just repayal of a lawful debt. Remember, Dourai, how, when my good name was at stake, you offered for my use your once plenteous fortuneg how to save me from disgrace and poverty you risked your all? Ah, I remember if you do not. I will be the debtor, not you, Dourai, if you accept my offer. Not because you owe men anything but because my heart grows old and tired and I long for the peace you speak of I will accept and go there to your cabin among the trees. to end my days in peace if God so will it. Dourai soon after took up his abode on the woodland farm. His friend had made provision for his food and clothing, and this, together with what Dourai was able to raise put him in a place of envious comfort. Often, in the days that followed, he walked along the forest paths, drinking into his very soul the wonder of God's handiwork. Often, too came the stirring call to leave it all and seek again in lands afar the Fountain of Eternal Youth but as the days and months lengthened into years he came to sec that here- he was best oft' and to be content to end his days here. Still, there lived within him the hope that somewhere, somehow, his vision would be fulfilled. Not that he was not happy, for surely no man that loved and reveled in the magnitude of nature as he did could be otherwise, yet, despite all this, this this hope was ever present. Then, after three years had passed by and Dourai began to feel that his stay on earth was short he had another vision. His friend, not hearing from him for so long felt sure that something was wrong so he came to see, and seeing Dourai's condition, and knowing that days alone were all that were left to his friend, he stayed to care for him and be with him at the last hour after which the soul takes flight and iourneys to those vast mysterious regions of the outer world. Dourai dreamed. and. just before he past into the final adventure he woke and spoke for the last time to his old friend. Ah, friend, I see the end, he said, and his voice tho feeble, was calm and sure. Remember, friend, the dream that once I told you of? The Spirit has returned and spoken once again to me, My quest has not been in vain I find. Unknowingly I have gained all that I sought. 'Youth-Eternal Youth-is of the heart, the soul. I-Ie.re, among the virgin trees I have gained peace of mind and happiness. Only the last-Eternal Youth-remained for

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28 T H E P E A B O D Y THE QUEST FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH Joseph Shea Harrison. Strange things happen in these days and strangest of all was the quest upon which Dourai set out. He was growing old, past sixty now, and L-ife's years were beginning to lay their mark upon him. Then, one night, Dourai dreamed. A wonderful dream it was. Such a dream as the ancients had, such as they dreamed visions and at once set out to do its bidding. Now Dourai had always believed in dreams and who can prove that he was wrong in doing so? To him, then, on this memorable night, appeared an angel, holy and sublime, more beautiful than all earthly splendors rolled in one. A hush fell with his presence. Then, as out of the far ether, came his voice, calm, sure, sweet and melting, the forgotten tones of heavenly music. Dourai, -the Spirit said, what dost thou most desire of me? O, Spirit! he made answer, of all things I desire, the greatest is Eternal Youth and the Peace that goes with it. ' The Spirit smiled and so benelicent it seemed that a warm thrill filled Dourai and made him feel doubly blessed by having the favor of so great a heavenly being. Thou hast served thy Master well and long,'i the Spirit answered. So shall thy wish be granted thee, seek and thou shalt find. And so speaking he opened wide his golden wings and faded from Dourai's sight. In the morning when Dourai woke he could not realize that it was but a dream so real to him it seemed. Nevertheless, being a remarkable man, and one who knew good signs when he saw them, Dourai set out a little later on his quest, a quest as ancient as man himself. His goods were few, his friends were many. To leave the one it pained him not at all, to leave the latter touched his heart full heavily. Often and often, as he wandered o'er the land and sea, he questioned thus himself. VVhy did I leave my friends and home to seek afar so vain a thing. a goal which I shall never find ? But always came to him the remembrance of the Spirit and always he began again the search for Youth and Peace. Five years past by and left their mark on Dourai as years must always do. His hair had whitened as the snow, his clothes were worn and torn. The light of hope was slowly fading from a face where faith had always lived. At las.t, then, in despair he said sadly to himself, My quest is all in vain. I merely dreamed-it was no vision but a passing fantasy of the sleeping mind. I will give over this vain seeking and return unto my native land There will I end my days and may God grant me peace if not Eternal Youth. And so after many days he came again to his native city but found it changed indeed. His friends were gone, sc-me in eternal sleep, some to other lands and climes. Destitute, his small fortune spent in his vain searchings, he knew not where to go nor what to do. Then, in the high hour of his distress, he found a friend, one whom he had defended in the old days that were past when he, and not the other was in affluence. Dourai, the friend said, I have heard of your strange quest and tho

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3O THE PEABODY me to gain. I sought for it as the Angel Spirit bade me do. 1 found it here. I pass from the earth but I do not die for the spirit of Eternal Youth is in my soul and Paradise shall be, because of it, doubly sweet and wonderful. The tired eyes closed for the last time-eves that had searched the world at the bidding of an angelic spirit of his dreams, eyes that had seen all phases of life and had chosen this, the last, as best, and as the friend tenderly crossed Dourai's hands on his breast a dry, choking sob shook him. Ah, yes. Dourai, you have found Eternal Youth and Peace, he whispered to himself. .-. , --1- 1 THE PHILOSOPHY OF RAGS Margaret jane Brooks. A To my neighbors, he is just an ordinary ragpicker-an aged negro who rides in a rickety old wagon drawn by an equally rickety white horse-while he drones in his uncertain monotone, Rags-old bottles-old iron-to-day. Ra-a-gs. People bargain with him, they call him ignorant, and think he has no feelings. The little children throw things at him and call him names --he is just a ragman to them. Do you want some old bones? they cry, and when the old man stops his horse they laugh in derision. Put your horse in your wagon! they shout, and the old man rides slowly off, shaking his wooly gray head from side to side. Sometimes a particularly daring urchin hurls the question broadcast, VVhat do you dress your wife in? and the unsuspecting negro chants his everlasting refnain, Ra--ags. To them, he is just a ragpicker-he buys and sells rags. To me, he is something more-he is a dealer in life---with all the philosophy of existence tucked away in his little wagon. He has pretty rags and sensible ragsg rags with the taint of the tenements fresh upon them and rags with the faint per- fume of milady's boudoir still lingering about them. They are his treasures and the ragpicker touches each with a certain tenderness as he recites to me their history past and future. From his rags the old man knows life. Here is an old cedar chest strapped to the back of his wagon and he tells me in his quaint way that this is the prize of the day. There is a curious mixture of humor and pathos in his voice as he drags from the chest a bundle of gaudy colored clothes of a century back. There are ball dresses with the tight bodices and puffed sleeves of by-gone days and here on the front of a pea green silk is a brown coffee stain where some long forgotten Befau Brum- mel spilt his'lady's refreshments. There is a faded blue with the hem torn where perhaps some soldier caught his spurs, and down in the bottom of the box, a lady's fan with ,lanice carved in the delicate ivory. There is only one slipper-perhaps the other lies hidden in another box of keepsakes-