Plymouth High School - Mayflower Yearbook (Plymouth, IN)

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THE SENIOR ANNUAL Uncle Eben learned that Rob's company was stationed at Malvern Hill only a few miles from the plantation, but that Young Marse had been taken as temporary prisoner by dem Black Yankees, . You may well imagine our joy when he escaped and riskily rode home. We prepared the best square meal we had cooked in months--when a squad of Federal soldiers appeared, and made bold with all our dainties. ln the meantime Rob had hidden in the tiour-chest. Happening to think of the tea-pot, I made as tho to prepare tea, and smuggled the money away to Rob. After sufficiently indulging their appetites they decided to search the place for the prisoner, leaving one guard in the kitchen. He was a young fellow, a Yankee born and bred, and he began jest- ing with me. l knew Rob was getting angry, for the lid of the flour- chest was beginning to move--suspiciously. Edging over to it I plumped myself down on the top. boon, the other soldiers return- ed from their search and with mock bows bade us farewell. The guard hung back, and when the others were out of earshot, turned to me with a merry twinkle in his eye. 'You had better hurry your prisoner away.' And all the time I had thought that he did not know. It did not take me long to don an old suit of Rob 's father's and he a house-dress of black Aunt Lucindy's. Mounting a dappled work horse and carrying a basket of eggs on one arm he greatly resembled a respectable country woman going to market. Straight by the cn- emies pickets he rode, and on to his own camp. In the meantime I had taken his black saddler and was en- joying a gay cross country run as the Federals pursued me. I led them a merry chase until it seemed no longer safe, and then halted. Riding up, they made the disgusting discovery that I was a girl. That was the last of my adventures and the last time I ever saw Rob. The days following were terrible ones, and they have seared in my memory scars that time can never etfaee. The house was converted into a hospital and in the horrible seven days battle that ensued, Confederate and Federal, friend and foe alike, were nursed with equal care. We knew not but that the next one brought in might be he, but it was not to be. Word came that my father was daily growing more feeble, so I started on my perilous journey home. I and the chased teapot that was the only memento of the happier story of my life. It's motto I from henceforth chose as my own for this and 'to live in scorn of miserable aims that end with se1f,' are the highest attainments that I can comprehend. Here in this Hoosierland the lives of its people are as unevent- ful as the gently rolling meadows of its country, and so I have waited, but after all, I have generally found the duty lying nearest me, requires all that I have to give. And my life has not all been tuned in a minor key, for there is always the turn in the road. And you know, altho 'tis perhaps a fantastical idea, our faith teaches us that matches are made in heaven. Aunt Prudence was vehemently ringing the dinner bell for us to return. 'While Aunt Patience was talking I had been noticing a carriage coming far down the road and wondering why it was stop- ping therc by the gate. A tall man with iron gray hair and stately bearing came toward us. Aunt Patience had been sitting with her

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THE SENIOR ANNUAL declared it to be that of a white child murdered by the Indians. I had noticed that Aunt Patience was unusually quiet, but presently she spoke. She and Aunt Prudence always use the Friends' speech. Virginia, thee hast admired my silver teapot so much that I shall give it to thee. But first I must tell thee something of its his- tory. Years ago, I was young and filled with life like thee. Sister Prudence was much concerned about my spiritual welfare, but my father granted my every whim. I had long harbored a desire to at- tend a young ladies' finishing school in the South. At this idea the neighbors looked askance, for to them the very thought was start- ling. But father was on my side, with the result that I soon started to Virginia, with a polonaised dress of grandmother 's silk, a bewitch- ing white crepe bonnet, adorned with rosebuds, and a new haircloth trunk. . Those were pleasant days, here she smiled reminiscently, but were to be soon overshadowed by the crisis of '62. Life was filled to the brim then of merriment, for there were dances and gay- ities of all descriptions,--and broken hearts, too, perhaps. On Sab- bath When we attended church, there was a young man, very hand- some and tall who sat in the judges' pew. His sister attended school with me. They lived on a nearby plantation and he certainly was a favorite with the girls. Their amazement was great to see when they knew his preference Was for the prim little Quaker as he chose to call me, and here the color came into her faded cheeks like that of a young girl. Before long however, we had dreadful tidings of war and Rob enlisted. I shall never forget the evening he told me that he must go to his regiment. We were walking down the curved drive edged with lilaes, and even now, the fragrance of lilacs when bursting into bloom makes me a trifle faint. He told me the story of his family motto, Servabo Fidem, or I keep the faith. How all the ances- tral knights of the olden times had fought even giving their lives to preserve it and now, how he must keep it ever before him, so as to keep faith with all the things that were worth while. The motto was engraved on some of the silver plate, and that is what the initials S. F. stand for on the tea-pot. School was dismissed in a few weeks and l accepted the invi- tation of Rob's sister and mother to stay at their plantation until it would be safe to go North. After he had gone a silent foreshadow- ing seemed to overhang the whole place. But there was much to do and little to do with, so our thoughts were directed toward work, and not lost in idle mourning. Ere long the humming whirr of the spinning Wheel and click- clack of carders long silent in some dusty garret, were heard upon entering all the neighboring homes. I so well remember one inci- dent, half pathetic, half humorous. Upon hearing Miss Margaret fRob's motherj complain of the poverty of wartime, faithful old Uncle Eben followed by the few remaining slaves, appeared one morning in the door of the loom-room, and offered his dusky tresses to be spun for the use of the cause. We lived through the next year by careful management and scrimping, for every cent that could be hoarded, must be deposited in the silver tea-pot that set over the great fireplace in the dining hall. This money was to go to the aid of the Confederate soldiers.

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THE SENIOR ANNUAL back toward him and I called her attention to him. Doffing his hat he inquires if a Miss Fanway lives anywhere in the neighborhood. He glances sharply at Aunt Patience and she pales, until I believe that she must be ill. But no, for with a little cry of mingled joy and pain she puts out her hand to meet the one that he has extended. She turns to me with a wonderous light shin- ing out from her face, a light that counterbalances all the years in the silent Desert of Waiting. t'Virginia, Virginia, it is Rob l But I slip aside and run away to pacify Aunt Prudence who is coming down the road at a speedy walk. An for the love of mercy, Virginia, she says, what be a lone spinster woman like Patience Fanway, gallavantin' around with a man for? After explaining she finally comprehends who it is. NVaal, waal, when will miracles cease to be performed? And then she bustles down the hall to prepare supper. Sary Emmeline, tly around right smart and make some of your sody biscuits, and I suppose you might as well roast the chicken I was goin' to have tomorrow. An Sary Emmeline, don't mistake agin, and put pennyroyal in the dressin' fer sage. I pick up the silver tea-pot and slip away to a little balcony off my room. How strange it all is. Under a mistaken conception of honor, Rob, after the war, had battled with the dire and dishearten- ing poverty of Reconstruction days, before he could seek out Aunt Patience. And so, at last the turn in Aunt Patience 's road has come I How bright and shining is the surface of the teapot. Next week I am to pour at Lucy Allen's coming-out party in the Palm room of the Claypool. l know that Mrs. Penrose will go into rap- turous ecstacies of delight over the edect of my old-fashioned pom- padour gown. But it isu't then that my teapot will mean most. I don 't mind saying that it 's when Jack comes out to tea next Sunday evening. But I must hurry in to help Aunt Prudence. The day is nearly finished for the sky is all opal, tlec-ked with silver, with a faint rim of turquoise and rose. The hollyhocks that edge the garden walk are nodding their weary heads to rest, and the poppies look like great drops of blood against the ,pure White of the lillies that stand as stately and tall as Rossetti's angels. t Everything is effused with a mellowlhiiliting ligl,Lt,,Qnly.,the knoll of pines like grim sentinels in the distantfaiburying groundfstand out darkly against all this glow. All is quiet, too, except for the tinkling of the sheep bells across the ridge as Zeke drives them home to the dimly-lighted fold. Through my head there insists on strangely jingling parts of verses from that blessed Hoosier poet: There little girl don't cry, They have broken your slate I know And the glad wild ways of your school-girl days, Are things of the long ago. There little girl don 't cry. Love and life will soon come by.