Ricker Classical Institute - Aquilo Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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Page T-wenty-eight The Aquilo consultation, he went to the ward for special charity patients, and played to them. His beautiful music stirred their souls and made them hopeful again. Over in the corner sat a man of some fifty years. His face was strangely familiar in spite of its blank look. His face never changed its ex- pres-sion. He seemed to be seeing something far away which he wist- fully 'vcished to attain. Song after song brok-e the stillness of the room and at last as a fitting climax, the notes of Mountain Breezes floated clear and sweet. The still figure in the rocking chair moved slightly. Then rising to 'his feet, the man cried in a loud voice, Rosy, my little Rosy, I'm coming, dear. I'm coming. At the sound of his beloved mother's name, Peter stopped playing abruptly and sprang forward' to help the swooning man to his chair. As he did so a lock of hair fell back from the man's forehead and revealed a little heart-shaped scar so familiar to the heart of the boy, Peter, His father! The nurse in attendance readily told the story of the case. The man had been brought to them several years before, and as the result of his auto accident had lost his memory. He had been kept in the hospital under observation. The strains of the song, which had' meant so much to him, had proven a shock to his be- fogged -brain and brought memory and reason once more into being. Now father and son are happily re- united. Every summer they return for a few days to the little space under the old pine tree. With eyes dimmed with tears and their hearts filled with many a sad memory, they kneel in reverence by a tiny grave on the hillsidfeg and ,oftenltimes above the moaning of the pine they seem to hear the clear, sweet voice of Rose Douglas singing Mountain Breezes. And they return to their work with full hearts and a new hope in their lives, ever looking toward the day when Daddy and son may return to the waiting mother in a better world than this. Myra Stetson '32 GUILTY I am now on my bed in my room at the dormitory waiting for the officers to come and take me to prison. If they are coming I 'wish they would hurry up. It's perfectly awful to be kept .in suspense, especially when your nerves are worn to a frazzle and your brain is about ready to refuse to function any more. I suppose you are wondering what crime I have com- mitted that would send me to prison. Mine is a sad story. Although I ex- pect I am guilty of a most horrible murder, I feel no Hcompunctious visit- ings of nature. You think I am cruel and hard-hearted? Let me tell you the terrible experiences through which I have passed and you will sympathize with me. This afternoon I lay down on my bed to enjoy a de-lightful story of China called, See China With Me. I was enjoying my trip immensely and was just viewing the temple of Con- fucius at Peking when suddenly I was brought back to the dormitory with a dreadful jolt, by a blood-curdling scream on the stairs just outside my room. My first thought was that someone wasbeing killed by one of those cruel, starved-looking Chinamen of 'whom I had just been reading, so I jumped out of bed and hurried out to see if I could capture the murderer. Imagine my feelings when I saw two freshmen wrestling on the stairs, one of whom was screaming with all her might. After doing what I called a rather thorough job at settling their hash, I went back to bed and re- sumed my book, thinking that now I'd have a fine quiet afternoon. I did for the next ten minutes, during which time I passed through a shipwreck on the Yangtze River.

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The Xlguiiii Page Twenty-seven been so happy, you and I, even since Daddy went. Oh, if Daddy were only here! I have prayed that he would return before this dreadful disease could conquer me, but now it is too late! It is up to you to go and find him, Peter, him and his violin. Why, it was with that violin that he taught me to love him, Peter, in those happy summer days so long ago. He had been so good to you and me, Peter. Then he went to the city to get the copyright on his song, and to make a real home for us. A real 'home, with furniture and dishes and beautiful T19-Tlgihgs. But it is too late, Peter, for that. When I am gone- But Mother, Mother, cried Peter wildly. You're not going Daddy may come any day. No, Peter, I am going to die. You know it. I know it. And you must take your violin and go to the city and find Daddy. Take the money in the purple pitcher on the s-helf. And, Peter, she raised herself and kissed his flushed cheek. N-ever forget how mother loved her boy, and that she wants him to be a fine man some day. Peter, it's getting very dark, play 'Mountain Breezes, Peter, Play- 'Mountain-Breezes! With tears raining down his face, Peter took his violin and softly played Mountain Breezes which was his father's favorite composition. To the strains of the song which had meant all the happiness in her life, the soul of Rose Douglas sto-le quietly from its tired body to take its rest in the heavenly mansions above. . 41 ll Ill to die! For -weeks little Peter, strong in his eighteen years of vigorous you-th and secure in the search for 'his beloved father, wandered the streets of the great city of Charleston. His face lost its ruddy glow and became thin and gaunt from lack of care. His only shelter was a deserted wood- cutter's hut on the edge of the city. Here he returned every night, cold, hungry, sick at heart. He usually made enough by playing his violin to keep the spark of life glimmering in his half-starved body, and the tinier spark of hope glowing in his soul. It was Thanksgiving eve. The boy stood on the corner mid the whirl of snowflakes as they tumbled to the ground. His fingers were cold and numb and his stomach was aching with emptiness. He started to go across the main thoroughfare. .Sud- denly everything went black and he fell into a heap in the middle of the street. When he awoke he found himself in a warm room and the face of a kindly woman was bending over his. He soon found that he had just CSCRP' ed being killed by the chauffeur of Dr. Van Buren, who 'was bringing the famous physician from a consultation to his home. Seeing the plight of the boy, the kindly doctor ordered him brought to his own home. During his convalescence, Peter Douglas so warmed the hearts of the childless doctor and his wife that they adopted him for their own. They soon learned of his peculiar talent on the violin and after several years of study, the name of Douglas became famous all over the south for his wonderful music on the old instrument. Audiences thrilled to the old classics as they swung out in their beauty by the magical touch of this young musician. It was neither the classics nor the popular music which won for him the most praise, but the simple composi- tion taught him by his father, years before. In no other composition was the young musician able to so portray the feelings of his very soul, and to put in the notes of harmony, the agony and' yearnings of his heart, For all these years the search for his father had been 'his one thought and ambition. With the aid of his foster father, he had made every effort but to no avail. Time passed and one day he accom- panied the doctor to the great hospital and while the great man attended a

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The Aquilo Page Twenty-nine Crash! Crash! Crash! What in the world could that be? Surely the house must be falling down. Crash! Crash! Right over my head! By this time I had' decided that there 'was something in the room above me that was bent on coming downstairs, and what was more, was going to take a through the ceiling. At short cut about the same time, I decided that I'd better move if I didn't want it to land on my head. I jumped out of bed and ran upstairs. What do you suppose I saw? The house was not falling down, but three freshmen were holding a yo-yo contest,-that is they were trying to see which one could make her yo-yo go the longest without unwind'ing. I explained to them, not too gently, that I 'was try- ing to spend a quiet afternoon, and then I promised them each a cold shower bath, and a good paddling if they disturbed my peace again during the afternoon. When I got back to my room, I decided to go to sleep. I do not know how long I slept but it was not for very long when all at once I felt something pounce upon me. Then I felt myself being dragged from the bed. Imagine my surprise when WI saw one of those very freshmen to whom I had been talking all the after- noon. She started to ask me if she could borrow something, 'but I stopped her before she finished her request. When I first saw her, my temper jumped to the boiling point, but now, I jufmped, too. I grabbed my tennis racket and brought it down on her head with a terrible thud. The girl staggered out of the room uttering howls like those of a dying coyote. I think she must have died, and I have been waiting ever since to be taken to jail. But can you blame me? No, I do not think any reader of this piti- ful tale could. As least no one who enjoys quiet afternoons could. Helen Wood '32 CURIOSITY A .small fawn about one month old lay hidden under a clump of small fir trees. He understood that he was supposed to stay hidden, not even to move until his mother had returned. This 'was the first time that Spot's mother had left him alone for any amount of time. Spot, having heard a slight noise and being full of curiosity, slid for- ward on his small haunches to peek out from under a low hanging branch. He saw thirty feet away a tawny- colored animal with a short, stubby tail. Spot had never seen an animal like that before but instinct told him to lay very quiet, The bobcat who had not a very keen sense of smell sensed that there was a dinner somewhere near him. He turned blazing eyes upon the small clump of fir under which the fawn was concealed. Spot, who was trembling in every limb of his small body, did not dare to move under the searching gaze of the bobcat. The cat decided there was something under the thicket and he slowly made his way up to within ten feet of it. Spot's heart 'was thudding against his ribs in such a way that he felt that the bobcat had heard it. The cat switched its tail and made ready to spring upon the small fawn whose form he could dimly see. As the bobcat crouched to make his leap, he did not see Spot's mother who had arrived on the scene. Spot made ready to jump and run, although he knew this would be a futile attempt. The fawn's mother taking one look at the crouching bobcat, knew perfectly what to do. Not thinking of herself, she gave two great bounds and struck the bobcat with her sharp front hoofs, as he was starting to leap. The im- pact sent the bobcat sprawling against an upturned root. He took one look at the infuri-ated doe and he slunk off into a thicket where he nursed the wound inflicted by the hoofs. He