Rye Neck High School - Scraps Yearbook (Mamaroneck, NY)

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JOHN BROWN'S SOUL They sat before the great fireplace, Watson Brown and his wife, Lucy. She bathed her' self in the radience, staring dreamily into the living red breaking thru its soft grey coat of ash in a thousand fascinating eyes. She was completely relaxed in the agefworn armchair, listening with all her heart to the deep tones of her husband, who read aloud under the yellow lamp suspended from the ceiling. LIt was Uncle Tom's Cabin , that new soulfstirring epic of .Harriet Beecher Stowe's, which was to raise a nation in arms, its fac- tions pitted against each other for the prinf eiple of slavery-. The very shadows seemed to listen. Outside, the wind that had her' alded the advent of dying summer had sobbed itself out into a moan, and a growingrchill snapped the Kansas air. Watson read with precision: it was evident that this was not the iirst time he had pe' rused his wellfthumbed copy. Indeed, with' in the three years they had had it, it had asf sumed a'place inferior ony to the family Bible. It was a sort of well, into which each night they steeped their minds to feed that growing hatred for the institution of slavery. Watson Brown was religious. That is, he read the Bible, and believed that which he chose, and left the rest alone. Altho he did 'not question it, he did not accept it wholly, as did his father, that stern New England fanatic, who held his Bible in one hand, and a reddening sword 'in the other. Everything about the two had in it an elef ment of simplicity, almost of destitution. The room was very bare, but it was homelike, and half-way comfortable. Comfort! A It had been a thing unknown in fWatson's child' hood. His father could be kind, divinely tender, to an invalid, and on the other hand as harsh and unswerving to the prodigal. One could see the trace of it in Watsons' face+his Stern, narrow' cleft of a mouth, his expression of purposiveness and obstinacy. Lucy had become desperate at times at this forced, needless indigence of their lives. Her lips had assumed a terseness, almost bitter at times, tho one had but to look into her arf dent eyes to see that for all his obstinacy she would not have her husband otherwise. One night he came home, an ugle gash in his cheek. A bullet-the border ruifiansf' he ex- plained. Border ruffians-those unkempt but well' armed bands from Missouri, profslavery men, fighting for slavery. Bleeding Kansas 4 had begun its death struggle.- XOn that same night-in October, 1855- Watson's father, stern old john Brown, who was then in his fifty-fifth year, arrived in Kansas. In his terse, tense, rude English he informed them that L'God had created him to be the deliverer to slaves the same as Moses had delivered the children of Israel. Kansas was in the grip of a civil war, and in this medley of fanatical, revengeful pas' sions, john Brown, earnest, passionate, ob' stinate, with hiss soul set on one- object, furi' ously struck here and there, and, no matter who- happened in his path, he crushed him ruthlessly, never stepping aside from his ar- rogant, intolerantibelief of what he believcd God had willed. L. One-day the town of Lawrence was at' tacked andburned by profslavery meng john, his eyes blazing, his jaw set harder than- ever, announced: i ' The Lord cries for vengeance. And I and mine are ever ready to heed His will. i 'This' was in May of the year, 1856, when the struggle rose to an even' higher pitch, and no man went about unaccompanied, much less unarmed. Watson, it is the Lord's will that you and I iight for His cause. ' john held out one of the cutlasses to Wat-' son, and he grasped it. ' -lnljlothiiig shall stop me, he said, from accomplishng my father's will, u And the Will of God, added' John. Don7t go, don't! You'll be killed, or you'll kill! , , N , Watson laughed, kissed her, and swept out into the night. Lucy dried her tears, and sat in-:her aged chair, with Uncle Tom's Cabin to console herself. But she flung it from her wth venom, and closed her eyes on the indignant tears that refused to be suppressed. Uncle Tom's Cabin n the -corner of the Page Thirtyfiive

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CLOCKS With the stroke of ten, the weary student raised his eyes from his work to look at the clock. It was a tall timepiece like a cathef dral, with beautiful carvings on its sides. I He looked again andpquickly started to write, There was an 'essay in itself. Had he not av clock, how would he know when to get up, to go to bed, or, in short, to do anything? It impressed him, for in the homes of his ,, friends were various types: a-grandfathefs, a cuckoo, an ivorygmahogany, walnut, gold, even a plain brass clock. There was' not a home without one. -As he gazed at this intricate means of timefkeeping, the' hand continued to move automatically, but why?-it must symbolize something. Behind that clock was a mechan-' ism of :fine toothed wheels, tiny springs or weights, regulated by pendfulums, and- a pointer on the dial-. In the same way be' hind one's actionshthere mustfbe- an engine, the engine of life. Can it not be oiled, tink' ered- with, and 'regulated to bring aboutwa scheduled routine? It is possible, but most of us neglect this machine, allowing it to rust and tighten up so that it no longer runs. But even'-then' it is notalways too late. With. a slight transformation it may begin to run, at first slowly hand, then-alittle faster until it is on time.. Time, no matter what welsay, that little world seems to slip in, It will not be left alone. Tho at one time facf tor in one's life, today what would Awe do without time and its guardian, the clock? Martha Truesdell CONFUTATORY PROVERBS . .When a man becomes entangled inthe many roads of life or when he finds himself on the horns of a dilemma, what 'islmpre natural for him than to refer 'to the or to the experiences of othersfor asolutlibnuto his problemq I - Let -its eavesdrop on the conversation of the Irishman who traveled with the circus:- Ike fthe jewlz Vatch y' doing for-a lifing these days, Patty? f e Pat fvery shabbily dressedj: Travelling with a circus: I ' 1 Q ' Ike: You d'Lm't seem very prosperous: Pat: Well,'Ike, you know 'the oldsaying, A rolling stone gathers, no moss. , Two years later Ike again met Pat, who was very well dressed. u Ike: Hello, Patty, how vell you're look' ing! Are you still travelling with the circus? Pat: Yes, indeed, Ike, still travelling' with the circus and true to the old proverb The travelling bee gathers the most honeyif' Ike: Are you still a ticket collector? at: No, I'm chief clown now. Ike:lHow did' it you got that job? Pat: One day the chief clown got sick and they wanted me to substitute,-on the .condif tion. that if I made out good theywoulcl keep me, and if I 'fell -down Ifwould loose P my job. . I ' A . Ike: Vell, I hope you looked before you leaped. V . . f -:Pat: Oh! no, Ike, -I A didn't take ,any chancesp -I just snapped up the job rememf bering the old proverb He who hesitates is lQSt.v ,V . ,, ' 7 . Ike: You're-cabougther best .dressed man in town. .A N .-, . ,Patg If that be so I'xn the finestrman in town usince fine feathers rnakeilne birdsffi 1 Ikea, Oh, no, Pat, that's. all wrong. You should never judge a 'man by his coat! Indeed, on -thisysubjectg of yproverbs, one may .well feel the samegas Shakespearqrwhen he said, The .devil ,himself T can ,quote .scrip- ture to his purpose. ' Q , George Fitzroy ' VROOM ENOUGH . America 'was called' the' land of Room Enough - ' - - In days. gone' by. ' , For nobles and peasants, gentle andgruif, Were welcome to this country of high hopes Where no discrimination was made. Many types flockedto these shores Searching for liberty, so long them denied, Freedom of- worship, liberty' of speech -f Were the two goals they longed to reach. So, to the United' States, a new Republic, Where aristocrats and absolute power Have no say, c Immigrants still come-in great crowds, . Even tofday. ' - ' ' ' , Mary Quintavalla Page Thirtyffour

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hearth smoldered slowly into a black ash. . . When Lucy awoke, the grey dawn -was streaking in the window. Before her squatted john, who was rubbing something shiny and metalic with a cloth spotted with gore. See' ing that she had awaked, John cast the rag into the coals,awhere it sizzled with a terrible stench, and placed the cutlass over the fire' place. There was one there now, instead of two. ,, Where is Watson? asked Lucy, rising from her chair. Some horrible light seemedto spring into the eyes of John Brown. r Watson is gone, he said simply, it was the Lord' s will, and he died-fighting for the cause! Oh- a little shrilly, and she sank back into the chair, still and unconscious. Nor was this the. end. It was merely the beginning of those bloody brutal murders of Pottawatomie, in the midst of which Lucy Brown fled, to Watson's old home in Tor' rington, Conn. V In the summer of 1858 john and his folf lowers made a raid into Missouri, captured a number of slaves, and carried them joyfully to Canada and freedom. John Brown never entered Kansas again. j Watson's family sympathized with Lucy, but she had to keep her grievance against John to herself. They respected their father much too deeply to let even the death of one of their own, tho it were of their father's own doing, turn anyone of them against him, and especially would not tolerate Lucy's com' plaints. And so she, rebuked in her grief, concealed her hatred for john, and let it grow there, deep in her heart, whereuit took on the proportions of a monstrousjthing, evil,w searing her own heart. . Trulyljohn relished nothing more than to have God put a scourge into his hands to lash the devil. And with his lash in hand, he struck, but he was blind, and knew not where was the devil, and many of those that were innocent perished. ' A At the Kennedy farm in Virginia, Brown collected, with about twenty of his followers, arms and supplies. Somehow they kept theme selves hidden from the neighbors' curiosity, until Sunday evening, October sixteenth, when- he and his little band sallied forth to assault the foundations of slavery. They marched into the town of I'Iarper's Ferry, seized various government buildings and offi' cials whom they held as hostages. By morn- ing the whole state of Virginia had been aroused. Brown took refuge with the rem' nants of his band and his prisoners in the engine house, where he was forced to sur' render to the U. S. Marines under Coloncl Robert E. Lee on Tuesday morning. Brown sustained a few injuries, but none of which prevented him from being brought to almost immediate trial. Thru the prof ceedngs he bore himself with utmost dignity. Not once did he falter in his testimony, an arrogant, conceited man, who because of his narrowfmindedness had been able to. plan and execute one of the most horrible crimes of history. He was sentened to be hanged on the second of December, 1859. Somehow, Lucy felt she should have ref joiced, but she didn't. john was too much like Watson that she could hold 'out against him at such a time as this. Nevertheless, she still hated him-a jealous' hatred, which none might share. But in spite of all her hate, she pitied him. 'f She went to see him-to enjoy his suffer' ing, as he must have enjoyed hers. He was still theisame: stern, dogmatic, perhaps a lit' tle thinner. But there was a 'difference-sub' tle, but noticeable, as if a different light Shad crept into his eyesfa more knowing, kindlier light, a littlegmoreihuman. ' It was of your own doing, she said cruelly. Maybe it was. But I shall always believe it was God's. I only hope that he believed it also. He? , Why-Watson. I never felt that he blamed me. - She raised her eyebrows, and a little of the sternness fell from her lips. But I meant you-your punishment. He shrugged, and smiled ironicallyj I do not regret it. I am worth incon' Page Thirtyfsix