Sheridan High School - Bronc Yearbook (Sheridan, WY)

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4 THE OCKSIIEPEBIDA foreign lands, studying and teaching, but when he heard of his pet’s need he hastened at once to Ordo’s court. When he had been told all, and had seen for himself Winifred’s pitiable plight, he shook his head and sighed, Oh, Winifred, my dearest pupil and the idol of my old heart, something tells me that your trouble is caused by unhappiness.” “Unhappiness,” gasped the queen, “when she has everything her heart can desire? “My daughter, have you ever been unhappy?” she demanded almost fiercely of Winifred. “Blessed mother, dear teacher and honored father, to you all I would say that I have never experienced extreme emotion for any length of time. At times 1 have been radiantly happy, but my ailment has prevented much of that. But 1 have never been unhappy because of this malady. So no unhappiness has caused it.” “Bear with me,” said Rothgar, “until I have finished. I am an old man, but I have learned much of the science of reading the future from Chaldean scholars. Perhaps you do not feel unhappy, but let me tell you a bit of history. You come of a poor but worthy family. Your ancestors suffered much persecution, and all of their faces bore such traces of pain as we see on yours when you are stricken by the malady. A deed of valor brought one of your ancestors into prominence and he became such a court favorite that when tin old king died childless and alone, he willed the throne to the son of his favorite. Since then the royal line has remained in your family, but the suffering will not cease until you help to relieve the suffering of others.” “You mean,” said Winifred, “that T do not give enough?” “Yes,” answered the old man. “That is all I may tell you now. even though 1 see that you do not comprehend my use of the word 'give.’ But again I say unto you that one day Winifred shall be a perfect beauty.” When Rothgar had again left the court Winifred commenced to seek her beauty. Her mother bade her lose no opportunity to give. So she gave a gold piece to a beggar, a necklace to a poor girl, and many other priceless gifts. She watched for any change in her countenance, but alas, none came. In fact, her beautiful moments became more rare and she was fast becoming a plain, middle-aged woman. Not long after this Ordo died, and Sil-vene, the queen, soon followed, so Winifred was queen. Her people loved her for her generosity and spoke respectfully of her as their “maiden queen.” Her enemies laughed and called her the “homely” queen. Now Winifred lived to be an old, old woman, and the last part of her reign was so troubled that at times she felt entirely friendless. She felt that her fawning courtiers loved not her but her kingdom and its wealth. One night, as Winifred drove through the town in her sleigh, she saw huddled up in the snow a tiny child. The night was bitter cold and the child was scantily clothed. She ordered the driver to stop, and stepping out she gathered the child up in her arms. She had just lately given up the fruitless search for beauty, and her thoughts were only of the child. Tenderly she cared for the infant, and since no one claimed it she decided to keep it. “For,” she said, “the Christ was a child and my ancestors suffered. This child is friendless and so am I, it seems, so we shall be friends to each other.” That night all noticed a great change in Queen Winifred. She seemed happier and more beautiful. As she bent over the cot to kiss the babe, the transformation was completed. A voice in her ear whispered: “This you might have had long years ago, had you given without selfish motives.” “What might I have had?” she asked. But there was no reply, and no one else had heard the voice. “Look, look!” cried one of the ladies in waiting, “the queen! She is beautiful- -she has the perfect beauty!” Everyone looked, and it was so. The queen herself felt happier than ever before, and kneeling beside the baby’s bed she cried, “Oh, Rothgar, at last I have found true happiness, which is perfect beauty.” And ever after she was known as Winifred the True Beauty. If you do not believe this you may some day lie so fortunate as to find in the castles

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THE OCKSHEPERIDA Volume 3 Sheridan. Wyoming, January. IVII Number 3 THE ATTAINMENT OF PERFECT BEAUTY By Mabelle Goehring, ’ll. Long, long ago there lived in a tiny country, in an obscure corner of Europe, a noble king. This king’s name was Ordo, and his queen’s name was Silvene. They were much loved by their people, not only on account of their goodness, but also on account of their little daughter, the princess Winifred. Winifred was the pride of her parents, and the idol of her people, for a sweeter child would have been hard to find. She was very beautiful, her hair being a dark, dark brown, and her eyes a clear deep blue. Her old teacher, Rothgar, often said that some day she would he a perfect beauty. This pleased the queen, for her dearest desire was to have a beautiful daughter. Rut as years went by Winifred’s face lost its exquisite beauty to some extent, and the prophesy seemed likely to prove untrue. Yet about her there was a great strangeness. At one moment she would be so beautiful as to startle the beholder, and at others she was very plain indeed. The changeability of the princess’ beauty became the talk of the hour, and many artists who tried to paint her portrait were dismayed to find changes so great as to ruin a picture accomplished in one short hour. Doctors and specialists were consulted, but all they could do was to suggest a change, so Winifred, at the age of 15, was sent to a distant land to live with her mother’s people. On her twenty-first birthday she returned to the court of her father, and in her honor a large ball was given. The guests had assembled in the halls when Winifred came down the stairway, radiantly happy. “How beautiful she is!’’ exclaimed people to their neighbors. “How lovely! None can compare with Winifred.” The music began and a young prince from a neighboring country led Winifred out for the first dance. “How beautiful you are tonight—” he commenced, but the speech froze on his lips, for the fair face before him had lost its beauty, and looked old, gaunt and worn. The silence was exceedingly painful to both, especially since many of the guests had noticed the change. Soon her face resumed its natural beauty, but not before she had noticed the looks of pity, and had seen the people whispering among themselves; for these were very superstitious people, and to them this changing meant some calamity. “They do not care for me,” reflected Winifred bitterly, “they only love my beauty. Do they suppose that I am unconscious of the curse which has followed me since rhildhood ? But then—ah. me—how should they know since they have not seen my agony as I watched my changing countenance in the mirror?” To her partner she said, “The people are so happy and so good to me tonight, why should I not be happy?” When the dance was ended she fled quietly to the old schoolroom of her childhood. “Oh, Rothgar, my noble teacher, would that you had never spoken those ill-fated words! Even my parents are disappointed in me! Oh, woe is me!” After a time she rejoined the dancers, but her heart was heavy and most of the time her face bore the horrible look of pain. Winifred’s birthday was over and the mystery was still unsolved. So Winifred asked her father to send for Rothgar that he might advise her. Now Rothgar was in

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THE OCKSIIEPERIDA 5 of that country documents telling of the you the name of the country, for it has long Perfect Beauty Winifred. But I cannot tell since been absorbed by a larger monarchy. AN ARIZONA SANDSTORM By Nova Moody, T2. It was a sultry day in July, and Phoenix lay baked beneath the sun. It was so hot that the very air seemed to vibrate and quiver. No breeze stirred, and the sunbaked earth seemed hard as stone to the bare feet of the few Indians trudging aimlessly up and down the narrow streets. All of a sudden a puff of hot wind struck my face, and quicker than can be told, people were scurrying to and fro, shutting windows and doors, taking in all portable things, and the hitherto quiet street was crowded with people hurrying towards shelter. A sand storm was coming! The wind began to blow cold, and little pebbles and grains of sand glistened in the sun. Then the sun went under a cloud and it grew dark. I ran for the house and reached there just in time to hear the lamp on the post near the gate shiver into atoms. Colder and colder blew tin; wind, and the air was filled with whirling sand blown in from the desert. The gale carried before it all that could be lifted from the ground. The noise was terrific, but above all we could hear the screeching of the wind. For about ten minutes the storm raged, then suddenly all was quiet. The sun came from behind the clouds; doors and windows were thing open and the storm was over. The streets, which had seemed so hard and dry, were now knee-deep with shining sand. The entire city presented a different aspect, but life went on as before, the still air quivering with heat, the Indians trudging aimlessly to and fro through the heaped-up sand. Evening came, and with it a cool breeze which blew constantly until sunrise, carrying the sand out to the desert again, and by morning the town once more lay parched and dry beneath the unrelenting sun. By Sarah Gridley. Fred l’ortz is employed this year at the First National bank. Myrtle Furness of Spencer Business college has been assisting in the postoffice for the past few weeks. Louise Portz is remaining in Sheridan this year. She has for some time been assisting in the Carnegie library. Percy Metz is residing at Basin. Wyoming, this year, where he is engaged in the practice of law in the firm of Metz Metz. Miss Dora Haywood is employed at the tie plant as stenographer. It is evident Dora proves very efficient for her position. Miss Julia Grodavent is busily engaged this year, both as chief librarian in the Car-