Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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tw Fsw,r.i wsE$Msas twswfc The next day they hid the best suits they could find in their tent. They stole as much food as possible without its being missed, wrapped it in a small bundle and hid it. They were so excited they could scarcely stand still. What makes you in such a rush tonight? grumbled the old chief, as Jean ran to and fro preparing the meal. Her heart jumped in her throat and she looked at Don wondering what to say, for she thought they were suspected. Oh — oh, sir, she stammered, for she hated to tell a lie, ' 1 am so tired to- night, I want to go to bed early. It seems strange to hurry when you are tired. You ' d better watch your step, Miss, or you might get a flogging. said the old chief as he leaned back again and puffed on his pipe. Both Jean and Don calmed down and tried to do their work as usual. It was not long until everything was cleared up and the whole camp was quiet. They quietly tied their bundles to their belts, raised the side of the tent and rolled out. They stood still awhile to be sure the dogs had not heard them but everything was quiet. Then with the stars shining brightly over their heads, they set out on their long race for freedom. The next day at noon they reached Oonura, a small seaport. In two hours a freight steamer was to leave for New Orleans. They told the crew their story and asked if they might ride. Their story was verified by their looks; and moved by sympathy, the sailors took them along. Then they collected enough money to pay the children ' s fare home from New Orleans. With their eyes filled with tears of appreciation Don and Jean thanked the men and bade them good-bye. On Wednesday morning, on the fifth of May, the train stopped in Donald ' s home town. Things had changed so much since he had seen it last that he scarcely recognized it. Every one stared at the children in amazement and wondered who they could be. As they wandered down the street to the house Don had left ten years be- fore, a cold feeling ran over him and he wondered if his parents were still living. At first his gray-haired mother did not recognize him, and she could scarcely believe her eyes when she did know that Donald was safely home again. That evening was the happiest ever spent in their lives. The life of Mr. and Mrs. Perrin was turned from one of grief and sorrow to one of greatest happiness. After supper Jean and Donald told their story. Eight years later the Hughes and Perrin families were again filled with joy. but Jean and Don were the happiest. They met in the same little house in which they ended their gypsy life, and there began their happy married life.

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J u By this time little Donald was far from home. That afternoon while he was playing he noticed four large cars stop a short distance from him and the occupants were so strangely dressed that his curiosity brought him into their possession before he knew what he was doing. They immediately seized him and started away with great speed. He cried for his father and mother and refused to keep quiet, so they gaged him with dirty rags. He was with seven other poor, unfortunate children who had been kid- napped in the same way. When the cars finally stopped, Donald found out through the conversations he heard that they were somewhere in Mexico. The evening meal was prepared over a bonfire, and the food Mas nothing but mush and strong meat which had been stolen. The gypsies seemed to relish it, but Donald and his seven other poor companions could not stop crying long enough to eat, and they would not have eaten even if they could, because they were not used to such food. Their guard was very cruel and talked very harshly to them. The children were all dirty and dusty and they wished to wash in some fresh, cool water, but they were sent to bed without this privilege, only to be more miserable. Their bed was nothing but the bare ground under a tent. The first one I hear crying or catch trying to escape, I will flog and he shall do without the next three meals, said the cruel guard. Little Donald cried softly and wondered what his mother thought when he did not come home. He wondered what they were doing and why they didn ' t come after him. He lay awake all night and tried to think of some plan by which he was sure he could escape. Ten y ears had passed and Mr. and Mrs. Perrin were gray and broken in health from grief because, they were sure that Donald was dead, for if he were alive, they felt he would have come home by this time. Donald had grown accustomed to this kind of life, but he still intended to escape some day. Six of his companions were gone. Their parents had paid a large ransom to get them back, but he knew his parents could not have afforded his ransom even if they had known where he was. His only friend was Jean Hughes. She was in the same circumstances as he, except that she was two years younger. They were together most of the time, and since they had never tried to escape, the gypsies had put great confidence in them. It was the night before they were to make their long planned escape. That night they planned how to get everything in readiness and which way to run. $ ; $ ; $ .. $

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--▼5LW Minerva M IXERYA ! Goddess of Wisdom, Olympia ' s daughter and pride. Heiress of ages and nations and peoples. Loved by a race which has lived and died! .Minerva ! Can you recall the time When the banners of Rome were unfurl ' d Toward East and West, o ' er land and sea. Rome, mistress of the world ? Oh ! You were these. Do you recall Great Caesar, whose deeds still glow In the yellow ' d pages of history. Nearly forgotten — so long ago ? And do you remember how he fell? How the statue of Pompey bled ! And that day in hist ' ry is crimson With the blood that Caesar shed. And do you remember the golden age Of knowledge and beauty and power When the marble city, silvery white Above the world did tower In the moonlight? Minerva, think again. Lovely and marble and white — We caught our breath — how it gleamed and shone! Rome, on a moonlit night. And we stand here now when the wrecks of time Have made her a ruined city. But the moon still glows and Rome still gleams. And our hearts are moved with pity; For only in memory still remains. Minerva, in yours and mine. The pride of a city, a race long dead. Which never again shall shine. Rome fell, ah ages and ages atro. It ' s an ancient forgotten story. But Minerva, you and I recall The days of her golden glory. Alice Cobb. ' 26.