Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR drawn deeper and deeper into an unfathomable abyss. I longed to strike the lyre from her hands, and. seizing her. bear her far away. In gay strains the song rang out. and in my vision I saw nymphs dancing on the tops of high mountains, while harps resounded from the clouds above. I looked at the emperor when she had finished. Were there tears of jov in his eyes? I could not see, as they were fixed upon the table. lie had not looked at the singer, but with a smile of approbation lie bade her sing again. And with tears she sang the song of sorrow that had so disturbed me before. Did this awaken memories in Nero's heart? He gazed at the girl, and I saw a faint fiush of remembrance upon his face, as he again sipped the wine at his elbow. 1 drew Fulvia aside, as Seneca and 1 lero once more entered into conversation with Nero. Pale and trembling, she followed me into one of the inner apartments of the palace. Fulvia.” I said, as she reclined on a purple divan, “something in you appeals to my heart. Hast thou confidence enough in me to tell me the storv of thy life?” A rosy hue overspread her pallid features. “Listen,” she said. “When I was a girl of fourteen, my father jjossessed a fine mansion here at Rome. He had married a beautiful woman of Capua, and I was their only child. My father was one of Nero’s most prized counsellors, and for a time one of the emperor’s best friends. But then, ah, evil time! my father invited Nero to our house to attend a ban- quet in his honor. He came, and there he saw my mother. Deeply enamored of her charms, he formed a plan for killing my father. Pretending that he was against a deep political scheme, which was then in operation, he sent two slaves to our house with deadly instructions. Immediately after- ward. the emperor, disguised, as he thought, rode in his chariot to the scene of the murder. The deed had been done. My father lay dead in the garden, and my mother, heart-broken, had thrown herself upon his body. Nero seized her to bear her to his chariot, but lie had no sooner reached the door than she fell from his arms,—dead. For this murder 1. while living in the mountains, swore re- «3 vcngc. Thou canst aid me. On the river below I have moored a boat. Kill the emperor, and leap to the bank from this window. Thou canst escape, and no life but mine shall answer for the deed.” She struck a chord upon the lyre, and again I felt the strange infiuencc upon me. I scizecl my dagger. Promise.” I said, that thou wilt escape with me. and not stay here to suffer for my crime.” M v life is yours.” she whispered, go.” I stole back of the couches until, unnoticed. 1 stood by Nero’s side. 1 raised the dagger in un- hand and made ready to strike. I saw the light ning movement of Seneca’s arm as he struck the dagger from my hand. Immediately the room was filled with armed soldiers, and I was a pris- oner. But suddenly a Hash of light lit up the entire city, and the flames rose high over the roofs of the houses. In great excitement, all rushed to the windows, and I was for the moment free. I turned into the room where I had left the girl, and seized her in my arms. She had seen the attempt to kill the emperor and its failure. I bore her to the win- dow and dropped lightly to the soft ground below. On all sides, as far as the eye could reach. Rome was in flames. ’Tis the justice of heaven.” mur- mured Fulvia, and together we walked unmolested to the river bank, where the boat was moored. Placing her in the bow, I took the paddle and headed for the centre of the river, where the swift current would soon take us out to sea. The river was full of boats, yet no one molested us. Thus we sailed toward the open sea. while the burning city lit our course like a torch. “Canst thou forgive me?” said Fulvia, as we landed, after a perilous voyage, upon the shores of Sicily. “Yes,” I answered, for I love you. Fulvia, let us together seek some far distant corner of the world, where the rage of Nero canst not reach, and there, as mv wife, thou may’st know happiness, even as in the old days so long past.” She smiled sadly, then the light of joy passed over her face, and she raised her eyes timidly to mine. Resolutions. Whereas, by the Divine will of God. our class mate. Arthur Kcach, has been bereaved of his father; Whereas, we, the members of the class of 190(5. have learned with deep sorrow of his loss; there- fore be it Resolved, that the class of 190(5 hereby express their great sorrow and heartfelt sympathy to him in his bereavement: and be it further Resolved, that a copy of these resolutions be sent to him, and published in the High School Radiator. ALFRED L. DcNOYER. President. Whereas by the will of Divine Providence, our former classmate. Chester Cuddy, has been be- reaved of his father; and Whereas, we. the class of 190(5. have learned with sorrow of his affliction: be it therefore Resolved, that we tender him our heartfelt sym- pathy in his sorrow, and be it further Resolved, that a copy of these resolutions be sent to Chester Cuddy, and also published in the Radiator. ARTHUR R. CORWIN. President. IRMA CHRISTOPHER. Secretary.

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12 SOMKRVILLF HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR A DAUGHTER OF APOLLO. By Harold S. Libby, L., '04. T TTT was a «lark night. The moon was r fy ifr1 struggling with the clouds, now bath- iwl W ! ing the mountains in a silver light. and now sinking in darkness. 1 ' ■ urged my horse on, hoping that the light which flashed faintly before me might herald a shelter for myself and my steed until the elements should permit me to resume my jour- ney toward Rome. My hope was fulfilled. The light proved to he in a small hut which the moun- tains hedged in dismallv. I dismounted, and. knocking at the door, shivered in the cold, as I waited for some response from the occupant. The door was at last opened by an old man. clad in the habitual raiment « f the Italian peasant. I craved shelter, which he at first refused, but finally granted, and I entered the hut. which was built of logs, loughly hewn, and bound together with a pliant and tough reed. Inside, the walls were bare, and there were many chinks between the logs, which, were it not for the bright fire that gleamed in an open clav stove, would have made the hut a decidedly cold habitation. The peasant made haste to prepare me a frugal supper. As he did so. the door opposite the corner in which I was sitting in the shadow opened, and a young girl entered the room. She was dressed in a white mantle, which hung to her feet and trailed in wavy folds about her. She sat down on a low bench near the fire, not noticing that a stranger was in the room. and. resting her face upon her hands, apparently sank into a reverie. I studied her face as the taciturn peasant busied himself near the fire. It was an attractive face, shaded bv black hair, which hung about her shoulders and gave her a wild, fantastic appearance. Her eyes were brown, large, and expressive, with a mournful expression in their depths. In one hand she held a lyre. and. suddenly breaking from her lethargy, she struck its strings, and in a sweet voice began to sing. As I listened, a thrill as of an electric shock shot through mv brain. Deeply susceptible to music as I was, I had never been moved thus before. The wild tones rang out in the small room, and each one cut my heart like a knife, thrilling me with a strange sensa- tion. but whether of joy or woe I knew not. Had my mind felt the influence of a soul stronger and purer than my own? As quickly as she had begun to sing, she changed the theme. In mournful ac- cents. a dirge rang out. the sad. restless cry of a broken heart. I could bear it no more, and in agony I bade her stop. The harp almost fell from her hand, as she quickly arose. I saw the fright- ened look upon her face, and the fluttering of her breast as she gazed at me. The old peasant made haste to reassure her. and. finally composed, she sat down once more upon the bench. “Fair maid.” I said, thy singing is surely the gift of Apollo, but its mournful strains awoke un- pleasant and sorrowful memories of days which I would fain forget. Hast thou no more joy- ous songs which bring happiness to the heart and gladness to the soul, songs such as our emperor the blessed Nero loves to hear?” At the mention of Nero's name she turned pale, but after a moment replied. “The emperor hast truly the blessed taste of Apollo. Indeed, I have such songs. They are not suited to my melancholy nature, perhaps, yet 1 could sing them even unto Nero, did he so command me.” ‘ 1 am journeying to Rome to-morrow,” I said. Wilt thou come with me and sing before the em- peror? Thou shalt be rewarded as none have been before. Nero himself shall place a diadem of myrtle upon thy brow.” She sat thoughtful for a moment, and then re- plied. I have a friend at the imperial city who will bid me welcome if I may thither journey with you. I trust you to lead me before the emperor, and I will sing to him of the noise of battle, and he will exult, of the dance of the nymphs, and he will laugh, of the funeral, and he will weep. I will draw tears from his eves,’ tears }f jov and sorrow.” She arose, and, drawing her mantle about her. prepared to leave the room. Hast thou a name as sweet as thy voice?” I asked. She answered simply. Tis Fulvia.” Fulvia.” I murmured, as she left the room, “may the gods keep thee.” It was night in the palace of Nero. On low couches around an immense table in the room of state reclined many men and women: the men in white togas, the women in ornamented gowns of white, with their hair garlanded with flowers. Nero reclined on a separate couch at the head of the table. Unlike the others, he was dressed in a blue toga, and on his large head was placed a crown of flowers. He sipped his wine occasionally, while he conversed now and then with Seneca, who sat on his right, and with the other members of the com- pany. To this room I led Fulvia with her lyre, having previously requested permission of the emperor, and waited with her until the emperor, tired of talk- ing. should call for music. I filled a wine bowl for Fulvia, but she would not drink. In silence she sat. her eves fixed upon the face of Nero, while one hand shaded her face from the unaccustomed light. Suddenly the emperor set his half-emptied wine bowl aside, and said. Where is the maid who was to sing to me? Twas thou, Laeca, who brought ;o my ears the tale of a mountain nymph with the music of Apollo. Where is she?” “She is here. Caesar. I said. and. taking the girl's hand, I led her into full view of the company. The emperor did not look up. “Sing.” he said. And the girl sang. Again I felt the benumbing in- fluence stealing over me. I felt that I was being

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'4 SOMKRYILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR BARBARA’S KINDNESS. HE long, golden day was drawing to a close. It was getting too dark to read any longer, and the girl on the vine-covered porch of the little white house closed her book with a sigh of contentment, and lay hack in the hammock. Evening drew on so quickly that soon the little gate at the end of the path to the street was lost amid the enveloping darkness. Suddenly a man stealthily pushed open the wicket gate and slipped into the yard, running with noiseless step to the little copse of wood, about ten yards from the piazza, where he sank down amid the shadows, and waited. The girl on the piazza, like a startled deer, lifted her head and listened, ap- prehensively. but all was silent. It was now en- tirely dark, and again the girl leaned back and closed her eyes. A few moments passed thus in silence, when suddenly a low whistle startled her. Again she started to her feet and strained her eyes into the darkness. Then, from the shadow of the wood, the tall form of a man arose and came quickly to the frightened girl. For a second neither spoke, but in that second, which seemed hours to both, the girl noticed that the man was young, tall, and well formed, and that his hair was shaved closely to his head. Then, in a gleam of moonlight, she saw his earnest, deter- mined eyes fixed on hers. The man broke the silence. Don't be fright- ened. he said in a deep, not unmusical voice. 1 won’t hurt you.” Then lie went on hurriedly. You see. I had heard of you—knew how good you were, and I've watched my chance.—I know you won’t turn me away when 1 tell you all.” The girl shrank back, her hands clasped to her breast. The young fellow, with a quick motion, thing off the long coat he wore and stood before her—his head bowed on his chest—clad in the suit of a convict. Then he raised his head with a quick motion. Don’t be frightened.” he said again. I am an escaped convict, but I am innocent of the crime charged against me. I know they all say that, but I am honest. I got away last night, and have lain in hiding all day. Just as soon as night came on, I came here. I had heard that good people lived here, and that you had a kind heart. I am famished and can’t go on. I throw myself on your mercy: it is in your power to give me up. If you do. I'll have to go back and serve double my time, and when I come out a free man, my ambi- tions. my life will be blasted. If you save me— I’ll go away, ’way out West somewhere, and make a new man of myself.” While lie had been speaking, the girl had stood, her hands clasped before her. her eyes fixed on the convict. When he finished, she was silent a mo- ment. and the man hung eagerly on her every ex- pression. which was a combination of contempt for his appeal for protection and admiration for his straightforwardness. Then her eyes flashed, and she quickly held out one hand to the young man. Come ’ she said. The convict followed her without a word, as she led the way through the door, into the hall, and up the stairs. Just as she reached the second floor, she stopped. Remove your shoes,” she whis- pered. He did so, and none too soon, for as they passed a half-open door, a querulous voice de- manded. Barbara. where arc you going? Bar- bara stood still a moment, and then said clearly, Nothing, granny. Just going to my room for something.” They passed on in silence, until they came to a large room. Barbara pushed open the door, lit the candle on the dresser, and. turning, faced the man squarely. You have been frank with me, she said. I will be so with you. I live here alone with my grandparents and one servant. To-night grand- father will not be at home, and I am alone with grandmother, who is a helpless cripple. Something tells me you arc honest, and so I trust you. Re- main in this room, and I will bring you food.” She slipped out. and returned in a few moment with some cold meat, bread, and wine. Now.” she said, stay here, if any one comes, go into that closet. At the farther end of it is a low door. That door leads into a small space between the walls. If anything happens, go into that closet. There you will be perfectly safe, and I will come in the morning.” So she left him. All through the night the young fellow sat near the window, straining to catch every sound, while in his anxiety he imag- ined the tramp of many feet in every cricket-chirp. Slowly the long night wore away, and just as morn- ing dawned, chill and gray, he fell into a tired and troubled sleep. After leaving her prisoner. Barbara went to her grandfather’s room, and hunted around until she found an old suit of clothes. Then, in a box. she found some old mementoes of her grandfather’s youth, including a false wig and mustache, probably some addition to an old masquerade costume. These she folded into a bundle and retired to her room, only to spend a sleepless night. Early next morning Barbara awoke the young man and hastened down to the kitchen, where she prepared a hasty meal. Then, calling him. she bade him eat. When he had finished, she gave him the bundle and told him to disguise himself as best he could. The man retired, and came back in a few mo- ments. looking more like a respectable young man from the country, and less like a desperate, escaped convict. Barbara laughed merrily. “Now,” she said, you must go. Don’t go by the road, but out