South High School - Tiger Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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“Well, inv friend. he observed with a dry smile. “I've got you for good, now. 'fen years had passed. It was a dreary Xoveml)er day. The state prison stood out sharply against the somber sky.—a great gray mass of stone. A young girl of about twenty years entered the gate. She would have been very l cautiful. hut for the lines of weariness and distress that showed on her face. battering the court, the young lady addressed a guard. “I was told that I might see Air. Rollington today. she said. “Mr. Rollington? Oh. yes. the man who is dying. Are you Miss Rollington “Yes. sir.” “Very well. Croft. he called, “here is the young lady to see old Rollington. Miss Rollington was shown into a small, nearly bare room. Close to the one window was a narrow cot on which lay a white-haired man. Ilis eyes were closed, but he was not asleep, for he turned as the door was opened. “Dorothea, my darling! The old man’s face brightened as he s| oke. “How thankful I am that you were allowed to see me today, for I feel that I must talk with you before I die. )h, my daughter. 1 can only hoj e and pray that you will not fail miserably, as I have done! Sit down here l esidc me. Dorothea, for I have much to say to you “Dorothea, each person in this world was born with one great opi ortunity to win. He may make what he will of this, for it is his own and no one can take it from him. Different people interpret this opjx rtunity in various ways. Some use it to amass a great fortune, others to rise to the highest pinnacles of fame. These ])eoplc often have their efforts rewarded. They acquire that for which they sought, but, strange to say, they are seldom happy. A fortunate few. however, discover the right use for their opjxrrtunity. In it they see a chance to serve their heavenly Master to the utmost, bv living pure lives and by helping their fellow-men. These are the | eople who know what true happiness is. not only in this life, but in the hereafter, for when they reach the end. and apj ear before the Father, they are the ones to hear those blessed words. ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant.’ “1 was not one of these latter ones. I looked uj on my opportunity as a toy. I tried to use it to make my life as easy as possible, and in doing this. I only succeeded in making it harder, not only for myself, but for all about me. I was so unfair to your mother that Cod took her from me. I treated you wretchedly, leaving you to the care of anyone who would take pity on you. “I think, however, that somewhere in my wicked heart. I cherished a love for you. It was this lov6 that brought me here, and. not only that, but it has finally saved my soul. I believe. For, in spite of all my wickedness. I am sure that my Lord has forgiven me. For our God is a forgiving God. and will save all who truly repent. Hut. oh. Dorothea. I ask for your sake that you use me for a horrible example. I have failed miserably in this world, and can only pray for redemption in the next. Mv last hope is that your life may follow a better course. If I am assured of this, I will die willingly. With this the old man turned on his cot and lay motionless. Dorothea leaned over him with tear-blinded eyes. The old man had said that his life was a failure, but was it? Was this talk worth nothing? Were the high ideals he had at last realized no credit to him? Is a man’s life a failure, if he has lieen sinful, but finally presents to God a blood-washed and repentant soul ? ;.v- o Page 25

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 Opportunity By Jean Webb Rollington entered the home of Madam Rouen quietly. To be sure, most l ople who entered this palace of thick carpets and awe-inspiring portraits, at all. entered it quietly, hut there was something unusual in Rollington’s actions. In the first place, midnight is not the usual time for visiting: in the second place, welcome visitors were always ushered in in state. But Rollington was not a welcome guest at the Rouen mansion. In fact, he had been forced out of the house and into prison more than once. This accounted for the stealthy way iti which he grojied along, careful lest he arouse the household by some unnecessary noise. For Rollington was a member of the despicable class.—the class of thieves. Rollington stood for some time at the end of a hall. livery muscle was tense, iiach of his senses seemed to be strained to catch the slightest indication of danger. Rollington knew that, even in the sheltering dark of midnight, he was in great peril, for when one has escap'd from the hands of the law to the extent of three times, one is very daring to offend justice again. Rollington knew this, and he realized that, should he l e captured this time, he would never have another chance. Finally, his alert mind satisfied. Rollington crept cautiously down the hall. Opening a door at the left, he entered a room. Here, two splotches of gray designated windows. In this semi-darkness. Rollington was better able to proceed. Suddenly he stopjxjd. In his skilled mind, he felt the presence of another j)crson. Yes, a small white figure gro] ed its way toward him. Then a childish voice spoke. “Daddy, is that you?” Then the jjast grimly pointed an accusing linger at Rollington. and the daring man trembled. Like a flash there came to him the painful recollection of the tinv child whom he had left to the mercy of the pitying neighljors. while he wandered to all parts of the country, continually evading the upholders of the law. It was two months since he had last seen this fair little (laughter, so like her l eautiful mother who had left them alone in the world three years l cfore. “Daddy.” the little girl was saying. “Madam Rouen said you would l e here tonight, and that’s why she brought me here. She called up somelx dy and told him so. and she said she’d take care of me. The child prattled on. not knowing what this information meant to her father. She little suspected who it was that Madam Rouen had telephoned. But Rollington knew. He also knew that even now a band of men might l e pursuing him. How could he get away without telling his daughter? Of course she must not know. Rollington had always shielded his evils from her knowledge, and he dared not frighten her with startling revelations now. He stood there in a state of mental conflict. His love for his daughter forced him to keep his errand a secret, while his burglar’s instinct bade him go. What should he do? In this delay, however. Rollington lost all opjx rtunity to escape. His quick ear caught the sound of the opening of a door, and the heavy steps and low voices of men. It was too late now to consider evading his followers. Rollington drew his daughter to him. “Dear little Dorothea! he murmured, as he gave her a last kiss. Then a band of strong men. accompanied by a stately lady, entered the room. Dorothea screamed and clung to her father when she saw them, but she was finally taken away by Madam Rouen. The leader of the band of men turned to Rolling-ton. who was waiting expectantly. ■ .v - -W. . 3.V.. Pl»RC 24

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An Historical Letter By Dorothy Thompson Cedar woods. Williamsburg. Mass.. October 13. 1781. Dearest Cousin: I don’t know whether this will reach you or not. The “redcoats” are invading every house and holding up every vehicle for miles around, and keep a sharp lookout for messages of war or valuable information which might he risked on the highways. I received a note from Grace yesterday. She sent it from Boston, and it took a week just to come twenty-nine miles. l eing held up by the Loyalists in New Devonshire on the way. Take stock in this, this letter will not l e trusted to carriage or mail-route, hut I think Old Black Tom will see that it gets there all right. He is going to wait for an answer, liecause I am more than anxious to hear from you. Of all the thrills that arc being passed around now, I will tell you one which was given to me which I will not Ik forgetting very soon. John was called to headquarters last Saturday morning, and Mammy, Old Black Tom. Mrs. Perkins, and 1 were left to guard the valuables. Evidently we didn’t present a very aweinspiring api earancc. for that very evening a measured gallop was heard on the drive, and fifteen “redcoats” invaded the place. They were hunting for John, of course, but I was thankful I could truthfully say that John was not on the grounds. The Major of the band was to arrive the next morning with three other guards, and—Oh! Nancy, now comes the biggest shock of all! When I ojjened the door to let the Major of the redcoats” in. I found myself face to face with Grace’s brother. Harry! 1 could do nothing but stand and stare. Harry in the dress of an English Major was so different from the Harry of the Philadelphia horse races, that I had known so well! That evening I gained courage to ask him what they wanted of John. This was his answer: “Mary. I may have done wrong in joining the English forces, hut 1 believe in their cause, and it is against any man's principles to fight for a cause in which he does not believe. I am able to face mv friends and relatives in jjeace, even if my ideas differ from theirs so widely; hut. friend. I will have to fail in the mission I sought to ] erform when 1 came here. I cannot take John prisoner. If you lKlieve in me at all. tell me the direction John took, that I and my men may take the opj ositc one. I cannot face John.” Nancy, he was so sincere, and so in earnest. I could only tell him. The next morning I Lade him good-bye, and he and his men turned toward the north. John had gone south. Write me a long letter when you answer, for I will l»e so glad to hear from vou. Your affectionate cousin. Mary J. Winslow. PiiRe 26