St Clair High School - Clairvoyant Yearbook (St Clair, MI)

 - Class of 1917

Page 31 of 72

 

St Clair High School - Clairvoyant Yearbook (St Clair, MI) online collection, 1917 Edition, Page 31 of 72
Page 31 of 72



St Clair High School - Clairvoyant Yearbook (St Clair, MI) online collection, 1917 Edition, Page 30
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St Clair High School - Clairvoyant Yearbook (St Clair, MI) online collection, 1917 Edition, Page 32
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Page 31 text:

Because He LoVed It was late afternoon in the cold, blowy autumn day. The wind was swishing dismally. Across a vacant lot the pines were mournfully creaking. A long, clear, treble whistle sounded in the distance. The man sitting, prop- ped up by a pillow, before the window hitched his chair yet closer, and gazed out with eager, longing eyes. Again the whistle trilled away into silence. Crossing the vacant lot was a large brown and white collie, followed by a girl who was walking swiftly, being whipped along by the wind. Catching sight of the man’s face in the window, she waved her hand vigorously. A light quick footfall was heard on the steps and across the veranda. “Down, Tim, down,” the sweet voice said imperiously. The door opened and closed loudly, and the girl bounded impetuously into the room. “This is the kind of day I like. Uncle Don,” she exclaimed, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “You look as if you enjoyed it,” he answered, watching her bright face. The large brown eyes sparkled merrily, and the cheeks glowed rosy red. “The wind was kind, today. He blew Tim and me home so quickly ! O dear! how my hair is tumbled!” She endeavored to straighten the curly brown locks that had strayed too far from under the brown tam-o’shanter, and to tighten the long brown, braid. “It really is too fine a day for you to be sitting here as long as you did! 1 am sorry I have kept von waiting so long.” “You didn’t keep me waiting, dear. I decided not to go out, anyway. It s too windy.” The girl dropped to the footstool beside her uncle. “Why, Uncle Donny ! The very idea! As though it were too windy for you to go out for a veranda walk, anyway. Just a minute! Don t move! I 11 get your coat and things.” At that moment a plump middle-aged woman, the housekeeper, appeared in the doorway leading to another room. “My, Marguerite, you look like roses this afternoon. There’s a glass of milk and some crackers on the kitchen table. Don t you want them ? “Well,. I should say so! You always have something for me to eat just at the right time, Mrs. Hunter. I’ll be back,” she called gaily to her uncle as she sped into the kitchen. A little later, the man was walking slowly up and down the wide veran- da, muffled up to his chin, while Marguerite was lending her supporting arm. “This wind is doing you lots of good. You’re looking almost well, Uncle Don.” She gazed steadfastly into the face which showed strength of character but was pale and thin from a wasting fever. Her glance rested on the grey sprinkled dark hair, lingering on the white shock above the temples, then traveled to the steady blue eyes, which were as dancing and twinkling as ever. They walked in silence for a few minutes, the dog following leisurely at iheir heels. “I was over to Jess’s after school.” remarked Marguerite. “Jess’s aunt, who is visiting there, said I looked just like mother. I ncle Don, won t you tell me about her again. I like the story because it s partly about me. 27

Page 30 text:

the years had rolled backward to the i8 ' .o’s. The field was an array of tents gaily adorned with t he Stars and Stripes; to the right were trenches, filled with Quaker cannon ; then there stood long lines of horses, — and sentinels guarded the general’s tent; men lay behind the breastworks and the cook was busy in his tent. Presently, Fox, satisfied that all was ready roared out the order, “Clear camp of all but necessities, — Confederate Brigade! get ready behind the trees ’ The two operators began to turn the handles Of their machines, and the picture began. 1 he appointed men strolled about the camp; the cook went his rounds with broth ; men fed horses. Fox seemed to notice all but there was one thing his eye missed. No one had glanced toward the house,— if they had they would have seen a drawn, wdiite face, peering through an upper casement. But illiam Fox only noticed his work and shouted, “Clear for the spy! His command was obeyed, for a man on a galloping horse rushed from tl e trees, and standing in his saddle shouted, “The Rebels are coming Then followed confusion. The general rushed from his tent and the bugler gave the alarm. The whole camp was alive, and the picket rode back among the trees. Hardly had he disappeared when a puff of smoke was seen and the same horse came galloping back, — its rider limp in the saddle. Then came more smoke and the men behind the breastworks began to fire. Suddenly from somewhere through the trees rang a high, frenzied, al- most inhuman voice, box stared. “Close on em boys,” the voice command- ed, “go through ’em, go!” The men firing, as if suddenly stricken, ceased to glance behind them, irom whence the voice came. Fox yelled angrily. “What are you stopping for, go on, I say, go on!” and again the firing began. 1 h rough the smoke someone was seen leaping upon the breastworks and again the same deathly voice rang out in a piercing battle cry. Now, through the smoke was the figure seen,— a spectre of Death, a ghost of a departed soul, it seemed. A gray Confe derate uniform covered the form of the almost flesh less body, gaunt and high as a giant s, white hair fell beneath the plum- ed hat and a bloodless face, with staring eyes pierced through the smoke. For a moment the body hesitated. In one hand streamed an old Confederate ban- ner, in the other a gleaming sabre flashed. His high cracked voice rang out again, “Come on boys, right through ’em, come on.” Already the men behind the opposite breastworks had fled, and now the remaining ran as he jumped down among them. Fox stared, helpless. The men at the bioscopes had ceased turning the handles. Suddenly awakening box yelled in fury, “Keep them turning, you fools, keep it going.” But the war picture suddenly ended,— a picture of an old man who fell dead as he pulled down the Stars and Stripes, — a picture of frenzied triumph, of old age clutching old Glory and reeling to earth with it clasped to his Con- federate heart. —GLADYS KELLEY, ’19. 26



Page 32 text:

“It ' s a sad tale, dear, but as you say, it is partly your own story. I think J can tell it today. Marguerite rested her face on his arm as the walked, and listened ear- nestly as he began : “Dick and 1 were brothers as different as two young men could be. Dick, as I have pictured him so often to you, darling, was handsome, daring and in- teresting. 1. two years younger, had none of these qualities. Mere Marguerite shook her head, laughingly in denial. He was very popular, resumed her uncle, while no one noticed me. He got into wild ways, however, and at first was inclined to be lazy. But he braced up and got to work. Then one day, at a party, we both met Miss Marguerite Shirley, a newcomer to Hill-top. Dick was twenty-four then, I twenty-two, and we found out that Miss Shirley was twenty-one. Of course, everyone fell in love with her, including Dick and me. Finally, we brothers were the two between whom she was to make her great choice. She chose Dick. hen she told me her decision she said, ‘I want you to remember that, you will always be welcome at our home, and that we want you for our best friend and brother.’ ” That was all; but Marguerite Shirley was mv first and only real love and I never forgot her. After eight years of the happiest wedded life, you. Marguerite, about five years old, were the only child. Then one day Dick invested all their careful savings in a most promis- ing invention, which turned out to be a dismal failure. I think he was partly crazed with the anxiety of it all. He went back to his old, wild ways, and then lost his position. They grew poorer and poorer. One day. Marguerite caught cold while she was going out sewing, which developed int o pneu- monia. She died. The man’s voice was hushed and husky, and there were tears in his eye. . “Before she died she summoned me, and asked me to care for you, dear. 1 promised. Dick came back in time for the funeral, which was held from our old home, shocked and changed by the news of Marguerite’s death. After the services he said, ‘Don, I’m going to be a man, now. I’m going out to a friend s ranch in California, and make good or die. Keep Marguerite until I come for her.’ Then he made you promise that you would always love him, and would be willing to go back with him when he came. I remember that, ' put in the girl softly. He has since sent money for your expenses, and he always says that he will come back sometime. And when he does I must keep my promise. But, O Uncle Don! I don’t want to leave you ! Still, when I think of Daddy being so lonely way off there it seems as if I could make any kind of a sacrifice.” “I know how you feel,” the man whispered, partly to himself. How can I give you up after all these years! Oh, why am I given just a taste of l eaven and then to see you go from me forever! But what am I saying, he continued, rebukingly, I made my promise to Dick. His life has indeed been weary since she died. He must have the reward that he has been striv- ing for all these year! He bent down and kissed the sympathetic sad face at his side. I spoke hastily, darling. However, you cannot help but realize how hard it will be to part. 28

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