Washington Seminary - Facts and Fancies Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

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It was the recollection of this incident and the following ones that were closing the last chapter of Margaret's life. She remembered so clearly Jim's reaction to her refusal to return to her old life. He had scoffed at her and insulted her by saying, After all, Margaret, isn't it a little ridiculous-a woman of your-. She hadn't allowed him to Hnish. 'fYou,ve said enough, Jim, please leave me, she had commanded. He had left and not until he had gone had Margaret permitted the tears to run freely down her cheeks. Johnny, the youngest child, had crept in and, putting a comforting hand on hers, had said, Don't cry, Petrry Lady, I'll never leave you if you'll only smilef' She had smiled then and many times after that when she had wanted to cry, but only for Johnny's sake. She loved the other children but it was Johnny she adored. She had lived for them alone, neither making new friends nor return- ing to her old ones. She asked nothing of life except happiness for them. As the years slipped by, they grew into splendid men and women, going gradually into lives of their own, that is, all except Johnny. He had been content and happy in the comradeship of Margaret and scien- tific research. He had left only a year ago for South America where he was in- volved in daring investigation. His letters were frequent and he often sent quaint little gifts from out-of-the-way shops. She knew they had not given her the let- ters from him for fear of exciting her. She knew now that excitement would not matter. I-Ier thoughts were voiced and a startled nurse ran to do her bidding. She returned soon and Margaret selected the WINTER The sky in the West is crimson and gold Behind the barren trees And the winds are biting and bitter cold, Roaring, as angry seas. The shadows are lengthening, gruesome and grey, Making the world unreal, Distorting their features out over the bay As cold as frosty steel. latest one. Tears filled those failing eyes as she read, My dearest Pretty Lady: 'tToday is the day of the final and most dangerous experiment. After it, I'll soon be home with you and we can . . .H She read no further. She had not al- lowed word of her illness to be sent to him for fear of disturbing his work. Now she realized there would be no i'Pretty Ladyn when he returned. Her thoughts were interrupted as a maid entered bringing her a letter. It was from South America, but the writing was strange. She sum- moned her remaining strength to open it. It was from Johnny's instructor sympa- rhetically and tactfully informing her of Johnny's courageous death. He wrote that his last words had been, Write to Pretty Lady, but tell her to smilef' For once she did not smile. Instead, she turned her eyes to heaven and silently prayed, Dear God, He is there with you now. I haven't been worthy always but he believed in me. It was his belief that led me to you in happiness or distress. I ask now, dear Father, that, if I wasn't too late in starting, I may come to you and Johnny now? As the tired old heart was beating its last, she visualized an angel of beauty standing with outstretched arms beside her bed saying, Come, my child, God is good. He forgiveth all sins. The nurse stepped to the bedside, not realizing the happiness with which that soul had gone to its eternal resting place. DUSK The hush of life falls over all Except for the blasting breeze As the sun sinks low, a fiery ball, Leaving last rays, to freeze. The sun drops low, the crimson dies, The gold has left my sight, The small bat swoops and flopping flies, The symbol of winter night. -Elizabvlfa Trz'sz'zll'r.

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f , -flfai rf lf Xiflgf ff 1,1 l ,f X i - ..,1 WI - .QNX f Ar pq F U fiifewon0Xeizf EVER Too LATE fe K fThird Place in the short story can fesf 5 X EEEE L jk f l E yy i j , Ss, , ,ef C1 l 2221. Margaret Gates lay still in the bed where she had lain for many months. She had regained consciousness for the first time in several weeks. A physician and two nurses stood by the bed watching the gaunt figure in the heir-loom four-poster as the life she had so beautifully lived for others slowly ebbed away. They silently waited for some last word or wish to issue from her lips, but no word came. Margaret Gates realized there was no earthly future for her, and, knowing this, she desired to lie quietlv and during her few remaining hours live in the past. She was seemingly unaware of the at- tendants, as she gazed intently at a pho- tograph which was ever present at her bedside. It was the photograph of a young man, a young man whose eyes sparkled with humor, whose mouth was kind but Hrm and whose face showed in every fea- ture the sheer joy of being alive. It was to this face she turned her eyes, for it was John, her nephew, who alone had aided her to become the woman she had dreamed of being as a girl. As she looked at the picture, she turned back the pages of her memory thirty-four years to the night that had been the cli- max of her life. Margaret had been an orphan of wealthy parents. She had ignored the existence of relatives other than her sister, Eleanor, and her sister's four children. She was then twenty and had lived the last few years of her life in her own free way, throwing conven- tions to the wind, laughing at the shocked glances and smothered whispers which always followed her entrance wherever she happened to go. She was not happy. If she stopped to think, she would, disgusted and dis- illusioned, go to the home of her sister and revel in the innocence of the chil- dren. So loving and tender was she with them that they adopted for her the name Pretty Lady. It was the realization of the children's devotion to Margaret that sent Eleanor to her in an effort to make her abandon the wild life she was lead- ing. Margaret had only said, 'Tm sorry, Eleanor, there are so many things lid like to do differently, but it's too late now.', Only two weeks after Margaret's twenty-second birthday, she had been called to the bedside of her sister, whose body had been wretchcdly broken in an accident. Eleanor had turned suffering eyes to Margaret and recalling her child- hood name for her had said, I'm going soon, Peg. I can't take the children. It . . . happened suddenly. No . . . ar- rangements . . . Be good . . . to them, Peg ,... and love them. Margaret had not left the children except for dire necessity since her sister's death. In adapting herself to their moods, de- sires and atmosphere, gentle and comfort- ing, she had forgotten the hard, sophis- ticated circle of her friends until the en- trance of Jim Markly, a worthless cad who had been a most important figure in her past days. His very presence in the room of her new environment seemed sacrilegious to her.

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FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER ByELIZABl2TH L'ENcLu A building particularly interesting to me at the Century of Progress Exposition in Chicago is the Cyclorama, in which is housed the Pantheon de la Guerref' a large panoramic painting of the World War and its heroes. The various allied nations are represented in this painting. Six thousand heroes are shown in life-like portraits, all who have received the War Cross or who have been mentioned in dispar ghes. The larger nations in the Allied Forces are giver individual panels or separate sections. Smaller countries are given recognition in combinations. ln each the outstanding men af the time of the W'o:'lti War are depicted. Th e most significant panel is that of France, the Temple of Victory. A great staircase topped by a statue of the Winged Victory constitutes a background for more than five thousand heroes of France from every form of the service. This panel dominates the entire cyclorama, even more compellingly than the im- pressive tribute to the unknown dead of France, opposite. The memorial to the unknown dead is very simple. It is a cenotaph in front of which there is the solitary Hgure of a woman kneeling. She represents France and could be mother, sweetheart, or sis- ter, mourning her hero, loved all the wore for his supreme sacrihce. The back- ground for the cenotaph is a grove of cypress trees that suggests a great silent expanse. On 1 ne side of the Temple of Victory, the French Armies are pictured as return- ing home triumphant. Farther to the right is the English group-King George V., the Prince of Wales, David Lloyd George, with war nurses, leaders of the army and navv grouped about them. Edith Cavell is pictured farther to the right and with her, Captain Fryatt, both martyrs to the Allied cause. Still farther to the right may be seen the noble King of Belgium, Albert I., the W A V E S Waves- Turbulent, raging, Cursing the shore with a hiss. Waves- Gentle, caressing, Greeting the shore with a kiss. -Ioan Roof. royal family, and Cardinal Mercier. In front of this section, in a mass of wreck- age, may be distinguished altar vessels and crucifixes. The army and navy form a background for this scene. Italy, too, is represented alorg with her famous leaders, perhaps not as well known as those of the other Allies. Vic- tor Emanuel III, and his staff, also, the poet Gabriel d' Annunzio, who had a large part in raising the army, dominates this group. And in a lesser portion of the panel are shown the heroes of Portugal. This section terminates at the memorial panel featuring the cenotaph. Immediately following the latter comes the section in which the United States dominates. The first feature in this is the group from China, a recognized protege of the United States-workmen in the war factories. The United States is symbolized by a bust of Washington. Five types of American manhood on whom this country drew heavily during the World War are shown-the business man, the cowboy, the Indian, and the worker, led by a West Point Cadet who stands for the trained oflicers. Beneath the bust of Washington, President Wilson is shown reading his War Message and in the group behind him stand Theodore Roosevelt and Williana Howard Taft, ex- presidents, and Herbert Hoover, a later president. The leaders of the army and navy are shown in the foreground. Among these Pershing is significant. Following in close succession are the sections devoted to Montenegro, Serbia, japan, Russia, and Roumania. Next is shown the return of the flags. This brings the cyclorama again to the wonderful Temple of Victory. The battlenelds of France form the background of the cyclorama as they looked from 1914 to 1918. The entire effect of this beautiful painting, the largest in the world, is avxe-inspiring. It is the tribute of many great artists to the living and dead heroes of the World War. A ROSE Tears of God Shed in happiness Of I-Iis handiwork, The world grew one day, Blooming with paled colors In a rose. -Iifizulwllz 7'i'r'xnfi'i'.