Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY Well, said the captain thoughtfully, will you give your word of honor there is no Northern spy in that bag? Naturally Mary could not say that, but she answered quickly, There is no traitor to my country in this bag or in this house. The captain seemed satisfied with this an- swer and asked, Have you seen anybody go past the house ? Yes, but only a Confederate trooper. That was the spy in disguise! Which way did he go? South to the Confederate lines. To horse, men ; follow him ! Then turn- ing to Mary, Thank you for permitting us to search your house. I hope I may see you again in the future. Good-bye. With a sigh of relief Mary watched the troopers out of the house. Then she helped the almost smothered Northerner out of the bag. In answer to the question in his eye, she stated simply, I ' m for the Northern cause. In a few moments he had been given nour- ishment and specific directions for reaching the Northern lines. Even Louise felt sympathy for the stran- ger as he told of the struggles he had gone through and the risks he had endured to get information for the Federal Army. I thought I was done for when I turned down this road. But I was desperate and made up my mind to take at least this one chance for safety. I surely never expected to find the protection you have offered. And his eyes told eloquently the story of his grat- itude. It is Christmas Day, he said, as he took Mary ' s hand in parting. You have given me my life, and I hope that I may return to thank you for it. And he was gone. Christmas Day, Mary echoed softly, as she watched him disappear down the path. I thank God I had this chance to help the Northern cause. A Christmas of 1919 Pakt 2. It was Christmas Day, 1919. The whole family was gathered around the fireplace. All faces, radiated the good cheer which comes from eating a good, well-cooked Christmas dinner. To think, said Ed, that two years ago today I was in France. Believe me, it sure- ly was a thankful day for me too. Oh ! tell us about it, cried Dorothy, the daughter of the family. Well, you know I don ' t want to bore you. You won ' t, they chorused. Very well. That Christmas I was driv- ing my motor ambulance from A to the first line hospital. The Boches were not harassing the road as much as usual, so I had an easy time of it. After a couple of trips in, I was laid off for an hour and a half to have my dinner. For us it was the same old ' bully beef and ' hard tack ' , only we could have a double allowance. One of the boys had had his tin helmet blown off that morning, and as he had a much more dan- gerous task than mine, I loaned him my helmet. But you might have needed it, exclaimed Dorothy. In France, grimly replied her brother, one never thinks of one ' s self at all; it ' s always the other fellow. Well, as I was saying, I loaned him my lid. When I reached the danger zone, the guard, a young Frenchman, told me the Boches were getting more active. Then remarking that I had no helmet on, he said I had better put it on. ' But I haven ' t one ' , I said. He offered me his, but I refused it on the ground that he would need it more than I, as he was right out in the open, and I at best had a roof over my head. But he insisted, and, after a hot argument I took it. I was just starting up when along comes a piece of shrapnel and lands plunk on my head! Oh, horrors! gasped his mother, it ' s a wonder you weren ' t killed. It was a glancing blow, but nevertheless hard enough to make a dent in the hat and knock me senseless for a minute or two. When I came to there stood the French sol- dier laughing fit to split his sides. ' You, ' said he, ' aren ' t you glad you took that hel- met? ' I grinned and went on my way — with the helmet — thinking how odd that piece of luck should happen on Christmas Day. I certainly should say you had a very narrow escape, said Ed ' s father. Last year, said Dorothy, we thought our Christmas was wonderful. The Armis- tice had been signed and some of the boys were home. Also — we knew that you would be home soon, and that made us very happy. But this year — you are home and so are practically all the rest of the boys, and this is the most perfect Christmas we have ever had ! Eleanor Edwards, ' 20.

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY actually coming up to the door! It was father and mother! How glad I was to see them! Of course the whole story had to be told. How proud father and mother were of me! They said they would rather have a daughter like that than all the wealth in the world, and you may be sure it made me ex- tremely happy. Bobby liked the story very much, and when grandmother ceased speaking he gave her a big bear hug. Could it be possible that his grandmother was that brave little girl of so long ago ; that this was the very house where the story happened ! And then Bobby looked out of the window and saw that the snow had stopped falling, that Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. Who w r as that coming up the drive-way? It certainly looked like old Ned, the horse, and the family sleigh. It was! and Bobby jumped up from his seat, arriving at the door- just as the sleigh stopped. There were father and mother! They had come to give Bobby, a surprise, and to be with grandmother oil Thanksgiving Day. And Bobby ' s happiness was complete. Marjoric Harris, ' 23. AS TIMES PASSES A Christmas of 1864 Part I. It was Christmas Day. Outside the snow was falling heavily. In a big, cheerless room destitute of all comforts, sat two girls mak- ing a patch-work quilt. As their fingers were busily putting the patches together, they were talking about the politics of the time. For my part, I am glad Lincoln was re- e ' ectel, said Mary, the oiler and prettier of the two. Well, I ' m not, retorted her sister Louise, And I suppose you are glad the Northerners are winning too! Eeally, Mary, in spite of all we have suffered I believe you are in sympathy with them, and she glanced around the room where formerly comfort, such as one could find only on a Southern plantation, prevailed. But the three years of civil conflict had rapirlly diminished the w r ealth of the proud Randalls. Now the two motherless daughters of the family were sad- ly comparing this Christmas Day with for- mer ones, when good cheer and hospitality had made their house the merriest of the country round. Mary sighed. She wondered wdiere her father was today. Major Randall was intensely Confederate in his sympathies, and so also were the whole household — all but Mary. She had fallen in love with a young Northerner. When the war came Jim had immediately enlisted. He had been killed in the battle of Shenandoah Valley, and though Mary never voiced her opinions her heart was with the North. As the girls sat there thinking sadly of the misery of the South, the sound of foot- steps was heard on the path. The next in- stant a loud knock resounded through the house. Mary ran to the door. Before her stood a young man in Confederate uniform. Help me, he gasped, as he almost pushed his way into the house and shut the door. Mary ' s eyes widened in surprise. A Southern soldier is in no danger here. A look of desperation appeared in the young soldier ' s face. I ' m not a Confederate; I ' m a Fede ral man. They are after me! Hide me! Through Mary ' s brain flashed the thought, This might have been Jim. Follow me, she said, and turning she ran back to the room wdvich she had just left. Quick as a flash she emptied the scraps from the big scrap-bag and pushed the young soldier into it. Then she covered him with the scraps until the bag looked natural. Just as she finished explaining the situation to Louise, hoof-beats were heard, and there came a knock at the door. Louise, dear, please promise to keep sil- ent for my sake — and Jim ' s, Mary whis- pered. Then she ran to the door. A com- pany of Confederate soldiers with their cap- tain confronted her. Pardon me, said the captain, but we have been following a spy, and his tracks end here at your door. We must search the house. Very well, replied Mary, as she stepped to one side to admit them. The captain, apparently very much at- tracted by Mary, ordered his men to begin the search with the attic and not to overlook a nook or cranny. In the meantime he would remain with the Misses Randall. Three hours later the men reported every part of the house searched except that room in wdiich the officer and the girls sat. The captain said he had inspected everything except the big scrap-bag. And indeed you ' ll not look through that and get the pieces all over the floor for me to pick up, stated Mary. And she immedi- ately sat on the bag.

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY AND FAITH SHALL LEAD THE WAY On the outskirts of a large forest in Swit- zerland is a shrine noted for the wonderful help it has given to many pilgrims during the Christmas season. To the needy, the halt and the blind who went there in good faith, help was given in some way. One day, a young physician who was fond of taking long walks in unfrequented places, was passing through the dense forest near this cloister. Darkness was coming on, and just as he was about to turn back home there were wafted to him the exquisite notes of the Adeste. For a moment he stood and rev- erently listened. Then in the direction from whence the tones seemed to come, he saw a light faintly glimmering through the dark foliage of the trees. Soon his gaze rested on a pathetically beautiful scene. Before him was an open chapel, on the altar wall of which was the picture of the Madonna painted in living colors. Under the picture flowed a tiny silvery stream, which issued from the mouth of an artistic- ally carved lion ' s head. A lamp suspended from the ceiling by means of a chain, illum- ined the interior of the chapel and threw its mellow light on two people who were kneel- ing before the holy picture. The one was a frail young girl whose dress though clean suggested extreme poverty; the other an old peasant whose sightless eyes were raised towards the picture. The deep shadows of the forest served as a background for this strange scene. For a time the young doctor stood as transfixed. Then, concealed behind a large tree, he joined in the hymn, his voice ming- ling with the clear tones of the girl and the quavering notes of the old man. When the song was ended, the girl turned her face towards heaven and prayed fer- vently to the Christ-Child to restore the sight of her father ' s eyes. At the close of the prayer she became aware of the stran- ger ' s presence. He advanced slowly toward them and asked the old man how long he had been blind. For five years, answered the old man with a deep sigh, I have lived in total dark- ness. We have tried many remedies, but all in vain. We feel now that only the Christ- Child can help me. The doctor examined the eyes of the blind man carefully, and a ray of hope lighted his face. Grasping the child and the man by the hand he spoke with happy assurance. Just as God sent an angel to Tobias to restore his sight to him, so I am sent to you. Your ailment can be cured, and you soon will see the light of day. The old man pressed the hand of the young physician, and the girl sank to her knees in silent prayer. Once more had the Christ-Child come to the little shrine among the Switzerland hills with His message of peace. Dorothy White, ' 23. PEACE ON EARTH— GOOD WILL TO MEN 1919 How desolate was Tony ' s outlook for Christmas! But Tony didn ' t know it was desolate. That word was beyond his com- prehension. He would have said it was tough. Tony was the youngest newsboy on the street. He was only eight, but he was sell- ing papers in order to contribute to the sup- port of his little family. The father had died two years before, so Tony was the man of the house, and was very proud of his posi- tion. The other members of the family were Tony ' s mother and his two little sisters. It was a happy little household, although pov- erty was very evident. Christmas morning Tony, his papers under his arm, stood on the corner, trying very hard to keep back the hot tears that kept coming in spite of him. He was a very brave little fellow, and you may be very sure that there was a reason for the tears — or there would have been no tears. And the reason was this : One of the neighbors had invited all of Tony ' s family to a Christmas party at six o ' clock, and Tony couldn ' t go! There was going to be a Christmas tree and ice cream, and he had to sell his papers! It was enough to make any boy cry. As he stood there, thinking of all the good things he would miss, a young girl came along, walking briskly. She was a very pretty girl, and because of her fur coat, Tony said to himself, Gee, ain ' t that swell? She stopped, bought a paper, and started to hurry ou, when she suddenly noticed very discernible traces of Tony ' s unhappiness. Oh, please don ' t cry today, she said. Why, it ' s Christmas! Nobody ever cries on Christmas. What ' s the matter? I ain ' t crying, said Tony, and I don ' t care if it is Christmas. I can ' t go to the party because I have to sell papers. Phoebe Allen gasped. Not on Christmas night! she said.