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

Page 19 text:

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.

Page 18 text:

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.

Page 20 text:

14 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY Sure, I do. I ' m the man of the house, and if I don ' t sell papers, — well— 7 have to sell ' em, he said. Phoebe thought it over. She was going to a part} 7 herself that night, and if she had to miss it — ! She could understand Tony ' s sorrow. What time ' s your party? she asked. Six o ' clock, said Tony sadly, but I must sell my papers till after eight. Phoebe beamed. I know, she cried, you go to the party and I ' ll sell papers for you ; my party doesn ' t begin until eight, and I don ' t mind being a little late. Tony, young as he was, realized how strange it would seem to people to have the beautiful young creature in a fur coat sell- ing papers. So he simply answered, Oh, no, you can ' t. Yes, I can, she answered, I ' ll just stand here and when a man comes along I ' ll say, ' Paper, sir? ' and he ' ll buy one! I ' ll be here a little before six and you bring me the papers then. She hurried on, leaving the little newsboy gazing after her in wide-eyed astonishment. That noon at the Christmas dinner Phoebe said, May I have the car and Pierre at six, please? Yes, answered Mr. Allen. Where — Phoebe abruptly changed the subject. Six o ' clock found Phoebe at the corner, telling Pierre to come back at quarter after eight, and not to mention where she was. Selling papers was such fun! Everyone bought them, more, perhaps, from curiosity than from actual need. About quarter of eight, Phoebe saw a gentleman coming, and she addressed him with her usual Paper, sir? Yes, please — why, bless my soul, it ' s Phoebe! and there stood her father. What does this mean? he asked. It means, said his daughter, that the newsboy was able to go to his party, and in a few minutes I ' m going to mine. Now, please don ' t scold, she coaxed. Mr. Allen was very much inclined to scold, but after he understood the situation and Phoebe ' s sentiment, he was pleased. Well, he said finally, this is what I call an act of ' Peace on Earth — Good Will to — Tony. ' Isabel Corey. ALL ' S WELL THAT ENDS WELL There ' s a silver lining always through the dark clotuls shining. At a little cottage in a small town in New England, Mr. and Mrs. Laywood, Louise Laywood, a girl of about twenty, and four- year-old Marvin were all seated around the fireplace. It was December 24, the night before Christmas, a time when one would expect that every one was happy; but it was not so with this little group. There was a dark cloud that hung over the Laywood fam- ily. Philip, the oldest child, who had gone over to France in 1917, had been reported missing ever since the first of November, 1918, but it was not until the first of Janu- ary that the family received the telegram stating that Philip Laywood was missing. The big morris chair, which had always been Philip ' s favorite, was vacant. No one had felt like sitting in that chair, for it had always seemed so closely connected with him, and they all knew that no one but him could ever fill that chair. The family had hoped against hope that Phil would return, but, as the days had passed and nearly all the other boys had returned home, and still no word had been received, the Laywoods gradually gave up hope. As the family were sitting around the fire each with the thought of Phil uppermost in his mind, mother and father of Philip ' s child- hood, Louise of how Phil used to take care of her when she was younger, and little Mar- vin of the joy that would be his if he only had a big brother to take him to the circus like some of his playmates, — they heard someone coming up the path to the door. Little Marvin jumped from his chair and hurried to the door, saying as he went, I just know it ' s Santy Claus with just what I ' ve been praying for every night. The family knew that Marvin had been praying that Santy Claus would bring his big brother home to him. The tears came to the eyes of the three left sitting by the fire as they thought of the disappointment the little fellow was to re- ceive. But — in the next instance Marvin was yelling, I got him, I got him, and in a second the whole family were eagerly em- bracing the lad. No, not Marvin, but Philip, for Philip it surely was, without a doubt. The family were all anxious to know where he had been and to hear his adventures. Philip ' s story was short ; it was this : Philip and his buddy had been sent out to recon- noiter. It also happened that a party of Germans were out spying. Phil and his buddy had seen the enemy coming their way, and since they were outnumberel, they had ducked into a shell hole. As Phil ' s buddy rolled over in the shell hole he coughed. But