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

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

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 21 text:

THE CRIMSON AND GRAY for that cough the Germans would have passed by, and all would have been well. The Germans as they neared the shell hole, surrounded it and ordered the occupants to come out. In the darkness. the hole seemed only large enough for one man to occupy. Phil realized this, and knowing that his buddy had an aged mother, a wife and a small child dependent on him, ordered his companion to remain silent. Phil then came out from the shell hole and surrendered him- self to the Germans. The Germans thought that he was the only person in the hole, and not wishing to be caught in No Man ' s Land by the enemy, they hastened back to their lines with their prisoner. Phil had been kept in a prison camp until at last, a month ago, all the prisoners had finally been released. Phil had wired home, on reaching New York, that he was safe and sound, and would soon be with them. He had then taken the train and had hastened home. But Phil had forgotten that he came from only a small town. Long before he had sent his telegram, the office had been closed. The next morning dawned forth in all the splendor that one might expect on Christ- mas morning, and in all the world there could not have been a family more happy than the little Lay wood group, all together at last. Elizabeth Morse, ' 20. WAR TIME EXPERIENCES By Philip H. LaRochelle, Former Sergeant, Base Hospital 106. My first real army life began when I reached Camp Jackson, in South Carolina, after a tiresome journey of three days and two nights. I was not quite among stran- gers, for a few of my friends had also been sent to Jackson. At that time, August, 1918, military activities in the United States were going with a rush. It was almost impossible for our government to secure a sufficient number of clerks to attend to all the details of army life. At Jackson the clerical staff, as in many other places, was overworked. Consequently the soldiers arriving there sometimes had to wait hours before being sent to quarters. We were no exception. For five hours we waited in line, and at last we were assigned to a tent. It was one o ' clock in the morning. Nevertheless we had to get our tent into a livable condition. By the time we had arranged our cots and blan- kets, both of which we had to carry quite a distance, we were craving for eats. Soon we were served those good (?) old army beans, which were so freely given the soldiers dur- ing the war. The feed surely gave us a little more ambi- tion, for it was just about twelve hours since we had had anything substantial to eat. It was about four o ' clock when we went to sleep. There is no need to say how we slept in those comfortable cots, for at five o ' clock reveille sounded and our new life started for good, but not forever, for now the bugler is in a resting place, as far as I am con- cerned. Now, the daily routine consisted of exer- cise, drill and all that pertained to the mak- ing of a soldier. My first vitalizing army ex- perience came when my sergeant trusted me with a pick and shovel. It surely was a change from school life, to handle those two instruments in that sunny Dixieland. How- ever, I became used to the job, and was some- what of an artist after a time. At that time, influenza was raging at camp, and sick soldiers were pouring into the hospitals at the rate of four and five hundred a day. I was transferred to the camp hospital, for there was a great de- mand for attendants to help the nurses in looking after the boys. My work was at the Detachment Office with our top sergeant, who looked after the men whose duty it was to attend the sick. Every man was kept busy during the epi- demic. Many worked twelve and fifteen hours without rest, so great was the num- ber of sick boys admitted to the hospital every day. I remember many instances where medical officers in charge of wards, sent out calls, usually about ten o ' clock at night, for more orderlies to help out in their wards, for at night the nurses could not handle so many cases. As I was in charge of the enlisted personnel, I had to wake the boys, who had just completed their day ' s work. Then we pitched tents and got beds into shape for the coming patients, as all available space in the hospital had been taken up. The good spirit of our fellows was very noticeable at that time. Each one seemed to realize that he himself at any moment might be seized by the flu ; he realized how necessary care was for the sick ones, and he did all in his power to give that care. I stayed at the Detachment Office until finally I had an opportunity to get across, and I took it. I asked to be assigned to Base Hospital 106, which was to leave for France. Just six weeks after I had come to Jackson, I left for a northern port. We left camp in