Williamstown High School - Yearbook (Williamstown, MA)

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pageforty-six W.H.S.1933 YEAR BOOK stood. The small Daren had poured his heart out to Asa Atwill, and had been comforted and encouraged, and then the Reverend Asa had gone away to be a missionary. Without his guiding infiuence, and encouragement, Daren had grown up and attended college instead of a theological seminary. His parents never knew of his desire to become a minister, he had never been able to bring himself to the point of telling them. Yet he admitted that he had been afraid. Without much difficulty in the years that followed he became a banker. He was successful as a banker, and he felt that it had been fate, for admittedly his attainment of success had not followed a struggle. Daren Ross often reviewed his life when he was alone, so alone that he could hear the clock tick, not because he was proud of his achievements, for he was a retiring, quiet man, but because he was forever trying to fit into his life the something which had been left out. It was the neglect of his spiritual development. A hundred times in his quiet hours he planned his past life over again, and always he thought of himself as a minister in a quiet little town like Eden. Invariably at the end of his day dreams he apologized to himself for not being satisfied. Tonight as he dozed, there came softly and clearly back over the years the mellow music of an organ and a violin playing Jesus, My Lord , and softly he heard the swell of untrained voices singing, Jesus, what didst thou find in me that thou has dealt so lovingly? It was the old hymn that had been sung on the night when he was confirmed by the Bishop who was visiting the church. Dim lights from the candles on the altar had shown on the Bishop's face. The rose window at the back of the church had never been so beautiful before with the light of the sunset pouring through it on to the congregation. The Bishop had placed his hands on his head, and in tones that seemed to linger in the rafters, he had blessed him and each of the others in turn. Then the Reverend Atwill had pronounced the benediction. It was then that Mr. Ross had decided to become a minister or a missionary. The light tapping of heels on the flagged walk outside aroused him from his dreaming. It was Mary Alice coming home. He was anxious to ask her what her sermon was to be for that evening, as it was the first time he had been able to stay over Sunday night to hear her. He wondered if he was letting his hopes rise too high. He felt somehow that she was only a child and that he was expecting the utmost. Mary Alice was twenty-five and was trying her success at art. Mary Alice stepped into the room fresh from out of doors with a little mist of rain on her pale fluffy hair. Her dark violet eyes were shining in the lamp light and there were drops of mist on her lashes. With a graceful shrug she emerged from her raincoat which she laid on a chair. Hello father, she said in an unbelievably soft, deep voice, shall we go over to church together in a few moments? Yes, Mr. Ross answered, but first sit down and talk to me- about

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The Fulfillment HE soft light of the green shaded reading lamp hovered over the polished mahogany table top, and left the corners of the long room in shadows, colored deeply by the richly colored covers of the books on the shelves about the room. Daren Ross sat half reclining in an arm chair beside of the table. He fingered some squares of white paper, shifting them from time to time over the polished surface of the table. Once he picked one of the papers up, and glanced over it, then sighing reminiscently, he dropped it down with the others and fell into a deep reverie. An evening breeze came through the open Window scented with earth and lilacs, and wafted a maple blossom to the floor. The notes on the white paper lying on the table were part of an introduc- tory speech to be used that evening at the meeting of the men's Bible class, when he was to introduce the Reverend Asa Atwill, a missionary and former pastor of the Little Church in Edin. He had been the pastor then when Daren Ross was a boy. Before the meeting of the Bible Class Mary Alice, Daren Ross's daughter, was going to deliver a little sermon in the church. She had been preaching there on Sunday nights all summer. The Little Church had run down terribly, and the town had been unable to hire a regular minister. They had asked Mr. Ross to preach during the summer months, but he was a banker in the nearest city, and had never been able to stay over Sunday nights in Eden before tonight. After much difficulty, Mary Alice had been persuaded to attempt to fill the place in the pulpit. Mary Alice was a good speaker and Mr. Ross was not. He often thought of things he would like to say - words of advice, comforting words, or words of encouragement-but he was always painfully shy in the face of such circumstances, and always felt that any words he might oiier were just as Well unspoken. He was well-liked for all his quiet ways, and was thought of as a quiet, kindly, and successful man. The reports that had come to him of Mary Alice's talks thus far had been good. Everyone was pleased apparently for she had attracted a minimum of people each time, and there had been no criticism at all. Mr. Ross wondered what the Reverend Asa Atwill would think of his daughter. He wondered whether he would be disappointed to find his little church without a real minister of the Gospel, or Whether he would be proud to come back and find it carrying on. Most of all he wondered if the old minis- ter would be surprised that he, Daren Ross, was not in the pulpit instead of his daughter. Daren had wanted to be a minister when he was a boy yet he had been terribly shy then, and the conflicting emotions had hurt him. He had told the Reverend Atwill of the strange battle within him, and the minister had under-

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W.H.S.1933 YEAR BOOK pageforty-seven tonight. What are you going to talk about? I've been sitting here dreaming for an hour, and I've been wondering what it was going to be like. I wondered if it would seem the 'same as when I went to church there as a boy and listened to the Reverend Asa Atwill. Only of course tonight I will be listening to my daughter, and the Reverend Asa Atwill will be sitting by my side. He is the best man God ever made, Mary Alice. Then he is the man who is going to speak at Bible Class tonight? Yes, Mary Alice. He was my spiritual advisor when I was a boy, but I didn't carry on when he went away to be a missionary. He told me I should enter the ministry. It seemed easy then. It was something for me to look forward to, and I anticipated the time when I would be in a position such as he had in our little country church. I never aimed any higher. When Mr. Atwill went away, I was afraid of the task I had set for myself. His strength of character and saintly manner had been a wonderful example and had been a guiding post to me while I saw him every day, but I forgot him when he left. He was God's own gentleman. You see, dear, that is why I wanted you to be a minister. It did seem queer to you - but that was where I failed and I was selfish enough to want you to carry on and make up for what I didn't do. It was foolish of me to even expect you would want to do the same thing I wanted to do when you were my age. But come - what are you going to talk to your old father about tonight? Will you use a passage from the Bible for your text? Slowly Mary Alice rose from the arm of her father's chair. There was a set expression about the corners of her sweet mouth. I'm going to use a lecture I prepared at college called Contrasting Modern and Ancient Art . It was an A lecture. Hurry, or you will be late, father. She was gone. Daren Ross sat up in his chair, an expression of incredulity on his face. Then she wasn't going to have a real old-fashioned sermon. Well, really not any sermon at all. We had heard the Art paper before, Asa Atwill was coming back to the old church to hear about Modern Art was he? Oh, she couldn't talk about that-but she had said she was going to. It was too late now to change. So this is what she had been doing all summer and the people had liked it. Mr. Ross clasped and unclasped his hands, then he walked around the table and sat down again. ' Oh, why of all nights couldn't she have chosen tonight for a real sermon? I could be so proud of her with Asa Atwill listening, too. He spoke aloud. Upstairs he could hear nothing. It wouldn't do to even suggest changing now. Up in her room Mary Alice was dressing. Her face in the mirror was wet with tears. Her hair on her forehead was damp and her lashes were stuck together in points. She was talking to herself as she often did. Her voice was low and determined and she Wasn't crying anymore. I didn't want to hurt father. I didn't know my sermons mattered so