Page Two
HIGH LIFE
October 9, I92j
A S H E S
Bu Martha Broadhurst
Chamroy Male and I were invited to
stay the week-end with George and Betty
Carlyle at Carmion Hall. A more beau
tiful place cannot be imagined. The low
stone mansion with its red roof and out
lying buildings nestling among the green
hills at the head of Sideon Ivake had an
air of wealth and aristocracy that could
not be mistaken.
We were welcomed by the two with de
light and immediately borne away by
soft-footed servants to our respective
rooms. From my shell-like room of gray
and rose, I had a lovely view of Carmion
Wood and the blue' Sideon as it lazily
wended its way past the Hall.
After tvT) days of tennis, golf, bridge,
picnics and dancing, we prepared to take
our reluctant leave of our host and host
ess. But no! They would not hear of
our going. A party of young people
were coming up to stay with the Tarly-
ons at their country home, Malmanor.
So many things were planned for the fol
lowing week that we were persuaded to,
stav.
One morning as I sat on- 'the wide
veranda at the side of Carmion Hall, I
was startled in my reading by a'iSudden
calling of mj' name—right in my ehr, as
it seemed! Would I go for a short fide
over to Badenton to get the mail? It
was George Carlyle speaking. I was
delighted and in a few minutes we slid
out of tlie great entrance gate in George’s
new high-powered roadster.
Late afternoon found us returning.
George was driving slowly, that I might
drink in all the beauty around me. The
deep quiet of the woods and majestic
strength of the hills were an inspiration.
Shafts of golden sunlight penetrated
through the trees, leaving aisles of light
in that great outdoor cathedral.
That beautiful afternoon with its un
derlying note of tragedy 1 Shall I ever
forget it? Or shall I ever forget our
conversation and what it led to? Even
the words seemed burned upon my brain.
We were discussing the Great War. In
softened voices we were speaking of
Clary, George’s older brother—the bro
ther who had gone away in the prime
of his surgical career never to return.
Fie had given that glorious young life to
his country. Instead of being bitter,
the line old Lord and Lady Carlyle had
accepted this, their great sorrow, with
unbowed heads and with their faces to
the sunrise, knowing that Clary would
have chosen it if his had been the choice.
He had been such a fine lad—but, then,
to go on with my story: After listening
to George’s low spoken words for a few
minutes I sat thinking, then—
“George, just think how cruel and ter
rible it would be to go to Europe, brave
all the dangers of the four years of war,
then through God’s great mercy, return
home, unscathed and better prepared to
meet life since your recreation on the
battlefield, with not a hurt—not a wound
—not a scratch—then to come home to
life and love, and have your loved ones
taken from you in some other way! Just
think! To return to that!”
A little farther on we left the woods
and our road lay along fields of clover
and deep ravines, for we had to descend
Carmion Hill. As we passed an unusu
ally inclined hill, I noted the beauty of
the place. Grass was growing there and
blue forget-me-nots bloomed in profusion,
while over it all the sun lay like a car
pet of gold. Suddenly I forgot all this
beauty and my eyes were riveted on a
dark object amid all this loveliness.
“Stop!” My own voice sounded queer
and hoarse. We came to a purring stand
still. “George, what is that?—Oh, what
is that?” My voice had risen to an un
controllable scream of horror.
“I do not see anything, Audrey.”
“But you must, you must! Imok just
below here.” I pointed with a shaking
finger.
“Looks like an overturned car. Are
you—why, Audrey, I believe you are
frightened ! It’s nothing—probably hap
pened weeks ago.”
How could he speak so unconcernedly!
Fumbling nervously at the car door,
sensing something of my fear, George as
sisted me from the car and quickly fol
lowed, as I swiftly ran to that dark ob
ject deej:) down in the ravine. Upon first
reaching the wreckage we could discern
nothing which revealed the terrible trag
edy underneath. But, turning to leave,
I looked again—and, lo, I seemed frozen
in my tracks. A man’s hand! A man’s
hand! I was beginning to feel sick with
fright. Quickly controlling myself, I
spoke to George.
“This has just happened! Come quick,
come quick and help me!”
The calm of my voice brought him, per
haps, faster than the hysterical call of
fear could have. By pushing together,
we finally got the car over on its side.
There on the blue and green foliage, with
the carpet of gold spreading over, too
mangled for recognition, lay three fig
ures,—a man, a woman and a little girl
—dead!
The uniform worn by the man pro
claimed him to be a lieutenant in the
army. “We must return to the Army
Post immediately. These people must
have come from that post beyond Baden-
ville. This is an army car and the man
is a lieutenant.”
Suiting action to our words,-rwe ran
to our car. At high speed ym reached
Badentown and took the highway to the
PosL The time seemed interrhinable.
Would we ever get there? I was numbed
with shock. George was driving faster
and faster. The Post! The Post! There
was the Post!
On arriving we looked around for some
one to help us. Walking towards one of
the buildings was a tall man with a mili
tary bearing, and the bars on his tunic
and sleeve indicated to us that he was
an officer of high rank. So quickly run
ning up to him, I cried out in my fear
and distress.
“Oh, sir, will you help us? We have
found something terrible!” He turned
with a courtliness befitting a soldier and
I looked into one of the strongest and
handsomest faces I had ever seen. Re
moving his military cap, he smiled down
into my face, saying, “I am Major Pres
ton. I shall be glad to be of any aid to
you, I am sure.”
Rushing headlong into my story, I told
him what we had seen, closing with—
“A man in the uniform of a lieuten
ant, a young womian, and a little girl!”
I looked into his drawn, white face.
Some unknown thing laid a cold hand on
my heart.
“A—A— lieutenant —a woman—and a
little girl, you say?”
I slowly answered, “Yes.”
As the light went out of his face, I
heard: “Oh, God! Oh, God! To have
returned after four years of war with
not a hurt—not a wound—not a scratch
—and now this !”
The sun had gone; the carpet of gold
had vanished. In their stead came dusk,
and night fell like a shroud.
THE BIBLE BEYOND FASHION
The little pleasantry about the Gideon
Bibles placed in hotels for the spiritual
comfort and guidance of the guests al
ways remaining in good condition be
cause never used, evidently has an ele
ment of fiction in it, if the story of the
experience of a fashionable hotel in Chi
cago is true, remarks the Houston Post-
Dispatch. As the Post-Dispatch tells
the story:
“The management of the establishment
refused to accept the Bibles from the
Gideons for its guest-rooms on the
ground that the patronage would be of
such a high type that they would not be
needed. But soon the patrons of ‘such
high type’ made so many com])laints
about the absence of Bibles in the rooms
tliat the management found it necessary
to -supply them. The Bible has long had
the reputation of being ‘the best seller’
among books, and even today when lit
erature is poured from the presses by
the ton, it retains its place as the lead
er. Perhaps one reason is that people
do not get either too high or too low in
the social scale to find comfort and in
spiration within its pages.” — Literary
Diaest.
B
RELIABLE SIGN
Mr. Wunsch: “Do you believe in signs
and omens?”
Miss Coleman: “Sometimes—why?”
Mr. W.: “Last night I dreamed that
you fell in love with me. What does
that mean?”
Miss C.: “That you were dreaming.”
LIXDSAY LOU’S
NEWS
I. HARDING HUGHES
TALKS TO FRESHMEN
At the assembly of the Freshmen at
IJndsay Street School on Wednesday,
September 22, 1924, Rey. I- Harding
Hughes spoke on “The Three Purposes
of a High School Career.”
“Your teachers were chosen,” he said,
“not because they had studied so much
or knew so ftiuch, but because of their
character. Character is the first thing
that you want to get as you start out
upon your High School career. T ou
may ask why I did not put studying
first; because, if you have character
studying will come as a part of it.
“Next, you must obey the rules,” the
speaker continued. “There are certain
rules you must follow; certain paths to
be taken to lead one right. Others have
learned the rules and set them down for
you, and you must obey them. If you
have started to take a trip and did not
know the way, you would not start out
wondering at random, but would find
the way and follow the rules.
“The third purpose is co-operation,”
Mr. Hughes said. “You must learn
while you are young how to work to
gether in order to be one unit and be
strong as possible. The teachers want
co-operation with your parents in order
that the school and its work may be
successful.”
IN THE SENIORS FOOT STEPS.
On Thursday, Sept. 25, room 3 of
IJndsay Street High School enjoyed an
interesting Chapel program, prepared
by the program committee, consisting
of: Mary Lion Leak, chairman; Kathe
rine Vanstory and Carlton Wilder, as
sistants.
“Onward Christian Soldiers” opened
the program. Then Henry Biggs led
and Miss Anderson closed sentence
prayers, after which Carlton Wilder
made a very inspiring talk on “The
Christian Soldier.” He said in part:
“Many of us have been confronted
with this question: What is a Christian
soldier? Fie is not the soldier who
fights on the bloody field of war. Few
of us can ever become that kind of sol
dier—a soldier who fights hate and
greed. There is a soldier,” he added,
“that we can all be, a soldier inspired
by love and sacrifice. He is the great
est hero of all, the Christian soldier,
though his name may be unknown, un
praised, unhonored.” Mr. Wilder con
cluded by pointing out that the real joy
of life was in bringing joy to others.
The program committee appointed by
Miss Anderson to conduct chapel pro
grams on the days that there is no gen
eral chapel period, endeavors to give
the sudent spiritual training every day
and keep alive the splendid movement
started by the Senior Class.
THE INEVITABLE RESULT OF
LABOR.
“Post praelium praemium”
l.ast year some of us left school with
a feeling of work well done; others of
us were dissatisfied and disheartened.
We felt like kicking ourselves for our
failures to measure up to the ideal we
had set for ourselves; hope for the fu
ture was dark and dreary.
What caused some of us to close the
year with such a satisfied expression
upon your faces? The answer can be
made in one phrase: I.ack of applica
tion. You can only get where you want
to be by work, plain honest work. Life
is one great fight—one continual strug
gle. The man who wins is the man who
fights. Whether you be on the grid
iron or in the class room, you must
fight, fight, fight—to win! We must
work to make the team, then carry the
old pigskin through-put it over the
goal and serve. We don’t get our pay
until the day’s work is through; then,
we get paid for just what we do. No
more, no less. May we all be able to
say at the end of this school year: I
have fought a good fight; I’ve done my
best; I’m satisfied. Remember—“After
the battle the reward.”
NORTH CAROLINA’S
WEATHER
By Ruth Stinnett
The weather man must “strike a snag
when he takes it upon himself to fore
tell just what will be dealt out to us in
the way of weather here in Tarheelia,
since he very well knows thaL in one
single day it is quite possible for us to
shiver from blizzardy blasts, be caught
in a blinding snow storm, be deluged by
a torrential downpour, catch ourselves
slipping on sleety walkways and be
bathed in golden sunshine—all in one
twenty-four hours. Can you beat it?
We have a climate such as is enjoyed
from Canada to Costa Rica, but we have
the advantage over inhabitants in that
stretch of country in that our varie
ties are not held up for any certain
season. In winter we have summery
days and in summer at times overcoats
are comfortable.
You set out in the morning with the
prospect of a fair, warm day and at
noon you wend your way homeward
through a cold equinoxial downpour;
in fact, such rains are not at all par
ticular about falling on the date laid
out and allotted to them—not in North
Carolina. Again, you depart armed
with an umbrella, raincoat and over
shoes; nothing like protecting yourself
from the weather, “the first wealth is
health”, you remember—all this wise
preparation only to be laughed at
by Old Sol with his broad grin, even
before Innch time arrives.
The weather here obeys no set rule of
atmospheric conditions, follows no law,
is as changeable as a woman’s mind. Yet
with all her caprices, give me good old
North Carolina. She keeps a fellow on
the jump to keep up with her, she does
not believe in letting him fossilize, she
believes not in monotony, she adheres
to the old axiom that “Variety is the
very spice of life.”
NEW FALL STOCK
By Helen Felder
In any newspaper you happen to look
There’s smeared over half of each
.sheet
The claims of the merchants who say
their fall wares
Are the best—and of course can’t he
heat.
With merchants and bankers a-talking
their wares,
Old Central should talk some shop,
too;
Announce her fall opening—the great
est in years
The latest, the best, the brand new.
Our antique department with Latin and
Math ;
Some verbs and some nouns from
Parie;
A few moths and beetles all stuck tip on
corks
Are as good as the best that you see.
Our first floor department where Eng
lish is “spoke”,
^■1 nd second, rate themes are the rage.
Where autobiographies burst into bloom
Pates high in the wares on this page.
But now with departments and Latin
and such
And records and chapels and rules.
There’s plenty of laughter and chatter
and song
To make this the queen of ail schools.
There are flappers and tea-hounds, and
old bachelors too,
There are Shebas and Sheiks in the
fold.
There are athletes and singers and .stu
dents and writers—
All cast in the old Central mold.
So come to our portals, and taste of the
life
That flows from the fountains of
youth.
Rich wine that is glistening and. spark
ling and clear
With goodness and beauty and truth.
Harnyard Chatter I
WILLING BUT SLANGY
Mr. Edwards: “You just ought to
see the new altar in our church.”
Miss : “Lead me to it!”
Don’t walk on the grass.
The battle of Chunkers Gill has been
fought for 8 days across the Barnyard
of Spring Street Flospital for Feeble
Minded.
Ripe pears sure do splatter.
Miss Kelly never has to walk to
school.
Fley Bill! What’s the matter with
vou and “G”?
The summer has in no way hurt Fred
Fires. He generally sticks close to 103,
‘Vernell, hold my hand.”
If Billy don’t stay out of the library
I’m gonna tell his name.
IJz is heart-broken. Skinny is gone.
Boys, don’t break the shrubbery and
flowers.
Don’t wm keep to the right in the halls
though? We never have more than about
fifteen collisions while changing classes.
This wouldn’t be a classy high school
if it wasn’t for the classes.
How^ about this? If Greensboro built
airships wmuld Winston-Salem (Sail-
em?) Impossible. Winston just can’t
get on to Greensboro ways.
Silence is golden. Be a gold mine when
in chapel.
Come out and see if he looks as cute
in his football togs, girls.
The one who laughs last laughs long
est but the one who laughs at the teach
ers pet jokes laughs the wisest.
Every time you buy anything from
the supply room you add pages to the
annual. Lets make it as big as a Web
ster's Unabridged.
When it comes to escorting the pig
skin over the chalked area Willard Wat
son is the bee's pink headgear.
Many members of the faculty no
doubt wish we could pass in our studies
like the back field passes the oblong
sphere.
If you have not seen Chas. Burgess
perform just park your peepers on a
five-ton truck going fifty miles per hour
and you will get the right impression.
About the only way to get around
the ends ivill be to detour through the
grandstands.
Jimmie’s name is Mans but we haven’t
seen him sticking to the ground when the
old ball is snapped.
Many a shiek-player’s silent prayer is
that there are many ladies in the grand
stand.
The team makes a man of many a
fellow that tries to make the team.
TOO MANY
“Mother, is it true that an apple a
day keeps the doctor away?”
“Yes, Jimmie, why?”
“ ’Cause if it is, I kept about ten doc
tors away this morning—but I’m afraid
one’ll have to come pretty soon.”—Ex.
Freshman: “I’ve got a splinter of
wood under my^ finger nail.”
Soph.: “What have you been doing-
scratching your head?”
Mr. Wunsch (rapping on desk): “(
der, boys, order!”
Sleepy Flead (just awakening) : “E
sandwich and cup of cofiFee.”
Student: “I think my ticket blew
the window.’’
Conductor: “Don’t try to fool me!
Student: “But it did.”
Conductor: “Maybe so, but don’t
to tell me you -were thinking.”—Select
Traveling Salesman: “Is the buyer
in?”
Clerk: “No, he is out for dinner.”
T. S.: “Will he be back after dinner?”
Clerk: “Nope, that’s what he went
after.”—The Carolina Buccaneer.