The Upward Path Part 15

The gong sounded for second period; noise and bustle commenced, the Virgil cla.s.s made for the Latin recitation room with all the enthusiasm of prepared lessons. Time dragged today of all days, the day of the annual football game between the Juniors and the Seniors, so much more vivid than the wanderings of Aeneas. Red and orange, the colors of the Senior and Junior cla.s.ses respectively, were everywhere conspicuous.

But lessons had to be gotten through somehow so with open books, making the final attempt to gather up loose ends in the translation, they waited for the recitation to commence. Miss Rhodes, the young Latin teacher, had observed the cla.s.s during the three weeks of the new term.

She had noted the fact that none of the cla.s.s excelled the others, that all of them sometimes made brilliant recitations, all sometimes stumbled through pa.s.sages in a way to cause the long deceased Virgil to blush with shame. The students could have explained that if she would always call upon them for the particular seven lines which had been their portion they could always be brilliant. However, they maintained a wise and discreet silence. Scientific observation and a.n.a.lysis is never wasted, however.

"Will the cla.s.s please pa.s.s their Latin sentences to me?" Miss Rhodes requested at the beginning of the hour.

Eight pairs of eyes were instantly fixed on her in amazed consternation. Eight pairs of unwilling hands fumbled among papers and slowly gave up the one paper, which was the exact duplicate of every other paper. "Hurry, please, cla.s.s. You may now write your translations of today's lesson for twenty minutes."

The clock ticked, eight industrious students concentrated and slaved over Dido's curse. Translations which sounded plausible enough when orally stumbled through did not look well when written. In the meantime Miss Rhodes looked through the sentences which they had given her. Her suspicions were confirmed. The cla.s.s, unaware that they were harming only themselves, were daily copying their sentences from each other.

Stolen glances at the young and pretty teacher informed the students that her mouth had tightened, her chin had suddenly become terrifyingly firm. After an eternity had pa.s.sed the period came to an end.

"Cla.s.s is dismissed. Please rea.s.semble in this room this afternoon at 2.30," Miss Rhodes succinctly stated. Did they hear aright? Why, this afternoon was the afternoon of the game. It was incredible. Eight seniors and one of them the crack halfback of the senior team, not to be at their own game. It was not to be dreamed of. In vain they protested.

"If you expect to graduate, you will be here at 2.30. Cheaters deserve no consideration."

Half past two found the eight sad and wiser seniors again in the Latin room. Again they applied themselves to translating Latin into English, English into Latin, while in the distance they could hear the shouts of the football fans. The hours ticked by. The game was over, the Juniors winners in one of the closest games of years over the Seniors, who lost because of the absence of their halfback who sat translating Latin, failing his cla.s.s in their need. He would never live down the shame.

Just before dismissing this extra session of the cla.s.s, Miss Rhodes quietly said, "Let me tell you from experience that the ability to make a good bluff is a rare gift. Good bluffs are always founded on consistent hard work."

Slowly and sadly the Virgil cla.s.s pa.s.sed out of the room; realizing that the days of cooperative Virgil were relegated to the dim, suffering past.

THE BAND OF GIDEON

JOSEPH S. COTTER

The Band of Gideon roam the sky, The howling wind is their war-cry, The thunder's roll is their trump's peal, And the lightning's flash their vengeful steel.

Each black cloud Is a fiery steed.

And they cry aloud With each strong deed, "The sword of the Lord and Gideon."

And men below rear temples high And mock their G.o.d with reasons why, And live, in arrogance, sin and shame, And rape their souls for the world's good name.

Each black cloud Is a fiery steed.

And they cry aloud With each strong deed, "The sword of the Lord and Gideon."

The band of Gideon roam the sky And view the earth with baleful eye; In holy wrath they scourge the land With earthquake, storm and burning brand.

Each black cloud Is a fiery steed.

And they cry aloud With each strong deed, "The sword of the Lord and Gideon."

The lightnings flash and the thunders roll, And "Lord have mercy on my soul,"

Cry men as they fall on the stricken sod, In agony searching for their G.o.d.

Each black cloud Is a fiery steed.

And they cry aloud With each strong deed, "The sword of the Lord and Gideon."

And men repent and then forget That heavenly wrath they ever met, The band of Gideon yet will come And strike their tongues of blasphemy dumb.

Each black cloud Is a fiery steed.

And they cry aloud With each strong deed, "The sword of the Lord and Gideon."

THE HOME OF THE COLORED GIRL BEAUTIFUL

AZALIA HACKLEY

The Home of the Colored Girl Beautiful will reflect her. She will help her parents to buy a home that it may give her family more standing in the civic community. Taste and simplicity will rule, for the home will harmonize with the girl. If her parents are not particular about the trifles in the way of curtains, fences, and yards, then it must be her special task to make the home represent the beautiful in her, the G.o.d, for all that is beautiful and good comes from G.o.d.

Windows generally express the character of the occupants of a house. The day has pa.s.sed when soiled or ragged lace curtains are tolerated. The cheaper simpler scrims and cheese cloths which are easily laundered are now used by the best people.

The Colored Girl Beautiful will study the possibilities of her home and will attempt to secure the restful effects for the eye. Too much furniture is bad taste. The less one has, the cleaner houses may be kept.

The ornate heavy furniture and the upholstered parlor sets are pa.s.sing away because they are no longer considered good taste, besides they are too heavy for cleanliness and are harmful to the health of women who do their own work.

Furniture of less expensive model, with simple lines and of less weight is being selected. This may be paid for in cash instead of "on time," as has been the custom of many people in smaller towns and in the country districts.

The furniture sold by the payment houses always shows its source in its heaviness and shininess.

The wall paper should be selected as one would select a color for clothes, to harmonize with the color of the skin in all lights, and for service. Color schemes in decoration are being followed and we have no more stuffy parlors, often closed for days. Instead we have living rooms, with cleanable furniture, strong but light, entirely suitable for winter, and cool in summer. No one has a parlor now-a-days. The best room is generally a living room for the whole family. No more do we see enlarged pictures which good taste demands should be placed in bedrooms and private sitting rooms. The ten-cent stores have done a great deal of good in educating the poor, white and black alike. These stores have everywhere sold small brown art prints of many of the great paintings, to take the place of the gaudy dust-laden chromos and family pictures.

Pictures are hung low that they may be thoroughly dusted, as well as to give a near view of the subject.

Expensive carpets are also things of the past. Painted and stained floors with light weight rugs are more generally used. These may be cleaned and handled without giving the backache to women. Many colored girls boast of having painted their own floors and woodwork. Much of this has been learned in the boarding school.

A tawdry home expresses its mistress as do her clothes. Next to the kitchen a fully equipped bath room is now the most important room in the house. Health and sanitation are the topics of the hour and a colored girl should know how to put a washer on a faucet as well as her father or brother.

A house without books is indeed an unfurnished home. Good books are the fad now. They are everywhere in evidence in the up-to-date colored home.

They are exhibited almost as hand-painted china was. In every inventory or collection one finds a Bible, a dictionary, and an atlas.

The times are changing and the colored people are changing with the times. Cleanliness and health are the watchwords, and "Order" is Heaven's first law.

THE KNIGHTING OF DONALD

LILLIAN B. WITTEN

"With spear drawn Sir Cedric rode steadily through the forest, while ever nearer and nearer came the dragon. Swift and sudden was the onslaught and great was the struggle, until finally Sir Cedric dismounted from his black charger and stood victor over the huge monster who had committed so many depredations against the country side."

Slowly and lingeringly Donald closed the book. The many-branched tree under which he lay changed into a grey stone castle with moat and drawbridge upon which through the day armored knights on prancing steeds rode from castle to village, always on missions of good to the towns and hamlets. Never did Donald tire of reading about Arthur, Galahad, Merlin and the others, but Launcelot, the Bold, was his favorite knight. As he read of their deeds his black eyes flashed, his nervous slim body quivered, the deep rich red flooded his brown cheeks. He was one of them, took part in their tournaments, rescued the lovely ladies and overcame wicked monsters for his king.

Of all the stories a never-to-be-forgotten one was of a little boy like himself who lived in a small cottage near a castle which harbored many knights. This little boy idolized them even as Donald did. One day as the knights were returning from a strenuous day's work, one, weary and worn, stopped at the cottage and asked for a drink of water. Eagerly the boy ran, filled his cup at the br.i.m.m.i.n.g spring, and gave it to the knight.

"Thank you, my little boy," smiled the man. "Already you are a knight for you have learned the lesson of service."