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Show WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1S22. THE WEBER HERALD 3 TIIK f.(K)I) FOR NOTHING. liryce Mnnllng- looked from the library window of his father's large, brown stone mansion on Riverside Drive, seemingly watching the rain as Jt danced on the asphalt. Life in panorama of the various classes passed before his view. An Italian organ grinder with his queerly dressed ape and battered old organ hobbled by, grinding out a mournful melody and keeping watch for the traffic cop. Pedestrians of all classes jostled each other on the sidewalks. But the chief part of life was in the street. Taxi cabs and private limousines glided up and down the broad drive. The elite of society in the latest fashions from Paris, the fickle society matron, the financier .with his family, the college graduate and his friends. Life, in the fullest sense of the word, promenaded up and down. Thus he watched, but saw not. It was nothing new to hirn and. besides. his thoughts were far away. The afternoon waned. the rain ceased and one by one the electric lights began to appear, like the Creator hanging out his night lanterns in the dark firmament above. Still Bryce sat with his dark head supported by his shapely hand, unconscious of everything around him but the dumb palu in his heart. The servant came in and announced. "Dinner is ready, sir." But he did not heed. Early in the afternoon, before it had begun to rain, he had taken Doris for a ride in his new red roadster. The air was fresh and it was .such a jolly ride they had had until . On leaving the city they had ridden out into the open country. It was spring and the spicy smell of freshly plowed fields, the enchanting songs of the birds, the fre?h green of the newly clad trees had refreshed their spirits. They had gone farther than they had intended to, hut everything was so beautiful they had put all other things aside. Bryce had stopped the car by the roadside and Doris nad challenged him to a race to a small wooded valf-about a block' distant from the road, lie had reached the place first and had sat down on a g rassy mound to wait. Then shf had tome up. Her hat had fallen off and as she stooped to sit down, the sun glinting on her head made a golden halo of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes shining. Her dross was of a blue, clinging man rial (he remembered now how well it had fit her form ) and was opened nt the t liroat just enough to show her milk white neck and rounded bosom. Bryce had known her since they were oh ildren and had always loved ner, but never had she seemed so desirable. 1 fer beauty seemed to course through his veins like strong, sweet wine. Never had lie so longed to hold her in his arms and press her to his heart. It was spring and the springtime of their lives. Would lie. he woiicfered, dare to ask her to marry him? He knew now, that he loved her; so ho ventured-. She had been very kind hut her words had cut him lo the quick. "When I marry," she said, "I shall marry a man who has done something worth while in life, ("hie who has done something for himself instead of one who has always had things done for him. No, Bryce, I could never marry a good-for-nothing." He ha.d t alt en her home and then driven the automobile up in front of the brown stone mansion and blindly felt his way to the library. During the two hours ho had sal there lie Tin d 1 i ved every rn i n u t e d eta II of the ride over a hundred times. Her loveliness still thrilled him. but her words cut like a knife. So that is who t I a m, lie thought, a good -for- not hlng. lie thought his life over and came, to the conclusion tlia t lie had rea Ily never done anything worth while. True, he had been a social light in college, but t hat was all. Now t hat he hod managed to graduate, wha t was he going to work at? His fellow graduates had learned professions and Were busily engaged setting up busi-firss. His ed uca ( ion had not fitted him to work ; besides, he had n e veils or It cd and (lie t hough t was repulsive. The only thing worth while now was his violin and lie had even neglected that Finer he had entered college. Ills tcachi'i had told him he had talent, but lie was too hizy to practice. W hen he was a small boy he ha d had a r.'tod tra ining. H is grandfather had been a great violinist nnd had tnught him to play and after his grandfather's death he had studied tinder one of the best teachers in New York. Now, In (he agony of his soul his nrhing heart called out to be soothed. Ho could not turn to his father and lie had no mother or sister. He was too proud lo let anyone know his feelings. While he was thinking, t In-swe't mellow tone- of a vi'tlin floated In on the wings if t h" cool spring i breeze. The tune was very simple, but dista nee rend creel the music fwcet. It awakened him from his stupor. he aid used him self a nd stretched lifs finely fnrmed body. 'striding to the bell cord he pulled it vigorously and then resumed his seat on the ftavenport. Soon a servant entered and said, "What did you wish, sir? Shall 1 put on the lights?" k Bryce answered the last question first. "No." he sn Id. "but James, go and fetch my violin in from my room." Presently James returned and feeling his way to where- Bryce was sitting, said. "Here you are. sir; is there anything else I can do for you. sir?" l rye e " s a n s w e r way s i 1 e n e e a n d the servant withdrew. Left to himself. Bryce took the violin from its bed of velvet. Tenderly he placed it In position and drew the how across t he strings. At the first his finders could not find thefr places on the strings but after a moment or two o f pract ice he was aide to piny, but he made the violin squeak ami missed notes. H is p laying was a Ito-k irjther out of tune. He laid it down fcaj his heart sank. Was it possible that through his neglect he had lost hit talent? He picked it up again and thn time as he drew the Ixnv across f ii A strings, from the farther corner of the room came a voice that seemed to answer. A mournfully sweet voice it was. Again ho drew the bow over the strings and the voice vlbrat-d low and far away. Gradually the realization came to htm that it was the voice of another violin answering his. He Jumped to his feet, laid his violin down, switched on the lights, and Rent to look for the violin. He moved books and statues a nd learched through drawer :if;er drawer but could not find it. After he had searched for nearly an hour. lule feioving a large volume on evolution a long vacant spa ce a ppea red in hv hack of the bookshelf. On examina tion he found that he had touched a slide in th.; wall which was the entrance to a neatly made closet. From this closet he drew a violin wrapped in many folds of soft old silk. He recognized it immediately, it was his grandfather's Stradivarius. He carefully unwrapped it and undr-r the strings h? found a note t hat read : "For my grandson, Bryce, when he is able to fully appreciate its worth. From Grandfather." Bryce wondered whv his father had 'never told him about it, but then he ! remembered that he. Bryce, was in Europe at the time of his grand fath-jer's death and when he and his moth-er had returned, he had been sent to a teacher in Brooklyn. That had been 'fifteen years ago and the violin had been there all that time. Still it was jln perfect condition. He replaced the I hook and the slide and turned to go jhack lo tne davenport, but found his Ninihs acrp tt if f f mm the cold. The noise In the street had long since ceased and at that moment the great clock on the stair chimed the hour of three. Kaiiier in the day wood bad been laid in the fireplace, ready for a fire so he lighted it and warmed his chilled body by its cheerful blaze. Then he switched off the lights and drew n largo cushioned chair up before the fire and with the old violin in his arms sat down to play. He placed his chin lovingly on the chin rest and drew the bow over the strings. The tone was flat but after tuning, it became perfect. (It is a well known fact that wood absorbs tone, that is why an old violin that has been played a good deal, is so much better than a nw one.) There in the small hours of the morning, in the center of the great metropolis and by the rosy light of the fire he played. Never had he played so before. The violin vibrated to the slightest motion of the bow and it was as though a human soul was speaking from the sadness and sorrow of its heart. The music of the old times, when Stephen Harding had played before great audiences and held them spellbound, seemed to pour forth from its soul. The music was low und niellow, now brilliant and triumphant, but always exceedingly sweet. It vibrate?! through the large library and the great audience of books kept perfect silence. llryce played on like one in a trance. The fire died down until nothing was left but gray ashes. He heeded nothing but played on, the music ever becoming more wild, fantastic and melancholy. Snap! went the E string, the strain had been too long and steady. Snap! went the A string and then the D. The G string only re- J niained. With the snapping of the last string, Bryce came back from the land of fancy. Ho carefully laid the "Strati" back in its silk wrappings and went to bed. One week later, Bryce drove his large red roadster up in front of the stone mansion. It was to be for the last time. Even now men were carrying out the rich mahogany furniture and the expensive pictures and rugs, to be sold. A great change had taken place in Bryce Harding's life. His father had always been a hardworking financier, but now he had lost everything and had died from the shock. Bryce was left penniless save for a few personal belongings, including his violins, some pictures, including one of his father, and his clothes. His better nature was stirred as he left his old home never to return again and in handling the "Strad" it vibrated to his touch and seemed to comfort him. 1 le was too proud to accept help from his friends, so he sold his violin. Now that he had the "Strad" he did not need It, and with the money rented a-richly furnished apartment. Then he went to find work, but found himself incapable of doing anything but hard manual labor and even this he could not do well. The money did not last long, so he sold his roadster. Before putting his money in the bank he read his grandfather's note. Then he decided he would save a thousand dollars of the money, go West, work for a year and then go to Europe and study. Accordingly, he bought a ticket for t-'an Francisco. The first day after his arrival he met an old friend of his father's, Mr. Antin, a mining magnate. He told Mr. An tin his condi-tion and Mr. Antin offered him a position in his office. Bryce went to work with a light heart, but at the end of the first day he was very discouraged. At the end of the week his employer sent for him. When he entered the office Mr. Antin said: "Well, Bryce I have been watching your work and I guess are not fitted for that line. I am sorry, but I shall have to let'you go." Bryce was too proud lo ask for another trial, so he politely said: "Very well, Mr. Antin, I shall look for work elsewhere." Day after day he searched for work but everyone asked: "What experience have you had?" He always answered, "Nono." The employers did not seem inclined to hire a polished looking genttem;in in immaculate attire. U had never occurred to him that his dress had anything to do with his failure in finding work, until one d.iy he was talking to the clerk in the hotel, and said: "I wonder why it is no one will hire me to work for them?" The man looked at him curious'y. and asked: "Do ou want to wor':. sir? Wh if I had as much money as you seem to have and could afford to wear such clothes, I would not be here." Next day he bought a second-hand suit and applied for a job picking oranges. It was practically the first work lie had ever done and he w;i? very slow. At the end of the firct day his employer gave him a che--U and told him he would not be neede.l any longer. H trid othr similar wo'-k but had no success. There seemed to be no place for in the world for him. Ho had to rent a chea p garret to live In because his money was nearly gone. One day. a week or two later, he picked up the Want Ad column of a newspaper. He carefully scanned it and was about to give up in despair when he found this advertisement. "Wanted A ranch hand on :ho Middleton ranch in S Arizona." He went to his room and wrote a lot t er of a p p 1 ica 1 1 o n . In a f e w da y s he received an answer accepting him. It was Just in time, because all he hr left was a suit of evening clothes. hN violin and one in mil ticket. The rail ro;id fare was S . ( . so he look his suit and sold it. He received just enouch to take him to his destination. With this money, he bought hi ticket aa,l went to his garret. Ho w.is disheartened, hungry and tired. Bui he d id not have anv monov t o bu v h is su ri per with. 'Tis true he had his violin, but he would rather starve than sell it. So. laying down on his hard pallet, he went to sleep. Sleep is the cure for all human ill?. While asleep he dreamed of Doris, his college days and his father. In the morning he aros;, brushed his suit and tried to make his appearance as pleasing as possible, but he was indeed a different looking man than wJien he first came to San Francisco. His hair was long and shaggy, his yhoes worn and his suit shabby. He gathered together what courage he had left and went to catch the train for Arizona. He reached S the next morning and when he asked where the Middleton ranch was, the station man told him he would have, to waik 20 miles unless he could get a ride. After ascertaining the directions, he was to take, he started out. The month was August and the weather was extremely hot. Many times he thought he would faint, but he trudged on, carefully holding his violin to protect it from being jarred. He reached the ranch at 7 o'clock in the evening, dusty, hungry and tired. Mr. Middleton received him kindly, and after a good, hot supper, he was given a bed with the other workm-tn in the bunk-house. The next morning after breakfast, he was told what he was to do. It fell to his lot to milk 10 cows every night and morning. Ke. had never milked a cow before in h's life, and, of course, the other men laughed at his awkward movement?. He bore thei0 taunts with very good will, during hi sdays of hardship he had become broad-minded, and in a little while he was as capable as anv of them. His hands became calloused, his muscles strong and hi. skin a rich' olive color. The days passed by and through his experience with life he found that real joy comes only from hard work. He also leaned the true meaning of life. 1 A mile or two from the ranch house was a ravine in the mountains. It was a beautiful spot. The rugged cliffs rose 40 feet high and the pines grew tall and stately. The place was sheltered from the hot rays of the sun and alive with the sounds of nature. The wind sang through the pines, the raven and the hawk found refuge here. A spring from the high cliff, flowed down through the ravine, murmuring and sparkling over the smooth stones. On its banks grew ferns and mosses of every description. It was a hitherto undiscovered paradise. To this secluded spot in the heart of nature, Bryce came with his violin. His lost talent had been discovered, and here, with the mriad sounds of nature, he practiced. He learned to imitate the sighing of the wind in the pines and the song of the brook. S he passed one happy year in the mountains and became strong and healthy. He had saved $500 so he decided with this and the $1000 in the bank in New York, he would have enough to take him to Europe to study. In New York he was really a stranger in his own country. He had lost all track of his former friends and so he visited the familiar haunts of his childhood and college days; he was indeed a stranger. One day he met the Hamptons in their limousine. Doris was as pretty as ever, but he thought she looked sad. It was at a sti-eet crossing and his taxi happen .d to stop by her car. For one full minute they looked into each others' eyes, but there was no sign of recognition made by either. The polipeman gave the sign to drive on, and he lost track of her. lost track of her. The next dav he engaged passage on the steamer, "New York", that sailed for Europe the following day. Once in Europe, he proceeded directly to Vienna and paid for a course in music at the Conservatory of Music. His means were limited and he had to do any work he could find to pay for his lodging and board. The teachers were delighted with his style and the. feeling ho put into his music, but his violin teacher, the great musician Auer, shook his head and said : "No technique, no technique!' His life was indeed one of toil but at the end of the first year he had conquered his technical difficulties and at the end of the second year, graduated with the highest honors- The work had been very strenuous but, thanks to his months of labor on the Arizona ranch, he had proven himself to be a great genius and all that remained was for him to prove this to the world. An offer came to tour Europe for six months and then to tour America. His success as a violinist was soon mn ni Tested. After a six month's tour in Europe he came to America. The papers were full of his successes in Europe. It was his request to play in New York first. Doris Hampton had read of his success with the keenest interest. Many t imes she had regretted her cruel words of that spring day but through his absence she had truly learned to love him. The night for his performance came The program he decided on was to be very unique. He had the stage arranged like a scene in nature and his program was to be of nature compositions, mainly his own. with the two exceptions of the Thais Meditation by Ma.ss;inet and The East Rose of Summer, (Doris' two favorites). The house was packed with the elite of New-York society and the music lovers of the city. The curtain rose. quiet reigned, then from" behind the scenes came the call of the lark, the babble of the brook and the sighing of the wind in the pines. Bryce appeared and every one clapped loudly. He looked around quickly to find the face lie most wished to see. Sure enough, there she was In a box on the right. leaning forward with her face flushed and her lips parted. Bryce thought she had never looked so beautiful. STie was dressed in n pa le blue evening gown that enhanced her blonde beauty- Hi gaze immediately caught tier's and a moment after the violin began to speak to her from his heart in the tones of the Thais Meditation. He went through his complete program, holding his audience spellbound, just as his grandfather had done. His last number wa.s the Last Rose of Summer. A train he let his eyes rest on Dons and ngain the violin spoke to her. As the last tones died away she sprang from her se.it and throwir.tr a great bunch of roses at his feet, cried: "No. 'tis not the la st rose of su m-mor".Anions the cards of congratulation lie received the nxt day. was a small perfumed note from Doris, inviting him I o ca 11. Accord in gly in the a-temoon he drove to her home. She wns waning for him on the ver.inria. She sreeied him in silence fr she 'could not find words to voice her ! thoughts. She only said: i "Bry e, let us go for a ride into the ; ! country". ! And so, as they had gone more than 1 1 three years before, they went now. j They took the same road and after !a ride in silence, came to the same lit-! ' tie wood in the vale. He helped her ' out of the automobile and they walked to the grove in silence. When he had found a comfortable place for her to sit. lie asked: j "Doris, do you think you can marry; the good-for-nothing, now?" A fleeting pain passed over her face. ! but he caught her in his arms and said : "Doris, I love you! I love you!" GLADYS BROWN. oo ESSAY ON MUSIC. I have an extremely peculiar longing for music. Perhaps it is because in music I find the expression of my soul; perhaps it is because in music flows the feelings of my heart. Unlike poetry and literature, painting and sculpt or ing, it does not describe, explain or make clear, but rather suggests. It may seem to float; it may seem to ripple like water; it may stir you to enthusiasm ; it may recall memories or create thought; but it is intangible. Painting and sculp tori ng, unless taken from subjects true to life, fail. Poetry and literature, unless taken from subjects that are true to life, fail also. But in music I can find no definite subject. Music is fanciful; music plays upon my emotions. The power of music is indescribable. It has in its theme something beautiful and incomprehensible which inspires me to seek the nobler and higher things of life; something which causes my goal of success to move one notch higher; something that instills in me a desire to live for the service of mankind and to give to the world all that I am capable- of giving. It carries with it a something irresist-able, pathetic and luring. Music has its place in the world among all types of people. Give to the retiring soldier the martial airs. A great wave of enthusiasm sweeps over him and he struggles to suppress the indescribable feeling which chokes his throat. Probably he thinks of days around the camp fire; probably he thinks of the hours of drilling; probably he thinks of a night on the battlefield, where so many nobly sacrificed their lives. Mayne he thinks of none of these. Who knows? But some memores have been recalled. That he cannot hide. Then there is the ruimway boy who left home over some trivial misunderstanding and who wouid return were his pathway not blocked by pride. You can play to him the strains of "Home Sweet Home.' You can play to him any strain that pertains to mother and the family. You can ee his frank eyes fill with tears and trickle down his dirt stained face. You can see him bring forth a handkerchief which he used to tie around his neck and play cowboy. He wonders if mother still has the shaps, and still thinks of him. But fear not, my boy, a mother is a mother always. Although you walk from the path of truth, although you drag the family name in dishonor, she will not forsake you. Do I find a soul weeping o'er a song veiled mourning crape? Do I find the crying child hushed by the power of music? Ah, yes, I find all of these. "Of all the arts beneath the heaven That man has found or God has given, None draws the soul so sweet away, As music's melting mystic lay; Slight emblem of the bliss above, It soothes the spirit all to love." In nature, also, is music. Just as music, sung or played, is to us, so is music produced by nature to her children. I love to feel that I am one among the children of nature, because I have learned to love that which they have always loved. The murmur of the trees, the song of die birds, the roar of the ocean, the whistle of the wind all these have I reamed to enjoy.The leaves are to them as Chopins to us, the birds are as Paderewskis, the ocean their Beethoven, and the wind their Handel. That is the way I like to look at it. So, as everybody and everything has its place in the world, so has music; and as everybody and everything has a mission to perform on this earth, so has music. The mission of music is to soothe, comfort and tranquilize. The more difficult mission of bringing joy to the sorrowful, rest to the weary' and truth to the wicked also falls on music for its power is unsurpassed. oo PEP. Vigor, vitality, vim and punch That's Pep. The courage to act on a sudden - hunch That's Pep. The nerve to tackle the hardest thing. With feet that climb, and hands that cling, And a heart that never forgets to sing That's Pep. Sand and grit in a concrete base That's Pep! Friendly smile on an honest face That's Pep! The spirit that helps when another's down, That knows how to scatter the blackest frown, That loves its neighbor, and loves its town That's Pep. To say "1 will" lor you know you can That's Pep! To look for the best in every man That's Pep! To meet each thundering knockout blow. And come back with a laugh, because you know. You'll get the best of the whole darn show That's Pep. Ex. SEND IT INTO US. If yon have a bit 01" Dews, Pond it in. Or a joke that will amuse. Send it in. i A story l ha r is true. And incident that's new, We want to hear from you Send it in. Pon't wait a month to do it. Send it in. Don't let 'em beat you to it. Send it in. SonK-thinc serious or a jest, .lust whichever you l:ke best; The editor wii do tl:e re.-'., Send it in MO! OKIES. I. "When the winter twilight falls. And you're dreaming by the open fireplace.You review the joy-lit moments That have filled your life's short space. Though they're faded in the distance. And just memories to you, You like to live them over, If for just an hour or two. II. You remember boyhood school days. They're the days you'll always love How you sweltered in the school room With spring skys so blue above. And with penknife wrought destructionOn your battered, rough old seat You thought Saturday was Heaven and The candy store complete. III. You remember, with a longing. Things that seemed to you worth while. But now their utter uselessness Fair causes you to smile. You live in memory's moments Your life as a barefoot ooy. And memory painted pictures, Are the pictures that bring jov. IV. And, as life's flame grows colder. And your afternoon is come, Though the world gives you no pleasure That day your race is run. Memory brings you the happiness You enjoyed as a freckled lad. And memory keeps you smiling At the oceans of fun you've had. HERMAN RICHARDS. JUNIOR REPORT There has been little of importance in the happenings of the junior class during the past month, save it be the part played by the class in the Founders' Day celebration, which is now so long past and yet so well remembered by all as to be scarcely worthy of a detailed account. Nevertheless vo might, in passing call the attention of our fellow students to the special features and stunts pulled off by the juniors. Probably the most striking objection the horizon, on that memorable day, were the nifty collars, Puritan style, worn by all Juniors, girls and boys on that day. Everyone remarked on the balloons, gold and blue, of course, and the canes flourished by the third year "dudes." Needless to say, the Junior class was represented 100 strong in the parade and the members made, with their eanes, balloons, collars, pennants, whistles and colors one of the best appearances in the line-up. Plans are maturing now- for a skating party, weather permitting. This should prove a novel and enjoyable affair as nothing of this sort has been held heretofore. The Junior prom, which is not far distant, is still in the minds of our officers and every effort will be made to make it the best that has ever been held before. EVKNTIDE. The day is beginning to disappear. And on the night is stealing; The little birds close their songs of cheer And the musical chimes are pealing. The sun is slowly sinking to rest, While the dew begins to fall. The sky is like fire far out in the west; And we hear the owl's harsh call. The babies are nestled up snug in their beds And the tired mother is knitting. The lamp is lighted and, lo, it's bright glow To every corner is flitting. Oh! the time that is best is when shadows are falling. When daisies are covered with dew; And how sweet to the ear is the nightingale calling, "Good-night! Happy dreams to you!" LUCILE PARRY. HOOP PLAYER ILL. Walt Price, one of Weber's star basketeers is now seriously ill, having been operated upon for mastoid. The operation, serious as it was, has proved successful. It was made at 8 o'clock last Tuesday morning. Walt's condition is improving, slowly but steadily. The students sincerely hope for the young man's prompt recovery and look forward to his return to school. SUPERIOR CLEANERS WEBER BOOSTERS 2470 GRANT AVE. Phone 377 Ogden's Best Assortment Books, Stationery, Kodak Albums, Eversharp Pencils, Fountain Pens and everything for school and office. BRAM WELL'S "CHEER UP!" 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