The Gavelyte, October 1914

8 fl IE GA ELYTE "ill ac<'rnc, lJoth to the givL'I' antl Lhe reC'ipi0nt. ConC'erning the HP els of 'hri tian edu ation, volumns haYc be n written and the encl is not y t and n ver will h as long as lh 0 re is a C'hnr<'h militant. ,ronc ru– ing th n eds of Cedarvill College, the one worcl, ":.\loney," tells the story. The question is, is the alumni willing to com in on Lhis propo i– tion? The only way to learn the answer to this quEstion is to ask. So som time within th next few weeks we expect to send a blanl-: pledge to each graduate, on which we hope for an answer. "A Traitor to the South. " BY Y\'. H . >L '18. It was nearing the close of a splendid day and the sun was slow– ly sinking in the rose-colored •West. It was in the fall of 1863, and the warm 1 breeze stirred restle"sly, trying to keep ·off the oppressive heat. On the veranda of the old colonial home sat :Mrs. Rathburn and her granddaughter, ::\Jiriam. They were sitting there trying to get th·) benefit of the cool evening !breeze, yet alert for any sound of hoof beats on the white road, which could •be plainly seen from betwee:::i the rows of l\Iagnolia trees. From the direction of the negro quarterB came the sound of an old southern melody, which, for some reason, seemed to Yibrate with f'adness. In truth an air of sadness seemed to be impressed everywhere and· the plaintive cry of a Whippoorwill did not detract from the depression. Mrs. Rathburn and Miriam were waiting for news from the battle, and well they might be interested. for i\lajor Rathburn and Mil iam's brother were there fighting for the came of the ·south. Miriam Rathburn-an orphan, yet a tru~ daughter of the south, sitting with her chin in her hands dejectedly– suddenly straightened up with a rnft exclamation. "Listen!" she said. "Do you hear hocf beats on the road?" True enough, the sound of approaching hoof beats grew nearer and nearer, until at last a rider came dashing up the driveway. He was only a •boy and his face was white and drawn with pain, while one arm hung limply at his side. Miriam ran down the broad steps to the hitching 1 bllock, where the nervous horse was prancing vigor– ously. But she drew back with a cry. "A Northerner!" she cried, seeing bis blue uniform. But the boyish face, so pitifully drawn by pain, caused the Southern girl's heart to be touched. "Yes; I'm a ,ortherner, alright," he said through white lips– "and a wounded one at that." Then )Iiriam saw the blood stain on his coat sleeve.