CEDRIC VAUGHN.

Classmates were Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee. Cedric from the southland came, and in his Veins there flowed—tho’ mixed with Anglo-Saxon— A trace of Montezuma blood, the same As that of those who met with sharpened steel The hosts of Cortez on the bloody plains Of Otumba. In the lightsome morning Of his happy youth, he saw that twain who Gave him life and love, with all his kindred, By savage hands struck down! struck down and flung Amid the blazing ruins of their home. With superhuman strength he stood beside His father ’till he fell; and then fought on Like wounded tiger, grimly courting death. Filled with pagan superstition, that wild Robber chief—when he saw brave Cedric’s blade Cleave skull and flesh, and break like slender reeds The spears of those who came upon him three To one—thought him protected by the gods And made immune to blows of mortal hands; Stricken with fear lest in revengeful wrath They turn on him, fell on his spear and died. Then the others fled and Cedric’s life was Spared. He, wand’ring aimless o’er the waste Scarce knowing where his footsteps led, came where Terraced hills sloped to a narrow harbor. He knew the place and knew his father had Been well known there and much respected for Fair dealing, when in trade he bought and sold; Not many days before, they together Had come down this dusty trail and returned With family stores. Sadly he walked on, his Poor heart bleeding at remembrance of those Happy hours now gone, when suddenly he Came upon the spot where they had rested By a spring and led their horses down; Here lay the branch his father’s hand had used To urge the horses on; and half trodden In the mold, and scattered round, the paper Which he had seen his mother’s loving hands Wrap ’round the food prepared by her for them. Now, for the first, he realized his loss. Upon the cold, damp bosom of the earth He laid his head and wept—alone! Beneath The bending skies and sighing boughs; no loving Hand upon his brow; no ear to hear the Groans that shook his iron frame; nor knew he How near in that dark hour the heart of Him Who suffered in the garden all alone Was bending down to his. The soul may weep And still the flesh demand its own: Too proud To eat the bread of charity, he sought And found employment in the mines. He worked With heavy heart, crushed for a time by dark Despair; and giving way to hunger for Revenge, he well-nigh fell; but when at last A kindly light broke thro’ the gloom of his Black night of grief, and he could say, “Thy will Be done”; in him awoke new life and hope And high resolve to make of his own life A memorial to them; and to strive To reach the measure of their highest hope. To this end he hoarded all his earnings, And with the salvage from the wreck of their Estate, went bravely forth, determined to Fulfill their wish so oft expres’d that he Might go away to school—they named the school— The greatest in the northland, whence they hoped To see him come one day with cultured mind.