The Washington times., 1931-11-03

belonged to another world. Only
the smell of the gloomy rooms
is familiar, not so rank, but still
similar to that of the barracks.
The great organ with its hun
dreds Of pipes is cleaning In
the hall. To the right stand
the masters in a group. On the
principals desk are two potted
plants with coarse, leathery
leaves. In front Of it hangs a
laurel wreath tied with a big
ribbon. The principal is in his
frock coat. So there's to be a
Welcome"
We pile up together in a
heap. Nobody wants to be in
the front rows. Only Willy
takes up his place there, unem-
barrassed. In the semi-darkness
Of the hall his head is glowing.
look at the group of mas
ters. For us they were once
more than other men, not mere
ly because they were in charge
Of us, but because. however
much we may have made fun Of
them. we believed in them.
Today we see them merely as
so many somewhat older men,
Of whom we feel mildly con-
temptuous.
They Know Life
There thew stand now and
propose to teach us again.
But we expect them to set
aside some of their dignity.
For, after all, what can they
teach us? We know life now
better than they; we have
gained another knowledge
harsh, bloody, cruel, inexorable.
We could teach them for
that matter-but who would be
bothered? If a sudden raid
were to be made on the hall
just now, they would all be
rushing about like a bunch of
poodles, frightened out of their
wits, without a ghost Of an idea
what to do, whereas not a man
of us would lose his head. AS
the first thing to be done
merely that they should not be
in the wayne should quietly
lock them all up and then
begin the defense.
The principal is clearing his
throat for a speech. The words
spring round and smooth from
his mouth; he is an excellent
talker, one must admit that.
He speaks of the heroic Strug-
gle of the troops, of battles,
of victories, and of courage.
But for all the fine words, I
feel there is a snag in it some
where; perhaps just because
of the fine words. It was not
so smooth and round as all
that look at Ludwig; he
looks at me: Albert, Waldorf,
Westerholt, it does not suit any
of them.
Hits His Stride
The principal is getting into
his stride. He celebrates not
only the heroiSm out there, but
now the quieter heroism at
home, also. I'VE at home here
have done our duty too; we
have pinched and gone hun
cry for our soldiers; we have
agonized; we have trembled.
It was hard. Sometimes per-
haps it has been almost harder
for us than for our brave
lads in field gray out yonder-'
"Hopla!" says Westerholt.
Murmurs begin to be heard.
The Old Man casts a sidelong
glance in our direction and
goes on, But indeed such things
are not to be weighed and
nicely balanced. You have
looked into the braZen face of
Death without fear, you have
discharged your great task.
And though final victory has
not accompanied our arms, yet
all the more will we now stand
together, united in passionate
love of our afflicted Father
land: in defiance of all hostile
powers we will rebuild it:
rebuild it in the spirit of our
ancient teacher, Goethe, whose
voice now rings out so COM
mandingly across the centuries
to odr own troubled time: Let
might assail, we live and will
prevail"
The Old Mans voice sinks to
a minor. It puts on mourning,
it dripS JUNCTION. A sudden
tremor passes over the black
flock Of masters. Their faces
show self control, solemnity-
But especially we would re-
member those fallen sons of our
foundation who hastened Joy
fully to the defense of their
homeland and who have re-
mained upon the field of honor.
Twenty-one comrades are with
us no more;-21 warriors have
met the glorious death Of arms;
81 heroes have found rest from
the clamor of battle under
foreign soil and sleep the
long sleep beneath the green
grasses"
Ill At Ease
There is a sudden, booming
laughter. The principal stops
short in panied perplexity. The
laughter comes from Willy,
standing there, big and gaunt,
like an immense wardrobe. His
face is red as a turkeys, he is
so furious.
Ito Be Continued