“A Heading for January.” By Clinton Brown, age 13. (Honor Member.)
An Incident in Japanese History.
By Robert Paul Walsh (age 14.)
Toward the close of a fine autumnal day, in the early part of the fifteenth century, the sun, as it sank behind the horizon, was shedding its last golden rays on the lovely sea of Japan. Not a ripple murmured over its emerald surface, not a soul stirred in the little fishing-town, now the port of Nagasaki, except a wiry Japanese guard who was climbing up a bamboo watchtower to take in the surrounding country.
As he shifted his eyes toward the sea, they met a spectacle the like of which he had never seen before: the water, about five miles outward, was literally covered with sails. Instead of strutting down the streets, and crying in a careless, unconcerned way, “All ’s well!” he hoisted the danger-lantern up the high mast, till it hung directly under the banner of the virtuous Mikado.
The little town was now all excitement—the men-at-arms hurrying to their quarters, and the sailors to their ships; the commander’s horn blowing, and the patriotic inhabitants preparing provisions for their countrymen. And what was it al] about? The fact that the sons of Tamerlane, who had lately conquered China, were casting jealous eyes toward their little island-empire had been previously rumored to the Japanese. The truth of this was now flashed upon them by a veritable Armada of well-nigh to thousand white-winged vessels, contrasted with a force of fast-gathering—black clouds.
The ever-dauntless Japanese, far from despairing, massed their small army, and their navy of about sixty-five junks and fishing-smacks, determined to defend their homes until death.
By night a fearful typhoon sprang up, creating havoc every where. The enemy’s fleet was scattered right and left.
Now the plucky men of Japan made a bold strike. Gathering their small navy of only forty vessels, they directed them into the very midst of the Tartars, and as the reaper mows down the waving grain, so the little force spread death and destruction on all sides. The confused Tartars sank their own ships, believing the enemy to he messengers from the gods who wished their fleet to be destroyed. And their weird death-song intermingled with the shouts of victory from the triumphant Japanese, for the Mikado’s empire was delivered from the greatest catastrophe that ever threatened it up to that time.
“A Heading for January.” By R. E. Jones, age 16. (Honor Member.)
A Welcome to the New Year.
By Mary Travis Heward (age 15.)
(Honor Member.)
All tales must have their ending!
Full cold he lies! so let him lie—
His life has had its spending,
The stars are gone; the sky’s a cloud;
Come, weave the snowflakes for his shroud.
And all the woods are sighing.
And all the small earth-voices tell
How the O}d Year lies dying.
The white moon wanders, sorrowing,
And weeps above her fallen king.
A stir, and then a flutter,
As if the wonder wakening there
Were more than worlds could utter
Welcome! sweet offspring of the dawn?
Thrice welcome! ts the newly-born!
And heralded with laughter,
The New Year! girded with the truth
Of joy that shall come after,
Awake! ye chimes, and o’er the blue
“Ring out the old, ring in the new!”
