Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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A Cane Grindin’ Party III ' “cane grindin' party” is the mode of entertainment in Happy Valley this season nf the year. and. as usual, Luke had arranged this one. Charlie Patterson, sitting silent and alone with only his pipe and the moaning of the wind among the trees for company, suddenly became aware of another sound. As it drew nearer he recognized the enlivening strains of a backwoods melody. I low pleasantly the sound struck upon his lonely ear. Not so long since he had joined his voice in these same songs, yet that time seemed ages past as lie sat listening. A long while after the faintest sound had passed from hearing, he sat musing. How eagerly he had looked forward to “next coinin’ spring.” when he and Katie were to be married. But when crops were laid by. Charlie had gone to Millville, and hired himself t«» Joe Mullens to clerk in Joe’s grocery store, “till plantin’ time.” Then it was that Luke Wright had “stepped into Charlie's shoes, and seemed to mighty well fill the bill with Katie.” At length spring came, and lie had returned to find that although he tried his best, it was impossible to regain his place by Katie’s side, so completel} did Luke manage to monopolize her time. The summer months passed very slowly to him, but at last the fading woods and rustling leaves whispered the approach of autumn, and autumn in Happy Valley means goldenrod, purple asters—and canc-grindin ” The jolly party which he had just heard and of which Katie was a member had been of Luke’s planning. Now and then as these tilings recurred to him a frown marred bis open boyish countenance, but presently be arose with a smile. Blest if there ain't Bill's lamps right now. said Luke. Sure enough just ahead of them at the edge of a small clearing could be seen the leaping flames of “Bill’s lamps,’’ nothing more nor less than a roaring pine knot fire, around which dark figures passed in and out of its circle of light. With the last lines of a rollicking backwoods ballad. Hi-oh, Hi-oh, Hi-oh. And we’ll all sleep late in the m-o-r-n-i-n-g.” they now drew up at Bill's bumble domicile. Git out, git out.” cried the jovial Bill. s they circled the fire, laughing and jesting, they were joined by a number of Happy Valley young people who lived near by and had walked over across the fields. A short distance from the fire, the glowing furnace with its kettle of boiling juice, the long troughs, white-capped, and shadowy figures coming and going in the half-light made a ghostly picture; on the other side one 21

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was completed and a part of the fourth floor set aside for the library. In the present day home we arc all well acquainted with it. YVe know it has been turned over to a library board, a skilled librarian employed, and the membership fee eliminated. In the twenty-eight years the three hundred volumes have doubled and redoubled until today, as we glance over the statistics 25.927 greets us as the number of volumes catalogued by the public library of greater Birming-bam. But this is not all—the immediate need for books is to be supplied by a $20,000 subscription fn m the citizens of our city. nd dimly outlined in the future we can see a wonderful library building for Birmingham, al most a skyscraper. Look, it shows plainly, it opens and we see hooks from top to bottom—nothing but books. Yes. there is a portrait, a portrait of some one we know, and the inscription. In Honor of Dr. J. II. Philips, bon ndcr.” BIRDS IN SPRINGTIME. A cuckoo rattles in an oak. grecnlet in a maple, A jenny-wren now sings a song. An oriole voices April. A hummingbird before the vine With his long and slender bill Just sips the nectar sweet and strong. Then flits on o’er the hill. A wood thrush trills in upland woods. In dripping rains of Spring: His notes come clear and high and shrill. hells on Sunday ring. The red-wing flutes his VKalec. I pon a bending reed. His mate is nowhere to be seen. She’s nesting on the mead. A white-throat sparrow hunts for food: A thrasher sings a lay. For he is in a chcen mo. d. All will he bright and gay. 20 WIU.I M W Lf.ACE. ‘lb.

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could dimly discern the outline of the cane mill, looking much like a one-armed spectre—a malevolent .spirit, whose gaunt figure might have grown stiff in the chill night air. ‘‘Ye’ll find the gourd a lyin’ there on the trough. Now drink to yourselves omen the cup what's good hut don't ineberate.” I.tike filled the gourd with the sweet juice of the cane and offered it to Kate, hut out of sheer perverseness she would not drink until Tom or Alex had filled it. “Why do you treat me so mean? whispered Luke in Katie’s ear. trying to slip his arm around her waist, as they passed through 'he deep shadow of an apple ree. Because you’re not a gen-Icman. cried she. striking lim on the face. “Aw now. little un, don’t you go an’ git mad. 1 allcrs mowed you was mighty per- iclar,’’ said he laughing, hut Aa-■ £-v ° k‘cP n his heart he vowed to get even with her when she was his. There yet remained one other treat in store for them, or rather the male members, for the girls refused to drink the foamy beer brought to them in tin cups, made (the beer we mean) as every one knows, from the “skimmin’s uv the fillin’ juice.” •• The moon stealing up unawares, gave token that it was time to go; and so our friends were soon rattling homeward. They had reached a level, sandy stretch of road, and the mules were creeping along undisturbed, when one of those unaccountable silences fell upon the noisy party. on XT ’ “Mercy, did you heart that!” cried the girls, as the woeful note of a screechowl pierced the night stillness. “Turn your pockets wrong side out.” and the young men obeyed, each young woman quickly tied a knot in her handkerchief. “Now roll up your sleeves,” and, will some one please slip off his left shoe? This last being suggested by Kate Mill, Luke was quick to respond. “Kf lie hollers am more just squeeze your wrist just like you were a choking hfm to death, and I bound he won’t yell no more,” said Salley Wright. I rever could bear to hear the things, they allers make me think of dead fo’ks : rd lia’nts and the like.” 22