Elkhart High School - Pennant Yearbook (Elkhart, IN)

Page 14 text:

Twelve THE PENNANT them, as a brother, that they were not real people and that they and their little town were decaying. He was severe, and his words were remembered. Progress had entered, disguised in some way, and probably when the vil- lagers were unaware of its nearness. A print shop had been opened. The North Chester journal, it was called. To be published once a week with news concerning North Chester only, announced the first issue. They scorned itg refused to buy it 3 later compromised, and, to-day, the journal is eagerly support- ed at North Chester. Father and son published the paper. Good men were both of them, printing the journal with small profit to themselves. Then one day the news of the great war came, probably through a traveler. lt thrilled the young printer. There were weeks then, when the journal didn't seem itself-when the older printer seemed to be troubled about something. The day came then--the son was going. There were long conversations late into the night, around the little oil light in the rear of the shop. Passers-by noticed it and wondered. The young printer disappeared as quickly as did the few travelers who periodically visited the town. At the journal office, the little editorial window grew dingy with dust. The old printer appeared as a shadow near the window. The window grew darker and he disappeared. In the shop, the press was rusting. The face of the type had vanished under a coat of dust. Even the characteristic smell of inks had gone. People entered the shop to inquire, but little was known, except that the young printer was gone and that they must do without the journal, for a while-maybe forever. A single letter came from an Eastern camp, but none came after he had arrived Over There. It was not known just where he had gone. Months passed. The old printer seemed never to change his position from near the win- dow. Another letter came. It was from the Yosges, and marred with the cen- sor's stamp. The editorial window again became clean. The press again labored upon the weekly, T he odor of inks-the very atmosphere and life of print-shops again existed. g ,3- Near the little front window sits the young printer again-now unable to walk. His whole ambition is to see the journal grow and prosper. He has learne-d from someone, something, while he was over there, that the villagers want, almost crave, so they have made him sit at his desk long hours, writing to tell them all he knows. To-day, they say, that,the Journal is growing and is a part of their very life and religiong that the inks in the shop smell stronger than everg that the fogs no longer seem oppressive. .Leaves decay, but not upon verandas, or in eaves and windows. The villagers have awakened now, and many sons are going.

Page 13 text:

THE PENNANT Eleven A few days before the tim-e he had decided to leave, Jimmie began to act queerly. No longer did he sigh, when by the laws of etiquette, he was obliged to leave his plate uncleaned. Gold-tipped cigarettes were of no in- terest to him now. Jimmie was in love. The morning of the day set for Jinnnie's departure, dawned fair. How- ever, he did not seem to appreciate the weather, for at nine o'clock he had not yet appeared for breakfast. Ten came, but no Jimmie. At eleven o'clock the butler rapping on his door received no answer. A consultation was held con- sisting of the fair motorist and her mother and father. No one was re- sourceful enough to oFfer an explanation. The door was unlocked and they entered. Everything was orderly. A large sack lay on the floor. The butler opened it. It was filled with silverware. A note lay on the dresser. The girl read it. It was as follows: I want you to no that I appreciate what you did for me. You have changed my views of life. Yu'l find all of the silverware in the sak. I dicln't hav time to put it bak. I had to ketch that midnite train to Canada. I am going to join the Canadian Army. Yours truly, Jimmief' From Over There By Paul Ranger, ,18. I T was one of those little country towns in Indiana-North Chester ', was the place, they say, where in the fall, gr-eat thick, almost oppres- ll sive fogs roll up from the lowlands and swamps, enveloping the vil- lage from the world. This village was different from Others, espec- ially in the fall of the year, when the long drizzling rains set in. Leaves rotted and decayed here much the same as they did in other places, but how lonesomely out of place they looked, decaying upon the steps, verandas, heaped high in the eaves, in fact, wherever they had fallen. Still, people lived here and were contented. , The people were different. They labored hard, were tanned, unshaven, had long, unkempt hair, and drove big muscled horses across their fields, in the village streets, and, on Sundays, tied them in the church-yard. Their religion-it was long beards, broad-brimmed hats and black bonnets. It was their dress. Their religion had made them conservative, and they cared little for the world and its Vanities. Then there came a Sabbath when a man from the outside world stood in their simple, little pulpit and told them that someday, one, he knew not whom, would come, from theirmidst and regenerate them and their village. He told

Page 15 text:

IHE PENNANT fhzrteen The Story the Service Flag Told By james Smurr, '18, Theres a little cottage standing Down the street about half-way, And I pass it going, coming From school most every day. 'I'h'ere's a flag hung in the window And in its heaven of white, A star of blu-e is resting For each son who went to light. The mother gave all her boys To light with death and chance, And they were all together th-en, Somewhere in far-OH: France. But yesterday as I passed the door Instead of the blue so bold, Une star had changed its color And was a dull, deep gold. One of her boys had fallen In some battle far away, And a star of gold was placed there For the blue one taken away. Vacation time arrived and passed, And, as I passed the cottage old, Three more blue stars had fled, And in their place was gold. At the window sat the mother, And her sad face seemed to say, I only regret I have no more Brave sons to give awayf, Q 9