Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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6 THE SPECTATOR immediately set off in pursuit of the Queenston man, who could plainly be seen to be the pacesetter. But, regaining himself, he fell back into his natural stride. At the eighth- mile pole they were all well bunched, with a Queenston man slightly in the lead. As they rounded the bend and were making for the stretch, the cheering sections rose in a body, and, yelling at the top of their voices, they urged their men to put forth their greatest efforts. Down the stretch they came! The pat, pat, pat of their spiked shoes on the cinders were drowned by the cheering of the excited students. About 150 yards from the finish a yell escaped the lips of Gonzales, and, throwing back his head, his eyes fairly bulging from their sockets, and his arms moving in a machine-like motion, he tore away from the other three. This was a signal for Carleton. Muster- ing every bit of unused energy in himself together, he raced after Gonzales like a mad man, and crossed the line at the Cuban’s heels! Again had the dark-skinned boy from the “ Baby Re- public” saved a championship for his s’chool, for, altho the next event was won by Queenston, Kenwood’s entry fin- ished second. MAURICE M. ROTHSTEIN ’08. A Story of Boyhood Days ♦fTN THE pleasant little town of Kilmarnock, the land of the thistle and the heather, there lived three boys who were very fond of roaming about the country. These boys were called John, Frank, and James. John and James were eleven years old and Frank was twelve. They had heard much of the Ailsa Cregg from people who had seen it and been on it and they were seized with a desire to visit it themselves. The Ailsa Cregg is a huge rock lying between the North Channel and the Firth of Clyde. In the days of myth and legend a witch is said to have attempted to carry the stone by boat to Ireland, but the weight of the rock broke her apron strings and the rock rolled into the ocean. When the witch saw the stone fall she exclaimed, “What

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5 THE SPECTATOR out a few yards from the finish. Carlton and Gonzales were exerting every muscle to touch the tape first, and about a hundred yards from the line they sprinted. As they neared the finish the cheering was intense, for seldom had Kenwood witnessed so close a contest. Twenty five yards from the line the men were neck to neck, but at this juncture Gonzales turned his ankle slight- ly, and only his nimbleness saved him from a disastrous fall. As it was, he staggered across the line at Carlton’s heels. That the “Doc” was well pleased by the showing was made evident by his encouraging remarks to the team in the training quarters that night. The day of the meet found Kenwood in a blaze of color. Everywhere fluttered the gold and blue; while the arrival of the Queenston aggregation lent even more color to the picture already painted. The time set for the first event found Kenwood Field a blaze of ribbon and pennants. Organized cheering was much in evidence, and the friendly yells hurled at each-other by the rooting squads gave zest to the meeting of these two rivals. The meet opened with the hundred-yard dash and was captured by Queenston, with Wilton, of Kenwood, a close second. Queenston’s supporters went mad with joy, while Kenwood’s rooters, as defiant in defeat as jubilant in vic- tory, cheered lustily. Events followed closely upon one another, for never in the history of the two schools were they more bitterly contested. In years prior to this meet there was usually an overwhelming victory for one or the other, but never, as now, an even break. The quarter-mile run was the last event but one on the card, and when it was announced the score stood a tie at 40 points each. Queenston’s quarter-milers were the veteran pair of the year before, who had finished first and third, Carlton having scored in this event. The men jogged to the starting mark, and there took up the positions assigned them. Queenston had the pole with the two Kenwood men in the middle. The clear voice of the starter sang out, “On your marks! Get set!” and at the crack of the revol- ver they were off like a shot. For an instant Carlton seemed to lose his head, for he

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THE SPECTATOR 7 ails the cregg?” She meant, “What is the matter with the rock?” From that day to this the rock has been known as the Ailsa Cregg. It is covered with moss and heather and is inhabited by wild goats, rabbits, small garter snakes—for this reason Ireland does not claim it—and about five or six specimens of beautiful birds. When a steamer passes the rock a cannon is discharged to show the passengers the number of birds on it, for when they hear the cannon they fly in a cloud above the stone. On the top of the rock there is a spring of fresh water which is a very remarkable occurrence, as the rock is in the ocean. At the bottom of the rock there is a small stone house, inhabited at the pres- ent day by a crew of divers. Do you wonder that the boys were anxious to see this rock? Frank, being the oldest, was chosen leader. One bright sunny morning they began their journey thirty-five miles by land and fifteen by water. They decided to go as far as they could on their two-wheeled velocipedes. After leaving Kilmarnock, the first town at which they stopped was Ayr. At Ayr they visited Tam-O-Shanter Inn and saw the cup out of which Tam-O-Shanter drank. This was nothing more than a little wooden pail, bounded by three silver hoops to keep it from falling apart. After dining, they mounted their velocipedes and rode off. After riding about a mile and a half they came to Burns’s cottage and as they were curious to see the bed where the poet was born, they entered, upon an invitation from an old lady who was living there. She showed them the bed, which, in accordance with the custom of the time, was built into the wall in a manner corresponding some- what to our modern wardrobes. The boys were delighted with what they had seen, and when traveling on, Burns’s poem, Tam-O-Shanter, was again recalled; for when “Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry,” they knew they would soon be at the bridge crossing the River Doon where the witches pulled the tail from Tam’s gray mare. At a little town this side of Maybole the boys visited the bow thatched house of David Hogg, author of the “Eth-