Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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The Spectator I9 perfectly willing to predict that before another decade I shall travel to Asbury Park in a heavier-than-air machine, stopping at will at stations on the route. Counting the Cost By Ruth Sellers ,II EE-ACON HAWSON was a stern, old-fashioned Men- nonite to whom anyone who played cards, danced or wore fancy clothing, was vain and worldly and was sure to be punished hereafter. The Deacon had a son, Caleb, whom he was endeavoring to raise as he had been raised. But Caleb was of a more modern time than his father, and gay posters of cir- cus scenes and theatrical bulletins, which he saw when in town selling butter and eggs, had caused him to think by day and dream by night of the wonders portrayed on them. Sometimes he would dream that he was driving a chariot and lashing the horses with the reigns, as the man on the billboard did, or per- haps that he was saving a beautiful girl, who looked just like Phoebe Crebbern, from death at the hands of a terrible villain, an act he had seen depicted on a poster. Then Caleb began to practice these acts in secret. He would go to his room, lock the door and wrapping a cover from his bed around himself, to represent the flowing 'robes of the charioteer, would lash a chair with a piece of rope and wave his arms. fSometimes he would confidej Deacon Hawson knew nothing of this, for though Caleb was noticeably quiet he went about his work as usual, per- forming tasks now very irksome to him. But Caleb was form- ing a plan to run away from his home, which had become now very disagreeable to him, and seek these wonders in the city. One Saturday morning he was sent alone to the city with the produce. Now I have my chance,', thought Caleb. But will I take it ? He was not at all sure of himself. Then he be- gan to plan what his father would say and how his mother would look when the old mare came back alone. He would fasten a note to Sally's bridle, where his father would be sure

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I8 The Spectator Chine ran gently along the ground, and then sailed gracefully and majestically into the air. It looked exactly like a great bird, that has to run along the ground until it acquires momen- tum enough to rise into the air. On this flight Johnstone did not exhibit any skill, but con- tented himself with flying around the field a .couple of times. Hoxsey came next, but his rudder wires got crossed and his machine refused to rise. He then took another machine and had better luck. He steadily rose in the air until he reached a height of about 1,500 feet, and then started seaward and was soon lost to sight. During his absence Johnstone went up again. On this flight he cut figure eights and turned around so sharply that his machine seemed to stand on end. At the close of this flight, which had lasted about thirty minutes, he gave the crowd an exhibition of the ease and accuracy with which he could handle his frail-looking craft. He came along at about thirty-five miles an hour, shooting up and down like a small boat at sea, now so close to the ground that the tips of his planes plowed up the dust, now thirty feet in the air. He repeated this at least a dozen times without the slightest mis- hap. In the meanwhile Hoxsey had returned'and we were treat- ed to the magnificent sight of two aeroplanes in the air at once. Several other flights by these two men followed, but as I was by this time looking for an unusual exhibition of the aviator's skill, I was slightly disappointed in them. VVhen a large part of the crowd had departed, Brookins appeared for his only flight that day. His flight did not make us a bit sorry that we had remained to the end. He steadily arose until he had attained a height of a little over 2,000 feet. Then, shutting off his engine, he came swooping earthward like some giant bird after its prey. People began toflook anxious, fearing an accident when he attempted to land. But they did not know Brookins. Under perfect control, his ma- chine slid swiftly along the ground for some distance, and then came gently to a stop. This sensational flight of Brookins ended the meet. The crowd rapidly left the field, all seemingly impressed with a firm conviction that man has at last conquered the air. I myself am

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20 The Spectator to see it, explaining the cause the folks that some day when would come back. just as he varia-colored poster caught his and stood in front of it. Never that. A drunken man was just over the head, with a bottle. of his leaving home and telling he was great and wealthy he was entering the city a huge, eye. He got out of the buggy had he seen a horrid poster like in the act of hitting a little girl Caleb was astounded and stood as one in a dream, while the old mare nibbled the grass along the roadside. Was act- ing like that the way to wealth and glory ?,' Would he have to do it? If he did could he ever conscientiously come back for Phoebe Crebbern, as he hrmly intended to do? Then thoughts of his father's wrath and his motherls grief, which before this had not been considered, and the hatred which all the people in that part of the country, who had known him all his life, would bear him, made him say to himself, Is it worth while Pl' Without answering himself, he got back in the buggy, touched up the old mare and drove off toward town. He sold his produce and on the way home that afternoon passed the poster, without even a glance at it. Caleb, now a young man, goes several nights a Week to court Phoebe. It is rumored they are to be married in the near future. He is a sub-deacon in the church now and although he goes to town every week he never permits himself to see a bill-board. Tricky By Ruth Eldridge '12 early June. The air was de- T was a misty morning in lightfully cool. The horse, in her stall, thought so. Uncle Billy, walking towards the stable but a small Billy, who just came bing his eyes, did not think so. looked much better. Billy! hey Billy! Where on earth is that young rascal? Oh! here at last, are you? Step lively now, and feed those pigs. They have been squealing for breakfast for an hour now. And to feed the stock, thought sog out of the house, sleepily rub- A certain, small, white bed