Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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SPECTATOR 9 the stars. There! the noise ceases, and in that direction shines out another of the ball-shaped stars ...... But how shall I get inside of this charming Dreamland? No doubt, there is a high wall around it. Perhaps some frightful dragon guards its entrance! I haven't even a weapon to defend myself .... Oh! Yes! They surely will send a messenger or guide to bring me in, since they have called me to their land. Ha! that sounds like the footsteps of some one! It cannot be the night-watch, as he has pass- ed in the opposite direction. Surely, surely this is their guide, the winged Mercury. O Mercury! Noble guide! Hither! Here am I awaiting ...... A dull, hoarse, monotonous shriek rends the air. Dis- gusted and utterly displeased with this rude intrusion into your glorious meditations, you give it up, and descend to your stateroom. i An Old Darkey Helen Mathews '16 The firelight cast quaint shadows over the face of the old darkey. Slowly he rocked to and fro, puffing lazily at his corn-cob pipe. He was almost bald. There were, how- ever, two spots of grizzled wool, one directly over his fore- head and the other directly over the nape of his neck. It was curly wool, and faintly resembled small puff balls of cotton. He wore old tortoise shell spectacles, and his mild black eyes, alert and penetrating, glowed with a kindly humor. His cheekbones were broad and rather flat, his nose straight and well-formed, his lips thick but gently molded. His chin was concealed by a short cropped white beard, conforming with the white spots of wool. Physically, he belonged to a line type of manhood. Although now he was feeble, his stature showed that he had once been tall and straight and manly. He was in his shirt-sleeves. There was a patch on one of the sleeves and several ragged tears on the other. His trousers had seen better days. They were

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8 SPECTATOR that you may come into the boats, but it is useless: you are wholly at the mercy of the crowd. Unable to reach the boats you seize a life-belt and, grasping it, throw yourself into the pitch below. Almost instantaneously you sink into the piercingly cold waters. You rise and sink continually, a helpless plaything of the mighty waves. You cannot hold out any longer! You gasp for breath! This is the finish! . . . A dull hoarse monotonous shriek rends the air. You have recovered the control of your imagination and now are complete master of yourself. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turn gladly away from these gruesome thoughts. You take another comprehensive view of the surroundings. It is dark, -so dark and vision-defying, that even the densest night cannot equal it. Yet no form of blackness is to be seen. This strikes you as unnatural,-out of the ordinary. Of a sudden you light upon a brilliant idea. Of course, you have left the earth, the abode of man, and are speeding fast to the Kingdom of Dreams,-that wonderful fantastic Dream- land of which every one has heard so much. Yes, no doubt, that is where you are going. It is the land where Night reigns year in and year out 1-but not the ugly dark mysteri- ous Midnight during which ogres and witches perform their missions of evil. No! no! lt is a much brighter night... The moon and the stars? Undoubtedly you will see them soon. They have not come out yet. By and by we will see them. Oh! Look! Here they are! Oh, how magnificent! how beautiful! There, one by one come out the tiny, silvery, bright little stars. But they are not shaped like those we see from the earth. No! They are perfectly round, like the sun and the moon, but, of course, much smaller. Look! they increase in number. There another one has come out, and here another and another .... What is this that sounds like footfalls! Nearer and nearer moves the objectg louder and louder clatters the noise. Presently it passes in your vicinity, enabling you to catch a glimpse of some being with a lighted torch. This is .the night-watch of Dreamland, employed in the task of lighting

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10 SPECTATOR an indescribable greenish brown color, torn and frayed at the edges. His shoes showed a dull black on the toes and a brownish yellow on the sides and heel. Apparently they had once been russet shoes, and the black toes were only feeble attempts made by the old negro in his desire to gain once more a semblance of respectability. The Reformation of Shorty' jane Conrath '16 Shorty drew his ragged coat more closely about him, crouched lower on the bench on which he sat, and shivered in the cold east wind. It was a chilly evening in the latter part of November, and the wind brought tiny particles of snow with it, which blew into peoples' faces and caused them to walk on more briskly. The benches in the park were almost deserted. and Shorty realized that he could not stand many more of his evenings there in such weather as this. Shorty was a tramp-just a plain, ordinary, every-day tramp. He was willing to beg, steal-do anything whatever, except work, there he drew the line. During the summer he easily managed to provide himself with food by one of the above methods, and as for lodging, all he needed was a sleeping-place, and as long as there was a vacant bench in the park that was easily provided for. But in the winter it was different. One could not spend the cold winter night like the warm summer ones, and Shorty realized this fact only too well. Another fact he realized was that winter was rapidly approaching, as this chilly evening served to remind him. Something must be done. Work was, of course, en- tirely out of the question, and Shorty was greatly puzzled as to how shelter was to be provided him. Only one pos- sible way presented itself. That was to commit some petty crime, for which he might get sent up for thirty or sixty days. There was always plenty to eat in the jail, and it was, all in all, a most satisfactory lodging place to Shorty.