Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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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.

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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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SPECTATOR 11 The more he considered this plan, the more it appealed to him, and so, rising from the bench, he set out over the city, trying to conceive some Way in which he might git pinched. He had not far to go. The second building he passed was brilliantly lighted, and after a glance at the electric sign, Thornton's Restaurant, Shorty disappeared behind its mas- sive doors. Picking up a menu, he ordered the most expens- ive dishes and wines upon it, and ate a dinner the like of which he had not enjoyed for many a day. Eight dollars and sixty-five cents, sir, said the waiter an hour later, presenting the bill. 0ver eight bucks for that feed? Well, it sure was worth it. But mebbe it would int'rest you to know that I hain't got eight cents-let alone the coin for my bill. See? Well, why don't you call a cop ? Why the waiter didn't call a cop Shorty never heard him just exactly explain, for when he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the pavement in front of the restau- rant, and he had a dim recollection of the waiter's having gently escorted him there by the back of the neck. Ah, rats! I thought that stunt would sure work Guess I'll have to try somethin' else. He crossed the street to where a policeman stood in front of a saloon, and seeing some hope of arrest here, en- tered. He tried to get into an argument with several per- sons, which he hoped might develope into a fight, but, much to his disgust, everyone seemed to be very amiable, and ex- actly agreed with his opinions on all subjects, whatever they happened to be. Then he espied hanging on the railing in front of the bar, a man's crook-handled umbrella. Here, at last, was his chance. He walked over, with all the noise and show possible, and took the umbrella from under the owner's very nose, and started out, expecting to be followed. But the man only looked at him and remarked, quite casu- ally, Your umbrella? So you came back for it? Came back for it?,' echoed Shorty in surprise. Why, yes. Aren't you the man who was in here a few