Hudson High School - True Blue Yearbook (Hudson, WI)

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 £ rue 'Blue heavy wrinkles formed across his brow. Jack could not help thinking of the man in Atlantic City as he said “Hello, Mr. Bowden, How’s business?” “Business is,” he broke off abruptly, extending his hand! and said: “Jack, old boy, hardly knew you. You sure must have been around and I surely do envy you your luck. I’ve always based my future on the theory that if Lewis doesn’t look out for Lewis, no one else will, but I see now that I’ve carried it too far. He who loses himself in the interest of others and the world always seems to be miraculously provided for — then with a smile,, “I suppose that you won’t look for us fellows now that you are heir to a million.” Never before had Jack heard such an oration from Lewis and he hard- ly knew how to take it. “See here, Lewis,” he said, “Please dbn’t ridicule my failure. It’s been hard enough without that.” “Didn’t you know that you are the sole heir to your Aunt Sue’s mon- ey? For years she didn’t know what to do with it, but now it’s all set- tled. A telegram came in this morning.” —EARL DAVIES ’25. “BESSIE SAVES THE DAY.” “Yes Sir,” continued Uncle Ebenezer Hitchens, “I won the pennant for Young’s College one year; done it all myself too; I did.” “Did yu now, Eb?” inquired Jeff Snothers looking up from his whit- tling. “Did you now? I never knew as you went to school.” At this point Aunt Tibby Myers entered the village store and post- office and Uncle Eb was forced to leave his comfortable chair near the stove to attend to his duties as store keeper. “Morning, Tibathia,” greeted Uncle Eb. “How is Ed’s rheumatiz to-day ?” “Oh, I left him splitting wood. His rheumatiz is like a lot of other fancied diseases; it’s a lot worser on days when there’s work to be did. He’d like me to think it’s achin’ him agin so’s he could get over here with them other loafers.” indicating Jeff Snothers and Joe Hopkins with a broad sweep of her thumb. “If it weren’t for me we’d ’a been on the street long ago.” Jeff bent lower over his whittling and didn’t bother to notice the thrust sent his way. Joe Snothers shifted) his chair around a little more and continued his humming, accompanied by a tattoo and the cracker barrel. “Yes, Yes, Tibby,’ ’soothed Uncle EB. “I’m glad Eb’s feeling bet- ter.” “Oh, he aint a feeling no better if you should ask him. That man can------” “Did you say two pounds of raisins or three?” interrupted Uncle Eb. The loyal old soul couldn’t bear to have his friend get this merited tirade directed against him, even by his wife, who had no sympathy with Edrs easy-going disposition. Aunt Tibby gathered her bundles about her and stowed them away in her ample market basket. She was the soul of neatness and order, and system prevailed in all her work. She had one of the kindest hearts

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 5rue Blue here it led northward until one day in May he landed in Atlantic City. He was standing one day, meditatively wondering if it had been worth while, wondering if he hadl paid too dearly for his experience and precious memories. His face had a foreign appearance and the heavy tan betrayed hard labor under a scorching sun. The lower part of his left ear was gone. He had left it in a gambling house in Beunos Aires when he took the part of a young man who was being cheated by a ring of crooks. He looked1 at his hands. The right had a long red scar ac- quired while working on a railroad in Guatemala when he prevented a falling timber from crushing a negro worker. A ragged bullet scar showed in the palm as the result of an argument with a Spaniard on a transport vessel He did not look for more signs of a wayward life as he knew they would be too evident. His eyes ifted so that he could focus the confusion and bustel of the street. A large limousine rolled by. In it was a burly fat man chewing ferociously on a short cigar and talking to the chaffeur. He had an an- xious bored appearance as one who had acquired success and money with- out having learned the art of making himself happy. He thought of Lewis. Perhaps he too was now enmeshed in the depths of business. Then his eye caught sight of a woman, embarrassed with numerous pack- ages. She was trying to cross the street but the bundles rendered her attempt difficult. Jack stepped forward andcheerfully volunteered his services. He found the bundles to be of more bulk than weight, and on the opposite side of the street he (Deposited them in a large touring car. As he turned to leave the woman called to him, “Wait a minute sir. Will you not give me your name? You see I thought it queer of a per- sen of your appearance to be so considerate and you look as if I could be of some help to you.” The woman who had said this was rather old and re- minded him of his mother. “No, I guess not,” he answered. “I always get along. I’m excep- tionally lucky; in fact they used to call me ‘Jack, the Lucky’ back in Springfield, Massachusetts. I’ve an aunt here in Atlantic City if I need help, but I-----.” “Are you John Richards, son of William Richards of Springfield?” in- terrupted; the woman. “Why yes. It seems uncanny that anyone in Atlantic City should know my name.” “Jack, I’m your Aunt Sue and you’re coming home with me right now and be my guest for a while,” she informed him with a smile. His stay with his aunt was all that even a lucky fellow like Jac1: could hope for. He arrived home on a bright beautiful Sabbath morning in early spring. As he walked down the street he saw many strange faces and those that he knew looked older and more sober than when he had last seen them. No one recognized him. H saw several new buildings. One was a large department store. On the awning was printed in large bold letters, ’’Murphy Bowdlen.” “That’s Lewis Bowden,” reflected Jack. “I must see him.” He did not need to go far for that dignified personage was coming down the street. His whole appearance had an air of business, from his well pol- ished shoes to his soft gray hat, but as he drew nearer one could see

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'fDrue Blue in th community, and was th first one on hand if there was illness in the neighborhood. Her sharp tongue made her respected by the “male ele- ment” of the town. Her departure from the store this morning was a relief to the pair back of the stove. She had an annoying habit of giving her opinion publicly about their methods of spending their leisure. “Yep! It was a great game.” Uncle Eb had a knack, as did all the others, of resuming his story just where he had left it, even though the intermission was a long one. “I can remember it just like yesterday. It musts bin all of twenty years ago; ’twas in the fall as I re’llects it. “Mother, she was west to Ioway a -vistin’ her sister Jane what mar- ried Henry Peters; member Henry don’t you, a son of old Jean out Casper way?” “I — Eh? Oh yes, about the football game. Well Tibby was at the bottom of it.” Here Jeff and Joe nodded knowingly. “She and Ed was on the farm then, they was, and just awful busy. Tibby’d promised mother a settin’ of her White Rock eggs and1 nothing wuld do but I’d have to come over after ’em. Their farm was ’tother side of Johnstown so’s it made a long trip. Well, I waited till one Satur- day so’s Sarah Jane Leland could stay in the store, and I started out about nine o’clck. I got out to Tibby’s just afore dinner; they wan’t expectin’ me so I put up the team and' visited with Ed for a while till dinner time. “Maud, that’t their youngest daughter, was the only one left to home, wa’n’t there; off some’res to a jubilee of some sort. After dinner I got all set ready to go back. “Oh,” says Tibby, “could you take me and Bessie along with you ’fur’s Johnstown ?” “Why sure,” says I. “How long will it take her to get ready ?” “But Tibby never heard me ’till she was racin’ off to the barn. Back she came in a minute a leadin’ along one of the biggest oxen I ever seen. I aint no coward, I aint, but I jumped when I seen that critter. Black and white he was, with a head big as a keg set on a neck thick as that stump out in Ly Whitman’s back pasture— recollect, Joe, how you and me set there one day awaitin’ for Ed to go fishin’ with us ?” Joe nodded his head in recollection and Uncle Eb went on. “There was Tibby, cool as a cucumber, aleadin’ that there monster by the halter. “You hold Bessie Eb, till I get my sunbonnet and calls up Sam Ver- ners that we’re a comin.” “Is that Bessie,” I gasped—(I thought mebbe Bessie was one of the neighbors).” “Why Bessie aint no kind of a name for that kind of a cow.” “Oh Bessie aint his real name, Smarty—it’s just short for Bessemer, the man’s name that raised him from a calf. He’s mild as a lamb, Maud leads him all over.” “I took holt of the rope and watched Bessie eat grass till Tibby got ready. We dumb in the buggy—me a drivin’ and Tibby holdin’ on to the rope over the back. Bessie walked1 along behind as nice as could be. By the end of a couple of miles I wan’t scairt no more of him hittin us sudden-like from behind. We got a talkin’ and I clean forgot about him abein’ there. When we got in sight of the old fair grounds and seen the biggest crowds a jumpin’ around out there—‘why, what the tarnation’, I