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

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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

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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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'fprue 'Blue says. “Oh, it’s just a foot-ball game,” says Tibby. “I never seen one neith- er but Maudie says that it’s lots of excitement. She’s a visitin’ one of the girls in town, just so she can see this game and James Clark—that’s Tom’sboy—is aplayin’ today.” “Soon’s we got a little nearer, old Ben picks up. He don’t like all their hollerin’.. “Easy Boy,” says I. “Ben was streaky, he was. If he took the notion not to go a place nothin’ would take him there, and I seen right there I was agoin’ to have trouble gettin’ past. I plumb forgot about Bessie. Ben started] to streak along a lot faster than Bessie wanted to go. Tibby kept aholt of the rope, though, and drug him along. Then Bessie seen the crowd with their everlastin’ hollerin’ and he started to drag back.” “You hold him Eb,” hollers Tibby. “Give me the lines.” “So like a darn fool, I hands her the lines. Right there I seen that Besise wasn’t agoin’ to keep up with old Ben, so there wan’t nothin’ for me to do but get out over the back and stay with him. If he’d a got away he might a ot hurt the crowd, but his looks looked as if he might. “Just as I was gettin’ out he yanked the rope out of rny hands; I grabbed it quick, but not afore he’d started out, headin’ on a beeline for that game. Just then they let out a lot more whoops, and he speeded up. “Snag him ’round that post, Eb, I hears Tibby’s voice above the racket; so I tried to steer him toward one of them posts. Just then the players heads for us, and Bessie heads for teh country. I seen that the line we was a followin’ would about drag me past one of them posts they had set up an’ it did. The jar threw me plumb off my feet and turned Bessie around in his tracks, and I hurried and twisted the rope around once more, and then Bessie bellered. Them players wan’t more’n fifteen feet from us, but they was that busy upsettin’ one another that they never seen us. “When Bessie bellered they all gawped arund, they did. Someone yells ‘Hip,’ and here comes one young feller with the ball under his arm headin’ right for Bessie. I hollers at him to stop but he keeps right on a comin.’ All the others were that scart all they could do was to watch him. Bessie bellered again and lowered his head. I shut my yes; I knew what wuuld happen, I did. I didn’t dast to open ’em agin till I felt somethin’ jerk on the rope in my hand, and there was that Young’s eller a anchorin’ Bessie fast to the post, solid and tight.” The telephone had been ringing insistently for five minutes, but Uncle ]b was deep in his story, and his listeners were back with him toi that football game. “The Young feller turned! to me and demanded ‘Where’d you get Bessie? The Lord sent him to save the game for us.’ “The Lord never,” says I. “I brought him myself; but I thought you was a goner.” “Nope! Bessie wouldn’t hut me,” says he. “Why, Maudie and I used to ride him when we were kids.” “I just set there weak as a rag, till Tibby came a-walkin’ up. “Why James,” says she, “What happened to Uncle Eb?” “Mrs Meyers,” says he, “Bessie saved the pennant for our school. He