Jackson High School - Osky Wow Yearbook (Jackson, OH)

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ed at top speed, which was not very fast considering I was very much fatter and not so tall as I now am. Before I had gone very far I was almost run down. My breath came in quick, short gasps. I could hear the unearthly sound of those bones. Once when I glanced back over my shoulder to see where he was. I mentally concluded that he was the liveliest Death I had ever encountered. He kept very close to me but did not try to forge ahead. By this time, the upper classmen had resumed their laughing and jeering. As I was nearing the end, that is the end of me and not the track, someone shot out his foot and tripped me up. I fell heavily and started to rise, rubbing my head as I did so-just then I heard my father’s voice, I wonder what’s wrong with that boy of late, he can’t sit down a minute without going to sleep and falling out of his chair.” “OUR FACULTY.” Three cheers and a tiger for the faculty Of the jolly J. H. S. . They’re the wisest lot of instructors That ever did students bless. Supt. Kinnison heads the list With hair, once red, turned gray; And in joke or pun or stern command, That twinkle e’er in his eye doth stay. Prof. Henson, wise as principals come, The second in this list; But second in wisdom? Ah! dear no, He has not first place missed. Prof. Parrot, rich in science deep And all that bothersome stuff, Tries strenuously it to explain, ’Till the poor student cries, “Enough!” M iss L. B. Jones, our great Math, shark. Is brilliant, versatile and wise; Her glory is her queenly height, Her wisdom, all the students prize. Prof. Newell comes with a “see here folks” To teach that Geometry hard; And English, too, the Ereshman’s lot, By which many reports are marred. M iss Edna Jones, our learned Latin sage, Delves deep in ancient narration, She teaches it all with a glad little smile And makes easy a hard translation. Fraulein Houser, our Deutche Leherim Last, if in quantity, not in quality, Teaches us Deutch quite merrily But permits not the least frivolity. Then three cheers give with a right good will For our faculty learned and wise, And three cheers, too, for the J. H. S., The High School we always will prize. —Ethel Eubanks, ’14. ELEVEN

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PR I VA STORY “A RACE WIrrH DEATH” BY BYRD STOU T ’ Twas the evening; of my first day in high school and what a feeling of joy was passing over me as I sat thinking of the events of the day Soon, however, my thoughts changed and I began thinking of the risk I was running of getting caught and initiated. This apprehensive reverie was broken by my father’s voice: “I should like for you to go up street for me this evening,’’ he was saying. “Very well,” said I, arising from my chair. After determining the nature of the errand, I got my cap and started. Before I had gone very far, while passing a dark alley, I was suddenly surrounded and seized by many hands. 1 would have raised a “kick’’ in objection to this treatment but someone grabbed my feet, and as soon as I began to “set up a howl’’ someone stuffed his dirty handkerchief or fist, I don’t know which, into my mouth. After that I gave up all hope of escape and went along as meek as a lamb. 1 was blind-folded and taken down the alley. After zig-zagging thru a labyrinth of alleys and narrow streets we finally came to a stop. Here they turned me around several times and then led me down “forty-eleven” flights of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs we wound around several subterranean passages and at last emerged into some sort of a room. I could hear talking and laughter and when the blind-fold was removed I nearly fainted, such a sight it was. 1 was surrounded by upper classmen of all descriptions who were laughing at and jeering me and occasionally someone would shove me, jab me in the ribs or do some other of the innumerable things which only a boy can think of. In front of me extending almost the entire length of the room was a smooth track which was, at a guess, ten feet wide. This was lined on either side by upper classmen. One boy was sitting on a platform which was somewhat raised. He seemed to be sort of a leader or judge. Suddenly the talking ceased, the judge was speaking. “The time has come for the Treshie’ to decide whether or not he shall continue to enjoy life.” I could feel big chills chasing each other down my spinal column. The judge went on, “ The condition is this: he shall run a race with ‘Death’; if he wins in the contest he will be allowed to depart unmolested, if not—” here he paused, and reaching behind him, he raised a piece of rope with a noose in one end and then pointed to a large ring fastened in the ceiling. He then commanded, “Death” will now appear!” Neither time nor space will permit me to describe my feelings during this interview. My readers can better imagine them. Then “Death” appeared. He was death with a vengeance. A tall skeleton, scantily dressed in a flowing sheet and incessantly kept rattling a skull and thigh-bone together. On the whole he was a very formidable opponent in a race in which my life was staked. However I was not allowed much time for meditation. In a few minutes the judge spoke, “On your mark!” and I, a FRESHMAN, was forced to line up beside that horrible creature called “Death.” The judge went on, “Get set!”, and followed it with the word, “Go!” Although I was frightened “almost entirely out of my wits,” 1 was not going to give up without a struggle. So off I start- TEN

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SENIOR CLASS 14