Technical High School - Tech Tiger Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

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YIH.S. TDC 93016 : 1907 25 ought but they're a mite too crooked, a leetle dishonest, but when the world finds a man as is upright and strong and can't be thrown by the strongest blasts, he's the man the worldwants but he's a scarce article. Such a man might not be known out- side a small circle and yet those as knew him would be better for it. This Hag pole would have lived and died without the high honor we are goin' to give it had I not found it and carried it from the forest, but the young trees as would sprout to take its place would be straighter and better timber for its havin' been there. f'Every morning I shall raise Old Glory on the mountain, that it may honor nature's highest work. Those of you as see it wavin' in the distance may know it's a signal of good cheer, and that the old man who guards it by night, so far separated from any neighbors, be still in the same world with you. An old man far away from you all but not lonely, for, though his wife left him two years ago, and his boy doesn't come back, he has given his life to his Maker, and while he lives he will keep the farm as well as he can for the boy, believin' that all is well for God knows best. When the old man finished speaking, the pole was pushed into place, the hole was filled with stones and cement, and the flag was hoisted amid loud cheers. Then the minister gave a short prayer, after which the people walked back to their carriages and started for their homes. One October afternoon the old man climbed the mountain to haul down the Hag for the night. The sun was sinking in the west, and he stopped, more from habit than with hope, to look toward the line of railroad track. In front stretched the tree tops, decked in all the colors of autumn grandeur and through a long leafy lane the piece of track was visible. Suddenly a train rushed by and a column of steam shot into the air from a place near the cabin of the engine. Was it the whistle that had blown, or was it again the safety valve which had deceived him once before? He was wild with excitement, and throwing the flag over his shoulder he dashed down toward the house. Half way down the hill he stopped, breathless from his exertions, and lay down to rest. The sun sank behind the hill. The evening star

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24 UDB NNOI6 2 1907 V01 iff the mountain. Every one who could leave his work and find room in some wheeled conveyance put on his best clothes and went to the flag raising in honor of the beloved old man. Mr. Snow stood on the sheep-cropped lawn, and, as the carriages arrived, greeted each person so cordially that the hearts of the roughest among the visitors were warmed. Soon the little party assembled on the top of the mountain and the people seated themselves in the form of a crescent on the slope of a mossy knoll. Before them were Mr. Snow, the village minister, and the men who were to lift the pole into place. The great white pole lay upon the ground as if resting before the long years of never ceas- ing duty which were so soon to begin. The old man stood forth to speak and every noise died away except the whisperings of a clump of nearby pine trees. He was dressed in a brown woolen shirt thrown open at the neck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his brown trousers were tucked inside his leather boots. As he lifted his head to speak, a breeze parted his long white beard, flying it in streamers over his broad shoulders, and threw back his long silver hair, thus sharpening the strong and beautiful lines of his face. Friends, he began, we have gathered here to see sot up a tall straight pole to bear up above the tops of these mountains, the most wonderful work of nature, the beautiful flag of this free country. Now to find that pole and make it ready has taken me nigh a year. I have hunted for months through these many acres of tall trees, which God has given me a right to cut, before I found the one as lies here. One tree was straight and tall, taller than this one by many a foot, but when I hit it with my axe it gave a hollow noise and so I left it standing, sorry that it wasn't as good as it looked. A week after that I ran agin another tree that seemed good, but it had a crooked top and I went on with my huntin'. At last I found this one here, and felt that my long search was worth while. It's solid all through, and straight as an arrow, and'll brave the strongest blasts. Now I think about how my lookin' for the pole be like lookin' for the best and strongest men. The world be full of men and many of them look all right on the outside, but, when they have been sounded, prove too hollow for their place in life. Then there! are lots of men as are strong enough to stand where they

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26 CD6 0t'i01'6 : 1907 VUL iv took the Watch and held it until the thousands of diamond lights were shining on the earth, and then he too sank behind the hill. A man walked up the village road. His eyes were cast down, for his mind was laboring with strange thoughts. Soon he came to the old White farm house. There was no light inside but the door was unlocked and he strode into the large room. The old- fashioned clock stood in the corner monotonously ticking away the minutes. The dying embers in the fireplace gently crackled and Hickered. A shaft of Warm light came in the Window, re- flected from the glass front of a cabinet and found the man's face still troubled by the untold story of his long absence and adventures. But the face was handsome in its strength, por- traying a man like the flag-pole on the hill, high in honor, true to the core, and unchangeable in the roughest blasts of fortune. Suddenly all was deathly silent. The clock had stopped ticking, the last spark in the ashes had faded into darkness. With a dread foreboding the man rushed from the house and turned into the Wellworn path leading to the top of the mountain. Soon he stopped, for there by the path, with his head resting in a cluster of ferns, his eyes closed and his hands folded as if in prayer, lay the old man, his face upturned to the stars. It was very beautiful, peaceful, still. The long White beard was partly buried beneath an American Hag which lay across his breast, and a slender frost- bitten golden-rod had bent its head to mingle with the silver hair. The man fell on his knees and laid one hand upon the cold clasped hands before him. f'Dad, he cried, and dropped his head on the dead man's arm and wept. uh Q ,D 45 3