Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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 SPEAKING OF PEACOCKS MARJORIE MITCHELL ’15 TELL you every woman is as vain as a peacock,” an- nounced Mr. Vale as he held his coffee cup in mid-air. Whenever one of them gets a new dress or a hat or even shoes, she thinks of nothing for a week but how well she looks. Watch a woman in a new suit. Every time she goes by a store window, she looks at her re- flection and mentally, if not actually, gives herself an approving pat.” And are men never vain?” questioned bis wife. Did you ever see me strutting up and down in a new suit?” he exclaimed indignantly, 1 should hope not! I have something else to think about besides the!most idiotic angle for my hat, the craziest style imaginable in clothes, and whether my hair, brushed such and such a way, would make me look more distinguished than the way I now choose to wear it, or if my neckties should be a hundredth of a shade different from what they are in order to look well with my eyes.” No,” said Mrs. Vale, but I suppose you know the old saying about peacocks, that when they see their feet, they drop their tails and stop strutting. Now I think it quite possible to account for man’s lack of vanity by the size of his feet. Being so much larger than woman’s and so much more in evidence that —.” “There you go,” interrupted her husband. “Just like a woman, arguing against herself every time.” But why?” Because indirectly you are trying to brag about your little feet,” finished her husband. Soon afterwards, when they had completed their dinner in si- lence and had adjourned to the living room, Mr. Vale to peruke his evening paper and smoke, and Mrs. Vale to work on a bit of sewing which most housekeepers usually have at hand, the door- bell gave a loud ring and Mrs. Vale’s brother Ernest, a football star from a near-by University, entered. His face was somewhat cut and bruised, and he also limped a little, these afflictions being the results of the afternoon’s game. When he entered the room, 8

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THE DART we decided to go as high as possible, we were soon on our way once again. It is hard for us to realize that just a little higher on the mountain, the tourists have the unusual pleasure of snow-balling just as vigorously as we do here in January. The train winds around and around, until at last we have entered a cold dark tun- nel which is very long. The engine puffed along slowly, and every few feet we passed a guard who gave the signals showing that the tracks are safe. The train stopped and I supposed we had come to the Jungfrau- bahn. But no! we were at a place called Eismeer. Leaving the train we took a very romantic walk in a cross-tunnel of rock ice. It was illuminated by inverted green and yellow lights which cast forth a very strange glow. This place is just a small platform where you have a good view of the mountains. It boasts of one of the highest post offices in the world, at an elevation of over 10,000 feet. After enjoying a wonderful view of the beautiful snow cov- ered mountains, we hurried back to the train and rode ten min- utes longer in the tunnel before we got off for dinner. We rode for fifty-five minutes in the tunnel, before we reach ed the Jungfrauhoch, nearly 12,000 feet above sea level. The breathing there is difficult as the air is very rare. The little res taurant where we ate dinner was built on the mountain side, and is everywhere surrounded by snow and ice. After luncheon we started for a mountain climb and a frolic in the snow. We all had our Alpine climbing sticks for assistance in treading over the snow and ice. Soon we entered a cave of ice. It was very cold there and the path was very icy. Without my spiked cane I should never have been able to continue on the ex- cursion. I believe that the snow was the purest and cleanest that I have ever seen. You know that the Jungfrau mountain is so called because the Swiss say, the mountain is as white and pure as the young wife. Coming out of the cave, we had a fine game of snow-balling. It was my first experience of snow-balling in August, but I found the sport so enjoyable that I hope I may repeat it sometime in the future.. We then took a farewell glance at the wonderful scene, on one side upon the dusky forests and the green meadows, and on the other side upon the far stretching ice fields, while we said Aufwieder sehen.” 7

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THE DART he looked as one would expect the king of England to lcok after he had been attacked by suffragettes,—more or less disabled but still like a great and widely known man. Brimming over with satisfaction, he did not wait to be asked about the game, but began voluntarily. Mrs. Vale cast an appre- hensive glance at her best mahogany chair, as Ernest having en- sconced himself in a large leather affair, preparatory to spending the evening in comfort, put his feet upon it. Why must a man in order to be thoroly comfortable, have his feet upon some choice article of furniture? This was his refrain: “Say! talk about all the fight-for-your-life scraps that I was ever in! Why any ordinary game of football would have about as much life in it as a Sunday School class singing a Christmas song, compared with that game this afternoon. Say, Hap, you know Big Bill Steen? Well, I played against him. Talk about your Gibraltars! Why, he was a perfect mountain to move. He didn’t stop me, tho’ you bet! I’m not so slow myself when I get started. I had the ball and was speeding for a touch-down when that Stonewall Jackson stepped in front of me. I thought here’s where I get no cheers from the grandstand, more likely a nurse from the hospital, but bucked up, for I thot I might as well get a few digs in on the other fellow while he was killing me. Well, I went thru him so fast that he dosen’t know yet what hit him. Won the game on it. The crowd went mad. Oh, I should worry about Big Bill or anyone else when I’m in form.” So he raved, telling of others’ playing but always as compar- ed with his. After awhile Mrs. Vale directed his thoughts into another channel by asking: “Have you and Dolly made up your little spat yet?” “You bet: that was over long ago. When she heard about my being on the team and doing such good work, she came a- round all right. Knew she would, so I just let her take her time to it. Catch a girl throwing me over for that simpleton with the eyeglasses, who has a name that sounds like a new kind of choco- lates.” A son of Adam to be sure, blaming it on Eve. Later in the evening when Mr. Vale obtained the floor, the talk turned to that all absorbing topic, “Business.” “Oh yes,” he said, “Knew I would get in ahead of Hapwel in 9