Atwood Hammond High School - Post Yearbook (Atwood, IL)

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 DENTIST Er. C. CU. Calvert Iwn CAR? OP CHILDREN’S TEETH. BRIDGE WORK. Tr atir.eat of the Teeth .1 Specialty nrcaslOWALLY YOU Meet one whose love for exaggeration is intense and whose conscience is so elastic that lie will stretch the truth to the utmost limit. He may be a gentleman of leisure or he may be a man with Hardware to sell. UP-TO-DATE In either case, better be careful how you accept what he says. We aim to speak the truth and to mis- MILLINERY represent in nothing. If needing anything in the Hardware line we can suit you and at right prices. Mrs. Frank Weatherholt Flickinger Bros. Dealers in Hardware, Stoves, Tin and Granite Ware, Paints, Oils, Etc.

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that In will forget that he is living, and yell himself hoarse when the team makes a touchdown. If the team loses, he weeps with the team. If the team wins, he goes mad with the rest of the crowd, yells like an Indian, and helps to carry the team off the field. When night comes a parade starts for down town to hold a celebration. Hoards, planks, piano cases, and boxes begin to appear from all directions. Soon, a big bonfire i blazing. Everybody yells and has a good time. Street car traffic may be stopped, and the police force may be called out to put down the riot, but the whole thing is enjoyable, and is an event to be remembered for a life time. Such pranks may seem foolish but I believe they have a place in a man's general education. It is a fine thing to get one's bood stirred up occasionally, and it is always beneficial to work up a little enthusiasm now and then. The best things to be learned cannot always be gotten from books. Books are a fine thing, but they are only a means towards an end. A working knowledge which is to be gotten from books is necessary, but only constitutes the foundation of an education. The “book worn) .or the man whose accomplishments are limited to what he has learned from books, of little value to the win 1 I. The man who can think for himself and knows how to apply knowledge is the one who wins. There is a great demand for people who can stand on their own feet and take part in real life; people who arc wide awak- and ready to get busy. In this lies the value of a university training. There are so many things here to employ one's time and so many opportunities for development that if there is any good in a man at all, four years' university training will bring it out. After living the life of an earnest student for that time one ought to develop enough enthusiasm to last him a lifetime. This is why a university training helps a man to get along in the world. The people who arc ready and willing to work soon advance above the sleeping multitude. The song,“Wait for an opportunity, is the chant of a lazy man. The oppressive age is past. All people have equal chances. Success is not a question of opportunity. It is simply a matter of getting busy. The man who works gains. The man who loafs loses. This is in accord with all laws of nature and rules of justice. What a man becomes varies with the closeness with which he sticks to the motto “Get Busy.”

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“What! Master, you are jesting with us! No, I know what I am saying.’ But how is it conceivable that a dead man can have pictured his own death agony'' By conceiving that a living man may have guessed or represented his own death. Moreover, you know that in certain religious orders to pronounce final vows is to die. “Ah! you believe—? 1 believe that that woman who is present in the flesh in the background of the picture was the soul aud the life of this monk who is dying on the ground. I believe that when she died, he believed himsell dead also and did die, in fact, as regards the world. I believe, in short, that this work, more than the last minute of its hero or painter (who are indubitably one and the same person), represents the taking of vows by a young man disillusioned of earthly joys. So tnat he can be living yet ' Yes, he can In? living yet, and as we know the date of this occurrence, perhaps his spirit has again become peaceful and even joyful, and the unknown artist may be today a very fat and jolly old man. As for that, there is a way to find out, and above all we must ascertain if he painted any more works. Follow me. And, so speaking. Rubens approached a monk who was praying in another chapel and asked him with Ins habitnal boldness, Will you tell the Father Prior that 1 wish to speak to him on behalf of the King. The Prior, who was a man of considerable age. arose laboriously aud replied in an humble and broken voice What do you want of me? I am the prior. Pardon me, father, for interrupting your prayers, replied Rubens, Can you tell me who is the painter of this picture? Of this picture? exclaimed the monk, “what would you think of me if I replied that 1 had forgotten:” What! You knew and can have forgotten it?' Yes, my son, 1 have forgotten completely. Then, lather,” said Rubens, in a tone of insolent jest, you have a verv bad memory. The Prior knelt again without making any reply. I come in the name of the King cried the proud and overindulged Fleming. What more do you desire, brother?” murmured the monk, slowly raising his head. To buy this picture of you. This picture is not for sale. Well, then, tell me where I can find its painter. His majesty will wish to know him, and 1 must embrace him, congratulate him, show him my admiration and affection. All this is alike incapable of realization. Its painter is no longer in the world. He is dead!’ exclaimed Rubens in despair. The master spoke well, said one of his pupils, this picture was painted by a dead man. He is dead! repealed Rubens, and no one knew him. Ili.s name is lorgotten; his name, which should be immortal: his name, which would have eclipsed my own. Yes, mine, lather, added the artist with noble pride, lor you must know that 1 am Peter Paul Rubens! At this name, famous throughout the world, and of which from its connection with a hundred majestic paintings, true marvels of art, no man consecrated to tiod was ignorant, the palli i lace ol the Prior suddenly flushed amt his downcast eyes were raised and fixed on the stranger's countenance with as much veneration as surprise. All! you knew me! exclaimed Rubens with childish satisfaction. 1 aui glad. Now you will belessoia monk toward me S then ... cornel Will you sell me the picture? You ask an impossibility replied the Prior. “Well then, do you know of any other work of this ill-fated genius? fan you not remember his name? Will you t» lI me when he died?' You have misunderstood me, replied the monk, 1 tola you that the painter of this picture did not belong to the world, but that does not mean precisely that he is dead. Oh! he lives! he lives! cried all the artists, let us know him.” Why? The unhappy man has renounced everything t .at is worldly. He has nothing to do with men . nothing I beg you, therefore, let him die in peace.” No, said Rubens with enthusiasm, this cannot be father. When Io l kindles in a soul the sacred lire of