Bethel University - Spire Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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THE ACORN 11 MODERNIZED It was Indian summer, a clear evening in September. The saffron colored quarter moon was scorching the sky against which :t hung. A purple haze rimming around it, dimmed its pale light as it fell upon the upturned face of Constance and the curly locks of Jack. “No, I tell you, Jack,” she was saying, “the old perverted ideas have changed now. We can now have more than one friend and still be good. I have indeed been talking a good deal with Gerald since he arrived. But you know he is a nice college bred young man and has given me no occasion to quit speaking with him. Constance, you know I would be very soiry if you would not be on speaking terms with anyone. But that is not what I mean.” “Now see here, Jack, that is as far as my relations with Gerald reach. We have been living here in this frontier town all our lives and are not yet quite up lo all the modern customs of behavior. Why. here we have been listening to our mothers give us their own account of their ideal courtship days, how true they were to their lovers never spoke to any one else, and all that ancient truck—Oh, I tell you. we must be free and talk to everybody.” “Well, you seem to know the latest style pretty well since that dude moved to town. Maybe it is so, but I liked the old ways better. ‘‘Oh, very well. Ha! ha! Say. let’s talk about something interesting. Do you remember, Jack, how many a beautiful summer evening we have spent in this garden? Ever since we were a couple of kids, and used to come here and pick strawberries until it was too dark to see them any longer, and then sit on this bench and eat them. “Yes, Constance, I remember them very well. Those were happy days all right.— Well, It is now getting pretty late and I have a hard day's work before me, so 1 must go home. Quite reluctantly he kissed her good night and started for his home, a short distance outside of the small western town. Constance remained on the bench. As she saw his figure slowly departing in the night, she muttered to herself: “That's just the way these country dupes are. Gerald has even hinted to this a couple of times. Oh, 1 don’t want any of this old tied down business for mine. I am going to be free and have some fun out of this world. When I am older I can redeem my promise to poor old foolish Jack. Gerald is going away soon anyway. Why can’t I talk and have fun with him while he is here. Anyway he does really pay more attention to me than to the other gills. As she sat there she heard steps coming from the house. They were close by. Ah, had someone heard her soliquy in the dark? She became frightened with shame. “Oh, here you are! “Is it you, Gerald? said Constance with a trembling voice. “What’s the matter, did I scare you, are you frightened? he asked. “No—yes, I got a little scared just as I heard you coming in the dark.—I—I didn’t know who it was.” “Ah, tut. tut, it certainly was a rowdy act for me to do. How you tremble. I will hold your hand. What an ideal little hand you have!’’ He held the hand up in the dim moonlight. Slowly he brought it nearer his face. She quivered and jerked it back just as he pressed his lips against it. For a moment her eyes were riveted upon him sternly. He met her gaze and in a moment his playful, yet manly look had conquered, and she smiled as she

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10 THE AC 0RN THE CLASS OF »11. Come tell, 0 Muse, a thing or two to me; Is this to be a tale of happy days. Now gone, now passed beyond our eager reach, Or shall it merely be a strain where sadness breathes? My friend, if you will listen to my modest lay, If you will banisii restlessness away, Then shall I tell some blissful mem Ties, clear. Of all who made their way so firm and clear. A know a group with youthful touch. Whose minds have stored up very much. Of them I wish to tell a story Ne’er found on page of fame or glory. Joel Burkman. bright, ambitious, gay, Is president of our Alpha Be—, In studies he is ne’er a shirker But e’er a busy, noisy, worker. I know a man, tall, slender, thin, But, say, his brain is never dim, Me smiles so cheerful all day long. His name is Waif red Anderson. There is a girl, a maiden fair, Of bright blue eyes and cheeks so rare. She can recite and well declaim. And Edna Skooglun is her name. There is a man who wants to be a parson. I’ll tell his name, it is good Jonas Larson, When study hours are getting nigh too gritty, He’ll take a stroll down to our saintly city. A man of action, one who picks the flower Of learning from the well selected dower Is Andrew Edstrom, president of our class, O let not on our path of friendship grow the grass! Paul Anderson, so strong and hale and hearty Was never known to miss a party; To his position many do aspire Who cannot sing as he in any choir. Joel Anderson, the theme of many lays, In Finland spent his early boyhood days, A student stiong, and poet of the dawn, He is the keeper of our well-kept lawn. .7. Ahlquist stands alone without a peer. No lesson is there but he gets it clear; To foreign fields is his ambition. Success we wish his worthy mission. There is a little boy, the smallest of the class. Who leads us all in running very fast, His name all can guess, who know how to read, He is nobody else but Oscar Freed. There is a girl with sunny face Who sings and plays with modest grace. She is a student with sound, clear mind, Yet, Alice Lund holm is always kind. Nathaneal Edwall, calm, sincere, meek, En joys his magniloquent words to speak Among this band he stands a preacher Romantic spirit names him seer and teacher. Alas! I see this class From Bethel's halls retreating; Into the world they pass A handful glad hearts heating. Fare thee well, O class of 'leven, May your message bring Sweet repose to hearts late riven And a hope for ‘‘Endless Spring. Contributed.

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12 THE ACORN wiped away the teais which she had not been quite able to withhold. As she did so the pale moonlight beat upon her countenance. She looked to hilt as a fragrant rose budding thru golden tracery as she sat there with her yellow hair partly unraveled. He turned from her, still holding her hand. Involuntarily he again looked ar. her. How sweet and beautiful you look, Constance.” She shuddered, but again he had conquered. She even drew closer to him. He looked at her again. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful. She looked like a queen of fairy land. Never had he been so enticed. He grasped her other hand. She submitted. Their breath was coining in quick jerks. Those possessing eyes! Those bewitching lips! Oh, how inviting they looked! He breathed heavily! Me stooped: his face felt her warm breath. 'I'he next instant their moist lips were pressed firmly together for a moment, then she withdrew. What have you done?” she cried. Where is Jack? Let us now return for a moment to Jack. When he arrived at his home he immediately retired. A hard day’s labor and the cool evening air had made him drowsy, and ho scon fell into a fitful sleep. He had only been in bed a moment it seemed, when his head felt uncomfortable. He put his hand to his forehead and felt a feverish beat. Turning to his side, he beheld Constance standing there. Never did she look so beautiful. Was this really his beloved sweetheart or was it an angel. He looked again and more intently to sec if she did not have a supernatural halo about her head. No, there was none. This was his Constance. Never did ho love her more. Ah. she had come hack to him. How lovable she looked. He reached forth his hand to seize her. She stepped back. He reached further, she again withdrew. Unable to restrain himself he began to follow. No sooner had he started than she vanished in the distance with Gerald. He looked into the darkness. A feeling of terror came over him. Where was he. With trembling hands he struck a match and looked at his watch. It was half past ten. In a moment he realized that he had been dreaming. As he thought of it the awful truth came to him. Yes, Constance was disappearing with Gerald. Sleep had vanished from him. He dressed and went out into the cold air of the autumnal evening. Involuntarily his steps wound their way to the garden where he had spent so many a happy evening with Ills beloved. He could feel the blood rushing in torrents thru his system. Every twig and branch by the roadside reminded him of her he Lad lost. Everything in life had lost its value. What was there worth living for? Half unconscious lie stumbled rather than walked into the garden. Every step was bringing him closer to her, but he could not stop. In this state of mind lie presently confronted the scene we have just described. The passion of anger siezed him like a monster. With liis eyes shining like those of a raving maniac he rushed forward and grabbed the terrified Gerald by the shoulders. Jn a moment he would - tear to pieces the cause of all his late grief. With the momentary strength of utter madness lie struck the unnerved Gerald blow upon blow. The latter sank upon the ground. Jack, still wild with anger, raised from the prostrate body and turned toward Constance with a gleam of insane delight in his eyes. But Jo! Lying there, seemingly dead, was his beloved. In a moment he realized what he had done. His anger, his hatred left him. Was he a murderer? Meanwhile Constance’s mother had become anxious for her daughter and came into the garden to look for her. It is unnecessary to relate what she found there. As Jack saw her coming, lie tried to flee.