Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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6 THE MAGNET last the townsmen could no longer stand the attack and were forced to surrender. This, indeed was a sad fact; but sadder still were the figures of a woman and a man lying side by side in cold death on the battlefield. As the sun sank that night it was not upon the beautiful city of the morning, but upon a changed town. Women were silently weeping over their dead, some sitting in the streets with their children beside them, while they saw their earthly possessions and their homes going up in smoke. The streets still resounded with musketry and the brawls of the drunken soldiers. Indeed it was quite a different city from that of the morning—then a beautiful city—now a mass of desolation and misery. Common Sense vs. Ignorance. (By Stella Zuckerman.) OBADIAH Jeremy was tired. Yes, dead tired of having Maria, his wife, going to town shopping. First, she would gape around into all the shop windows and spend half a day doing nothing. Then she would have to have an extra meal and perhaps go to the expense of staying over. So he, Mr. Obadiah Jeremy, was going to do the shopping. He got a list from Maria and, to his extreme embarrassment, was forced to sling a large market basket over his arm. It was six o’clock when he started. He would walk to Elbourne, a distance of a few miles, and from thence he would drive to the city. As he walked along he heard subdued giggles on all sides, and “Jeremy, going to buy some table linen?” or “I hope Maria’s hat will fit her finely after ye try it on for her,” and the like greeted him on all sides. When he arrived in the city he looked over his list. First there was “5 2 percale per 10c.” He walked into the department store of Higgins Son and showed the first item on the list to the saleslady. In “per” the “p” was peculiarly similar to a “t.” She studied for awhile, then said: “Oh, certainly 5y2 percolators at 10c apiece. Oh, Mabel, come here; Zeke wants 5F2 percolators. Sell him five and the spout of another. “‘But, Miss,” he expostulated, “I’m sure Marie said that came by the yard.” A bright idea struck the two salesladies. “Ah, she was only kiddin’; she meant yuh can pour out 5l 2 yards of coffee.” “Now, thinkin’ of it, she did say somethin’ about pourin’ out.” Well, thank goodness, the first thing was bought. New, next was written cheap serge. He thought for awhile, for she did say something about that serge. Well, he asked for cheap serge. There was a piece which could not be sold, a gaudy purple. He priced a few pieces. Finding the purple cheapest, he purchased it. Next came the word “shoes.” “Now, leave me think; for whom were these— John, Susan, Maria?” He pondered and pondered and then made up his mind. He’d get size 7; they couldn’t fall off Susan’s or Maria’s feet if he had the buttons re-set a little tighter, and he’d get a good, hard working shoe and it would do for all. One more item. Oh ! What did he see? A tonic for falling hair, guaranteed to produce a good crop of hair. Fie tested a few bottles—he sort of liked the smell1

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THE MAGNET 5 AS THE SUN SANK. (By Beulah Scott.) ME sun had just begun to peep over the horizon, and gradually the dewy shadow was being lifted from the earth. Yet the people of the city in the northern part of France were astir. The streets resounded with the clash of musketry and the dragging of the cannon. Wails from children and the barking of dogs filled the air. Sturdy men and sad-faced women moved swiftly here and there. Why was all this commotion; this uneasiness ? The magistrate of the town, Monsieur Duport, had received a message the day before that the Germans were marching in that direction and would probably arrive there the following day. This was the cause of such distress. The sun had risen and its rays spread over the little city, filling it with beauty. The magistrate’s house, situated on the outskirts, was especially an object of much beauty. He and his wife, and their two children, twins, about twenty years of age, Francesco and Francis, lived here with a few servants. Francesco was the more boy of the two. In her childhood she had scorned her dolls and would run off and play with her brother and his friends. So she got the name of “Tom-boy” by the townsmen. Francis was very bashful and feminine in his tastes. Their father and mother had gone to the main part of the town— he to muster his men—she to comfort the women. Francesco and Francis were to come later with the servants. Francis was one of those fellows who put up a bold front, but really was a coward at heart. At the last minute he backed out. “I can't go! I simply can’t go!” he said to his sister. You must go! Think of the honor of our family ! What will father say ? You'll have to go! We’ll be dishonored forever! But I have a plan! You change clothes with me and I’ll go in your stead. We are exactly alike and no one will know the difference. I was always more of a boy than you, anyway —and it will save our family honor !” The change was quickly made and they proceeded to the town. Francesco took her position with the defenders, Francis taking his with the women. At noon the opposing army drew near. The townsmen, with their forces, advanced to meet them. The streets were deserted and all was quiet. The women had gone to the city hall and there awaited the tiding of the battle. The roar of the cannon disturbed the quietness and the battle raged furiously the whole day. In the meanwhile a battle was raging inside the heart of Francis. Why was he staying here with helpless women, when he might be doing something for his country? His own sister was out there fighting like a tigress. The disdain of the people—could he stand this? Somehow courage leaped up into his very soul. He rushed from the hall, to the amazement of all the women. Out of the city gate he rushed to the field of battle, forgetting that he was dressed as a woman. Up to the front he rushed, and the opposing army even stopped to see the cause of all the excitement. All they could see was a furious woman, followed by a man, who seemed to be trying to say something to her. This put life into the hearts of the townsmen and on they rushed after the pair with increased ferocity. Into the thick of the battle went the band, following the leader, a supposed woman. The battle was doubtful, each side doing its best. At

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'I HE MAGNET and didn’t mind standing for a good while and having the salesgirl—“by gosh, she was purty,” he afterwards told his friends—hold the corks to his nose. He walked around and examined a few new things. There were razors, for instance—safety, safety—no way to cut yourself, even if you wanted to. Then there were purty, bright socks for John— if he didn’t like them, Susan could wear them around home with her long skirts, lie looked at his watch—three o’clock and no dinner. lie stepped into a restaurant, had dinner and, heaving a sigh of relief, started homeward. At seven o’clock he was home. Maria was waiting impatiently for him. “Hand me that basket, Obadiah ! Let’s see, what’s all these gold kittles here fer?” “Why, that’s the per—perc—oh, you know!” “My goodness gracious, not my 5y2 yards percale! And the shoes—why, these is big enough fer you! I wanted them fer the preacher’s new baby! And Obadiah Jeremy, purple serge—purple ! My green is a bit bright, and when it is gathered it’ll get darker, but never, never will it get dark enough to be trimmed with purple.” “Obadiah, tomorrow ye’ll hitch up and take every last thing back, and ye’ll jest stand up with yer own lips and ye’ll tell me, ‘Woman is my beat.’ She’d never let anyone talk her into five brass kettles of percale, nor git bright purple to trim green, nor shoes fer a 20-year-old instead of a month old, and, lastly, no water with a fine smell to bring back what nature took. Now, Obadiah, say ‘Woman is my beat’.” And doggedly Obadiah repeated, “Woman is my beat.” CLIP'S INITIATION. (By Ethel Osgood) 'FjL I 1E Mecklenburg University boast-ed one very select fraternity, and when Clip Farrington entered Mecklenburg he was asked to join it. This was an honor that Clip accepted, and, being an athlete, he foresaw the advantage of being a member of the Sim Forst Fraternity. On entering the Sim Forst he discovered it was a secret organization and that each new member was duly initiated. Clip’s stunts had not been any display of strength, but of such a nature as to humble his pride. He had had his hair shaved and wore a beard for a week; he had sold papers while his fellow-classmates had jeered at him; he had painted the word “Ford” all over the president’s new six-cylinder car, under the muzzle of a revolver held by the hand of one of the members of the Sim Forst. All this Clip had done, and yet one more remained for him to do before he could be a full-fledged member of the fraternity—so the letter read which his room-mate had just given him. “Go to the little house at the edge o-r the woods, on the north road. There you will find further directions. You have to ride on the mule which is hitched in front of the Sanitary Drug Store. Store at 7:3o. You are being watched.” This notice was type-written, so it did not enlighten Clip as to the perpetrator. Just the same it did not dampen Clip’s enthusiasm. Promptly at 7130 he ap peared at the Sanitary Drug Store. There stood the inoffensive mule, in all its gorgeous trimmings. Its head was bandaged in alternate red and yellow