Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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24 THE SENIOR MAGNET fantasy Marybel Conabee To say the place was lonely would be insufficient; it was solitary and desolate, in a part of the country away from nearby towns. The sole road leading to it was stony and twisted, and narrow enough to endanger even my shiny new Austin. Yet it was just the type of road to beckon irresistibly to an amateur hunter of antiques, and my heart thrilled when, emerging from a long stretch of woodland, upon a high mound of land, I caught sight of a great, rambling, gray stone house. It was deserted. What treasures might it not contain? 1 wanted to rush up the tiny hill to the house, but my progress was obstructed by a rusty, barbed-wire fence, strongly built and reaching to my shoulder. The house was too fine to pass by, however; too grand to allow one to sleep in peace after being permitted the opportunity of viewing it. My collector’s instinct led me to follow this fence in the hope of finding a gate. I was not disappointed; soon I came to an old-fashioned stile, which I crossed easily. It was lazy weather, so I now took my course slowly, gazing above me at the uncertain sky. The place was deathly quiet. By my side flowed a deep, quiet stream which was dark as the woods from which it issued. All at once I felt the ground softening under my feet and, gazing down, saw that I was almost at the brink of one of the finest springs nature ever produced. Above it on the bank grew a mammoth willow tree with its gorgeous, drooping plumes almost touching the water. Fancy led me to dream of happy faces that in years gone by had bent to drink of its cool, sweet mountain water. Perhaps, even, a romantic young couple had sat beneath this tree upon its roomy, inviting roots, and had read their future in the depths of the spring. Or perhaps it was a sweet old lady who had come here to dream of happy days gone by. All my desire to see the quaint old house came back with a rush. I ran up the path and took it all in at a glance. It was grand ! I stepped upon the huge slab of stone which had served as a step down from the porch and caught my breath as I saw dimly engraved upon it the date— 1773.” 1773 !” Surely not that old ! But what had once been proud, haughty pillars lay rotting at my feet, and the porch was in ruins. The house was certainly ancient. I stepped onto the porch cautiously. The door was gone and, passing through the open doorway, I found myself in the hall. On the left began the most enticing circular staircase imaginable. Inquisitiveness urged me to follow it, but doubt of its stability held me back, so I looked to my right and left to investigate the first floor. On the left I saw a bare room, square in shape. Almost opposite the doorway was a large fireplace of quaint old tile. Otherwise, the room contained nothing of

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CLASS OF JANUARY, 1932 23 sv •w camp rise and repeat the scout benediction. The scouts hike back 'to their huts and retire for the night, but this time there is no laughing nor talking. By this sign, the camp director knows that his story has reached the hearts of his boys. He smiles to himself as one who has accomplished his purpose. The bugler sounds Taps” which seems to echo back these words from the distant hills: Day is done; Gone the sun From the lake, from the hill, from the sky; All is well, safely rest, God is nigh !” cMy Sister’s cProm of ’32 (As Bud saw it thru a window) LaVerne Allen The fellas an’ girls, they all went in pairs. ’Twas sure a swell dance; my sister wuz there. If you’d seen her a-primpin’ an’ fixin’ her hair, You’d a-thought it wuz given by some millionaire— Honest you would! There wuz oodles of colors, an’ a whole lot o’ pop, An’ that waltz they wuz playin’ sure wuzn’t a flop, An’ the girls wuz all smilin’ in their fellas eyes, An’ then turnin’ an’ dancin’ with some other guys— Honest they wuz! At last it wuz over; I thought it wuz time. (I wuz s’posed to be in bed since a quarter past nine). The girls wuz all sighin’ as they sauntered past ’Cause they couldn’t see how the time had gone so fast— Honest they wuz! They seemed sorta sad as they all walked away; It seemed sorta queer ’cause they’d all been so gay. Sis told me that I’d feel just like that some day; Graduation sure gets you!” that’s what they all say— Honest they does!

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CLASS OF JANUARY, 1932 25 note. Thrilled with the fireplace but otherwise disappointed, I then walked into the room on the right. It was larger than the first but built exactly the same with its fireplace directly across from the doorway, as in the other. Here, however, were huge, built-in corner cupboards, which led me to believe that this room had been the dining room. I hastened to investigate these cupboards, but imagine my chagrin when instead of ancient blue and white willow ware, my eyes fell upon some tin cups and a pan or two lying on the shelves. My heart gave an uncomfortable flop. It wasn’t that the tin cups and pans were such an unbearable disappointment, but they were new! Not perfectly new, but, at least not one hundred years old ! Had someone been in the house recently? I glanced about uncertainly at the shadowy emptiness, then hurried on to what I knew to be the kitchen by the stone floor and unusually large fireplace. The kitchen, too, was bare, and the doors and windows boarded up. I saw that there was a back stairway, but I hesitated to go up the dark, dank passage, for fear was gnawing at my heart. I turned back towards the hall but now my steps were lagging and cautious. You know,” I reminded myself tardily, it was never considered polite to meddle with another’s property.” But my collector’s instinct was stronger even than my fears; I couldn’t resist that circular staircase. It won’t hurt to take one peep at the second floor,” I argued. And anyhow, I’m not doing anything wrong. I intend to pay for anything I find.” I set one foot dubiously upon the stairs. If I felt that unseen eyes were watching me, it was only imagination. Every step creaked as I went upwards, and every moment I expected a face to appear out of a doorway. Yet I surprised myself by staying long enough to see that nothing of value was there. Then, just as I was about to retrace my steps down the stairs, I heard a noise. At first, I thought it came from the doleful attic overhead; t?hen I knew that I was mistaken, and that it was the rattle of the pans I had seen in the room below—should I go down and apologize for intruding? Should I sneak quietly out or remain where I was? What to do? I decided to resort to the second method and clung close to the wall as I crept down the steps. As I reached the bend of the stairs, I glimpsed a rough looking man in working clothes go out the door and down the path. My heart was thumping like a drum when I reached the bottom of the steps. If he should turn suddenly, he might still see me, so I hurried into the dining room to wait till he was out of sight and to view, if possible, his course from the window beside the fireplace. He was walking slowly and seemed to be enveloped in deep thought. He had gone to the spring, from which he was now drinking with the tin cup which he had produced from the cupboard. What should I do? I could not escape by the back door which was boarded up. Determining to face him bravely, I clinched my hands by my side and stood my post. I could hear footsteps now; and while I waited, a thousand thoughts flash-