Butler High School - Tropaeum Yearbook (Butler, IN)

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could catch sight of him. “WhozatY” asked Sal. “Some man” and Troas shrieked, “Why Sal it's you” and Sal it was, now a famous African hunter. A train now came into view as the jungle scene vanished, stopped, and we saw a girl whom we immediately recognized as Troas, laughing heartily at some cartoons. She gave a sudden start, and next we see her entering a studio occupied by two famous cartoonists—who are no other than Loren Steckly and Virgil Hathaway. Troas, it seems, had seen their names on some cartoons, and had immediately looked them up. The shadow faded, leaving the three mer- rily discussing old times. We are now shown a busy harbor, evidently that of San Francisco. From the crowd is seen a stout lady, accompanied by her equally thin husband, bound for a foreign port as missionaries. I gasped, and Hennrietta interposed that it was Ruth and Jack Moore, on their way to India. Just as they reached the gang-plank the picture faded, and— We see a homey little cottage in a small town. There presides our old classmate, Deborah Showalter, happily married to a man none of us knew. Another home appears, this time a big ranch house, and as we gazed, a horse ridden by a slim, girlish figure rode up to the door. “Looks like Doro- thy, only it’s too thin for her,” someone whispered, but it was Dorothy, now Mrs. Learned, who had indeed gotten much thinner, due to her life in the open with her husband who is a famous stock raiser. A busy station was the next scene shown, in it was a telegraph operator, who was receiving a message from a well-dressed athletic looking lady, who proved to be Marge, on her way to coach athletics in a small school near Bos- ton, where the cream of the country’s girls are sent for final training, before leaving for France to participate in the Olympic games there. She gazed at the operator, then gasped—and recognized Fred Tomlinson. A busy street was shown as they faded from the crystal surface, and down it came an ambulance, we followed it, and at the hospital the patient was taken into the Receiving Ward. He had been the victim of an automobile ac- cident, and was so swathed in bandages, that we had difficulty in recognizing Earl Mullett. “You always were a careless driver, Earl.” Dorothy remark- ed, and just then a -white robed nurse hovered into sight. “That pug-nose looks familiar,” Deborah noticed, and as she turned around we had recognized Sarah Wright. But howT different from the old Sarah, once a wild madcap girl, turned into this white-robed figure of Mercy. Too good to be true, but the crystal never lies. Now we see a magnificent theatre, an opera is in progress. From out the handsome velvet curtain steps a figure we recognize as Naomi. Another star in

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CLASS PROPHECY It was with a shock that the realization came that this might be our last meeting as we are now, “The Jolly Class of Twenty Two. In a short time we would he scattered through the numerous Walks of Life, and we were all cur- ious to know the path into which our footsteps would wander. Now I had al- ways been interested in the occult and future gazing, and believed myself rather capable of telling fortunes. So we gazed into my magic crystal, and here is what gradually cleared for our wondering and astonished gaze to look upon. “I don’t believe in that kind of thing,” Marge said, just as the first figures could be distinguished. A tall building, and yes, there it was, “Miss Jennings Private School for Girls.” “Oh, I know that place, it’s near Columbus,” Lorna interjected, “but that’s not the name of it—” “Keep quiet a minute, cantcha?” Earl muttered. Slowly the vague outlines grew brighter and bright- er, there on the ground was a group of girls our own age, talking earnest to a kind, middle aged lady. They hung on every word she uttered—yes, as the picture grew clearer and clearer, we recognized our old pal Doris. “That’s all bunk,” Sarah shrilled, and even as she spoke the picture faded, and another one took it’s place. It was luxurious beyond description, the suburban home of a wealthy man, and on the spacious lawn two children frolicked, suddenly they spy their father coming up the walk, and they run to greet him. His gait looked familiar. “Who do you suppose it is?” we whispered to on another— and “For Gosh sakes, it’s you Anthony,” I)oc laughed. And Gerald it was, now a dignified business man. At the door he was met by his charming wife, no other than Dortha Aldrich, our old classmate. “A-w-w-w,” Gerald began —but another picture came to view. This time a busy office. A man that looked strangely familiar was bend- ing over some account books. He raised his head, and there was “Doc” Shu- maker, a little older and careworn, but for all that a successful C. P. A. By this time were all too interested to speak, and as “Doc” faded into the back- ground a tent was shown. Everything was gay with banners, and in the foreground was a band that was playing merrily. A man steps forward, then the curtains part and a giant and an acrobat step forth. “That’s you, Clark,” Fred grinned, and sure enough there was Clark Platt and Hennrietta Packer. But it was time for their act, and they withdrew to leave the scene to the jungles of Africa. A hunting trip was in progrss, and evidently the game was sighted, be- cause excited blacks and several whites were hurrying forward—out of the brush steps a tall, well built man dragging the carcas of a lion. He was immedi- ately surrounded by his admiring men, and it was full five minutes before we

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th|o cast was Elenora Kuss. Both now famous for the voices which always charmed us. The scene rapidly changed to California, a moving picture studio. The di- rector, a tall slender woman, was talking to the star, in spite of the grease paint we recognized Lorna Johnson, and the director was none other than Ruth Eak- right. On the set was another familiar figure, who proved to be Rebah Woods. L “You’re next, Bessie,’’ Rebah said as she faded from view, and we saw her as a happy wife and mother in a town in Pennsylvania. Her husband was not in sight, but we judged him to be a school-teacher. “Now all of our futures but your has been revealed, Brownie” Sal said, but my crystal is too faithful a servant to reveal that, so- Our future gazing was ended, and we resumed our other pastimes, but in our minds, remained the sight we had seen, and a vague wondering if—but who knows—“Tell me Little Gypsy What the Future Holds For Us.” Louise Brown. '•St-