Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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9 O. J. FREW, The Florist, State St. Local Phone 281 Yale men steps out in front of him, puts up his right hand, and cries, “Stop,” and the runner lays the ball tenderly upon the ground. My excitement cools and and I sink back into my chair disgusted. The teams line up again and the ball is passed but, instead of charging one another as in the old way, the players shake hands and brush the dirt off each other’s white shirts. What! this is going to be a forward ipass! I sit up and begin to take notice. The Harvard end is about to catch the ball when a Yale man cries “Pas6.” The iplayer drops his arms and the ball falls upon tbe ground. Thus the game goes on until a shrill whistle blows which signifies that it is over. I rise to go when the entire audience begins to crowd toward the judges’ box. Butch informs me that they are after the decision. I rise up in indignation. “What has the game come to?” I cry, and wave my arms at Butch. There is a crash and I pick myself from the office floor. The chair, unable to stand the strain, had tipped over and I rubbed my eyes, looking around, and thanking my lucky stars that it was only a dream. GEORGE BROWN, ’14. A HUNTER’S DREAM. The shades of night were fast falling upon the wild and desolate scenery of that wonderful little hamlet known as Conneaut. It had been a cold and bleak December day and every one who had to be out of doors was glad when evening came and gave him an opportunity of getting on the outside of a hot supper and a couple of hours beside the evening fire. So it was with a Senior, who had just arrived home from a very trying and unsuccessful hunt after that savage beast, “the cotton tail.” No sooner had he stepped over the family threshold, than his mother saw his tired and hungry look and immediately proceeded to look after his welfare. While he was hastily stowing away a meal (man’s size) his mother was collecting some of her most comfortable of comforts, the Senior’s bath robe and a tub of scalding water. The Senior knew what was coming. Ever since he could remember, his mother had been up to the same performances when he came in all fagged out and with wet feet. So it was nothing new' to him when she called a little later saying that the water was rea y. There was no use starting a kick because that had been tried before. Many years past he hoped for the day when he w'ould w'ear long trousers. He thought then he would be nearly a man and his mother would not pay so much attention to his health but his wash had not come true, and even now, when signs of a mustache w'ere sprouting forth, it was the same old story. We next see our hunter friend bundled up in comforts and bath robe, his feet submerged in the water and making wry faces after trying to swallow some of Mrs. Pinkha'm’s latest compound. He had hoped that his mother wmuld forget the dope stunt, but he knew that there would be as much danger of her forgetting it as there wmuld be of her forgetting to say her prayers at night. So with many protests he had to yield to the inevitable. As he sat there he began to go over the events of the day. Finally through the swiftly moving clouds Morpheim descends and pouring his mys-

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8 THE TATTLER soon as I reached the street I noticed the change. Instead of my customary street car a large airship whirled by. I silently waited and presently another appeared. I climbed aboard and tendered my fare to the brass buttoned conductor who met me at the entrance. I arrived home exactly three minutes from the time I started which was a little unusual as it generally took me an hour to make the trip. Throwing a few necessary articles into a suitcase I started for the station, arriving via the same route by which I had arrived home. Walking up to the window I asked for a round trip ticket to Mew Haven. Here I was destined to receive my second surprise. The agent stared at me in blank amazement and finally asked me where I had been the last fifty years. I mumbled something about not having all day and he produced a ticket, and, as he handed it to me I heard him say that the name of the city had changed but I did not quite catch the name. The train whistled in and presently I found myself leaning back in one of the richly upholstered seats with which the car was furnished. T did not remember having ridden at the rate this train was making, and when the conductor came through I enquired the speed. He replied that we were making 150 miles per hour and that we would probably touch 175 to make up the 48 minutes we were late. Three hours later I dropped off the train in New Haven. It brought to my mind the first time I had been there when I entered the old school in my freshman year. I walked briskly up to the school and cut across the campus to the gymnasium where I met the coaoh who informed me tha-I had just twenty minutes to reach the stadium and invited me to walk ovet with him, which I did. He showed me where the judges’ box was locate ! and I quickly made my way there, picking out a good seat from which I could see the entire field. I settled back to take a look around the ground to see if I could recognize any of my old friends. I turned to the man occupying the seat at my right hand and recognized my old friend Butch Henessee, fullback on the same team on which I had held down right end. He recognized me almost at the same time and gave me a hearty hand shake. I looked out upon the field once more and then it dawned upon me that this did not look like the old field upon which I had played so many hard fought games. I did not have time to look around any more as the band began to play and the teams marched out of the dressing room. Such a display! Both teams wore white shirts and collars combined with the old style moleskins, which fact puzzled me, but I let it go and continued my survey. The Yale men wore a wide blue ribbon tied about their arms, while the Harvard wore red. This, I suppose, was to distinguish one from the other. Each man’s hair was neatly combed and, instead or having signal practice before the game they walked around talking with one another as if they were at a pink tea. The game is finally called and the Yale captain brings out a ball with a large pink ribbon tied about it and a dainty white cloth to place the ball on when it is kicked off. The kick off is accomplished and the ball rolls slowly down the field to be picked up by a Harvard man who begins to charge up the field. I rise out of my seat; surely this is the old game. “Go to it old man, hit ’em hard,” I cry, getting excited, then one of the

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10 THE TATTLER tic vapors into the countenance of the Senior, speedily lures him into dreamland. Visions of Senior parties and blueblood maidens flit before his brain. At length he takes the form of a forest hunter, clad in skins and running beside his faithful hound Nebuchadnezzar. Numerous tracks of lions, elephants and sparrows are seen on the landscape but the hunter looks at these in scorn and, whistling to his dog, bounds onward. He is after larger game. At length Nebuchadnezzar disappears into a thicket and, huntsman like, the hunter 'prepares for action. The approach of game is heard. He sees his victim, takes a quick, but deadly aim, and fires. As Nebuchadnezzar rushes forth from the thicket with one ear missing he is suddenly changed into a terrible red and black demon, which dashes forward bent on mischief of some sort to the mighty hunter. The Senior trembling with fear thinks his last day on earth is at hand and remembering all the wrongs he ever did in his life thinks this is the summons of his final reckoning. He must try to escape, so he beats a hasty retreat in the direction in which he came. The demon is coming behing at a break neck pace. There has to be some means of escape. The demon is nearly up with him. Suddenly as he comes to the edge of a steep cliff a bottomless lake looms up below which he never knew existed. He cannot turn back now for the demon is near at hand! He is up with him! All hope is gone! He jumps for his life! A loud splash is heard, a yell, and Blanchard has fallen forward into the tub of water. CHASE BROWN, '13. GIFTS FROM THE FACULTY. (?) Mr. Henry will distribute gum in all his classes, Monday, Wednesda and Friday of each week. (“Yucatan” or “Blackjack”). Mr. Helman offers fifty dollars reward for information as to who stole the examination papers. Mrs. Howard will give aprons to all girls who forget to bring clean ones. Miss Burrington and Miss Leet offer two dollars per day for good farm hands next summer. Mr. Smith will give sweater coats to all players who succeed in getting twenty baskets each game. Miss Kahler will give each Senior a “medal” with the word excellent on it. Mr. Davis is going to give his penmanship class fountain pens. (Some time next week). Miss Ford will present her history classes gold leaf note books on her wedding day. Miss Bain is making Mr. Helman a leather cigar case, and also a beautiful painting for his new home. Mr. Wilson has already under construction a large wagon to be used on the Burrington and Leet farm, west of the city. (The farmers are coming to town). Miss Hodge will excuse each student in each of her classes, who remains after school for eight weeks.