Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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JUNE CLASS, 1900 THIRTY-FOUR COUPLETS FOR TWENTY-FOUR CHARACTERS As 1 sit here In the coming night I hear a voice both gay and bright. ' Tis the voice of memory calling me Back to the days that used to be. Just twenty years ago our Class Was graduated from the M. T. S. I see them all as they were the day We left our school for life ' s drear way. And now I dream thro ' many places And see again the dear old faces. Fred Hohn now sits in the Nation ' s chair, Well loved by our States, so wide and fair. Our Eunice Johnson, kind and true, Now wears a nurse ' s gown of blue. And Walter, poor boy, he didn ' t live long. For he was the shortest of all the throng, Prof. Lorenz Schmidt, in old Deutschland, With stately mien, so grave and grand, Tells how in his last great theory. The world, without women, would better be ! Miss Mabel Walters is widely renowned. For magazines now with her poems abound. The Reverend Chas. G. Stone, D. D., Is the worthy divine of Trinity. Miss Mary Conner still teaches a school, Trust not mankind is yet her rule ; And now she lives with Nora Scherring— They vow they ' ll never think of marrying.

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THE CHAMELEONS Rap! Rap! Rap! It was about ten o ' clock one summer evening, when we were startled by this quick summons at the front-room door. Bessie, go and see who is there, said Mrs. Thorpe. Bessie slowly got out of har chair and rather unwillingly obeyed her mother. She was only a little girl, timid, shy, and by instinct afraid of the dark. Presently we heard her say, you can ' t come in, I won ' t let you in, and in a deep, gruff voice, the reply, I tell you, you ' ve got to let me in. It ' s for the boarder here and it ' s alive, and I want to give it to her. The boarder? Why that meant me. What could come for me at that time of night ? My feminine curiosity was so aroused that 1 took the messenger ' s part and gladly rescued him from Bessie ' s clutches. As soon as he had come in, he handed me a large pasteboard box. On its cover was a label with the grewsome picture of an alligator stamped upon it. The box had been left at the village express office that evening, and the authorities there had become so uneasy about its contents that they sent it up to me immediately after Its arrival. It had taken the messenger boy tv o hours to deliver the package, for he had come by boat, up the stormy little lake, and had been in fear and trembling all the time. His terror communicated itself to me. My hands trembled with fear as I slowly unfastened the cover. Everyone In the room was gazing anxiously at me, their curiosity overpowering their fear. A sudden jerk at the lid, and, like Pandora ' s box, the contents escaped. The women found refuge on chairs, Bessie retreated, screaming at the top of her voice, and the messenger boy sidled towards the hall way. 1 was left alone, with the almost empty box in my hand. All that remained in it was a chameleon — the dearest little green thing imaginable, with its impertinent head cocked on one side, and its bright little eyes peering out In the most inquisitive manner. We had a great laugh over our alligator scare, and then we began to search for the missing chameleons. We shook the curtains, turned tables and chairs upside down, crawled under the piano, shook out the rugs, and even turned the pictures, but not a trace of the little runaways did we find. Finally they were given up for lost and we prepared to retire, Mrs. Thorpe ' s good-night message to her daughter, being, Bessie, don ' t sleep with your mouth open to-night. The next morning found the little rascals holding an indignation meeting on the green piano cover, their little tongues lolling out of their mouths, anxiously awaiting their feast of flies. Millie H. Loefer, June, 1900.

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At Nora ' s home for cats and dogs She ' s a pond for aged fish and frogs. In New York City resides Dr. Cline, For diseases of love he ' s a remedy fine. iVlrs. Lillian Ryan ' s in Europe now, Holding her dignity up, I trow. While Mr. and Mr. Charles Vance Smith Are making a tour of the world in a skiff. William R. Scott ' s the happiest man Of all the merry and happy clan ; He has a house and a farm of his own, A little wife and a telephone. Another Modjeska rules the stage — Our beautiful Josephine — quite the rage. The great John Messick, Supreme Court Judge, Is as fond as ever of home-made fudge. And little Kate Fuller, the one with glasses, Sells candy made of sorghum molasses. James Madison — not he the great — Has met a terrible, terrible fate ; Remember how he used to frown ? That scowl forever his face shall crown. Now there ' s the widow, pretty Ruth Hann, She ' s looking now for another man. And Harry Wood, philosopher wise, Yet uses words of monstrous size. And Roy Adams, of our collect. Is now a famous architect. And Bessie V., a dark-eyed beauty, Has signed, I hear, a life-time treaty. Our Anna Gill ' s made one man glad But many another lonely and sad, For she, always, with soul so pure, Did all, unknowingly, allure. And Wendell White, a theolog kind. Was ever of a sober mind. 1 see no more in my dream tonight ; The rest has faded from my sight. I sit here in my own home-hall And the deepening shades softly fall. Grace Thompson, 1900.