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

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was off his seat in a second, and opening another blade of his knife, put on his glasses and proceeded to go after the offending sliver. The said sliver had succeeded in locating itself in the thick of the flesh at the base of the thumb and there resisted all attempts at removal. After much exertion on the part of the surgeon and many curses on the part of the patient, the former succeeded in at last getting the end of the sliver between his thumbnail and the point of the knife-blade. With an exultant professional air he proceeded to withdraw the cause of the trouble, but shouts of derision and laughter accompanied his surprise as the sliver proved to be a broom-straw at least seven inches in length. It was an old trick. The thick skin of the thumb had simply been raised with a needle and the straw inserted from behind and concealed beneath the sleeve. The oracle stood disconcerted until n old man Phipps n happened to mention that it was April first, whereupon he passed silently out of the store with all the dignity of his self-acquired profession. CARL BROWNE An Ideal School N THE summit of a rising knoll, which has been laughingly called the Hill of Science, there stands at the present day a small, red, frame school-house with the whitest of shutters and with surroundings such as Nature alone is able to produce. Let us notice for a moment a few of the many beauties that may be seen at a glance from the windows. Here at one side is a copse of fir, where, even now, the merry song of the thrush, as she busily lines her nest, is heard mingling with the noisy scoldings of the jay not far away. Farther on, the copse grows thicker and thicker until, at length, it serves as a shelter for sheep. From the opposite window, an apple orchard, the trees gnarled and twisted with age, stretches away until it meets, at the back of the school-house, the edge of a deep ravine overlooking a fertile, rolling valley. A clear, mountain stream winds through the orchard to the gorge where it rushes on pell-mell, pausing at the bottom just long enough to form a delightful swimming hole. Here, away from factory smoke and the hurly-burly of city life, with nothing to disturb them but the singing of the birds, the gurgling of the brook or the distant lowing of grazing cattle, are gathered together some forty or fifty rosy-cheeked lassies and tall sun-burned lads, as fresh and simple in their dress and manner of living as their surroundings would indicate. Every morning, with faces bright and shining, they walk to school, sometimes three or four miles, carrying their books in a large calico bag which is stretched to its utmost wherever there is a slate or geography. An intelligent young woman, who reigns as queen of this dominion, calls the school to order with a short Testa- ment reading. Hardly has she finished before several bright little youngsters ask permission to go outside and study. Great is my astonishment, however, when the teacher, with a pleasant smile, grants their request, for who could imagine such privileges in a modern school ? Once outside, they scatter, some to the shade of a group of firs, others to the rocks in the ravines. There in intimate companionship with the birds and wild flowers, the rocks, pastures and trees, they learn their geog- raphy, solve intricate problems and con their English reader. Thus they are taught, day after day, with all their glorious out-of-door opportunities. This, to me, is a most ideal school, and transcends all modern improvements which the city can afford. LOUISE SHERMAN C, the letter, for Chemistry stands. Be careful in mixing your acids though For if you don ' t, you may give us a chance To shed at your funeral H20.

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A Toast ERE ' S success to ycu, Mr. McComb, In the year of nineteen four, May you teach us Themes with a helping hand Even more than ever before. Teach us about Dame Nature, The birds, the grass and bees, Tell us about the little brook That wound beneath the trees. Why has that stream stopped winding Beneath the trees and hedge, But silently goes its little way ' Neath the Union Station ' s sheds? Oh ! tell us why its color Has changed from white to brown, It used to be so clear and bright Before the coal struck town. Another thing we wish to know, Pray tell us in words complete, Why cars have just four -sided wheels On North Alabama Street Still another question puzzles us, The answer we ' ve never found, Why, when we ' have no gas at all They send the bills around. Now last of all, this question — How do you succeed to munch The dreadful deathlike contents Of an old, stale Taggart lunch ? Again I say— here ' s success to you In the year of nineteen four, May all of us profit by your work Even more than ever before. STANLEY TURNER An Old Trick IT WAS the first day of April and it was, as the group of habitues of Anglemire ' s grocery and general store observed, a rather bad day out. It was cold and disagreeable, so disagreeable, in fact, that one of the village oracles wondered why Abe Sanders, across the street, should be saw- ing hemlock wood in such bad weather. As no one could give a plausible reason for Abe ' s unwonted display of energy, the oracle resumed his occupation of carving odd designs in the cracker barrel on which he was seated. This ancient wiseacre was, in the eyes and admiration of the village youth, something of an expert in the line of handling a knife and was, in a way, regarded by himself and others as the village surgeon. He possessed a local reputation as a veterinary, having at one time visited an institution of that character at Cincinnati. As a result, he honestly considered it his duty to give advice and services on all ailments, from croup and stone-bruises to lockjaw and general debility. The blacksmith and Crozier ' s hired man had nearly finished a game of checkers and the Ginder boy was just getting the ring off the latest puzzle, when Abe Sanders hurriedly entered the store, holding his left hand tightly in his right and showing evidence of great pain. Upon the storekeeper ' s inquiry as to what was the matter, Abe exclaimed, Get hold of that sliver if you can, at the same time holding out his hand. The would-be surgeon, leaving his unfinished design, B is the letter that stands for fame Whenever attached to Bohny ' s name ; In Basketball a winner was he In Baseball, too, he is sure to be.

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A Tropical Storm FEW PEOPLE can imagine how quickly a tropical Storm may come, nor do they comprehend with what force it is occasioned. The ordinary storms of this section of the country are as but the report of a rifle to that of a cannon in comparison. It was my good luck to be able to witness one of these terrible storms from the deck of a steamer en route from Tampa to Havana. About five in the afternoon, just as we had sighted Key West, fifteen miles away, the steward, a very small personage with a regular Kaiser mustache, his coat bedecked with brass buttons, and his cap pulled well down over his slick hair, came on deck, sniffed the air for a moment, pulled his mustache, and said in a very high pitched voice, n Hm, smells a good deal like a storm. Then he turned to a passenger, and began a tale of shipwreck and drowning, which soon interested all those on that part of the deck. He told a second tale, and a third, but the fourth was cut short in the beginning by a terrific clap of thunder, and a swish of wind blew the first drops of rain upon the listeners. The slorm had begun. No one had seen the small cloud over the starboard side. Instantly the sea was in a fury. The crests of the waves were cut off by the wind as if by a knife. Soon the deck was drenched with water so that those on deck were compelled to seek shelter in the cabin ; indeed it was well they did so, for the ship was rolled and tossed like a cork, putting one standing on deck in great danger of being washed overboard. We were aided by one fact, however. The captain was an old timer and he realized the utter folly of attempting to cross the bar after dark in the storm. He very wisely stayed well out in deep water, keeping his bearings by the flickering light at the harbor entrance. The storm abated about twelve, but the sea was still too rough to even think of crossing the bar, and it was not till six in the morning that the ship was finally steered over to safety. Many of the passengers went to bed that night, trusting in the captain, the crew and the ship. Others huddled in the cabin, dressed, expecting every moment to see the ship go to pieces, and ready to jump to the life boats, which would have been swamped almost instantly had they done so. Their fears were set at rest in the morning and all went on deck again, among them the terrified steward, very white, with all the curl gone from his mustache. His fourth tale was told. LAWRENCE HITT ' 56oop y j . l SHIW ' THL ' kHMN D is for failure Which to evade we try, For it means a calling down FromC. E. and— Oh My!