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

Page 11 text:

Bumble-bee Fighting UMBLE-BEE fighting is a rather fascinating sport for any one who likes a game full of activity and excitement. In most contests there are to be found opponents, but I never took part in any contest before in which the opponent took such an active part and could be in so many places at the same time as the bumble-bee. I was working for my father one summer on an oil well, which was situated in a pasture on the outskirts of a town. The pasture had not been used for some time and the grass had grown very long, making a fine place for the field bees to nest. I soon made the acquaintance of two boys, who came over to the well frequently, and on one of these visits 1 was invited to participate in a bee fight. Now I did not know very much about bee fighting, so I stood off and let my friends start the attack, which they did very cleverly, without even so much as a sting. The way of proceeding was this: As soon as the nest was located, one of the boys would approach cautiously, taking as weapons two broad paddles made from shingles. Now the object was to stand beside the nest and catch the bees between the shingles as they came out, thus in a short time killing all the bees, which was an easy job, if not discovered by the bees. Once in a while the fighter would be discovered just as he was getting ready, and of course he would be put to flight. As he ran he would skillfully turn off his pursuers by throwing his large straw hat to one side and by changing his course at the same time, for the bees would take after the hat. Of course this looked very easy to me, so I promptly told the boys I should like to lead the next attack. We were not long in finding another nest, so I gripped the paddles, which were pretty well stained by this time, and cautiously approached the stronghold of the enemy. The buzzing of the angry bees disconcerted me for a moment, but I followed directions and bravely prepared for the first attack. I got along nicely, killing bee after bee, until I turned to see how my companions were progressing, when suddenly a bee slipped past me and got away. While 1 was madly striking at him, his mates soon came to his rescue and I beat a hasty retreat. I threw my hat, waved my arms, ran in a circle, but I soon saw they were not to be shaken off, so I made for the creek. 1 jumped in and remained under as long as I could, then I rose and splashed, caus- ing such commotion that the bees soon left me to count the number of bumps and to plan the next attack. Walter Brant, ' 06. Eng. VII.

Page 10 text:

® Often, in the warm summer nights, the princess sat on the balcony overlooking the palace gardens, weeping and murmuring to herself, and we gleaned that she was betrothed to a mighty noble, whom she hated. Had 1 not known love myself, I should have thought her very wicked for hating the man of her father ' s choice, for Japanese maidens, as all should, humbly do their father ' s bidding. But I heard, some- times, words of another, for whom she had waited long, and who would rescue her. As she moaned faintly, fearing lest he should not come, my heart well nigh broke for pitying her. How well do I remember one night, of which 1 shall tell you. It was late and the moon had sunk low in the west, and still the maiden sat alone. The summer wind bore strange sweet fragrance of unknown flowers from the garden, whence came faintly the soft music of fountains. As the little grieving princess sat far back in the shadows, the soft notes of a Japanese love song floated up, mingling with the falling of the waters. She started, then I fell to the ground and saw not the scene which followed, but I heard whispered words, and one voice was the deep, tender voice of a man. I know she fled with him, which brought to her, and to her father, and to her kinsmen great reproach, for in the memory of old men such a thing had never yet been done by a Japanese maiden. I have belonged to many, since that night. Tales could I tell of love and of hate, of sacrifice and of treachery. Many times have I cried aloud to save one from cruel betrayal, or death, but my language was not his language, and he went blindly on. I have seen much that is good, and much that is evil; hope and despair ; the rise of men and their downfall, and through it all 1 daily thank the god of inanimate things that I am but the picture of a man ordained to dwell forever on a fan. Ramona Bookwalter, 06. Eng. VII.

Page 12 text:

@ A Fall w HAT notable person is this drawing near, Whose haughty demeanor inspires one with fear? Who, to his inferiors will not unbend — Ah, no — ' tis beneath him to so condescend. ong ribbon streamers afloat in the breeze, roclaim him a mighty 8A, if you please, proud, conscious subject of all the schog, d truthfully speaking A-eock — who is this meek, humble child we o really shudders whene ' er one draws near whom every teacher ' s an ogre to dread, And who can ' t distinguish his feet from his he woe-begone look and his actions so nervo show him to be a 9B, at your ■service. His stammering questions when seeking your aid, Inspire you to pity, he seems so afraid. As he thanks you and raises his eyes from the floor, You start, for surely you ' ve seen him before. Ah ! The haughty 8A with this meek face and form, Then, a beautiful butterfly, but now — a worm. Katherine Elizabeth Bauer, ' 07. Eng. VII.