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

Page 13 text:

Skatini IN nearly all of the northern countries where the winters are cold enough to produce ice, one of the chief amusements that are attendant in winter ' s train is skating. Of course to know how to skate one must learn this art by means of a long, eventful process, the effects of which are for a time painfully asserted in the learner ' s mind. There are two different ways of learning the art of skating. The first is to have a helper on each side of the beginner to hold him up ; the second is for the beginner to blunder along by himself and amuse the bystanders with athletic stunts done without apparatus. Much has been said about the joys of skating, but very little about the woes of the beginner. First the victim hies himself to some sporting -goods establishment and hands out his cash, receiving in lieu thereof a pair of guaranteed steel skates and a couple of straps to bind them on more firmly. Then the aspirant for skating honors betakes himself to some ice-bound pond with his precious articles of revolution. He plumps himself down on a rock and proceeds in a mysterious manner, not mentioned in any treatise on skating, to fasten the aforesaid articles on. Generally some friend rescues him in time, fastens the skates on correctly and leaves him to his fate. First he steps out on the ice and essays to make a bold stroke, after the manner of skilled skaters, with an amazing result. His lower extremities show a sudden desire to seek higher paths, while his head becomes interested in astronomy. He sees planets and celestial bodies the astronomer never dreamed of, while the sun and moon dance a jig in the background. After the fiery exhibition clears up a little, the rebel, or revolutionist, or whatever he may be named, sits up and feels for the crack in the back of his head, whose edges he can hear grating together — in his mind. But he is disap- pointed, visibly disappointed, to find nothing like an injury except a small bump, which he informs his friends is as big as a baseball. Then he cautiously rises to his feet, or rather, his skates, and stands about watching the experienced skaters, wondering to himself if they almost broke their necks before they learned to skate. At last, tiring of this, he begins again. He tries a stroke, with immense success ; then a larger one — success again and applause from himself. Again a larger stroke — fireworks, blue rings and pink and yellow dots are much in evidence. The skater picks up his remains disgustedly and wobbles slowly to the shore, jerks off his skates and departs for his dwelling-place. There the disgruntled beginner seriously contemplates the advisability of summoning the doctor. But in a few days the temptation proves too great as he sees his comrades gliding over the pond, so he packs up his skates again and makes another pilgrimage to the scene of former defeat. This time he sees with pride that his skates are properly adjusted and he slides forth cautiously on the pond ' s frozen surface. Now he takes shorter strokes and frequently tumbles. At last on a certain day, a day which he marks in his diary with red ink, he learns to skate ; and from that time on the illumi- nations become dimmer and less frequent. Now he can blunder around the pond twice without stopping and watches with scorn the gymnastics of the new victims. Ralph Wheeler, ' 07. Eng. V.

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@ 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.

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A Tale of Old Japan BN the days of the early seventies, Old Japan was governed by the first Christian S Wj Mikado, Tori. His body-guard was the faithful band of the Samurai, led by iril tne valiant Prince Korin, strongest-of-the-strong. Migaku, gatherer-of-news, and Tacho, teller-of-who-comes-and-who-goes, were among the Samurai- Now it so happened that these three men were descendants of the body-guard of the first Mikado, one thousand years ago, and as such, deserved the unre- strained confidence placed in them by his imperial majesty, Tori. A few years after the beginning of Tori ' s reign, murmurings of revolt against the imperial government came to the knowledge of Migaku. The one remaining people of Japan who refused to adopt the Christian religion were the Kwannians. The Mikado Tori had been unjust to them, had persecuted the worship of their protectress, the beautiful Goddess Kwannon, had crushed her shrines and ruined her temples. Their love for their deity had been degraded. Revenge should come to the Kwannians, for Nagoli, their prince, had said it. Kwanni is an island scarcely an arrows flight from the nor ' .h shore of old Japan. It was evident that the inhabitants were preparing for war. Night revelries in the red bamboo forest were frequent, for so Tacho reported to his imperial majesty, Tori. Migaku discovered from a Kwanni fisherman that on the night of the next full moon Prince Nagoli and his war minister, Zakkun, would hold a review of their soldiers. A ruined shrine of the goddess Kwannon in the red bamboo forest would be the meeting place. Later in the evening Nagoli was to give the annual Feast of a Hundred Visitors in his great palace hall. Here Nagoli ' s most trusty counselors would come and they would plan for war. The Mikado Tori sent Prince Korin, leader of his faithful Samurai, to the island of Kwanni. It was his perilous task to watch the night review of Nagoli ' s soldiers and to report the plans made at the Feast of a Hundred Visitors. Korin had little difficulty in crossing over to the beautiful island. The golden sun of old Japan was sinking in the celestial heavens just as the prince reached the shore. It was the night of the review of the soldiers, and Korin passed swiftly through the red bamboo forest and hurried to the palace of Nagoli. It was fast growing dark, but the hour of the Ox, the appointed time of the review, was far removed. However, Prince Korin was not thinking of Nagoli ' s soldiers, for he had something far more important — a tryst in the Red Maple Gardens of Nagoli ' s palace. Assani, daughter of Nagoli, was a beautiful girl of eighteen summers. She was as fair as the goddess Kwannon and the daintiest maid in the Kingdom of old Japan. Korin had met the beautiful Assani at the Festival for the Foreign Embassies given by his Imperial Highness, Tori, two years previous. The two had loved from the first meeting and the pnncely Korin had since kept a tryst -every change of the moon with his princess in the Red Maple Gardens of Nagoli ' s palace. Nagoli ' s hatred of the Mikado and his Samurai alone kept them from declaring their love. And now what a trick for fate to play ! Korin, the betrothed of Assani, must spy on her people, must