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

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Blue Top felt very sorry for her, and wished that it could help her. Presently it heard her say aloud: 1 know what I ' ll do, I ' ll burn a match and see if he loves me. Here was its chance; there was no time for fear now, and with a leap it landed at her feet. Mary Ann looked surprised, but hastily picked it up, struck it, and watched it slowly burn. The match stood erect so that its head would not fall off, for then her heart would be sad. Mary Ann watched it carefully, and just as the little Blue Top breathed its last, it heard her exclaim joyously, He loves me! Elsie Lamson, 06. Eng. VIII. ® April Skies K.UFPh jPRIL skies are bright and fair, Flecked with white clouds everywhere. Made of sadness, made of sighs, Made of gladness, April skies, May my life forever be Fresh and fair and bright as thee ! As thy tears bring flow ' rs in May To cheer, mayhap, some dreary way, May mine bring high resolve to me And nobler purpose. May I see — As after rain and storm thou art — My way more clear, more plain my part. As sunshine follows e ' er thy sighs, May gladness follow where ' er lies Sadness for me, fair April skies ! i m«§a teTftif fcr £.iutaho»i ») ' 4«lfe sayj,

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The Lone Match It ISCOURAGED and sad, a lonely match lay in its box, high up on the kitchen shelf. Its fellows had all been transferred to the match case, but in some way this one had been overlooked. For three days it had pondered how it could make its presence known, and for three nights it had vainly waited for someone to find it and use it. For it was considered a great honor to be among the first chosen in the whole box. But up in this dark corner the chances were, it would not be used at all. On the fourth evening as the match lay pondering on its sad fate, it heard Mary Ann, the cook, come into the kitchen and strike a match. The ray of light which suddenly shone through a crack in the box told it that the gas had been lighted, and its last hope was gone. With a heavy heart little Blue Top (as it had been called by the other matches) lay listening to Mary Ann ' s hurrying footsteps, and wondering which of its lucky companions she had chosen to light the gas with. Presently it began to be interested in the actions of Mary Ann, and wondered if, by standing up, it could not see what was going on in the kitchen. So Blue Top jumped up and popped its little head out of the crack, and there, right before it, was the wonderful gas light. It envied the match which had given its life to produce this beautiful thing. But suddenly its envy was turned to horror, for there on the floor, where the cook had carelessly thrown it, lay the charred head of its companion. For a minute it forgot the true mission of a match, and was glad it had been overlooked, but as Blue Top was a very worthy match, the cowardly feeling was soon overcome. It decided, however, that if it must meet such a fate, it would do something greater than merely afford Mary Ann a light to get supper by. Its attention was now turned to Mary Ann herself, who had just taken a pan of biscuits from the oven and was now turning to the meat. The clouds of steam which arose from the stove obstructed its vision a great deal of the time and it stretched its little neck until it fairly ached, trying to follow Mary Ann ' s actions. Blue Top liked her, for she could do so many funny things, and began to wish that it could do some- thing for her, something more than any other match had ever done. But what could it do ? Here it was away up in the dark corner with no possibility of ever being found, ' t was afraid to jump, and even if it did, she would only sweep it out. The match was suddenly interrupted in its reverie by a loud rap at the door. Mary Ann ' s face lit up with a bright smile, and she dropped a spoon, and almost broke a tea cup in her haste to reach the door. When she opened it Blue Top could see a tall man outside. It wondered who this could be, and what he wanted with Mary Ann. She stayed fully twenty minutes at the door, talking in so low a tone that the match could not catch a word. When she finally came back she seemed uneasy about something. She did not work nearly so vigorously as before, and presently she sat down and thought deeply. ilk ' »

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® Cat-tail Bound SOFT winds that come and go To us are calling. Bearing on gentle wings Echoes of singing. Waits the light boat for thee, Float o ' er the waves with me, Santa Lucia ! Santa Lucia ! And the night was all that the song told, as it floated down the river. There was a peaceful quiet everywhere, for it was just that hour when the world pauses between the day ' s activity and the night ' s rest. Yet there was sound, for myriads of night- voices were awakening to greet the moon. The gentle breeze that wafted the song, rippled the water and lifted the grass at our feet. The willows across the river were growing gray in the evening light and their long branches could scarcely be seen in the cool water. Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! The refrain came more faintly as the singers moved farther up the river. It recalled my companion and me from the dreamy spell of the place and hour and we remembered our purpose. We had planned to go with the party of singers to a little island to see the moon rise, but had been delayed and now we were about to follow them. In a few min- utes we were in a boat and pursuing them rapidly. Yes, we thought, we shall join them soon. My friend sat primly in one end of the boat; she could not row and almost feared to speak, while I pulled diligently. So diligently did I pull that the direction became a matter of little importance. After an especially noble effort the boat plunged far into a thick growth of cat-tails. My companion gave one shrill shriek and then said in resignation, We shall sit quietly and wait until some one comes to our rescue. We were, as it seemed, hopelessly entangled in a veritable forest of cat -tails, with a lower stratum of slimy green algae. The situation was thoroughly uncomfortable, as we knew this to be the haunt of venerable grand-daddy long legs, mosquitoes and numerous specimens for entomologists. As we sat quietly listening to the symphony of the water-bugs, the moon peeped inquisitively over the rushes at us. It looked like a Japanese print, the great round sphere of yellow with the dark silhouette of the cat- tails against it. But the beauty of the scene did not appeal to us then. This waiting was growing tiresome, both to Mrs. Grundy and myself. Something has to be done, I remarked with emphasis. Done, done, the frogs croaked sarcastically. Regard- less of Mrs. Grundy ' s direful tales, I began to struggle with the oars. Though each moment seemed to entangle us more, I was persistent. At last we were really free, out of the cat-tail forest. Slowly, patiently, I rowed toward the landing. We had seen the moon rise and we were willing to return. It was consoling to know that there would be more nights to see the moon rise. Did you speak, Mrs. Grundy, or was it a frog croaking, or only an echo ? Myrtle Johnson, ' 06. Eng. VII.