Erskine College - Arrow Yearbook (Due West, SC)

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--f:.4,'5: 4,5 H Y mm' ...ik ' I- gg, fit Vw: 2.551 1'r'-:nh - f' N K V - V V ,VY. .,.........,..,.... fa.. .,., aa.: fi f , ,i,. .,.. ,, , - What train will you leave on in the morning?,' I leave on the first one, he saidg. . that is, the first one that has box cars. As I watched him disappear I knew it was best that I did not let him know my identity. I felt that the world was indeed a sad place. Hearing the sounds of music I pushed on. It was a hymn that the Salvation Army was singing that night, so I pressed close to the crowd. As the sounds of the music died away the leader's voice arose, telling of the strait and narrow path from which so many had slipped. Then another of the band stepped forward, and an- nounced that Brother Hood would sing. Soon the streets were filled with the strains of an old Psalm. I knew then that it was .I. L. Hood. It was nearly midnight, so I put up my cart and walked on slowly. I thought perhaps that Hill had decided to leave on a night train and so I am- bled down by the freight yards. A freight stood there, attempting to get started. A man in overalls was frantically instructing the engineer to start, by waving a lantern. I went nearer the fiagman and started up a conversa- tion. 6'Stranger, I said, what seems to be the troublen? '4The trouble, he said, 'fis that the engineer is no good. He couldnlt get a barrel started down hill. He couldn't back a baby carriage. He couldn't stop a two-year-old. Furthermore, he couldn't run the Due West train. Something in the way he wiggled his ears up and down as he talken told me that this man was J. A. Kennedy. I walked up the track to where the engine stood panting. In the cab I saw the engineer. Apparently he had given up hope of starting the train. One long limb dangled gracefully from the window. The other rested on the throt- tle. Between puffs on a corn cob pipe he seemed to be explaining the situa- tion to the fireman. The engine won't run, he said. '4The fireman back there is mad because no one will play checkers with him. Whenever we have forty miles to run in thirty minutes, he gets lost in the coal box or is out picking blackberricsf' Because of his delicate complexion, I knew the engineer was W. B. Scoggins. Back towards the city I walked, thinking, thinking, thinking. It was near- ly morning and I was hungry. I noticed a sign as I passed, EAT THEM WHILE THEY ARE HOT, so stepped inside. There were a few tables in the restaurant and a 'window in the rear to give orders to the cook. The pro- prietor seemed to be the only one in at this time. May I have a cup of co- fee? I asked. I will do what I can, he replied. Majestically he stepped to the window and called the order. Quickly he turned and dashed into the kitchen. A glimpse through the window convinced me that he was acting also

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, ...- ---., . , . t - -...yn . .,,::,, ,v,m,,r-W: my 4.----,..... 7 'f.'f'1- H K. - ' . - . ...W . , -M .. , ...i.. ., ...4.. i . 21219 YKCP N A 'ii'23' V i t' '1 1 WW: 1Jf T5?'Xi,' '- f5 t'Yii3'? 'ZYkff 'i32 .. 'H'H' WJIQFX, at -EY1'?i:iS-'-fffli ' 2.13.-fl 0Z9 Qtf! jj1'-N1 'ff y .i.g5-.lgxgmgggi g in the capacity of a cook. While drinking my coffee I critically examined the man. Where had I seen that yellow mop of hair, that smooth-shaven face? A sickening feeling arose within me. Here was another of the old class, R. O. Nelson. Boss, he said, it's a hard old world, ain't it? Yes,i' I said, as I went out, 'fit's a pretty hard old world. Further up the street I went in a butcher shop to get some scraps of meat to take home. A big fellow eyed me sleepily and asked my wants. While he collected the meat he said, Down in South Carolina I used to think it was a hardship to milk the cow. Now I have to go out, steal a cow, kill her skin her, cut her up, and sell her. He pulled out a black cigar. But whfin I get hold of one of these things I enjoy life. I am thinking of selling out my shop and going to drive a milk wagonf, Who would have thought that Brownlee Stevenson would have come to that? There was a sound of a bell ringing. In a few seconds I realized that breakfast was on at Erskine. All this had been a dream. Each man in the class has his future in his own hands. It is for him to build the castles of which he dreams, or see them blasted. Our future is with us. What will we make of it? V M. G. B.