Frankfort High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Frankfort, IN)

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THE CAULDRON Donald Tankersley. “Tank’’; “Ding.” “Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.” But we have to hand it to him when it conies to skating. Its the only place “Tank” has any speed. He should have been an Englishman. Lawson Merritt. “Laws. (Orchestra; Chemistry Assistant.) “As sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair.” William Strong. “Bill.” (Latin Club.) “And when a lady’s in the case, You know all other things give place.” Twenty-Nine

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THE CAULDRON Troy Miller. “Buck.” (Glee Club “Chimes of Normany”; “Pinafore. ’) “Let the world slide. I’ll not budge an inch.” Russell Shaffer. (Basketball, ’16, 17.) “Like my subject now shall be my song; It shall be witty, and il sha’nt he long.” Leo Campbell. “John Hopkins.” (Office Assistant; Orchestra.) Matter of fact; business-like; energetic; about as stubborn as the most of us; a regular “Johnny on the spot” for being punctual. He calls his gun his best friend and duck season the best time of the year. Carlyle Stair. (Glee Club.) “A youth of excellent dumb discourse.” “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” Twenty-Eight

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Where is the man who can not remember the simple events of his childhood, abounding with innocent pleasures? Who has not lovingly treasured those memories and felt a homesick longing for a return to those primitive joys? Most everyone in Frankfort remembers old Prairie Creek, with its narrow expanse of limpid waters flowing lazily through the heart of the town, punctuated here and there by little bevies of tin cans and heaps of rubbish. I remember, when a small boy in knickers,” of wandering down its course with a wonderful paraphenalia of fishing tackle, bent upon invading ‘he dark depths of some sluggish pool, to lure the dainty sunfish from its native l.aunts beneath the rocks. While revolving in my mind these choice bits of past pleasure. I looked up from my desk in the school-room and saw the teacher in charge, slowly nodding and drowsily falling under the spell of spring fever. Outside nature was calling with all her persuasive charms; the warm sunshine bathed the scented air, and 1 felt an irresistable longing come upon me. The teacher had fallen asleep, and the door was open; I walked out and left the school without a pang of guilty conscience. I made my way straight to Prairie Creek, to the scene of my thoughts. Arriving there, 1 pursued my way down the stream, whither 1 neither knew nor cared. I had wandered down the stream farther than 1 had intended—farther than the sleepy inhabitants of Frankfort had ever troubled themselves to explore, they being content to assume that it merely flowed out an untold distance and ceased to exist. I continued down the stream for many miles until my strength began to ebb. I was about to retrace my steps when I became aware that the stream broadened out noticeably, and to my amazement found that it encircled a large island. Crossing the creek, I set foot on the virgin island, intent on exploring it. The interior was inclosed by a circle of rough foothills and craggy mountains a formidable barrier. With much trouble I crossed the mountains and entered a quiet valley, filled with a luxurious growth of poppies, deadening the air with a drowsy fragrance. Before I could retrace my steps, 1 felt a sickening sleep stealing over me and 1 fell a victim to the intoxicating influence of the poppies. How long 1 had remained under the power of the flowers, I do not know, but when I awoke, the poppies had withered and blown away. A chill wind blew across the valley, rattling the dead stems, and already the mountain tops were hooded with snow. As I drew my coat around me, to shut out the cold, to my amazement I found a bulky manuscript inside it. Upon investigation I saw that the manuscript was written in a poetic form but in a most monotonous Thirty