Girls High School - Yearbook (Reading, PA)

Page 16 text:

The Mystic Whisk- Broom Millicent B. Rex IIEN I was last in the South, I heard a most amazing story from a young lawyer who was staying at my boarding-honse. It was one of those cold winter evenings in Georgia when one sadly misses the warmly built houses of the North and every one hovers about the open Ere. Certainly it was a strange tale. He told it as if he believed it himself, and gave the addresses of the people who had seen the events he described, but I have never taken the trouble to write to them, so I do not vouch for the truth of the narrative, but simply tell it as he told it that evening. 'tl don't expect you to believe this story, he began. lf anybody told it to me, I wouldn't believe him either. It sounds like the biggest lie you ever heard. But here it is, anyway. I was boarding with a doctor's family one winter in the little Georgia town of --. At Christmas they gave me a handsome silver whisk-broom, which I kept hanging on the wall by my dresser. As time went on, I noticed when I came home every evening that the whisk-broom seemed to have been disturbed-invariably I found it lying on the floor in front of the bureau, each day in precisely the same place. l thought maybe some one had been in the habit of using it-perhaps the maid-and gave the matter no more considera- tion outside of a slight annoyance at their carelessness in leaving it on the floor. Some time later, however, one night about one or two o'clock, I suddenly became wide awake, almost as if some one had roused me, and yet apparently from no particular cause. Presently I discovered an astonishing fact. The whisk-broom, which I distinctly remembered having hung up before I retired, was lying in its usual spot before the dresser in a little circle of strange, white light. The glow was not being cast upon the brush from any point in the room, but seemed rather to radiate from the brush itself. As I watched it, the broom rose from the floor and was drawn up into the air several feet, the halo of light moving about it. There it hung, seemingly without any support. At this point the brush began to cavort madly, then its antics settled into a slow, rhythmical dance, still hanging in the air in the weirdest manner possible. I observed all this in blank amazement for a few seconds, then suddenly sprang out of bed and touched the broom. The light went out, and the brush dropped to its accustomed place upon the floor. I picked it up, and laid it on the bureau. Then I returned to bed. The next morning at breakfast I told the doctor and his family about my experiences. I confess they had a good deal of amusement at my expense, the only thing that stood in my favor was that where the broom had come in contact with my hand a welt, or blister, had arisen, somewhat like a burn. The medical man shook his head over it. 'Never saw a burn like that before, Fletcher,' he said, and he looked at me queerly. 'But, just the same, I can't believe that Hsh story.' A , 'But I saw it,' I protested. 12

Page 15 text:

Miss Swartz Miss Stephen X, ' Miss Boyer Q af' mazrml Miss Rulh 11 ' - . ,nf Mins Eidam W , S , .,-,., , ::: 1 1 , ffd Q my rg... QQAN LQ' :ay A' an lb- ' iff AA. H 'if gf, ', ' jii'Eifzi?r1 T -- - V - Q ru ' 'fw v.4 , ' W M f ! .1LgL:ill 1f V ' ' ... 4 , V A 77 Z Z7 HHN IIWMW Miss Rhoadn v- rrn

Page 17 text:

'I'm afraid there's something the matter with you, young man,' said the doctor. 'I'll tell you what I'll dog I'll sleep with you to-night myself, and if I see it, by Jane, I'll believe it, for there's nothing wrong with me, I know.' I agreed, and so it was arranged. At about the same time as on the preceding night, I was awakened in the same peculiar way. Sure enough, there was the whisk-broom gaily prancing as before. I woke the doctor, and, much to my relief, for I was beginning to have an uneasy feeling that perhaps the trouble was with me, and not with the brush after all, he saw it also, with how much perplexity you can guess. While we were looking at it, the light went out, and the brush fell to the floor as it had previously done. It was there in the morning when we arose. The doctor at last believed my story. Together we investigated every possible place from which a practical joke could have been played upon us, and, after a long search, reluctantly gave up that idea. For a week or more, I saw the whisk-broom perform its peculiar rites every night, and each evening found it oft' its peg and lying on the rug. The news of my adventure by this time was being noised about the little town, and at length I was approached by one of the residents, though a stranger to me-a Spiritualist-who said that his wife had died in the room I was now occupying, and that he believed she was trying to communicate with him through the extraordinary manifestations of my whisk-broom-though why she should choose so ridiculous a medium as a whisk-broom is beyond my under- standing, especially since he said whisk-brooms had never had any particular significance in her life. He asked to spend the night with me to see if further demonstrations would develop, and I consented. He, too, saw the singular display, but, in spite of his presence, nothing more than usual happened. Then the professor ol: science at the college desired to get a glimpse of this 'remarkable phenomenium,l and he, too, went away battled, and so time went on. I was becoming quite used to my whisk-broom's actions after this interval, but, nevertheless, I admit they did bother me. A few months later I chanced to attend the St. Louis Exposition, and as I was passing through the midway in the midst of a crowd, a Hindoo fortune-- teller ran out from her booth, and cried for me to stay. Somewhat annoyed, I tried to pass on. 'Stop, sir! I have a message for you. I have seen your face for days. Sir, I must tell you,' she persisted. 'Comet' 'It is this, sir,' she continued, as I yielded, 'only this. You are worried about something. It is a matter connected with something you use-a toilet article-a hair-brush-No! A button hook-No! Wait-a whisk-broom- Yes! A whisk-broom. Don't let this worry you, it will come out all right at last. lt will bring you good fortune, as long as you keep it.' 'A strange thing, wasn't it?' said the young lawyer. Well, my course at the college was finished in the spring, and I left the town, carrying my whisk- broom with me. But, do you know, it never danced in the night after I left that room, and never has yet, although every time I travel anywhere, and pack that brush in the bottom of my bag, to this very day when I open the valise the whisk-broom is always lying on top, no matter how deep I pack it, or what I put over it. Otherwise the Hindoo was right, it has ceased to bother me. But I have ye to see the promised good fortune. There, I told you you wouldn't believe it, as incredulous glances passed around, and I don't wonder! ia,