Girls High School - Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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'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,

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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

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The Spirit of 191 7 Alumni Prize Essay Isabel K. Strawbridge N the seventh of April, 1917, the United States declared war on Germany. The Stars and Stripes waved from every window. Patriotism was at flood-tide. Everywhere men were leaving their own affairs and enlisting to serve their country. The same spirit was mani- fested by old and young: to put down the Kaiser, cost what it might of blood and treasure. Following this declaration of war, the nation set forth a loud call for volunteers. The call was quickly responded to, and training camps were soon Glled with men, willing to give their lives for a noble and just cause. Also the National Guardsmen, who had been in training on the Mexican border, were speedily equipped and sent across to join the Allied troops. Then came the selective draft. All men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one years were called to aid their country, and, after a few months' training, transport after transport filled with American troops sailed out of the Atlantic ports in the dead of night to join the forces already over seas. - And later, when the American boys had been fighting a month or two, the casualty lists came pouring in. The death toll grew larger day after day, and the American people began to realize, more than ever, that we were in a great conflict and that many sacrifices would have to be made in order to make the world again safe for democracy. And now, after four years of a terrible war, all Europe will rest in peace. The tyrant has been put down, forced to acknowledge his own defeat, and recognize the power and authority of the Allied nations. It has been a conflict for the sake of democracy. Great battles have been fought. There have been deeds of sublimest heroism and exhibitions of patriotism which shall stir the hearts of those who are to live in the coming ages. Men, who at the beginning of this war were scarcely known beyond their homes, are now numbered among those names which will never die. But as we look back over those four years and think of the numberless hardships, our boys have endured, we wonder at their marvelous spirit. Do you realize, my friends, the rough road they have traveled, sacrincing all the com- forts of home, facing the most disheartening circumstances, and, at the same time running the risk of their lives? Can you picture their life in the trenches and their struggle on the battlefield? Let us take a trip over that same road and see their spirit in its true light. We will let our imagination carry us across the briny deep, thence through the English Channel to Northern France. This country was, but five years ago, inhabited by a happy, peace-loving people. lts beautiful historical buildings were the pride of its citizens. But it is uninhabited now and everything is in ruins. Things are gone which can never be replaced. Everywhere can be seen finger prints of the destructive hand of the Hun. Now we will rnove a little south-east toward the battle front. Many miles behind the lines can be seen numberless rows of crosses and various other markers. Thousands who have made the supreme sacrihce are here sleeping under French skies. They have been laid here by their more fortunate com- rades, who vowed to take revenge for their deaths. 14