Harding High School - Quiver Yearbook (Marion, OH)

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ln the Shadow of the Mountains Under the shadow of Gray's peak is the famous Stevens mine. Hundreds of feet up McClellan Mountain, with its ,iutting crags and frowning precipices, is a straggling nest of cabins fastened to the rocky front by iron bolt and bars, that af- ford protection from the avalanches of snow which sometimes precipitate themselves down the mountain side. At the door of one of these cabins stands a woman-a woman with tired, faded eyes, and a face with a haunting expression of loneliness and quiet despair. Her hair is gathered in an unbe- coming knot at the back of her head and her calico frock clings around her in ungraceful folds. Her collar, however, is clean and tidy, and a bunch of scarlet berries at her throat, strangely at variance with the rest of her belongings, tell the story of her love for the beautiful. One could not realize, could scarcely believe that a few-a very few years ago she was young and fair and graceful. Shading her eyes with one thin hand from the glow of the evening sky, she looks around from her lofty eminence, upon an inspir- ing scene. But the grandeur and sublimity of the magni- ficent panorama spread before her eyes awakens no feeling of admiration. These same hills and gulches have stared back at her for seven long, hopeless years, and, as the shadows deepen some- thing like a shudder shakes her frail form and she murmurs, 'tEver in the shadows- Lights now begin to twinkle in the cabins be- low, and the woman, seeing them, shuts her lips goes into the house. She tightly and, turning, is met by the prattle of a baby's voice, and catch- ing up her little daughter, a Winsome sprite of two years, she seats herself in a small rocker, for it is baby's bedtime. Not like a happy mother ldoes she sing a soothing lullaby to the little one, but in sad silence the hard wooden chair sways back and forth until baby is in the land of dreams. Suddenly a loud whistle startels her and hastily laying down her little one, she lights a candle and places vague it upon the table, its feeble light casting shadows around the little room. The door opens and a man of splendid physique enters. Tall, stalwart, young in years gone by he has been the type of noble manhood, but now the bloated, purplish-red cheeks, the bleared, weak eyes, mar the beauty of his face and in unmis- takable lines tell the secret of his downfall and of the woman's sorrow. In he comes with a half-defiant swagger, and without even a glance toward the baby-sleeping peacefully in its sweet innocence, changes his rough miner's suit for dry clothing, knots a gaudy handkerchief about his shapely throat and is ready for supper. While he eats in moody discontent, his wife moves about listlessly, struggling to hide her emotion. Her face is haggard and hopeless, and her eyes full of anguish watch him anxiously. A spasm of pain crosses her pale face, the tears shine, and her lips tremble as he gets up from the table, reaches for his hat and turns toward the door. Won't you stay with me tonight, Harold? she pleads. I have business with the boys. Couldn't pos- sibly stay tonight, he answers with a rude laugh. They need me down at Walker's. Go to sleep. I'll be sure to come home when they close. A timid hand is laid upon his arm. Do stay with me just tonight, Harold. I am not well- all day my heart-Oh! do not laugh-I feel so strangely, I am afraid-and its so lonely. He laughs contemptiously. I guess you'll sur- vive it, Ruth. It seems to me I have heard that same story before, and pushing aside the little hand he continues, Let me go. I am due now at Walker's. You didn't really expect me to stay with you tonight, did you? Why, I wouldn't know how to put in the time. You could read to me, Harold. Bother the reading. That's not in my line. You know that- trying to free hismelf from her grasp. Please, Harold, do, a frown da.rkens the man's face and he impatiently breaks loose from those clinging hands. Perhaps he does not realize how weak and frail is the woman, nor how power- ful his arm, but with a little cry she falls to the floor. He pauses a moment, startled, half alarmed, but as she sits up with a dazed, reproachful look and pushes back her tumbled hair, he grows angry, and muttering an oath he leaves the cabin, closing the door with a loud bang. She tries to

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Unciyilizcd An ancient ape once on a time, Disliked exceedingly to climb. And so he picked him out a tree And said, Now this belongs to me. I have a hunch that monks are mutts, And I can make them gather nuts, And bring the bulk of them to me, By claiming title to this tree. He took a green leaf and a reed. And wrote himself a title deed, Proclaiming pompously and slow: All monkeys by these presents know. Next morning. when the monkeys came To gather nuts, he made his claim- All monkeys climbing on this tree. Must bring their gathered nuts to me. Cracking the same on equal shares: The nuts are mine. the shells are theirs' 'flgly what right? the cried, amazed. Thinking the ape was surely crazed. By this, he answered, if you'll read You'll find it is a title deed- Made in precise and formal shape, And sworn before a fellow-ape. Exactly on the legal plan Used by that wondrous creature, man, In London. Tokio, New York, Glengarry, Kalamazoo and Cork. Unless my deed is recognized, It proyes you quite uncivilizedf' But, one monkey, you'll agree. It was not you who made this tree. Nor, said the ape. serene and bland. Does any owner make his land, Yet all of its hereditaments Are his. and figure in his rents. The puzzled monkeys sat about: They could not make the question out, Plainly, by precedent and law, The ape's procedure showed no flaw: And yet no matter what he said, The stomach still denied the head. Up spoke one sprightly monkey then, Monkeys are monkeys: men are men, The ape should try his legal capers On men who may respect his papers. We don't know deeds: we do know nuts And in spite of 'ifs' and 'buts.' We know who gathers and unmeats 'em By monkey practice also eats 'em. So tell the ape and all his fiunkeys, No man-tricks can he play on monkeys' Thus, apes still climb to get their food. Since monkeys' minds are ci ass and crude And monkeys, all so ill-advised. Still eat their nuts, unciyilized.

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ln the Shadow of the MOLIITt2llllS---C0llfl71Il6lll raise herself to her feet but her head grows dizzy and her breath comes chokinkly as she falls back with a moan while tears gather in a mist and stream down her pallid cheeks. Then as though bewildered her eyes roved restlessly around the little room. As she looks the cabin walls melt away and she is once more in the dear place where her happy girlhood was passed. She she lived stands in sees it all again as plainly as when there in the sunny past. Again she the orchard with Harold's arm clasping her close- ly. She can see him in his mandsome can hear his voice saying, Will you manhooil, trust me with your future, Ruth? Will you go with me to my western home among the Rockies? Once more she stands in the little stone church, her heart beating fast with joy, as in response to the minister's query, Do you promise to love and cherish her until death ? she hears Harold's firmly spoken, I do. The candle drops to one side, gives a sudden flare and then goes out. The kindly moonlight is flooding the room. She is alone again. Her breath comes now in short, quick gasps and with a startled cry she stretches out her arms crying Harold! Harold! But the creak- ing of the iron-bound cabin, as it is shaken by the wind, is the only reply. Meanwhile the men in Walker's Casino have laughed louder and drank deeper than usual, and when Harold Gray finally stumbles up the stony trail to his home it is very late even for him. If any thought of the wistful face of his wife has come to him, it has been drowned in laughter, drink and song. He laughs as he fumbles for the latch. He finds it, the door swings open and his tipsy merriment ceases. A ray of early morn- ing light steals through the little window and re- veals a white, upturned face. It is the same patient face that has always awaited him, and yet he trembles and shrinks back with staring eyes. Beside the still form a baby is lying. There are undried tears upon the dimpled face, and even in sleep the red lips quiver. One small hand holds the bunch of scarlet berries that had adorned the faded frock, and the other clings to the mother who never before failed to respond to baby's touch or baby's cry. But now for the tired feet in the shabby shoes and for the restless heart there has come a wel- come rest. The waiting angel has opened the pearly gates, and the troubled soul has drifted through, out of the shadows, into the radiant sunshine of God's eternal day. .'1i'El. 'i J ,., ,: i S. .H .