Harding High School - Quiver Yearbook (Marion, OH)

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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 .

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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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Che Evening Squeak SMALL TOWN STUFF i WHY THE EDITOR TOOK TO THE HILLS fFrom the Lancaster, Wis., Tellerj Tle low down scurvy half-breed that swiped our log chain from the bridge where we were working does not need to bring it back, as we have another one, but if there is a hell for dogs I hope he gets a seat in the front row with 1ny compliments. TRADE ADIEUS After we had entertained a saleslady all evening and had said good-night at her abode, she murmured, Thanksl Will that be all? The-Alee-who-invented-the-hot-scheme-of-saying-any-old thing-this-way-certainly-was-the-prize-Alee-until-the-other AlCC'-CPIINC-11lIillQPU'Itll-tllQ-ti'll.llId0l'Ol.1S-IdQ3.-Of-- Saying- It- This- Way- WILLIE THE VILLAGE DEMON fFrom the Piperock Pilot.l S im' of the bad boys of the village caused quite a dis- turbance on Main Street last Tuesday evening, ringing the l'cll in the town hall and making a lot of noise. Wil- lie Parks was seen liring his cap pistol. BAFFLED IFrom the Montreal Starj We think there are plenty of nice girls in this toon, and nice tnough for any of the local boys, but the latter prefer going out with girls from some other of our near- by towns. We often wonder what the attraction is, eer- tainly not their looks. Chiekieehackie, Indian Territory. llcely Pump Co. 1 i g t the pump witch i by from you. XYhy doan you sent me no hanle Shure thing you doan treat me rite. i rot IU days an my kustomer he holler for Vllater for him pump you no he is hot some now an it win he no blow the pump She got no hanle so what I goan to do with it. Sen them handle rite quick I sen he back and I goan to order some pump from my kustomer goodbye Peter Melontubby since i rite i lin in box it dam hanle Pete. WHY THE EDITOR BEAT IT Ilfrom the Marengo Republican-News.l Baptist Church, 7:30 p. m.-Popular evening service. Subject, Fools and Idiots. A large number is ex- pected. Mark Twain once said, When I reflect upon the num- lrr of disagreeable people, who I know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a different life. V I IFrom the Fairmont West Virginian.1 Miss Bertha M. Dilgarde sang sweetly and efiiectively, Just as I Am, Without One Flea. WHY DOGS LEAVE HOME IFrom the Chiekasha, Okla. Expressj To the cheef of the poleas, sir i thot i would drop you a fue lins in regard to a blud lzeun i want won if you tell me wher i can geet won i will thank you for it if you will pleas writ me at wonce if you no wher i can geet won, aney wher, well i will clos and hop to hear from you soon, a bout this mater, yours, G. B. Still, Constibil. Be brief. The following, from a secion foreman to the rozidmastcr, is a model: No G did not whistle. Please send me another handearf' Mr. Sink having resigned as plumber to the Immortals, we are recommending in his place the plumbing firm of ,Iamin ti Jerkin, of St. Petersburg, Fla. ALMOST PAINFULLY FRANK IFrom the Cedar Rapids Republicanj Ilardware and implement business for sale. VVill sell right. No trade, good reason for selling. Melvin Mof- fatt. RECEIVED BY A PUBLIC SCHOOL TEACHER Please excuse 'Willie for going home at recess. He git a pain in the boy's basement and couldn't get up the stairs. Please excuse Mary for being so jumpy. She just got better of St. Fido's dance. THE SECOND POST IRcceived by a North Dakota Fur Companyfl Dear Sir: I send you a horse hide it is very raw for this bin a very sick horse. She has been sick for a week and hasent been able to eat but she drank worse than ever, and she starved. We put her nose in the oats in the morning, dinner and supper, but no, she wouldn't taste it. We are very glad to send this hide to you. VVe sent a very nice hide to you not long ago and got a very nice price for it, but the tail was cut oft' I made a mistake that time, but excuse me for it. This hide is very torn to, for the horse was poor and hard to get skin of, so once in a while here and there I cut a hole in the fur. Yours truly, etc. NOT KNOCKING THE BRIDE IFrom the San Francisco Examiner.j Following the ceremony Commander IrVilliam Glassford, und 'r whom MacFarlane served as an ensign in the navy during the war, decorated the groom for bravery. Golden Thought for the Day-Every Column Has An End. H. B. T.