Hathaway Brown School - Specularia Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

Page 30 text:

it jfairrg Stow. Being very tired one afternoon, I threW myself down to rest on a couch, with 21 b0X of chocolate creams in my hand. HardlY had I closed my eyes, when I seemed to be awakened by some one walking in the room. I opened my eyes, and how very dif- ferent the room looked I Everything seemed to have become the color of the chocolate- creams in my box. As my last thought had been that I should like to live in a house where everything was made of choco- late, I thought right away that my wish must have come true. Even the wall-paper was covered with pictures of candy-boxes filled with these candies, and some were half opened and the contents falling out. The carpet was ofthe same warm color and looked as though it were made of chocolate. The furniture all looked the same, and I was much pleased to End it so. The person I had heard walking about the room was a pretty, chocolate-colored maid bearing in her handa tray upon which was a cup of hot chocolate and a piece of rich chocolate cake. She was dressed like the pictures of the girls on the chocolate boxes, and was really very pretty. I sat up, and after drinking the chocolate which she gave ine, I asked her to tell me where Iwas. She only smiled, shook her head, and quietly left the room. I stood up and started to walk across the room to a chair near the window. I took a few steps, and then looking down, I saw that my foot- prints were left 'deep in the soft floor. I had hardly reached the chair andrecovered from my surprise, when one of the doors opened and a boy dressed in livery entered, with a dish of chocolate-creams in his hand. He had but just left the room, when another door opened, and this time there entered a boy with chocolate-caramels, which he offered me. All the morning these inter- ruptions went on, until I felt that I should never want to eat or see chocolate candy again. E - g Soon lunch was served on a little table in one corner of the room, and everything that was offered me was either made with choc- olate or flavored with it. I could not eat much, although I was very hungry, and I would have given anything I owned fora drink of pure, cold water. I asked for some 5 the maid only smiled and shook her head, and brought me another cup of choc- olate. I As I had already drunk nine or ten cups of the same beverage, I put down the cup hastily on the table in not a very good humor, when crack !-it was broken into a thousand pieces! As the table was very frail, the sudden jar made it tip over with a great crash and-I sat up on the couch and found-that it was all a dream. I don't think that I shall ever eat any- thing made of chocolate again, as the few hours in a chocolate house were enough for all my life. JETTIE THEOLA WASON, 1902. C?-I-1 GDC IRGHCCUOIIB GI Ionce overheard one of my girls say: Oh, she isa teacher, she hasn't anything to do. She doesn't have to prepare any lessons. IfI were only a teacherll' Poor little deluded pupil! little she knows of the H School GGHCIUCF. work we teachers have to prepare, the hours we are obliged to give to study to be able to make the lessons of interest to her. I wonder if she realizes the work and the time it takes to look over a pile of essay 26

Page 29 text:

corn. Presently I came to a house and, being very thirsty, I went to the kitchen door and asked for a drink, when, to my great astonishment, I saw a middle-aged man washing the dishes and trying to hush a fretful baby, while a boy about fifteen Was sweeping the floor. Hiding my astonish- ment as best I could, I secured the desired drink and went on. Looking across the fields, I perceived two more women plowing. I went over to where they were, and my face must have expressed the astonishment I felt, for one of them said: You must be a new one in these partsf, We only arrived yesterday, I said. I suppose it seems queer to see women working like this, for they don't do it in other places, I am sorry to say, but then you'll get to it, I reckon, especially as you'll have to pitch in an' help, too, in harvest time, for we generally have such a big crop that every woman in the place has to turn out an' help, so there won't any go to waste. P The effect of this startling announcement that I had got to help run a threshing ma- chine was too much, and 'I started off, dis- gusted with the people, if not with the country. Soon I met a farmer's wagon which a Woman was driving, and I asked if she were going to the village, which was about a mile distant. She said that she was, and asked if I should like to ride. As I wished very much to see the village, I availed my- self of her invitation and climbed into the wagon. She tried to enter into conversa- tion, but we failed to hit upon a congenial subject. She asked me ifI had read The Signs of the Times for Women, and the Divine Right of Woman. But as I an- swered that I had never seen either of these magazines, she seemed to conclude that I was a very illiterate person and not worthy of her consideration. She let me down at the first street corner, and as I walked up the street, I began to wonder if the world had begun to turn in the wrong direction. The first store was a millinery store, with a number of trimmed hats in the window. I stopped and read the sign, Mr. James Johnston, Fashion- able Milliner. I walked along farther and came to a blacksmith's shop. Upon looking in I saw a woman shoeing a horse, while a girl, her apprentice, was blowing the bel- lows. I looked at all the signs on the street and they read thus: Rosa Lee, Flour and Feed, John Hale, Candy Maker, Isa- belle Stuart, Druggistf' James Mason, Plain Sewing. At the end of the street was a large rolling mill, ' Sarah Howland, Rochester Roller Mill. Use Sarah's Flour. I went to the postoflice and entered into conversation with the postmistress. It seems to me, I began cautiously, that the women have a good deal to say about things around here. I Ohlu' she said, , we have the say about everything. It's the only way to bring man to the realization of the capabilities of woman. I wandered home again, and, to my hor- ror, I found my father with an apron on and his coat sleeves rolled up to the elbows, mixing bread. This shocked me so that I awoke, and found, to 1ny great relief, that' it was all a dream. P7 FLORENCE CARROLL, Igoo. 25

Page 31 text:

books. I am sure it is anything but play to sit by the hour marking in red ink usp. gr, diction, or defective English, con- sult I-Iill's Rhet., p. IO7,H etc. And then the writing! If we could but read the essays right off, without having to stop to study them, hold them at arm's length, gaze at them, puzzle over them and finally have to write illegible It really is hard work, my dear pupil! q I think I should not mind teaching half so much ifIcould but drop school, school talk, school everything at the close of the day's session, and not be reminded of it again until I face my classes on the morrow. But no, such is not my luck. I am stopped at the most inconvenient times,-on the crowded street cars, in stores, and on the street, to talk shop. I even remember hav- ing once been stopped at a reception by a doting sister and a loving brother, both of whom, after shaking hands with me in the most friendly manner, CI knowing all the time what was coming,D asked: Is little sister doing well? and, Is little brother answered them, but with a sardonic smile and great displeasure, I managed to escape from them only to run into the open arms of a matronly looking woman. 'Une of the mothersf thought I 5 and, sure enough, the iirst question was of Mary, of her interest in school, her love for her teachers and mates. I spoke of Mary very cautiously, for I was not sure of which Mary she spoke. I had three in one class, and knew none of - their mothers. I suppose it isunatural for a mother to speak ofher children, but a recep- tion is not a proper place for such conver- sation, I think. Still, I should probably do it myself. Do not think from my many reflections that there are really no pleasures in a school-, teacher's life, for there are many. The friendships made, some life-long, the com- ing in contact with so many new' pupils, A and the interest with which you watch them progress when they have left you, and per- haps forgotten you because 'of their interest in their work, all tend to make school life quite bearable, if not enjoyable. improving in his history? Of course I NADINE J. SIMMONS, '99. ram Shree Galle. I. Will you excuse me, Mr. Italian Re- Sfene: Mrs. B1'0zwze's Parlor. Time: 3.-30 P. M. Well, I knew they would go to see the baby sometime, but what a long time it took for Mrs. I-Iarris to ask for it, said the chair on which Mrs. Harris had sat. It didn't seem so long to me, but per- haps it is because it is so much cooler in here than out in that boiling sun, replied Mrs. I-Iarris's parasol, a dainty creation of silk and lace. It is a great pleasure for us old folks to have a chance to talk to such young and charming creatures, said a gallant old Renaissance chair. naissance, if I ask you a veryimpudent ques tion? The other day my mistress, Mrs Harris, took me with her to Vincent-Bar- stow's to look at some gentlemen like your- self. There was one who seemed to me older than you, but the clerk told us it was made in Michigan. Now, how can those made in Michigan be older than the others ? inquired the parasol. O dear, now he is on that, there will be no fashions or anything pleasant, sighed a delicate Dresden shepherdess from the cab- inet. ' ' My dear young lady, began the really old chair, youare altogether too young and charming to understand the ways men have 27