Jackson High School - Osky Wow Yearbook (Jackson, OH)

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ice, she not only abused her husband, but everything went wrong and everything was in her way, even her pet cat, Clothilde. “Dear Tony,” she lamented, “We ain’t goin’ to get no ice, an’ we can’t have no iced tea, nor lemonade, nor sherbet, an’ the butter ’ll be thinner than oil.” “Well, Maria, it is God’s will an’ we’ll have to make the best of it. I reckon those men hev read their Bibles enough to know that we can’t hev everything to suit ourselves,” said good natured Uncle Tony. The Maker had given Aunt Maria an inventive temperament which persistently came to her aid in unfortunate moments, so she was not long in solving her way out of the difficulty. As usual, Tony was a chief factor in her schemes, and obediently came to her call. “Tony,” she began, with a commander-in-chief attitude, “You go an’ git that there wheelbarrow out there, an’ go down to the ice-house an’ haul me home some ice, an’ everything ’ill be lovely.’’ But Tony was not to be used as a pack-horse and hotly retorted, “Huh! what d’ you think I be, a delivery wagon? 7'hem there Gospel preachin’ men ain’t a doggone bit better than me, an’ it’s been hotter days than this, when you wouldn’t get no ice fer iced tea nor lemonade, an’ the ice man stoppin’ right afore your very door.” Then Aunt Maria said, with tears that would have been a credit to Niobe, “Why do I have such luck when I’m willin’ to work for God’s prophets? Oh, dear! God must have forsaken me to send me such bad luck.” Words, remonstrances and expostulations were equally useless, and Tony, with a lingering glance at his Frau, took the wheelbarrow and trudged to the ice-house, contemplating why men are so susceptible to women’s tears. When her grief had subsided, she looked around for Tony, but no Tony could be found, and a new outburst of passion fol- lowed, “I’d bet my best jar o’ pickles that he’s gone down to Zeke Jones’blacksmith shop to chew the rag and smoke. 1 alk about women folks bein’ gossipy, why, he kin gether more news there in fifteen minutes than I kin at our Thimble Club in two hours. Now, Clothilde, you git out o’ my way, when I got the most work tt» do you’r always strangled around my feet, an’ scaring the livin’ life out o’ me.” Her display of vocal accomplishments was accompanied with a kick, by which the cat was transported across the room, express prepaid. Clothilde had been quite a pet and unaccustomed to harsh treatment, so she was thrown into such a panic that she crawled up the screen door, and from there over the bed and onto the wardrobe with Aunt Maria and the broomstick in pursuit, but Clothilde could not be coaxed to leave her place of refuge. Tony was just returning with the ice, and entered the house wondering what the commotion could be. “Oh Tony, even my Clothilde has gone into a fit an’ is up on the wardrobe an’ I can’t make her come down,’’ sobbed Aunt Maria. “Well, no wonder; 1 guess you skeered her into fits. Don’t blame her fer goin’ where it’s high, fer I’d like to git on a house when you git started,” responded • Tony. But Aunt Maria had seen the ice, and the cat’s fits were insignificant matters. “God is good! God is merciful! I knowed he would hear my prayer an’ send me the ice! How good God is! He sent me the ice,” she exclaimed, but Tony wiped the perspiration from his face and again his righteous indignation rose to fever heat. “It wasn't God that heard your prayer, it was me, an’ I got the ice fer you. I thinks you ought to be praisin’ me instead o’ God, fer how could he send you ice in summertime? It’d melt before it got here” he retorted scornfully. THIRTt

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“STRIKES AND FUST By Alma G. “Laws o’ Mercy, child, ain’t you jest about roasted?” asked Aunt Maria, as she entered the preacher’s house through the hack door and greeted his better half with these words. Outside, the July sun beat down, heedless of the inconvenience it bestowed upon suffering mankind. Inside, it was still warmer and almost as warm as that place the Bible describes, for it was baking day in the minister’s kitchen The bread was rising and two large cakes were ready to be iced. Mrs. Jackson peeped into the oven, where four pies were becoming a beautiful appetizing brown, before she ventured to answer Aunt Maria. “Yes, I am rather hot, but you see we are expecting ten members of the Bible School to come this afternoon, and with those five mischievous children of mine, I will have my hands full for a few days, so I decided to bake this morning,” she said wearily. “If that don't beat all earthly things, heard or unheard of,” bewailed Aunt Maria; “it’s a downright pity, but I’ll do anything I kin fer you. Perhaps you could send two of the preachers over to my house fer bed an’ victuals, fer you know Tony an’ me hav lived alone so long it ’ill be jest a circus to hev some one about. Course, if they be very stuck up like most preachers is, I reckon Tony an’ me will be kind o’ coarse, but I hold myself jest as good as them or anyone else, that I do. I’m good from heart, fer I ain’t stoled nobody’s chickens an’ never harmed my neighbors, an’ I tell you what, if they was more people like that, we wouldn’t need so many o’ them Bible Schools. I be plain spoken an’ outright in all my transactions, an’ I ain’t ’shamed o’ it, neither.” “You are so kind to me and it would be such a help, that I will accept your kind Miller, ’15. offer, but are you sure it won’t inconvenience you?” anxiously asked Mrs. Jackson. “It won't be a mite o’ trouble to me, fer you know we got plenty o’ beds and garden sass; an’ don’t you go an fritter yourself into a stew over your work, fer what you can’t git done, the Lord ’ill give you credit fer anyway. ” So Aunt Maria hurried home to prepare for her company. The next morning at the church, Aunt Maria’s visitors were praising her cooking ability, and the others said, “Well, as far as the cooking goes, we are very well satisfied, but the sleeping part overbalances that. We were put into a large room where there were three beds; all eight of us crowded into them. That wasn't so bad, but about the time we were entering into sleep, a series of screams and yells evoked from the next room First, the baby had the colic and kept us awake until one o’clock; and at succeeding intervels of about fifteen minutes, every one of them cried for a drink. About three o’clock, we were aroused by a terrible scream and heard Jimmy tell his mother the Gypsies were after him. By four o’clock we heard Brother Jackson calling the cows and we knew it was time for us to be up. If we have another night like that we will ask Sister Maria to take us in as boarders.” That night it was a little worse, for two children contracted measles and croup, which excited the whole household, so the preachers packed their suitcases and morning found them cosily ensconced at Aunt Maria’s house. This day was extremely hot and Aunt Maria’s circus was started. Everything went smoothly, until she heard that the icemen had gone on a strike. Now, Aunt Mara was a queer sort of a person. She was all right if everything went her way, but now that she was unable to secure the TWENTT-NINE

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But Aunt Maria was in her seventh heaven of delight, and everything was successful, for her Clothilde was not dangerously ill after her fits, and the remainder of the preachers’ sojourn was uneventful of disasters. When Aunt Maria’s sister visited her, she spoke of the tremendous expense, but Maria assured her that they could make that up in a year, for the preachers had broken I ony of smoking and chewing. BOXWELLS VERSION OF SPRING. The Boxwell scratched his scrawny neck And these words quoth, quoth he “I’ve driv my hoss from hum to school. And I’ve driv right merrily; But this spring weather gets my goat, It’s got me up a tree.” The Boxwell lashed his poor old “hoss’’ And the words he said were few. But I got their “drift” as they whistled past, And they were of a sulphurous hue; ‘ ’Twas warm as June, this morning,” quoth he As the end of his whip he chewed; “But the weather got colder, and rain changed to snow And it snew, and snew, and snew! ’ “ T he stubble needs plowin’, but the stubble’s too wet On account of the rain that has snew; Pa sez we’ll be lucky if a crop we get, I feel like cussin’, would you? For the weather gets colder And the rain turns to snow And it snews. and snews, and snews. ” —Har ld Jones, '15. thirty-one;