James Whitcomb Riley High School - Hoosier Poet Yearbook (South Bend, IN)

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there watching tiny red ants busily dig- ging sand from their new home. The sha- dows grew longer and longer. but little Elizabeth was too busy to notice. Evening slipped over the forest to the lone cabin in the clearing, The sun was just setting beyond the low hills in the west when the men came home from the Held. hungry, dirty, tired-but no little girl came with them. The mother was frantic when she learned Elizabeth had not been with her Eather all afternoon. The men plunged out into the cool evening once more. and ran down the trail calling and searching. but to no avail. The for- ests. so friendly in warm daylight. glow- ered and threatened as night approached. Finally the father started to the Tay- lors for help. They would form systems of searching parties and hunt th: sur- rounding timber lands from end to end. With growing apprehension in his heart he rounded a bend in the trail and there in Taylor's outlying field on a big log stood little Elizabeth. surrounded by fluffy white lambs. preaching to the sheep! Elizabeth grew to be a lovely fair girl. strong in body and in mind. She married a quiet. upstanding pioneer boy, and they went further into the wilderness of Indi- ana to build their new home together. Through the Ere of sickness and pain. starvation and hardship. the character of the girl was molded into that of a fine woman, clear-browed. Ciod-fearing. pa- tient in the face of adversity. Out of her family of five, three are still living fine lives, carrying on in her footsteps, a living monument to one of the most courageous of pioneer spirits. -Georgia Lou Palmer. Koch: What made you walk out of my class this morning? Joe Domnonovich: I was moved by your lecture. ft 351 Ilf He: I'll bet I know what you're think- ing about. She: Well, you don't act like it. 1 it :li A stout woman said to a little boy: Can you tell me if I can get through this gate to the park? Little Boy: I guess so. A load of hay just went through. I fm +- MONOTONY DISTURBED A shadow Hits in the blackness: The forest watches Ominously. A Zephyr stirs the branches: The leaves moan Silently. A sibilant whisper as the dagger glides on its path- With the icy steel in his hrart the shadow crumples. relaxed. A shadow lies in the blackness: The forest smirks Coldly. No Zephyr clutches the leaves: Yet they groan Hauntingly. -Chester Feldman. IZB. THE DOWNFALL OF A HOBO Oh, but he was a proud old fellow. proud of his slow. shuffling walk, and proud of his slovenly ways. In his tat- tered brown pants, floppy old coat. and red handkerchief. along with the tradi- tional stick and bandana he covered the country from one side to the other. He always wore a flower in his button hole, for he loved their bright colors and it adds so much to one's appearance. His personality was a winning one, en- tirely contradicting his appearance. Wher- ever he went he made people want to do things for him: they never refused. He was known as The Count. Looking into The Count's half- closed, dreamy eyes. one found a deep con- tentment there. This was the life he wanted, the wide-open spaces, a pipe, and a campfire. and he was entirely satisfied. Then came the amazing and fatal step! The Count bought a horse and wagon! He thought he could see the world so much easier with a horse. and the few ex- tra cents for junk-collecting would buy much better tobacco. But his friends mis- understood: they thought he wanted to work. This was the downfall of the The Count : he was rejected, never again to be taken back into the fraternal brother- hood. He had broken the faith-. -Dorothy Jane Kettring. HOOSIER POET 21

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Y OVELY piece of linen!-small, finely woven. exquisitely patterned. slightly yellow with age. I held it reverently in my hands and once again summoned to my mind the image of a tiny wrinkled old lady, with snow-white hair and the mer- riest of twinkling blue eyes, who had tended the flax in the early summer. strip- ped the fiber from the stalk. bleached, woven, and embroidered that lovely piece of linen. Great-grandmother Elizabeth. ninety years young, who still sewed busily on innumerable quilt blocks and who en- joyed nothing so much as to recall glor- ious stories of her girlhood for anyone who would take the trouble to ask a few questions. And such stories as they were --tales of pioneer life breathing of the ex- ultant joy of freedom. of the small amus- ing events of every-day life, of the un- speakable hardship and privation. all borne with undaunted courage and a smiling heart. Her great-grandfather had come from Germany to settle with William Penn in the eastern forests of our country. Penn- sylvania Dutch they were called-and the name still clings-a staunch, hardy, prac- tical race, who worked untiringly turning a desolate wilderness into thrifty farm lands. The turn of the century saw their canvas-covered wagons drawn by heavy teams of oxen wearily plodding their way into Ohio, and thence to Indiana. Great-grandmother remembered little of the trip but she did remember her first home in Indiana-a square cabin made of small. round logs, notched, and roofed with clapboards. The door was a hole cut in the side and closed by a skin. At the end stood a mud and stick chimney open- ing into a huge fireplace decorated with a semicircle of three-legged stools. At the opposite end was a straw and shuck bed: underneath a trundle bed for the babies was hidden away during the daytime. Ev- ery night the covers were turned back to be sure no snakes had crawled inside. In another corner of the room was a table with its quaint table-ware of pewter, gourd. and wood. Here little Elizabeth was very happy. She was naturally lovable, kind and gen- tle, as befits a little girl brought up in the VISTA- old Dunkard faith. Many joyous hours she spent learning the household tasks from her patient mother-how to care for the animals, the chickens and the geese, how to spin and weave, how to prepare delicious meals for the hungry men-folks from the barest of provisions. But the days were not all work. The little girl liked to play house down by the spring with her twin brothers, to act out plays with frogs for an audience, to build houses from moss, tiny twigs and stones. But best of all she enjoyed the times when Mother would dress her in her Sunday homespun, put on her bonnet with the crisp bow beneath her chin, take her hand and start down the trail to the Taylor's homestead. Mrs. Taylor was the kindest twinkliest lady imaginable. She always had hot Johnny cake and foamy milk waiting for hungry little girls-and the grandest, most shadowy spring house where the moss grew thick and cool and the water gurgled and chuckled as if telling itself amusing stories. It was just the place to dabble hot dusty feet in cool water. and to imagine all sorts of tales about Indians and pioneer weddings and house-warming picnics, One sweet spring afternoon Elizabeth sat on a stone watching her mother pick- ing the geese for a new feather bed. The breeze ruffled her soft brown hair and the sun shown warmly on her back. She could faintly hear the men's voices shouting as they grubbed out stumps in the Held be- hind the cabin. At the edge of the clear- ing the tips of the trees danced merrily, as if beckoning her to come to see them. She simply could not resist the desire to steal down the path, bare feet padding in the dust. and to crouch down behind a big boulder at the turn. Mother's back had been turned when she saw Father ap- proaching for his daily jug of cool butter- milk and she hadn't seen. What fun to be freel She would go see Mrs. Taylor. Um- m-m. she could just smell the hot corn- bread! The tall trees made cool shade and every stone invited her to sit down and rest. It was great fun to explore behind every clump of elderberry bushes, and to hunt for wild strawberries hiding in the deep grass. She wandered wherever she chose-here chasing a white butterfly and 20 HOOSIER POET

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HE deep bond of friendship between Jay Lallis and Emeri Raus had been shattered. Living up in the Alps near the small settlement of Zillis. Switzerland, they had been constant companions for the first sixteen years of their frolicsome boy- hoods. Now that they were of age to carry the mail to Ulstrich, a iierce rivalry had sprung up between them. Carrying the mail to Ulstrich was a very responsible task. It was necessary that the runner be well acquainted with the trail for it was very treacherous with its narrow ledges and the crevices which had to be jumped. Now, in the dead of winter, it was worse than ever. After much deliberation, Jay was given the coveted position. He performed his duties well, but it was rather disconcerting that for the first time in his life Emeri was not there to share his happiness. Both of the boys felt each other's absence, but they tried to believe it didn't matter. Late one afternoon a messenger from Ulstrich appeared at the home of the post- master saying. 'ASir. Ulstrich has not re- ceived today's mail. Could it be possible that Jay Lallis has met with misfortune? The postmaster knew that Jay's daring spirit might lead him to do almost any- thing. but he tried to conceal his alarm as he called for volunteer searchers. Just be- fore a blanket of darkness descended on the Alps, the searching parties returned. but Jay was still unaccounted for. The next morning Emeri set out for Zillis with the mail in his bag. Having the thought that Jay might possibly have been dashed to death on the rocks. he did not rejoice over his good fortune as much as he had done the night before. Yet-he was thrilled to think that he was actually carrying the mail. It was very exhilarating to be walking along in the crisp mountain air and view- ing the splendour of the dazzling snow covering the familiar Alpine peaks. Emeri felt so invigorated that he decided to try a new and shorter way to Zillis even though it was more difficult to travel. As is the custom of all Swiss boys, he was lustily yodeling when suddenly - could it be true? Was someone answering his yodel or were the echoes teasing him? ICY FRIENDSHIP He was right: there was a faint call for help which sounded from the depths be- low. Peering down he saw Jay, pleading for help. Searchers must have failed to look for him on this new trail. Emeri weighed the question in his mind. Jay was helpless, perhaps dying. Emeri wished he had never heard those cries for help. Then he could be the permanent run- ner from Zillis to Ulstrich and his con- science would not torment him if he let Jay lie there and die. But now - a sud- den contrast in feeling dawned upon him -now in the name of their old friendship he felt duty-bound to risk his own life in an effort to save Jay. Slowly and cautiously he felt his way down the embankment to Jay. The look Jay gave him was so full of gratitude that Emeri felt more than repaid for his trou- ble. Thinking quickly, he realized his Hngers were too cold to set Jay's broken leg and he had no matches to build a fire so he took off his own outer jacket and wrapped it about his friend. With an encouraging word, he sped away to the Ulstrich postmaster and soon was back with a group of guides to aid Jay. who was so exhausted he fell asleep while being carried home. After that, Emeri was repeatedly with Jay for the icy coolness between them had melted. Together they planned that as soon as Jay's broken leg was better they would both take the mail to Ulstrich. lt would be much more fun and not nearly so dangerous if both of them went. After Emeri had gone home one eve- ning. Jay confided to his mother. Lying there in all that agony seems like a horri- ble nightmare now, Mother, but the re- storation of our friendship is certainly worth it! -Elizabeth Kleinhans. Miss Kiel: You should have been here at 8:20. Sweeney: Why? What happened? 1 it it Miss Roys: How many lines can you read on that chart? Jean Dice: What chart? 22 HOOSIER POET