Lewisburg High School - Union Hi Spots Yearbook (Lewisburg, OH)

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THE MAN WITH A HOE The European peasant, exhausted by the labor of many long hours, wearily leans upon his hoe and stares at the clods. His skin has been browned and hardened by his endless and mean- ingless toil under the scorching sun. His clothing is worn and covered with the dust and grime of the field. His receding forehead is protected from the fierce sun by a bit of cloth. His brutal jaw hangs openg and in his brain there is no light. Though God created him in His own image, he has changed. -MIRIAM HEETER, '3 1 . A GYPSY My guest for the evening is a little gypsy maid. She has dark, flashing eyes, olive skin, blood-red lips, and wears a costume with colors like the red rose, the green of the emerald, the yellow of the sunshine, the blue of the sky-what a picture she makes! She adorns herself with jewelry of every kind. About her neck are beads of every hue. Her arms and hands are almost covered by bracelets and rings, and her dress hangs heavy with spangles. Her bewitching smile, revealing gleaming white teeth, is all that is needed to complete this picture which breaths of that distant land of Romany-that land where the gypsies dwell. -HILDA LOY, tai. A SMALL BOY He sat there pouring, digging his bare toes into the sand. His sandy hair was rumpled and hanging down over his forehead and eyes. His face was flushed, and his overalls were dirty. In one grimy fist he clutched a red top. -MERLIN HENN, '51. BOOKS FOR VARIOUS OCCASIONS Thomas Carlyle in the essay, Hero and Hero Worship, says, All that mankind has done, thought, gained, or been, is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books. Reading makes a fuller man out of anyone, it improves his knowledge, it gives him news of the activities of others. It takes men on long journeys to distant parts which possibly they could never see. All people do not like the same kind of reading, in fact, there are many who read one kind of books only. It is quite interesting to sit in the school library for a while and listen to the requests for books by students, especially those who do not want to read but are compelled to fill requirements. Some will take books given them without saying a word, while others demand the shortest, the most entertaining, or the easiest to understand. While I prefer a certain kind of book and have my favorite author, I do not limit my reading to one type all the time. In any book lover's library will be found all kinds of reading material. When it is cold and raining out-of-doors, what more could anyone wish than a nice easy chair by a fireplace and a good book, a book that is suitable to such an occasion. It is at such times as that that a person feels more like reading heavier material, such as Dickens, or Cooper's Leather Stocking Tales. Our state supervisor of education says that, although he has read Hugo's jean Val Jean several times, he always has a copy of this book lying handy. There are also the non-fiction books suitable to this occasion such as Stoddard's Lecturesg The Americanization of Edward Bok, the story of a young lad who camel to America and how he became a successful man, and a very useful citizeng and The Labrador Doctor, a true story of Dr. Grenfell's expe- rience in the North. At Christmas time there are Christmas stories, and especially Dicken's Christmas Carol. In the Springtime with the heavy perfume of flowers in the air, the young and romantic minds will turn to the love story of Romeo and Juliet, or other stories of great lovers. For stories with a thrill who could want anything better than Poe's mystery stories, such as Masque of the Red Death, or his poem The Raven. There are any number of books for various moods and different occasions, for as Bacon says, Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. -JAMES ANTRIM LONGNECKER. Page Thirty-two

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JUNE O june! delightful month of june When brooks and birds all sing in tune, When in the pastures swarm the bees And hum their sleepy melodies, O june! the month of bluest skies, Dear to the dancing butterflies, O june! the month of merry song, Of sorrow brief, of sunshine longg All things on earth love you the best, You fill all lives with happiness. The wind that wakes and, singing, blows The fragrant perfume of the roseg The robin's heart beats 'gainst his breast As he sits singing near his nestg O june! such music haunts your nameg This summer's chorus has brought you fame, O, month of june! -AUDREY BOWER. SPRING TIME IN THE WOODS The wild flowers are blooming, O, do not delay Come with me and gather the flowers while we may. There are the lillies, the bloodroot, the crowfoot yo But the little blue violet is dearest to me. I hear the birds singing-look up in that tree. They're singing to you-they're singing to me. They are gathering sticks to build their nestsg Now which of the birdies do you love the best? There's the sparrow, the robin, the chickadee-dee But the robin red breast is my choice of the three. And we must not forget the dear, little wren It will soon be building its nest again. I.et's look in the bushes and maybe we'll see The little wrens nest-how small it will be O, yes! there it is-come quickly away For the little brown wren seems weary today. IN THE MORNING In the morn when I arise I see the sun there in the skies, just high enough to make A beautiful daybreak. The sparkling dew is on the grass, It blinks at me when e'er I pass. But soon the sun steals it away No matter how it tries to stay. Far off I hear the bird's glad cry, And as I stand just wondering wh I see that spring is here, The time birds love so dear. Y, Oh, how I wish I were a bird To wander everywhere I've heardg I'd roam the whole world through And visit you-and you-and you u see, -RUBY SWANK. FLORENCE SAUI... Page Thirty-one

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HOW UNCLE JOHN SURPRISED US Uncle john was a bachelor, over seventy years of age. We knew of his devotion to animals but little suspected the step he would take to convince us more thoroughly. Uncle, during his earlier years, had saved a goodly sum of money and we, his nieces and nephews, were his only heirs. We had for several weeks noticed he looked preoccupied and worried but attributed his uneasiness to his rheumatism. His pet hobby was caring for cats. He turned the woodshed into a menagerie, which consisted of grey, black, white, yellow, and spotted felines. He adopted every creature his eyes chanced upon, whether thin or fat, long or short. We had nightly serenades from the occupants of the woodshed in the yard, but did not protest to him as we were compelled, at any price, to humor the whims of an old man with a fortune. One morning, bright and early, we discovered Uncle hobbling feebly down the stairs with the information that the rheumatiz had nearly finished him and he had best make his will immediately. We, his heirs, exchanged well pleased glances for we did not want him to pass away without settling his fortune on us. A few mornings later Uncle john was found dead in bed. After he had been peacefully laid to rest, his sorrowing relatives decided that two things remained to be done: to dispose of Uncle's medley of cats as quickly as possible, and to read the will and determine how much of Uncle john's money we were each to share. My sister and I had planned to use our share immediately to see the wonders of the West. We gathered together and began to read the document. Alas! the entire fortune was to go to an institution for stray cats, and I-inherited his menagerie in the woodshed. -HELEN COATES, '32. TRAFFIC LIGHTS Blinking red and green and yellow Traffic light At busy cornerg -Magic light Of changing color Silent traffic cop,' above. Speeding by in truck and roadster Careful driver, Reckless driver, See the light Of changing color, just a traffic light to them. But at night it holds a beauty Of enchantment Fairy charmg Traffic light Day and night Blinking red and green and yellow. -MERNA BROWN WAITING FOR A STREET CAR The rain patters against my umbrella as I wait for the street-car. Automobiles splash the muddy water, from the dark puddles on the Street, and ruin the clothes of pedestrians. A half-drenched dog hurries from in front of a passing car and reaches the opposite side in safety. He seeks protection on a poarch, only to be chasedaway by a broom. I wonder if the poor, dirty cur has a home or whether he is justanotherstray. Then I see my car approaching and get my fare ready. -LADONNA SMYER, '31. HAYING TIME It is a hot day in summer. The fragrance of new-mown hay fills the air. Occassionally, as a fresh bunch of hay is thrown on the wagon, comes the choking odor of pennyroyal. The dry hay softly crumples beneath my feet as I tramp it into place. The horses breathe heavily, and the wagon rumbles and screeches as we drive to the next windrow. There is the metallic clang as a man, nearby, dumps his rake, while farther away a mower clatters as another farmer is mowing for the next day's haying. What a busy time haying is! -GERALD VANAUSDAL, 31. Page Thirty-lbree