Oakfield High School - Oak Leaves Yearbook (Oakfield, WI)

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gresses in his speech, a change seems to pass over the audience, the prisoner’s face begins to lose some of its haggard look, the jury loses its aspect of resolve, and even the judge leans forward in his chair. At last after a final most impassioned appeal, the young lawyer sits down. Where have I seen that face before? I seem to be in the old class room, the debate rages hotly, but above all dominates the voice and spirit of Edward. He it is who has so stirred the heart of even the time hardened judge. A large sunny room, with dainty white curtains at the windows and on the walls, pictures of child life. In the center of the room sits a young woman, surrounded by eager children. The happy looks of pleased anticipation and the adoring glances they cast upon the teacher, speak volumes about her influence over them. I seem to recognize this golden brown hair with the faint tinge of red. I seem again to hear the question hotly discussed, “What color is Lilian’s hair?” I look at her once more. Yes, it is Lilian, who has obtained her heart’s desire, to be instructor of little children. Glancing at the desk, I see lying on it a circular addressed to Miss L. Pratt, Director of the Kindergartens, Denver, Colo. Lillian is .evidently doing honor to her class. Once more the scene changes. A blockade in a busy street. Horses, cabs, drays, carriage, all were “tangled” up in seemingly inextricable confusion. The policemen are endeavoring to unravel the snarled skein. Suddenly an automobile comes tearing down the street. Will it stop? In spite of the policemen’s commanding waves, it keeps on. When it seems impossible to avoid a collision, the driver presses a lever and the automobile, rising lightly into the air, passes safely over the obstruction and descending, continues on its way. The crowd gasps in amazement. I hear one man say, “That must be Ehrhardt, the great inventor. Isn’t this the day on which he is to denom-strate his latest improvement on the automobile?” “Ehrhardt.” That must be Alvin, for during our school days his mind had ever been in that direction. JBy magic the scene is again shifted and I see before me a large building, evidently a college. At the curb, the automobile is standing. The driven is seated in it. I look at him sharply and verify my suspicion. Now the door opens and a crowd of young men troop down the steps. In their midst they bear aloft on them shoulders a young man who blushingly receives the congratulations of his companion. Of whom do those blushes remind me? The crowd halts before the automobile, the driver of which, having arisen, holds out his hand to the young hero. “Wells, I rejoice in your victory,” he says. At that name, I look again at the young man, and after a sharp scrutiny convince myself that it is indeed Grant, but greatly changed. He appears older and more thoughtful, no longer “the lad whose happv life is one perpetual grin.” As they whirl away, a parting cheer arises, “’Rah for Wells! Our champion orator!’ Once more there slowlv emerges from the liouid a vision. A deep ravine. A camp fire burning brightly. Seated beside it, a hunter, with his dog stretched at his feet. The man gazes meditatively into the fire, then with a sudden smile, turns to his faithful companion. Placing his hand affectionately upon the dog’s head, he says, “This is the only life for us, isn’t it. old comrade?” That smile seems to free a flood of memories. In spite of the weather beaten, tanned face, I recognize the merry blue eyes as those of Marshall, our naturalist and trapper.

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SHADOWS. The Veil Lifted From the Future! Pause! Enter! Ascertain! This startling announcement arrested my attention as I was strolling down the street. “The class of 1907” flashed through my mind. Ascending thr steps, I rang the bell. The doer was opened by a solemn porter who showed me into a small room hung with oriental tapestry. A handsome woman of eastern aopearance, arose and fixed upon me her large, unfathomable eyes. After some minutes of silent scrutiny, she led me to a large crystal which was half-filled with what appeared to be a semi-transparent liquid. “Watch closely and listen,” she said. Then she left me. I gazed into the sphere. Soon dark shadows appeared in the liquid; these began to assume definite shape. A large hall crowded to the doors. An entranced hush seems to hold every one breathless.. .Upon the stage, a slender young woman is rising from the piano. It was evidentlyt her magic touch that had cast a spell upon the audience. As she turns, a storm of applause breaks forth. I catch a glimpse of her face and an exclamation of suprise bursts from my lips, for it is—Jessie. Immediately the picture vanishes, I gaze intently and the second vision appears. A race course, an impatient crowd moving restlessly back and forth. A rumor seems to spread through its midst, for suddenly all press forward toward an enclosure. In this enclosure, a group of men stand around a black horse which is lying on the ground. A gray haired man kneels at its side. He now arises and, shaking his head, says, “There is only one hope left.” I can not understand the instant reply. A messenger is sent into the crowd., and after some time returns accompanied by a young man who carries a case in his hand. A sense of familiarity comes over me, but I do not analyze it. The young man kneels r.t the horse’s , side and after looking at it closely, works over the animal for some time, and arises. “Gentlemen,” he says, “Firefly is all right and will be able to tun her race tomorrow.” As he turns to leave, a shout of joy bursts from the crowd. “Underwood, Underwood! the famous surgeon,” responds from all sides. “Can it be?” I think and look closely at the young man. Yes, it is our Lee. A little cottage nestling among the trees. Roses and old-fashioned flowers make it a thing of beauty. At a table under the shady trees, sits the white clad figure of a woman. She has her back turned to me and is busily engaged in writing. I peep over her shoulders; “Bust and Busters,” a curiosity rousing title, “All the people of this world may be divided into two classes, Dust and Dusters,” that seems to strike a chord in my memory. I see several books lying on the table and glance at the titles, “Recognition” by “Nib,” “Poems” by “Nib,” “Maria Stuart.” Translation by “Nib.” “Nib,” I murmured, “Why, that is—” at this moment she arises and I see her face. My memory has not played me false. “Nib” is our dear Ethel. A hot, dusty court room, a strained attention, all eyes are fixed upon the prisoner, who, pale and hopeless, looks at the prosecuting attorney who, having finished what was evidently a convinc nc? sreech, sits down. All doubt see to have fled from the faces of the jury. Now arises a tall young man, and taking his stand before the judge, begins a last plea for the prisoner. As he pro-

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ALPHABET. A is for Alvin, so jolly and gay. B is for Blanche, who is happy all day. C is for Clara, a lover of fun. D is for Doc, his father’s elder son. E is for Edward who will argue forever. Who will give up all else, but from that he will not sever. F is for Flora, with “Hobby” so rare. G is for Grant, in the Senior Chair. H is for Hugh, who knows how to bluff. I is for Irish, and that is enough. J is for Jessie, who will have her own way. K is for Katie, whom w e met at a play. L is for Lillian, who can scarcely define ’Twixt honors and burdens, so faint is the line. M is for Moses,not as old as his name. Though actions and age don’t agree, so they claim. N is for Norma, who nobly doth try To pound German into dumbheads, oh, my! O is for Orvis, so pretty and trim. P is for Phoebe, though quiet, not prim. Q is for quarrels, that sometimes arise In senior class meetings, Oh, how the hair flies! R is for Ralph, with text book and quill. S is for Schoony. Did he ever sit still? T is for Tom who has left the charmed ring. U is for undergrads, who have not tried a wing. V is for victory, for which we all strive. And will win if we are alive. W is for Walter, whom you know well. X means unknown, so I will not tell. Y is you all we’ve not happened to name ; And so you’re all mentioned just the same. Z that last letter for Zaidee must stand, And well we know her and her free helping hand. WANTED—A keen man to search for somebody as bright as myself. HUGH WORTHING WANTED—A patent medicine for “mathematical discouragement. Must be warranted to cure said disease. PHOEBE CRUMB. WANTED—Latest book of “Smile Provokers” and Dr. Blank’s book entitled “Don’t Get Fat.” CLAUDE CRAGOE. WANTED—A long time alone with my special “Hobb(y).” FLORA MORGAN. WANTED—The strength of Sampson. GULI ORVIS. WANTED—The retention of my peace cf mind and an X-ray. P. S.: Not particular about the X MAGGIE SMITH.