Oberlin College - Hi-O-Hi Yearbook (Oberlin, OH)

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that Ephram had escaped down the shallow Black River bed. His non-com- mittal relatives had doubtless thrown food, money and clothing over the bridge to him, for a belated farmer jogging along toward town that moonlit Saturday night had noticed a hulking young darkey leaning against the bridge supports and fancied he heard a swish of water and crackling of underbrush as if an animal were creeping along beneath the bridge. Twang accompanied a detective to the woods Sunday morning and there they met J eH prowling. llc disappeared shortly afterward before Twang raked out ligroiai the thick pine needles a hunting knife, its handle carved into a stag's ea . Two days passed. On the third day Ephram was taken. That evening Twang had been wandering suspiciously through the narrow side street just below the Great House. In cleaner, more respectable days before the wide fields were sold, it had been the quarters of Ilarthcourt negroes. The at- tention of the little, fat man was suddenly attracted to a figure that ap- peared on the top of the hill, vanishing quickly into the ruins. Twang at once crossed the road, climbed the hill and walked around the house to explore. A light was shining out from the tumble-down back door. It was easy to make out through the cracks two men seated, a lantern between them, in a great shadowy room. The one facing the door was lame Ephram. A quarter of an hour later twenty men quietly crept up the hill. The light was gone. They beat down the crazy door and ransacked grimly the littered old apartments. When they had discovered and handcuffed the sil- ent, cowering old negro they dragged him out into the yard. As they bound him to the gnarled trunk of a dry, dead apple tree they cried, Judge Lynch still lives ! This scene in all its barbarous accompaniments the morning papers detailed. A later edition reported thc arrest of Jefferson Platt, whose ser- vant the lame negro was. The sequel created scarcely less excitement. Ill the trial the most sensational evidence proceeded from Twang. It seems that young John Lester had met Jefferson Platt, accompanied by his servant, Ephram, in the Platt woods. They had come into a dispute over a Wild dove, which each claimed to have shot. Both were hotheaded. The quarrel, wax- lng in warmth, turned upon family matters, grew to a crisis. The older man pulled out his hunting-knife and struck at Lester, wounding him. An un- equal struggle gave the latter's gun to Platt, who fired and ran across lots to the Villa. The dazed negro scurried out into the road, saw Twang, and crept back through the woods to the barn. There fifteen' minutes later he Interviewed his master, who came out after his lantern. Obedient to the habit of long years, the old darkey began his tragic flight. After slipping down the Black River a few miles, he had returned and hidden himself in tihetfuins of the Great House. Platt had visited him the evening of his c ca 1. With the conviction of Jefferson Platt for the murder of John Lester the last remnant of passion seemed exhausted. Southern ideals have nar- rowed, their usefulness is impaired, their glory stained, but still some trace endures. For the passing of the spirit of a people demands struggle, educa- tion, time, perhaps because we see not to the close. 1 Ruth Mosher. 15

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Twang, deliberated Platt when his guest had inished, Ephram's an ole man. He's lazed roun' heah yeahs an' yeahs, an' I' mistrust he'll stay on a spell yet. , Jes you come an' see yoself, you don' believe me. You, a Platt, standin' up foh a lame old niggah who orter hung when he couldn't a' touched ground, swingin' from a red-haw tree, befoh yo Pa stirred up murder with his eye-glasses and his lies. Jeff relighted his cold pipe. His silence baited Twang, who got to his ieet. l Bf Ephram's hidin' 'round heah, you all 'd better recomember Judge ync 1. ' 1,11 Who's that you threaten, you low-down trash? Get off this porch or 71 Instantly Twang's hand was on his revolver. I-Iere he contested with no mystery, no woods, only a man. Platt 's eye flashed. Drop that gun, he thundered. V The hard steel clattered against the steps. Twang's face was dead- white. 'fMy God ! hc gasped, Ovah theh just as he fihed-I heard it-a kindah thick voice-'Drop that gun.' Platt brought his hand down upon the speaker 's shoulder. Man, he said, intensely, you heahed nothin', nothin', you ah mad! Then his grip relaxed and he laughed. You and me will get a job with the trained seals, ma chipmunk, an' leave these pahts. We all ah too ex- citin' foh Bellevue. Just you wait, I'll get a headlight and we'll light the woods like noon. As he returned he caught Twang's muttered- They's some devilish- ness heah. The two men walked in silence except for the occasional expression of Twang's busy thoughts. That lame Ephraim, he said once, could 'a' cut 'cross lots to you all's woodshed befoh I got round to the Bridge. They don 't seem no use in lookin' now. It 's too dark. Indeed by this time the night had settled over the trees and the short walk across the fields brought themto a dense gloom of woods. When they stepped into the shadows, Platt stopped abruptly. Feeling Twang's fearful clutch on his arm he flung the little man off. Ilet's go tell the town, come on ! Then he fled, Twang with difficulty matching his long strides. Half an hour had passed since the shot. The leisurely moon was rising when a lawless mob broke into the woods, scattering in noisy, bragging parties. Their lanterns gleaming and glancing among the tree-trunks soon converged in a circle of light around the body of John Lester. They carried him to the Villa, and when they had laid him in the parlor, shouted to the master of the house for whiskey and hot water. But Jefferson Platt was nowhere to be found. That next morning a handful of church-goers met ugly-looking bands of armed men who, tempted from their Sunday dinners by the offer of a liberal reward, were beating up and down the country. They supposed that Ephram was making for the city forty miles to the west, for some distance away in that direction a small boy gave a drink to an old exhausted-looking darkey, and through the fields they found apple-cores, thehot ashes of a fire, and corncobs with the kernels half gnawed away. Meanwhile in Bellevue, it was surmised with considerable certainty 14

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QUIET MEETING. Stern were his eyes of Quaker gray While hers were soft and tblue, And in the meeting-house that day Amid the Friends, he looked her way To where the women sat alone. The gray eyes turned to'seek his owng All grave the blue-unconscious they Yet answered-and he knew. But WIIGII he met her at the door She spoke, who never dared before: 'Twas strange that when thee turned thy head The Spirit moved me too, she said. Margery Strong. IN HER EYES SO DEEP. In her eyes so deep there are secrets hid, That I try in vain to read. ' And the magic to lift each drooping lid Is surely my heart's great need. Yet I dream tl1c1'e's a love that will never sleep, In her eyes so deep. Could I read my fate in those eyes of blue, ' I'd happier be, I know. For I'm given to hope I would find them true, And with tender trust aglow. So I dream there 's a love that will never sleep, In her eyes so deep. When lifted at last they are filled with tears, Those wonderful, limpid eyes- Then away with my craven doubts and fears! They tell me I've won my prize, And I know there 's a love that will never' sleep In her eyes so deep. 1 Paul L 16 eaton Corbin