Oshkosh High School - Index Yearbook (Oshkosh, WI)

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DECEMBER INDEX FOR NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN branch. To be sure, two of the pike were sand pike and rather small, but the others were huge, golden, wall-eyed fellows and the pickerel was surely a beauty. Warm and drowsy by the fire, he fell into a reverie, wondering how long it would be before the fish would move back into the shallow water, and hoping he would get no more mud-puppies. He thought, too, how, on the one line, the wall-eye had probably taken the bait during the night, and the pickerel, the wolf of the waters, in an early morning raid had descried the other minnow in the murky water and voraciously attacked it, expecting to secure it before the pike, whom he evidently thought was also pursuing it, could reach it. But the ravenous old fellow had been hooked, and, in his mad rushes through the water, had towed the less restive pike back and forth behind him. But suddenly the Boy arose and kicked the logs apart, slung his ice chisel across his shoulders, picked up his catch and gun and started on his triumphal march home, for the sun was setting. Far off the forest-covered hills looked grey and cold and near at hand the lights were ceasing to dance on the snow and flash from the tiny ice-drops, for night was spread- ing her gray mantle over the huge, white blanket of the snow. Less and less distinct grew the far-off hills, until they became only a distant gray blur and then slowly faded entirely from the sight. Lights began to twinkle here and there in the village, but the Boy saw them not, for his mind, exalted by the quiet peace and beauty of the night, dwelt not with this mean earthly existence but with the Great Creator of it all. Faintly, yet near at hand, he seemed to hear The still, sad music of humanity. Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chosen and subdue. Softly, almost stealthily, the moon came up over the hills; her silvery beams danced from a million tiny snow crystals and everything stood out with cameo-like distinctness; once more the earth was light. Leonard Bradt, ' 17. The Christmas of Two In a rich man ' s home the mother was putting a little boy to bed, telling him of Santa ' s coming with many toys for him, and how in the morning he would awake and find all these beautiful and costly things. In the poor man ' s home the mother was singing her little boy to sleep, telling him that Santa would not stop, but they had a present. Then she told him of the Christ child ' s birthplace and said he was their present this Christmas day. R. S., ' 20. Page twenty-three

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DECEMBER INDEX FOR NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN formed during the night in the holes which he had chopped the day before. A willow has been frozen into the ice beside each hole and slants out over it. From each of these willows a line, on the end of which are two hooks baited with minnows and spread apart by a wire, extends down into the water. The first line had been placed in a shallow spot and a bit too near the bottom, for the drag on it proved to have been produced by a lizard, called, in the common vernacular, a mud-puppy. The Boy disgustedly snaps him off from the hook, re-baits it and lowers it into the water again, being careful to shorten the line a bit before leaving for the next hole. It had been an intensely cold night and the fish had moved into the deeper water, so the next line, which had been placed in a deep hole, has something on the end of it which pulls and jerks as no lizard has ever been known to do. The Boy, carefully pulling in the line, sees a dark shape below the hole and the next moment throws a pike out upon the ice, its yellow sides glistening in the sun as he flops convulsively, only to slowly stiffen and freeze, for fish freeze quite readily in very cold weather, and, if they are placed in a pan of water and allowed to thaw out, will swim about as lively as ever, apparently none the worse for their experience. Through the ice at the next hole the Boy could see the line stretched taut and twisting and circling under the ice. He chopped excitedly at the ice, and, the line released, the willow bent in a graceful curve until its tip touched the water as the finny prey made a frantic rush toward the deepest hole in the bayou. With an excited gasp the Boy seized the line and allowed the fish to swim about until he was exhausted and could be brought into sight below the hole. Bending over the hole, he caught a glimpse of a long black, shadowy shape as the frightened fish darted away in another vain attempt to escape. But! Scaly shades of Isaac Walton I There were two of them! He forgot everything but the sight of those two black shapes in the grey-green water below and frantically pulled them through the hole and threw them out upon the snow, a huge wall-eyed pike and a long, graceful pickerel. Now he did not stop to re-bait the hooks, but hurried on to the next hole, and the next, until all had been opened. Then he hurried over to the grove of willows on the opposite bank and sought for dry branches. With the aid of the bottle of kerosene hidden at the foot of the huge willow in the middle of the thicket a fire was soon blaz- ing cheerily. Kerosene is the surest means of starting a fire with snow- incrusted, frozen wood, and it is rather annoying to nurse a few sparks to a feeble glow when one ' s hands and feet are wet and cold, and the temperature is several degrees below zero. The Boy warmed himself and while eating his lunch contemplated the morning ' s catch, seven pike and the pickerel, which hung from a nearby Page twenty-t% ' 0

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DECEilBER INDEX FOR NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN Reflections of a Senior Oh, happy days at Oshkosh High, How soon they pass away. Could we but check the hands of time, And thus prolong our stay. We ' ve worked to make our school clubs rise With the best we had to give Oh, may they ever keep the heights. Wherein success shall live! We cheered the boys who won us fame With spirit that made them win, ' Tis this that makes us reluctant to leave. And our work in the world begin. O High School, dear old Oshkosh High, Recalling by-gone years. We feel both joy and sorrow, now. As graduation nears. An Eventful Ride FOR several days we had been trying to induce father to consent to drive to Madison to the Chicago-Wisconsin football game, which is usually considered one of the best games of the season because for many years there has been much rivalry between the two universities. We had about given up all hope of going when Saturday dawned, warm and sunshiny for a day so late in October, and father decided to take us. Hurriedly packing what lunch we would need on our way, we started; father, mother, my younger brother, and myself. As we stopped at a garage to have the tires pumped up to ninety, and to get enough gasoline to last us two hunderd miles, it was about a quarter to nine when we left Oshkosh. The first five miles on the Waupun road were as fine as we could wish them to be, but, before we had reached Rosendale, we knew that we would have to hurry in order to reach Madison in time for the game, because, on account of the recent rains, the roads were very muddy, and there had been no cars before us, so we had no ruts to follow. From Waupun to Beaver Dam the roads were fairly good, so we had a chance to do something besides hang on for dear life. Eugene and I, alone in the back seat of the big car. rattled around like corn in a popper. We stopped a few minutes at Columbus for a hurried lunch, and went on to Madison immediately. We made the whole trip of some ninety-five miles over terribly muddy, rutty roads in four hours. Pagre t venty-four