Salem High School - Lyon Yearbook (Salem, IN)

Page 73 text:

-fi-ls W -won' 1 gl was always surly to new souls. It's al- ways nigl1t down here. At this juncture Mercury, who had settled himself on the bank for a nap, jumped to his feet with startling sud- denness. Oh, gosh, he groaned. Jup- iter's calling me again. Such a life! And he was off on the road to the upper world. Give us your flashlight, C. W., so Mr. Smith can sign up, said Charon. Sign up? queried the timid one. Yep, said Charon, producing a de- tachable leafed notebook and fountain pen. So you can be investigated, you know. No use to forge it either: they've got your signature over there. Why ju.st last week at soul tried to pass himself off as Rockfeller and turned out to be a boot-black! With nervous fingers Mr. Smith wrote the appallation his unsy-mpathetic par- ents had best-owed upon him, and watch- cd t.he boatman fold the slip and place lt in a hitherto-unnoticed container on a wire. Why, exclaimed John J., it's just like the cash system in a department store! But where do the wires go? Over the Styx, of course, said the Confirmed Wanderer. Plubo has a desk there, and as fast as messages come in he turns 'em over bo his assistants,- souls of income-tax experts and they look up your record, decide where you belong, and send the work back to Char- on, here. Then he takes you to your future abode. Efllciency, what? But Mr. Smith was troubled. In the excitement of being dead for the flrst time, he had forgotten that he would be judged for his misdeeds. His brow was damp with fear as he tried to think whet.hcr there was anything particular- ly awful. Don't take it so hard, old boy, said the Wanderer not ungently. Ive been through it too, you know. And where, w.hispered the new soul hoarsely, where were you sent? No place, answered the Wanderer calmly. U. B. ..U-- .. ? Pardon me underworld slang for Un- buried, explained the other. I wasz fishing in the royal fish pond and I fell! in. And as the king had a grudge a- gainst me he wouldn't let them get me out. Souls ef unburied people can't cross the Styx. you know. So I've been wan- dering around on this side of it ever since. Which kind was ir? ' Really, I've forgotten, he sighed. It was all so long ago. But I think it was Ramesesf' Tough luck! said the newcomer, touched. Are there any others like you? Heaps. But it's not so bad. For one thing, we get to watch all the new souls oome in. And we play tennis across the Styx with the souls in Elysium. Could- n't quite make baseball. Basemen com- plained they got rheumatism standing in the water. I say, here's your message. A tremer of fear shock the unhappy Mr. Smith as 'Charon calrily put on his glasses and unfolded the fateful paper. Yours of the thirteenth February, nineteen fourty-four, received, he read. In regard to aforesaid John J. Smith would say '-um-um-' moral charac- ter not bad as a whole, but once put a button in the collection plate. The cold chills ran up a'nd down Mr. Smith's spirit-spine. However, that might pass.-hey, what's this? Charon adjusted .his spectacles. Mr. Smith was in such agony that his mouth opened and closed helplessly like the gills of a flsh. On the fourteenth day of April, nine- teen hundred and twenty-four, the a- foresaid John J. Smith, being then a student in Salem High School, ran all IPage sixty-sevenl

Page 72 text:

-A-In iw 'WON' wi A S tygian Conversation QNight Musing s ofa Vergil Studentj Say, Charon, remarked the Confirm- ed Wanderer, What d' you know- there's a new soul coming up the road. YVonderful, said the aged boatman, who was putting a new seat in his skiff. A particularly fat millionaire-soul had broken one on the last trip. Wonder- ful! There .hasn't been a time in the last seventeen thousand, eight hundred and sixty-one years when I couldn't see a new soul coming up that road. Very novel sight. But this one's such a greenhornf' persisted the Wanderer. Keeps looking around at the rocks like he never saw any before, and'-say! if he gets that mouth any wider open he'll swallow you and your boat in one gulp! Wait till he's been dead a couple hundred years, said Charon wisely. He'll be sick of underworld scenery by then. These new birds always make me tired. Why, t.hey don't know the A. B. C's. of being dead! Always asking so 'many questions- What's the name of this river? Who's the fellow that brou.g.ht me drown, here? Where do I go next? Somebody ought to publish a guide-book zto the underworld, up there. Well, you know that guy Vergil did try to once, the Conilrmed Wanderer reminded him. That was 'way back when Cerberus was only a pup. But he didn't get everything quite straight. Yep, answered Charon. I wish somebody would write us up right. F'r instance, people wonder how we get around ln the dark. Simps! Don't they know Plubo furnishes Hash-lights? Here's Mercury, he continued as the new soul and its celestial conductor ap- proached the boat, guided by the rays of Mercury's light. Lo, Merc, the Confirmed Wanderer greeted him. How's every little thing? Punk, said the lanky youth with the winged sandals. If the boss don't quit working nie so hard, little Mer- cury's gonna. be absent next time Vulcan calls the roll. Fact is, I've had an offer --of course this is strictly contldentialf' Of course, said the Confirmed Wan- derer. -from the Western Union, and I'm thinking of accepting it. t He won't, remarked the Wander- er. He's too fonl of Jupiter's brand of nectar. b I didn't mind personally conducting dead souls to the underworld so much when there were only one or two a day. Mercury continued, but what with the speeders and moonshine and people try- ing to swim across Niagra-gosh! Well, I don't envy you your job, ad- mitted the Confirmed Wanderer. But introduce your friend to us --pointing to the newly arrived soul standing agape in the background. Pardon me, yawned Mercury. This is the soul of John J. Smith, of Salem, Indiana, U. S. A., Upper World. Mr. Smith, meet Mr. Charon, head oi' the szeamboat line on the Styx. And this gent came here so long ago that we've forgotten his name, but we call hi-m the Confirmed Wanderer. The most conflrmedest one of all, so to speak, muttered the Wanderer, who was quite chummy with the soul of Shakespeare. G-glad to meet you both, chattered the timid Mr. Smith, regaining his voice for the first time since his entrance to the lower regions. Nice day, lsn't lt? I don't know, growled Charon, who IPage sixty-six

Page 74 text:

tw rafiir' an the way down the stairs of t.hat school! 1-or which sinful deed he is hereby con- signed to the deepest dungeon of Lartar- us, there to be,.haunted by perpetual visions of stairs. Oh, spare me, groaned the victim. By order of QPLUTO, finished the in- exorable boatman. But I don't see how they knewfl tell you, Mr. brooks was NOT looking that day, cried the unfortunate soul. O Charon, have mercy. Sorry, replied Charon, as he took off .his glasses and put them away. Orders is orders. Hop in the boat and make it snappy n0W. I see Mercury bringing an- other soul up the road. With his groaning passenger, the an- cient one rowed away over the black waters toward Lartarus, where sins are expiated. From the plaintive voice of Mr. Smith- Don't row so fast. It makes me sea-sick! Far up the road came the gleam of Mercury's flashlight. Death, observed the Contirmel Wanderer philosophically, is just one darned soul after another! Virginia Crim '24 Johnny- '-'Aw, say fellers where's Johnny Walk- er? yelled Sam Holden, as he came out of the woodshed with an armload of wood, Ain't he come yet? Naw, said Sid Wilson, First thing he knows he'll lose his reputation of be- ing called Johnny-on-the-Spot. I don't think he lives up to it anyhow. I bet he's afraid to come, said Jim, You know the ot.her day a bunch of us fellers wus goin' on a possum hunt and what d'yu know, Johnny wouldn't put his foot outside the door cause it was dark He's scared stiff of the dark. Yep, said Joe Price, he owned up to me one day that he was scared in the dark. He's just a regular, Fraidy-cat. Well, come on fellers let's go on, said Sid, lf we ain't here when he gits here I guess he knows where to find us. And so they started on. The gang as they called themselves were going skat- ing on the pond down in South Meadow. When the pond was reached the boys found the ice in a flne shape and so in the fun Johnny-on-the-Spot was forgot- ten. As darkness fell they began to think of returning home before supper. Let's go by the short way? said Sam, I know the way and we can get home quicker. ,V So all agreed. But, we're dependin' on you to show us the way, said the others. They preceded over the rough, snow- covered fields. It was getting to be very dark and a strong wind was blowing. Say, I wish Johnny was here, said Jim, Wouldn't he be scared? Finally they came out gf the rough ground into the road. Over there's the railroad fellers, said Sam. 071 -the-Spot Above the turn of the railroad was a large boulder and suddenly as the boys came around a bend in the road, a flgure stood up on the top of the boulder. Look, there fellers, whispered Sid. There's a man on the top of the rock. 'tGee, whispered Joe. I'll bet he's a, tramp waitin' to catch a ride on the next freight. Say, let's run. And run they did. Then as they came nearer they heard some one shout, He1p! Help! What's the matter? yelled Sam. , Oh, so its you fellers, answered the voice and from the group below came the astonished exclamation, Johnny Walker! Well I'll be jiggered! And in a moment Johnny was with them. Say, fellers he cried breathlessly, When I was goin' to the pond I found a broken rail and was a waitin' to stop the train. Just then the shrill whistle of the train was heard in the distance. The boys dashed up the track, shouting and waving their caps. The engineer know- ing that something was wrong brought the train to a stop and came running toward the boys. He listener. to their sim-ry and the grateful passengers poured out their thanks to the have .tn-l several dollars was made up for them. Say, fellers, I take that all back what I said 'bout Johnny Walker the other day, said Joe Price, as the gang was gathered on Sam I-Iolden's woodpile, several days later. An me to, said Jim Allen, John- ny's a real sport that's what! You bet he is! yelled every boy on the woodpile and so Johnny Walker's name ever since has been Johnny-on- the-Sp0t. lPage sixty-eightl