Spencer High School - Spencerian Yearbook (Spencer, IN)

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A Failure in Courtship VVALTER CLARK, '13. ' V It seems that my life is not filled with a great store of humorous happenings, or else, being both by nature and by choice, rather melancholy, I have overlooked little touches of humor that have been dealt out to me here and there. Nevertheless, I recall one instance which may be con- sidered amusingg though at the time it was certainly otherwise. This was my first attempt and my last, for that matter, in the art of courtship, or, in the old rural dialect, Hsparkingf' The incident happened in this way. Across the neighboring fields there lived a country maiden, who had completely captured me. I was charmed by her subtle power, and made no effort to free myself from her peculiar magnetism. It was the one aim of my life to pay her my respects g and so I determined one Saturday -I never shall forget the day-to call the following Sunday evening. Sunday came at last and I arose early, after a sleepless night, to begin my much-neglected toilet. After working faithfully for half the day, fitting to my neck the only collar in my possession, one much too high, and adjusting myself to my Sunday coat of two summers before, and much too short, I struck out across the fields at a brisk pace, with my head full of castles in Spain that were doomed to fall in a miserable heap. The smoking ruins of burning Troy were small compared with the tremen- dous pile of air-castles that fell that day with the setting of the sun. While I was in the midst of pleasant reveries, the cozy farm-house appeared in view, and in the doorway stood Mollie looking for me, no doubt, for, as I well knew, she expected my arrival. She was not the tall and slender creature of romance, nor had she the transparent com- plexion of which poets make so much, but she was rather short and thick, with sunburned face, and hands that betrayed the milk-maid. I strode up to the door, bold as any knight that ever wore armor, and after a warm greeting was led across the threshold into the parlor. At that instant my courage sank within me. Never before had I realized that it took courage to be alone in the parlor with one's lady-love, and that that type of courage was the one thing of all others that I lacked. The very house seemed rocking on its foundations. Struggling for self-control, I staggered to the seat she offered, but attempting to sit, missed the chair. I arose quickly, however, and seating myself cautiously before that ca- pacious fireplace, looked for comfort in those inspiring flames. But without avail! My feet were,much too large, my hands looked big and red, and were terribly in my way. I sat and tried to think of something nice to say, but like Aeneas, my voice stuck in my throat, and I remained as dumb as stone. She talked interestingly, I suppose, for half an hour, endeavoring to soothe 'my disturbed mind and nerve-wracked system, but finally, tired of her monologue, she arose with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and whisked out of the room, saying that if I had come to see her Ma and 17

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OVER THE HILLS-Continued. grove, where he likes to play with other rabbits on moonlight nights, and will soon be looking at you from a patch of dead grass, near where he arose. Did you know that the rabbit is not nearly' so wise and cunning as his cousin, the squirrel, nor yet so friendly? When a squirrel scolds from the fence, the road ceases to be dusty, or the woods to be lonesome. You know that log road that leads back along the ridge! About two hundred yards up the road is the edge of an oak and hickory grove of great stalwart trees, now so scarce in our forests. 'Once I was sitting on a stump in this grove, dreaming of the time when the Indian glided stealth- ily through the woods in quest of more stately game than remains here now. Far down the river valley I could hear a freight train puiing wearily toward towng now and then a humming sound came to my ears, as the saw bit into a log at the mill. All at once I was abruptly awakened from this reverie by a sound from behind. I could not have been more startled if one of those Indians, noiselessly creeping up, had suddenly announced his presence by a war-whoop! I jumped down from the stump and wheeled around. Nothing in sight! Again the sound! That was mysterious to be sure! I looked up in an oak, there I saw a squirrel, running excitedly along a limb, his long tail curved over his back, and his teeth showing in angry fashiong he was scolding at my intrusion on his grounds. On my nearer approach, the reckless fellow rushed madly out to the end ofthe limb and jumped. I started to where he should alight, but no need of that, for springing to a neighboring limb, he ran down to the trunk and disap- peared in his hole. . Well! here we are on the hill above the river! I see you looking at that wedge outlined against the sunset sky, slowly pushing its way southward. That is the wild duck going to his winter home. As we go along the river, we shall probably scare one up. The duck deserves his name, for he either passes squawking over your head, or sees you as you turn the bend in the river, and flies off leaving purple ripples on the dusky water of twilight. But no wonder at his tirnidity! A hundred guns bang at him as he flies along, kin in the water may prove to be decoys and he is shot down. Each year the wedges are getting smaller, the shadows they cast do not darken so much earth. Will it ever be that they will cease to waken us at night as they fly over, or cease to prophesy spring or winter? Let us go down the railroad track toward home. We have seen but a few of the things. Some night we may see the dull old 'possum that stays in the hollow tree above Fall Creek, nor have I shown you the leaning sycamore on which the coons play. We shall walk along the bank and see the water moccasin half hid in the drift-wood and foam, see the minnows dart at our shadows, probably surprise a mink getting his noon- day drink. Let us enjoy all this while we can. The woods are being cleared out more and more by the spoilers. Some day we shall not hear the Bob White call, or be startled as we flush a pheasant. Then we shall long for all these things, but they will be gone. 16

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-- V .--.,...,n5... .W A FAILURE IN COURTSHIP-Continued. Dad she would bring them in. Suddenly, my feet grew light! I did not wait! I rushed from the house into the open air, the very tonic I needed. I Walked 'homeward with bowed head, as Napoleon from Waterloo, but unlike the Man of Destinyv my rising glory had been crushed in my first attempt. I needed no one to tell me, however, that the beau was not in my field of action, and down deep in my heart I even congratulated myself that I had escaped before things had come to a more dreadful crisis. One Thing at a Time. RUBY HICKAM, '13. One of the most amusing incidents of my life occurred when I lived on a farm about seven miles south of town. When I say amusing, I mean to other people, for to me it was anything but humorous. It happened on a lovely day in June, when nature combined all her charms to lure one out of doors. I was no exception to the ordinary mortal, who prefers the open to the narrow gloomy house. So selecting a book from the row on the table, and going outside, I sat down on a bench beneath a big elm. I had become absorbed in my story, which chanced to be Mrs Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch, when one of our horses came grazing about the lawn. He finally walked directly up to me and knocked the book from my hand with his nose, then he looked at me as if he thought he had done a good deed and deserved a reward. Suddenly the thought came to me that I might read while sitting upon the horse's back, so I immediately jumped on and resumed my story. Billy grazed about snatching a bite here and there where the grass seemed greenest and tenderest, while I paid little attention to him. Evidently he saw a particularly green patch some few feet away and on the opposite side of a clothes-line which bisected the back yard. He immediately started to get it, and wasted no time, for my sake, in going around such minor things as clothes-lines. The first intimation that I had of Biliy's desire, was when I felt a sudden shock in the vicinity of my neck, and found myself sailing off into space. After what seemed ages, I hit the ground, which in that particular spot was very hard. I sat perfectly still for a little while. Then I stood up. Billy, munching his grass, turned around and stared at me, with an expression that plainly said, What an idiot! Finally, looking about, I found my book in the fork of a plum tree. I limped into the house vowing never again to ride horseback, and read at the same time. 18