Spencer High School - Spencerian Yearbook (Spencer, IN)

Page 28 text:

--w--W ,, v--.. -- . -1- V . . , THE BOY NEXT DOOR-Continued. the door, she saw a pair of chubby legs scrambling over the back fence, and lwell, there was almost enough cream gone to freeze a small boy like Billy! Quite a habit of borrowing things, had this lad, sometimes with, sometimes without, the consent of the owner. I have known a neighbor boy to stay at home all Saturday, because he could not find his coaster. It was not in its accustomed place that day, and yet the next morning the sled would be hanging on the back porch as if it had never been usurped. At such times we always felt sure that Billy had been at his tricks again. But when I think of this Billy, brimming over with mischief and fun, the feeling of resentment against his many pranks is softened by the knowledge that, with it all, he was always willing to do what he could to help othersg and, though he was very trying at times, everyone loved him because he was generous and whole-hearted. Like Poor Peter, he could not resist a joke, but he was the best fellow that ever was. The Dead Sparrow. TRANSLATED 'BY CLIFFORD HALLEY, '13. The following lament for Lesbia's sparrow, written by Catullus, who lived a little span of life from 87-54 B. C., is here respectfully re-dedicated go gil the Lesbias in high school who have cried their eyes out over dead ir sz Mourn, O Venuses and Cupids, and whatever men there are of refined graces! My sweet-heart's sparrow is dead-the sparrow of my beloved, which she loved more than her eyes, for it was lovely and knew its mis- tress as well as the girl knows her mother. It did not move from her bosom, but hopping now here, now there, chirped continually to its mis- tress alone. Now it goes yonder along that gloomy way whence no one is permitted to return., But a curse upon you, black shades of Orcus, that devour all delightful things! You have borne away my sweet sparrow! O dreadful deed! O poor little sparrow! By your work my sweet-heart's dear eyes are now red and swollen with weeping. ' Woman Kind. JUNE Maman, 15. Our old Mother Nature is always busy, Changing things till it makes one dizzy, She never gets through with her blowing and growing, And where she will end there is no knowing. 26

Page 27 text:

On My Way To School. JUANITA BAUMGARTNER, '15. As I was strolling down a side street on my way to school one warm spring morning, I passed a large colonial house covered with green vines. An old-fashioned garden, merry with bright flowers lay on one side, on the other were trees and a cozy summer-house, in the door of which I spied an old lady knitting. ,ln order that I might more closely observe this in- teresting picture, I walked along very slowly. The old lady had snowy white hair which waved about her face. Her eyes were blue and her cheeks a delicate pink. Every few minutes she gazed eagerly down the street as if looking for some one. On her perfectly poised head she Wore a white lace cap, trimmed with lavender ribbon. Her dress, too, was lavender, around her throat was a white kerchiefg a small white apron helped to soften the picture. I thought at once of a beautiful painting I had seen of a dear old Puritan dame. As I turned the corner, the coun- tenance of the dear old lady brightened perceptibly, and I noticed a chubby, golden-haired, rosy-cheeked tot of about five years come running up. Dramma, drammaj' he shouted, I tum to det my tookies l And the dear old lady surrendered the contents of her spacious pockets to him. The Boy Next Door. LULU WAMPLER, 'l5. I remember that in a town where we once lived we all had somewhat of a horror of the boy next door. Not that he ever did anything really mean, but the many pranks he played on us and on other long-suffering families, portrayed a never-subsiding mischievousness. His ingenuity along that line was marvelous. One did not have to live by him more than a month to find him a careless, care-free, impetuous boy, brimming over with fun and spirit. You could see it in the sparkling of his blue eyes, and in his breezy way of saying Good morning. The abundance of light brown hair, which curled around his forehead, was usually bushed up from hastily pulling off his cap. His mother told me that he had a most unaccountable way of wearing out stockings and trousers, and his father marvelled at the pairs of shoes his young son could get away with in a year. One never considered it quite safe to leave anything of value on the back porch. Whenever Billy found anything in his neighborhood that was not fastened nor too heavy to drag away, he generally considered it his property. If it were a strap, he would have it around his dog's neck, leading him all over town, if it were a base-ball, he would be getting up a game with his neighborsg or, if it were a pair of skates, he would be skating down town to get the mail. I remember one time in particular we had company to dinner. The ice cream was in the freezer on the back steps, All went smoothly till Mother went to get the dessert. Just as she opened 25

Page 29 text:

The Narrows. l ARTHUR WELLS, '15, At the first bend ofthe railroad, a short distance east of Spencer, we find what is locally known as the f'NarroWs. It is so called because here, there is barely room for the railroad to pass between the high, thickly- wooded bluff' and White River. Near the top of this cliff is a narrow ledge of rock called the goat's path. From here one can see the river flowing peacefully and gently in its bed, a source of comfort and pleasure. As the warm afternoon sun beams down upon the water, it sparkles as if the surface were covered with thousands of diamonds. But suddenly the tranquility of the scene is dis- turbed by a loud rumbling, looking to the north we see a cloud of smoke, and almost before we are aware of what is happening a freight train goes whizzing by far below. But the rattle and roar soon die away, and once more we find the usual serenity. Far up the railroad we soon see an object moving slowly toward us. As it draws closer we observe that it is some Weary Willie who is mak- ing his way to the village with the idea, no doubt, of getting a hand-out and, perhaps, lodging from some of the good housewives of Spencer. But now somewhat refreshed after the fatigue of hill-climbing, we arise and wend our way carefully along - the ledge, noticing 'with interest the little pockets and projections. These hollows are favorite haunts of the weary pedestrian, who can here build a fire and spend a night by its cheerful light and warmth. On reaching the end of the Hgoatls path, we ascend to the top of the hill from which we can see the beautiful river valley below. Two farmers with their teams, returning from their day's labor in the fields, remind us that it is now near the close of day. 'Looking farther to the west We see the cozy little town, nestled among the green hills, the houses partly hidden by the foliage of the great elms and maples. The beautifully colored west- ern sky and the sinking sun complete the picture.. As we descend and near the rail- road once more, we see a band of section men pass on a hand-car on their way home. All of these things again remind me that it is near night-fall, and I must not tarry longer, but hasten to my home in the near-by village. 27 ' ------ A