Yeatman High School - Yeatman Life Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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N' ' 1 ' ZllllZf'Z 7 W , , 'L W L, I Ei! f'W2 if f f A- A . , iQff5ff1iI.1f:f::f,.. .',, f'f,Qi21111111Qif3.f.fgfl':f.ilpjifjflflfjiffiijfi,.jfff houses. Her journey across Ohio, past the vineyards of Pennsylvania, across the Appalachians, and clear to New York was comparatively uneventful. She arrived in New York the second week in October. She stayed about two weeks and then started for home the first of November with her money. The days were beginning to be short and dreary. Grandmother' hurried Dobbin as much as she could. The first three weeks passed without hap- penings. One day about three o'clock in the af- ternoon it began to snow. Grandmother was just passing through some thick woods, and the wind howled fiercely through the trees. She hurried Dobbin forward. Soon the bits of sleet and snow were sting- ing her face as she drew her cloak closer a- round her baby. She heard the wolves howling through the storm as she urged the horse on. Finally the snow became so thick that she could see nothing. She slackened the reins and let Dobbin take his own way. After what seemed hours to the tired, cold woman, Dobbin turned into a gateway and stopped in front of a huge barn. In answer to the Hulloo which grandmother managed to call, a tall, kind-faced farmer came from the house with a lantern in his hand. He helped her, half-frozen, from her horse, and led her in- to the warm kitchen, where his smiling, bright-eyed Wife helped her remove her wraps and warm herself and the baby. The storm raged all night and grandmother stayed at the farmhouse for almost a week before the roads were fit to travel again. Three weeks later, on a bright December afternoon, Grandmother Ruth turned into the lane that led to her home. She was not alone, because some of the kindly neighbors whose houses she had passed had come with her to help her and to wel- come her. When they came within sight of the house, they saw grandfather rush out to meet them. He lifted grandmother Ruth and baby Sarah from the horse and welcomed them joyously. As they turned to go into the house, the slanting rays of the setting sun fell across the little house that they called home Turning her face toward the rosy west, grandmother Ruth said, John, I don't think a sunset ever Was, or ever will be, as gorgeous as this one is.' ' There, child, I hope I haven't tired you with my tale, but when I get started on that story which shows so well, the wonderful courage, and indomitable spirit of the pioneer women of America, I just can't seem to stop. Come now, the light in the west has faded, and we must go do up the chores. Brought back to the present from the wonderful past in this manner, I sighed and rose to follow him. eq ssafl' Q rg, 591 ' ,J 5, 1 ra Q-,fa C an if. f x ..e .. ' Page Ffly

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' , . f f wff :fyf Qf,...- ,f J 574 Iwi? 2 ,, LQ Air. J 5021, tw ex ,f,, .M 40, W f WWQ w, ,, HW, 'zz ,,, 5,3 GRANDMOTHIiR'S SUNSET LOUISE MAGOON It was June, and the sun was setting in all its glory over the western hills. Uncle Jim, is there anything more beautiful than this sunset? I asked, turn- ing to the fine, old gentleman at my side. Well, my dear, every evening when the sun goes down, it seems as if no other sun- set has ever been so beautiful. I'm al- ways reminded of the story of my grand- mother's sunset. ' Your grandmotherfs sunset? What' do you mean? I asked. It's a pretty long story, but I never tire of telling it, if you want to listenf, So the dear, old gentleman lighted his pipe, settled himself in his rocking chair, and began: My mother told me when I was just a boy. 'Twas August, 1800 that my grand- mother made her trip. She and grand- father had come to Indiana from New York in a covered wagon with two teams of oxen. Their earthly goods consisted of some scant house furnishings, some provisions, their oxen and wagon, a horse, and a few dollars in cash. They came to Indiana and set- tled in the Ohio valley on a government grant. There they built a tiny log cabin, and worked hard to cultivate the farm and make a living. On the fertile Indiana soil it wasn't hard for an enthusiastic, steady fellow like grandfather John to get ahead. They developed a good farm and soon be- came trusted people in the country a- round. One day the mail carrier who delivered mail about once a month, brought a letter from New York to grandmother Ruth. Amid great excitement, she opened the letter and read it. It was from a lawyer telling her that an uncle of hers had died and left her a thousand dollars. The mon- ey would be given to her if she would come and sign some important papers that could not be intrusted to the uncertain mails of that day. After the excitement caused by this let- ter had subsided a little, the question arose as to how grandmother was to get to New York. The only means of traveling in those days were by the stage coach or by horse-back. There was no stage-coach line near their home. so that way was im- possible for her. The only way left was to go on the back of Dobbin, the strong, trusty horse. To a modern woman this seems impossible, but to grandma Ruth, a strong, capable,pioneer woman, it didn't seem such an overwhelming task. It was absolutely necessary to go, because in those times a thousand dollars seemed a fortune to Indiana farmers, and the folks could use it well. There was nothing to fear from the In- dians at that time. There were only friendly ones along the trail because the hostile tribes had been driven far north in a recent raid. It was not without pangs of uneasiness and self-reproach, however, that grandpa consented to let her start on this six hundred mile journey. To make it even harder for grandma, baby Sarah was only a few months old, so she had to be taken along. Monday morning, the tenth of August was set for her departure. Early in the morning, just as the sun was rising, grandfather put the side saddle on Dobbin and strapped grandmothers bun- dle to the saddle. After bidding good-bye to the neighbors who had come to see her off, she kissed her husband good-bye, and let him lift her on- to the saddle. After one of the neighbor women had handed baby Sarah to her, she started on her long trip. She traveled in the daytime and stopped at farmhouses at night. In good weather she sometimes rode twenty-five miles a day. On rainy days and on Sundays she stopped at farm- Pngi' l m'.1-x--.Yfbzf .,,y.

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f f ,f f 4. l 1 zfwwyfffiwmf Vw 41:7 Www 1' . rv J ,X fy., mmf Af.. ,, , 5 f, : 4:if,ffLff'fffg,g,W ' A 5 f ., , f, M , W A 1, ,i 4 f I , .4 A .5 mf . , ,, ,J HEARTS AND CLUBS ERNEST Fox Peter Outt was a forlorn man. Why? His wife refused to look after his food or his house. She refused, in fact, to admire him. In other words, she was too busy attending the Ladies Home Auxiliary of the D. A. F. T.--Martin Greggschnapperls Enlightening Views on Sociology, Madame Justine's Better Homes Class, etc. etc. It was one club after another. And, to hear Peter tell it, he was the joker. But joker no more! and he slapped his knee so hard that he winced from the pain. Frank Goodwyll and Louis-Louie-Jen main sat in the soft upholstered chairs at the club and listened, at first sympathet- ically, then, as his story unfolded, almost eagerly. Peter was older than the two Hboys , as he was wont to call them, but he just had to tell someone about his troubles. And, as he thought for awhile afterwards, to whom could he have told them better, for Frank immediately found a plan to put an end to all this gosh darned nonsense! What was that plan? Bust up the clubs? Lock wifie in the house? Divorce? Oh, none of these rash acts! In fact, it was something very good, er--novel. And,', rather triumphantly, I'll bet it works! from Frank. Louie was somewhat dubious. Peter was very dubious. Frank, however, like the king in The Lady or the Tiger, grew more enthusiastic in the face of oppo- sition, and he waxed eloquent in praises of his plan. In the end he convinced the two doubters. It's rather a case of extremes, don't you think?', asked Peter. Well! Don't she need extremes? asked Frank. ' tOh, I--I--well--I suppose you are right-- only it would really scare me to death. Tish! Scare to death! Why, man, it'll only wake her. Now, honestly, wonyt it?' ' Well--er--I guess so--Yes, it wouldfl So the plan was completed, a date was set for its execution and the conference was over. A few days later, after he had locked his desk, Peter washed up a bit and left the of- fice. If it had been any other night, he would have hurried to the station in order to catch the five-eighteen. Now, how- ever, he sauntered through the hurrying crowds, for on this night he would take the six-four. It wasn it his exact choice but--. Having reached the station, he looked about him. 'tH'm, fully an hourfs wait. Well,-- just then spying a chair, I might as well sit down. Long time to wait. Funny they run two trains to Halsbury every night--and just for commuters--like my- self! Well, I'm not the only man from the suburbs. Let 's see the paper. H'm, cloudy tonight--State income for the year-- what! Why--'Two practical jokers se-, verely fined,'--gosh! Can't read! Might take a walkf' He rose and sauntered out onto the re- sounding pavement. A cabman noting his approach opened the cab door inviting- ly, a newsboy nearby volubly shrieked bits of headlines, people brushed passed him, but he walked on seemingly oblivious to these things. UCrowds! Crowds everywhere. Men, women, girls, all--all going home to hot suppers and--I wonder--are they? That fat man in the Bessecks Eight--is he--Y Ridiculous--this ravingfl He walked to the next corner, turned, and went on. At five minutes to six, he again came to the station, boarded the car for Halsbury and again invited thought. I 'rzgr lfrflrv-O21 u