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High School 
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By Roswell Standish Nothwang 



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Mlglhi i A®®! ScrnlblbMM 

A Collection of Youthful Short Stones 
and Other Writings 



■By 



ROSWELL STANDISH NOTHWANG 

Editor-in-Chief of the L. R. H, S. Tiger 
Fall Term, 1916 



Published by the Author 



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Copyright 1917 by 
ROSWELL STANDISH NOTHWANG 



MAV 28 1917 



©Ci,A462702 

IN-FOSTER PR 
Little Rod 

"H-o ( 



JORDAN-FOSTER PRINTING CO. 
Little Rock 



I 



T® Lo lo Mo So 

A WORKSHOP of knowledge for most, 
A playhouse of frolic for some, 
Where mingle the poor with the rich, 
The better, the good and the bad, 
All thrown in together and stirred. 
A meltpot of humanly ore. 
Where iron and the steel and the tin 
Are wont to be welded in one, 
And each to imbibe of the rest. 
To this institution of note. 
To good, to the bad, and to all. 
To L. R. H. S. as a whole, 
This booklet with love is inscribed. 




HE stones and other writings herein 
contained I offer without apology. 
They are good — I don't have to 
prove it — I admit it. What they are 
good for, however, I do not know. 
1 offer them in this manner purely 
as a personal enterprise — an enterprise backed by a 
desire to gain a higher education than the one from 
which I have just been graduated. In vulgar par- 
lance, I need the money, and money is a strange and 
elusive thing. I have taken this way to earn some 
of it for first year college expenses. (Your half-dol- 
lar is greatly appreciated.) 

Again I state that the booklet makes no claim to 
literary attainment. The stories are not the work of 
a genius, nor even of an "author," but are only bits 
of effort, immature offerings from boyhood's ill- 
guided pen. 

R. S. N. 
May 10, 1917. 



C(n)init@]nit§ 

Heads or Tails? 7 

Letters to 'Tinky*' 13 

As the Sun Sank 30 

A New Year Resolution 32 

The Adventure Magnum 33 

The Ringings of the Bell 35 

My Perfect Day 36 

Aunt Molly at the Meet 38 

The Feather From the Sky 43 

Christmas and the Head of the House 48 

The Kidnaped Pitcher 50 

A Member of the Brotherhood 62 

The Voice of the Age 64 

High School Life 68 

The Toll 97 



UmdB w Tank? 




A Story of the Boy Who Played With Fortune and 
What Became of Him. 

;HE night was cold and misty. Thru 
the fog the red, green, and yellow 
lights of the railroad yard showed 
dimly. The rumble of an approaching 
train was heard, gaining in volume un- 
til it reached a roar, and then, passing, 
gradually died out in the distance. 
Rows of dark, dismal box cars lined the network of 
tracks, forming dark alleyways, with sheer walls ris- 
ing fifteen feet high on either side. 

Overhead the fog showed a dull gray, covering every- 
thing like a wet blanket, impenetrable at twenty feet. 
It was a bad night — this night. The kind of night 
during which subtle changes take place in the hearts 
and lives of men, and about which the old practical 
world knows nothing, but goes stumbling blindly on- 
ward in its deadly strife for this life's bare necessi- 
ties, its ears unopened, unheeding to the call of romance 
that fills the very air. 

Thru one of these dark alleyways a brakeman came 
plodding out of the mist, swinging his lantern and in- 
specting each car as he passed along, opening the door 
a little way, flashing his electric torch around the bare 
walls in a half-hearted manner, closing the door with 
a slam, apparently satisfied that no tramp was housed 
there intending to steal a ride. His mind was not on 
his work — not this brakeman's. He was thinking of 
the wife and the child at home, the home he would see 
on the morrow; and so, his mind filled with thoughts 
that carried him a hundred miles away, the brakeman 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



shuffled on to the next car, his bulky form swallowed 
up by the curtain of mist. 

Then another dark form came stealing out of the 
whiteness. This one carried no lantern but stole silently 
along, crouching low and pressing close to the wheels of 
the cars. Pausing opposite the car the brakeman had 
just left, this form straightened up and glanced around 
uncertainly. 

''Doesn't make any difference, I suppose," he mutter- 
ed; ''Just so I keep moving. Wish t' God I'd never 
left home." 

Then he shook himself. "Gettin' sissy already, are 
you. Max? You're a fine runaway, you are — and 
you've only been out one night. Anyhow, it's too late 
to go back now. Shall I get in this car or that one 
over there? Guess I'll flip up and see. Tails I get in 
this car, head I get in that one across th' aisle. Here's 
my last dollar. It's too dark to see so I guess FIl have 
to feel." * * * 

"Ah," he exclaimed, bending low and feeling the 
coin. "Tails — no, by Heck, it is heads. Over into the 
other car I go." 

'Twas the hand of Fate. Had tails been on top, I 
would have a far different story to tell — and a much 
longer one. But it was heads that came up — heads — 
that side of the dollar that personifies Liberty, and over 
whom is the motto, "In God we trust." 'Twas indeed 
the hand of Fate. 

The young man — for 'twas but a boy that crouched 
there that wintry night — moved across the narrow 
alleyway and pushed back the door a little. Even as 
he pushed, he heard the screech of an engine's whistle ; 
the car gave a rough jerk and then the freight was 
under way. With a spring, the lad bounded into the 
narrow opening he had made, turned a somersault into 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



the car and shut the door. He was going — going — go- 
ing where ? 

"Well, me bouy," said a pleasant Irish voice in his 
ear, "you got in all right, did you?" 

The lad started. It is no pleasant thing to have a 
voice speak out at one suddenly from the darkness. 
"Er — are you the brakeman?" he stammered. 

"0' course not. Th' brakeman wuz here a few min- 
utes ago. Faith, and if he'd a-turned th' loight an inch 
more this way, Oi'd have bin in the spotlight for sure. 
Holt still there ! I want t' see what yez look loike." 

The next instant a match flared up, casting its yel- 
low glow on the two men. The Irishman saw a tall, 
well-dressed youth of seventeen or eighteen, with good 
features and a pair of eager blue eyes. 

The boy in his turn looked into the twinkling blue 
eyes of a strong, well-moulded young man of thirty- 
five with an habitual one-sided smile on his clean shav- 
en face, which, like the boy's, was framed with a dirty 
slouch hat. 

"Take off yer lid, son," commanded the Irishman, 
when he had surveyed the lad from head to foot. The 
youth removed his hat, exposing a crop of hair that 
v/as of a decidedly fiery shade. 

"Begorra!" ejaculated the man, "an' if he ain't a car- 
rot top. Well, me buoy, yez ain't got anything on me," 
and he jerked off his own hat, uncovering a growth that 
put the lad's hair to shame and made it turn a dark 
brown in comparison. 

The match went out, leaving the two in darkness 
again. 

"Me bouy," chuckled the Irishman, "if yez ain't 
Oirish, Oi'll eat moi hat." 

"You're right," said the boy simply, still bewildered 
by the suddenness of it all. 



10 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

**Two Oirishmen in a box car," chuckled the man, de- 
lighedly. **Did yez ivver hear th' loikes? Faith, now, 
and wot th' divvil did yez want t' run away for, Maxie ?" 

''You know my name?" asked Maxie quickly, very 
much surprised. 

'*Yis, that Oi do. Begorra, it's a bad habit you've 
got, talking t' yerself that way. Oi wuz near th' door, 
thinkin' maybe th' brakeman ud come back, when 
yez come strollin' along. So you've only bin out one 
noight, eh?" 

"Yes." 

''And yez wisht yer hadn't left?" 

"I — I guess so." 

"Then whoi th' divvil don't yez go back." 

"It's too late now." 

"That it is," laughed the Irishman, "but there's 
nuthin' to prevent ya from goin' back in th' mornin'." 

-I mean " 

"Oi know what yez mean, me bouy. Let me tell yez, 
son, it's nivver too late to make amends — but that's 
no reason yez should put 'em off until th' last moment. 
Faith now, and what did yez run away from ?" 

"N— nuthin'." 

"Aw, tell it t' Sweeney. We gotta do sumpthin' t' 
pass th' toime away. Come on, let's hear yer tale o' 
woe." 

"Well, in a few words, I fumbled in a football game." 

"An' is that all?" 

"Is that all? Why, man alive, it was everything 
to me! We lost the championship by it. Is that all? 
It's enough! It's disgraceful, sir!" 

"Tut, tut, me bouy. After all, 'twas only a game, and 
should be looked upon as sich. You young sports take 
the stunts too seriously. It's the good loser that's th' 
man. Vqu say it's a disgrace. Yis, so 'tis, in a way. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 11 

but runnin' away from it is far worse. Gi'm disap- 
pointed in ye, me bouy. Oi thought yez said yez were 
Oirish." 

*'I am," asserted the lad. 

*'Yez air not," snapped the Irishman severely. 
"What'll yer fayther think?" 

"I — I didn't think about that part of it," said the 
boy, beginning to see things in a new light. "I just 
grabbed the first freight that came by, and left. It 
stopped at Fort Smith — the town that had just won the 
State Football Championship — and I got off to get 
something to eat. When I came b?vck, it was so dark 
and misty that I couldn't find my way to the freight I 
had just left so I got on this one. I don't know where 
it'll take me." 

"Yis, that's just loike you red-headed youngsters, ye 
nivver think until it's too late. That's woi Oi am here, 
only Oi didn't run away from a trifle of a football game. 
There wuz a woman in moi case, son. But there's no 
use a-talkin' about that. Let's get this thing straight- 
ened out. Faith, now, where did yez say this hap- 
pened ?" 

''At Little Rock," came the reply in sleepy tones. 

**At Little Rock!" exclaimed the man. ''Begorra, 
how — nivver moind, me bouy. Oi won't bother yez 
iny more. Oi'm sleepy, and so air you. Go t' sleep, son, 
and think it over — think of th' chance you're losin' for 
makin' good." With these parting v/ords, the Irishman 
turned over on his side, and after a few mysterious 
chuckles fell asleep. 

But not so easily his youthful companion. For a 
long time he lay there listening to the grinding of the 
wheels, thinking deeply. However, when he did finally 
go to sleep, his mind was made up. What a fool he 
had been! 



12 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

The gray light of dawn was creeping thru the cracks 
in the old box car when the Irishman next awoke. The 
train was still moving and the car swinging steadily 
from side to side. Stepping lightly over the sleeping 
form of his companion, our friend made his way to the 
door of the car. This he opened and peered out cau- 
tiously, gazing with familiar eyes on the retreating 
scenery. When he shut the door a smile was on his 
face. 

**Oi'm right," he chuckled deep down in his throat. 
" Tis a lucky thing for th' boy that heads came up last 
night. That other train went West. This un will pull 
into Little Rock in fifteen minutes. Begorra, did yez 
ivver hear th' loike uv it? Faith, now, an' Oi nivver 
did. 




(By *The Bashful Soph.") 

,UTHOR'S NOTE. — We were never 
friends — "Pinky" and I, altho I wanted 
to be — terribly. As I knew and loved 
her, "Pinky" was an attractive girl of 
the extreme brunette type with deep 
brown eyes which laughed, appealed, 
flashed fire, attracted and repelled by 
turns, and sometimes in the short space of five minutes. 
Like many, I was deeply smitten — like many more — 
turned down. She quit school — a Freshman — before 
the first letter to her was published, altho she received 
a set of the Tigers in which they were printed after the 
entire series had appeared. My many efforts to force 
myself upon her were met with refusals, and jilt follow- 
ed jilt until at last my affections began to subside, and 
they finally were allayed altogether. Her identity, for 
obvious reasons, cannot be disclosed here, altho it was 
published at the time and created some comment. 
Here's to "Pinky" — may God bless her!" 



I. 

PICKED UP IN THE HALL. 

EDITOR'S NOTE.— The following love letter was 
found in the hall by one of the Tiger staff. We hereby 
print it in the hope that the writer may turn up. The 
original will be given back to him, if he will call at the 
Tiger office. No questions asked — except, "Who is 
Pinky?" 



14 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

At Home, Little Rock, Ark., January 14, 1915. 

Dear Pinky: 

Hello, Sweetheart. Didn't think I'd gone back on 
you, did you? Well, not yet! It's been quite a while 
since I wrote a letter to you, hasn't it ? Do you remem- 
ber the last letter I wrote to you ? No ? I don't sup- 
pose you do, for I didn't send it to you. I burned it, 
and this one will meet the same fate. 

You see, it w^ould never do for me to write letters to 
you in reahty, would it? So I just write down on a 
piece of paper what I would like to say to you sometime. 

"Pinky" — do you notice the nickname I called you? 
How do you like it ? Don't like it ? Now, that's too bad. 
I think it just fits you, too. Won't you please let me 
call you 'Tinky," just me? Please! Oh, thank you! 

Pinky, do you remember that dream I wrote out for 
you? You never did tell me whether you liked it or 
not ; I guess it made you mad, tho, for you didn't speak 
to me for several days. Won't you please forgive my 
silliness? I'll promise not to make a fool of myself 
over you any more — altho somehow I just can't help it. 

Pinky, are you always as you are v/hen I see you? 
I have never seen you but that you were happy and 
vivacious. I am glad, for it really would hurt me to 
see you sad. You were born to be happy, and to make 
others happy. Just a look from you makes me so hap- 
py that I even pity those who think they are happy. 

Pinky, I wish I knew you better, but I guess I never 
will. To m_e you will always be a pleasant, happy dream 
that never came true. 

It seems a shame to burn such a nice composition, 
doesn't it. Pinky ? But I guess I'll have to do it, for if 
this ever came to your eyes you'd never forgive me, 
would you ? Your devoted slave, 

"THE BASHFUL SOPH." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 15 

NOTE. — Don't forget to get next month's Tiger. It 
will contain, besides a lot of other good stuff, another 
letter to unknown *Tinky" by the mysterious "Bashful 
Soph." These letters are the ''find of the year." Don't 
miss them, 

"JIMMIE" APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 

At Home, Little Rock, Ark., February 10, 1915. 

My own little Pinky : 

Pinky, I wonder what you are doing to-night? At 
some party, I suppose. What am I doing? Oh, nothin'. 
Just writing this little note to you. Of course, you'll 
never see it, for I intend to burn it as soon as I have 
finished it, but I just must find a way to express my 
deep regard for you. 

To be sure, I haven't known you very long, have I? 
I wish you had been here last year. I might have 
known you better by now. Or I might not have known 
you at all, for I didn't take German last year. "Tamper 
not with circumstances, for her Ladyship, Fate, knows 
what is best." I'm not such a bad philosopher, am I? 
But I am getting away from my theme — you. As I 
was saying I haven't known you so very long, but in the 
short time I have, I have grown to love you. No, I don't 
mean that ; I loved you the first time I saw you. 

Pinky, did you read that letter I wrote to you last 
month which was printed in the Tiger? I told you I 
was going to burn it, didn't I? So I was, and I was just 
putting the match to it when the editor of the Tiger 
comes up. 

" 'Ello, Jimmie," I sez. 

"'Ello, yourself," he sez. "What's that?" he asks, 
looking suspiciously at the sheets in my hand. You 



16 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

know Jimmie's awfully spry about hunting food for the 
Tiger, and I believe he smelt good stuff in that letter. 

''Nothin'/' I answers, ''just an ole fool letter I wrote 
to a girl." 

The match in my hand went out, and so my letter was 
saved from the flames for the time being. 

"What cha gonna burn it for?" asks Jimmie. 

''Oh, just for fun," I sez, "ya know I'm kinder shy 
about sendin' it." 

Just then Jimmie has an idea. "Lemme read it," 
he sez, "maybe I kin put it in th' Tiger." 

Now I had a good idea myself. Sez I to myself, "the 
ole thing ain't no count, anyhow, I'll jis let Jimmie 
have it, and then when he sees it ain't no good he*ll 
chuck it in th' waste basket, an' that'll be th' last uv 
it. 'LI save me a lot uv bother, too." 

Just then th' bell rang, and I sez, "Here Jim, you kin 
have th' ole thing. It ain't no count anyhow." 

So Jimmie put it in his pocket, and that was the last 
I saw of it until I got the Tiger last month and began 
to read it. You can imagine my surprise when I saw 
my own written words staring out at me from the 
printed page. I never did have anything printed be- 
fore ! I suppose Jimmie was a trifle absent minded the 
day the Tiger went to press. Anyhow it's been printed, 
and everybody's talking about it and wondering who 
you are and who I am. 

I hope they don't find out. Jimmie knows who I am 
but he says he won't tell, and what Jimmie says GOES 
— and spell it with capital G. I don't care if they do 
find out who wrote the letters, but if they ever find out 
who I wrote them to, I'd never forgive myself and you 
would never forgive me either, would you, Pinky? 

Did you notice how Jimmie fixed that letter up, tho ? 
The title he gave it ! "Picked Up in the Hall" and that 



HIGH SCHOOL S CRIBBLINGS 17 

nice little note telling how one of the Tiger staff picked 
it up, and how the original would be returned to the 
owner if he'd only call at the Tiger office ! 

Isn't Jimmie shck, tho? That was the only way to 
fix it so people would read it, for who likes to read a 
love letter, except the fellow who wrote it and the girl 
he wrote it to ? 

Well, Pinky, I just wrote this letter to tell you how 
that other one came to be published in the Tiger, so I'll 
ring off. Yours in thought, 

^THE BASHFUL SOPH." 



To the Readers of the Hisrh School Tiaer : 



jgii kJV.iivr«^i -^*t5' 



Don't fail to get next month's Tiger and read the 
third letter of this remarkable series. They get better 
all the time. Back numbers of the Tiger will be sold to 
all who come to the Tiger office on the second floor. 
Read these letters and try to find out who *Tinky" and 
the unknown **Bashful Soph" are. We don't know, do 
you? 



III. 

"BOOSTIN' FER TH' TIGER." 

EDITOR'S NOTE.— Here's another of those mighty 
interesting letters written by "The Bashful Soph" to 
the unknown *Tinky." Whoever the writer of these 
strange letters is, he evidently wants to boost the Tiger 
all he can, for — but read the letter. 



At Home, Little Rock, Ark., March 15, 1916. 
Dear Pinky : 

Did you ever hear the like? Everybody's talking 
about "Pinky" and wondering who the "Bashful Soph" 



18 HIGH SCHOOL SCR IBBLINGS 

is. Isn't Jimmie slick tho, the way he puts those nice 
little notes before and after the letters ? He's got every- 
body talking about *Tinky." 

I even heard you talking about "Pinky" and won- 
dering how any fellow could have the nerve to write 
letters to a girl thru a pubhc paper like the Tiger. And 
you didn't know that you were the girl all the time. 
Ha ! Ha ! Excuse me, Pinky, I'm not laughing at you, 
but all this strange popularity has turned my poor little 
head. Won't you please forgive me? There, that's 
my own dear little — Pinky again. I almost wrote your 
real name then. That would never do would it ? 

Do you know it was the funniest way that second let- 
ter got in the Tiger box out opposite the bulletin board 
and so to the Tiger himself. You see, I wrote it at 
home but for some reason or other I forgot to burn it. 
And then one day, happening to put my hand in my 
pocket, I found the letter. 

You know, I always stand near the Tiger box and 
watch the pupils walk by. You've seen me there lots of 
times. Well, I was leaning against the box reading the 
letter when that Jucksh boy — he's the yell leader in 
your class — bumped into me with considerable force 
and knocked the letter out of my hand. And would you 
believe it. The old thing dropped right thru the slit 
in the box, and I couldn't get it out. 

I hung around there until Jimmie comes by, and 
then I sez, 

"Jimmie," I sez, "will you unlock th' Tiger box for 
me ? I accidentally dropped a letter in there, an' I can't 
get it out." 

"What? A letter!" sez Jimmie surprised like, "what 
kind uv a letter?" 

"Yew know that letter I give you last month," I 
sez, ^'well, this un's sorter like that only dif-runt." 



HIGH SC HOOL SCRIBBLINGS 19 

"Yes ?" sez Jimmie, and I saw his eyes light up with 
a greedy glare. Jimmie sure keeps good care uv that 
ole pet Tiger uv his'n, when ya come t' think about it. 
*'Well," he sez, "I'll unlock th' box, young man" (he 
thinks he's awfully old — an' I 'spect he is) "but th' pore 
Tiger's been gittin' kinder skinny o* late, so I'll jes' 
keep this t' feed the Tiger." 

That, Pinky, was just the way it happened. I'm aw- 
fully sorry, and I'll see that this one doesn't go to make 
the Tiger a meal. 

I never saw people start talking about anything 
quicker than they started talking about these letters. 
A lot of people who thought they could get along all 
right without making the acquaintance of the Tiger 
have been running up to the Tiger office to get back 
numbers since they found out how good and fat he's 
getting to be. 

I tell you a lot of people in this dear old L. R. H. S. 
don't know what they are missing when they don't get 
the Tiger. Not just because two of my letters have 
been in it, but because there is other things just as 
good or better. 

Mr. James H. Penick, the editor-in-chief, says, "A 
High School Tiger should be in the home of every L. R. 
H. S. pupil. I hope to live to see that time come. Fel- 
lows, don't forget the advertisers." 

Well, Pinky, I got started off on those fool letters 
and I forgot to tell you how much I loved you. Will 
this do? If I were a centipede and had a hundred 
mouths and a hundred arms I would like to put each 
arm around you and kiss you a hundred times with each 
pair of my ruby lips, and when your father found me 
out, I would use my hundred legs to run. 



20 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Well, goodbye, Pinky, for this time. I'll write you 
again soon. Yours 'till eternity, 

'THE BASHFUL SOPH." 



NOTE — Fellows, the next issue of the Tiger is the 
last of the j^ear. Be the first one to get one and see 
what "Bashful" has to say about it to "Pinky." This 
letter is the best and longest letter that has appea e • 
in the series — over a thousand words. Think of it! 
One thousand words of humor, love, and a good les- 
son in loyalty, besides other special features, all for 
ten cents! 



IV. 
ONE MORE SHOVE. 



NOTE— Here we are, the latest "Pinky" letter. Read 
this last letter and see "Jimmie" the savage news-gath- 
erer at his best. Hurry up! Don't stop to read this 
little note! 



At Home, Little Rock, Ark., April 10, 1915. 
Dearest Pinky : 

Well, Pinky, this is the last letter I can write you 
this year so I guess I'd better make it rather long — 
about a thousand words. Will that do ? You don't care ? 
Now — what's that? I can write a million if I want to? 
Oh ! Thank you, but I guess I'll cut it short and make 
it only a thousand. 

Pinky, school's almost over, isn't it? Aren't you 
glad? I am, only I'll miss you during the summer. 
You'll soon be a Sophomore, won't you ? I'll be a Junior. 
My ! How time does fly ! 



HIGH SC HOOL SCRIBBLINGS 21 

Pinky, I'm awfully sorry about that third letter. I 
really, intended to burn it up. I had that letter in my 
pocket waiting for a good chance to burn it, when Jim- 
mie, th' editor of th' Tiger, strolls by and grabs me 
by th' lapel o' my coat. 

"See here," sez he, callin' me by name. I could see 
tears in his eyes. **See here," sez he, **th' pore Tiger's 
nearly starvin'. The next issue after this un '11 be th' 
last uv th' year," he sez, "and what am I gonna do? 
They've went an' put all th' good stuff in th' Cage." 

Sez I, "Now, looka here," I sez, "they are putting it 
in th' Cage to feed th' Tiger on when they put him in 
the Cage." 

"Yes," sez he, "that's so, but they don't put 'im there 
until after th' last issue. So that ain't gonna do us any 
good." The pore boy was almost cryin'. He goes on 
t' say, 

"We gotta have a fat Tiger this month," he sez, 
lookin' at me hopefully, "I won't let 'em put my Tiger 
in th' Cage when he ain't fat. Why, th' pore beast 
'ud die." 

"That's so," I sez, lookin' kinder sad, "but I don't 
see how that concerns me. I'm yer friend, Jimmie," 
I sez, "an' I'd like to help ya if I cud, but I can't." 

"Yes you kin," sez Jimmie, gittin' kinder excited. 

"What's this," I sez, "me help you? Nuthin' shakin', 
bo. I can't write no stories." 

"Yes you kin," repeats Jimmie, "why you kin write 
like old Burt L. What erbout them two letters," he sez, 
lookin' at me viciously. He had his hands crossed an' 
a-holdin' on t' th' lapels of my coat, an' when he said 
this, he began pullin' each toward the other, an' if it 
hadn't been for my hand standin' (collar) he'd uv 
choked me clean senseless. 

"Oh, them?" I sez, when he'd let up a little, "them 



22 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



wuz just accidents. Th' pore innocent Tiger ate them 
accidently/' 

**Naw, he didn't," Jimmie sez, lookin' kinder hurt, 
"I know good stuff when I see it," he sez, 'Tm th' 
Tiger's keeper an' I fed 'em to 'im. Y'orter have seen 
him gobble 'em up, tho," he sez. 

**Well," I sez, kinder givin' in — Jimmie's awfully 
persuadin', you know — "what kin I do for you, me 
man?" 

"You kin write that 'ere Tinky' of your'n another let- 
ter, an' make it longer. Th' stujents," he sez, "are just 
clamorin' for more. So's th' Tiger." 

"Well," I sez, takin' out th' letter I had in my pocket, 
"I got th' ole thing already written, but I don't think 
Pinky ud Hke t' have it in th' Tiger. You know girls 
is awfully shy about their love letters." 

Here Jimmie began to cry sure 'nuff. We wuz 
in th' basement an' nobody saw him. Nobody but me 
cud have told he wuz cryin' anyhow — he cries so nice. 

"D — don't I know," he sez. "Look at Mary — but 
man alive," he cries in dispair, "look at th' pore ole 
Tiger. He's got t' be fed. Where's ya school spirit, 
man ? Where's ya loyalty ?" 

By this time he had me crying' too. I couldn't stand 
it no longer. "Here, Jim," I sez, puttin' th' letter 
in his hands, "feed it t' th' Tiger. I know Pinky won't 
care when I tell her how it happened." And you don't, 
do you, sweetheart? 

Jimmie sez th' student body should not be so sel- 
fish, and for them to put things in the Tiger — and he's 
right, too. 

"Next year," Jimmie sez t' me, "th' Tiger's gonna 
be so fat th' Cage can't hold him." 

"Maybe," I sez t' him, "th' pore beast'll die uv indi 
gestion." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCR IBBLINGS 23 

**Never fear," sez Jimmie; ''Anyway," he adds, "I'd 
rather for him t 'die uv indigestion than starvation." 

Pinky, I thought Jimmie was going to put my third 
letter in the last issue of the Tiger, but when last 
month's Tiger came out I saw my letter. I went to 
Jimmie about it. 

"See here, Jimmie," I sez, "I thought you wuz gonna 
save that letter I give you, for th' Tiger's last meal this 
year." 

"So'd I," he sez, "but — well, ya see it happened in 
this manner: I got your letter last month on th' very 
day th' Tiger went t' press. He looked skinnier than 
ever to me then so I just put your letter in with th' 
rest, an' — an' there ya are." 

"I see," sez I, "but whater we gonna feed th' Tiger 
next month?" 

"That's so," Jimmie sez. "Ya gotta write that er 
Tinky' one more letter. Quien sabe?" 

"Yeth," I sez, "but what amer gonna write." 

"Well, ya been tellin' her how th' precedin' letter got 
in th' Tiger, ain't you ? Well, tell er how th' third got 
in. An' that stuff erbout th' Tiger an' me is fine. 
Spread it on thick." 

"All right," I sez, "but how'm I gonna teller how 
th' last letter got in th' Tiger?" I sez. 

"Oh, ax me sumthin' easy. Just tell her I axed ya 
t' give it to me and that'll be all right. She won't 
care. An' say! Don't forget to tell her not t' forget 
that every Freshman must buy a Cage !" 

And so, Pinky, I'm going to give him this letter so 
the poor Tiger can have at least one square meal before 
she's put on cold storage. 

Pinky, count the words I have written. Think of 
each as a kiss and a hug. That ought to be enough 
love for this letter. Well, good-bye. Pinky, 'till next 



24 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



year. Hope you have a pleasant vacation. I am going 
to miss you very, very much. 

Your devoted slave, 

'THE BASHFUL SOPH." 



AUTHOR'S NOTE— The foregoing letters were all 
written at one time and dropped into the Tiger box in 
a like manner. The little notes before and after them 
(which I also wrote) are part of the idea, and are here 
reproduced for that reason. By some mistake in the 
editorial office the last two letters were printed in the 
next to the last issue of the Tiger. I then wrote "Who 
is Pinky ?" which followed in the next issue. The mys- 
tery regarding my own identity was cleared away 
when it was announced that a story written by "The 
Bashful Soph" had won second prize in the Cage Short- 
story Contest, and that I was "The Bashful Soph." 



WHO IS PINKY? 



AUTHOR'S NOTE— With the mystery concerning 
the identity of "The Bashful Soph" cleared away, an- 
other and more interesting mystery remains — the iden- 
tity of "Pinky." "Who is Pinky?" will solve this 
mystery. The author wishes to apologize sincerely to 
James Penick and Gus Ottenheimer, as well as to 
"Pinky" herself. He realizes that he really should 
never have written this story, but — well, I had it on 
my mind, and I had to get it off. 



In a stuffy little room sat two persons. Between 
them stood a flat table covered with paper, pens, ink 



HIGH SC HOOL SCRIBBLINGS 25 

and other essentials necessary to the editing of a mag- 
azine like The Tiger. One of the persons, a tall, black- 
headed youth, was busily engaged in wielding a serv- 
iceable-looking pen, while the other, a boy about two 
feet his junior, was glancing thru an issue of The 
Tiger. 

Suddenly Ottenheimer, the smaller one, looked up. 

**Sa-ay, Jimmie," he drawled, leaning back in his 
chair, 'Td like to know who this little Freshman is, 
whom this so-called ^Bashful Soph' is raising all this 
talk about." 

James Penick looked up from his writing. 

"So'd I, Ottie," he remarked, laying down the pen, 
"if there is such a thing." 

"Such a thing as finding out ? I'll bet " 

"No ; such a thing as Tinky'." 

"Huh!" snorted Gus. "Ye gods, man! didn't we see 
th' 'Soph' buy a box of candy last Sunday?" 

"Yeth." 

"And didn't he look kinder funny when he saw us 
looking at him ?" 

"Yes, but that's no sign he sent the candy to th' girl 
he calls Pinky." 

"'Who else would he send it to?" 

"Oh — well — a — a — I guess you got me, Gus. You've 
clinched the argument like you always do." 

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Ott, rising suddenly 
and overturning a pot of ink, "I thank you." 

"No offense intended," said Jimmie. 

"Eh?" and Gus collapsed. 

"Wouldn't it make a great hit with everybody, tho," 
said Jimmie, "if we could find out who this Tinky' is 
and publish her cognomen in The Tiger?" 

"Sa-ay!" exclaimed Gus excitedly; "Now yer 
talkin' !" Then he suddenly shifted off to his imagina- 



26 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

tion. *' Tinky's' a pretty good name for a girl. Wonder 
if she's a blond or a brunette ?" 

*'Why, a blond, of course; who ever heard of any- 
body calling a brunette a name like that ?" 

**0h, I don't know. Seems to me the matter rests 
more with the personality than anything else. Now, to 
my mind " 

''Your mind " interrupted Jimmie scornfuPy. 

"To my mind," continued Ott, **to my mind, Tinky' 
suggests a dear little girl with a personality as sweet 
and delicate as the apple blossoms on a Spring day." 

''Hear! hear!" 

"Oh, be still ! Shall we find out who Pinky is ?" 

"We ought to be glad to know who 'The Bashful 
Soph' is. Good thing Anna Marie had that talk with 
him." 

"Sure it is; but 'all things that are, are with more 
spirit chased than enjoyed' " 

"Where'd ya learn that?" 

"That," said Gus flamboyantly, "was taught to me 
in the dim recesses of the past when I was a small 
Freshie." 

"A mental marvel!" ejaculated Jimmie. "You*re 
the first person I've met that ever remembered that 
stuff after the exams. Lots of 'em forget before then." 

"Quite a humorist, aren't you ?" asked Gus, sweetly. 
"But you see, it comes natural with me. I — but we are 
digressing. What I meant to say was that we should- 
n't rest until we've found out who 'Pinky' is. We owe 
it to the students." 

"All right, what do you suggest?" 

"Me? I suggest nothing. What do you suggest?" 

"Well, it seems to me the best thing for you to do is 
to keep your eyes on this fellow, and if you ever hear 
him call a girl 'Pinky,' report at once to headquarters." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIB BLINGS 27 

*'So you want me to take all the risk, eh, while you 
sit around and look on?'* 

*'0h, well, you don't have to do it, you know. This 
is on our own hook." 

''Well, I guess I'll do it," said Gus departing for the 
door. 

"Oh, say, Gus, just a moment." 

"Well?" 

"I wouldn't advise you to make yourself too con- 
spicuous. Use a little detective ability, you know." 

"I got cha, Steveadore. Sa-ay, I'm a detective from 
Riddlesburg ;" and Gus disappeared, closing the door 
after him. 

A moment later it flung open with a bang, and 
Ottenheimer's excited voice called out: 

"Oh, Penick! Penick!" 

"Well, what is it?" 

"What kind of a disguise would you advise me to 
wear?" 

"Aw, get out of here !" 
********* 

Just as Gussie was turning the corner by the Bulletin 
Board he ran square up against "The Bashful Soph." 

"Sa-ay," he exclaimed, grabbing the "Soph" by the 
arm as the drowning man is said to grasp the much ad- 
vertised straw. "You're just th' guy I'm lookin' for." 

"Well?" 

"You're The Bashful Soph?' " 

"That's what I call myself." 

"Good; you know this girl you have been writing 
to?" 

"Bashful" nodded. 

"Well," stated Gus with all the cunning in his nature, 
"there's some talk going around that there ain't no such 
girl." 



28 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

**But there is, tho," exclaimed Gussie's victim be- 
fore he thought. 

'That's just what I thought. Is she a Junior?" 

"A Junior! No, she is a Freshie." 

"All right," said Ottenheimer, "but just the same, 
there's a girl in the Junior class they call Tinky.' " 

"Sure'nuff?" 

"Straight goods.' 

"Gee," exclaimed B. S., "I didn't know that; I'm 
awfully sorry." 

"They do say as how she pert near had a fit every 
time The Tiger came out," continued Ott. 

"The Bashful Soph" laughed. Then Ott put his ques- 
tion. 

"Sa-ay, what's this Pinky's real name? Huh?" 

"Aw, gee whiz, Ott, have you got it, too? About 
fifty people have asked me that question. Some of 
'em thought they knew, too. What cha want to know 
for?" 

"Oh," said Ott, "I got orders from headquarters." 

"From Jimmie?" 

"Uh, huh." 

"Well, I'm gonna tell you just what I've told a lot 
of others. You get next month's Tiger and you'll sure 
'nuff find out who Tinky' is. I got th' story all writ- 
ten out but I haven't put it in yet. S'long, Ott." And 
"The Bashful Soph" moved over to the Bulletin Board. 

"Wonder if he'll do it," said Ott rather discouragedly 
to himself. 

Idly he gazed over the posters on the board. Then 
he observed something which made him step across 
the hall to be within hearing distance. Beside the 
"Soph" stood a girl. Ott saw the boy glance around 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 29 

nervously, and then heard him whisper in the girl's 
ear: 

"Hello, Pinky!" 

And then from the way a pair of dark brown eyes 
flashed and the disdainful look that came from them, 
Ottenheimer gathered that *Tinky" didn't relish her 
name or "The Bashful Soph" either. 

"Sa-ay," asked Gus of a boy standing nearby, "who 
is that girl standing over there?" 

"That un right there?" 

"Yes, but hurry up, man!" 

"Oh, that's . Why?" 

But Gussie Ottenheimer, his curiosity satisfied at 
last, was already on his way to headquarters. 



As th© Senu Emmk 




;HE young commander ceased reading. 
Slowly and impressively he folded the 
official document, snapped a rubber 
band around it, and placed it in his 
breastcoat. 

'Trisoner," said he to a tall young 
man who faced him a few yards away, 
''you have heard your death sentence. Tried by court 
martial and found guilty of spying within our lines, 
you have been sentenced to be shot at sunset. The sun 
will set in five minutes. Do you wish to say any- 
thing?" 

The prisoner looked coolly at the line of soldiers lined 
up twenty paces away, turned slowly toward the com- 
mander, and said: 
''Nothing, sir." 

A dead silence fell over the group. All eyes were 
turned toward the sun, a glowing ball of crimson flame, 
its edge just dipping below the distant horizon. The 
commander searched the prisoner's face closely. Not 
a trace of fear or weakening could he find there. 
Something large and choking welled up in his heart 
for this handsome prisoner so near his own age. He 
admired his courage and self-control. 

When only half the sun remained above the sky line, 
the officer jerked impatiently from his cuff another 
document and began to read: 

* * * " 'Only upon one condition can the prisoner's 
life be spared: that he expose the person or persons 
thru whom he must have gained the valuable informa- 
tion found on his person. If said prisoner complies 
with this condition, he will be held as a common pris- 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 31 

oner to be exchanged with others at the close of the 
war. If, however, he does not do this, he shall be 
executed as elsewhere ordered." 

The commander glanced at the prisoner. ''What 
have you to say now, sir?" he asked crisply. 

And the prisoner answered slowly and distinctly: 
"Sir, my information was obtained by reading the 
signs of a secret code. Who gave the signs I do not 
know. Even if I did know, I could not betray him. 
My country has chosen me for this work, and, Captain, 
as long as I live I shall continue to work in the interest 
of my country. I may be a spy, but I cannot be a 
traitor. You may shoot at sunset." 

A murmur of admiration arose from the watching 
squad. The captain sprang forward, his hand ex- 
tended. 

"I love a man," he said simply. "Will you shake 
hands with me?" 

Their hands met. 

"You'll forgive me?" 

The prisoner's voice choked. "Yes. It's your duty; 
it's my fate." 

The shadows lengthened ; the sun had set. 

The captain drew in his breath. "You'll be blind- 
folded?" he asked. 

"I'm no hero," answered the prisoner. "Yes, I'll be 
blindfolded." 

"Guard, attention!" rang out the captain's voice, 
when he had blindfolded the prisoner. The twelve men 
stiffened. 

''Ready—" 

"Take aim—" 

"Captain !" The prisoner's voice. 

The captain turned. "Well?" he asked. 

"The locket? You'll remember?" 



32 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

'Til remember/' 

''God bless you. I'm ready. Mother, Tm coming 
home." 
And then the squad fired. 

That night the captain sat up late at his "desk" in 
his tent until the candle burned low. In his hand he 
held a little heart-shaped locket. * * * And as he 
gazed upon that sweet, girlish face, her eyes turned 
so trustingly toward his own, the captain muttered, 
"It's murder — but it's war." 




A NEW YEAR RESOLUTION. 

|ESOLVED, To better myself morally, 
mentally, physically, and socially. Let 
Health be my watchword — health of 
mind and health of body. To keep my 
body clean and my conscience clear ; to 
broaden my mind as I broaden my 
back ; to deepen my thought as I deep- 
en my chest; to strengthen my principles as my mus- 
cles grow strong. Though I be swift of foot, let my 
brain be swifter. Let red blood surge through my body 
and gentleness fill my soul. To speak evil of no man, 
nor hear it spoken. To harm no one, not even myself, 
and to benefit others. To remember that wise men 
sometimes change their minds, but a fool never does. 
To practice conservation and yet to be generous. To 
have nerve, though not too much, and yet no nerves 
at all. To remember that I am one and one is much, 
and yet is only one, and is not all. To attain strength 
— strength of mind, strength of character, strength of 
body. Let my heart be soft unto gentleness, though 
my biceps be as hard as nails." 




|E was quite a small tot, and he had to 
tiptoe to push the button. Far over 
his head he heard the ringing of a 
bell, and then followed what was to 
him an almost interminable wait. 

The tall fat man who stood inside 
the door, and smiled, and told people 
things, had told him to press the button and something 
— it sounded more like ''alligator" than anything else — 
would take him where he wanted to go. He wanted to 
get a cap, and he was going alone. He was mighty 
proud of it, too. 

And so he pressed the button. He was standing be- 
fore an iron cage which ran all the way up to the ceil- 
ing. There were a whole lot of the cages all in a row. 
They reminded him of the cages at the Zoo, only those 
at the Zoo weren't quite so high, except, maybe, the one 
for the giraffe. He noticed two great big blocks that 
were tied to ropes and hung on the wall go sliding up 
and down, and then he saw a nice little house slide 
down from the top of the cage and stop right in front 
of him. There were a whole lot of persons in it, and an 
old-looking boy in a blue suit and brass buttons, who 
stood in one corner with his hand on a funny little 
lever, sang out, "Main." Then he pulled the lever and 
the door in the cage popped open and all the people got 
out except the old-looking boy, who yelled, "Going up. 
All aboard." 

The little fellow got in, and two or three more people, 
and then the uniformed lad slammed the door and they 
were inside the cage. Even as the door closed, the 
youthful passenger was surprised to see the floor on 



34 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

the outside of the cage suddenly shoot down, while 
the cage remained still. He looked to see if the other 
passengers noticed this, but they all seemed unaware 
of it. 

The two men who had got in with a young lady, who 
had two pencils sticking in her hair like horns, took 
their hats off, and the young lady chewed gum and 
winked at the boy in the blue suit and brass buttons. 

Almost immediately after the first floor had gone 
by, a big hole went around them, and the boy saw a 
number **2" painted in white on a big, thick log. Then 
he saw a lot of counters and people hurrying by, and 
then another log. It had a number ''S" painted on it. 
All the time the little house stayed right in the cage. 
Once in a while the logs would stop going by and some 
people would get out, or some people would get in, or 
both. At these times the boy in the corner would 
bawl out, ''Going up!'' and say what floor it was, and 
then the logs would come by again, and the numbers on 
them kept getting higher and higher. 

Soon he didn't see any people or counters, but just a 
plain hall, with the wall right near the cage, and maybe 
a door in the wall. 

After a while the numbers got 'way up high — higher 
than the little boy could count. The people began to 
get out, and finally there was nobody in the little house 
but he and the old-looking lad. Then another log went 
by, and the latter sang out, "Twenty-fifth floor. Going 
down!" 

Then for the first time he appeared to notice the 
small occupant of the car. 

"Say, kid," he bawled out impatiently, "air ya goin' 
out on th' roof? Huh? Well, I don't go up there. 
See? Yul haf ter git out and walk up th' stairs th' 
rest uv th' way." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 35 

The little boy started. He had been thinking very 
hard to see what made the logs go by. 

'1-if you please, sir," he stammered nervously, *'I 
want to go to the Boys' Department. The man who 
rubs his hands and tells people things said it was on 
the second floor." 




THE RINGINGS OF THE BELL. 
A Farmer's Soliloquy. 

)UTSIDE my window, thru the clear 
tingling morning air, came the dull, 
persistent clanging of the breakfast 
bell which swung to and fro upon a 
high, white-washed platform. The 
bell rang, announcing a hot country 
breakfast. * * * 
Afar off o'er the country-side, I heard the ringing 
of the bell, dull, persistent, yet music to my heart. The 
bell rang, calling all the laborers to a bountiful dinner. 
I dropped my hoe and walked eagerly toward the 
sound. * * * 

Again I hear the ringing of the bell, more distant 
still, its harsh notes mellowed softly. It is night. The 
day's work is done. The bell calls us home again, 
home to supper and a night of rest. 

And between these ringings of the bell? We work. 
We work hard, toiling all the day. The result of our 
labor is not seen immediately, but appears from season 
to season. We raise our food. We make money to buy 
what we can not raise. This is what we do between 
the ringings of the bell. Work. The bell calls us to 
and from our labor. I love the work. I need the rest. 
That is why the ringings of the bell sound so sweet 
to me. 



[j Perfect Pay 

(In imitation to Milton's "F Allegro.") 

And up from my despised bed I sprang, 

At half-past five, as the alarm clock rang, 

And then, clad in light athletic wear, 

Down the vacant street I love to tear. 

Then to return with labored panting, 

A melody tunelessly chanting. 

Then off to the bathroom I dash. 

Singing a tune as the water I splash 

On the walls goes trickling down to the floor ; 

Running in streams it flows under the door. 

A breakfast to eat and fit for a king. 

What do I have ? Oh, most any old thing. 

The repast over, I then sit down, 

And on my lessons begin to pound, 

From half-past six to half -past seven; 

In this brief hour I'm in heaven. 

To dress and tie with care my bow, 

At last to school I gaily go. 

Where I love to stand by the wall 

And watch the crowds go thru the hall. 

I love to see the pretty girls. 

But view askance their home-made curls. 

I love to hear the quartet sing. 

And gladly hear the last bell ring; 

And e'en to hear the teachers say, 

"Roswell, you must stay in to-day." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 37 

Still I study, and if they knew, 
They'd give me cards of different hue. 
And when at three the rest depart, 
I go, too, tho it break my heart. 
And briskly I walk down the way 
To see what's at the Gem to-day. 
Thus at the show an hour I spend, 
And homeward then my way I wend. 
And there to read or walk around 
And sadly view the sun go down. 
Then at supper I love to sit 
And hear them laugh at my poor wit. 
After this the hours I love to spend 
In company with some girl friend. 
And when at last I homeward go. 
May the street cars be not so slow. 
That I may reach my bed with ease. 
And there to dream in perfect peace. 
Perhaps this is my ideal day. 
But in the morn I'd hke to say, 
"Ah, 'larm clock, if you'll ring no more, 
I with thee will gladly snore." 



Aiuiinit M,@llj at tin® 




[AND sakes, Sally," exclaimed Aunt 
Molly as she sank wearily into a large 
armchair, ''don't chew ask so many 
questions. Jist wait till I git these 
pesky things off, an' I'll tell you all 
about it. Goodness! I never dew git 
dressed up, but what I'm glad to git 
undressed agin! No, Cousin Roy didn't come home 
with me. He's a-comin' down next week with that city 
chum of his'n. Sally, dew pour me a glass o' water 
from that there pitcher, will you? Thanks. Yessir, 
I've been to that pesky thing that they call the State 
Track Meet, an' I wouldn't 'a' went, tho, if Roy hadn't 
kept a-pesterin' me. And land sakes! What a time I 
did have after I got there! 

"Now, yew jist wait. I'll tell you all about it if you'll 
only give me a chanst to catch my breath. 

''Well, the furst thing I did after I had got to Pine 
Bluff was to git on one of them^ little street cars they've 
got a-runnin' around th' streets to go out to where 
some one told me they was a-goin' to have all of them 
athaletic stunts. And of all the shakin'-ups, Sally, 
that one on that street car sure was th' worst. If I cud 
only git my milk there every Wednesday an' take it 
a-ridin' on one of them cars, it wouldn't need no 
churnin' by th' time that street car got thru with it. 
"But I was a-goin' to tell you about that meet. Well, 
sir, when I got off'n that car, I made my way down th' 
road a piece, a-followin' th' crowd, o' course, till I came 
to a big high fence that was built around a big lot. 
After a while I came to a gate in th' fence. I started 
to go thru, when a man stopped me an' said : 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



" Ticket, ma'am.' 

** *0h,' I says, 'I ain't got no ticket. How much air 
they?' 

" ^Grandstand, fifty cents ; bleachers, twenty-five,' 
says he. 

'* 'Bleachers ?' I asked him ; 'well, now, what might 
them be ?' 

'* *Do you see them benches ?' he says to me, pointin' 
to a long row of circus tent seats, 'well, them air th' 
bleachers. They call 'em bleachers because, not havin' 
any top on, they air bleached by th' weather. Now, 
madam, where do you want to sit ? I'd git a seat in th' 
grandstand if I was you. I don't think you cud stand 
th' hot sun in th' bleachers.' 

"Well, I got a seat in th' grandstand, right down on 
th' furst row, an' th' furst thing I saw after I'd sot 
down was a whole lot uv young fellers a-runnin' aroun' 
in their summer underclothes, looked like t' me. 

"After a while a man came down along in front uv 
th' grandstand, holdin' one o' those things that look like 
a graferfone horn in his hand. Every once in a while 
he hollered out: 

" 'All hundred-yard men git ready for th' dash,' 
whatever he meant by that. Then I saw about ten uv 
those boys line up about a block away frum where I 
was, gittin' down on their hands and knees. Somebody 
shot a gun an' up jumped all uv them boys, jist a-tearin' 
fur all they they was worth. Well, they hadn't no 
mor'n got started when they stopped, an' they carried 
them away all wrapped up in bath robes. They seemed 
to be purty well used ; but they cudn't have run more'n 
ten seconds. Well, th' little man came along an' hol- 
lered out a long string o' names an' numbers. Then 
everybody in th' grandstand an' out in th' bleachers 
tried their hand at cheerin'. Some yelled for Pine 



40 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Bluff, some for Little Rock, Texarkana, Hot Springs, 
Fort Smith, an' a whole lot uv others. 

"Well, after that I kind uv lost track uv what they 
was a-doin in th' runnin' line, but I began to notice a 
lot uv youths out in th' middle uv th' lot. There was 
one bunch that was a-throwin' a small size cannon ball 
tied to a wire. One uv 'em wud grab a-holt uv that 
thing, an' whirl it aroun' his head, an' then let it go 
sailin' thru th' air. It was a wonder they didn't kill 
■somebody lettin' that thing loose that a-way. 

''There was another bunch uv fellers who had built 
themselves a kind uv a rail fence out in th' lot. Well, 
they'd git about tw^enty feet away from th' thing, an' 
then they wud run an' jump over it an' land on a pile 
uv sand on t'other side. Well, I cudn't see no sense to 
that, anyhow. Why, they cud have walked under th' 
thing if they'd stoop a little, an' wudn't haf to waste 
so much energy. But they wudn't do it, an' kept on 
makin' th' thing higher all th' time. 

"Some more boys had another fence which was two 
or three feet higher than their heads. They jumped 
over this one with a long black and yellow pole. Well, 
I'll give 'em credit for jumpin' all right, even if some uv 
'em did knock th' pole down considerably; but if I'd 
a-wanted to git on th' other side uv th' thing, I'd a 
just walked under it. 'Taint no sense in wastin' so 
much energy when there ain't no call for 't. 

"Besides these, there was some fellers a-throwin' a 
big plate aroun', some a-shovin' a cannon ball thru th' 
air an' some more jumpin' as far as they cud. Every 
time somebody jumped, or threw, or did something 
else, a lot uv men, dressed up like men ought to be, 
wud measure it oif an' make a note uv it. Then th' 
little man wud come aroun' an' announce who'd wun, 
an' then everybody wud yell, but it seemed to me like 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 41 

Pine Bluff an' Little Rock was th' ones who did the 
most yellin\ 

•''There was some runnin' every once in a while, but 
I cudn't see as it did much good, for all they got when 
they stopped was to have somebody throw a blanket 
aroun' 'em an' carry 'em away. 

^ 'There was one funny kind uv a race. They put 
some little wooden things out in th' way uv th' boys 
who ran, an' everybody had to jump over 'em. The 
boys went as fast they cud, but if they wanted them 
to go fast, why did they put those wooden things in 
their way? There were a v/hole lot uv things, Sally, 
that I cudn't understand. 

"Well, I heard that th' next run wud be th' last thing. 
It was a mile run an' it seemed as tho it wud decide 
whether Little Rock or Pine Bluff wud git th' cham- 
pionship. I didn't exactly understand how it cud do 
it, but that was th' way uv it, anyhow. 

'*I was gittin' purty uneasy about Roy. I hadn't seen 
anything uv him so far, an' I began to think he wasn't 
goin' to run at all, altho I thought Little Rock ought 
to give him one chanst, anyway, after all th' time he 
spent in trainin'. 

'Tor this run th' boys lined up on th' other side uv 
th' track, so I cudn't see whether Roy was amongst 'em 
or not. Well, they started, an' when they got aroun' 
to where I was I saw Roy right in amongst 'em, an' 
running jist as easily as any uv th' rest. He looked over 
to where I was an' smiled. I thought at furst he was 
a-smilin' at me, but I found out that it was at a girl 
who sat next to me. She was a real purty little thing, 
with light hair, blue eyes, an' lips as red as a cherry. 
She waved her hand at Roy. 

"It seems as tho they had to run aroun' th' lot four 
times to make up a mile. Roy hung back to th' rear. 



42 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

altho I cud see he wasn't lettin' th' leaders git too far 
away from him. They went aroun' once, twice, three 
times. At th' beginnin' uv th' fourth round they all 
speeded up considerable, an' began to go purty fast. 
But still Roy was about fourth frum th' lead. 

'Th' little girl at my side began to git nervous. *0h, 
why doesn't he go up ahead?' she kept sayin' to her- 
self. Just as Roy was opposite her, she leaned far out 
over th' rail an' screamed. 

"*Roy! Roy!' she cried, *go up head! You've just 
got to win!' 

''Well, maybe Roy heard and maybe he didn't, but 
he speeded up a little an' passed two or three uv those 
ahead uv him as they went aroun' th' curve. 

"Then away aroun' on the other side uv the stretch 
I saw two runners, both a-runnin' as hard as they cud. 
One had a T' on his shirt and th' other had an 'L.' 
The one with a T' on his shirt was ahead, but I saw 
th' boy in th' rear slowly gain on his rival. They ran 
side by side. Finally one forged ahead. It was the 
boy with the 'L' on his shirt. 

"The girl beside me was screamin' like mad. 

" 'It's Roy ! It's Roy' she yelled. 'Roy won !' 

"What ? Time ? Well, the announcer said four min- 
utes fifty-five seconds, but it seemed like an hour to 
me. Why, Sally, Sally! Whatever makes you cut up 
so?" 




Tlh® Featheip Fir®m th® Skf 

LACK HAWK, chief of the Utes, sat 
upon the ground, his coppery skin 
ghstening in the late evening sunshine. 
He smoked his long pipe in silence, and 
seemed to be thinking deeply. 

Before him stood two young braves. 
One, Strong Heart, was tall and 
sinewy, while the other, Big Moose, though tall, was 
more heavily built and possessed of huge strength. 
Their tense attitude showed that they were waiting 
some important decision from their leader. 

Suddenly Black Hawk rose to his feet. His knees 
cracked slightly. 

'*Ugh!" grunted the chief, as his ears caught the 
sound, ''Black Hawk is getting old. Many moons have 
gone by. Black Hawk is old. His skin is wrinkled, his 
muscles sag; no longer can he hear the voice of the 
Great Waters; no longer can he see the faint blue 
smoke against the light blue sky. Ugh! Big Chief 
most dead now. Soon will he take his wolf-dogs and 
go to the happy hunting grounds, where the chase is 
always good, where all is peace and the light of the 
sun never dies on the earth, and where the trees are 
always green, and the water flows cool and clear. 

*'Yes, soon our tribe will be without their old leader. 
Their new^ one must be brave and noble, one who fears 
no danger, who is swift and fleet of foot, who can send 
his arrows swift and sure, who has the kindness to 
draw love and obedience, yet with the will to make 
obey. You both would marry Budding Rose, my daugh- 
ter, and be the new chief; yet only one can do that. 
She, herself, shall make the choice. He who is un- 



44 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

fortunate must accept his defeat with a kindly spirit. 
If not, let him go forth as a wanderer and an outcast, 
as one who deserves his fate, for he who can not ac- 
cept defeat with all grace would likewise hold victory. 
Black Hawk has spoken!" 

With these last words the chief turned and disap- 
peared into his tent. Silently the two braves turned 
and went in search of the beautiful Budding Rose. 

They found her seated in front of her tent, en- 
gaged in the pleasant occupation of stringing beads. 
As tliey approached, she held up a string of varicolored 
beads for them to admire. 

"See," she cried gayly, as they seated themselves 
upon the ground before her. ''Old Urinnus made them 
for my birthday. They are pretty! Why, what trou- 
bles you two?" she demanded, as they failed to ad- 
mire the really beautiful beads. "Strong Heart, answer 
me!" 

Big Moose scowled. Why had she not asked him to 
answer? Could it be — ? But no. He was so much 
larger than Strong Heart. She could not resist the 
fascination of his superior strength. He listened sul- 
lenly to Strong Heart's reply. 

"Oh, Budding Rose," cried Strong Heart softly, 
"this is not the time for your petty vanities. To-day 
have you attained your one hundred and seventy- 
sixth moon. You must marry. To-day must you choose 
between us — Strong Heart or Big Moose. The great 
Black Hawk wishes it." 

"And I must marry soon," murmured Budding Rose. 
"Is it not so. Strong Heart?" 

"While the moon is yet full," he replied. 

"But it is so soon, and I am undecided between you." 

"Let U5 wrestle," suggested Big Moose craftily. 
With his superior strength he was confident of victory. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 45 

''Let US run/' suggested Strong Heart. 

''No, no," replied Budding Rose, laughing. "You 
both choose that in which you are confident of winning. 
It is not just. Let me say what you shall do. You have 
scorned my vanity, and for that shall I punish you. 
Listen. He who would be my mate and the chief of 
Black Hawk tribe must bring to me the milk-white 
feather from the tail of the Black Eagle of Sunset 
Mountain. See," she cried, and pointed westward to 
a distant mountain behind which the glowing sun was 
just setting, throwing it into dark silhouette and fram- 
ing it with a background of crimson sky. "I have 
heard the feather is very large and beautiful. It shall 
be the love-token." With these words she skipped 
laughingly away. 

The rivals stood looking at each other. Big Moose 
scowled. 

"Shall we make fools of ourselves for a woman's 
whim?" he demanded. 

"The whims of a gentle woman should be respect- 
ed," rephed Strong Heart. "I shall leave with the 
rising of the sun for Sunset Mountain." 

"Then I shall. ♦ ♦ * ^^q there two such 
feathers ?" 

"Only one." 

"I shall get the milk-white feather," boasted Big 
Moose. 

"May the Great Father follow you," answered Strong 
Heart smiling. "Still, I have set my heart on that 
feather. Good-night, Brother Big Moose. Shall you 
depart also at daybreak?" 

"Yes, but our ways lie not together," responded 
Big Moose, shortly. 

"It is well, laughed Strong Heart," amused by the 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



other's coldness. **Let it be so. May your dreams be 
pleasant." 

"If they are of Budding Rose," replied Big Moose,, 
"then 'twere so." 

"Your dreams are high. Fare the night well, Big^ 
Moose." 

Big Moose did dream of Budding Rose, but his 
dreams were far from pleasant. In them he saw the 
beautiful Budding Rose clasped fondly in Strong" 
Heart's arms, a large white feather sticking in her 
beaded head-band. On Strong Heart's head was the 
long, flowing headdress of Black Hawk. * * * Big 
Moose awoke in a cold sweat. What if his dream came 
true ? It was unthinkable, maddening. 

"It must not be," hissed Big Moose to himself. "I 
will go now, while Strong Heart sleeps. I must have 
the feather, even if Strong Heart dies." 

Snatching up his arms, he slid out of his tent and 
was soon lost in the underbrush. 

In the meanwhile, however. Strong Heart slept not. 
Knowing the crafty nature of Big Moose, he had set 
off in the direction of Sunset Mountain only a half- 
hour before. Following the river growth, he bore 
steadily to the westward. The strong, mellow moon- 
light, filtering through the branches of the trees, af- 
forded light enough to see plainly. As he went, the 
ground underfoot became rougher and rougher. The 
river growth thinned out and finally disappeared al- 
together. Now Strong Heart was on the eastern slope 
of Sunset Mountain. Behind him the eastern horizon 
was beginning to lighten with the first signs of the 
coming dawn. 

Now he began to feel the effects of his journey. He 
sat down to rest a few minutes. He was quite sleepy. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCREBBLINGS 



When he awoke he found himself so firmly bound 
and gagged that he could hardly move a muscle. A 
dull, persistent ache throbbed through his head. Yet 
his brain was clear. 

"This is of Big Moose's doing," he thought angrily. 
^'May the Great Father treat him as he deserves." 

It had long since been daylight, and now the sun 
was beginning to beat down with unioleasant heat. 
With difficulty Strong Heart rolled himself into the 
protecting shade of a huge boulder. 

No sooner had he accomplished this feat than he 
heard light footsteps approaching over the rocks. *'It 
must be Big Moose," thought Strong Heart. He strug- 
gled to sit up — and looked straight into the face of 
Budding Rose. 

His mouth sealed by the gag, only his eyes could 
express his amazement. 

''Strong Heart!" exclaimed Budding Rose, stopping 
short. In a moment she was on her knees beside him, 
and began sawing on the rawhide bounds with a sharp 
piece of flint which she drew from her belt. 

Soon Strong Heart was free. He rose stiffly to his 
feet, and turning his eyes heavenward, began a long 
and ancient vow of revenge against Big Moose. 

But the words died on his lips. His sharp eyes had 
cnught a dark speck against the light blue sky, almost 
directly overhead. As he watched, it grew larger and 
larger. Down, down it came, swirling, eddying, twist- 
ing. It was white. Strong Heart's hand shot out and 
caught it. It was a large, beautiful, milk-w^hite feather. 
Strong Heart held it up. 

Budding Rose's eyes widened. Then she exclaimed 
softly, 'It's — why, it's the love-token!" 

"It was willed by the Great Father," spoke Strong 
Heart gravely. "The Black Eagle of Sunset Mountain, 



48 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

sailing far above the clouds, has dropped it. But come, 
let me put it in your hair." 

Budding Rose came closer, with bowed head. Ten- 
derly Strong Heart slipped the feather into her head- 
band. Its milky whiteness afforded a beautiful con- 
trast to the maiden's coal-black hair. Strong Heart 
opened his arms, and she slid quietly and contentedly 
into them. 

'Tm so glad," she murmured softly, as he drew her 
to him. "I was so afraid Big Moose would get the 
feather. That's why I followed." 

And Big Moose, hidden behind a boulder twenty 
feet away, tired, unsuccessful, defeated, a self-made 
outcast, yet with the Ute pride unbroken, drove his 
knife to the hilt through his massive, glistening chest, 
straight to the heart. 



CHRISTMAS AND THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE. 

|0W that Thanksgiving is gone, we look 
forward with pleasure to Christmas. 
We begin to plan for our Christmas 
presents. To whom shall we give? 
Why, to those who gave to us last year, 
and certainly to those who have given 
us a present for the last three or four 
years. But there's old Grandma Ritz, now, who nursed 
us through that spell of pneumonia last winter. She 
hasn't given us a Christmas present since the bank 
failed, four years ago. Well, if we have any money 
left, we'll get her some small trinket. Then, having 
planned our Christmas presents with the utmost care 
and economy — for it is more pleasant to receive than to 




HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 49 

give — we rush off to hit father for a ten-spot. After 
that we settle down and look forward with pleasure to 
Christmas. 

Most everybody looks forward with pleasure to 
Christmas except father and those poor people who 
work in an express office or the postoffice. The latter 
are swamped under a flood of Chirstmas mail and pack- 
ages. And poor father! Alas, he is swamped under a 
flood of Christmas bills long before he is through ad- 
miring that fine smoking stand which Brother Bill gave 
him (which somehow disappeared into Bill's own den) , 
or that easy Morris chair which Sister Sue gave him. 
Ah, father felt the need of that chair when he got the 
bill for it, but Sue found it so comfortable herself that 
she removed it to her own room — and father didn't 
mind, did he? 

Oh, no! father didn't mind. These were his Christ- 
mas joys — his yearly due. He was used to paying for 
those lovely lace curtains which mother had given him 
to hang up in the parlor, or that book case Ralph — 
just home from college — had bought for him to put in 
the library, so Ralph could have some place to put his 
collection of Snappy Stories. He was used to having 
Bill smoke those fine four-for-a-dollar Havanas which 
Neighbor Newcome had sent over from next door. But 
father didn't mind. He enjoyed it. These were his 
yearly due. To use a vulgar expression, father was the 
ofoat — and we love him for it. 




|MOKE, blue and vile smelling:, floated 
in clouds thru the stuffy little room 
over Tony's Roost, and hung especially 
thick over the small round table which 
stood in its center. Around this, the 
only object of furniture in the room, 
other than the chairs, sat three men 
who smoked strong cigars and drank still stronger 
drinks. 

It was the day before the annual baseball game be- 
tween Harvard and Yale, and these men, three of the 
greatest crooks attracted to New Haven by the excel- 
lent chances for heavy betting, had gathered here over 
Tony's Bar to discuss the day's work. 

"Speakin' of confidence in pitchers," a huge, florid 
faced individual was saying, "did you notice how quick 
th' bets changed from three to two in favor of Yale to 
three to one in favor of Harvard? That was one of 
th' quickest changes in betting I've ever seen." 

"How did that happen, Billings?" asked one of the 
other men. "I haven't yet got the hang of the thing." 
"Well, ya see, Monty, this feller Coverdale, Yale's 
pitcher, is one of the best pitchers Yale has had for 
a long time. Seems as tho he's a find. Nobody knew 
he could pitch until they got him out for practice at 
the beginnin' of the season. They say he's got all kinds 
of speed. And control! Why, from what I hear, he's 
almost a wizard in puttin' the pill over in th' right 
spot. Funny nobody ever heard of him before, but 
they say he's one of those modest, retirin' sort of chaps 
who stand around and let somebody else toot their 
horns. Well, they've been holdin' him in for almost th' 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 51 

whole season, waitin' to put him in th' box for to-mor- 
row's game, when last night Coverdale gits a telegram 
from home, up in northern New York somewhere, 
sayin', 'Mother dangerously ill. Come home at once. 
Father,' or something like that, ya know. Well, he 
packs up a few things an' is on his way home before 
anybody knows he's gone. One of his friends found 
that telegram in his room late last night, an' that was 
th' first anybody knew of it. Well, Yale, of course, 
tried to keep it quiet, but such things will leak out, 
an' this mornin' it was all over town. You know th' 
rest. I came here intendin' to place my pile on Yale, 
but was lucky enough to hold on to it until this morn- 
in', when I heard this news. Then I began placin' my 
bets. Every cent I've got is on Harvard to wdn, an' I 
stand a good chance of makin' a rake-in." 

''All of mine is on Harvard, too," said Monty, light- 
ing another cigar. "How about you, Dinty?" 

"Oh, I'm wise," grinned the third man, who was 
dressed in a loud plaid suit, and who wore some remark- 
able cut glass. "I'm wise, bo, I'm wise." 

"Good for you," laughed Bilhngs, for he was in a 
pleasant mood. "Suppose we have another drink 
on it." 

At this point in their conversation an unusual com- 
motion broke out in the room below them, which was 
occupied by Tony's Bar. Hoarse shouts and loud, 
muffled tones ascended thru the floor and reached their 
ears. 

"Wonder what's up," exclaimed Billings. 

"Don't know," replied Monty. "Dinty, I guess you'd 
better go see what all that racket's about." 

"I gotcha, Steve," assented Dinty, arising. "It must 
be something extraordinary, don' cher know." With 
these words he shut the door behind him. The two left 



52 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

behind heard him descending the creaking stairs with 
shuffling steps. 

In a short time he was back, ascending the steps 
three at a time, and bursting into the room in wild ex- 
citement. "Ye gods, men," he shouted, "guess what's 
up? Tony's takin' bets three to one ON YALE TO 
WIN!" 

"Th' devil you say," ejaculated Billings. "What's 
happened ?" 

"Th' Yale crowd got a telegram about an hour ago 
from Coverdale. He's comin' back. Says his folks 
wired him that his mother was so much better that 
they wouldn't need him at home. Telegram caught 
him about half way home." 

"By all the Seven Sacred Saddle Blankets of Sagi- 
narius," swore Monty, "that's hard luck for certain." 

"Cut th' comedy, Monty," rasped Billings snappishly. 
"Sit down, Dinty, and let's hear the details of this. Now 
is this a rumor or a fact ?" 

"It's a fact," avowed Dinty, breathing heavily. "I 
saw th' two Yale students who saw th' telegram. 
They're tickled to death an' takin' all th' bets they can 
git." 

"H'm! Did Coverdale say what train he'd be on?" 

"On the N. Y., N. H. & H. It gets here at 9:56 
tonight. Half th' Yale student body are goin' down 
to meet him." 

"This is awful," raved Billings, almost losing control 
of himself. "Why, if that feller Coverdale pitches in 
that game to-morrow, it's good-bye to our money, an' 
we can't afford to lose all that dough. What are we 
goin' to do ?" 

"There's only one thing that we can do," spoke up 
Monty, who, in spite of the fact that he had taken the 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 53 



news more calmly than the others, had been thinking 
desperately for a way to save his money. 

"What's that?'' asked Billings and Dinty eagerly. 

*To keep him from gettin' here at all." 

"You mean — " 

"Kidnap him. Why not? We won't hurt him, an' 
th' result will be the same as tho he had continued on 
hom.e. We'll let him go just as soon as we've held him 
long enough to keep him from pitchin' in the game." 

"That's easy enough said," remarked Billings; "but 
how can we get hold of him? Dinty here says the 
whole student body is going down to meet him to- 
night." 

"Well, we need some personal information about Cov- 
erdale which we can get anywhere. Hand me that time 
table you've got in your pocket, Dinty, an' I'll give you 
th' general outhne of my plan." 

Frank Coverdale, Yale's great pitcher, sat gazing out 
of the window, looking out upon the swiftly retreating 
New England scenery. He had boarded the train at 
Troy, where the telegram from home, advising him it 
was unnecessary for him to come home, had awaited 
him. He had had a great shock, for he dearly loved his 
aged mother, but had readily recovered upon receipt of 
the good news at Troy. His whole mind was now occu- 
pied with what was taking place back in New Haven. 
He had purchased a New Haven newspaper dated that 
day. He smiled as he read the piece of his "taking 
French leave," and the "great havoc" which it had 
caused among "the betting class," and of the "anxiety 
of the Yale adherents." 

"Don't see why they had to make such a rumpus 
over it," he remarked to himself; "they've got Hitch- 
cock. He's just as good a pitcher as I am, only he 



54 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

does lose his head sometimes. I guess they've got that 
telegram by this time. Maybe that'll cheer 'em up a 
little. However, I do hope they won't make a demon- 
stration when I get there. I'm too tired for such a 
thing, and besides, I don't like 'em. * * * Wonder 
what Elizabeth thought when she heard of it? Sorry 
I couldn't tell her good-bye, but there wasn't time. 
It doesn't matter, though, now that I am coming back." 
Then, as the most natural thing in the world, he began 
to think about Elizabeth entirely. 

It was growing dark, and the train had just left the 
town of Canaan, which is in the extreme northwestern 
portion of Connecticut, when he was aroused from his 
reverie by the entrance of a porter into the car. 

**Mistah Frank Coverdale!" called out this gentle- 
man. "Heah am a telegram fo' Mistah Frank Cover- 
dale. Am de gen'man in dis heah car?" 

Frank signaled the fellow, wondering who could be 
sending him a telegram at such a time. His heart 
jumped. Perhaps his mother had grown worse again! 
He took the telegram, signed for it, and tore it open 
immediately. He read with relief the following: 

*'Mr. Frank Coverdale, Train No. 679, N. Y., N. H. 
& H., Southbound, via Canaan: Fellows planning to 
give you a big parade. If you wish to avoid it, leave 
train at Botsford. Will meet you with car. — The 
Bunch." 

"Am dere an answer, suh?" asked the porter, re- 
spectfully. 

"No, that'll be all, thank you." 

"Yassuh, yassuh; Ah shore had a mighty time 
a-findin' you, suh ; a mighty time a — " 

"Oh, is that what you're waiting for?" laughed 
Frank, reaching into his pocket. "Here, take this, you 
old rascal, and go along with you." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 55 

"Thank yo', suh; thank yo'," grinned the darkey, 
reaching" for the coin. ''Ah wouldn't take it fo' de 
worl', suh. Thank yo', suh; thank yo'." 

This httle incident attracted attention to Frank, and 
several men in the car recognized him as Yale's great 
pitcher, about whom so much had been written in the 
newspapers. However, as he showed a disposition to 
be left to himself, they refrained from forcing them- 
selves upon him. 

Young Coverdale settled back in his seat and studied 
the telegram. "I'll bet that's one of Alvin Moran's 
great ideas," he told himself, "and for once I'll give 
him credit of thinking of something really worth while. 
I hate to disappoint the students, but I don't feel like 
joining any such demonstration. Then I can't dis- 
appoint the bunch after all the trouble they've gone to. 
It's me for Botsford and a nice thirty-mile ride into 
New Haven, with the beautiful and jewel-like stars 
gleaming overhead in a background of dark velvet sky 
and the cool breeze of the summer's night fanning my 
weary brow, e'en as the fairies whispering sweet things 
unto me. Ah, what a prospect ! Then with a good rub- 
down, a shower and a good night's sleep, I'll be all 
ready for the game tomorrow. Ah, what a bright 
world I live in." And whispering these things to him- 
self, Frank Coverdale dozed off. 

Botsford is a little town lying on the N. Y., N. H. & 
H. Railroad, about thirty mJles from New Haven. It is 
at this point that the line divides into two branches, 
one branch going on to Bridgeport and the other, turn- 
ing east, enters New Haven. Botsford is of a very 
retiring disposition, and its five hundred inhabitants 
are usually preparing for bed when the 9:04 stops to 
take a breath at her depot. Indeed, it's very depar- 
ture, which occurs some thirty seconds later, is the 



56 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

signal for all lights in the village to go out, and in 
half an hour the whole town is sleeping peacefully. 

Thus it happened that when Frank Coverdale alight- 
ed from the train at Botsford the whole town was in 
darkness, and the only light which he discerned came 
from a brakeman's lantern held by the sleepy station 
master, who shuffled up to him and drawled out: 

*'Sa-ay, be yew this here feller Coverdale, wot's goin' 
ter meet a bunch who came over from New Haven?'' 

'I'm the one," replied Frank, glancing around. 
"Where are they?" 

"S-s-h!" whispered the station agent in his ear, 
"they're around back of the station house a-waitin' fer 
ye. They said they wanted ter play a lettle prank on 
ye — make ye think they didn't come, or sumpthin' like 
that. They're in one o' these here closed-up autymo- 
beels." He stifled a yawn. "Yew city chaps shure 
dew stay up late o' nights. I must be goin' home. Th' 
ole woman will be a-waitin' up fer me. G'night." 
With these parting words the station master shuffled 
off across the tracks and disappeared in the darkness. 

"Poor fellow," muttered Frank sympathetically, 
"wonder what fun he ever gets out of life." 

As he turned the corner he fell into something en- 
tirely unexpected. Three pairs of hands grabbed hold 
of him with unusual violence. At first Frank thought 
that he was in the hands of his friends, but he soon 
discovered that he was in the clutches of enemies. He 
struggled desperately, but finally succumbed to the 
nerve-deadening fumes of a chloroform-soaked hand- 
kerchief which was held under his nose. 

Quickly he was borne to the waiting car, and a few 
seconds later the roar of the exhaust broke the still- 
ness of the night as the car moved toward New Haven, 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 57 

its lights cutting a bright pathway thru the thick 
gloom. 

The game that day opened with Hitchcock in the box 
for Yale. The great stadium was crowded almost to its 
capacity. Somewhere among that vast crowd sat three 
gamblers v/ith expectant, self-satisfied grins upon their 
evil countenances. Only they knew the whereabouts of 
Frank Coverdale, for whom the whole country had been 
scoured. For when Frank had failed to come in on even 
the third train from Troy, Coach Peterson had burned 
up the wires and had obtained some interesting facts. 
The telegraph operator at Canaan had testified to re- 
ceiving a telegram for Frank Coverdale, train 678, 
southbound, which had been duly delivered and signed 
for. The telegram, he said, contained words to the ef- 
fect that Frank Coverdale was to get off at Botsford 
and proceed from there with friends to New Haven to 
avoid a demonstration there. 

The station master at Botsford had testified that a 
person answering the name and description of Frank 
Coverdale had left the train there. He also said that 
a party of men were waiting in an automobile for 
Coverdale, but that he couldn't describe them, be- 
cause they had remained within the car. 

Coach Peterson then sought out Frank's friends, all 
of whom readily disavowed any knowledge of having 
sent a telegram to Coverdale. 

From then on, various parties scoured the country 
around Botsford, but all returned without finding a 
single trace of the missing pitcher. 

So Peterson opened the game with Hitchcock in 
the box, as he probably would have done anyway, had 
Coverdale been on the grounds. But now it was a 
case of utter necessity. He had no alternative. 



58 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Up in the grandstand Elizabeth Hartford sa,t. After 
the first inning she made an important discovery. She 
found out why she was a fan. It was because she hked 
Frank Coverdale. A baseball game with Frank pitch- 
ing for one side was intensely interesting to her. A 
baseball game without Frank, and especially with his 
whereabouts unknown, had no interest for her what- 
ever. The gam.e bored her. She got up and left. 

Outside among the hundreds of automobiles she 
found her ov/n car, a high powered, dark red roadster. 
After some skillful handling she managed to extract it 
from the other cars, and in a few minutes she was driv- 
ing along the road which led to Botsford. She had no 
special object in mind, only a desire to go away some- 
where. Mile after mile flew by. Elizabeth was soon 
well out into the country. She was contemplating turn- 
ing around when she discerned a figure rapidly ap- 
proaching on foot. A few seconds later she recognized 
it, and her heart gave a great leap for joy. The pedes- 
trian was Frank Coverdale! 

They recognized each other almost at the same in- 
stant, and cried out: 

"Frank!" 

"Elizabeth!" 

"Oh, Frank," almost sobbed Elizabeth, "where have 
you been? We looked everywhere for you." 

"I spent the night in an old deserted mill on a pile 
of straw," answered Frank, "and just managed to tear 
myself away. But I'll explain all that later. What 
time is it? My kidnapers accidentally carried away 
my watch." 

"Twenty-five minutes to five," replied the girl, look- 
ing at her wrist-watch. "The game was called at 
three-thirty." 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 59 

"Good ! Turn the car around, Lizzie. We may reach 
there before the end of the game, anyway." 

EHzabeth turned the car skilfully on the narrow 
road. Already Frank had climbed in beside her. With 
a jerk the car sped off toward New Haven, gaining 
speed at every second and leaving behind it an impene- 
trable cloud of dust. 

Back in New Haven Yale battled desperately with 
Harvard. For five innings each team held the other 
scoreless. Then in the last half of the sixth Harvard 
managed to push over a run. 

The strain was beginning to tell upon Hitchcock. 
But in the first part of the seventh, Yale, not to be 
outdone by her opponents, also squeezed in a tally. Then 
Harvard, aroused by the competition, added another 
run to her score. The eighth inning dragged itself 
wearily by, uneventful. Thus the score stood two to one 
in favor of Harvard at the beginning of the ninth. 

Great gloom had gathered over the Yale bench. 
The strain was telling on Hitchcock, yet Yale had no 
better pitcher to put in the box. It seemed as tho they 
would be defeated. Still, there was a chance of tying 
the score and forcing the game into an extra inning. 
In either case, however, their opponents might come 
back strong in their half of the inning, and Hitchcock, 
in his weakened condition and liability to lose his head 
any time, could hardly be relied upon to prevent Har- 
vard from making any more tallies. 

Outside, the roar of an automobile was heard, gain- 
ing in volume until it finally ended with a loud screech 
of the brakes. A moment later the familiar form, of 
Frank Coverdale dashed thru the dressing room and 
up to the little door which led to the bench on which 
the Yale men sat. They had just returned from the 



60 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

field, and were now to have their last chance to come 
back at Harvard. 

The bulky form of Coach Peterson blocked the door- 
way. 

"Well, Coach, here I am." Frank announced in his 
ear. 

Coach Peterson jumped around and stared at Frank 
as tho he were looking upon his ghost instead of the 
real Frank Coverdale. 

**Here he is, fellows," he cried joyously to his men. 
when he had caught his breath. "Here's your kid- 
naped pitcher." * * * 

The sensational return of Frank Coverdale did more 
to put spirit and vim into his discouraged teammates 
than anything else could have done, yet with all their 
new-born enthusiasm they were only able to tie the 
score. 

In the meantime, Frank had received a hasty shower 
and rubdown, and was getting ready to go into the 
box in the last of the ninth. It was up to him to hold 
Harvard scoreless, and thus give his teammates an- 
other chance to win the game. 

As he walked out to the slab, dressed in his trim 
baseball suit, the whole grandstand let forth one grand 
yell. "Coverdale! Coverdale! Coverdale!" 

Up in the vast crowd three gamblers received a 
great shock, and had a sneaking suspcion that some- 
thing was going to happen. 

The first man up hit Frank for a single. The next 
one got first on four balls. Billings began to cheer 
up again. Perhaps Yale would lose the game after all. 
But Frank steadied himself, and of the next three men 
up, the first flied out to deep center, while Frank, re- 
covering from his nervousness, struck out the rem<V.n- 
ing two. The game ran into an extra inning. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 61 

The first man up on Yale's side struck out. The sec- 
ond bunted and reached first by some remarkable foot- 
work. Alvin Moran, the next man, drove out a short 
foul, which was readily captured by the third baseman. 

Andy gave a grunt of disgust. ** 'S up to you, 
Frank, old boy," he said, as Frank walked to the plate. 
Frank lined out a three-bagger, bringing in the man on 
first, although he himself died on third when Yale's 
next man struck out. 

Yale 3, Harvard 2. 

The next inning lasted just as long as it takes to 
strike three men out on nine pitched balls. Frank had 
saved the game by his three-bagger and his steady 
pitching. 

The fans roared 

^'Yale! Yale! Yale!" 

"Coverdale! Coverdale! Coverdale!" 




A Il@mlb©]p ®f th® Bir®tIhi®ip]hi(D)®(dl 

N Broadway it was snowing — not a 
romantic snow with bright Hghts and 
the merry voices of Broadway's gay- 
ety, but a cold, penetrating, slushy 
snow, unpleasantly practical. Thru 
the chill and slush scurried the men 
and women from the shops, eager to 
gain the security of the subway exits. Big, healthy 
men, buried deep in great overcoats, and women warm- 
ly clad in muff and fur — and those not so fortunate — 
all passed hurriedly on their way. 

On the corner crouched a poor, ill-fed puppy. Lost, 
friendless, dejected, it stood there, shivering in the 
relentless cold, its tail drawn down between its hinder 
legs. Now and again a pitiful whine came from its 
skinny throat, as the dog looked pleadingly into the 
faces of the passers-by, none of whom seemed to notice 
him. It tried to walk, but its poor immature legs were 
benumbed with the cold and the little feet almost frozen 
by the slush in which they had long stood. 

A big, husky man, enveloped to his ears in the col- 
lar of a huge coat, came stalking along the sidewalk, 
his feet well-clad and his hands warm in his gloves. 
The puppy looked at him imploringly, beseechingly, and 
again came that pitiful, helpless whine from its throat. 
The man glared down savagely at the little creature, 
and then somehow the dog got mixed up between the 
man's feet. 

''Get out of my way, you dirty brute," growled the 
man, and would have kicked the animal which now lay 
shivering and whimpering in the half-melted snow. 
But suddenly a pair of small, dirty hands reached down 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 63 

and snatched the helpless dog away just in time. A 
pair of dark brown eyes flashed fire as they gazed in 
scorn at the well-dressed man. 

**Ga-awn, ya big dude, you. Just 'cause a pore help- 
less puppy gits in yer way an' dirts up yer pants, you'd 
break 'is slats in, wud ya? An' you what's got all dem 
fine clothes, too! Bah! An' some folks 'ud call you a 
man !" 

And then the ragged, blue-cold little news-boy turned 
upon his heel and went away, snugging the whimper- 
ing dog under his frayed coat. "Come on, pupsy," he 
murmured, as he dashed for a corner drug store, "I'll 
buy ya some nice warm^ milk an' den take care uv ya. 
Gosh, I know wut it is to be left out in de cold. Ya 
see, pupsy," was his choking explanation, "I'm uh 
norphant meself." 




Tlh© V®k@ ®S tlh® Ag® 

A Declamation Delivered April 11, 1917. 

50R nearly three years now, one-half of 
the world has been involved in a gi- 
gantic tumult which, in those countries 
concerned, has nearly usurped the 
throne of civilization. Like a speck 
on a distant horizon appeared this su- 
preme passion, like a whirlwind did it 
spread all over Europe, one appalHng, tremendous 
thundercloud of war and horror, sweeping over the 
continent until it held all Europe in its relentless grip. 
There where once peace and prosperity held sway, 
bloodshed, destruction, poverty, and all the horrors of 
war reign supreme. A terrible passion of hate has 
robbed men of all reasoning power until they have been 
frenzied by the lust to kill, like a beast of prey when 
once he has felt the warm drip of blood upon his fangs. 
Civilization is tottering upon her pedestal, and even 
humanity seems about to be swept ruthlessly aside. 

But this unreasoning passion has not restricted it- 
self to Europe alone. It has now reached out with its 
mighty arm and dragged a nation from the other side 
of l;he world into its raging conflux. The last link in 
the chain of warring nations has been forged. It en- 
circles the globe. We, the United States of America, 
are on the eve of active hostilities. Already a state 
of war has been declared to exist between this country 
and Germany. After months of infinite patience and 
praying that somehow America would not be forced 
into the great European struggle, we have at last been 
compelled to arise and assert ourselves in behalf of 
humanity and our national honor. No longer could we 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 65 

stand idle and harken to the groans and shrieks of men, 
women and children sent to a terrible death in mid- 
ocean by the ruthless and inhuman submarine warfare 
of the German government. No longer could we shut 
our eyes to the fact that Germany has broken all the 
restrictions of international law and of the laws of God 
and humanity. No longer could we endure the sight 
of our citizens and the citizens of other neutral nations 
sent to an untimely death without a just warning and 
without time to transport passengers and crew to 
means of preservation. At last the United States has 
heard the cries of these sufferers, and has arisen in the 
holy cause of humanity, in behalf of civilization itself, 
and has determined to put a stop to the avarice of auto- 
cratic and inhuman government. 

And in what a noble and unselfish spirit have we 
entered into this great universal conflict. In the words 
of Premier Lloyd George of England, uttered immed- 
iately upon hearing of our decision, "America has at 
one bound become a world power in a sense she never 
has before. She waited until she found a cause worthy 
of her traditions. The American people held back un- 
til they were fully convinced that the fight was not a 
sordid scrimmage for power and possessions, but an 
unselfish struggle to overthrow a sinister conspiracy 
against human liberty and human rights." 

America is in every way deserving of this glowing 
tribute. The American people have never engaged in 
brutal and selfish warfare. From the ringing of the 
Liberty Bell in 1776 to the sinking of the Maine, the 
United States has always fought for the preservation 
of human rights and the perpetuation of civilization. 
Justice and reason have ever been on her side. And 
always America has emerged from the contest with 
wrongs righted, the oppressed liberated, victorious in 



66 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

the sight of God and humanity. In the selfsame spirit, 
in fulfilhiient of all our glorious traditions, do we enter 
upon this war which the German government has lit- 
erally forced upon us. We have no quarrel with the 
German people. They are among the most thrifty and 
intelligent races in the world. Even in this country 
some of our best citizens are full-blooded Germans, a 
quiet, thrifty, law-abiding people. Our quarrel is with 
the German government, with its inhuman and barbaric 
submarine warfare. We have joined the great Euro- 
pean conflagration not to add fuel to the flames, but to 
stop the fire, to hasten the time when absolute monar- 
chy, autocracy, and one-man rule shall at last be blot- 
ted out of existence. 

The European war is the third great epoch in the 
history of the world — the climax in the three-act drama 
of humanity. The birth of Christ, the French and 
American revolutions, the European war; these will 
be the milestones in the progress of civilization. The 
first the shedding of the Light upon the world, the sec- 
ond the birth of democracy, the third the overthrow of 
all false and oppressive government, the victory of 
the people. From the American revolution democracy 
has spread thruout the world, waging its war inces- 
santly wherever men were oppressed. Nothing has 
stopped it. Nothing can stop it. It is irresistible. In 
triumphant procession it is marching around the world. 

And it is in the cause of democracy that the Euro- 
pean war has already justified itself. In far-off Russia, 
the land of darkness, prisons, and iron rule of story- 
book lore, democracy has shed its light. One night the 
world went to sleep, little dreaming that a great revo- 
lution was taking place in the hearts of the Russian 
people. The next morning it looked upon a new re- 
public. Democracy had overthrown the tyranny of 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 67 

czarism. Russia is democracy's latest conquest, and in 
her and her promise stand the justification of the 
European war. The milHons of men, women and chil- 
dren, the lifeblood of England and France, who have 
given up their lives in this struggle, have sacrificed 
them to a worthy cause — the cause of democracy. 

Democracy is that form of government where the 
people rule. It is the antithesis of autocracy. It is 
humanitarian, it is just. And it is in this holy cause, 
following in the pathways of democracy, that America 
is entering the war. Forced from her neutral position 
by unjustifiable inhumanities and autocratic imperti- 
nences, she has joined hands with the family of nations 
in a world-wide struggle to vanquish autocracy — sym- 
bolized in the German government. 

Of the outcome there can be no doubt. Victory will 
be ours, victory for humanity. Tho millions of dollars 
be spent and thousands of patriotic American lives be 
lost, we have justified our position. Hand in hand with 
the allied powers, with Russia and Brazil, will we crush 
out the life of barbaric government. 

Then when the war shall be ended, when at last the 
evil thundercloud shall be dispersed, and the sun of 
democracy shall shine forth upon the world, then 
shall the earth rush forward once more, better for its 
bath in blood. Then shall we behold a perpetual peace, 
a universal democracy, the nations united, the culmina- 
tion of humanity and civilization — a United States of 
the World! 




IHIfiglh S©]h(D)®l Lif® 

(A Playlet in Eight Episodes.) 

I. 

The Leave Taking. 

ISCOVERED: Exterior view of a Lit- 
tle White House on a Hill. A picket 
fence runs across back of stage, an 
open gate at right. Flowers. In the 
yard a tree, around the tree a bench. 
Innocence seated on the bench, solilo- 
quizing. 

Innocence — They call him Freshman now, and to-day 
he goes away! Away to the great High School where 
he will meet the people of the world and learn to be 
educated. Oh, I fear for him, something makes me 
afraid. Oh, Freshman, my love, why must you leave 
me thus, I who have been the playmate of your life 
these many years? Why do you go? * * He has 
heard of a wonderful man, he says, called High School 
Life. He yearns for new scenes, new experiences, and 
will hearken not to me. And somehow I fear. He 
yearns — he yearns — that is why I fear. 

(Enter Freshman, carrying a strapful of books ; 
halts at gate.) 

Freshman — Innocence ! 
Innocence — Freshman ! 

Freshman (advancing) — Ah, Innocence, to-day I 
leave you. To-day I go forth to combat a new world, 
to a new life where all is different. I am no longer a 
child. Ah, Innocence, I am glad to go, but oh, how I 
hate to leave you! 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 69 

Innocence — Leave me? Oh, Freshman, why must 
you leave me? Why cannot I go with you? 

Freshman (musingly) — Go with me? Ah, I hadn't 
thought of that. Innocence in High School ! But stay, 
it cannot be. The life would kill you. Innocence. They 
say there are many things going on there that — uh — 
might — uh — shock you. 

Innocence — Then you will need me all the more! 

Freshman — But I tell you you cannot stand the life. 
I love you. Innocence, and that is why I cannot take 
you with me. They teach many things at High School, 
and in the face of these you would wither and die. 

(Enter Purity from the house.) 

Purity — Ah, children, are you quarreling again ? Tut, 
tut ! What is the matter, Innocence ? 

Freshman (aside) — How beautiful she is! And 
so reserved ! 

Innocence — Oh, sister, can you not help me? Fresh- 
man is going away, away to the great High School, and 
he refuses to take me with him. 

Purity — He is right. Innocence; High School is no 
place for you. 

Innocence — But why? 

Purity — Now, sister, do not ask why. You would 
not understand. 

(Enter Home Training at the rear of stage, stopping 
at gate.) 

Home Training — Freshman ! 

Freshman — Oh, it's Home Training. What do you 
want? 

Home Training — Come, it is time to go to school. 

Freshman — Innocence, Home Training is calling me. 
I must go now. 

Innocence — Oh, Freshman, you are breaking my 
heart. You are going away into a new world. I fear 



70 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

for you. Promise me that you will think of me always. 

Freshman — More than always, my sweetheart. 

Innocence — And that you will return to me. 

Home Training — Come, Freshman, it is time. 

Freshman — I'm coming, Home Training. Yes, In- 
nocence, I will return, surely. And you must not forget 
me. 

Innocence — Forget you ? I will never forget you. 

Home Training — Come, Freshman. 

Freshman — I come. Good-bye, Innocence. 

Innocence — Good-bye, Freshman. (They embrace.) 

Innocence — Home Training, I am not afraid to in- 
trust him to your care. But promise me, you will al- 
ways watch over him ? 

Home Training — To the best of my ability. Innocence. 
Come, Freshman, we are late. 

Freshman — Good-bye, Innocence. Good-bye, Purity. 
At last I must go. Think well of me. 

Purity — Good-bye, Freshman. Remember you are 
always welcome here. 

Innocence — Good-bye, Freshman. You must be good, 
and always obey Home Training. 

Freshman — Yes, Innocence. 

Home Training — Come, we must hurry. (Exeunt) 

Innocence (weeping) — Oh, Purity, he is gone now. 
Oh, I am so afraid. I fear for him. Something tells 
me that I shall never see him again. 

Purity — (placing arm around Innocence as they walk 
slowly toward the house) — Hush, Innocence, you must 
not cry now. You must be brave. He is all right with 
Home Training. 

Innocence — Yes, perhaps he is. But, oh, I love him 
so. 

Purity — Come, we must go inside. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 71 

Innocence — Oh, Purity, help me. I feel so weak and 
faint * * * What if I should die ? 

Purity — Die Innocence! Nonsense. Come let us go 
in. (Exit Innocence into the house). 

Purity (looking back as she goes out) — Yes, he is 
gone. Out into the gateway of the evil world. He can 
never return to Innocence. And if Innocence should 
die, and he should repent and return to this Little 
White House on the Hill — ah, I love him too. He must 
fall back then on me. 

II. 
The Arrival. 

Discovered: The entrance hall of a High School. 
Groups of students chattering and laughing by the 
steps. Others strolling through the halls. 

(Enter Freshman and Home Training.) 

Freshman (looking around) — So this is the High 
School! Say, Home Training, this is a swell place, 
ain't it? 

Home Training — I don't know yet; I'll have to look 
around first. But listen, Freshman, I wish you would 
be more careful with your English. It doesn't sound 
well. 

Freshman — Oh, bother! Everybody talks that way 
here. 

Home Training — So I've heard ; you didn't do it once, 
I remember. 

Freshman — Well, I'm older now. I'm no longer a 
baby, you know. 

Home Training (with a sigh) — Yes, I know. You 
are now passing from boyhood into youth. It is a very 
dangerous stage of life. Freshman. A stage where 
Temptation will assail you, and Worldly Ways will 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



beset you. Oh, Freshman, you must be careful and 
strong — oh, so strong. 

Freshman — Home Training, you are forever preach- 
ing to me. If you would let me alone once, I might have 
a good time. 

Home Training — Leave you alone? Oh, Freshman, 
you need me too badly for that. I will never leave 
you — unless — unless you drive me away. 

Freshman — Come on, then. Let's see what's over 
here. 

(High School Life detaches himself from a group 
at the right and calls after Freshman.) 

High School Life — Wait a minute. Freshman. I 
want to see you. 

Freshman (turning) — Who calls? 

High School Life — I did. 

Freshman — Who are you? 

High School Life — I am High School Life. Surely 
you want to know me. 

Freshman — I should say so ! Glad to meet you. High 
School Life. I've wanted to know you for a long time. 

High School Life — Thanks, but who is this with you ? 

Freshman — This? O, this is Home Training, a life 
long friend of mine. Home Training, let me introduce 
you to High School Life. 

Home Training — I don't know whether I ought to 
know High School Life or not, or whether you should 
know him. Freshman. 

Freshman — Bosh ! You're all right, eh, High School 
Life? 

High School Life (seriously) — It all depends. Fresh- 
man, on the way I'm treated. I have two sides to my 
nature — the good side and the bad side. Some people 
find one side of me and some find the other. Without 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 73 

exception, though, they always find the side they look 
for. 

Home Training — You must look for his good side, 
Freshman. 

Freshman — Yes, yes, to be sure. I suppose you know 
everybody up here, don't you. High School Life? 

High School Life — I should say so! Come on and 
ril introduce you to some of my friends. (Bell rings.) 
Stay, tho, there's the bell. Come on. Freshman. 
I'll introduce you to one of the most important persons 
up here. 

Freshman (eagerly) — Who is he? 

High School Life — Study. 

Freshman — Oh-h-h ! (draws back, but Home Train- 
ing catches him by the arm and pulls him after High 
School Life.) 

Home Training — Come on. Freshman, you must 
hurry. 

Freshman — Study? Study? I knew a little of him 
in grammar schools. So he stays over here, too, does 
he. Humph! I don't fancy I'll like him. 

High School Life — Come on. Freshman. 

Home Training — Come on, Freshman. 

Freshman — Go on, I'm coming. (Exeunt) 

III. 

The Good and the Evil. 

Discovered: A classroom. Two rows of double 
desks extend down the room. The students are paired 
off as follows : 



74 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

On the right. On the left 

Study (alone) „ _ „ _ Procrastination 

- ™ _ „ _ Idleness 

Determination _ _ _ _„ Pessimism 

Concentration „ _ „ „ „ Grouch 

Optismism „ _ „ Nicotine 

School Spirit „ „ _ _ Evil Thoughts 

Athletic Endeavor _ _ ..Good Times 

Literary Endeavor. Wordly Ways 

Pleasure „ „ _ „ „ „ „. Weakness 

Friendliness „ „ _ „ Passion 

Honor (alone) „ Snobbishness (alone) 

Effort (alone) _ Dishonesty (alone) 

Manliness (alone) „ _ „ 

(Enter High School Life, Home Training, and Fresh- 
man.) 

High School Life — Come on. Freshman. We've got a 
few minutes before class time. I'll introduce you to 
a few of these people. Where shall we start? 

Freshman — Where's study? 

Procrastination — Bother Study. You've got plenty 
of time to meet him. Start with me. 

Freshman — What do you say, Home Training ? 

Home Training — Better begin right, Freshman, and 
start with Study. 

Freshman — But I've plenty of time to meet him. 
Let's save him till the last, High School Life. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 75 

High School Life (shrugs his shoulders) — Suits me. 
I'm neutral. Freshman, this is Procrastination. You'll 
no doubt see a lot of him around here. 

Freshman — I'm pleased to meet you, Procrastination. 

Procrastination — Hello, Freshman. Yes, I'm a 
pretty important person around here. Lots of people 
cultivate me. (Freshman and Pix)crastination cany on 
conversation in pantomime.) 

Study (across the aisle) — He had better started with 
me. 

Determination (behind Study) — (Puts his hand on 
Study's shoulder, tersely) — Go on, Study! 

Study — Yes, I must get this lesson. 

High School Life — And this. Freshman, is Idleness. 

Home Training (to Freshman) — No, no Freshman! 
You must not meet Idleness. What have I taught you ? 
Come on and meet Study. 

Freshman — Home Training, you always stand in my 
way. 

Home Training — It's for your own good. 

Freshman — Shall I meet Idleness, High School Life? 

High School Life — That's for you to say. 

Idleness — -Come here. Freshman, I want to talk with 
you. 

Freshman — Listen, he's calling me. 

Home Training — Let him call ; you did not come here 
to meet Idleness. 

Freshman — No, I guess not. I must meet Study. 

Idleness — Come here, Freshman. 

Procrastination — 0, wait a while before you meet 
Study. Here, meet my friend. Idleness. 

Determination — Freshman ! 

Freshman — Who's that ? 

High School Life — Determination — without him, you 
can not stay here long. 



76 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Freshman — I must meet him, then. 

High School Life — Very well. Freshman, this is 
Determination. You won't find him very sociable, but 
just the same he is a good fellow to run around with. 

Freshman — Fm — Fm glad to meet you. Determina- 
tion. 

Determination — The longer you dally with Procras- 
tination and Idleness the more you'll need me before 
you can meet my friend. Study. 

Freshman — Is this Study? He doesn't look very 
pleasant. 

High School Life — Yes, this is Study. He's not very 
sociable with strangers, but the longer you know him 
the easier it will be to get along with him. 

Freshman — That's good news. But look, he doesn't 
seem to hear us. 

Concentration (arousing himself) — Oh, I'm one of 
his best friends. 

Freshman — Who are you ? 

Concentration — Concentration. 

Freshman — Have I met you before ? 

Concentration — No; nor will you until after you've 
known Study for some time. 

Freshman — Oh; then you are exclusive? 

Concentration — Rather. Some people never become 
acquainted with me at all. 

Freshman— Shall I? 

Determination — Only thru me. 

(Bell rings — which arouses Study. Looks around 
vacantly, sees Freshman and smiles.) 

Study — Hello, Freshman. 

Freshman — Hello, Study. 

Study — Have you your lesson? 

Freshman — Why — why no — I put it off and forgot 
all about it. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 77 

Study — Come sit with me, and I'll explain it to you. 

Procrastination — Come sit with me, Freshman. 

Determination — Sit down with Study, Freshman ! 

Study — If you want to know your lesson you must 
sit with me and not with Procrastination. 

Freshman — Yes, I must. I've talked to you long 
enough, Procrastination. 

(Enter Education, the teacher, smiling.) 

Education — Good morning, students. Are you all 
ready for work? 

Those on right — Yes, ma'am. 

Those on left — silent. 

Education — Good. Good morning. Freshman, glad 
to have you with us. Take this seat, please. (Points 
to vacant seat behind Study.) 

Freshman — Yes, ma'am. 

DeteiTnination (takes hold of Freshman's arm and 
forces him into the seat) — Sit down! 

Home Training — Now, Freshman, you're where you 
belong. See that you take that seat every day. 

IV. 
The Downward Path, 

Discovered: The exterior view of a Corner Drug 
Store. Procrastination, Idleness, and Evil Thoughts 
standing on corner talking. 

Idleness — Where's Nicotine ? 

Evil Thoughts — Talk about the devil and you see him 
coming. Here he comes now. 

(Enter Nicotine, smoking a cigarette.) 

Nicotine — Talking about me again, fellows? 

Idleness — Lend me a cigarette, Nicotine. 

Nicotine — Lend you one ? I'll give you one. You can 



78 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

never pay back what you borrow froPxi me. (Passes 
cigarettes. All light up.) 

Idleness — Say, Nicotine^ you're all right. I couldn't 
get along without you. 

Evil Thoughts — Say, fellows, did you ever hear that 
one about the man who had three daughters? 

Procrastination, Idleness — No, let's hear it. 

(Nicotine lights another cigarette, and they gather 
around Evil Thoughts, who tells story in pantomime.) 

(Enter High School Life, followed by Freshman 
and Home Training, coming from school.) 

Freshman — There's Procrastination and Idleness. 
Who are the other two ? 

High School Life — They are Nicotine and Evil 
Thoughts, the boon companions of Procrastination and 
Idleness ; they are nearly always together. 

Freshman — What are they doing here? 

High School Life — This is the way they pass their 
time. 

Freshman — Must I meet them? 

High School Life — Not unless you want to. There 
are better people at High School than these to asso- 
ciate with, and then again there some much worse. 

Freshman — It must be manly to smoke and act as 
they do. I believe I'll meet them. 

High School Life — There goes Manliness on the other 
side of the Street. 

Freshman — He's a fine looking chap, isn't he? But 
who are those pretty girls with him? 

High School Life— They are Effort and Honor. They 
are always with Manliness. 

Freshman — Gee, I'd like to know them. 

Home Training — Come on, then. Let's get on the 
other side of the Street. 

Freshman — The Street's muddy. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 79 

(Procrastination, Idleness, Nicotine and Evil 
Thoughts laugh uproarously.) 

Procrastination (seeing Freshman) — Hello, there's 
Freshman. Come here. Freshman! 

Hom.e Training — Come on home. Freshman, you 
must get your lessons. 

Procrastination — Oh, bother the lessons. Freshman! 
You can get them to-night. Look at me ; I never open 
my books until I start to school every mxorning. Come, 
let me introduce you to these friends of mine. 

Freshman — Shall I go. High School Life? 

High School Life — At your pleasure. 

Home Training — Come on. Freshman, you must not 
associate with these people. 

Freshman — Why do you bother me, Home Training ? 
Can't you see you're in the way? 

Home Training — That is as it should be. You had 
better come with mie. 

Freshman — I've been with you long enough. Get out 
of my way ! 

Idleness — Come on. Freshman. 

Freshman — I'm coming. (Thrusts Home Training 
aside.) — Get out of the way, you. I must meet these 
people. Are you with me. High School Life? 

High School Life — You bet, Freshman. 

Home Training — You'll be sorry. Freshman. Some 
day you'll realize that I'm your best friend. 

Freshman — Go away! 

(Home Training bows head and goes out slowly to 
the right.) 

High School Life — Well, Freshman, let me introduce 
you. You already know Procrastination. Next comes 
Idleness. 

Freshman — Pleased to meet you. Idleness. I wanted 
to meet you in the classroom, but they wouldn't let me. 



80 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Idleness — 'S all right. I knew I'd meet you some 
time. 

High School Life — And this is Nicotine. He's a great 
friend of Idleness'. 

Freshman — Delighted to meet you, Nicotine. They 
say you are a pleasant fellow. 

Nicotine — You bet, I'm champion joy dispenser and 
gloom dispeller around these diggings. Have a cigar- 
ette? 

Freshman — Thanks. (Takes cigarette while Idleness 
lights it for him.) 

High School Life — And this is Evil Thoughts, the 
brother of Idleness, and some kin to Nicotine, I be- 
lieve. 

Freshman — Pleased to meet you. Evil Thoughts. 
Were you telhng a story a while ago? 

Evil Thoughts — Yep, I'll tell it to you some time. Say, 
fellows, here comes some girls. Let's treat them, and 
see if they will go joy-riding with us? 

Procrastination, Idleness, Nicotine — Good! 

Freshman — Who are they. High School Life ? 

High School Life — They are Good Times, Worldly 
Ways, Weakness and Passion. 

Freshman — Do they go to High School? 

High School Life — Oh, yes ; they are not prominent, 
but they go there nevertheless. 

Freshman — They're rather good looking. 

Idleness — I should say so. 

(Enter Good Times, Worldly Ways, Weakness and 
Passion.) 

Evil Thoughts — Hello, girls, how are you ? 

Good Times, Worldly Ways, Weakness and Passion — 
Just fine ! 

Good Tim^es — And who is this, pray? 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 81 

High School Life — Freshman, let me introduce you 
to Good Times. 

Freshman — I am really glad to meet you, Good 
Times. I fancy you'll cheer things up for me. 

Good Times — Oh, yes, if it wasn't for me, I don't 
know what people around here would do. 

High School Life — And this is Wordly Ways. 

Freshman — Pleased to meet you. Worldly Ways. I 
don't think I've met you before. 

Wordly Ways — No, I guess not, but you've got to 
cultivate me before you become fully acquainted with 
Good Times. 

Freshman — Is that so ? Then I'll do so. 

High School Life — This is Weakness, the sister of 
Passion, here. 

Freshman — I'm glad to meet you both. I suppose I 
shall know you better later on ? 

Good Times, Worldly Ways, Evil Thoughts — If you 
•stick around with us you will. 

Evil Thoughts — Say, girls. Idleness has a car just 
around the corner. What do you say we go inside 
here, have a drink, and then take a nice long spin into 
the country? 

Good Times, Worldly Ways, Weakness, Passion — 
All right, boys. Come on. 

(They open the door and start to go in. Freshman 
draws back and puts hand to his ear.) 

Freshman — Listen ! 

Good Times — What's the matter ? 

Freshman — I thought I heard Home Training call- 
ing. 

Worldly Ways— Who's he? 

Passion — Never heard of him. 

Good Times — Nonsense. He's not anywhere around. 



82 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Come on, kid, I'll show you a good time. (Grabs hold of 
his arm and pulls him thru the doorway — rest follow.) 

V. 

Further Along the Path. 

Discovered: A boy's room. Freshman dressing. 
Home Training looking on. 

Home Training — Where are you going, Freshman? 

Freshman — To a dance. 

Home Training — Where ? 

Freshman — At the High School. 

Home Training — With Manliness. 

Freshman — No! With Evil Thoughts! 

Home Training — 0, Freshman ! It is all right to at- 
tend a dance with Manliness, but to go with Evil 
Thoughts! Ah! That is the blight, the curse, of 
youth. 

Freshman — I don't know Manliness. 

Home Training — It doesn't look like it ; what girls are 
you two taking? 

Freshman — Evil Thoughts is taking Passion and I, 
Good Times. 

Home Training — Who all will be there? 

Freshman — Why, I suppose Idleness, Procrastina- 
tion, Evil Thoughts, Dishonesty, Grouch, Nicotine, 
Passion, Weakness, Chance, Worldly Ways, and Good 
Times will be there. I haven't met some of them yet, 
but I've heard of them. 

Home Training — And will not Study, Determination, 
Manliness, Honor, Optimism, School Spirit, Athletic 
Endeavor, Literary Endeavor, Effort, Purity, Pleasure, 
and Friendliness be there? 

Freshman — I don't know. I must ask High School 
Life. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 83 

Home Training — I'm afraid, Freshman, you're rapid- 
ly forgetting all that I have spent my life in teaching 
you. 

Freshman (startled) — What do you mean! 

Home Training — You should not associate with the 
people you've been running around with lately. They 
will do you only harm. What if you do have a good 
time with them? They cannot always be as pleasant 
as they are now. Already they have a hold on you. 
Soon you will be their victim — their slave. Ill-health, 
Disease, Poverty, and Old Age will beset you. All 
your pleasant friends will desert you and only Remorse 
and Death will remain. 

Freshman (carelessly) — Bosh! ''Youth must have 
its fling." 

Home Training — And sow its wild oats, they say. 
Yet, ''Whatsoever a man soweth, so shall he also reap." 

Freshman (putting on overcoat and cap) — If you 
weren't all the time preaching and sermonizing I 
might like you better. Good-bye. 

Home Training — Aren't you going to take me with 
you? 

Freshman (putting on gloves) — I am not. You'd be 
forever butting into my affairs. 

Home Training — But I must go with you. Without 
me, you'll be sure to get into trouble. 

Freshman — You are going to stay right here. 

Home Training — I am going with you. You will 
need me. 

(Outside the sound of a klaxon.) 

Freshman — Ah, there's Evil Thoughts with Passion 
and Good Times now. Good-bye, old parson's face. 

Home Training — I'm going! 

Freshman — You shan't! (Pushes Home Training 
roughly aside, dodges through the doorway and slams 



84 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

the door in Home Training's face. Locks door from 
other side.) (Exit). 

Home Training (sorrowfully) — When people thrust 
me aside like that it's time for a greater Power than I 
to intervene. 

VI. 
The FaU. 

Discovered : A ball-room and dancers. Enter Fresh- 
man with Good Times ; Evil Thoughts and Passion. 

Freshman — Ah, this is the life ! 

Good Times — I thought you'd like it. 

Freshman — Where's High School Life? 

Evil Thoughts — Bother High School Life ! Come on, 
Passion, let's dance. (Evil Thoughts and Passion dance 
away together.) 

Good Times — Here comes High School Life! 

Freshman — Oh, yes. He must have got here before 
we did. 

Good Times — He always does. 

Freshman — Do you like him. Good Times? 

Good Times — Like him ? Gee, Freshman, I'm in love 
vvdth him. That is when he don't talk shop. 

(Enter High School Life, smiling.) 

Freshman — Hello there. High School Life . 

High School Life — Hello, Freshman. I see you out 
with Good Times tonight. 

Freshman — Out with her? I should say not; I'm 
decidedly in with her, eh, Good Times? 

Good Times — You tell 'em ! 

Freshman — But say. High School Life, where are 
Idleness, Procrastination, Nicotine, and the rest of 
the bunch. They said they'd be here, but I don't see 
them. 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 85 

High School Life — Oh, they? I know where they 
are. 

Freshman — Where? (Freshman and High School 
Life hold conversation in pantomime.) 

Good Times — Huh! He's not paying me much at- 
tention. Here comes Stag. Hello, Stag. 

Stag — Hello, Good Times, may I have this one with 
you? 

Good Times (looking around at Freshman who is 
still talking to High School Life) — Fm supposed to 
have this with Freshman, but I guess he won't mind. 
Come on. Fm crazy to dance! (Good Times dances 
away with Stag.) 

(Freshman looks up just in time to see her flitting 
away.) 

Freshman — Well, Fll be What do you know about 

that! Does she do that often? 

High School Life— Who's that? Good Times? Oh, 
she doesn't wait for anybody. You have to pay her a 
lot of attention, or she'll run off with somebody else. 
Rather fickle, you know. 

Freshman — Well! Fll try to remember that. I 
guess she's not the only one to dance with; there's 
Worldly Ways, Weakness and Passion! 

High School Life (meaningly) — And others. 

Freshman — Oh, yes. 

High School Life — By the way. Freshman, where's 
Flome Training ? 

Freshman — Oh, I left him at home. Thought may- 
be he'd be in the way. 

High School Life — You never can tell. 

Freshman — No, that's why I left him there. But you 
were going to tell me about Procrastination and the 
others. Where are they? 

High School Life — They're upstairs. 



86 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Freshman — Upstairs? Do they dance up there too? 

High School Life — No, they didn't come here to 
dance. 

Freshman — Didn't come to dance ? Then what under 
the sun did they come for ? 

High School Life — I see you have a lot to learn about 
dances, Freshman. They come to — but no, I mustn't 
tell you. 

Freshman — You must tell me. 

High School Life — Do you really want to know? 

Freshman — Yes, yes. I demand that you tell me. If 
you don't, I'll go see for myself. 

High School Life (shrugs shoulders) — Oh, well, if 
you insist. (Looks around to see that no one is listen- 
ing.) It's just a little crap game, that's all. It's not 
generally known, and you mustn't let on I told you. It's 
one of the things I'm ashamed of. 

Freshman — A crap game ? Why that's gambling. 

High School Life — Of course it is, but they don't look 
upon it in that light. You've played marbles, haven't 
you? 

Freshman — Oh, yes, but that's different. 

High School Life — Maybe so, maybe not. Anyway, 
the boys here don't play marbles any more. They play 
dice, and look upon it in almost the same light that they 
did when they played marbles. My brother. College 
Life, tells me that in college, poker and the roulette 
are the games of chance the college boys play. 

Freshman — Hum. It must be manly to gamble that 
way. 

High School Life — There's Manliness over there with 
Honor talking to School Spirit and Optimism. 

Freshman (glancing in their direction) — Gee, they 
make a fine looking bunch, don't they. I'd like to know 
them. 



HIGH S CHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 87 



High School Life— Do you want to meet them*? 
Freshman— Wait, here comes Procrastination Let's 
see what he wants. 

Procrastination— Hello, Freshman, Fm looking for 
you. Come on up-stairs. I've got something to show 
you. 

Freshman— Hello, Procrastination. What's up 
Procrastination— Come on up. We've got some'crap 

game up there, believe me. Come on. 

Freshman (hesitatingly)— I don't know. Uh— say 

is Nicotme there ? I need a smoke. 

Procrastination— Nicotine? I should say so— and 
winning all the time. 

Freshman— Come on. High School Life. Let's go 
up and see what's going on. 

High School Life— I'm with you. Freshman. It's a 
good thmg you left Home Training at home, isn't it? 

Freshman (starts and then recovers himself)— 

Humph. Home Training? I wonder where he is, any- 

^^^- . (Exeunt to the left.) 

(Music stops. Enter almost immediately Evil 

Thoughts and Passion.) 

Passion — Whew ! I'm so warm ! 
Evil Thoughts— 'Tis rather hot in there, isn't it? 
What d'j^e say we go out and cool off? 
Passion — Come on ; where shall we go ? 
Evil Thoughts— Let's get into Idleness' car. He 
won't mmd. (Evil Thoughts is just about to open the 
door to go out, when it flies open, and Home Training 
comes running in.) 
Home Training— Is Freshman here ? 
Evil Thoughts— Freshman? Yes, he's inside some- 
place. (Home Training dodges around them and dis- 
appears inside.) 
Passion — How abrupt! Who is he? 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 



Evil Thoughts — Some fellow they call Home Train- 
ing, I believe. He doesn't belong around here. 

Passion — Home Training? I never heard of him. 
(Laughs hilariously.) Come on, Evil Thoughts, let's 
fmd a nice cozy corner somewhere. Home Training? 
I should say he doesn't belong around here. (Both 
laugh carelessly.) (Exeunt.) 

(Re-enter Home Training from the dance hall.) 

Home Training — I can't find him anywhere. 

Manliness (coming in just behind him) — Find who? 

Home Training — Freshman. Have you seen him? 

Manliness — Why yes, I believe I saw him right here 
a few moments ago talking to High School Life and — 
uh — Procrastination. 

Home Training — Oh, Manliness, help me find him. 
He is so obstinate and headstrong. He locked me up 
in his room when he left for this place, but I got out. 
I am more powerful than he thinks. He can not thrust 
me aside so easily. Help me find him. Manliness. I 
know he needs me. 

Manliness — Done ! Come on, let's look this way first. 

(Exeunt to the right.) 

vn. 

The Renunciation. 

Discovered: Freshman's bedroom. Freshman, 
alone, sitting on edge of bed, holding head in his hands 
in attitude of remorsefulness. Enter Home Training 
slowly thru the door at right. 

Home Training — So here you are! Manliness and I 
have looked for you everywhere. Where were you? 

Freshman — Oh, Home Training, what shall I do? 
I have lost all my money ! 

Home Training — Lost all your money ? 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 89 



Freshman — Yes. I went with High School Life and 
Procrastination, and joined a crap game. Chance, 
Nicotine, Idleness, and Dishonesty were there. I look- 
ed on for a while until I could stand the temptation no 
longer. At first I won — a big handful of money. And 
then I began to lose until at last I had lost all that I 
had won, all that I had, and all that I could borrow. I 
tried to borrow more but no one would lend it to me, 
and so I had to come home. 

Home Training — What did you do with Good Times ? 

Freshman — She deserted me. 

Home Training — As she usually does! 

Freshman — Can't you help me? Lend me some 
money or do something? Oh, if I had only stopped 
while I had that handful of money. 

Home Training — Lend you money to gamble away 
again? I should say not! I am glad you lost — glad 
you didn't stop when you were winning. If you had 
quit then, you would have been eager to try your hand 
at it again. But you lost — and yes, money's not the 
only thing you have lost. 

Freshman — What else have I lost? 

Home Training — You have lost your self-respect. 
Whom have you been associating with lately? Idle- 
ness, Evil Thoughts, Nicotine, Good Times, Worldly 
Ways, and Passion, and all the rest, who have ruined 
thousands of young m.en before your time and now are 
ruining me. Oh, Freshman, why can't you see? Why 
do you not open your eyes and face the truth? You 
know it is the truth. Your conscience tells you so. 
And yet you go on, plunging blindly into the pathways 
of depravity and vitiation. Your associates already 
have a hold upon you. To-night's performance proves 
it. Soon they will drag you down into the whirlpool 
of self-indulgence and there you will sink, a derelict 



90 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

on the seas of Failure. Too late you will realize the 
error of your ways, when all of your friends have de- 
serted you and only the agony of soul and the torment 
of the flesh remain. 

Can you not see that these fiends are not your 
friends ? They are your enemies, the worst a man can 
have. Oh, Freshman, renounce them, cast them from 
you, break the shackles that bind your mind! It is 
not yet too late. Arouse up that spark of manhood 
that burns yet within you, make Detennination your 
companion, Manliness and Purity your ideal, Success 
your aim, and you shall conquer your foes, and ride on 
the waves of Prosperity. 

(Freshman, sitting on the bed, covers his face in his 
hands and begins to sob silently.) 

Home Training — But I see I cannot reason with 
you. No man's heart was ever touched thru reason- 
ing power. Pure reason has never provoked a man to 
change the tenor of his ways. He must be reached 
thru his emotions. The power of music, the grip of 
fear, a sudden shock ; these things may reach him, but 
reason never does. I can only pray, Freshman, that 
this powerful emotion will come soon. 

(Outside a shot.) 

Freshman (starting up) — What was that? Quick, 
Home Training, go see. 

(Exit Home Training running.) 

Freshman — Oh, how Home Training has pointed out 
to me the evil of my ways. And what he says must be 
true for he is old and experienced. What shall I do? 
Ah ! I must go back to the Little White House on the 
Hill — to Innocence, the playmate of my childhood. She 
will comfort me, and maybe I shall gain strength to 
overcome these enemies of mine. 

(Re-enter Home Training sadly.) 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 91 

Freshman — Quick, Home Training, what is it ? What 
has happened ? 

Home Training — Ah, Freshman ! It is sad news. Do 
you remember Innocence? 

Freshman — Yes, yes ; I was just thinking of her. You 
have opened my eyes this night. Home Training. I am 
w^retched. I must go back to Innocence. She will com- 
fort me. 

Home Training — Ah, Freshman, if you only could! 
But alas ! it is now too late. Innocence is dead. 

Freshman — What? Innocence, the playmate of my 
childhood dead? 

Home Training — It is only too true. She was mur- 
dered. 

Freshman — Murdered? My God! What shall I 
do ? Innocence — my Innocence, has been murdered. 
Who killed her? 

Home Training — Worldly Ways, Good Times, Pas- 
sion, and all your friends. Her love for you was so 
great that she could not stand to see you ruining your 
character by associating with them. She died of a 
broken heart. 

Freshman — My friends? Worldly W^ays, Good 
Times, and the rest! What have I done? Friends of 
mine? No! I shall kill them! 

Home Training — Ah, but you can't kill them. 

Freshman — Then I will renounce them! With the 
help of God, I'll renounce them ? Come, Home Training, 
you must help me. 

VIII. 

The Conquest. 

Discovered: A study. Enter Freshman and Home 
Training. 



92 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

Home Training — Well, Freshman, here we are, back 
into a healthful atmosphere again. Yonder is your 
desk and your school books. I learn from Education, 
your Teacher, that you are quite behind in your studies. 
It behooves you to settle down now and make up for 
lost time. 

Freshman — Yes, Home Training, I see. And what a 
pile of work I have to do! But I will not be discour- 
aged. I will show Manliness and his friends that I am 
fit to associate with them. As for Idleness, Procras- 
tination, Evil Thoughts, Nicotine, and the others, I will 
put them out of my mind altogether. 

Home Training — Good ! I like to hear you talk that 
way. Freshman. It shows that you are determined 
to overcome your enemies. 

Freshman — Thanks; but where's High School Life? 

Home Training — I sent him after some assistance 
for you. 

Freshman — Assistance? What help do I need? 

Home Training — Oh, you cannot get along without a 
few assistants. High School Life has gone after Study 
and Determination. They'll be here shortly. Determi- 
nation is especially a good all around fellow to chum 
with. 

Freshman — Determination? Oh, yes he's that grim 
looking chap, isn't he, that always keeps his mouth 
closed so tightly? He told me once that the longer I 
dallied with Procrostination and Idleness the more I 
would need him when I did finally settle down to work. 
And Study is the fellow that wears the tortoise shell 
spectacles. Yes, I'll be glad to have them. But Hsten, 
Home Training, about this fellow High School Life; 
don't you think he's the cause of all this? 

Home Training — No, I don't think so. You remem- 
ber the first time you met High School Life he told 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 93 



you that he had two sides to his nature— a good side 
and a bad side. He said that people generally found 
the side they looked for. You found the bad side be- 
cause you looked for it. You must now look for the 
good side and see for yourself how much better you 
will enjoy it. 

Freshman— You're right, Home Training. I'll try. 
Here they come now. 

Enter High School Life, Study, and Determination. 

High School Life— Ah, friends, here we are at last. 
Study and Determination, just the chaps for you. 
Freshman. I tried to get Concentration to come along! 
but he's a slippery fellow, and managed to get away 
from me. Said he might drop in later, tho, if things 
went well. 

Freshman— How can I ever thank you. High School 
Life? But how different you act! I thought you were 
neutral in this question of good or bad. 

High School Life— Oh, yes I'm neutral, but I prefer 
the good side of life to the bad. 

(They laugh. Study and Determination hold a con- 
versation in pantomime. Study then walks over and 
seats himself at Freshman's desk.) 

Determination— Come, Freshman, we have dallied 
long enough. Study is waiting for you over there. 

Freshman (sighing)— Well, the time is come at last. 
Good-bye, Procrastination ! (Determination takes him 
by the arm and together they walk toward the desk, 
where they sit down. Freshman between Study and 
Determination. 

High School Life— Come, Home Training, I think 
we'd better go. They can work better. 

Home Training— Yes, I don't think Freshman will 
forget me now. (They start to go out.) 

Freshman (calHng after them)— If you see Idleness 



94 HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 

hanging around outside anywhere, tell him to move 
along. This is no place for him. (Exeunt Home Train- 
ing and High School Life.) 

(Freshman now settles down to work. The lesson 
seems to be difficult and he frowns considerably over it. 
He consults Study and tries agin. He is about to give 
up in despair when Determination places a firm hand 
on his shoulder. He goes back to the lesson. Study has 
concentrated, and Freshman seems to be following him. 
Determination dozes off. Suddenly the sound of a 
klaxon and merry voices calling.) 

The Voices — Freshman! Freshman! 

Freshman (starting) — Who calls? Ah, it is Good 
Times and the rest of the bunch. Shall I answer them ? 
(Starts hesitatingly toward the door.) 

Determination (waking up) — Freshman! Where are 
you going / 

Freshman — Good Times is calling me. Do you not 
hear them ? 

The voices— Freshman ! Freshman! 

Determination — Come here and get this lesson. Do 
you not know that they are your enemies ? 

Freshman (returning to the desk) — No! I will not 
answer them. They are my enemies. 

(Knocking on the door and voices) — Freshman! 
Freshman I Let us in ! 

Freshman — No! You cannot come in. I am done 
with you. You have killed my Innocence. 

Voice of Good Times — Please, Freshman, let's go 
auto riding. 

Freshman — No, I'm busy. Go away! 

Voice of Evil Thoughts — Come on, fellows, let's break 
the door in. 

Freshman (running to the door) — Quick, Determin- 



HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS 95 



ation, help me hold the door. (Determination and 
Study join Freshman and all hold the door.) 

(Enter Home Training and High School Life from 
room at right.) 

Home Training— What's all the noise about, Fresh- 
man? 

Freshman— Quick, Home Training, help me hold the 
door. My enemies are breaking in. 

Home Training— Ah, now you really need me. Run 
High School Life and get Manhness and the others. 
Let us drive away those fiends. (Throws himself 
against door while High School Life dashes out door 
at right. Freshman, Determination and Home Train- 
ing hold the door against the onslaughts of the invad- 
ers. Once or twice the door seems about to fly open, 
but they manage to force it back again.) 

Suddenly a voice— Quick, fellows let's leave this 
place. Here comes Manliness and his whole troop of 
trained angels * * (Confusion and sounds of run- 
ning feet; all is still.) 

Freshman (leaning weakly against the door and mop- 
ping his brow)— Whew! That was a struggle. Oh, 
Home Training without you and Determination, I 
would surely have fallen into their hands again. 

Suddenly the door is thrown open and in come Manli- 
ness, Effort, Honor, Friendliness, Pleasure, Literary 
Endeavor, Athletic Endeavor, School Spirit, Optimism 
and Concentration ; High School Life following. 

Manhness— Why, what's the trouble? High School 
Life told us that things were going wrong here. 

Home Training— Things were; Idleness, Procrasti- 
nation, Nicotine, Good Times, and the rest of that 
crowd tried to get in here, but Freshman was firm, and 
they finally went away when they saw you coming. 



^S HIGH SCHOOL SCRIBBLINGS" 

Manliness — Ah, then Freshman has at last conquered 
his enemies? How about it, Freshman? 

Freshman — Yes, I hope so. But without Home 
Training and Determination I could never have done 
it. I realize now that Home Training is my best friend, 
and am indeed sorry that I didn't listen to him from 
the first. 

Manliness (turning to the company) — Good, Fresh- 
man. Friends, this is Freshman. He has met his temp- 
tations and has conquered them. He belongs to us now. 
(All gather around Freshman and begin to congratu- 
late him. Presently Manliness interposes.) 

Manliness — And now Freshman, you must let me in- 
troduce you to my sister, the purest, sweetest girl in 
all the w^orld, except dear Innocence. 

(Enter Purity, dressed in w^hite. All bow low.) 

Freshman — Ah ! 'Tis Purity ! the sister of Innocence 
and Manliness. Oh, Purity, how can you ever forgive 
me? 

Purity — Oh, Freshman, I forgave you the moment I 
learned you had conquered your foes. I am glad for 
your sake. You must now journey w4th these delight- 
ful companions, and some day you may learn to love 
me! 

Freshman — Oh, Purity, I love you now; I w^orship 
you! 

Purity — Perhaps; but you must travel with these 
people for a while to prove it. They are all journeying 
in the same direction, all have the same destination, and 
that is the Little White House on the Hill. And there, 
Freshman, will I wait for you, while you struggle up- 
ward with these good friends toward my home, the Lit- 
tle White House on the Hill! (She extends her hand 
to Freshman, who kneels and presses it to his lips.) 

(CURTAIN.) 



A maiden of delight, a vision to charm the eye, 
Passed slowly before me. As she went I breathed a 

sigh 
For her whose loveliness my sensitive heart had caught, 
And I pondered with zeal if this were The Girl I sought. 

I learned the m.aiden's name, went with her a time or 

two, 
Found tin beneath the glaze, found the color of the hue, 
The halo of romance, the beauty of the skin, 
Were only surface deep, leaving, left her cold and thin. 

Long had I known a girl, a quiet, homely, humble 

maid — 
Had left her on the farm while with tinsel I had played. 
The plainness of her dress, the quietness of her face, 
Obscured the rest of her, dimmed the beauty of her 

grace. 

She met me at the gate, with a caress on my arm. 
Looked long into her eyes, till I saw her cheeks grow^ 

warm. 
Felt that she had loved me, felt the beauty of her soul — 
Then saw the ringed finger, felt the justice of the toll. 



'■ s 



,4^!?^"^ ^^ CONGRESS