8
l'HE CHEMAWA AMERICAN
A JUNIOR'S DREAM.
One evening as I idly thought of school days
long ago,
A mist-seemed o'er my vision drifting;
I saw my classmates' faces,
I heard their voices low.
First I seemed on board a steamer,
Eugene Williams stood on its deck;
He was a captain of the ocean liner,
Short and sturdy and erect.
Then the scene was changed a little,
Along the streets of a city I seemed to walk;
At the door of a large millinery store,
With Katie Henry I stopped to talk.
Then in Europe I was wandering,
Paris was the town I knew,
I caught a glimpse of Lizzie Beaver,
Then Leon Reinken, my classmate, too.
Then on the baseball field I gazed,
Thinking of good times in the dormitory;
For long and loud the cheers were raised,
For the great pitcher, Thomas J. McCully.
And next into a high school room I locked.
There stood the teacher at her desk ;
Yes, Sara Brewer, was the teacher,
Trying, as in school, to do her best.
And again I saw the leader of a woman's club,
Vernie Cliff, as I could plainly see;
And at her desk there was a girl I knew,
Twas her secretary, Margaret Lowry.
And next I saw the president of an odd club,
Ed. McClellan, as I could plainly see,
And his secretary was Clarence Lewis,
Who at his desk looked natural to me.
Switzerland's beauties next appeared to me
And at a famous Alpine inn
I saw the two well-remembered trackers,
Big Joe and Calvin Darnell were on the
scene.
Again 1 gazed into a schoolroom bright,
This time it was a kindergarten room;
Levi Sortor tried with main and might
To teach the children what was right.
Next, a mighty shouting I then heard,
And saw a great crowd in a park;
'Twas Geo. J . Williams, the great politician,
At whose eloquence I could not help remark.
And then into a city power house I looked,
There stood the boss right at his post;
Yes, Fred Lewis was the boss,
Trying as always, to do his very best.
And then in Boston to a concert great I went,
And heard two wonderfully great musicians
play,
None other than our old friend Walter Miller
And our other classmate, Alex Cajete.
Then as the occasion became a little brighter,
Into a cozy city home I seemed to peer;
There sat John McCush and Michel Wilson,
Great writers with pens behind their ears.
Next a bugle call 1 heard,
It rang out loud and clear;
I saw General Albert Garry
Fighting for his country dear. .
Then in a lawyer's office next I saw,
There swiftly writing with his pen,
Sat Loulin Brewer, the great lawyer
1 thought of school days again.
Alas! the vision fades softly away.
And I see not my classmates dear;
I see only life's clear reality
But in mind these words 1 hear:
"Oh! here's to the class the Juniors
This class of nineteen-nine;
We'll try to do our best in life's pathway,
And to success we'll endeavor to climb."
Juniors yet, we need not say farewell,
Another year ere school life will be past;
Then we'll wish each other well
And friendship's faith will still hold fast.
Thomas G. Holden, '09.
"Affection for children is an Indian
characteristic, ' says Dr. Charles S.
Moody of Idaho. kl have never seen
an Indian Mother or Father punish a
child, nor have I ever seen an Indian
child cry. An Indian child never sobs
when hurt. Just an extra snap of the
bright black eyes and a slight frown is
all to indicate to the observed that the
little fellow is suffering. I have never
heard even an Indian baby cry." Port
land Journal.