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which stood in the hall. Perhaps Jack would let him try it; perhaps he would catch that big trout himself; perhaps— The thought of that deep It was brown and clear, and He had seen the place often,
Bedtime brought him no sleep. pool by the ford kept him awake. there were little whirlpools in it. but was not allowed to go there alone.
"A great big one, Jack said it was a great big one," he said to himself. The strip of moonlight on the floor looked like rippling water. "A great big one!" he whispered tensely, then jumped out of bed and ran into his brother's room.
"Jack! Jack! Let's go now, let's catch him to-night!" he shouted, and pulled at the bed-clothes fiercely.
"Oh, go to sleep or I won't take you at all," came a drowsy mutter followed by a snore. A daring thought occurred to Tommy. Why not go alone? His mother wouldn't know, Jack wouldn't know, and when he brought that trout back to breakfast
He dressed quickly, and crept downstairs. What luck, the bait-box was nearly full! He picked it up, seized the rod and stole out into the night.
How strange everything looked; how still it was! Ahead of him the road glimmered in the moonlight. The air was heavy with the scent of balsam, and cool with dew.
"Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!" the mournful notes floated from the depths of the woods. Would they never stop? “Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!" was repeated incessantly. Should he go back to bed? Then the ghostly song died away.
Tommy glanced about him fearfully, and started down the road at a dog-trot. His shadow jerked fantastically as he moved. It looked like a black fiend pursuing him, so he relapsed into a walk.
Soon he could hear the murmur of running water; gradually it increased into a rushing gurgle. The road grew sticky, and his feet made a sucking noise as he lifted them.
He fastened a worm on his hook and waded into the ford. Little pebbles slid from beneath his feet. Below him the pool gleamed black and silver in the moonlight.
He swung the bait far out; it whirled around and disappeared.
Like a flash the sagging line became taut as a fierce tug
thrilled down the rod, and into the boy's heart. With both hands he gripped the cracking bamboo, and stepped slowly back towards the shore. The fish was giving ground; it was in shallow water now. A dusky shape flitted to and fro across the ford, but the line always followed. There was a last desperate struggle and a giant trout, flapping strongly, was dragged a good yard from the water. Then Tommy fell bodily upon his prize.
How could he wait to show it to them, how could he wait! His breath came in sobs, for he was running hard. The trout flapped and he gripped it with both hands. Even now he feared it might escape. How long the road was! Would he never get home? And what would they say when he did get home? And Jack-The house was in sight at last.
Horace Winston Stokes.
-A group of men sat on the benches before the Southmeadow general store smoking cigars-anyway, they looked like cigars. A yellow dog lay with his head between his paws and watched, with a malevolent eye, some chickens scratching in the road. Hi Barker tossed pebbles at the cur's head. "Yep," he said, "Hen Harris's wife has gone to visit her folks over to York State. I seen Hen as I was goin' down by thar this mornin' and he said she went last week." "Wal, I bet Hen's gladder'n hell to get rid of her," remarked another, "I couldn't stand havin' that woman araound the house, naow I tell you." "That's right, too," assented the crowd. They lapsed into silence again, gazing idly at the hazy ridges of the mountains.
The stage plodded wearily along through the choking dust with the United States mail and Mrs. Henry Harris as passengers. "Yes," she was explaining to Bill Lonnegan, the driver, "me an' Matilda couldn't git along together so I packed right up and come home." "That's too bad," said Bill consolingly, "I allow Hen an' the kids has missed you, not being used to havin' you away." Mrs. Harris watched him suspiciously, but he sat with evident unconciousness of her scrutiny. "Well, I 'spects they have," she said, "but they can't have me there all
the time." "That's right," acknowledged Bill. He whistled softly "The Sweet Bye-and Bye," and a deep silence was maintained for the rest of the way.
A buggy drawn by an aged gray mare rushed wildly through Southmeadow street. On the seat sat Hen Harris, making an heroic attempt to sit straight. "Git, thar!" he yelled, cracking his whip at a flock of chickens, and they scattered, wildly clucking. Down the hill to the store dashed the team and pulled up with a jerk that threw Hen in a heap on the floor of the buggy. "Warm day," he shouted to the assemblage, picking himself up. "That's right," said Hi Barker, his eye on a jug in the rear of the wagon. "Been coolin' off, Hen?" A roar of laughter rose from the audience. Hen eyed him distrustfully. "Hey?” he yelled. "I asked if it warn't coolin' off some, didn't I?” replied Hi. "Wal, naow, it be a little, I reckon,” said Hen. The crowd roared again in glee. Hen regarded them with disfavor. "What you laughin' at?" he yelled in rage. "You
suckers, for two cents I'd clean aout the bunch of you, naow, b' Judas, I would." He ran his eye up and down the line, nodding emphatically. They grinned sickly grins and shifted in their seats. "Aw, come naow, Hen, you don't mean that," good-naturedly ventured one. "Don't, hey? Wal, I'll learn you pretty damn quick what I mean." He crawled unsteadily out of the buggy. The yellow dog rose to its feet and showed its fangs, growling savagely. Hen swayed on his feet, watching it with careful deliberation. Then he aimed a mighty kick at the canine, who deftly avoided it, and Hen's toe was planted with terrific force against the lean flank of the With a snort of surprise and pain she gave a jump and dashed off down the street. Hen stood sadly gazing after her. "Hell!" he ejaculated. A cloud of dust in the distance denoted the approach of some vehicle.
He turned mournfully and, without further notice of the inhabitants of the benches, entered the store. "Gimme a plug of 'Navy,'" he yelled to the store-keeper. The latter calmly went on weighing sugar. Hen glared at him. "Did you hear me askin' for a plug of terbaccer, Dave Gill?" he yelled. “I did," briefly responded the store-keeper. "Then, why'n hell don't you give it to me," said the wrathful man. The placid Gill wrapped a string around the neck of the bag and snapped
it with his hands. "Look y' here, Hen Harris," he replied, "you behave yourself. Ain't you ashamed, gittin' drunk and swearin' round when your wife's up to York State and can't keep an eye on ye! Naow, you go right home and lay daown and sleep it off and wife'll take care of the kids." Hen regarded him with amazement. "Afraid to git drunk when my wife's to hum?" he yelled in apoplectical rage. "You hear me, Dave Gill, I ain't afraid of my wife nor nobody like her! You kin tell her I said so." "HENRY HARRIS!" an awful voice re-echoed through the rafters of the house. The unfortunate addressed turned fearfully around. In the door stood his better, and, alas, stronger half. Behind her appeared the grinning face of Bill Lonnegan. "It ain't necessary for you to give me his message, Mister Gill," grimly remarked Mrs. Harris. "You come along with me, Henry." She fastened a hold on the ear of the now thoroughly chastened Hen and marched him out of the door and down the street.
The group before the store watched them disappear around the corner of the meeting-house in silence. A deep breath rose like a sigh on the heavy August air. "Hen's goin' to ketch it," softly murmered Hi Barker.
Henry A. Beers, Jr.
On March 7, was presented by Herr Conried.
Beta Theta Pi
On March 7, announced the elections of the following men from the class of 1907: Richard Douglas Davis, Jr., of Ashland, Ky.; Paul Alexander Drucklieb, of Stapleton, S. I., N. Y.; Russell Stearns Dwight, of Wyoming, O.; William Spencer Fuller, of Suffield, Conn.; Joseph Casimir Kircher, of Belleville, Ill.; Robert Edwards Pfeiffer, of Columbus, O.; George Boardman Potter, of Hartford, Conn.; Ralph Eugene Weber, of Waterville, N. Y.; Ernest Cousins Wheeler, of Norwalk, Conn.
The Ten Eyck Competitors
On March 12, were announced as follows: Howard Francis Bishop of Chicago, Ill.; William Ernest Collins of Livingston, N. J.; Rolland Mooney Edmonds of Springfield, O.; E. H. Hart of Brooklyn, N. Y.; Edwin Deeks Harvey of Rock Ferry, England; Marshall Olds Johnson of Chicago, Ill.; Henry Stow Lovejoy of Jonesville, Wis.; Albert Billings Ruddock of Chicago, Ill.; Clarence William Seymour of Granby, Conn.; Donald McLean Somers of Brooklyn, N. Y.; Walter Bertram Wolf of Chicago, Ill.
The Relay Team
On March 13, lost the one mile event to Cornell in the N. Y. A. C. games.
The Civic Clubs
On March 13, elected W. S. Moorhead, 1906, President. On March 15, they were addressed by President Roosevelt.
The "Yale News"
On March 16, held its 29th annual banquet at the University Club.