Judge — June 26, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ITH much shuffling of feet and a sound like the murmur of many running waters, all Hicksville, including Jim Hicks, the mule trader, wear- ing upon his neck a collar three and three- eighths inches high and bearing upon his arm Miss Floretta Mayberry, aged thirty- nine, had filled the auditorium of the Hicksville High School. There were perfumed handkerchiefs, sighs, lisps, prattle; and there was expec- tation and hush, The Principal, perspiration of moist mid- June standing bead-like upon his forehead, called upon The Reverend Mr. Dovecote; and the Pastor's opening prayer was deliv- ered in a voice as smooth as oil flowing through a sieve. The Hicksville male quartet sang. The audience recovered. Young Samuel Archibald Stearns, Com- mencement orator of the class of '15, ad- vanced to the very edge of the platform, a deep line of anguish upon his lofty, shining brow and a look of desperate hopefulness upon his face; he gazed upon Hicksville, MODERN MATERNAL CARE Florrie—Ain’t ye comin’ to th’ dance to-night, Annie? Annie—No. SAMUEL ARCHIBALD STEARNS By FRED LADD suppressed a spasm, and, with a masterful effort, thought of the first sentence of the Magnificent oration which he had written, opening with that remarkable allegorical and descriptive passage: ¢ ‘*Beneath the moon's pale light, the lovely lawn lay like a lake of lucent glory.”’ His knees shook, he choked back a sob and began: **Beneath the pail’s moon light—huh— beneath the poon’s male light’’—— He tried again: ‘* Beneath the loon’s pale might, the lakely lawn’’, The audience stirred uneasily, and a cur- tain at the window flapped violently. Bill Stiggins, in the front row, hiccoughed; Flossie Pitman buried her face in her hand- kerchief. Samuel Archibald Stearns turned piteously to the Principal and met a stony gaze. “Beneath the lawn's pale—— “Beneath the pale moon light, the lady Jawn''—— There was a deadly silence of an instant. “Oh, my Gosh!"" said Jim “Why don’t you say it?’’ hissed The Principal. loon light, the 1 wouldn't dare trust the baby with its mother. Terry McGue, the Blacksmith, knotted his powerful hands. A hysteric titter burst from Gertie Smith. Raising his arm in a gesture of fierce abandon, Samuel Archibald declared: **Beneath the pool's main light, the lovely lawn lay like a luke of’’—— “Oh, Lord!"* ejaculated The Principal. Half the audience were rocking convul- sively in their seats. An ill-suppressed scream came from Samuel Archibald’s sis- ter Mabel. His parents were dying. Compassion rested upon the assemblage. “*Beneath the pale moon light,’’ sternly spake the orator in agonized accents, ‘‘the —the—the lawnly love’ —— The orator tottered; the Reverend Mr. Dovecote sprang forward and caught his crumpling form. Samuel Archibald straightened, then glared at the audience. The Principal rose. ‘*The—er—intense heat has proven too much—er—our young friend is—er—not at his best’’ Samuel cast away the Pastor's supporting arm, brushed aside The Principal, bowed to the audience and defiantly hurled this at them: ‘Beneath the pale moon light, the lovely lawn lay like a lake of lucent glory !’" Then he went on. Game Sport, that Boy! Could you do it? comicbooks.com