Iron County register., 1895-06-13
The Tragedy Of 0akdale.
FOUNDED ON FACT.

Many years ago there was a high
school for boys in one of the many
beautiful valleys of Ozark Mountains.
The building was situated at the base
of a mountain, and the observatory
commanded a magnificent view of the
valley. AT the right and a little be-
hind the main building. stood a little
two-roomed cottage, once the home OF
pioneer settlers, now remodeled and
fitted up as dormitory for the stud
ents which overfiowed the large build
ing.
The students, who occupied this cot
tage, considered it the highest priv
ilege that could be given them: because
of their removal from the immediate
supervision of the professors they were
trusted to be always on good behavior.
Woe to the boy who took advantage of
the trust.
The sun floods the hills with light
one glorious day of early spring, as
Jesse Norman adds few lines to the
letter written last night. His brother
Alfred and cousin, John, are more de-
liberate in their toilet, having arrived
at the age where the cravat must be
tied just so precise, and each speck of
dust carefully brushed from coat and
shoes. Will Frisbie. the fourth occu-
pant of the room is having final tus-
sic with the curls that refuse to lie
straight on the high white forehead,
and now the breakfast bell is heard.
Jess hurriedly finished his letter.
and with inky fingers followed his
companions. While he is gone we
will read the letter which he has left
on the table.
OAKDALE, April IA.
Dear Mother-Your letter came day
before yesterday, and I can't wait any
long to answer. Prof. Minard is a
brick! To-day he said if we would
have as good lessons tomorrow as we
have had every day this week he will
get some wagons and take US all down
to Rock Creek for fishing on Satur-
day. Joe Knight says he's been there,
and there are just the old fellows in
the creek! | wish it was Saturday now
and you could go with us and cook our
fish. Ed. Mays says he wishes there
were some girls in this place: he thinks
picnic is no good without girls. He
is afraid to touch worm to bait his
hook and afraid he will get his boots
muddy if he looks at the creek bank.
1t is only two months now until school
will be out. Alf. says he can't write
this time, because his Algebra lesson
is harder than usual and he would not
fail tomorrow for anything. l must
stop and study my History.
Morning-It is fine day. / am in
an awful hurry for tomorrow, but
there are all the lessons to-day. Good
bye, mother. I hope you are quite we'll.
Don't let Daisy forget me. Tell Alice
I think of her often. The breakfast
bell! Your boy,
JESS NORMAN.
The long day of trial is over.
Twenty-Five boys gather in groups OF
threes and fives discussing the prom
ised treat. Do you think that every
lesson was recited perfectly? that no
whispering was done? Boys are boys
and there are many kinds of boys, and
although Prof. Ross was severe, he was
always just.
Prof. Minard was hot-headed, irrita-
BILE and at times unjust, but he really
liked the boys and would willingly go
out of his way to give them pleasure.
Some loved him devotedly while others
hated him quite as fervently.
..See that tthunder-head?" said Ralph
Seibert pointing to white capped
cloud rising behind Cedar Mountain.
..Bet you a dollar it will rain to-mor-
row."
1.-The fish will bite all the better in
the rain,n said Joe Knight.
..Who wants to go fishing in the
rain," said Ed. Mays, 81 don't, I'm
sure"
..You need not worry said Walter
Horner. prof. won't let US go in the
rain; he would be afraid of getting his
fine hat wet. / wish he would get his
head wet. I'm afraid it will blaze
sometimes when he gets so awful mad.
..He never gets mad when boy be-
haves himself, he is a long ways bet
ter than we deserve;'' this from Will,
who was a prime favorite with the
professors, matron and boys.
Many anxious eyes took last look
at the threatening clouds ere they
were closed in sleep. The eastern
room of the little cottage was occupied
by Frank Gates, strong. carefree,
homely youth, the athlete in all games
and Harry Brown, a timid oook-worm.
The first low rumble of thunder