Other editions of book The Spirit of the School

Ralph Henry Barbour's original "The Spirit of the School," written about tales of football and other sports in school, has been and will continue to be an inspirational source of reading enjoyment for young men and adults for decades to come. It not only teaches the author's ideal conception of the importance, but also the precepts of sports, teamwork, and school spirit; A much needed, recommended, and idealistic guide for young men and adults. A first publication in 1907, by Ralph Henry Barbour (November 13, 1870 – February 19, 1944). Read and enjoy...

"It's all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle." "Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!" "Well, gargoyle," continued Bert Middleton. "What's the difference? Of course, it's easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn't your funeral; but I guess if you'd had all your plans made up only to have them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute--" "I know," said Harry Folsom soothingly. "It's rotten mean luck. I'd have told the doctor that I wouldn't do it."

"It's all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle." "Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!" "Well, gargoyle," continued Bert Middleton. "What's the difference? Of course, it's easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn't your funeral; but I guess if you'd had all your plans made up only to have them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute--" "I know," said Harry Folsom soothingly. "It's rotten mean luck. I'd have told the doctor that I wouldn't do it." "But it wasn't his fault, you see. It's dad that's to blame for the whole business. You see, it was this way. The Danas used to live up in Feltonville when I was a kid, and dad and Mr. Dana were second cousins or something, and were sort of partners in a sawmill and one or two things like that. Hansel Dana was about my age, maybe a year younger, and we used to play together sometimes. But his mother used to take him away on visits in the summer, and so we didn't get very chummy. The fact is I never cared much for him. He was sort of namby-pamby, and used to read kid's books most all the time.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IN A NEW RÔLE “It’s all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle.” “Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!” “Well, gargoyle,” continued Bert Middleton. “What’s the difference? Of course, it’s easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn’t your funeral; but I guess if you’d had all your plans made up only to have them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute——” “I know,” said Harry Folsom soothingly. “It’s rotten mean luck. I’d have told the doctor that I wouldn’t do it.” “But it wasn’t his fault, you see. It’s dad that’s to blame for the whole business. You see, it was this way. The Danas used to live up in Feltonville when I was a kid, and dad and Mr. Dana were second cousins or something, and were sort of partners in a sawmill and one or two things like that. Hansel Dana was about my age, maybe a year younger, and we used to play together sometimes. But his mother used to take him away on visits in the summer, and so we didn’t get very chummy. The fact is I never cared much for him. He was sort of namby-pamby, and used to read kid’s books most all the time. Mr. Dana died when I was about twelve, and Mrs. Dana and Hansel went out to Ohio to live with relatives. Then this summer dad gets a letter from her saying that she wants to send Hansel to a good school in the East, and asking his advice. And nothing would do for dad but that the little beggar must come here to Beechcroft and room with me!

Except with a few fellows who, in spite of these failings, had stuck to him long enough to discover his better qualities, he was not very popular. His election the preceding year to the captaincy of the football team had come to him as a tribute to his playing ability and not his popularity. He was strikingly good looking, with very black hair and snapping black eyes, and in spite of the fact that he was but eighteen years old, he tipped the gymnasium scales at 170 and stood six feet all but an inch. He was generally acknowledged to have won a place on the All-Preparatory Football Team of the year before, and was without doubt the best full back Beechcroft Academy had ever had. Just at present his expression was not particularly attractive, his forehead being wrinkled into a network of frowns and his mouth drawn down with discontent. Both boys were in their senior year members of what at Beechcroft is called the Fourth Class.

"It’s all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle.” “Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!” “Well, gargoyle,” continued Bert Middleton. “What’s the difference? Of course, it’s easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn’t your funeral; but I guess if you’d had all your plans made up only to have them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute——” “I know,” said Harry Folsom soothingly. “It’s rotten mean luck. I’d have told the doctor that I wouldn’t do it.” “But it wasn’t his fault, you see. It’s dad that’s to blame for the whole business. You see, it was this way. The Danas used to live up in Feltonville when I was a kid, and dad and Mr. Dana were second cousins or something, and were sort of partners in a sawmill and one or two things like that. Hansel Dana was about my age, maybe a year younger, and we used to play together sometimes. But his mother used to take him away on visits in the summer, and so we didn’t get very chummy. The fact is I never cared much for him. He was sort of namby-pamby, and used to read kid’s books most all the time. Mr. Dana died when I was about twelve, and Mrs. Dana and Hansel went out to Ohio to live with relatives. Then this summer dad gets a letter from her saying that she wants to send Hansel to a good school in the East, and asking his advice. And nothing would do for dad but that the little beggar must come here to Beechcroft and room with me!