Altavista High School - Nuntius Yearbook (Altavista, VA)

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pervert eurececewre Punting ecrce Me Wane Ge Gee ee ee 7. ae @ eo “a9 “a a? a” a 42a? as so 2s was Edward English. The lawyers were Ernest Gaddy and Robert Clark. The voice of Gaddy roared, “brown eyes would make anybody beautiful.” The answer came from Lawyer Clark, “Science teaches the color blue throws off light and heat, and attracts, while brown is a dull somber color.” The Judge’s decision was without question—gray eyes throw off light and heat, attract, absorb interest, compel and bind forever. Again the vision changed; now I saw a beautiful home and in front of it was a man trying to sell a sport roadster to a prosperous-looking woman. I could see her shake her head, re- fusing to buy, but the salesman finally erased all doubt from her mind and she bought it. The high-powered salesman was Earle McCormick and the woman was Virginia Finch. I gazed again into the fumes. I saw a stage, a musical comedy was being given. I recog- nized in the chorus of beautiful girls Estelle Wilburn and Frances Barrett. Naturally they would be together. My glance switched from the stage to where the orchestra was situated. Who should be directing it but William Rountrey. Oh! Yes it was Ziegfield’s theater. The fumes died down and the witches stirred the contents of the pet three times. Again the smoke arose. I saw a magnificient home. A man and woman came out of it quarreling or arguing vigorously, but before they got te the limousine that was waiting for them, the woman had persuaded the man to her side of the argument. He looked very happy. I recognized Graham McCartney and Lemma Owen. Next I saw a school house, and in one of the class-reoms I saw Eleanor Morris teaching English and trying her best to imitate Mrs. Rowbotham. She had her class giving one oral report after the other. Sull wandering through class rooms, as in days of yore, a man sauntered in; the teacher addressed him as Professor Owen. Could it be Gordon Owen, my classmate? The scene changed into another classroom. I saw Beverly Wilkinson teaching a large Latin class. I heard her say “Class, never use a pony, for an aeroplane will carry you much faster.” The contents of the pot bubbled down. The first witch asked me if I cared to see more. I eagerly told her to reveal the fortunes of my other classmates. The witches danced around the pot, stirring it as before. Another vision arose before my eyes. I saw many books. Standing by the books that had made her famous was Ethel Anthony, the author of them all. I saw more books, forbidding looking, that appeared to be Histories. I looked closer to see who the author of such imposing books could be. To my surprise there it was in big letters the name, Mr. Marion Durwood Fitzgerald. I gazed again into the fumes that arose from the caldron. This time I saw a handsome man dressed in sport clothes, surrounded by a crowd of admiring girls. It was John East, the shiek of the class of 1930, living up to his old motto, “All play and no work makes John a happy boy.” I looked closer. I saw a girl in a gymnasium coaching basketball. The little figure looked familiar. I then recognized “Duck Waldon.” Next I saw a man traveling from city to city. He would stop at each city and lecture to great crowds of people who drank in his words. His lectures evidently pertained to farming for I heard him say, “When I lived in Leesville I raised the fattest pigs in the county.” I hadn’t known at first who he was, but now I knew it could be none other than Sammy Mattox. I saw another -picture. It was Velma Doss busily washing dishes in a neat kitchenette. Ancther ring. matching “The Diamond,” was on her finger. A man nearby was helping dry the dishes, but the vision changed before I could) recognize him. The University of Virginia loomed before me. Curiosity drew me into an unfamiliar building, entitled “Motorcycle Department.” The instructor was Aileen Wood. Another vision arose before my eyes, | saw Margaret Jones happily married and living in Altavista. I now became more interested, for I realized that the caldron had revealed to me the future of every member of the class of 1930. I next expected it to portray my own future. But I was disappointed, for the witches jumped into the pot and passed through the roof of the cave, with a roar as of thunder, without giving me even a hint as to my own future. I suddenly awoke to find that I had fallen asleep while preparing a theme on Macbeth, to hand in to Mrs. Rewbotham the next day. As I picked up the book and read over the scene ef the three witch-s on the heath, I smiled and wondered if any part of my dream would ever come true. THe PropHet (HELEN LANE). 19

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e's : ' ay Proph ecy After wandering wearily through the dense forest for hours, and having given up all hope of finding the path I cyidently had lost, I heard a mysterious voice mumbling at my side. I turned to see who could be so near me, but net one soul did I spy. “It must be that my imagination is running wild,” I thought, and I continued to push my way through the thick bushes, still seeking to find the path that would lead me out of the terrible predicament I seemed to have gotten myself inte. “Turn to your left at the willow tree,” said the small mysterious voice still apparently at my side; and filled with awe and wonder at whose voice could be directing. me, I followed its instructions. I turned to the left at the willow tree and followed the path before me for about a quarter cf a mile. There directly in front of me was a huze cpening, which looked like the cpening to a cave. “Should I venture in?” I asked myself. And to solve my question the strange voice, this time in front of me said, “Enter the cave but take precaution to abanden all malicious thought and suspicion from your mind.” Timidly venturing into the dark and ghostly leoking cavern, | saw seated around a fire three persons whom I imagined were witches. They beckoned to me to come near, and I ad- vanced with trembling knees, yet with an unusual amount of curiosity. “Seat yourself, stranger,” said the first witch. “Fear no harm, wanderer,” continued the second witch. “Come near to the fire and join in our spirit of cengeniality, there is only good in our intentions and many facts of interest to you,” said the third witch, “are hidden in this pot, and we have stirred it for hours until you should arrive here guided by the veice of our mystic attendant.” Each witch stirred with a weoden stick the contents of the pot, and as they stirred they sang three times, “Bubble, bubble, Toil and trouble, Fire burn and Caldren bubble.” After dancing around the fire the first witch said, “The pot is now ready to reveal its mysteries. Come near, stranger, and prepare to see the secrets it alone can reveal.” H-avy fumes arose from the pot and in them was formed a picture, a vague picture it was, yet I realized that it was a young woman, very business-like in a blue smock, painting a view of the landscape on the canvas in front of her. The honk of a horn interrupted her work; she turned from the canvas, painted her lips and dashed out of the door of her studio. Yes, it was Lillian Arthur. The vision faded and another picture was formed; this time I saw a quaint little cottage with flowers all around it. A girl was hanging on the gate, seemingly waiting for the man in overalls, who was coming over the hill, carrying two pails cf milk. I marvelled at the con- tentment expressed in their faces. The picture became clearer and I saw that they were my schoolmates, Winfree Hughes and Shirley Snyder. From the looks of the clothes on the line in the back of the house, there seemed to be more than just the two of them. The picture passed away and the witches danced around the fire, stirring the contents of the pot and chanting their weird song. Another picture was fermed in the fumes, this time I saw a nurse walking briskly through the hall of a large hospital. She was very important- looking and many nurses stopped and consulted her. To be sure, it was Katherine Morris, now superintendent of Jefferson Hospital. Again the vision changed. I gazed into the fumes and I saw a girl sitting at a desk busily writing. She was in a newspaper office. I could see the title of the article’ she was writing— it was “Points in Love.” I immediately recognized Maude Smith. I drew nearer; this time I saw a man directing the construction of a large building. Of course it could have been no other than Lawrence McCormick. The fumes died down and the witches again stirred the mixture in the caldron. This time the vision was clearer than before; I saw a beautiful town. Why! it was Altavista, but how changed. It was now a large city. I saw a crowded courtroom. The red-headed judge presiding 18 a” - 2. s 2? 2-2 a 4? 2 2% 9? 9 3? 2»? se .- 3? S - S -S? S ’ + iy weer wrn coerwee PUN 1 er rn Cer errr rey s 0. @ 2g -3 2 3-?- 3? 3? 3? Te al ae ee ee aT ee ee ee oe ee ee ee ee ee ee Ee Ee ee ee

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‘ , we terererere rer econ PLUNIING cere tere te ee et Last Will and ‘Testament I, Beverly Wilkinson, the appointed testator of this conglomerate mass of con- ccntrated ignorance, designated as the graduating class of Altavista High School, and being of unreasonable mind do originate, perpetuate, create this, the last will ard testament of the aforesaid class, hereby revoking all other and former wills made by us at any time. We wish to give, bequeath, and everlastingly dispose of, after our many debis, lawful and otherwise, are paid, the following fragments of our shattered career to the designated persons, whether they need them or not. ARTICLE I Te the various members of our esteemed faculty we give and bequeath the following: 1.—To Mr. Childs— (A) A new whistle which will not be so shrill as the old one. (B) A new golf set for two. 2.—To Miss Phillips— A place in the Hall of Fame, as a reward for her heroic efforts in helping this group of mental deficients to graduate. 3.—To Mrs. Rowbotham— (A) A new picture to be used in the future annuals. (B) A new method of teaching English Literature, so that there will not be so many monotonous reports. 4.—To Miss Woodson— (A) Any color dress except blue, in order that there will be no more History IV written lessons. (B) A special edition of “The Altavista Journal.” 5.—To Mr. Crigler— One of the grade teachers who has not yet been “spoken for.” ARTICLE II 1,—To the. Junior Class — The use of Room No. 11 for a whole session; and may they have better suc- cess with the fifth edition of the NUNTIUs. 2.—To the Sophomore Class— A whole carload of “Caesar Ponies.” 3.—To the Freshman Class— (A) An automatic chalk and eraser thrower. (B) A speedometer to regulate their speed while marching down stairs. ARTICLE III To the entire school— (A) Our model line (?) 20 i 2 a 2a? sa 2a? 2? a» ao? 2 oro? 2? 2? 2? as oo 2 2% a -s as .3 s -s .- v4.) -a 3 2? was a» 2a a s aos?