Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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4 THE (iREEN AND WHITE Editorial GREETINGS At last the 1922 edition of the “Green and White” is at hand. The editorial staff has striven, to the best of its ability, to put forth a magazine embracing the literary achievements of the pupils of the Colt Memorial High School. We hope that you will receive it gratefully and give it your ardent support. -----o------ PREPAREDNESS Few pupils of the Colt Memorial High School realize the importance of preparedness. They wait until the last minute to do their work and then, on account of the great haste, their work is not properly done. When they are given a lesson to do. they neglect it until it is too late to do it well and in their great haste they made numerous, careless mistakes that would not have been made otherwise. A number of pupils go through the school year in an indolent manner, just getting by, and when examinations come they fail to do their work conscientiously, and likewise the pupils fail to respond to the call for material for the “Green and White” until the end of the school year draws to a close and thus the school paper is not as good as it should be. Therefore, in behalf of the school, we ask you to respond promptly in the future to the call of the “Green and White” staff and not wait until the school year is almost over, which makes it necessary to exercise great haste. EXCHANGES We have accepted with pleasure the following exchanges and only wish the list were longer: “The White and Gold,” Woodbury, N. J. The “Argus,” Shelton, Conn. “The Enfield Echo, Thompsonville, Conn. “The Gleaner,” Pawtucket, R. I. The “Red and White, Rochester, N. H. The “Maroon and White,” La Salle Academy, Providence, R. I. The Bulletin,” Lafayette, La. The “Weathervine.” The “X-Ray,” Sacramento, Cal. The “Echo,” New Iberia. La. The “Shield,” Haddonfield, N. J. ------o----- AS WE SEE OTHERS Gold and White: Always good and most interesting. Fine editorials. Maroon and White: More stories would improve your very interesting book. The Argus: Your Literary Department is especially good, only there is not enough of it. The Gleaner: An all-around funny, amusing and interesting paper. THE HAUNTED HOUSE The house was haunted. The whole town said so. Old Doc Winters had seen a ghost in the window of the southwest chamber on the second floor. Jim Ames, the village grocery-boy, had heard queer rattlings a number of times, as he had passed by. No one had lived in the house for twenty years. It was the old Stanton homestead. The last of the family to live there was young Bob Stanton with his wife and two

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3 ie St reen ana ' Y ite VOL. V. JUNE, 1922 No. 1 ISSUED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE COLT MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL, BRISTOL. R. I. Editor-in-Chief. JOSEPH WALSH, ’22 Assistant Editor JAMES RUGGIERO. ’22 Business Manager MARY MORRIS, '22 Literary Editors REGINA M. MORRIS. '22 SAMUEL El SEN BERG, ’23 Exchange Editor FRANCES HOPKINS. ’23 Assistant Business Manager MARGARET NERONE, ’23 Joke Editor WALTER WENNERSTRAND. ’22 Circulation Manager STETSON CLOWES. ’22 Alumni Editor ANNIE D. SISSON. ’14 Assistant Circulation Manager EILEEN MOORE, ’23 PRICE Faculty Advisor SARA C. CALLAN 2 5 CENTS TABLE OF EDITORIAL 4 LITERATURE ...................... 4 The Haunted House ............... 4 The American Girl ............. 6 The Groomless Wedding ........... 6 To a Book Report ..........-..... 7 Let There Be Peace .............. 7 A Life of Dreams ............... 7 The Steel Armor ................. 8 The Mystery of Brandon Mill ..... 9 Only a Bomb ..................... 9 CONTENTS Playthings of Fate ........ 10 A Mysterious Stranger ......11 Tom’s Christmas ........ - 12 Wednesday Morning ..........12 SENIORS ................... 13 Class Notes ...... -...—..13 Plays and Players of C. M. H. S.13 ATHLETICS ................ 14 CHIPS ......................14 ALUMNI .....................16

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 5 tiny golden-haired children. The wealthy Stantons had always been great favorites with the townspeople. But one day something happened. Bob Stanton’s young wife and their three-years old son were stricken with a fever that these Northern people had never before heard of. Four days later they were buried in the little cemetery and Bob Stanton found himself left with only his baby daughter, Priscilla. Bob Stanton had always loved to roam about the world at random. He had done little traveling since he had been married, but now Louise was gone—and he was alone, he must get away. He could not stand the house where he and Louise had been so happy with their two children. At every turn he saw her face. In the diningroom; in the garden; in the village; she was always there. Suddenly he made his decision and he immediately wrote to Cousin Jane in New Hampshire to come at once as he was leaving for Africa in two weeks. Cousin Jane came, Cousin Jane saw, but Cousin Jane did not conquer. Within two weeks Bob Stanton was aboard ship from New York to Africa, and Cousin Jane wras journeying northward with the motherless Priscilla. The Stanton house stood empty for the following twenty years, while the owner traveled from one unknown place to another. When Priscilla was fifteen, she joined her father in London and they traveled all over Europe and Asia for the following five years. But one day in France, Priscilla’s father was in an automobile accident. After two weeks of suffering he died and was buried in Paris. He had never returned to America since that sorrowful summer, twenty years ago. Now 'that Priscilla was left alone, she longed for America and home. The first of May found her back at the old Massachusetts town. The house was in a wretched condition. The gardens which had once beeni the pride of the country were now over-run with weed's; the white paint had peeled off in many places; the hinges on the doors and shutters were rusted; and the panes of glass in many of the windows were broken. Shortly after her return Priscilla received a typewritten letter from Morton Jackson, attornevs-a’t-law. Again fate was against her. Through an investment she had lost all of her money save a few hundred dollars. Aunt Jane, as Priscilla called her. had again answered Priscilla’s call and had come to Massachusetts to live with Bob’s daughter. In June, Ravmond Moreland, a young lawyer, appeared. He was alone in the world until he met Priscilla. Thev became firm friends and spent many hours together roaming through the woods or sailing on the bay. During her tew months in the old home Priscilla had frequently heard queer noises and flutterings, which seemed to come from the southwest chamber on the second floor. This room had been her mother’s. Priscilla openly scorned such foolish things as “ghosts.” But, sometimes—well, it was queer. The room in question had never been entered since that night twenty years ago. when her mother had died; and because of her dying of an unknown disease it worked upon the imaginations of the country people. One night early in July, Priscilla went to her room early. Ray Mooreland had gone to Boston two days before on a business trip to last a week. Priscilla was not sleepy and sat by the opened window. A number of times Priscilla arose and walked about the room. She fidgeted about. She began to realize that she was developing nerves. As she sat by the window a faint rattle reached her. It grew louder and louder1 as ft repeated itself. Prisciila gripped the arms of her chair and listened. The wind blew, but above it all she could hear the steady rattle. It was becoming very loud now, and Priscilla scrept softly to the room across the hall. As she stood by the door there came a loud crash. She screamed and someone gripped her from behind. It was Raymond, who had returned early. After he had calmed the trembling Priscilla he returned to the room and entered it. It was not long before she heard his ringing laugh and, creeping to the door of her mother’s room, she saw Ray seated on the side of the bed, laughing. The room was empty except for him. Suddenly he raised his eyes and saw her standing there and began to explain the ghost. “My dear,” he began, “the ghost has been laid, and here it is. You see for yourself that a number of the panes of glass are missing from this window. The wind is strong tonight and it has caused the shade to blow back and forth, and giving a hollow sound. That is the rattle you heard. Do you see that dress of your mother’s? Well, as you can see, wrhen the wind blows, it causes that dress hanging on the back of the chair to flutter back and forih. That is the ghost that Doc Winters saw that windy night last winter. Come to the window, Priscilla, and I will show you what caused the loud crash.” Below, on the piazza roof lav a blind which had fallen from its rustv hinges. The still trembling girl sobbed and Ray took her in his arms and murmured in her ear, “Never mind, Priscilla, dear, I have just come into a large sum of monev and together we will repair the house and gar-