Canton High School - Cantonian Yearbook (Canton, IL)

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U THE CANTONIAN 1916 G js cz Soldier Should HH sallow sunlight drifted lazily through the barred window and fell i11 fitful patches on the cold, damp wall of a cell in a German prison. It fell, too, on a small, 11?l!'l'OW cot where lay a young French aviator. He was scarcely more than a boy, having ust reached his seventeenth year. His straight, black hair was wet with sweat. altho it was not a hot day. 'His great, black eyes burned wildly and seemed to gaze upon the world with a look of destroyed confidence. His face was haggard and drawn and he moaned to himself as he tossed on the hard bed. V Through his mind passed thoughts of the morning not far distant when he had so gayly left France with a superior otticer to spy over the country of Alsace in his beloved aeroplane. lVell he remembered the clear autumn sunshine of that beautiful morning. He remembered passing his dear old home in Alsace and sighting a Gere man camp soon after. A bullet had whistled thru the air and crippled the right wing of his machine. He had tried to right the machine, but it plunged downward. Again he heard the French officers ery as they dived toward the earth. He knew no more for several days. lVhen he again looked upon the world with understanding he found himself in this narrow cell. Slowly the truth came to him. He was a prisoner in a German prison. He had been surprised to find th:1t his guard was a German friend of his, with whom he had grown up. Ever since he could re- member, he and Hans had played together. But now they were the bitterest of foes. The door opened and Hans came in. Good morning. Henrif' Good morning, Hans. VVhat news? lVhat is to be done with me? Donit keep it back. Hans. Tell me nowf, I hate to, Henri, but I must. You have been condemned as a spy and you are to be shot at sunrise tosmorrow. I did my best. but it was of no used, 'l'hatls all right. Hans. I know you did all you could. But, ohl Hans, I hate to die. lim afraid to die, I am. I am, a11d the boy burst into tears and sobbed as only a man can. YVhen he had done with his tears he begged the German to bring his mother to him and the German promised to do so. Noon of that day found her at the camp. She was a lovely lady. petite and dark, with pride plainly written on her features. Before I go to Henri tell me what to expect, she said to Hans. So Hans told her the story as I have told it to you, but he laid particular stress on the fact that Henri had sobbed as a child might. This roused the mother's pride. but no sign of annoyance could be noted by the German. In her heart, however. she formed a plan which would be hard for her to carry out. How hard, no one but a mother knows. She entered the cell calmly and answered I-Ienri's broken greeting with sweet and tender caresses. Calmly she dried his tears and soothed his ruliled spirits. Henri, my boy, do not forget that you are a soldier and a Frcnchmanfi I know. mother. But. oh, it is so hard to die when I'd love so much to live. Mother, can't you save me? He clung to her hand and pleaded, with the tears coursing down his boyish checks. Yes, Henri, I have saved youf' Saved me, mother? Yes, saved you. To-morrow you shall be fired at with blank cartridges and the next day you will be allowed to go homef, Home! Home! Think. mother, sweet home! 0h! I shall be the happiest boy in all France to see home again.

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U 1916 THE CANTONIAN English Work HE English department is second to none in High School. One who possesses the ability of clear thinking, correct writing, and forceful speaking will have success i11 life assured. These qualities the students of English acquire in their High School career. ' The .Iunior and Senior classes, under the supervision of Miss Elliott, are giving much time to the oral theme work, and in this particular line much progress is being made. The English IV classes devote one day a week to the discussion of articles of current interest, taken from the Independent magazine. This work creates an interest, and prepares the pupil to meet the big things of life. Besides this work, both upper classes have been reading classics, the .Iuniors A Collection of Short Storiesf' by famous short story writers, and the Seniors Hamlet and Macbeth.', In the Sophomore English classes great stress has been laid on the written theme work and there has been some work along the oral theme line. The classes have also studied the newspaper, writing editorials, advertisements, and social items. For classics, the Sophomores have read MSilas Marner, and are now reading The Vicar of Wakefield. The aim of the teachers of Freshman English is to teach the pupils to express their thoughts in clear, concise language, and to be able to readily understand the thoughts expressed by others. To help gain this end, a large part of the time has been spent on written and oral themes. A study of letter writing has been made and the class has improved very much along this line. The Freshmen have read in class 'iIrving's Sketch Bookf and are at present reading The Merchant of Vcnicef, in which they are showing much interest.. A few of the pages following will be devoted to some stories and poems written by the members of the various English classes. lllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lliillllll Tired ! HAD been invited to a week end party at I.i-vcrpool. Ive were to have exams the next week. My grades were dangerously 11ear the Hunking line. But the week end party seemed vastly more important then than examinations. I returned Monday morning absolutely worn out. I had swum until every muscle in my body was so sore and stiff that I could not touch them without wincing and to change my position was misery. I had rowed until my hands were blistercd, played tennis until the sight of my racket sent a dull pain all over me, and danced until I could hardly stand. and then the ride home in that merciless old hack without a single spring. I was so tired that to move one foot before the other was an effort. Oh, if I only could have gone to bed and slept until I got ready to get up. ButgNol Those exams! The thought exhausted me completely. I carried such a stack of books home that my head began to ache, but I had to dig. That was a settled fact. I read a page of history, nodded, then tried to remember what I had read. I could not. I read it again and knew still less. Next I tried to review Geometry. The more I crammed the more tangled up I got. I tried to write, but my hand was too cramped to hold the pencil. The letters before me began to dance, but I had to study. Exams! About twelve oiclock I gave up in despair and went to bed and spent the rest of the night in troubled sleep. dreaming that Belgium was an island off the coast of Fulton County, that if a triangle has four sides it is parallel to an axiom. and that I.ouie XVI was mayor of Cuba. I passed those examinations. My lowest mark was 75. My highest 78. But never again will I go to a house party ust before examinations. HI+ILEN SAUNDERS, '17

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1916 THE CANTONIAN Her eyes filled with tears and her heart ached for her boy, but she forced back the tears and swallowed the aehe and talked until the shadows began to lengthen o11 the walls. Goodbye, Henri, she said, as she kissed him. May God bless you and keep you for his own. I,ook for me to-morrow in the crowd. And show them a lfrcnch- man is a soldier. 'KGoodbye, my boy, and again may God bless youf' She was gone, but she left behind her the brightest heart that cell had ever seen. The next morning dawned. Down the street came a ruf'He of drums and a sad procession came into view. In the midst of it marched a boy, only a boy. but his head was up, his shoulders were back and he marched gayly and looked happily at all nature. Many hearts ached ashe bravely took his place and smiled at a pale- faeed little lady i11 the crowd. Still he smiled as the guns were loaded, aimed- l irelU rang the fatal word. The bullets whistled through the air and thc boy, with one last look of love and confidence for his mother, fell to the ground. Ani-an C'Lt rs, '17 IHHHII UHHHIUIIIHHIHHIIIHHHIHWHI Ilillilll Sprirgg I'm comingf said the little seedlet gay, Beneath the cover of the leaves and snow. VVhat care I how,U he cried, thc cold winds blow, I mean to beat the robi11 and the jay, Iim tired of sleeping ,neath the snow all day. I'll push my brown head up and grow and grow, Ere long Iill see the bright sunlight, I know. Oh, what a lovely flower will some one say. So, toiling upward thro' the snow and sleet The blue forget-me-not, I search and find The golden buttcreup, the VVilliam sweet And many that I cannot call to mind Are there. Just look, I do not mean to cheat, You can bouquets in countless numbers find. IRMA SPANGLER, '17 1525 I' 'i nf?u7L.9 3 7, -, Q, igitfai f