East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

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THE QUILL 9 But Chl The Perficiy of Man WOMAN always gets the last word. So say the men. But after such exorbitant accusa- tions, we must rise in defense of the so- called weaker sex. YVeaker? Oh, the perfidy of man! From the beginning of time woman has shown strength. While the man sinks, the woman swims, the man quits, the woman struggles on, prodding friend man, urging him toward his goal. Other- wise, he would be left by the wayside. WVOIIIHII is the stimulant for man, the go-gctter, the achiever-without her, man accomplishes nothing. She is his inspiration! Friend Moon says, Women are vamps and men are fools. Merely a slight change in the wording makes it read more correctly. A few women are vamps but all men are fools. Since the time of Eve, woman has increased in intellect and dexterity, until at the present day, she is able to compete with those males who have reached the highest degree of insincerity and prevarication. Our male admirers HJ have not yet realized that the women have finally caught on. Their smooth intriguing lines, polished to the nth degree, go in one ear and out the other. We are not fall- ing hook, line, and sinker, to be disil- lusioned as poor, innocent Maggie and Phoebe might have been, but we .are hold- ng our own. Are we vamps? No, but ve are merely playing the game with you. 3ut the poor men are surprised, aston- shed-they do not comprehend! They ire becoming discouraged-instead of 'ur falling for the artifices, we are re- aliating, and the men have not yet thor- ughly realized that perhaps the women, oo, are merely giving a line. They still are fools enough to think that we believe their tales. Poor, abused darlings! Clinging to il- lusions in matrimonial affairs! VVonder- ful dreams wiped out when the honey- moon is over! Likewise is the woman disappointed. But she has come to ex- pect, not an idol of perfection, but a com- panion. But poor man !-he thinks friend wife will always adore him as she did when he wore his company manners, was chivalrous, obliging, kind, consider- ate-but alas! She knows her fate when he comes down to breakfast, grumpy, cross, unshaven and growls, Ez break- fast reacly?,' But we are not shocked- we expect it! Our antagonist, so-to-speak, says, They fthe girlsj make capital out of the romantic ideas which come so natural- ly to young men. Let us pause to laugh. He goes on to say that we use their tender passions for the purpose of embarrassing and confusing our ad- mirers. It was once said, Love is blind.'l Surely this is proof. Friend man seems to Want a Romeo and Juliet love adair, moonlight and roses, twilight, soft murmuring breezes, a full moon, en- chanting music-bloohey! Come back to 1930, to the age when we do not believe in all that romantic slush. But, laying all pretentious malice and joking aside, we confess We are not per- fect! We, too, still succumb to your manly charms in spite of all your defects. We, who claim to have the upperhand in opposite sex, are more ensnared ourselves. We ridiculing the nearly always realize that we can fool some of the men all of the time, and all of the men some of the time, but we can 't fool all of the men all of the time.

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8 THE QUILL The Perfidy of Woman OMEN a1'e vamps and men are fools. It has always been so, Ellld it will undoubtedly rema.in so until the crack of doom. I am not try- ing to introduce a reform or change the characters of men and women. I am merely presenting the facts as they have been forced upon me by experience- limited experience, to be sure-but none the less enlightening. There may be exceptions to this rule, as there are to most rules. Some women are not vamps, a few of them are sincere and honest. Likewise, a very, very small number of men may be immune to the artifices of women. Some 111611 play the part of vamps, and women the part of fools. There are some married women of my acquaintance who are absolutely honest, faithful and true, cheering, in- dustrious, friendly and companionable to their husbands. There are just enough of these ideal women in the world to delude the aver- age man into thinking that he may be lucky enough to marry one of them. They raise false hopes in our lives which are never wiped out until the honey- moon is over. We will not face the real facts until they are forced upon us by fate. IVe do not take heed from the mis- takes of our brothers. Blindly, we wan- der on, secure in the belief that unhap- piness in matrimonial affairs can never befall us, until we can no longer deny that such a tragedy has happened. The girls with whom I have had the pleasure UID of acquaintance, seem to delight in few things so much as getting a young man to spend all the money pos- sible on them Knot that I ever had much to spendj and then leaving him with nothing but some very confused ideas concerning women in general, with which to console himself. The height of a young lady 's ambition seems to consist of being able to boast of having broken an important date with some popular boy friend, after it was too late for him to get another, preferably by the simple process of not being at home when he called. Girls make capital of the roman- tic ideas which come so naturally to young men, they use these tender pas- sions for the purpose of embarrassing and confusing their admirers. Girls such as Maggie of The Mill on the Floss, and Phoebe of The House of the Seven Gables, I have never found to exist in reality. Instead of being romantic and lovable, young Women are scornful and traitorous. They have no respect for the more serious moods in their gentleman companions. They are willing to betray the confidence of their worshipers merely for the pleasure of seeing the pain it causes these unhappy individuals. It would seem that in the face of all that We know of Women, We would leave them alone. But We do notg somehow we cannot. The greatest of male writers on the subject of falsity in Women have at last succumbed to the artifices of the fairer sex. Nor will I prove wiser than my fellows. In spite of all I have ever known or said about girls, I am attracted irresistibly to them, there is a fascina- tion in new feminine faces that I cannot overcome-do not want to overcome. i shall go on through life hoping to marry one of these very ra.rc ideal girls. Per haps I shall. More likely I will not. Bu nevertheless, I am still susceptible to th charms of my frailer companions. I can 't help it. I don 't even Want to helj it, because men are fools, and-I am man!

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10 THII QUILL Bits C' Verse Life Br NVILDA FARMER The coming of dawn is a wonderful thing, The morn 's on the doorstep and night's on the wing, The day lies ahead to do with as we will, As does a blank page that is for us to fill, And when day is going and light starts to fade, Then will we be pleased with the record we 've made? The sky is so blue and the sun shines so bright, Each day is so lovely, and lovely is night, So I shall be happy and glad while I may, Far ahead mav be manv a sad gloom v Q 7 P' day. I would I were blessed with the wings of a bird, ' Then o'er this whole world I would fly, I would leave all the sorrows of earth undisturbed, And would never come down from the sky. I Wonder ISY YVONNE SCIIEFFER All beauty is serene. I wonder who has seen The purple shadowed trees Sway slightly in the breeze, Or heard the wood-thrush sing? And through the wood-land ring The silver tinkling stream? Like a tiny eliin's dream. And have you seen the blue And silver moon? The dew llpon the grasses green? Indeed a placid scene. Or marveled at the pine, The pretty columbine? Just which of us will be Lovely as these joys we see? Sunset B Y ROBERTA BARIDQN Look at the wondrous sunset! lt is a beautiful sight! It fills the mind with fancies- lt fills the heart with delight. I see in that sky of red, A city embedded there. It 's streets and homes are gold, like New Jerusalem. So fair! Gazing again at the sky, I'm surprised to find now there, Instead of the glorious light A sort of lonely glare. The homes and the streets are gone. No more the city I see. The lights of an hour before, Have faded into the sea. Dreams By MARJORY IIFGGINS Down at the edge of a wandering lane That runs by the cares of day, A misty air-castle stands there in thf dusk VVhere fairies and hobgoblins dwell, And that is the home of a crooked old gnome Who's making up dream-things to sell my dear- The lovliest dreams to sell! He makes pretty dreams of little boy sighs- He weaves with a thread of love, The airiest fancies of lover's blind eye And fashions it all from above- IIe wraps in a smile-every once in while- And calls it an unborn kiss, my dear- The dream of an unborn kiss.