New London High School - Whaler Yearbook (New London, CT)

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BULKELEY NEWS 15 The more I see W. M. I. girls inveigling our pure and simple minded Seniors into buying them sodas, the more I appreciate the fact that Eve was crazy for an apple herself. The list of averages that came out last month looked like a record of the temperature, at the North Pole. And that Dramatic Club----Et tu Juniors. It certainly would be a shame if I were to leave this article without a few good words for Jimmy. He certainly tries hard to please the boys. He is one good fellow. Let us hope that he will continue to be one of the honored institutions of old Bulkeley. Well, as our friend Carl Kuester would remark,-As I have nothing to say, and wishing to say it, I will close with one last question,-Who is The Squealer ? 4

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14 BULKELEY NEWS the suburbans. The mule is not expected to live. Your rich aunt who died when you was here is still dead and doing nicely. Hope this letter finds you the same. After she died they found fifteen thousand dollars in an old bussel which she left behind, so you are no longer a poor man. You will be able to afford a bag of salty peanuts in nigger heaven for Tessy now. Your cousin, Maurice Stanley Gipstein, will go to work this morning; the job will last about six months, but the judge said he might get out sooner on good behavior. Business has been dull since you left, especially the saloon business. It s a good thing we have to close next July as we would close anyway, since Babbidge, Beran, and Woodworth have acquired the Bevo habit. I will close now, with regards. I do not feel well, I have been playing the vi-all-in. Yours respectable, C. Kuester. The owner may have the above letter on personal application to the Squealer. I am glad to see that Horace McConnell has fixed his desk. 1 he board of trustees ought to vote him a scholarship in recognition of his services, or else give him a life membership in the Carpenters’ Union. It was writh great pleasure that I read Phil’s article in the News”. It was some article, you have to hand it to him. He is There. That’s what I call wit. Let’s hope that we continue to see his valuable contributions. Have you heard our new Freshman Orchestra ? It’s a PIPPIN—Whew! Haven’t we a lovely piano here in school ? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to take up another collection and have it tuned ? You know it’s very easy to write knocks but it’s a good deal harder to be the object of them. However, I do it with the intention of helpfulness and not meanness. Think it over-----------No, Mr. Phillips isn’t the Squealer.

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16 BULKELEY NEWS A Ghost Story. you fellows make me tired” said Dickson, “I don’t believe in ghosts anyway.” “You can talk that way all you want to,” retorted Brown, “but I bet you would be as scared as I was, if you had been in my position coming up the road past the old shack in that lane leading off the main road near the mill late at night with no moon shining.” (He winked at his companions). The men had been talking about ghosts, and Dickson had shown his contempt for anyone who believed in such things. Brown had made up the story which he told them in order to try Dickson’s so-called invincible courage. “When was this?” asked Dickson. “Night before last,” answered Brown, “I heard chains clanking.” “Huh, only your imagination,” said Dickson. “Well, I bet you ten dollars that you don’t dare sleep there to-morrow night.” “All right,” said Dickson, “I will go out there at seven o’clock and have the laugh on you in the morning.” “Don’t be too sure,” answered Brown. The following evening, Brown dropped in on Dickson just before seven o’clock to escort the bravo to the phantom shed. “What will we do if a ghost does show up?” he asked. “Use this,” said Dickson, producing a gun. He laid it down while he got together a few bedclothes. Brown seized the opportunity to empty the gun of cartridges and fill-the chambers with blanks. By this time, Dickson had got together the few articles that he needed and picked up the gun. Brown accompanied him to the supposedly haunted house and then returned home chuckling to himself. Brown waited until nearly twelve o’clock, and then, taking a sheet with him, he made his way to the haunted house. He entered secretly, and went up the hall to the door of the room in which his friend was sleeping. He then donned the sheet and, taking a short chain with which he had provided himself, he opened the bedroom door. His friend was asleep. He clanked the chain and groaned until the sleeping man awoke and demanded who was there. Dickson receiving no answer pointed the gun at the white figure and fired. Brown took a slug from his pocket and tossed it at Dickson. The Invincible Courage” fired again with the same result. Again he fired and again a slug hit him. He began to sweat with fear. “What was this object that was able to deflect bullets from its body so that they returned and hit the person firing them ?” Aiming the pistol trembling once more, Dickson fired at the mysterious form. Again the bullet was returned