Paterson Eastside High School - Mirror Yearbook (Paterson, NJ)

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SENIOR YEAR BOOK 37 struck terror to their hearts. The British were coming! The town was unprotected. Worst of all, only that day Nancy had learned that her lover was to carry a secret message to the nearest Continental general, and that he in- tended stopping on his way. How could she save him-and Mother and Little Sister? The British were only a few miles down the road. Could she? Dared she? 'Calling her mother, she ran quickly to the stable and hitched the horses. Mother and Sister were soonyon their way to Cousin Hope's house,- where they would be safe, at least for a' time. . Left alone, Nancy. at once began, her prepara- tions. She would welcome the British cordially, and offer them the use of the house. She would feed them, and at night, steal out into the garden, bribe the sentry, and wait for John by the tiny bridge. Man proposes, but God dis- poses, and so it was that Nan'cy's plans were not carried out. The American troops had also learned of the stealthy approach of the Red Coats. The Continentals advanced, and the two armies met in the fields before the Owen home. Though, in reality, the battle was short, to Nancy, watching from her room, it seemed an eternity. The waters of the stream which ran through the garden were turning red. . Nancy, seeing it, shuddered and moved away. A bul- let tore through the window where she had been standing. The roar of the guns seemed louder than ever. She must do something-anything -to end this awful waiting, Suppose her father were lying out there, wounded. Swiftly she ran outside and, unheeding the bullets that whizzed by, sped across the road. Straight into the fight she went, and then, lifting a wounded man, half carried, half dragged him back to the house. Stopping only long enough to make him comfortable, she returned just in time to see a man with a bullet-pierced arm drop his musket. Nancy enlisted his aid, and together they worked. Man after man was 'carried into the great white house, and man after man blessed the girl who had courage enough to brave the danger of the guns. - The skirmish was almost over, but Nancy and he who helped .her returned once more to the field. A soldier had fallen face downward, and as they stooped to lift him, she gave voice to the question she had been longing to ask. John- John Barry-is he here? The man shook his head and a great pity welled up in his eyes. Mingled hope and fear written on her face, He's not dead! Tell me, he's not dead! Nancy cried. No, he said shortly, and lifted the man so that the girl might not see his face. Carefully they carried the wounded fellow to the house and placed him on a. couch. Then Nancy, seeing his face for the first time, gave a terrified cry, Oh John!- John! To Nancy Owen Barry, sitting before the win- dow in her great-grandmother's bedroom, the scene suddenly changed. The bungalow again appeared across the road, and the sound of guns could no longer be heard. Gazing wonderingly about her Nancy realized that she had been sleeping. Down to 'her uncle she ran, eager to tell of her curious dream. A 'As she finished her tale, a strapping young fellow in khaki opened the front gate and walked Iirmly up the path. Nancy was seized with a strange sense of familiarity with the situation. This boys' name was John, and he, too, had come to bid farewell. Dimly Nancy knew that she was saying, I'll wait for you-in the garden, and heard as dimly, Be true, Sweetheart. I shall not be long. -ELVA M. DUTCHESS. TO A GRADUATE. To you is the joy of a finished task, Of a battle fought and won, Your books seemed quite an ominous foe, But you have conquered them at last. As a soldier has his smiles and tears, Yet pushes on his way, You have had your doubts and fears, And now the Perfect Day. Then with you take fond memories, Of joys now past and gone, Would they could last for centuries Within you to abound. When you recall those early days VVh-en you were just pea green And stop to smile at many ways You see as you were seen. Then you chose your pals and friends, To share with you life's good, Some were faithful to th-e end And by you staunchly stood. Some will travel on with you, Some, other roads will take, Others say, Good-bye to you, And you, part of their mem'ry make. What e'er you do, where e'er you go At study, work or play, Strive always just to crush the foe, To have all Perfect Days. GLADYS M. DOTSON, '23.

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GIRLS' HIGH SCHOOL x A-'H ,-3 - ealg Hamill G-l 555 uytrl Us 1'liL WALT F015 YOU-IN THE GARDEN. It was in the Summer of 1918. Nancy Owen Barry was visiting her uncle. His house stood on the outskirts of a fine old Massachusetts town, and the elms before it seemed to whisper of the days of powdered wigs and bowing cour- tiers. For some time, Nancy had been explor- ing the attic and finding treasures in the form of flowered colonial dresses, hioop skirts, and costumes of men and women of Washington's time. There was one corner, however, into which she had not looked. A curtain separated it from the rest of the attic, and as she pushed it aside, her eyes rested upon the picture of a girl of her own age. The portrait, life size, was covered with dust, but the sunlight streaming through a window, revealed clearly the colors and design of the quaint, old-fashioned dress, the glossy black hair, clear gray eyes, and sweetly smiling mouth. Why, exclaimed Nancy, drawing a mirror from her pocket, I look just like her. Quickly she ran down the stairs to her uncle who was sitting on the porch. Oh, Uncle Jerry, she asked, Who is that girl whose picture is in the attic? Jeremiah Owens put his paper down and re- moved his spectacles. She is your great-grand- mother, Nancy Owen, who married John Barry, he replied. The picture was painted when she was nineteen years old. Just my age, murmured Nancy. Yes, and she lived in this very house. 'iCome, said the old man, and he led the way up the broad stairs and through a long hallway. Taking a key from his pockets, he unlocked a door. This was her bedroom, he said, and in that little box you will find her diary. Turning, he left the room, and Nancy gazed :uriously about her. A large, four-posted bed, old-fashioned chairs and furniture were in the room, and to her right was a door. Opening it, she saw a wardrobe. Nancy looked the dresses over, one by one, and then stopped suddenly. Before her was the very dress that the other Nancy had worn when her portrait was painted. She slipped into itg then startled, gazed into the mirror beside her, for there she saw the exact image of the girl who had lived so long ago. Then, taking the diary from a little box, she sat down to read. The day was warm and the atmosphere drowsy. Her head nodded slowly, more slowly, and finally ceased to nod at all. Nancy dimly became conscious of the sound of many voices. She was standing on the porch. There was something strange about it all-something missing--yes, that was it. That new bungalow was no longer across the way, but instead, a long stretch of farm land. The sound of voices became louder. She ran to the gate, reaching it just as a number of men and boys ran by. One cried, Minute Men! With sinking heart, Nancy Owen sped back to the house, seized two muskets and ran again to the porch. She had not l-ong to wait, for both Father and Brother rushed in. There were hurried preparations and farewells. Little Sister was crying and Mother, bravely winking back the teams, was telling Father to hurry. Nancy was waiting, dreading. A dashing young soldier strode up the path, and Nancy found her- self whispering, Yes, John. Hurry, hurry! I'l1 wait for you-in the garden. She heard softly, Be true, Sweetheart. I shall not be long. Then Mother, Little Sister, and Nancy were once more left alone, and the sound of voices grew fainter as the men hurried away to fight. The months passed by as a day. A year and a half had passed since the call for Minute Men had startled the town. There had been skir- mishes not far away, and foraging parties had come to the house. News of various battles had reached the 'Owen household, but the latest had

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E J GIRLS HIGH SCHOOL JUST FOR FUN. It was their first wedding anniversary and they had a small group of friends at their home to spend the evening. Some time had been de- voted to games, dancing, and singing, but, as was usual when Jack Latner was around, fand, of course, he was since it was his anniversaryh there were many earnest requests for a story. Jack was a born story teller and enjoyed nothing better than to tell stories to a few inti- mate friends. It may also be said, without fear of contradiction, that Jack's friends, enjoyed nothing better than to listen to one of his stories. Q His story, as I remember it, was as follows: I was just entering my second year at col- lege after having taken a two years' vacation. The professors put me,in the room with Joe Latner. I suppose they thought- we were related to each other in some way. Well, we weren't relatives, but we became wonderful pals. The fact that we were both dark led many to believe that the two Latner boys, both sophomores, were cousins. We certainly acted it, for we got along too well for brothers. It certainly was peculiar that we should have had the same sir name, but still more peculiar was the fact that our fathers were both Thomas Latner, Jr. Well, knowing our fathers were the same in name, we began comparing them in other particulars. A Joe's father we called Thomas Lat- ner I, and mine, Thomas Latner, II. We put each of their names on a separate piece of paper and under them put a list of all our father's characteristics. Q We compared these lists and found that our fathers were similar in many ways. We did the same for our mothers, but these didn't tally as well. Of course, these lists were made out for fun, but they certainly came in handy once or twice when we had to write character sketches for English. Enjoying this list making a great deal, I suggested that we compare the rest of our rela- tives and said I'd do my sister. Joe had no sister, but he did have a cousin, so he did her. Joe's list of his cousin's characteristics was wonderful-according to that I was sure she must be superhuman. I got interested, asked about her, and ended up by writing her a Christ- mas card. This was accompanied by a long explanatory letter from Joe. What it said I never knew, but I do know that it was the cause of making his cousin, Eunice Latner, answer, sending me a lovely letter of apprecia- tion. That letter was my downfall. After I read it I decided that the writer must be about my sister's age--fourteen. I asked Joe if my guess were correct and he said it probably was-he couldn't keep track of ages. I answered the letter and asked her to con- tinue writing, saying it would be good practice and would aid her in her school work. She did so, and we carried on a long correspondence, stretching over almost two years. By that time I was completing my Junior year at school, and felt rather important. At Christmas, Joe asked me if I wou1dn't spend the holiday season at his home. I gladly consented, for Eunice lived just a short distance away and I was indeed anxious to meet a girl who could Write such lovely long letters. I supposed her to be a high school girl-probably a junior or senior. Imagine then my surprise when I was introduced to Miss Latner, teacher of the sixth grade. Ah! nowonder she-could write long letters about school work! ' Fine joke, fooling me by posing as a student. After recovering from the shock, I enjoyed myself immensely. During the vacation we had many good times--often just the two of us, and occasionally making a foursome with .Ioe and Jean Vance, a next door neighbor and Eunice's closest friend. Needless to say, both Joe and I were desir- ous of prolonging our vacation, but we couldn't, so we returned to college when I began to again write to the little girl who was a big girl, In one of my letters to Eunice I asked her why she had written to me so long in the guise of a child. Her only answer was, Just for fun. With that I had to be content. Of course, at the time I was not satisfied, but those three words shall evermore be my motto . Here there was silence. It was short, how- ever, for everyone was anxious to know why. Well, the why of it is that when I proposed 'to Eunice she was cruel enough to say that there was no earthly or heavenly reason why she should marry me. I corrected her, telling her she should do it for the same reason she had written to me- Just for fun . She consented and when she asked.Jean to be her bridesmaid Jean answered, Funny, but that's just what I was going to ask you. X Well, to make a long story short, we had a double Wedding. ' ALICE COSINE. As this Year Book goes to press, over 700 copies have been subscribed for. .