Arsenal Technical High School - Arsenal Cannon Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

Page 22 text:

cc U U92 intsb tu Begin Zllgain Witliiri our tiny world of books, Of petty tasks and mighty aims, Of problems, tests and victories That wiser minds call childrenls games, We live, and work, and dream perhaps- Of battles fought by older men. And when weive reached our childish goal, mWe Finish, to begin againfi Until at last we leave our world. Its friendly gates swing outward wide lnto a greater, busier place Wl1C1'C all but Dreams are swept aside, Wl1e1'e brave men toil and fight and die To give the cause their all-and then, To find new struggles to confront, And ufinish, to begin againf' So, on some last still battle Held An awful hush will fall-and then Once more, our dreams and tasks complete, G4We finish-to begin again. Helen Newman. 474949494549- THE SPIRIT OF JUNE 718. lContinue from Page 19h And to this law we bow. Now as our class is afrnishing But to begin againi' We leave to you our legacy, The Spirit of June 'l8. Oh glorious America, Our inspiration, thou! We hear the call to service bold Thy sons and daughters now. In glad response we offer all Our hands, our hearts and e'en Our lives, we bring to show the world The Spirit of June '18 Harriet Sherwood.

Page 21 text:

Andrew Taylor has announced that he will leave a quarter for a Thrift Stamp at the oilice on the eighth day of each week. Merlyn Anderson along with Elizabeth Bates, Dorothy Vifatson, and Mary Haymaker will perform their patriotic duty by leaving their powder to be used as food for the fishes. Dorothy Hood, Marie Klingstein, Harriet De Golyer, Merle Aichhorn, and one other senior girl leave their laughter and giggles to Lillian Lay. Anna Shingler, the naughty little girl who eats her lunch in the Main Building and whispers in class, leaves her worn-out typewriter ribbon to Janice Jones. lVlr. Lancaster has fallen heir to a punc- tured basket ball, a broken ink-well, and toy baloon left to him by Earl Wagner of 'cyou know why fame. Jack Kimmick and Bob Walden will the round corner of Otteis grocery to Eber Grubb. Crawford Mott and Boland Duvall have each fallen heir to a one string violin, willed to them by William Junclaus. Kenneth Bruner, known in Tech life as '4lVlellen,s food babyw. leaves his fundamentals of singing to the first junior that reaches the stage of insanity. Ruth Phythian, Beatrice Mannifold, Elizabeth Wveber, and Mild- red Hiatt have each willed a sack of sugar to the candy case in the Lunch Room with the understanding that it be used only when the Huns are defeated. This of course will be soon, as it is said that the Allies are only waiting for a few more students and faculty members of Tech who are on their way MOver Therew to begin the BIG DRIVE FOB BERLIN. William uCurley'7 Ash. The Gipirit ut Blunt, '18 f Class Songl In loyalty and friendship true Which years can neier dispel, - With hearts both sad and glad tonight We meet to say ulilarewellw One purpose now demands our zeal Our countryis need is seen, Dear Tech, we'll try to honor thee ln the Spirit of June '18 Oh Technical, brave Technical, Be this our fervent vow, That round the earth ,tis wright makes mighti' fContinued on Page 205

Page 23 text:

ElIIIllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllll ll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllIllllllllllIIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllIlllllllllllllllllllllg LiterarqA pirations THE HOUSE ACROSS THE WAY. By I-Iarriette Callahan At the end of an alley-like street in the outskirts of Paris stands a strange and forbidding house. Its grey walls are massive, pierced with only a few windows which heavy iron bars guard. The en- trance is low and narrow, and the ponderous iron door reminds one of an old prison entrance. Visitors, however, are very rare. No light is ever seen within, the whole house resembles an immense tomb. When I was a young doctor, I lived in the house opposite. I had plenty of leisure time, and in my idle hours I often wondered what mysterious secret was hidden in this gloomy old building. Neighbors told me it had been built by some foreign crank years before and that it concealed the real house, which stood some dis- tance back in the garden. That was all. The stranger never went out, no tradesman was ever allowed to enter, and all provisions were passed through a special opening at the side of the door made for that purpose. Everybody in the neighborhood was curious to know more about the man, but nobody had been able to penetrate the veil of mystery which surrounded it. One night, the deep sound of a bell awoke me from my sleep. I got up to see what it was. My door opened just enough to ad- mit a person. A mysterious shadow slipped through and the door closed itself automatically. I got up quickly, dressed, and hurried out, but some vague fear made me hesitate. uWho is there? I asked. 'alt is about a patientf' a voice replied. MYou must come quickly. I suppose I am talking to Dr. Alvin Moquierfw uYes,,7 I replied, still surprised at the unexpected call. alt is I. Then I opened the office door and let my visitor in. He was a tall slender man-still young, though his hair was white. His face was ghastly pale, and his black eyes gleamed. nYes, he said, in a decidedly foreign accent, alt is a very extra- ordinary case. My wife has had a stroke and does not revive. She has often had similar attacks but they have never lasted as long as today, and now I have become afraid.