Barnard School for Boys - Bric Yearbook (Fieldston, NY)

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nl-lEl935 BARNARD BRIC fa ,. , Ii , W, s N W., ,, , , To 3-fT N Y ' x ff Ty V2-X ' N A N 1 . ET U K 'J Q K a tziiaifrfgv-. J fx X K ,N l . EtathatS2areaeezieitssiszieiieeags l 2 . kfiifiiililfi ' EgEE'S'S3SQF :W in t rl li - 5' sg?-zaisseffiisileiftlwv' 4 f ittithaaicrfgw' 1-3 X. lil-1' ,4fff,aw1,irl id my 3-1' :VE f nr ' ,....,,. , y E, 55' VN.. - fi-.s 'wi 4- ' 23:95 if s on 14. ie FRUSTRATION: A Tragedy SCENE I. HEAVEN The great writer! of the rergtnrier are gathered itz a large feld in Heaven. They are drefred in white, with golden wingf hilt they are doing no flying. Inrtead they walk np and down angrily, muttering or hiring their nailr. Orfarionally one flingr hirnrelf onto the ground, weeping. Then one rpeahf- Dirkenfz This is dreadful news. Defoe: Then we have failed. Goldnnith: Yes, failed. fSohhingj Scott: I did my best. Poe: I'll say you did. QPl1trhf nzoalted feather from The Ra1ren'r Tailj Twain: Can nothing be done? Stezfenfonz I'm afraid it is too late. We cannot return to earth. Shakerpearez It all boils down to this. When we were on earth we wrote plays, poems, novels, essays enough of everything for ordinary consumption. There was a good deal of reading done, but we filled the demand. But this is beyond all reason. QWinhr at dark lady angel who ir paryingj. Diehenr: Look at all the novels I wrote. And I am ready to write more if this demand is as you say it is. Scott: That'll do no good. We can write all we want up here, but we can never get it down to him. Stezfenfonz lf we had only known. fTearJ hairy. Twain: QA newconierj. Can we never return to earth? The Raven: Nevermore! QCroalerj.