Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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The BEACON ON EASTER MORNING Lilies-- Tall white Easter lillies, Candles in their silver holders, Sunlight- Filtering through stained glass windows, Music- The mighty swell of an organ, The hymn of a white robed choirg joy! the Lord is risen On Easter morning! -Elizabeth Spencer 12071 1928 IN MEMORIAM JANE M. BERKWATER EILEEN E. HAMILTON HELEN E. CHERMAZ THE WINDS Oh winds that blow so wild and free, You are a giant symphonyg The great bare branches of the trees Are harps the giants play with ease. But by the fires cheery glow I watch the flames that come and go, And in the coals I see the spring While o'er the hills the wild birds wing. The flowers bloom so fresh and fair Their perfume sweet is in the air. The water dances in the brook While I just sit and dream and look, Oh grand, sublime, in many keys, The broken chords sound through the trees, The joyous notes now louder grow, Then play, you harps, and blow, winds, blow. -Allen H. Weelock 12061 1928

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The BEACON A ONE PIE-BED The concert had ended and strains of dance music were being carried merrily across the campus of Farland College fexclusively for young womenj, and into the open windows of Glenbank, the sophomore house. How many are in favor of not going to the dance tonight? cried Nan gaily, as she entered Sue's room. Sue looked up in surprise for Nan was usually out for all of the fun that she could find. Good land, Nan! Whatever has come over you. I-. She paused as she caught a twinkle in her visitor's eye. 'Tm all on your side, she ended. Nan put her head out of the door and uttered a shrill whistle. A few minutes later jean came sauntering in. What's up now, Nanny, dear? And you aren't dressed for the dance! she exclaimed in surprise. 'Tm reforming, laughed the visitor. No more dances until Prom. I make the suggestion that you join me. Sue has. 1-Imm! Last dance before Prom anyway, Sue agrees. And Nan of all people! she murmured thoughtfully. All right, she added dubiously. Reveal your alllatusf' If that means what I think-it's this way. Stanroad U is in quarantine. The boys whom we know can't come up for this dance- - Where have I heard that before? sighed jean depreciatingly. Never mind, Jean, that is just the beginning. There isn't much sense in our going to the dance. The truth is that you wouldn't go unless Jack were here, my dear. Except for her heightening color, Jean greeted the remark with icy Silence. Anyway, she continued, 'fthe weather is warm, the water in the lake is not much colder than chilly, and very often people from nearfby houses go in swimming at a short distance from this college. How would anyone know whether we were, or were not, students? We could be back before the dance endsAand incidentally have a good time. But-, began Sue. One minute, interrupted Nan. Tomorrow we have a very dry speaker, the chaplain of Stanroad, by the way, and we'll need sleep tonight to keep awake during chapel. Exercise is always conducive to peaceful sleepg so there you are, she ended triumphantly. Convinced, laughed Sue. We'll round up a few more and meet at the boat house in fifteen minutes. A short time later at the appointed place a group of ten met and slipped quietly down to the beach. Finally they stopped and built a fire. Somebody fContinued on page 182

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The BEACON - ii MOON -LOVE The moon in spring is my only love, He taps at my window with long white fingers. On winter nights when he is gone, The memory of his wooing lingers. Then deep in my heart is a tragic thought, My joy is marred by a single thing-- There are so many moonfsick maidens, And somewhere in the world it's spring. --Elizabeth Winspear 007, 1928 BOGKS FORGOTTEN Down on Fourth Avenue, New York, just off Union Square, dusty book' shops line the streets for about three blocks. These ancient nooks are small and unpretentious. In the summer days, when the lazy New York sun is splashing gold upon the sidewalks, thousands of tattered, musty volumes are set out in semiforderly array in long wooden boxes upon saw horses. No one passes without a short glance at least, at those dogfeared books. There is a lure behind a dirty wornfand'torn cover which cannot be escaped even if one 1S across the street. The casual onflooker finds little to please him. The books are mainly concerned with medicine, law, and the sciences, or are two or three year old novels whose bright stars have faded. There are notso many classics as would be expected there, but once in a while one may turn up a volume of Milton, Macaulay, or Bulwer. Sometimes old books are found. I remember finding an essay published in London in the year 1729 for the magnificent price of ifteen cents. Perhaps the prices are the most fascinating attractions in the mart. They range from five cents to fifty on the stands, while within the shops they progress from fifty cents to really large sums of money. One could assemble a library if he had but ten dollars and plenty of time. It is all great fun, even if you do not buy. But here is the point. Threeflourths of those books were written since 1900, and have been entirely forgotten, during this quarter century. Once they were new. One could not have known then by looking at their covers that they were worthless, that they were different in some way from their shelffneighbors. But they were of little value and the relentless verdict of the years has consigned them to this limbo of oblivion. Instead of retaining their youthful appearance and lasting quality, in the library of a learned man, they are tossed ruthlessly into dirty boxes and left to the careless hands and brains of the casual passerfby. A -Reuel Denney 12061 1928