Blake School - Reflections / Call O Pan Yearbook (Hopkins, MN)

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Pass on, and may the next be more relined Than this—who posed his picture—chewing gum! Pass on—to what? A low-browed brute! Put no—he's not so bad. lie is well-dressed, And isn't chewing gum, Don Ferguson. A forehead broad shines out before my sight: Much intellect is his, I ween. Who is't? All—sadly do I err—it is Frank Fletcher. Oh, what a blow, that there should be among The pictures of these boys, that of a bird! A night-bird, too—an owl! See those eyes! Pet rayed by his proboscis, I have guessed That it's a boy and not a bird, Lint Hanson. I'll not say aught about the Howard twins Frank’s flowery and owly; and Tom Shows no close kinship, juxtaposed with Frank. Next, Mills, with beauteous tie, though not so bad As that resplendent ribbon worn by Frank. Put Mills shows not his usual mulish laugh, Put scorns me. gazing. Yet 1 soon feel well Again for Mintener, Prad, has posed his best, And anxiously awaits approval from me. Xo, Brad, I will not praise you, no, not I, Though in your signature I see much practice. I can't sec why Jack Mulliken. because 1 le had a part most prominent this year, Should trv to imitate an actor here. lie's every inch an actor. My, it’s queer How often people look like what they aren’t. Oh, imbecile! Oh, little puppy-dog! Oh, Xewton, I)., Oh—well, they’re all the same. Ah, here's a boy who, anyway, looks lively; I wonder who it was that whistled for him; Peck should have paid attention to the camera. If I'd not seen the autograph of Rees, I’d think this was, in truth, some greasy Greek, Kin to a haggard haggler of the street. And Roberts, with his eyebrows raised in threat. Petrays the fact that the photographer Has offered argument in politics. Old Harlo prob'ly has the man so scared, He’ll get the picture free. Put not so, Vince; I see he’s been defeated, and at last Has grudgingly consented to be snapped. That's all of this most heterogeneous herd. I’ve tried to say some flattering things, although I f lemons were expensive, then this class Would be worth lots: but as it is---. Doc Johnson’s eyes again grew blear and dim, Fixed far away—and red around the rim. 15 D. X., T9.

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Our Seniors! Our English teacher, Johnson, Raymond I ., Yawned listlessly, and with one grimy hand Patted his upturned, O-shaped, gaping mouth. He let his bleary eye fall to his desk, To gaze as if in stupor on a pile Of photographs that lay before his sight, Left there in fear. They were the photographs Of seniors, looking up at this, their master. Smiling, innocent, and mild, prepared to take Upon themselves a shower of worldly wit. Into the eye of Johnson crept the light That kindles in cat’s narrow, yellow eye When playing with a mouse. His right hand dropped From the gold chain with which before it toyed; Upright he sat; his lips began to move. The class reporter, listening at the key. Froze rigid at his scathing comments, which At once begun, did not cease till the last. What? Who is this? Behind a flowery tie There is a savage, wild and fierce, with cars Pricked up to hear this comment. Who he is. Or what he is, I cannot tell! But, yes! There is his autograph. It's Johnnie Ballord! Faugh! Pass away—What next appears? It is A brazen Saxon youth with vampish eye. I see it’s comp’ny captain, Alfred Beltz. As in the case of well-known Cheshire cat. I notice first, in this next face, the grin, Which must have won its wearer mortal fame. But no! It cannot be: I'll not concede A thing. But what’s his name? Oh—Jimmie Best. ‘By Hercules’ old Virgil would have said, Especially if he had gazed on this Next bulk, topped by another grin, which grin Belongs to Eddie Brooks, the mighty kidder. In Tommie Brackett’s face I read contempt For all the world—But yet I'll bet he's pleased That I should deign to throw a glance his way. I'll first look at the name on this next face. Oh—! Leonard Carpenter—I see! At first 1 couldn't recognize his earnest face Because of its contortions: for he schemes The theory of a plan. Pis strange how oft ()ne finds together contrasts very striking. Next to this face, so full of thought, so long. Looks up a cheerful cherub. He—but ugh!! What has he in his mouth? Not horrid gum? If that were so, Dick wouldn’t—couldn’t have Had the affrontery to show it me. 14

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