Bloomington High School - Aepix Yearbook (Bloomington, IL)

Page 24 text:

THE AEGIS Now believeth me I wish ere hyt be nyghte That you ageyn your blissful service lende I needs must use your contents quite To buy a picture to the Aegis for to sende And I do now toward graduation wende I need thy comfort and good companye Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. Now purse, ye be to me a necessitye And with all ye parties that ha' been And all ye other parties that will be That ye be empty now is ne'er a joke For certes, I now do be dead broke But yet I pray unto your majestye Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. THE SANDWICH SALE A Member of B. H. S. Down the hall clattering, All of them chattering, Busy tongues pattering, The mothers arriveg Our spirits revive, When we think of the nourishment, Gastric encouragement, And all other benefits we shall derive. Sandwiches? Yes, galore, Piled high on desk and floor, Blocking each class-room door. And into the hall At the bell's stringent call We rush with vociferous Outcries, horriferous, , And the eorridor's packed from the stairs to the wall Sandwiches small and great Fly by us, while we wait, And if we're not too late Perhaps we'll get one And eat on the rung

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THE AEGIS 21 night, just as the grandfather's clock struck eight, the Judge came to call. This had been the case for ma11y years and would probably happen for many more. It had unconsciously become a habit for him to call at eight and leave at nine-thirty. She even wore the same black silk dress on every occasion, but at eight o'clock tonight, she was not there to open the door for him, so he walked in. QKeys had long ago disappeared from the doors.l He blinked as he entered the softly lighted room. No doubt, he missed not having Miss Selina silently open the door. He appeared to be strangely restless tonight. He looked around and saw Miss Selina coming down the stairs. He turned to put down his hat. I love you, said a voice sweetly soft, yet with a notice- able break in it. It was at once a question and an exclamation. Miss Selina who was crossing the room to cooly give the Judge her ha11d, as was their custom, gasped. The Judge, turned to the trembling Selina, startled. Go to it, continued the bird in no gentle tones. A smile slowly broke on the ster11 face of the Judge, as though his leathery skin cracked at the un- aecustomed effort. He held out his hands, Come Selina, we have waited quite lo11g enough. Their eyes met and her gaze fell quickly to the floor and be- fore she k11ew what she was doing, she was in his arms. Some time later, the Prices were at dinner when the mother said, You can 't guess what I heard this morning. She didn 't wait for them to guess. The Judge and Selina are going to be married and that spiteful Mary Jenkens says that she probably proposed, herself. The children looked at each other, with expressive glances. Maybe, she did, said Bob calmly, Its leap year, and he continued eating his dinner as though nothing had happened. Well you do beat all, and Mrs. Price dropped her hands in her lap, and looked at her family in disgust. COMPLEINT OF A SENIOR T0 HIS PURSE QApologies to Chaucerj. DOROTHY VANPETTEN. To you, my purse and to non other Wight Compleyne I for ye be my closest friende I am so sory now that ye be lyghte For certes, I have nothing now to spende Me were as leif my life would ende For which unto your mercy thus I crye Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye.

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THE AEGIS 23 For all are carnivorous, Scorn the herbivorous Freshman who shuns this omnivorous fun. Sandwiches filled with meat, Some more, some less replete, All of them good to eat: A jitney a piece, For the point is to fleece Our long-suff 'ring pocketbooks, Clean them with grappling hooks, Tho' it pains us a 'coin e'en so small to release. Silent the old halls stand, Gone is the merry band, Just two or three were canned For unseemly noise: Of course they were boys. And John with his trusty broom Sweeps out the messed-'up room, While the infantile freshmen, return to their toys. THE REVERIE OF THE DESERTED HOUSE JULIA HENNINGER. In my walks about the village, I have often noticed a deserted house. Its memory haunts me. In summer, the foliage and flowers try to clothe and decorate it, and in winter, a blanket of snow partially covers the desolation. Thus all the year, Nature protects and sympathizes with its loneliness. Even so, the house is sombre, bare and brown. In the fall, the gaunt branches of the poplars guard the unkempt driveway and the dead leaves murmur in an undertone of sadness. I would smile at the old-fashioned French windows opening on quaint little galleries, but their eyeless stare rebukes me. Aruined summer-house, of the style of Marie Antoinctte's time, recalls the story of that hapless queen. I step across the ruined threshold and see the winding staircase, the high old settle, and the brass andirons, and I wish for the stories they might tell. On entering the parlors in their decayed grandeur, the trees are sighing and bidding me listen. Hearken to the tale the poplars tell of the happy times of the deserted house. Years ago, a young man and his sweetheart on discovering this charming spot, decided to make it their home. And so the house was built and fur- nished handsomely.