Brattleboro Union High School - Colonel Yearbook (Brattleboro, VT)

Page 26 text:

Q Ghz tal f ,- I1 1 at ' . T F ! v A o MISS NELLIE'S LAST CHRISTMAS It was still quietly snowing, and all the world looked like a soft downy bed. Huge icicles hung from the eaves of the large colonial house on the hill, Inside in the spacious living-room, decorated with ever- greens and holly, hung a branch of mistle- toe, so common in England, and in the high-back chair by the Fireside sat a pretty young maiden of twenty. A jingle of approaching sleigh bells caused Nellie to start suddenly out of' her reverie, and to gaze expectantly out of the window. A knock at the door summoned Waters, the butler, a faint smile on his usually impassive countenance. A Merry Christmas to you, sir, he said politely, as he took off the gentleman's coat. Miss Nellie P inquired the jubilant young man, as he thought of a certain small box in his pocket. Yes sir, in the living-room, sir. Lieutenant Alldouse laughed boyishly, Fine weather out, Waters. He always said that, whether it was raining, snowing or clear. The hours passed quickly, and almost before anyone realized it, the guests of the evening had begun to arrive. What ia joy- ful time they had! Finally the gallant lieutenant caught Nellie under the mistle- toe, as she, for the moment unwary, had re-entered the room, pausing to survey the scene. A deep scowl rested on the brow of Colonel Carvel, for he, too, had been watching for such a chance. He had been drinking excessively, and was in no cheer- ful state of mind. Half an hour later when Nellieys father announced the engagement of his daughter to Alldouse, and that the wedding would soon take place, Carvel, with an ugly leer, arose, and with a curse strode across the room. Well, I'll have you understand that if Miss Nellie marries at all it'll be me! he roared, and with that he slapped the young lieutenant across the cheek, and de- parted. The party, so merry a few minutes before, stood speechless, white and tremb- ling, for Carvel was the best swordsman in all that county. Then the cool, steady voice of the lieutenant rang out, Who will be my second ? At dawn the next day four men stood in the keen, cold wind, two facing each other, and the others inhdeep conversation. Alldouse, his second said, are you willing to give Nellie over to the Colonel without fighting ? Never at any time will I give her to him, Alldouse replied grimly. She's mine l Thus commenced the hardest battle that Carvel had ever fought. The blades Hashed and grated time and again. Alldouse was getting the upper hand! Then suddenly, Carvel, with a lightning thrust of his sword, pierced his antagonist's defense, and two minutes later Alldouse lay prone and inert on the snow, stained with his life's blood. Sweet Miss Nellie followed her lover just eleven months later, but there was many a poor soul, who blessed her name for the sunshine she had brought to those around her during her own terrible sorrow. Carvel, the mighty, lived lonely and re- pentant for fifty long years, and at eighty- two on his death bed he muttered, Take her, Alldouse. She's yours l -MARY STOLTE, '27 SPIRIT OF THE NORTH Brandon drove a last blow into the base of the swaying spruce and stepped back quickly. just at that instant a mist of blown snow from the teetering tree blurred his vision and his ankle turned beneath his weight. As if in deadly coordination the falling tree slithered against a fellow and the butt shot viciously back, hurling the man backwards into the snow. Heskwith, -at the sled, heard the choked cry which came from the stricken man and hurried to his side. With tender hands he felt the sagged body. A touch on the chest and the wounded one's eyes opened with a flash of horror. Got your ribs, eh, boy? A faint hissing assent. 'Something in- sidge, too. Good--Lord! Don't touch- again l ' The other pursed his lips, and his brow wrinkled. You can't stay here, you'd freeze in ten minutes. I'll have to move you. He slipped an arm in under the other's shoulders, hesitated ia second at the con, tortion of Brandon's features, and with all possible care, glided with watchful steps to the half-made camp, gently de- positing his burden on the soft robes of the sled. He bent close to Brandon's face. The man was unconscious, barely breathing, and exhaling with the tiniest of gasps. Heskwith carefully tucked the heavy furs about his patient and rose, ruminatively muttering. Hell! Poor chap. Let's see-Doc Riv- ers is at Wolverine. That's sixty miles. I can't make more'n twenty a day at best- this way. He picked up the snake clog-whip. I-Ieyl Tusca, quit that! The lash curled around a dog's torso. VVe won't have any har- ness left, curse your evil hide, and we've got to get to Wolverine. With rapid, skilled movements he made a camp under the twilight of the north- ern sky. He fed the dogs, towering over them with the swift justice of the heavy whip. He gorged the fire till it roared its red Hame against the weirdness of the Aurora Borealis and drew a flush to the deathly face of Brandon as he lay helpless. It caused him to open his eyes and fix them in question upon Heskwith, who was busying himself with the preparation of the evening meal. Heskwith caught the mute gaze and grinned sympathetically. , Kind of hard, old man, eh? But 'Doc' will bring you around all right. Don't try to move. Want the furs shifted? So ho- o-o! boy! Have some tea in a minute. Everything all right F The other nodded faintly and the eye- lids drooped. Heskwith returned to the Ere and sal- vaged a capsized frying-pan at which he muttered words of profane nature. A wolf moaned ix1 the distance and the huskies lifted their noses at the stars, wail- ing in chorusing response. The man at the fire raised his head and listened to the sounds rand the tea was nearly lost because of his listening. A dog snarled at the edge of the fire-light and the listener shook him- self and replenished the blaze, till the twin dots of light about him retreated into the darkness. -1- 4: 14: at -4- sf -it -r if as The Aurora licked far into the zenith with trailing, wavering streamers of elec- tric colors..A slumberer slept peacefully by a pit of red glimmering coals and an- other lay on a sled. A lone dog wooed the wavering stars and the great wolves bayed not far distant. The silence kept watch. 4: 4: -of 14- sf 4: -4- 4: -r wk -it Early in the morning Heskwith arose and packed the sled. Brandon, half-con- seious of his partner's labors, lay without movement. Cheerfully, without grumble or lament, the well man ministered to the in- jured one, and the relation welded them together as only strong men who are friends are welded one to another. When at last Heskwith mushed his team to the south, there came not a sound, not a thought of discontent or lament from the one on the sled, though agonizing must have been the twitches and jolts of the uneven trail. So they went, this pair, into the south, slowly, for the wounded Brandon could not have lived through a day of fast mush- ing, and steadily, in the strong hope that they would find the one who could relieve the suffering. Three days later Heskwith stood in the cabin of Doe Rivers watching and listen- ing to the delirious wanderings of Bran-

Page 25 text:

Our Slogan PUBLIEHED O' Precedezzf, Not ' 4 Ogglgiiggeeirigger. Tradition. and June ..sW 5c '-'Jo SUbSCflP'fl0!'l, S1 21 YC31' lil ACIVHIICC S Entered at Brattleboro, Vt., Post Office as I 5111316 COPY, ZJC- Q Second-class Matter. ee I f5SAssouMlGf' PUBLISHED FIVE TIMES A YEAR BY THE STUDENTS OF THE HIGH SCHOOL AT BRATTLEBORO, -VT. VOLUME XXI DECEMBER, 1925 NUMBER TWQ ESSENTIAL TAO CHRISTMAS We are forgetting the true meaning of Christmas and must abolish much of our unnecessary celebration. Well then, let us adopt a simpler plan. First we will discard the custom of giving gifts, and by doing so we will save expense and labor. Then we will cast aside the green wreath with its gay red bittersweet berries, and the spruce tree adorned with its tinsel baubles, its colored baskets and its silver star. But that is not all. We must deny the child its Santa Claus and let the stocking remain unfilled. The Christmas carols sung by the children on Christmas Eve must no longer be sung, and pictures like that of Beacon Hill with its windows filled with lighted candles must be hidden from our sight. A thousand other unnecessary trifies like these must be destroyed. Now that we have abolished all of this unnecessary manifestation of Christmas we must be filled with only the true meaning of Christmas, the Christmas of love within us which fills the soul as nothing else does. But no. By discarding the presentation of gifts we have discarded the joy of giv- ing, and a way to show the love which accompanies it. By forgetting the green wreath and the Christmas tree we have de- nied ourselves a phase of beauty-some- thing which never should be denied. By destroying Santa Claus we have deprived the small child of the anticipation and of the old soul who is so lovable within the child's imagination. By forgetting the Christmas carols We have deprived our- selves of an emotion which only beautiful music can create, and by doing away with beautiful pictures of reality similar to the lighted candles in every window on Beacon Hill, we have destroyed a symbol of beauty which for the soul's sake must not be de- stroyed. Where then, would the Christmas within us be? It is through these material ex- pressions that we show our deeper appreci- ation for the day, and by so expressing our appreciation, we create a still deeper feel- ing. Are not these, then, necessary symbols of Christmas? I BOARD or EDITORS Editor-in-Chief ...... Marion Rice Managing Editor .. Franklin Sears Assistant Editor, Charlotte DeWitt Literary Board Dorothy Pettee ................ Helen Booth Parva Sed Apta ..... Katherine Locke Science ............ ......... C lara Crosier History ..................... Doris Robbins French ....................... Alice Darling School Notes Carlotta Nido .................. Lee Sexton Sophomore Reporter . ...... Eleanor Adams Freshman Reporter ...... Dorothy Metcalf Jokes Robert Coombs ............. Robert Culver Alumni Miriam Fitts ........... Marion Fairbanks Exchange Marguerite Wellman .......... Doris Wood Athletics Max Gissin Winston Brasor Faculty Advisors I. Mathilde Huse ...... Georgia Kauffman Business Board Advertising Manager .. Timothy O'Connot Circulation Manager ........ Thor Olson All business communications should be addressed to Managing Editor, The Dial, Brattleboro, Vt. All other communications to the Editor-in-Chief. '1 CONVENTION The snow is lying very deep. My house is sheltered from the blast, I hear each muffled step outside. I hear each voice go past. But I'll not venture in the drift Out of this bright security, Till enough footsteps come and go To make a path for me. -AGNES LEE. It would be a stagnant civilization if the world were made up of people who failed to venture out upon some new phase of life until the path was trodden for them and the way proved safe. There are a surprising number of people, however, who think that progress is a natural step in the history of the human race and that civilization needs no stimulus to better its past accomplish- If fewer people ments or make new ones. were afraid to leave the bright securityn of their own life, who can deny that civili- zation would be much farther advanced than it is now. lf each person would carry out his object instead of failing to do so because it hasn't been done, then who can conceive what a brilliant civilization would await us? Fortunate for us there have been men who have defied convention in religion, in science, in industry, in politics, in writing, -in fact in every phase of advancement which would not have been 'advancement except for them. Let everyone class himself in either of the two groups-the group of people who are willing to break the path, or the ones who wait until the path is broken for them. Which are you? IGI IEE IGI The following students have been ap- pointed typists for the DIAL: Katherine Haus, Marjorie Ober, Edna Peterson, Flor- ence Hallgren, Geneva Johnson, Dorothy Evans, Marjorie Martin, Louise Pier, Edith Streeter, .Alice Hallgren, Beatrice Underwood, Lewis Thomas and Robert Stebbins. Since much of the accuracy of the printer depends on the accuracy of the copy from which he works, all can see the importance of the typist's work for the DIAL. We are fortunate in having capable and conscien- tious students to do this exacting work. AND WE WON A parade to the football field . . . a band . . . the school song . . . purple and white banners . . . horns and harmonicas . . . peppy cheers led by four boys in white. What does it mean? It means that every member of B. H. S. was loyal to the football team and was backing it every minute of the last three games. What was the result? Our team won those three hard-fought games for us. It pays! Christmas vacation-a good time to make up all that studying we were going to do over the Thanksgiving recess. lf Christmas comes, then Midyears can't be far behind. V

Page 27 text:

don. Finally the eyes of the prostrate one opened and in them there gleamed intelli- gence. The other grinned and his eyes were not free from moisture. It's all right, bo, the 'Doc' says you'll pull through. Brandon looked far away. What's the date? Heskwith calculated. By George, it's the twenty-fifth o' De- cember! Brandon closed his eyes and smiled faintly, his mind on faraway things. Just what I wanted old man. Thanks, much. A -L. W. SEXTON, '26, FAITH The cheery scenes that passed through the lone traveler's mind as he trudged along the snow-covered trail presented a great contrast to the scenes around him. Eddies of snow swirled and danced about, each new rush giving him a heavier coat of powdered snow. The voice of the Northland King, in his exquisite palace of ice, was heard in the furious, chilling blasts of the wind. As Hoyt Alden struggled through the fury of a New England blizzard, he thought of his snug cabin nestling in its bower of giant northern pines and midget spruce trees. A table, hewn from an oak by him the previous summer, would be covered with a brightly dyed, homespun cloth, the work of Ellen's industrious fingers. Instead of the usual pewter plates and cups, Ellen would undoubtedly use the best dishes- heavy chinaware with the stamp Ye Olde Dishe Co., Yorkshire, England. The knives and forks would be scoured to their orig- inal brightness with sand collected from the brook-bed last fall. Alden could almost smell the fragrant, delicious, snowy-white biscuits made from their precious little hoard of wheat fiour brought over in the last boat from Eng- land. Potatoes, roasted amid the ashes in the great stone fireplace, would repose in state on their heavy wooden platter. Toasted corn-bread to be spread with wild crabapple jelly and flavored with quince. Of course there would be the usual veni- son and bear-steak, but to celebrate Saint Nicholas' pending visit, a huge roasted tur- key prepared in a way of which Ellen was master. The delicious, appetizing odors seemed to be borne on the wind to Alden's nostrils. This was too much for his poor hungry stomach and it groaned in protest. The curtain of snow was brushed aside several times. With a start, Hoyt realized that he was within a few rods of the cabin. ' Queer, thought he, that there is hard- ly any light within. Ellen must be ill. He became alarmed when his mittened hand touched the slightly opened door. The ial Entering cautiously he closed the door and put thc bar into place. Placing his back against the heavy oaken door he surveyed the one room with amazement and dismay. Some of Ellen's prized china cups lay on the floor in pieces, the crudely made stools and chairs were over-turned and Tinker, the dog, lay dead against the opposite wall, his blood still flowing slowly from a great ragged cut in his side. Alden groaned in anger and sorrow as he saw that the head of the well-loved household pet had been crushed by a blow from some blunt in- strument. Tinker had evidently been faith- ful to the end. Hoyt suddenly became aware that the fire was almost out. Crossing to the fire- place he took shavings and bits of wood and placed them on the fast-greying em- bers. Kneeling, he feverishly fanned the smouldering heap with his big, wide- brimmed conical hat. Once the tiny blaze almost died, but by careful nursing the fiame gave place to two, and the second to a third, until finally a great fire was roaring in the fireplace. Lighting a candle, he took off his knitted muffler and cloak and placed them over a chair before the fireplace to dry. Bewildered, he sat down on a stool. Clasping his head in his hands he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Raising his head again after a few moments of haunt- ing silence, broken only by the crackling iiames and the scratchy, gritty sound of the snow as it was hurled against the oiled paper which was used in the window in- stead of glass, Hoyt looked again thought- fully about the disordered room. The dried ears of red and yellow corn still hung down from the rafters, Ellen's precious Windsor desk in the corner was open, the papers and the quill pen lay scattered over the top. The stools and chairs, so painstakingly made last sum- mer out of oak and cedar lay upside down on the floor. Suddenly sniffing the air a noticeably scorchy odor prodded Alden and aroused him from his daze. Unable to think of the cause or place of this odor he rose from the stool and turned slowly around, snifiing the air. As he turned once more to the fireplace, he noticed that the warming pan was not in its usual place near the bellows. Quick- ly it dawned on him that Ellen must have put coals in the pan and placed it between the sheets to warm the bed before the now prevailing disorder had been brought about. Running to a bed in one corner he threw back the quilts and pulled out the missing warming pan from the scorched sheets and returned it to its place. Deciding that there must be some clue to the mystery, he dropped on his hands and knees and began searching among the broken crockery. ,His eyes suddenly bright- ened with excitement and expectation as 3 he pulled out 'the hilt of a bowie knife. Only a little of the blade remained, and the hilt was covered with blood. Was it Ellen's innocent blood? Ellen, his sweet young wife of only a year, this very Christmas Eve? No, no! God forbid! Tearfully, shudderingly, he thrust the hate- ful 'thing away from him, then took it into his hands again, realizing that it was his only clue. Turning the hilt over again he perceived I, Lackland faintly carved in the wood. Dropping it as though it were a hot coal, he stared down at the object with agonized eyes. Lackland, the rene- gade and outlaw, the brute of the country- side, had carried Ellen offg whether or not she was dead, he could not guess. Hot, stinging, blinding tears came to his eyes and he lurched to the table for sup- port. Mute with grief and anxiety he could only move his head in protest at this over- whelming catastrophe. Realizing that this was not getting him anywhere he donned his heavy cloak, jammed his hat down on his head, wound his long mufiier around his neck several times, put on his heavy Woolen mittens and rushed out into the storm once more. Current rumors said that Lackland's hide-out was in the cave on White Horse Ledge across the river by,the same name. Half crazed with forebodings Alden struck out in the direction of White Horse River with no idea of what he would do when he arrived at his destination. Ioyously the wind caressed its new vic- tim with cold wintry blasts and threw the blinding snow into Alden's eyes. Trees creaked and groaned as they were forced down by the ruling king. Branches were snapped from trees like tooth picks and hurled down about the poor unprotected man. The way became more and more dithcult, making it necessary for Alden to grope his way through the forest. Suddenly a cruel blow on the head tumbled him onto a group of jagged rocks, not wholly covered by a soft cushion of snow. A muffled voice called Are you badly hurt? but Alden had lost his power of speech. - Awaking hours later, Alden stared in amazement around the room of his own cabin. The room was clean and everything, as far as he could see, was in its place-the fire bellows on the hearth and the warming pan beside it. The rude table was set for three. Odors of roasting fowl, potatoes and stew simmering in the huge pot in the fireplace drifted to his nose. Feeling someone's eyes upon him-he sat up to encounter the eyes of a stranger, dressed in trapper's clothing-fringed deer- suit, leggings and moccasins bound thongs. Straight as the straightest he stood, looking into Alden's puz- skin with pine, zled face with honest blue eyes-the kind that are always smiling.