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

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8 last shine, but it seems like a century ago. I step outside and freeze to death. I stay inside and have the Hbluesf' And then they say, 'fSuch wonderful cold, crisp air. It's so invigorating. Isn't it just fine, twen- ty below zero, and coal so scarce you have to buy it by the spoonful, not knowing when there'll be more. It seems to be getting warmer and snow- ing less, and I begin to feel better and so go out, and in about half an hour the land is turned into an ocean of slush, and the rain is pouring down my neck. I rush back home to get warm and dry, and I find the house cold, damp, and the fire out. I go downstairs for kindling, and the cellar is half full of water. I go upstairs and the paper's in ruins and the floor and ceiling soaked. I'm miserable. Yes, I love the winter and snow! . -FRANCES H. Hrzvwoon, '26 Q QQ Q ll! Book hat QQQ QQ QEQ QQ MODERN FICTION Here's a list of the newest and most popular fiction and poetry. Let's read! The Keeper of the Bees Gene Stratton Porter Glorious Apollo .......... E. Barrington Soundings ........... A. Hamilton Gibbs The Red Lamp Mary Roberts Rinehart The Perennial Bachelor .... Anne Parrish Red Ashes ............ Margaret Pedlfrr Little Ships ............ Kathleen Norris One Increasing Purpose A. S. M. Hutchinson Arrowsmith .............. Sinclair Lewis The Great Pandolfo .... William I. Locke Poetry What's O'Clock ............ Amy Lowell Sonnets with Folk Songs from the Spanish ........... Havelock Ellis Ladders through the Blue Hermann I-Iagedorn Laura Lane and other Poems Nathalia Crane Priapus and the Pool .... Conrad Aiken Gay but Wistful .......... Newman Levy . . . . . . . . . Coontee Cullen Pluck in Pasture Elizabeth Mackenstry Two Lines .............. VVilliam Leonard Color .... . ..... UGLORIOUS APOLLO E. Barrington This book tells in a most interesting anil different way of the life and loves of the poet, Byron. This book changed my entire opinion of him. I had always had the illusion that Byron had been sadly used by life, but now I find that it was he, be tal who had taken life with all crudity, used the worst and thrown down the best. We have always heard that Byron's wife was a shrew who made his life miserable, but there she is pictured as a most lovable woman, with all strong and gracious char- acteristics, All of Byron's faults are here pictured as human, not as the misdemeanors of a wonderful poet. You will wonder how a man of such a nature could write the in- tense poems of the beautiful side of life, which he himself had known and flung aside, for in his every-day life every move he made was a contradiction to his ideals as expressed in his works. What is your opinion? Have you, too, clung to the traditional opinion of Byron? -KATHERINE LOCKE, '26 THE OTHER WISE MAN ' Everyone knows the story of the Three Wise Men of the East and of their journey to Bethlehem with gifts to offer at the manger-cradle of the Christ Child. But how many of us have read Henry Van Dyke's tale The Other Wise Man, the story of Artaban who also saw the star rise and set out to follow it but who, on account of delay, did not arrive in time at the Temple of the Seven Spheres to ac- company his three fellow searchers? Un- willing to give up hope of finding the King, his greatest and his one desire in life, alone, with a caravan of faithful camels, he crossed the tracklessdeserts to Judea, bearing his two gifts, a ruby and a pearl, for which he had sold his home and his possessions. It was three days after the arrival of the others that Artaban came to Bethlehem, tired and worn but ever pushed on by hope. Alas, it was only to find that Joseph, Mary and Jesus had fled to Egypt. Of Artaban's life, trials, and disappoint- ments, of his desire, denied yet accom- plished in the denial, Van Dyke gives us a wonderful and a worth-while account. This story, though short, makes one better for having read it. -M. XVELLMAN, '27 EBB-TIDE Floyd Osbourne and Robert Louis Stev- enson wrote this unusual book of the South Seas. It is a tale of three men who are on the rocks in a small settlement on an isolated island. We are told there is nothing so terrible or so conducive to sordidness as being penniless, friendless, and without prospect of future betterment in such a place. There are many men who have been and are in such a place, despairing of ever getting enough money to buy a passage out. They depend on others for hand-outs. Castoff clothing, a white man's meat, or small amounts of money from more fortunately situated fel- low-whites keep the life and hope in the body, for terrible are the disappointments some of these men receive. VVe are made to feel, through this story, some of the hopelessness, the dreariness of it all. Three such men tinally find a way out through the abilities of one of them, an ex- captain of a ship. They get the job of taking a trading schooner to another island but decide to sail on to the Argentine and there sell the boat and make tracks for civilization. The tale centralizes itself about one of the three who was once of a respectable English family and of excel- lent position. He, through misfortune and peculiarities in his character, had come to this low level, only to find himself again through this voyage. The schooner never reaches Argentina since, for some reason or other, they are forced to land on an island which is inhabited by a single white man and a number of the Polynesian race. Finally the villainous member of the trio is destroyed by his own black purposes and the other two are made to see, by the greatness of the man of their own race, that there are things for which to live honestly and they make their home with him. Vital human nature plays a powerful role in this drama of the tropics. You are advised to ,interest yourself in this remark- able book. -L. W. SEXTON, '26 Q Zllll IIIIIIIllIIIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllll IIIIIllIIIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllll ILUJJIIHIIKIII llllh Em ncccuoon onmcfumuluutntcourol: ox . I 5 IE EE E5 French Department L'ESPRIT DE NOEL De quelque endroit inconnu Vient l'esprit qui est tres doux. Ce sentiment est eternel- C'est l'esprit puissant de Noel. C'est puissant parce qu'il fait le monde Plein d'une soumission profonde. On a aussi une reverence Qui ne permet pas d'insouciance. Les etrennes et les bons cadeaux Expriment l'esprit qui est si beau. Les enfants eclatent dans le cri- N'oel! C'est maintenant ici E Le monde jouit si ardemment La chaleur de ce sentiment! Il aime sentir la chaleur gaie Autour de son coeur fatigue. On sent toujours une vie nouvelle Entrer dans soi-meme quand Noel Est ici pour une autre fois, Et on en jouit comme un roi. -RUTH E. OBER, '26

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gljmljmmmmmmmljmg U Parva Sed Apta U E U UUUUUUEIUUEDUEE CHRISTMAS SKETCHES Merry home-comings,-portals gay with garlands, lofty hallways with their sprigs of mistletoe, rows of flickering tapers of mystic fragrance-Glad Noel! lk 4: 4: Pk 4: 42 Ik lk 4: 4: Pk A soft pattering of tiny feet on the stair- way and over the balcony, chubby faces of youngsters, feverish with excitement. Squeals of delight, and open-mouthed won- dermcnt are inevitable as the Christmas room door opens, revealing longed-for playthings, hosts of candies, heaps of neatly wrapped gifts beneath the glittering tree. 4: x 4: Pk if 4: lk Pk 4: 4: Pk A huge moon with a golden path across the be-diamonded snow, a brilliantly lighted church tower, mellow chimes, now the jing-jing, now the ding-dong of sleigh-bells, an ideal Christmas Eve in the hamlet. -CLARA CRosIER, '26 ' MAGIC BEAUTY Snow! What a beautiful thing it is! In winter, when- the whole countryside is blanketed in the feathery whiteness of the snow, have you not often wondered what each and every flake looks like? Snow crystals are tiny six-pointed ice particles, incomparably beautiful and va- ried. The delicate tracery of many snow flakes is in solid and branching crystal forms of loveliness. Jewelers and art craftsmen have found inspiration in the varied and symmetrical forms of snowflake gems, of which no two are alike. New and unique patterns are continually being wrought in Nature's cloudland laboratory. For all time this annual miracle of the snows will occur and the favored regions of the Earth will be showered with count- less jewels of almost unbelievable beauty and magic. -ELEANOR ADAMS, '28 TREES IN WINTER All the trees in the first heavy snow- storm are trying to be Christmas trees. The maples hold the white burden as if it were no load at all and the graceful elm tree has an intricate feathery pattern among its branches. Trees are wonderful at every season, but their magnificence cannot be surpassed in the season when the snow coats each twig and limb. The pines and balsams lend charm to every winter landscape and the hillsides would seem bare if it were not for the The tal evergreens now drooping to the ground with the weight of the crystal covering. Then there are the tinsel-trimmed trees that give so much pleasure in the house on Christmas morning, with gayly colored glass balls and red, gold and green electric lights. These have an important place but I would rather have my tree out in the open where the wind can toss it and roar through its branches. -LOUISE PIER, '26 WHAT IS SNOW? Webster's Dictionary states that snow is watery particles congealed into white flakes in the air. Dad says snow is that pretty white sub- stance which causes that awful coal rbill, doctor's bill, shoe bill, and other bills too numerous to mention. mother is something which Snow to causes her a good deal of anxiety, because the children are continually wetting their feet and contracting terrible colds. To lack, who is a ski enthusiast, snow is delightful flakes of white, but it is a cruel reality the morning after that big snowstorm, which lack has been looking forward to so eagerly. When Mother calls him ten minutes ahead of time so that he can shovel that mile and a half of path from the front door to the sidewalk, Iack's definition of snow is, a horrid old mess that means nothing but drudgeryf' To sister Mary, snow means a fur coat, but alas it also means woolen stockings, and those tiresome overshoes which mother positively forbids her to unbuckle. To the artist, snow is the thing that makes the trees and the landscape more beautiful. To the dreamer, snow is that downy, white blanket which covers up the cruel realities of the world. What do you think snow is? -KATHERINE STONE, '28 BY MOONLIGHT A blinding, hissing, biting blizzard had raged all day and the lone packer had lost his way. The storm ceased about sundown and the packer camped near the top of a barren hill. Being busy making things shipshape and getting his supper he had not noticed his surroundings until, stepping from his tent after the meal he Was amazed by the beauty of the scene which lay be- fore him. The full moon shone clear and frosty over the dark purple crags of Old Topple- top jutting up out' of the distance. The air had grown rapidly colder and the snow, now crusted hard, sparkled like diamonds in the light, Every few moments there would be a sharp crack and some young fir tree would straighten up, its burden of shining icicles, shattered by the intense 7 cold, tinkling musically on the dazzling crust. Down on the edge of the woods the lower branches of a thick hemlock stirred slightly and a red fox stepped stealthily out, awed by this clear white world. Over in the spruce thicket on the other side of the knoll a deer crashed away through the woods, past a deep wooded ravine through which raged an unfrozen but chill torrent. An icy blast reminded the packer that he was standing out unheeding the biting coldness of the air, absorbed in the wonder of such loveliness. -H. MARCH, '26 THE SOLACE Alike on Held and city, on mansions and on hovels fall the flakes, changing even the most barren things to beauty. Muddy roads become white pathways stretching off into the distance, picket fences are tufted with little white mounds, and bleak arch- ways become fairy-like in their whiteness. Childish voices rend the air and ruddy cheeks glow in the falling twilight. And still it snows and snows, slowly and silently sifting down, down, in the darkening hours of a December afternoon. As we watched, a great calmness seemed to How over us. And just as God healed the scars on earth by this great white snowfall, so our woes and hardships were healed by its peaceful falling, falling. So a world of realities and sorrows was changed to a world of possi- bilities and of tomorrows. -KATHARINE LOCKE, ,26 CHRISTMAS It is Christmas eve. Everyone in the small town is hurrying, hurrying, trying to spread more Christmas cheer than they have already succeeded in giving. Last min- ute shoppers crowd the stores. The tired clerks try to do their best in satisfying the fussy purchasers. Evidently the people have not read in the papers how many shopping days there were before Christmas and the Do your Christmas shopping early signs. As the hour approaches six, business slackens. Houses are lighted up. Sleigh bells sound in the distance. The moon rises, shedding a pale blue light on the newly fallen snow. The hour grows later. The church clock strikes twelve. Near the house of an in- valid is a group of singers, carolling forth the Christmas story. The old English Carols sound celestial in the crisp night air. The village grows quiet. The night passes slowly and once more the town awakens to another Merry Christmas. -FRANCES BENNETT, '28 PATHOS OF A PESSIMIST Snow, snow, snowvthafs all it seems to do. The sun hasn't shone all day, all week, all year. Oh, I don't know when it did

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L'HIVER VIENT! L'automne vient de partir, et maintenant c'est le tour de l'hiver froid avec le vent du nord. Les feuilles rouges, jaunes, et bruns sont par terre, et les nuages gris arrivent. Un matin la neige est en train de tomber, et les oiseaux sont partis. La belle dame d'automne avec toute sa gaiete, et toute sa beaute est conquise, car elle reste morte au fond et le grand monsieur, l'hiver, met son couvert blanc sur toutes les maisons, tous les arbres, et tous les brins d'l'1erbes. Chantant, la joyeuse princesse de glace danse sur l'eau, ses yeux luisants. Les montagnes ont la semblance de grands gateaux blancs. Le Noel arrivera bientot avec la joie et la pensee du bon Dieu qui est ne ce jour pour tout le monde. fMARY STOLTE, '27 NOEL EN FRANCE La plupart des familles franeaises cele- brent la fete de Noel. Dans toutes les maisons sur la veille du Noel la buche de Noel flambe. Et l'arbre de Noel brille avec les bougies allumees et les cadeaux gais et brilliants. Les petits mettent leurs sabots devant la cheminee. Si le sabot est luisant et propre, Le Pere Noel le remplit avec des bonbons et peut-etre un petit jouet. Mais si le sabot est poudreux, il reste vide, et triste, en verite, est l'enfant qui ne recoit rien dans son sabot. La veille de Noel, tout le monde est gai et heureux, en jouant avec les enfants et en chantant des cantiques de Noel. Le jour de Noel est une fete religieuse. On met ses meilleurs habits et l'on va a 1'eglise. Le jour est celebre comme le jour de naissance du Christ. Les eloclies de Noel sonnent toutes en haut de la tour, et le predicateur preche dans l'eglise, de l'Enfant Qui naquit en Bethleem pour sauver les gens du monde. Et d'un bout at l'autre de l'eglise resonnent les mots, G1oire soit at Dieu au plus haut des cieux, paix sur la terre et la bonne volonte envers les hommes! -ALICE J. DARLING, '26 LE TENEUR DE LIVRES' Le Teneur De Livresn est une histoire d'un vieux homme, Jacques Ferlac, qui tient les livres de la maison Durand. Il etait tres pauvre parce qu'il n'avait qu'un appointment de cent vingt-cinq francs par mois. Et aussi il avait, une petite lille a elever. Il a essaye de trouver une autre maison dont il pourrait tenir les comptes parce qu'il avait chaque semaine quelques jours de liberte. Mais il ne pourrait pas trouver une autre maison, peut-etre parce- qu'il etait trop tard ou parce-qu'il porta une redingote demodee et un air malheur- eux et aussi les patrons n'etaient pas in- spires de sympathie. , C'etait le jour avant le Noel et il tra- Ulibz tal vaillait devant une table chargee de gros livres. La pendule sonnait six coups et Jacques Farlac se levait et endossant son pardessus, il prenait son chapeau et ouv- rait la porte du bureau de son patron. Il restait la quelques moments et enfm il disait:- Monsieur, vous savez que je ne suis pas riche, pourriez-vous m'avancer quelque chose sur mon mois? Le patron froncait les sourcils mais il etait au fond un bon homme et il dit, D'ordinaire nous ne faisons pas d'avancesg mais vous devez avoir besoin d'argent parce que demain est le Noel, passez a la caisse et on vous don- nera quelque chose sur votre mois. Jacques etait tres heureux. Il prit l'argent et le mit dans son Vieux porte-monnaie. En dehors le temps etait tres froid. Il remontait jusqu'a ses oreilles le collet de son pardessus et les mains dans les poehes il sleloignait. Les jouets l'attirent surtout. Dans une vitrine inondee de lumiere, une belle poupee blonde et bouclee, aux longs yeux d'email, lui souriait, tendant vers lui ses mains pleines de fossettes. ll a oublie qu'il etait pauvre et il' voulait apporter cette poupee at son enfant. 11 entrait dans le magasin et demandait at la marchande le prix de la poupee. Elle repondait Vingt francs. Le main de Jacques pressait desesperement le porte- monnaie et il repondait C'est trop cheref' Puis la marchance voyait la douleur sur son Visage et elle lui dit, C'etait pour votre lille? Jacques repondait, Oni, Alors il lui dit qu'il etait un pauvre homme qui tient les comptes de la maison Durand. Il dit qu'il portait un vieux redingote et que quelques personnes se moquaient de lui, mais une caresse de sa lille le faisait oublier ses miseres. Et pourvu qu'elle soit heureuse, il etait heureux aussi. ll lui dit qu'il avait cherche souvent pour des autres maisons ou il pourrait tenir les comptes mais qu'il n'en pourrait trouver pas une. Quand il avait fini, la marchande dit qu'elle aimait les enfants et qu'elle voulait qu'il amenerait sa petite lille la voirg et aussi, avait-elle cherche depuis longtemps un homme qui pourrait tenir ses comptes, mais elle ne pourrait trouver personne. Elle allait lui donner un tres grand appointement. Elle lui donnait la poupee pour douze francs. ' Jacques etait tres heureux quand il ren- trait. Sa fille, Blanchette, coura a lui et il la prit sur ses genoux et lui donna la poupee et lui dit comment le Pere Noel avait pense at elle. Si l'on travaille fidelement, sa recompense viendra. -DORIS E. ROBBINS, '26 LE BAPTEME Le Bapteme par Maupassant, est une petite histoire, une peu triste, de la cere- monie par laquelle on baptise un nouveau- ne. Tout le monde, les hommes, les femmes, et lc belle etaient enclimanches. La cloche 9 de l'eglise tinta et la famille quitta la mai- son pour l'eglise. La garde avec le bebe allait la premiere, puis le grandpere et les deux grandmeres, les jeunes gens et le pere et la mere du nouveau-ne. - - Les gamins, les gens, et les filles de ferme, vraiment tout le monde, s'arreterent pour voir le bapteme. Quand ils arriverent at l'eglise, la porte etait ouverte. Toute la famille entra dans l'eglise et le pretre, un oncle du petit bap- tisa son neveu Prosper-Cesar. Prosper Cesar n'aima pas le sel symbolique et il se mit a pleurer. Apres la ceremonie tout le monde revint avec la famille pour le grand diner. Le pretre a porte son neveu en revenant de l'eglise car la garde etait lasse. Il devint tres triste tout at coup parce que au moment qu'il a prit l'enfant, il a su qu'il desira un enfant mais qu'il n'en aurait jamais parce qu'un pretre ne peut pas se marier. Toute la journee pendant que la famille et les invites mangeaient, parlaient, et lan- caient des allusions, le pretre restait tres triste en regardant son neveu. Quand l'enfant'se mit at pleurer la jeune mere emporta son lils dans la chambre voisin et le placa dans son berceau. Le pretre avait disparu et le soir pendant que les invites prenaient du cafe, la mere est alle voir si le petit dormait toujours. Mais en entendant un bruit singulier elle ressortit et raconta la chose aux invites. Tout le monde entra dans la chambre et at genoux pres du berceau, ils ont trouve le pretrequi sanglotte, -MARGUERITE WELLMAN LA MUSIQUE MODERNE DE LA DANSE En notre pays, il y a une compagnie des gens qui deplorent la condition de la mus- ique moderne, surtout, celle de la danse. Ils disent que le jazz perde les jeunes gens, et qu'il sera la ruine de toute la bonne musique, Pourtant le jazz est extinct. Le vrai jazz etait cela des annees 1916-19. En ce temps-la, tous les musiciens, que jouaient pour la dance, faisaient leur possible pour creer le plus grand bruit. C'etait le jour des cesseroles, de fer blanc et des cow bells. Mais maintenant, tout cela est passe. M. Paul Vllhiteman est l'homme a qui il nous faut faire nos devoirs. Il a travaille pour nous faire la musique pour la danse qui est vraiment la musique. Il appuie sur le rhythme parfait. Il ne produit pas des mauvaises bruits, ni des dissonances. C'est pour ceci que les gens qui estiment la bonne musique aiment lui entendre. Toutes les orchestres de haut rang suivent son ex- ample, et ils produisent la musique qui de- vrait satisfaire tout le monde progressif. -BYRON LEACH, P. G.