Brearley School - Brearley Book Yearbook (New York, NY)

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salamanders. Most of the center of the room is occupied by another table, hold- ing Chemical Sets No. 15 and 20. He is very proud of his scientific ability. When he gets Chemical Set No. 35, he will have a laboratory comparable to that of the Rockefeller Institute. At the age of seven he first heard of Tarzan, who influenced him greatly. I believe there was a time about a year ago when he went about clad in a tiger- skin, with the tiger's tail tied like a fillet about his head. He was restrained with great difliculty from going abroad in this attire. Every day at luncheon his mother is properly horrified by sanguinary ac- counts of spit-ball battles at school. He generally brings home a small English boy who has won his admiration because he can construct an electric light that can be put in a fish bowl without exploding. With this contrivance the Boy examines the inner workings of a tropical f1sh's system more closely. He is at the embarrassing age when he thinks it feminine to be polite. His most frequent reply to a dulcet good-bye is go jump in a lake or sit on a tack, or some other such admonition. Whenever there is a male guest in the house, the Boy thinks he is being perfectly charming if he asks him to wrestle. Of course, the guest, not to be outdone in virility by a mere eleven-year-old, wrestles. Laziness is his greatest vice, by moderately exercising his persuasive powers he can make anyone do anything for him. Last spring he was desirous of a flshpool in back of the house. He looked appealingly at his sister and in Eve minutes she was helping him mix cement. Any boy at this age considers swearing the mark of manhood. The Boy is trying to impress his family with his right to do as his father does. On suitable occasions he utters a very sheepish Hell, and then looks apprehensively at his mother. When every one laughs, he does not know whether to be relieved or awfully angry. He has had any number of dogs but the one he liked best was nothing more than a mutt, a combination of police-dog and collie. He found him in the street and called him, despite the protestations of his more elegant sisters, Plucky. When Plucky died, the Boy became uncontrollable and broke a butcher's window. He is saving his money now so that when he is twenty, he and his mother may go to live in the heart of Africa. If he relents toward his sisters, they will be allowed to visit him. BERYL DAWSON. U31

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PROVENCE WINE Facing the sapphire sea's peaceful expanse, There rolls a fertile valley, warm, serene, Encased in rocky peaks where nature plants The prickly scrub and tall dark evergreen. Here, in the vineyards, autumn paints a spot Of gold and orange on her scarlet suit, And sweetens purple grapes, but touches not The silver olives laden with black fruit. A sip of muscatel carried my mind Back to the tfendmzge in this sunny plain. Outdoors, around the tables where they dined, The bright-clothed pickers sang a gay refrain. The taste faded away. I heard winds beat And saw snow melting in the grimy street. PAULINE MANSHIP THE BOY The boy is in an offensive position, fighting the good fight against the biased feminine opinion that surrounds him. In the matter of dress his sisters must confess themselves vanquished, for their great chic and discrimination have not prevailed against his healthy male impulses. Somewhere he has re- ceived the impression that it is sissified to get a hair-cut, this impression, coupled with a natural dread of a barber's shears, results in his head's looking like a study of Neolithic man. His eyes are green fthis has for eleven years caused consternation among the Dawsonsj, and his teeth are still coming out and growing in again, a little ragged at the edges. He infinitely prefers an awful pair of corduroy knickers to more respectable clothes, indeed he will fight tooth and nail if you suggest that he wear a necktie. Wlien he is greatly vexed with his sisters, he will unbuckle his knickers at the knee, because he considers this wounding to their sensibilities. His room is filled with as odd an assortment as his pockets: Lithuanian daggers, a bloodstained sword from the Civil War, several pictures of Lilyan Tashman, and some of his own studies of pumas, jaguars, and tigers adorn the walls. One large table near the window displays several bowls of sea life- tropical fish and gupies look through their walls at red ram's-horn snails and l52l

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JEANNE D'ARC Armour of silver, and a milk-white horse They gave you, and you found a holy sword. Those are a saint's own trappings, and, of course You were a faithful servant of the Lord. But a black charger had become you best, And golden mail that dazzled all men's eyes, And a great sword that had not taken rest And spent a century hidden from the skies. Queens dress in white and silver, and a king Must have a sword with relics in the hilt. You needed no saint's prayers for pardoning, No virgin robes to show you free from guilt, Though every man, through some obscure device, Considers fire wickeder than ice. BETSY WYCKOITF. DIFFERENCE FROM ME IS THE MEASURE OF ABSURDITYH ' Our sense of humor, on which we pride ourselves so much, is merely our ability to appreciate absurdity. A situation in which the acting characters are thrown out of their habitual places in their routine of life, either by loss of dignity, or by being put in some incongruous position, seems ridiculous and therefore amusing to us. Very few of us, however, are able to laugh when we ourselves are the victims of the joke. To be amused by the plight of some one else, we must feel, at the time, a sense of security from a similar plight. I think it funny, when, walking along the street, more or less inconspicuously dressed, I see an old lady arrayed in all the finery of fifty years ago. Were I dressed likewise, however, I should understand the old lady's annoyance at being made fun of, and should pity her instead of joining in the laughter. I indulge my taste for violent color in orange and brown sweaters, red dresses and green hats. I think Agnes Halsey is thoroughly ridiculous to indulge hers in white linen dresses with red embroidery. I should never wear them. Therefore, in my opinion, they are not worthy of being worn. My hair is straight. I think any woman who will sit for four hours with every hair on her head held up so tightly that she can not even move her eyebrows, and allow E543