Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

Text from Pages 1 - 24 of the 1920 volume:

THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS COMPLIMENTS OF NATIONAL INDIA RUBBER COMPANY COMPLIMENTS OF-- THE OLD TONSORIAL BARBER Mt. Hope Block II COMPLIMENTS OF- COMPLIMENTS OF- SHOE SHINE PARLORS American Legion Barber Shop Y. D. Barber FRANK SILVIA Baker’s Old Stand. 99 Bradford Street SODE'NE CIUSTI • 1 ' BAKERS State Street (gmtt an WAS LINOTYPED AND PRINTED IN THE JOB DEPARTMENT OF THE BRISTOL PHOENIX. William Amanna John J. August Mark H. Bailey Henry Barton, Jr. Alton H. Barrett Charles R. Beals Leon Benjamin Raymond E. Bliven William A. Bottomley O. Griswold Boynton Merrill H Boynton Prescott A. Bradic Samuel J. Brelsford James H. Brown Edward R. Bullock Edward E, Bunn S. Hyde Cabot L. H. Cal Ian Paul Canada Prank P. Clark Lloyd R Clowes Arthur A. Coggeshall Daniel W. Coggeshall Fred M. Coggeshall William C Conley John J Collins John J. Condon William G. Cook Lloyd C. Crapo Edward Cunningham Matthew Cunningham William B. Darling Louis Deconing John B. DeWolf Mark A. D’Wolf F. Reginald Dimond Lillian M. Donovan Joseph L. Duffy Earle K. Dunbar George N. Dunbar Albert O. Earle Henry G. Earle Henry Eisenberg Charles E. Farley Bentley B. Farr George R. Fish Albert H. Flint, Jr. George A. Gale William Gale William C. Gardiner James A. Garrity Frederick E. Garvin Alexander E. Geisler Herbert Geisler Harvard Goettler Isaac W. Gorham Howard B. Gray Harold F. Greene Alec Guivremont John Lloyd Haines Wilfred M. Hammill Bernard Hart L. Francis Herreshoff Nathaniel G. Herreshoff, Jr. Harold E. Hill George L. Howe Frank Hughes John F. Hughes Hezekiah Ingraham John E. Ingraham Albert N. Into Edwin G. Into Leo Kennison Samuel Kennison Harry K. James James F. Keating, Jr. Russell S. Kenney Ralph F. Kinder George L. Kinnicutt Edward L. Leahy John E. Leahy Thomas S. Leahy George F. Marshall Leon McCaw Frank H. McCarthy Cornelius McElvogue Edwin Montross Philip C. Morris Daniel L. Morrissey John H. Morrissey, Jr. William H. Munro Robert W. Nelson Willard G. Newman Carl Neumann, Jr. Clarence A. Osterberg Harold Pauli J. Howard Pauli Basil H. Perry Charles V. Perry, Jr. John H Pickles Norman Rose James W. Salisbury Renne A. Sawyer Henry F. Serbst Harold Shippee George P. Sisson Albert E. Sparks, Jr. Charles H. Sparks Franklin H. Springer Rowse Springer William H. Starkey John M. Stowell Woodbury Stowell Harleigh V. S. Tingley Edward L. Traynor A. Ramsay Trotter Helen H Trotter Edward P. Trudell Ernest H. Webb Bertram W. Wall Timothy E. Walsh Leonard J. Warren Leicester Watts Robert D. Watts R. Gordon Williams William R. Williston Fred F. Wilson Vincent C. Young J ie reen an 'White VOL. III. JUNE, 1920. No 1. ISSl'KD BY THE STUDENTS OF THE COLT MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL. BRISTOL, R. I. EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief, JOSEPH KELLEY Associate Editor ISRAEL MAKOWSKY Business Manager JAMES SULLIVAN Assistant Business Manager ANNA BRELSFORD Circulation Manager GEORGE STUART Assistant Circulation Manager WILLIAM SERBST Literary Editors OLIVE COGGESHALL KATHLEEN HODGDON VIRGINIA AUGUST EMILY SANFORD Exchange Editor MARGUERITE MURPHY Joke Editor JOHN WALSH Alumni Editor ANNIE COGGESHALL Faculty Advisor, SARA C. CALLAN COPIES 15 CENTS EACH . To all the subscribers of the Green White the Editor and Staff wish to express their thanks and appreciation. The Green and White is published once a year by the students of the Colt Memorial High School and this is but its third appearance. However, we sincerely hope that in the future it may be found possible to publish it more often and we feel confidence that it will improve with each issue. If only the pupils will visit more often the little brown box beneath the bulletin board on the cover of which there is printed the following words “Please leave your contributions for the Green White here,” and if they will show more co-operation in their efforts to improve their school paper, we are sure that they will meet with success. CO-OPERATION We wish, at this time to say a few words in regard to co-operation. By co-operation we mean the act of working jointly together. Co-operation is absolutely necessary to the success of anything where more than one is concerned. This is apparent from the government of our great nation down to the government of our school. If all the great statesmen of our country did not co-operate in their efforts to aid and better the government, what would our country be? What is the key to the government of these United States? Co-operation. So also is co-operation the keynote to the successful government of our school. If only each and every pupil will cooperate with his or her respective teachers, 4 THE GREEN AND WHITE and if each and every member of his or her class will co-operate with the other members, the class as a whole will be enabled to co-operate with the principal and thus the relations between the teacher and the individual pupil, and the relations between the classes and the principal will be most pleasant and much more will be accomplished. DEMOCRACY IN THE C. M. H. S. At this time when all the nations of the earth are struggling to recover from the effects of the war, a war the like of which the world has never witnessed, democracy is the greatest factor. Democracy defined is “A government by the people collectively, by elected Representatives.” Autocracy has failed and after a terrible war, in which all the nations of the earth have fought valiantly, democracy has been triumphant. In every sphere of life we find the essence of democracy. Right here in our school it dominates. The very air is imbued with it. There are no exclusive societies and each and every individual, regardless of race, color or creed, is entitled to the same privileges. Here we learn to love and cherish true democracy and there is no greater evidence of this than the fact that about one hundred young men from tms school responded to the country’s call and were willing to suffer everything, even the supreme sacrifice, that democracy might prevail. THE HOLE IN THE HAYSTACK One day last summer, I was walking past a haystack when from a hole beneath it came a terrible noise—rumbles, mutters and rattles. I jumped and looked in the hole, and there I saw two horrible green eyes and a most distorted countenance, black and awful. My! but 'I ran and hopped and jumped and scooted to the house. I told the family about it and none of them dared to go out to investigate—my father being away at the time—so we had to borrow hay from a neighbor for the cow, and we spent much time walking away around the haystack to get things the other side of it. For about a week we kept this up, and on Friday all the family went away and left me alone in the house. By and by there came a knock at the door. I looked out of the window and saw a plump, pompous little man standing before the door. I thought it would be safe to open it and I did so. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Mr. Smith,” (my father) “told me to come here this afternoon to look at the hens, and I’m to take two for the luncheon at the club tomorrow.” “Yes?” said I—I knew my father belonged to some sort of a club—“where did you meet Mr. Smith?” “At the Warren station, last night,” he said. “Oh, yes, I see,” I said, and so I did. My father at that moment was, most positively, on a train traveling from Chicago to Detroit, and that was quite a few miles from Warren. THE GREEN AND WHITE 5 Mr. He was evidently “shacking” hens, and what could I do? I stood and smiled at him, not thinking what I was doing, my mind was so busy trying to think of a way to keep those three hens. I think I flustered him a little, for after a minute he snapped out “Well!” “We’ll go down this way,” I said, going down the steps and closing the door behind me. I led him down a path, talking about Mr. Smith who was traveling in the West. He got quite nervous and red. and by this time I had led him right to that haystack. I was walking quietly past when I suddenly stood and gazed in the hole. “Oh, look!” I shrieked, pointing at the hole. Mr. He looked and saw what I had seen—two yellow green eyes, a horrible black face, open red mouth and sharp white teeth; moreover, he had heard that terrible noise—rattle, clank, rumble, growl. Mr. He turned and ran—plainly turned and ran—while I stood and watched him. Down the path, through the gate and down the road he bounced, like a great rubber ball. Then I turned back to the haystack frmo whence emerged our big black cat “Tummus,” yawning and licking his whiskers, his foot caught in a big iron chain! EMILY SANFORD, ’21. HE WHO WAITS Who was “He Who Waits?” No one knew. When did he come? No one knew. Where did he come from, and how did he come? No one knew. He was just there waiting and watching, waiting for someone or no One, some time or no time; and watching “Old Troublesome, watching all the rises and falls of the water, perhaps Waiting for it to bring back those it had Swept away, his wife, his mother, his daughters and sons, perhaps hoping it would snatch him in, also; yet perhaps hoping it woudn’t. His only companion was a dog, a greyhound, and as he and his dog sat on the banks of “Old Troublesome,” he could hear the merry laughter and voices of the happy valley people. He could sit silent for hours, listening. One evening as he sat there, strains of music echoed up to him, but he was not listening to that, for away around the mountain he could hear the roar of falling . water, the crash of ’-ocks and uprooted trees. All of a sudden, it became much louder. He jumped to his feet. Would he still be silent and let the gay valley people be Swept away by the torrent? Or would he warn them that “Old Troublesome” was rising He ran to his hut, wrote on a scrap of paper, “Troublesome’s up,” tied it to the collar of his dog and sent him swiftly down the mountain. And the roar grew louder. He listened. The music stopped. He listened. Then he heard the hum of a motor, and a little roadster shot out onto the plain, loaded with people and baggage. A second started out. a third, and soon there were dozens, fleeing from the horror of the torrent, out onto the safe plain where there was no “Old Troublesome.” And he who stayed behind still waited and watched. EMILY SANFORD. ’21. THE SHERIFF’S REWARD It was a cold stormy night in January. The thermometer registered a few degrees below zero and the snow was falling thick and fast. Sheriff-elect, Hiram Jones, lay back in his office chair, a big black cigar between his thick lips and his hat tipped at a dangerous angle on his semi-bald head. Hiram had recently been elected Sheriff of the distinguished town of Clayville, an office which he was sure he was qualified to hold. The salary of the office had been increased on account of the H. C. L., but besides this the town w.as going to have real protection now that Hiram Jones, Esq., was Sheriff. Hiram was in a pensive mood. He was proud of his qualifications for the office but since he had begun his duties things had been very quiet about town, unusually quiet, and he was aching for an opportunity to show his courage and skill. He was startled by a sudden knock at the door and upon opening it he was confronted by a tall, robust young man of about thirty, who asked him if he was the Sheriff. At Hiram’s nod in the affirmative he entered, after shaking the snow from his clothing, and drew up a chair by the Sheriff. “Well, since you are Clayville’s guardian of the peace, you are the one with whom I have business. I am from the Detective Agency and I am here on very important business. An attempt to rob the bank is to be made tonight and I have reasons to believe that the person planning the affair is one of the worst criminals in the country and there is a great reward offered for his arrest. I cannot succeed without your assistance and if you will help me I will generously recompense you.” Hiram was in an ecstasy of delight. This was a prime opportunity to display his courage and daring, besides think of the great amount of money he would receive. Several hours later when all Clayville was asleep the Sheriff and the stranger made their way to the bank. The Sheriff 6 THE GREEN AND WHITE shook the dozing watchman and explained the situation to him. The word of Hiram Jones was weighty in Clayville and the watchman admitted the two men to the bank and returned to his post. Soon after, when that gentleman’s loud snores were heard, the stranger slipped over to his side and opening a small vial he saturated a cloth with its contents and applied it to the nostrils of the sleeper. This strange action at once aroused the Sheriff’s suspicion but the stranger at once calmed him by saying that in the fight that was sure to follow, the watchman might mistake them for the robbers and shoot them. “Ain’t it most time for them pesky robbers to show up? inquired the Sheriff of his companion. “Oh, they will be here any time now. Look out of that window and see if everything is all right.” Just as he turned his back he felt a terrific blow on the head. There were many stars around him, and then total darkness. Ages later he awoke as if from a bad dream. Little by little his mind cleared and suddenly the truth dawned upon him. He hastily scrambled to his feet and made his way to the vault. It was empty except for a note addressed to the Sheriff of Clayville. It read: “Dear Mr. Sheriff: All that I got was about twenty-five thousand dollars; that’s the worst of these little country banks. However it’s better than nothing. I am leaving the reward for your invaluable assistance in the form of advice. In the future do not place too much trust in complete strangers.” Hiram Jones, Esq., read the letter through again and then forgetful of the dignity of his office, forgetful of everything else, he snatched the highly polished new badge from his vest, and stamping on it in a frenzy, he swore long and loudlv. J. C. K. ’20 A DAY WITH “TOMMY, THE LITTLE BUCKAROO,” OF THE AF RANCH “Oh, Tommy! Are you awake? As these words penetrate my sub-consciousness I try to figure out who I am and where. Can it be I am in my home in Bristol with the prospect of nothing more exciting than the routine of the day’s housework before me? Or am I am in Pasadena, the mecca of all tourists, with the interesting day of a winter visitor in Southern California ahead of me? Slowly I open my eyes. Above me the stars are faintly shining while the first faint streaks of dawn outline the distant snow-capped mountains. The faraway howling of coyotes, a pheasant calling to its mate, the soft mooing of cattle, the exultant bark of a dog proclaiming a rabbit cornered in some tree stump, the impatient whinnying of a horse, are the sounds borne to my ears, while what is even more insistent is the voice of “the Boss. “Oh you Buckaroo 1 Are you going to round up the cattle this morning? ’Zona is saddled and waiting.” With a bound I am out of bed and racing toward the house. Dashing cold water on eyes only half open, a few moments spent in brushing hair and teeth, hastily donning khaki riding breeches, middy, etc., not to forget a surreptitious trip, in true boy fashion, to the cookie jar and I am ready for the day’s adventures. Fully awake now I realize who I am and where I am. Five months before I had arrived in southern California to spend the winter. I had been there barely a week when meeting a girlhood friend (our friendship dated back to Bristol before I was of school age) this in substance was what she said to me, “My husband, little boy and I start in two days for our ranch 200 miles north of here. We are going to make the trip in our Dodge and if you really want a taste of ranch life be ready to go with us at that time.” Hasty planning, rapid packing, hurried farewells and cancelling of social engagements filled the next two days. Then presto! The identity of Miss Thomas of conservative New England was lost in what it had pleased the ranchmen to nickname me, “Tommy, the Little Buckaroo of the AF Ranch.” You too are wondering just as I wondered, what a “buckaroo” is. As near as I can make out it is the cowboys’ pro-nounciation of the Spanish word “vaquero” meaning horseman or cattleman. Some pronounce it as though it is spelled “buck’-care-row,” while others use the more familiar “buck’-a-ruc” (buckaroo.) But ’Zona is impatient to be off. My foot barely touches the stirrup before she is galloping away with Towser the dog, following closely at her heels. As the crisp morning air sends the blood tingling to my cheeks and the beauty of God’s country unfolds all around me, I am glad for the wonderful joy of life. We soon sight the cattle and with a command to Towser to “Heelop! Heeloh!’’ and the cattleman’s cry (which I adopted) of “Huddy! Huddy!” we dash ahead and turn the leaders, wheel suddenly after a creature that is dodging to one side and finally succeed in sending the whole herd galloping toward the corrals. Ah, that is the best sport ever! During the milking I busy myself with feeding and watering some of the stock— first Patricia and Arizona (the saddle horses) then Maud and Jennie (the THE GREEN AND WHITE 7 mules). Atitone (the bull) comes next. Impatiently pawing the ground with one foot, he lowers his massive head and greets me with deep guttural sounds which a few months before had sent cold shivers racing up and down my spine. This morning the difficult but interesting task awaits me of teaching Mayzie and Baby Boone (two-day-old calves) to drink milk from a bucket. Straddling the neck of Mayzie I firmly hold her head down in the bucket. Moistening my fingers with milk, I put them in her mouth and she sucks the milk greedily from them. After a few minutes I cautiously remove my fingers, but my little pupil, intent only on getting the milk, does not miss their removal and keeps on drinking from the bucket as though she had always been accustomed to partaking of her breakfast in that manner. But teaching Baby Boone is different. Three times he knocks me over, deluging me with milk. Finally I give up in despair, deciding that by the next feeding he will be more hungry and so in a more teachable frame of mind. Meanwhile Pat, the ranch hand is trying to catch some pigs that have gotten out of the pen. I hurry to his assistance and in the exciting chase which follows I get an ugly scratch from the barbed wire on my left cheek (I still carry the scar) and a pip in playful (?) mood bites my elbow. ‘Shure,” says Pat, “he knows a swate thing when the sees it.” The cows milked, the separating done, the stock fed, we are called to breakfast after which I report to “the Boss” for “orders for the day.” “This will be your last day for a while to herd the cattle away from the ranch.” (I had been herding every day for Over two weeks.) The green feed on the ranch is better now besides the spring ploughing must be done right away so tomorrow I will initiate you into the mysteries of driving the tractor. Take your lunch with you today as usual but be sure and have the cows corralled by four sharp. Business will keep me away from the ranch all day but I trust you to see that everything goes O. K. in my absence.” It is true that “more haste, less speed.” Hurrying to the corrals, ’Zona’s right hind leg becomes tangled in a piece of heavy wire throwing her violently to the ground and tossing me over her head where I land on the ground but like a good C. A. T. should, i. e., on my feet. I am unhurt but ’Zona has a bad cut on her leg which puts her out of commission for a few days and necessitates my using Patricia. Rendering first aid to ’Zona, catching Patricia and changing the saddles, takes a good half hour but at last I have the cattle con-tently grazing. Suddenly Determination jumps the fence into a near-by prune orchard. This is the signal for a lively chase. By the time I succeed in getting her out of the orchard the rest of the cattle have wandered off. I round them up and take an inventory. Yes, there is Dynamite, Old Lady 31, Twoll, Red Wing, Black Beauty, Lady Boone, Juanita, Kiss Me, Mrs. Ox. High Life, Porpoise, Ginger Snap, Kitty-Cow, Mully, Mrs. Jack, Roman Nose, and so on down the entire list. All are here—but no—not all, for White Face is missing. And where is White Face? I scour the entire country but there is no trace of her. All day long, between the herding of the other cattle, I continue my search. At noon sitting dejectedly in the saddle, I am too discouraged to eat more than a few mouthfuls. “The Boss” had trusted me to look out for things in his absence and I had violated that trust by losing one of his most valued cows. Three o’clock comes and I turn the cattle homeward, I corral the cows and return to the search. This time I decide to veritably fine tooth comb the River Bottom. It being a California River no water runs there except after a heavy rain or when the snows in the mountains melt. I know if White Face is in the River Bottom I must find her before night for already the snow on the mountains is melting and the river is liable to rise any minute. I shudder to think what might happen if she is caught unawares before the onrush of the water. Back and forth, back and forth I ride. Discovering an island we scramble up on it. Dodging and ducking to avoid being scratched by the heavy growth of trees and bushes I guide my faithful horse into the very center and—Tight before us in a little clearing, stands—White Face. Lying at her feet, weak with the struggle attendant upon its advent into a new and strange world, is an exact replica of White Face. Never shall I forget the relief T experienced at beholding the object of my search. Almost falling off my horse in my excitement, I throw my arms around White Face. “Mother Cow, you don’t know how glad I am to see you.” Turning to the calf I help it to rise on its wobbly, untried legs and sometimes half carrying, sometimes pushing it, with its mother in the lead and Patricia bringing up an interesting rear, we wind our way to the ranch a mile away. “The Boss” returns and the routine of the late afternoon begins—milking, (this time I surprise him and myself as well by milking five cows—three had been my limit heretofore) separating of the milk, feeding and watering of the stock, our own supper, and then--- One by one the stars come out, the moon rises and sheds its soft light over the ranch. The distant howling of coyotes, a bird chirping a belated love call to its mate, the contented mooing of cattle, the THE GREEN AND WHITE 8 rustling of twigs, and leaves as cotton tails and Jack rabbits scuttle in the underbrush, the whinnying of a horse, even the rushing of water which proclaims the river had at last risen, falls upon deaf ears for with a body healthily tired out and a mind at peace “Tommy, the Little Buckaroo,” sleeps. CARRIE A. THOMAS, ’C6. THE FAMILY PRIDE “Giddap,” called Bobby to about a dozen sheep that were being driven down through the chute to the shearing house. It was in the middle of June and Bobby felt that the sheep must be uncomfortably warm, and, for that reason he was hastening them to have their coats taken off. Bobby was only five years old, and naturally he grew tired in a very short time, so after hurrying for awhile he began to walk at a slower pace. “That’s a good boy, do not go too fast, Bobby,” said his father who was almost up to him now, and as he drew nearer, he stroked the little boy’s forehead, and lifted his soft yellow curls from his warm neck. Bobby was Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s only child, and they loved him dearly; even their neighbors admitted that he possessed the most luxurious curls they had ever seen. Don’t hurry so, I know these curls make you very warm, but your daddy could never imagine his little boy without them. By and by. I suppose I will have to, but not yet awhile anyway, I hope.” On saying this, he clasped Bobby’s hand in his and they walked very slowly. Bobby, of course, did not heed his fond father, in fact, he seldom did unless his special attention was called. Presently they reached their destination and herded the sheep into the corral, when Mr. Parker discovered that his hired men were absent. Turning to Bobby he said: “Now son, you stay here until I return, watch the sheep and I will find the men, then we shall go to lunch.” Bobby obeyed and stood watching his father hurry up the trail which, they, a few moments before had traveled. When his father was out of sight, Bobby turned to his favorite sheep and exclaimed, as he stroked his soft curly wool: “Going to have it all taken off, arn’t you?” As he gazed around the room he spied a pair of shears and picking them up he be-ban to clip the curly ends of the sheep’s wool. The animal objected, and in rebellion turned quickly to Bobby and threatened to chase him. Bobby screamed in terror. Dropping the shears he backed away, tears already filling his blue eyes. The animal, on finding that he was victorious, went on about his business, which was to secure everything eatable in sight. In another moment all was forgotten and Bobby stopped to pick up the shears once again. While doing so his own yellow curls surrounded his pink-tinted face. This reminded him of something and standing up he drew his hair close to the sheen’s wool. “My! They are almost like yours, only yours are white. Daddy cuts yours, I wonder why he don’t cut mine. Perhaps he forgot, so I guess I had better do it for him,” he muttered. Thus saying he picked up the shears and one by one he clipped them and when his father came back Bobby’s much admired and beloved curls, lay in a heap on the floor. MAY TUCY, ’21. WHAT I SAW THRU A KNOT-HOLE One day I wandered into the woods, and being very tired I lay down under a tree. Suddently I started, for there in front of me was a high wooden fence, which I had not seen before. Jumping up I ran around it looking for a place thru which to see what was inside. Soon I found a knothole, and looking thru I saw what seemed to be a city of pigmy folk. It appeared to be a holiday for the houses and streets were decorated with what I took to be the national flag. It was in the shape of an octagon, with purple back ground, red stars in every corner, and a lavende moon in the center. The streets were crowded with small people, who walked up and down, eating purple ice cream with red and lavender lumps in it. There were also candy booths selling the patriotic colored candy, and children, clothed in the patriotic colors, were eating it. Soon I heard what I supposed to be an opening crash from the band, and over in one corner of the city a procession began to move toward the center, where there was a platform raised. The noisy band with its fantastic music marched to the platform, where a fat individual parted himself from the crowd, and clambered onto the stage. He then proceeded to deliver an address in a squeeky voice which shrilled loudly on some words. He swayed and gesticulated so hard, that he nearly lost his balance. He looked so funny, that I forgot, and laughed out loud. At this there was a great commotion, and the more excited they grew, the more I laughed, for these tiny people looked very funny, screaming and dashing about, hurrying to gather their children together and scampering into their houses. Then with one impulse they all flew up into the trees about, screaming and calling THE GREEN AND WHITE 9 hoarsely all the time, and all their horrid patriotic colors began to form into a cloud and envelop me. I could see nothing, and when I tried to fight my way thru it, my arms encountered hard things which would not move. I screamed, I awoke and found myself thrashing my arms wildly on the ground, with the sun in my eyes, and a flock of crows cawing and fluttering in the trees above me. SELFISH BILLY Billy Smith lived with his parents and two sisters. As he didn’t have any brothers, he was inclined to be very selfish. Never would he share anything with pirls, they alvvays took too much, according to his opinion. To tell the truth his sisters spoiled him. How they petted him because he was the only boy! Would he ever share any of his “goodies” with them? Never! “Anyway,” he would say, I’m the youngest, and the only boy, so they ought to give me everything.” His mother regretted this selfishness, but all her efforts to cure it were in vain. One day Mrs. Smith, his mother, made some fudge and butterscotch. Billy was very fond of all kinds of candy, and when his mother gave him several pieces, he ran out into the barn and climbed up in the hay loft where nobody would see him. He ate a great deal of the fudge and was going to start on the butterscotch when someone called, “Billy, Billy!” “Its my sister May,” said Billy. “1 suppose Mother told her about all the candy I had, so she wants some, but she can’t have it,” and he kept as quiet as a mouse. His sister called many times but receiving no answer went away. When the calling ceased, Billy gave a sigh of relief. Now he could eat his candy without anyone’s disturbing him. About supper time he crawled down from the loft and made his way to the house. As he was going across the lawn, his sister May came running ur to him. “Oh Billy!” she cried, “Where have you been? We hunted all Over the place for you and 1 called and called, but you couldn’t be found. Jack Dawson’s mother gave a party, over on their lawn. We had a lovely time, ice cream, cake, and all kinds of candy. Mother sent over some fudge and butterscotch that she made and oh, it was such a lovely party. Its Jack’s birthday you know, and his father has some tickets for the theatre tonight. I’m sorry you weren’t around for now there won’t be any ticket for you.” Billy hung his head for he was ashamed. How he loved ice cream! And what little boy doesn’t like candy? How he re- gretted his own selfish, little party in the hay loft! Now he must miss the wonderful theatre party with the other boys and girls. That night after the other young people had left, Billy cried to his mother and told her why he couldn’t be found and promised he never would be selfish again, for he had learned a lesson he would never forget. LOUISE MURPHY, ’22. A LITTLE COMPOSER In a lonely, dingy room in one( of the poorest streets of London sat Pierre, a fatherless French boy. He was sitting by the bedside of his sick mother, trying to keep up his spirits, although he had nothing to eat that day, and no food whatever in the pantry. At times he thought of his loneliness and hunger and he could hardly keep the tears from his eyes, for he knew nothing would taste so good to his invalid mother as some fruit, but the had not a penny in the house. The many days which he spent with his mother were not idle ones, for he had comnosed a little song with air and Words. One dav while he was out for a walk, he noticed a large poster which announced that Madame Lefebre would sing that night in public. Pierre wished that he might go, and Inter when he reached home he took a piece of paper and pencil and hastily copied his song. He glanced at his mother and as she was asleep he hu-riedly ran to the theatre where Madame Lefebre was to sing. Arriving there, Pierre told Madame Lefebre of his mother’s sickness, and of their poverty, and thought if she would sinrr his little song that probably some publisher would buy it for a small sum, which would enable him to help his mother get well. Madame Lefebre gave Pierre a ticket that he might attend the concert, and to do so' he asked a kind neighbor to come in and care for his mother. When it was almost time for the concert to begin Pierre ran Out of the house happier than he had ever been, and as he entered the hall, he never dreamed that he would ever be in such a grand place. At last Madame Lefebre came out and breathless he waited. Could it be that she was really singing his little song? He listened carefully. Yes, it was his song, and turning around he noticed many a bright eye dimmed with tears by the touching words. After the concert he left, feeling as if he were the only one in the world. 10 THE GREEN AND WHITE The next day a man came to call on him, and told Pierre that his little song had made him a fortune. Pierre, stunned as he was, could not say a word or thank the man, but fell to his knees and uttered a little prayer for Madame Lefebre who had now made his life worth living. Pierre, who was once a poor boy, is now a rich and accomplished composer, and his mother has gained her health and is on the road to recovery. THE PHANTOM CYCLIST It was the year 1900. May 23 of this year the town, or rather “hamlet” of Brookesville was asleep when thru the main street an auto sped making a terrible racket and waking up the town constable, who immediately turned over in his comfortable bed. The next morning Hiram Jackson, a farmer, came down Turnpike Road and saw lying there a body and a bicycle, which was smashed beyond recognition. The body was that of Ernest Wells, a farmhand, and a man who during life never forgot a wrong and took revenge whenever he could. It is the year 1920. May 23 of this year the town, or rather “hamlet” of Brookes- On a bright September morning in the year 1916, forty timid girls and boys entered the portals of the wonderful Colt Memorial High School to take there their places among the ranks of students. These pupils, afteT being interviewed by Mr. Lee, were assigned to the care of Miss Callan and were soon initiated into the life and work Of High School pupils. Our life, as Freshmen, was very quiet; we were not even organized as a class. Each time a class meeting was scheduled the principal, for some reason or other, would not attend the meeting and so the year passed. The next year we came back as Sophomores and our ranks were increased by the so-called “sub-freshmen” who had entered High School the preceding February. Our life that year was most uneventful— in spite of the sleigh ride. However, we did succeed in organizing and elected as our President, Joseph Kelley; Vice President, Fred Serbst; Secretary, Mar- ville is asleep—but not quite—for the innkeeper of the “Golden Gate” is about to lock up for the night. An auto speeds down and stops. A voice calls. “Hey there, innkeeper! Wait a minute!” The autoist jumps out and enters the inn and seating himself inquires the way to the next village. “Well sir,” said the innkeeper, “I can direct you to the village but I would advise you to wait till morning.” “Why?” querried the autoist. “Just this, sir!” replied the innkeeper, “Twenty years ago today Ernest Wells was killed on Turnpike Road. On May 23rd every year a cyclist appears on the road and chases after automobiles until it gets side of the driver. It is said that if the murderer of Ernest Wells rides down that road he will be found dead next morning. Wells is going to avenge himself.” “Huh! I don’t car for any phantoms. I’ve got to go down that road.” Saying this the autoist started out and drove towards and down Turnpike Road. His engine stalled-in that darkest part. What was that on the road! A cyclist! The next morning the innkeeper sees an auto on Turnpike Road. He hurries down and finds his guest of the night before, dead. H. YOUNG, ’20. guerite Murphy; Treasurer, Fred Palmer; Historian, Julia DeFelice. The Executive Committee was composed of Olive Cogge-shall. Jack Walsh and Elmer Matheson. We were not allowed to have any social functions; our life would have been rather monotonous if it were not for the active members of the class who amused us but annoyed the teachers. The Principal, Mr. Lee, resigned in May and Mr. Hobbs, now Superintendent of Schools, was made Principal. The year was soon over and vacation time came once more. In the fall we returned as Juniors. How proud we were! That year we “graduated” to the second floor and felt that we owned the school. Mr. Hobbs, then Principal, tried to make life pleasant for all. The first momentous occasion of our school life occurred this year, namely, our first dance! How we looked forward to that dance! Each girl planned, weeks in advance, the new “gown” she would have, THE GREEN AND WHITE 11 and the pleasure we had Teally fulfilled our expectations. The dance was most successful. In June, we introduced the “Junior Promenade.” This was a dance given in honor of the Seniors. The girls and boys in charge worked very hard and the affair was charming. The large auditorium was wonderfully decorated with colored paper streamers, suspended from all corners of the hall. The daisies! The girls who gathered them will never forget them, but they made such a picturesque scene on the stage that they were well worth the trouble. Everyone at that dance enjoyed it and it was with regret that the “Good Xieht Waltz” was played. The next year we returned to the dear old school as dignified Seniors. How dignified? Well, we will let the teachers answer that question. The officers of the class for the year were elected as follows: President, Joseph Kelley; Vice President, George Stuart; Secretary, Dorothy Kenney; Treasurer, Annie Dunbar; Historian, Julia DeFelice; Executive Committee, Chairman, James Sullivan; Marguerite Murphy, Vasta La Rocco. What wonderful dances and entertainments we were going to have during our Senior year! Alas, our expectations were not fulfilled because early in September we were informed that we could have only four entertainments during the entire year, for example, one each quarter. It is needless to say that we were disappointed but then we decided to “smile” and make the best of it. During the first quarter, the class held a dance which was most successful, but our next social function which was to be another dance, was postponed by the Committee on account of the terrible snow storm. But the most beautiful event of the month of May was the Food Sale. The members of the Class worked very hard to make this affair a success. A great deal of credit is due to our Class Advisor, Miss Sara C. Callan, in organizing two teams to compete with each other in order to arouse more interest among the pupils. A musical program and the School Orchestra, under the direction of Miss Theresa Sullivan, also added to make the affair very enjoyable. Later in the evening different articles were auctioned off, Joseph Kelley presiding as chief auctioneer and Harry Young as assistant. In all, this Food Sale was the most pleasant and successful form of entertainment that the Class of 1920 has ever held. Of course all our time was not taken up with socials, we did our share of work, too. The Commercial pupils were kept busy not only by the regular school work, but office work at Mr. Hobbs’ office. The Classical, pupils all found algebra their greatest difficulty and the usual salutations of the members of the class were, “Have you done your algebra?” “How many have you done?” In spite of it all, they were very happy. Now, the year is practically over and we have come to the parting of the ways; some of the pupils will continue their education in higher institutions of learning, while others will take their place in the world, as business men and women. May we all always prove efficient and worthy of all lessons taught us. in order to bring honor and esteem to the dear old school .in which we have always revelled with happiness, although at times we have proven unworthy; and may we always have the love and esteem for each other in the years to come as we have had during the four years of high school. JULIA DeFELICE. OUR MOVIES Picture—Marion Paul with lessons all prepared. Kathleen Hodgdon with a know-it-all air. “Red” Clowes keeping quiet for one hour. Virginia August trying to look sour. Harry Young with his algebra all done. Frank Newton making a home-run. Annie Andrade calling people names. The Base Ball team winning just three games. Virginia Drury arriving at school on time. Milton Paine saying “Darling wilt thou be mine?” Howard Grinnell never chewing gum. Olive Coggeshall trying to have some fun. Joe Kelley never trying to bluff. A Senior meeting without a terrible fuss. Yarlasavetski never using ain’t. Charlotte Smith trying to look ouaint. Wennerstrand growing a foot a night. Palmer looking an awfful fright. Mildred Erikson trying to look sad. Luciano Capone never getting mad. Dot Kenney ever missing a dance. Jackie Walsh in long pants. Catherine Sparks never whispering to the boys. Marguerite Mimphy making a great deal of noise. 12 THE GREEN AND WHITE A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W Y Eliza Usher acting like a sinner. Malafronte going without his dinner. The Faculty acting cheerful and gay. The Freshmen with nothing to say. The Sophs working faithfully each day. The Juniors ever heeding the hell. The Seniors about to say farewell. CLASS ALPHA 1920 is for Annie, a shy little maid, is for Bolster, of fate not afraid, is for Catherine, of gossip quite f Nid, is for “Dot,” our promising blond, is for Elmer, in Athletics renowned, is for “Fritz,” in mind he’s quite sound, is for Gray, tickles worries you know, is for “Hilly,” some chap, not so slow, must be “me,” there’s no “I” present, is for Julia, so bright and so pleasant, is for Kelley, Joe. understand! is for LeClair, so tall and so grand, is for Murphy, “Ted” lights the class, is our “Number Please” girl, pretty lass here is Olive, quiet, but deep, for Palmer, who talks in his sleep, is iust no one. we'll just leave it out, is for“Sullie”whom dancing makes stout is for Thiele who gets her seats mixed, is “Us” with Our treasury unfixed, is for Vasta whose boat is well “manned” for Walsh, our class baby grand, here I’m nuzzled, I can’t tell a lie. So now I’ll bid our class Alpha good-bye. JESSIE MOLASKY, ’20 WHAT C. M. H. S. MEANS C—stands for Coggeshall, a girl who is full of “pep.” M—stands for Mary, our only suffragette. H—stands for Harry, a boy who is full of life. S—stands for Sully, the fellow that wants a wife. —Palmer DeWolf. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. THE SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD (As seen by a Freshman) Stuart’s .... Palmer’s ____ A. Dunbar’s . Walsh’s ..... Kelley's _____ Yarlasvesky’s Murphy’s ... .. Walk Singing Weight . Height Orations .. Name ... Hair W. WENNERSTRAND, ’21. ATHLETICS It is to be regretted that the pupils of the school have not been more enthusiastic about their school sports. During the winter season basket ball was entirely for 'rotten. This soring the girls of the school aided base ball not only by attending the games but by selling schedules to help support the team which is made uo as follows: Stuart, lb.: Sullivan. If.: Newton. 2b.; F. Rinaldi. 3b.: F. Serbst. pitcher; Bruno, ss.; C. Rinaldi, cf.; W. Rinaldi, catcher; W. Serbst, rf. The following games were arranged: May 5—Sacred Heart at Central Falls. May 12—Central Falls at Saylesville. May 14—New Bedford Vocational School at Bristol. June 2—New Bedford Vocational School at New Bedford. Julie 4—Central Falls at Bristol. June 8—Rogers High at Bristol. June 11—Cumberland High at Cumberland. June 22—High School Alumni. We sincerely hope that the pupils will show more enthusiasm next year, especially the girls who have not made use of the basket ball courts which the town so kindly built for them. MARY HADDA Mary had a little cold. The cold was in her head And when the doctor saw her, He ordered her to bed. Mary had a little goat, A goat all Black and White, It fell into the lake one day, And surely was a sight. Mary had a little Ford, The Ford sure made her cuss, She put the sign “Five cents” on the side And called it a Jitney Bus. Mary had a piece of Beef. The beef was surely nice, But she couldn’t get another piece, Because of the high price. Mary had a little tree, She planted it one day, But if the tree did bloom or not I really couldn’t say. W. WENNERSTRAND. ’21. THE GREEN AND WHITE 13 During the present school year a number of exchanges have been received, but only one offered a criticism of last year’s Green White. We do not know whether the schools which received our paper did not consider it worthy of comment, or whether the issue of the paper which contained the criticism did not reach us. However, we sincerely hope the latter reason was the real one and that our paper was welcome. The following exchanges were received: The X-Ray—Sacramento, Cal. The Blue and Gold—Cleveland, O. The Artisan—Bridgeport, Conn. The Polytechnic—Troy, N. Y. The Argonaut—Mansfield, Mass. The Early Trainer—Lawrence, Mass. The Magpie—Waterbury. Conn. The Reflector—Cleveland. O. The Mirror—Palmerton, Pa. The White and Gold—Woodbury, N. J. The Tattler—El Paso, Texas. The Bulletin—Stenbenville, Ohio The Gleaner—Pawtucket, R. I. The Shield—Haddonfield. N. J. The Boston University Beacon—Boston. The Maroon and White—Providence The Delphian—Providence, R. I. THEIR OPINION Your cuts are clever. Please send us your next issue.—Argonaut. OUR OPINION Mirror: Why not have a table of contents and enlarge the Exchange Department? Would it not be well to have the jokes in a separate section? White and Gold: Welcome; one of our best exchanges. Tattler: Another table of contents missing. Your Literary Department could be enlarged greatly. Bulletin: Where is your Exchange Department ? Gleaner: Another Exchange most welcome to us and one which we would like to have criticise our paper. Shield: A model paper if the Editorials were at the beginning. B. U. Beacon: A “different” paper. Why not have a few new departments, such as Exchange and Joke? But, perhaps you don’t desire these. Maroon and White:. Is your Joke Department getting smaller for want of material? We miss the Scientific Department in the isstie received by us. Has it been removed? Delphian: A Joke Department and a few cuts would enliven your magazine. We are pleased to note that your Exchanges are increasing. Reflector: Your Personals would appear to more advantage if the advertisements were not scattered thru them. Magpie: Appropriately named and an excellent publication. Come again. Early Trainer: Your editorials are good. Why not have original stories? Argonant: We hope wou will continue to send us your first class paper. Artisan: Although the Artisan is pub- lished by a Trade School, surely a few original stories and jokes could be obtained. They would make your paper much more interesting to outsiders. Blue and Gold—Why not have your paper in magazine form for you surely have enough material? Polytechnic: Where is your Exchange Department? Your Editorials are good. X-Ray: “Schools in Brief” is fine. An enlarged Literary Department would make your paper O. K. M. E. MURPHY. S. S. Teacher—“Now, boys who can tell me who the apostles were?” Wide-awake Willie—“I can. They were the wives of the epistles.” California Wampus. “Give for one year, the number of tons of coal shipped out of the United States.” “1492—None.” —Widow. “What is the difference between ammonia and pneumonia?” “One comes in bottles, the other in chests.”—Yale Record. 14 THE GREEN AND WHITE Miss Blake (to F. Francis standing on window seat.) “What would happen if you fell?’ F. Francis—“Why the person who owned this window would be out of luck.” Miss Blake—“Yes, but what would you be out?” F. Francis—“Why, I would be out of doors.” Wise Junior—-“Miss Blake, you wouldn't give a boy a slip for something he hadn’t done, would you?” Miss Blake—“Why. certainly not. Wise Junior—“Well, I haven’t done my book-keeping.” Mr. Strong (Economics III)—What are the three words used most frequently in this class? Wise Junior—“I don’t know. Mr. Strong—'“Correct.” Mr. Thornton (Agriculture)—“What are the most economical fowls to keep? Miss Brelsford—“Chickens, because for every grain they give a peck.” Miss Murphy (English)—“I know it, but do not know how to say it.” Sullivan—“Well, whistle it.” Miss Blake (irritably) to pupils standing •around the desk—“Will half of you go to your seats?” Some feat, we’ll say! Miss Blake_ (during spelling)—“Now turn over and write the meanings. Eliza Usher (in French)—“He had one horse under him and the other in his hand.” Sullivan (History)—The Pilgrims went to Holland and got in ‘Dutch.’ ” H. Kinder (French)—“The wall was built of straw bricks. Miss Sisson (Histone)—“Is there any need of a speaker in Congress?” Sullivan—“No, now that the women have the vote,” Palmer (In History class relating the life of Johnson)—“In his early years, he moved to Tennessee and adopted the State.” Miss Sisson (History)—“What is one of the most important dates concerning Alexander’s visit to Egypt?” Walsh—'“The date he had with Cleopatra. Pozzi, L. (French) — “Then,” said Bettina, “I shall marry myself.” Young (French)—“After working steadily for three hours in' the field, he went home and sat on his chest.” WANT ADS. Wanted—A Rattle ........ J. Walsh Wanted—A Day Off ....... F. Serbst Wanted—A Razor .......... A Stuart Wanted—A Valet .... E. Mathewson Wanted—A Smile ........... M. Hill Wanted—A Loving Heart.. T. Murphy Wanted—A Reputation .... J. Kelley Wanted—To Stand In ..... H. Young A young theologian named Fiddle Refused to accept his degree, “For,” he said, “its enough to be Fiddle, Without being Fiddle D. D.” Seen on the board in room 4: Roses are red, violets are blue; Others pay class dues, why don’t you? W. WENNERSTRAND, ’21. A lumn i Miss Marion S. Cole, a graduate of Brown in the Class of 1907, is a teacher of English at the Lincoln School in Providence. Miss Millie D. Church, Brown, 1916, is teaching Mathematics and English in the Junior High School, Pasadena, California. 1903 Oliver J. B. Henderson, Brown University, 1907, is Dean of Moses Brown School, Providence, R. I. Miss Helen N. Bell, a graduate of Brown University, is teaching in the Albany High School. 1904 Frederick J. Pearse, a graduate of the Bliss Electrical School, Washington, D. C., in the Class of 1906, is doing electrical work in Massachusetts. Miss Catherine V. Levere, a graduate of Brown in the Class of 1911, is teaching at Technical High School, Providence, R. I. Miss Jeanette B. Moffitt is teaching at English High School in Providence, R. I. 1908 Miss Josephine G. Tobin, a graduate of R. I. Normal School, is commercial teacher in the Colt Memorial High School. William J. Tobin is a dentist in Bristol. 1910 Miss Mary Reynolds was married on June 7 to Frederick Budlong of Anthony, R. I. Miss Charlotte A. Young, Brown, 1915, is a teacher of Mathematics and English at Technical High School, Providence, R. I. 1905 William A. Wardwell is employed by the United States Rubber Company in Boston. Miss Anna L. M. Hughes is a teacher in Warren, R. I. 1911 Phyllis R. Farrally was married Jan. 1, 1920, to Karl R. Moore of Brooklyn, N. Y. 1912 Since his discharge from the Navy, 16 THE GREEN AND WHITE Albert H. Flint, Jr., has been employed by the firm of Starkweather Shepley, Providence, R. I. Norman Hathaway is the Treasurer of Bryant Stratton, R. I. Commercial College. Providence, R. I. Miss Helen Tiiigley is doing clerical work in Waterbury, Conn. J. Ellery Ingraham is employed by the Providence Institution of Savings in Providence, R, I, Doris J. FaTrally married Albert J. Holmes of South Warren, R. I,, May 7, 1918. 1913 A Ramsey Trotter is working for the New York, New Haven Hartford Railroad Company, in New Haven, Conn. Miss Helen Trotter is a stenographer at the Rhode Island Hospital Trust Company in Providence. 1914 John J. Condon and Franklin H. Springer are students at Rhode Island State College. Miss Marion Sherman graduated from the Nurses’ Training School of Hartford, Conn.. Hospital, on May 28, 1920. F. Reginald Dimond is working for the firm of Davis Davis, in Providence, R. I. Miss Ruth Murray graduated from Rhode Island State College in the Class of 1919. She is now demonstrator of Home Economics for the Newport County Farm Bureau. 1915 Miss Marion Potter was married on June 1st to George Boutelier, agent for Adams’ Express Company in Bristol. Raymond Bliven was the only graduate of the Colt Memorial High School to be killed in action. In the 5th Regiment, 16th Company, U. S. Marines. He was killed at Chateau-Thierry, June 23, 1918. 1917 Herbert A. Geisler is a student at Bryant Stratton, Rhode Island Commercial School. 1918 Charles Hughes has accepted a position in the New York Office Of the United States Rubber Co, Joseph Kinder and George E. Ingraham. Jr. are students at Rhode Island State College. The Misses Edna and Stella Webb are still doing Government work in Washington, D. C. After saving his companion, Charles F. Dimond, Jr., was drowned in the Charles River near Auburndale, Mass., on July 21st, 1919. 1919 James Joseph Walsh, ex-1919, died August 20, 1918. Veronica McGovern, Bertha Farrington, Hezekiah Church, and Harry Molasky are students at Bryant Stratton, R. I. Commercial College. Abner Bailey is a student at Rhode Island State College. Edward Ryan is a student at Providence College. Augustine Nerone is a student at Boston University, Boston, Mass. Anna ( Coggeshall is a student at the Women’s College in Brown University. George Cooke is a student at Dartmouth College. Rose Pozzi is a student at the Rhode Island Normal School. THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS COMPLIMENTS OF MAX MAKOWSKY COMPLIMENTS OF FRED E. SUZMAN Ku. ' $C m. COMPLIMENTS OF CALLAN CONSTRUCTION CO. COMPLIMENTS OF J. H. YOUNG CO. iiiiDmun i i MUDrorn lYOU’LL FIND IT AT WARDWELL LUMBER CO., IF YOU FIND IT IN TOWN. ivmiu 9! LLL LUITiULII bU. BRISTOL, R. I. J. A. JANSON 22 STATE STREET BRISTOL, R. I. Let us make your Graduation Suit Steam Pressing Machine. JOHN THE TAILOR COMPLIMENTS OF HOPE DRUG CO. COMPLIMENTS OF MISS NORA SULLIVAN Gowns COMPLIMENTS OF GEM ICE CREAM PARLOR COMPLIMENTS OF “RED” BROOKS THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS 1 WE SPECIALIZE pvf IN APPROPRIATE GRADUATION AND WEDDING PRESENTS IN A GREAT VARIETY OF PRICES. JEWELER—OPTICIAN Ed.W3.I d D KllIlZ BR,ST0L- R- '• COMPLIMENTS OF COMPLIA1 ENTS OF BUFFINGTON’S PHARMACY HENRY DIO All Kinds of Flowers and COMPLIMENTS OF Potted Plants. DIXON LUBRICATING KINDER BROS. SADDLE CO. COMPLIMENTS OF COMPLIMENTS OF C. H. DILLON HACKETT’S Pastime and Star Theatres LUNCH ROOM COMPLIMENTS OF COMPLIMENTS OF Y. D. FRUIT STORE SAM THE SHOEMAN COMPLIMENTS OF ! COMPLIMENTS OF R. E. M. W. H. G. • COMPLIMENTS OF PALS FIRST K. M. S. Y. J. E. S., Jr., and F. N. P. THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS COMPLIMENTS OF FRANKLIN ST. GARAGE COMPLIMENTS OF CHARLES GORDON Cookies and Candy at A. L. JOHNSTON’S COMPLIMENTS OF CONNERY’S Straw Hats—Correct Styles COMPLIMENTS OF % I H. DARLING NORTHUP BROS. Ice Cream and Lunches COMPLIMENTS OF WHITE TONSORIAL PARLORS State Street RUMPLE PUMPLE DUMPLE COMPLIMENTS OF 1 A. E. MARKOFF b COMPLIMENTS OF HAMILL’S COMPLIMENTS OF F. M. DIMOND COMPLIMENTS OF F. T. REMIERES COMPLIMENTS OF LEONARDI DIGATI COMPLIMENTS OF COMPLIMENTS OF SURPRISE STORE BUTLER SHOE STORE Your Graduation Needs are at this place. Footwear of Quality COMPLIMENTS OF H. KEMPH, JR. COMPLIMENTS OF Dolby’s Ice Cream REED HOUSE Special Orders for all occasions. FURNISHING CO. 631 Hope Street THE GREEN AND WHITE ADVERTISEMENTS