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

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8 THE GREEN AND WHITE romantic way that they would live a life of dreams on the sea of happiness, forever. What a fascinating, extraordinary, supernatural being he was! His charming friend remarked to him that they never could do that unless they followed the flaming sun into the gorgeous West. Dante, wonderful poet, lived in the wrong age. This was the age to live in. Lovers had been misjudged, they should not be, for they are beauties of nature. Oh, all had failed 1 Such harsh, horrible, piercing words, “Come to life, put some action into the last ones! How could such a beautiful creature murmur such horrible, disgusting phrases? I thought that I must save those pupils of the school of romance from falling into the pit of unhappiness. I climbed off of the rock upon which I had been sitting and went over to my proteges and asked them not to quarrel because I Had loved and lost and I wanted them to be successful. “Well, we always have been and will be tonight, if you do not interrupt,” she said to me in the most reprimanding feminine tone. I was astonished and did not understand her meaning. “Women are so queer. I am Mr. Nolton and this is my wife,” her companion exclaimed. “Your wife? Mr. Nolton of the Hills-grove Stock Company that is mentioned in the papers so often?” I hysterically questioned. “Yes, I am the same person and we came down here in our roadster, to read our act before going into town to the Strand Theatre where we are playing tonight. It is now seven o’clock and our act is at eight thirty, so we must be starting. Will you not accompany us, Mr. —er— what is your name—Ah, Mr. Wallace— Wallace the poet! What a coincidence!” he declared. As my friends disappeared around the bend of the road, motoring to town in a modern automobile I sat thinking how I had let my imagination wander. I took a newspaper from my pocket and there it was before me printed in black and white, “The Life of Dreams on the Sea of Happiness,” starring Mr. and Mrs. Nolton, at the Strand Theatre. The best play of the season.” PEGGY NERONE, 23. -----o------ THE STEEL ARMOR The night was stormy and cold. The wind blew, and a great blackness hung down upon the earth as if in time it would crush it altogether. The little town of Carlton was asleep. Not a soul was moving but the night watchman, and a certain old man in a very dismal shop. This old man was covered with dust and dirt from the books that surrounded him. and as he sat there by a very smoky lamp, reading a very greasy book through very cloudy spectacles, he made an extremely forlorn and lonely picture. An old clock on the chimney place was ticking slowly, as if it loathed to add any more hours to its long existence. The hour of twelve was sltruck by the village church clock and the one in the old shop gave a hitch as if it remembered it was to strike also and did accordingly. The owner of the shop looked up as the! twelve unsteady strokes vibrated through the quiet house and his eyes saw something which prevented him from looking back again at the book on his knee. The rusty armor had hung on the shop wall for many years. In fact, when the aged one bought the house he had not taken down the relic of past chivalry, but had felt quite as if a book shop should not be without one. So it was in this that he had hidden his door key and it was the base of this that he called his “wine cellar.” each steel leg containing a bottle of old Port. But when the clock struck twelve and the old man raised his eyes, the suit of armor did not look natural. There was something so life-like about the arms. The visor was raised the least bit, giving a grinning expression. The shield, hanging on its right arm, was up against its breast as if warding off a blow, in short, the whole figure had taken a most terrible aspect. Robert Drew stared and stared until his imagination almost saw the figure move, but as his glance went towards the armed legs and feet, a stream of red came through the cracks in the steel toes and crept slowly along towards him. He sprang up in horror, his face as pale as death, his book fell to the floor, the crash bringing him somewhat to his senses. He grabbed his lamp, and glancing at the door bolts, he went upstairs and locked his bedroom door quicker than he had done for many years. The next morning RobeTt Drew did not want to face the room downstairs, but as he was poor and that was his means of earning his bread and butter, he slowly dressed and descended. The chair in which he had sat the night before was not in its usual place, as shown by the tracks in the dust. His glasses were where they had fallen. These and a dark stain on the floor were the only signs of the fright of the night before. The armor was in its usual place and as the old man opened his shop that morning, he said to himself, “I won’t sit up reading in this room, until twelve o’clock again. That’s one

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 7 get this letter I’ll be on my way to Europe. Again I thank you for your generous sum. I remain as ever, J. T. Brown.” NORMA MATHEWSON, '22 -----o------ “TO A BOOK REPORT” At stated times throughout the year They come to bring us woe; How to escape the book reports, We always long to know. The outlines always treacherous, Grow more so, year by year; That they will soon be fatal We very greatly fear. About a day before the date We to the iibrary flock; And when we glance along the shelves Oh, what a saddening shock; For some very brilliant students Have a month before the day Raided our well filled book shelves And borne the best away. Our eyes in vain, glance up and down, A volume slim to find; The ponderous ones now resting there Do not quite suit our mind. At last in haste a book we choose — But what’s the use of worrying; They say it’s best to smile. So we’ll be glad that Book Reports Are over for a while. RUTH SUZMAN. '22. -----o------ LET THERE BE PEACE It was a summer’s day in Belgium. The people moved around doing their daily occupation. As the cows were driven to pasture, some stopped here and there to get a mouthful of green grass with fresh dew upon it. The owner did not drive them on for he had the summer spirit, too. For that matter, everyone had it. Men and boys whistled at their work. With this spirit their work became play. In the distance there stood a great castle. Very wealthy people lived there. The parents taught their son, Alfred, to always try to maintain peace at any price. There was no need of maintaining peace at this time, for peace reigned over all the world. It seemed as though there could not be a war. Years later, however, there was war between France and Germany, and Belgium was invaded. Alfred, who promised to keep his mother’s plea of “peace at any price” at her deathbed, feared for a war. He fled to America with over a million dollars, and ordered an aeroplane hurriedly made. It was built according to Alfred's instructions, in the shape of an angel with outstretched arms, her hands holding a large sign, reading “Let there be peace,” which was illuminated by electric lights. Meanwhile Germany, who had her soldiers organized, took advantage of the weakness of Belgium, and attempted to pass through the country and on to France, with whom war had been declared. The great war demons in the three countries were now aroused. War was the order of the day. Little Belgium against big Germany, fought with all her strength. Soon Belgium retreated, for the German army outnumbered that of Belgium by twenty to one. As both armies fought viciously, there came from the sky7 an angel, bearing in its hands a sign. “Let there be peace.” The armies dropped their guns, and removing their hats, stood awed in the silence. “An angel sent from God,” they all muttered. “He is tired of war. Let us stop immediately and conciliate with our opponents.” Both armies moved toward each other, still with uncovered heads and without guns, and gave vent to their appreciation by thre lusty cheers as the “Angel of Peace, still hovering in the distance, went out of sight. DANA EISENBERG, ’23. -----o----- A LIFE OF DREAMS ON THE SEA OF HAPPINESS The sun was setting and it shone on the sapphire blue water, transforming parts of it to a blazing shade of red. All was peaceful along the ocean road except for the lonely sound of the waves, now and then splashing against the rocks. Poor Scott, poor, poor fellow, if he could only have seen that romantic sight, he would surely7 have had a knight on the rock of heart shape wooing his lady fair. Fortunately, my wish had come true, for there were two lovers on the rock referred to. They were taking an opportunity to enjoy this—.ves we might call it “Cupid’s Paradise 1” Was she a modern girl—a flapper? Ah! no, she was not that terrible type of person which is discussed so often in this wicked, disgraceful, modern generation, she seemed beautiful. Their heads were just showing above the rock. It was a pleasure to see that her hair was not abbreviated as is the case with most of these modern—no I believe it is unnecessary to mention what they are called, again. Her glorious golden curls were ruffled by7 the warm breeze and the sunset brought out all the fascinating glints of it. How the man admired her! He gazed into her deep blue ey7es and told her, from the bottom of his tender heart, how much he loved her. Life must have been wonderful for fhem; he just told her in the most

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 9 sure thing. My! but I am sorry, though, to have half my wine cellar broken. Before I go to bed tonight I will mend that steel collar so it won’t fall on my other bottle, all right.” Now about the armor. Whether it really changed or whether it was the old man’s imagination, it is hard to tell. All 1 can say it the owner of the armor kept his word. Neither he nor any other man ever saw the phenomenon repeat itself. FRANCES HOPKINS, ’23. -----o------ THE MYSTERY OF BRANDON MILL It was a beautiful evening. The stars were shining brightly, and everything was calm and still. An old mansion stood out in its whiteness as a thing long to be remembered. On the front porch one could see the forms of an old man and a young girl. The man was Colonel Whitney, and the girl, who was his grand daughter, Ruth Maple, was on a visit from the North. “This is surely a wonderful evening, but I would like it better if you would tell me the story of Brandon Mill, which you promised to tell me,” said Ruth to her grandfather. “Oh, to be sure. This is just like the night when—well, I’ll tell you the story,” answered the Colonel. “When the war broke out between the North and the South, I enlisted as a lieutenant under the Southern flag, mv sympathies being with the South, as I was a born Southerner. A great many men, both old and young, enlisted at the same time. “There was a young girl near where I lived who had a sweetheart who enlisted in the Northern army. His name was John and hers was Sadie. Sadie’s father was a staunch Southerner. The day John left he said, ‘Remember, you are never to enter the house again, for you are to be a stranger to me.’ “Several months later while at the front, I received word that my wife was ill; so I obtained a furlough for a few weeks. Arriving home I found my wife much better than I expected. “In the town there were a great many Northern soldiers. John was among them. John had a great desire to see his sweetheart, Sadie; but knowing her father’s feeling towards him, he realized that he must meet her in secret. One night while trying to enter the house he met Sadie’s father, who taking him for a burglar, drew his revolver and shot John. Jdhn staggered away in the darkness until he met some troops who were camping neaT. Meanwhile, Sadie’s father learned that he had shot John. He was sorry for what had happened and tried to get word to John but could find no trace of him. “There was a mill in a large wood about a mile from town, called Brandon Mill. It had not been occupied for years. One night shortly after John was shot, a man on his way home passed the mill and heard someone singing. Of course the man was greatly surprised. “Soon after, Sadie’s father heard the singing, and he, with several men decided to search the mill. A few nights later they started out. As they drew near, they again heard the singing. They listened for a few seconds, then Sadie’s father told the men to wait and if he needed help he would call. There was a tower in one end of the mill. Up its stairs Sadie’s father ran. Suddenly he came upon a door. He opened it and came upon a beautiful picture. In the window sat his daughter, playing a guitar and singing. At her feet sat a colored boy and girl. They were listening to Sadie’s music. “ ‘Why, Sadie, what are you doing here?’ ” At the sound of his voice the girl stalrted. “ ‘Oh, daddy,’ Sadie pointed to the opposite side of the room, where, upon a couch lay the figure of a man. ‘Oh. dad. I had to come for John. For if he had died, I could not bear to think of you as the one to blame. I did not dare to tell you that he was here.’ “Sadie’s father sprang to John’s bedside and falced the man he had shot. Sadie then told heT father how she had found John, and how with the help of some of the soldiers she had carried him to the mill. “By this time John awoke. “ ‘John, will you forgive me and come home with Sadie and me?’ “John’s face answered him. They went back to the mansion and there John recovered from his wound. The war ended shortly after; then John and Sadie were married.” The clock struck twelve as the Colonel finished his story. They both sat motionless for a few moments. Ruth arose softl'v. kissed her grandfather and entered the mansion. LEVERF.TT EDGETT, ’24. ------o------ ONLY A BOMB Sambo lived near the wharf. Almost every day he was down at the water front to watch the big ships dock. These were loaded with all sorts of barrels, boxes, casks, heavy bags, and thousands of strange looking things which the men told Sambo were wizards’ bombs.” “Dey sure is funny things,” thought Sambo, hoping that one would fall off so