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

Page 9 text:

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

Page 8 text:

6 THE GREEN AND WHITE dens. Please, dear, say that I may go to town tomorrow and hire the carpenters. We will have no more ghosts in the house of Stanton.” “Ray, you made a mistake. We will have no more ghosts in the house of More’land.” R. M. MORRIS, ’22. -----o------ THE AMERICAN GIRL The American girl, what is she? What does that adjective imply? Some would define her as an immodest, forward creature, with short hair and shorter skirts. The American girl resents it, why shouldn’t she? One of our foremost writers says, “The flapper, or, in other words, the American girl, is not a disease, but a symptom of one. Their mothers and fathers, and yes, even their grand parents were symptoms of that disease. For there is no disease that has not more than one symptom.” But what is wrong with our girl of today? Nothing, she is clear good through and through. The American girl, as a rule, is a healthy, well-developed girl with high ideals. She is honest, brave, and capable of taking care of herself; but she is not forward and immodest, as she is often criticised, especially by older women, for as a rule the modern girl appeals to the men because of her ability. The American girl swims, golfs, rides, and plays tennis. She reads good books, she travels, she cooks, she sews, she hikes, she talks fluently on any subject of the day, she works, and she holds a position, whether in business or in politics, as well and often better than a man could do. Like all inventions, as years have passed, the American girl has been improved upon. The Pilgrim and Puritan women, who were the first American girls, were endowed with courage, bravery, and above all, patriotism. These virtues of the American girl have increased as they have descended through generation after generation. An example of the American girl’s worth is shown by what she did during the World War. She enlisted as quickly as the men. American girls flooded France, they drove ambulances, and did many other worthy things “over there.” Many were cited for bravery. Those who were unable to go did their share “over here.” A number of them went in and did a man’s work and often work that many men had failed on. Yet it is this same girl that is being talked about and is being written about today, because she claims the privilege to dress as she pleases. The American girl and her modern dress is “efficiency” in the truest sense of the word. She is no longer hampered by trailing skirts and long sleeves; she is no longer bothered with head aches because of her abundant hair. The flapper has simply trained herself to fit into the place made for her and there has never been a cleaner type of girl through all the ages. REGINA MORRIS, 22. -----o----- THE GROOMLESS WEDDING At last the wedding day arrived. All the preparations were completed, all the invitations were sent out, and the lovely wedding dress was all made. Everyone was talking about the wonderful event; for a big wedding was a wonderful event in Ashton, especially since the bride was Mandy Gray, an old maid. Everyone had given up all hopes for Mandy, and even she had become alarmed when she reached her thirties still unmarried. But after a great deal of thinking she conceived a plan which she quickly put into action. She had put an advertisement in three papers, which read as follows: Wanted—a husband. Must be under forty, preferably in his twenties, respectable looking, not too big an eater, and of good parentage. Apply or write to Miss Mandy Gray, 23 Willow street, Ashton, Maine. Two rather young men had presented themselves at Mandy’s house in answer to the advertisement; but they both had been refused. One was too short and limped slightly when he walked: the other was too fast—indeed, he had a scandalous name, having been married three times. If the truth were known, the men were thankful for the refusals after having seen Mandy. Prospects were beginning to look quite doubtful, when a letter came from a small town in Ohio, containing a picture of a young man. It was from a Mr. Brown and told how he had lost his money in a deal, and would come to visit her as soon as he earned some more. Mandy at once fell in love with the picture, and, being of quite comfortable means, sent him a sum large enough to pay his debts, buy him a car ticket, and purchase a wedding outfit. The wedding preparations were made immediately, and1 at last the fatal day arrived. The groom was, expected to come in the morning, and the ceremony was to be performed at two o’clbck in the village church. At one o’clock he had not arrived, and the bride was on pins and needles. At half past one a letter came, and with trembling fingers Mandy opened it and read the contents to her friends and this is what it said: My dear Miss Gray:—Thank you very much for the money; I needed it greatly. I had no intentions of marrying you since I already have a wife. By the time you

Page 10 text:

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