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

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4 THE GREEN AND WHITE LITERARY A FABLE Two fishes, Mackerel, and his cousin, Tautog, were swimming around idly in the shallow waters near the shore, when Mackerel espied a big worm on the sand near the edge of the water. “I'm hungry,” said Mackerel to his cousin, “I'd like to have that worm.” “I know of a plan to get it,” replied his cousin. “Listen! When the tide comes in a little, I’ll swim up and get the worm. I can glide over that slippery rock to get the worm.” “But supposing you can’t get back to the water! You'd better not do it. I know of some mussel beds down the bay.” “I want that worm. I’m tired of mussels and besides, I can get back easily enough. So Mackerel swam off and left his cousin Tautog swimming around waiting for the tide to rise. A little while later Mackerel came back to see what luck his cousin had had. To his surprise he saw Tautog floundering helplessly on the dry sand—but Mackerel could not help him—and the worm was nowhere in sight. Tautog had not even reached as far as the worm-hole. “Poor toutog,” thought his cousin, “he is a wise fish who swims in his own bay.” DILYS M. WALL, Class 1925. -----o------ THE EDUCATIONAL FAMILY “Oh, dear!” groaned the old Arithmetic lying in a desk. “I believe I’m growing older every day.” Are you just finding that out?” queried a voice near her. I didn’t know that I was talking to you,” replied the saucy book. “Some people should be seen and not heard.” “I didn’t see you until I heard you first,” sniffed the Eraser with a toss of her head. “Here, here!” called the Grammar, “What’s all this trouble about,” and she called her granddaughter Eraser to her. “I think it was true when Lead Pencil called you a rubber neck.” Everyone stopped talking, school had begun. The Arithmetic was on duty, and had with her her nephew, Lead Pencil. The children were dismissed and the Educational Family gathered in the hall with their Ruler, who was to speak to them. He was terribly disagreeable and everyone said he had a heart of wood. He stamped across the platform and announced that they were going to have a strike against rough handling by the pupils. Everyone agreed with the Ruler. There was so much excitement during the meeting that Lead Pencil tripped and fell over Razor Blade who had a habit of biting and received a bad cut. Then poor old Arithmetic, who was hobbling over to see what had happened to her nephew, fell against the Eraser. She was helped up, and the Ruler, who could not hold his temper, began to scold. “Mrs. Arithmetic,” he said, “You have set a bad example today, and must turn over a new leaf.” Next the king called Razor Blade and said, “You have given Lead Pencil a close shave and will have to be punished.” The Razor Blade stood looking very dull, and cast a sharp glance at the Ruler. The meeting adjourned, and though they could not agree, they found “peace” in the Dictionary. KATHERINE BULLOCK, ’24

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dmtt VOL. 1. JUNE, 1924 No. 1. rSSUED BY THE STUDENTS OF THE COLT MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL. BRISTOL, R. I. Editor-in-Chief—SIDNEY MAKOWSK Exchange Editor KATHERINE BULLOCK Joke Editor ALBERT PIERCE Associate Editor NORMAN BENARD. Business Manager EILEEN D. MOORE Assistant Business Manager GERTRUDE GRICE Circulation Manager MARY I. MATHESON Assistant Circulation Manager GEORGE MacDONALD Literary Editors ARLEEN HOLM GLADYS BEAVIS Alumni Editor ANNIE D. SISSON Faculty Adviser SARA C. CALLAN Reporter of Sophomore Class EDWARD BLACKMAN Reporter of Freshman Class ELIZABETH O’CONNOR TO OUR ADVERTISERS The staff of the Green White wishes to thank the advertisers for their financial support, upon which the success of this depends. We realize that under the present conditions they have indeed made a large sacrifice by advertising in the columns of the Green White. The Green White hopes that the people of the town of Bristol will realize this fact and make it their policy to help these retailers. The best policy to pursue is “BUY AT HOME.” The advertisers make this book possible, and the people make their business possible. ------o----- The pupils of the C. M. H. S. extend to Mr. R. R. Strong who has been principal of the school for the past five years their sincere wishes for a very successful and happy career in his new position in Bristol, Conn. TABLE OF CONTENTS IN MEMORIAM ------------------ 1 EDITORIAL STAFF ........... 2 BOARD OF EDITORS 3 EDITORIALS -.... 3 LITERARY .............. — 4-16 SOCIAL 16-19 ATHLETICS ............ 19-23 CHIPS ................ 24-26 ALUMNI 27-28 ADVERTISEMENTS .......... 29-36

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 5 PIONEER DAYS During the seventeenth century a settlement was founded in Pennsylvania by a Quaker, Thomas Brooks, and his followers. My story opens about five years later. The cabins have been improved and strengthened; a bountiful harvest has been gathered in by all; and the Quakers calmly wait for winter, which is advancing upon them rapidly. The founder, Brooks, who has been made Governor, sits in his armchair by the fireplace contentedly smoking his long pipe, with his eyes gazing fixedly on the flames as if he saw pictures among them. His wife, a small, quaint woman, sits across from him, spinning demurely on her spinning-wheel and often glancing fondly at the sleeping babe in the cradle by her side. Two boys sit at the table—their heads bent over their books and their hands clutching their hair as if they would like to ask it to solve the problems—studying their morrow’s lessons and often heaving deep sighs with covert glances at their father. A little girl of about nine years of age is rubbing some copper utensil as if her life and honor depended on its brightness. All wear the severe yet neat costume of the Quakers. The room is still save for the crackling of the burning logs, the humming of the wheel, and the gentle breathing of the infant. They are so absorbed in their thoughts that they don’t hear running steps, and they start from their seats when a loud, imperious knock is heard. The master of the house lays down his pipe and opens the door. A savage, breathless with running, states his errand at the door. “Chief—seeck—come queeck—white man cure.” “Priscilla, the chief is ill. Prepare some broth and food, and get me my medicine satchel,” he says, addressing his wife, who has promptly arisen at the mention of her name. Without further ado she does as she is bidden. In a very short time he is hurrying towards the chief’s camp, accompanied by Warba, the mesenger. “What is the matter with thy chief?” “Chief—sleep, sleep all time—no eat—call for white man,” answered the Indian. Upon entering the royal tent Governor Brooks hears deep groans issuing from the corner. The good chief lies on his luxurious furs, rolling from side to side in pain. Ordering Warba to bring more wood, he proceeds to nurse the chief. “Chief, drink this hot soup. I have also some meat for thee.” The chief disposes of both without a word, and seems the better for them. The Governor bathes the chief’s brow many times, then gives him a drink made by boiling some herbs, which instantly puts the patient to sleep. Many days the white man nurses, doctors, and watches over the Indian till the latter is safely on the road to recovery. Many months have passed since the chief’s illness. Strange and unpleasant happenings are occurring in the settlement. At last the Indian chief is summoned to a white man’s meeting. “Chief Tam-a-wa-ka, some of thy tribe have been seen lurking around the cabins and it is our belief that they are the cause of the burning of the school-house, the disappearance of our neighbor’s logs, and the frightening of our women and children. In fact one of thy best warriors, namely Warba, is our prisoner. Evidently he has not forgiven the whites for catching the deer from his grasp last winter. Taking advantage of the influence he exercises over his companions, he has talked them into a fighting spirit and in person led them to the acts aforesaid. Fortunately for us he has been caught in the act and will get his punishment—a week in the stocks on bread and water. “As thee know’st, we Quakers do not believe in war and the shedding of human blood. We hope that we will not be forced to change our opinion now.” Governor Brooks, as spokesman, is very stern as he says, “I have endured all I am going to endure and my neighbors say the same.” Warba is locked in the stocks—to any proud Indian the worst and most embarrassing punishment to be administered to him by the white man. He is silent; but silence is more to be dreaded sometimes, and this is no exception. Day by day his wrath towards the Quakers increases and day by day he thinks of a way to get revenge. For the rest of the winter no more disturbances occur and the settlement is very thankful. A change, though, has come over the chief. His visits to the village are less frequent and cordial. Nowadays he seems preoccupied and sad. One day towards spring, Warba enters the chief’s wigwam and in his native tongue he says, “Chief, why don’t you do something? Don’t you see how the whites are pushing us westward every day, depriving us of our hunting grounds? Get rid of them before their number and power increase.” So he speaks day after day till the chief answers to Warba’s evil joy, “Very well, tell the warriors that we will attack the Governor’s cabin tomorrow.” The truth is he is very grateful toward his benefactor for restoring him to health and utters the above decision in a rash