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

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 13 dressing room. Her nurse, who called her “my darling,” instead of “your highness,” said • “The pleasantness of the day has done you good; you look quite bright, my darling.” “Ah nurse,” she answered, all thanks to little Gerda Hansler. She did not think I must be happy because of my station and castle, but she reminded me that they were the will of God as much as her own suffering. If she, a little criple, can smile, should I not smile though a thorn lurk among the roses of my crown?” Gerda told me: “God’s will is good for both. That is my best birthday gift.” MARJORIE L. MANLEY, Class of 1932. “AN ENDLESS DAY” The eight fifteen bell has rung; Everyone is on the run. We all rush to our seats, Now and then shifting of feet. A book drops to the floor. Miss Sisson says, “Close the door.” Then we pass from class to class, But the time just won’t pass. There comes a soft patter of feet. It’s Mr. Brightman to test the heat. A sweet voice in English struggles in vain, Motta starts “Singing in the Rain.” We pass back to home rooms, Lunch hour is very soon, Down the stairs we dance with glee, There’s ice cream, sandwiches, but no samples free. Few minutes later each face falls, For now the bell is calling all, Up the stairs we march in dread. Some are wishing they were dead. The time is now drawing near, But it seems just like a year, Till the last bell has rung for the day, Now every face is bright and gay. It’s all over for one day, Even the teachers seem gay, In our hearts there will be sorrow, For there’s another day—tomorrow. ELLA MAE LeMAIRE. “PATTY” Patty is a pretty maid. But to me, no reverence has she paid, My poem which I tried so hard to make, She did scorn and all its glory take. I do not question her, In fact I pity her, To think she has not heard in her day A verse to equal the one I read to her along the way. MARY CELONE, 32. SEA SHORE IN WINTER The sea shore in Winter is a strange plaything of nature. She makes the waters cold and gloomy : the shore a cold and bleak spot. The waters lash the protruding rocks. The gulls swoop low over the sands in a vain search of a stray fish that might casually swim to the surface. These birds of prey hover for a second, then suddenly dive with a headlong rush. Soon they emerge from the cold water—sometimes with a fish and sometimes—nothing. Soon snow begins to fall. The water rats those little gray thieves of the beach, scurry to their shelter or under some low lying rock or pier. The snow falls silently on the waves that roll continuously up the sand and back down again. Sometimes a heron is seen standing shivering in the cold. So falls the wintry night on the sea shore. Morning on that shore means nothing to its inhabitants. The sky is cold and gray, sometimes filled with snow, falling silent. The beach is all white except at the waters edge On the water are huge cakes of ice floating about. They freeze together as the cold increases. The gulls stand about. They cannot get fish and it is too cold to fly. A flock of geese go flashing past them. They are screaming: “Come away, you gulls, come South where it is warm.” The gulls cast a shivering glance at the geese. The wind increases, the ice breaks up. The gulls have to fly now, for there is no place to stand. The wind and water later lashes the ice into a fine slush. Night is coming on again. With it comes sleet, snow and cold winds. As we go away, we hear the faint cry of the heron, and the water washing up on the snow-covered beach, as it seems to say: “Break, Break, Break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.” CHARLES YOUNG, Class 1930. WHY WORRY? Why worry if you flunk a subject or two, If your lessons for tomorrow you are yet to do. If your girl has turned you down, and you feel blue; Or if you’re on the football team with not a victory to boast. Don’t worry, for you will soon find it doesn’t pay. Your work remains undone and your hair'll soon turn gray; You’ll find the joys of life slip by; While you sit still and worry or sigh. Meet your defeats with a grin and a laugh; Grit your teeth and curl up a smile. Tackle your task with joy in your heart, And show that you’re glad to do your part; And I'll bet a cent to a million that you’ll land on top. M. SECURO, Class of 1930.

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12 THE GREEN AND WHITE Mr. Browning and had lived there ever since. From the first day Mrs. Browning had realized there was something odd about him. He didn't trust anyone, he made trouble with the Brownings’ friends by his rudeness, and he also had a hobby of collecting keys—he liked outdoor keys, especially. Then he began to walk in his sleep. “In fact. Mrs. Browning added, several times we have almost had him committed. But we thought he was one of the family; so we couldn't; now we'll put him where he belongs—in an insane asylum.” Then Mrs. Black said: Now that you’re positive that that man isn’t your Uncle, have you thought who he might be? Has he ever said anything that would give you an idea?” No, he hadn’t said anything about his life before he came to the Brownings’. When Mrs. Browning left the next day, nothing had been decided. Who Uncle John might be was still a mystery—and very likely to remain so, as there seemed no way to prove that he wasn’t John Steward, or that he was someone else. Several months later, I again had occasion to call Mrs. Black on the telephone. In the course of our conversation 1 asked about the Steward affair. She was silent for a minute, then she said. “It’s still as strange as ever. When Mrs. Browning returned to her home, she and her husband talked the matter over. They had the poor man sent to the State Hospital for Mental Cases for observation. While there he was absolutely identified as Colonel Steward. They had his record as several years previous he had been one of their patients. He had been discharged as cured, but now his mind is a complete blank and he has developed a mania that all the world is against him. The authorities can make nothing of the case, as there is proof for both men. and yet, how can there be more than one John Steward.” “Was the man identified as John Steward?” I asked. “Mrs. Browning didn’t mention that in her letter. She simply said that he had been absolutely identified as her uncle.” So being still interested in the case, 1 wrote to Mrs. Browning herself for information. In her answering letter, she inclosed a report from the hospital saying that Colonel Henry Steward had been a patient there for many years. So the two old men were both Mrs. Browning’s Uncles—and the whole matter was closed. But 1 can’t help but be sorry for poor Colonel John, who thought he had been forgotten—and who died with bitterness toward his country in his heart. CLAUDIA DEWOLF, '31. CRIPPLED GERDA It was a holiday in the little German town of Slaternburg, because it was the birthday of the duke’s only daughter, Princess Olga, and the schools were closed. It was the children’s holiday, for the princess was only a little girl. At the left side of the castle ran a road, with a few poor cottages along it, quaintly built. At the door of one of them stood a group of girls, clad in clear white clothes. In a little chair on the threshold sat a pleasant looking girl with a very pale face. Poor Gerda could not move unless she was lifted and so she had to sit in her chair all day long while her mother worked. “And where shall you go first?” she asked her companions. Why, to get our bouquets at the market,” said one, and then to the great hall at the castle, where we must wait till the princess comes into the gallery; and then to sing our anthem and lay down our flowers.” “1 should like to go, too, just once,” said Gerda, softly. “It seems cruel to leave you at home, Gerda,” said one girl. “Oh, no!” she replied, “I always enjoy the princess’s birthday. You all bring home such pleasant news.” “How contended you are?” remarked another. “Do you never wish for anything, Gerda?” “Oh, yes, I do,” answered the cripple, smiling. “What do you wish?” asked the other, kneeling beside her. “I wonder if you wish the same as I do.” 1 wish I were useful,” answered Gerda. “Oh, I never think about that, replied the other. “I only wish for finer clothes or French bonbons. I’m useless enough, as we all are.” “Oh. no,” said Gerda. “See now, today you are going to please the princess. They say she does not look happy and that the duke’s new wife is not so sweet as her own mother. When she sees your flowers and hears your song, it will cheer her.” Then they all said good-bye to her and went laughing and chatting down the road. Gerda sat there, knitting, until she thought that her young friends visit at the castle must be over, and she began to long for their return. Soon a small chaise came along the road. In it were two ladies, one with gray hair, while the other was still very young, hardly past early girlhood, with a pale, worn face, and large eyes. She checked the reins when she saw Gerda and . whispered to the other who said, “Little girl, how is it you are not with the other children at the castle?” “I cannot go, I am unable to walk,” said Gerda. “I am a cripple.” “Are you not very lonesome?” asked the lady. “No,’ ’answered Gerda. Just now I expect them back with the news from the castle. The strangers exchanged glances. We have been there, too,” they said. “What would you like to hear?” About the princess. Is she happy?” The younger lady bent forward. “The princess may well envy you.” she said. “Btu she needn’t. God's will is good for her as well as for us,” said Gerda. A smile broke over the stranger’s pale face. Will you tell me your name?” she asked. “I am Gerda Hatisler,” she answered. Then the lady touched the ponies and they went away, and Gerda wondered who they were. That evening the Princess Olga sat in her

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14 THE GREEN AND WHITE A STRANGE EXPERIENCE IN STRANGE YEARS Headlines in papers all over the world were screaming forth their message of another disaster. Porter’s Plane Not Heard from for 48 Hours. No Hope Held for Survivors, If Plane Crashed Terrific Storms Are Reported Over the Vicinity of the Pole by Weather Bureau. At Washington. Commander Porter and his small band of courageous men set out to fly across the North Pole today at 7:15 p. m., Eastern Standard Time. Radio communication was continuous, although heavy storms made clearness impossible, until 10:43 p. m., when a report was suddenly cut short. The year 2453 A. D. a city of approximately 3000 was situated on a small island in the Hudson Bay, where once man couldn't live because of the intense cold. The city of Burton was proud to have the great honor of being chosen by the American, Admiral Wells, a descendant of the first man to fly across both poles, to be his base in a search for the last ice that might have been left by the heat plants. A deep valley had been reported still filled with the heavy and massive cakes of ice. which at one time completely covered the now most prosperous and fertile country belonging to his Majesty King George XVI., the emperor of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain. These ice beds were to be found on this exploration trip, and their exact location found on maps so the rays of heat, from the gigantic heat plants, could melt them and form another healthy and fertile territory to be added to His Majesty’s Empire. The beautiful new aluminum space conquerors, as they were called, were all ready to start. The day had arrived and the Americans quickly left their base and disappeared far to the north in the machines. After several days of vain search the great discovery is made, the last valley of ice is found! The men from the “conquerors” explore the ice fields before they disappear forever. A shout! The men hury to their commander's side, he points to a tremendous cake of ice directly before them. There, standing straight before him and frozen in the center of the huge cake, is— A man! He is dressed in a peculiar costume of now rare furs. The Admiral directs the piercing ray of one of the many chemical torches upon the ice, which immediately begins to melt. As soon as the figure is totally clear of the ice, the sailors rush him to the Admiral’s “conqueror. There it is discovered that he isn’t dead! Gradually, the doctor brings him back to life. The first word that was said was spoken by the Unknown, who looking slowly around in a dazed manner, suddenly asked: Where am I? Where are my men?” The officer answered, “I am Admiral Wells, United States Navy, who are you?” The Unknown snapped to attention and saluting replied: “Commander Ralph M. Porter, U.S.N., sir; commander of the ill-fated Arctic Exploration Plane “Aztec.” Left New York, December 30, 1955, and wrecked five days later by terrific headwinds. What date is this? A startled expression overspread Wells’s face, “What?, he cried, “Left New York in 1955?” “Yes, sir. Why, are you ill?” No, only a shock! Do you realize that this is the year 2453? That your party left the city of New York, four hundred and ninety-eight years ago? You have been frozen almost five centuries!” As the truth suddenly dawned upon him, Porter’s face turned ashen white and he would have fallen if a Marine orderly had not been near and caught him. As he lay on the couch in a dead faint, his hair turned slowly gray and his face became wrinkled. When he was at last brought back to consciousness, he could scarcely speak and realizing that he was dy ing he asked - Will you tell me what has happened to the United States since 1 left?” “The United States.” said Wells, with Great Britain are the only, two countries left. Britain holds Europe, Canada most of Africa, part of Asia, and Australia. The United States holds the rest. The Red and Yellow races attacked the White and Black and were finally defeated by the combined forces of Great Britain and America. All other countries having fallen at the beginning of the war. Finally, at the surrender of the enemy, we divided with Great Britain. That was three hundred years ago.” As he finished speaking, the now very old man gasped and cried out for water. It was brought him with a stimulant, but he had died before the glass was placed to his lips. The “conquerors” with colors at half-mast sailed into Burton one day with a marvelous story to tell. Later Porter was given a naval funeral at Arlington Cemetery in Washington, D. C„ which was still the capital of the mighty nation and----- Hayes!” You hear this, through a fog of returning memory and as you gaze blankly at the firce countenance of Latin Prof. Charles E. Dowd, you realize that your marvelous experience must be chilled by a very dry account of one of Caesar’s everlasting victories. —FRANCIS W. HAYES, ’32. THE CONQUEROR • From afar o’er the hill tops, every day Rumbling and thugging from far away The Limited speeds at its steady pace, A symbol of might of the human race. Defiant whistles and startling cries Resound as the smoke spirals into the skies; Then its echo is heard as it mounts distant hills Rushing from cities through valleys and rills: Day after day its shrill proud cry Returns as we stand to watch it go by 1 MARY R. SULLIVAN, ’31.