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

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THE 0 R E E N AND WHITE 9

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8 run i r e n n and whi t n RHODE ISLAND The spirit of Rhode Island, founded upon the principles that moved Roger Williams and his little band of hard. God-fearing folk to christen their first place of refuge in that State “Providence,” is best exemplified by the State watchword, “Hope.” Through the years, that spirit, coupled with a profound faith in God and mankind, has inspired the inhabitnats of that little State, and spurred them on to turn seeming defeat into overwhelming victory. Just as value cannot be judged by mere superficial appearances, so the true worth or importance of Rhode Island, fondly called Little Rhody” because of its status as the smallest State in the Union, cannot be estimated by concrete standards. For how can one set a value upon a State that has given to the Nation. and to the world, such men as Captain Benjamin Church, General Nathanael Greene. James Franklin. Stephen Hopkins. William F.l-lerv. Captain Robert Gray. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry. Daniel Jackson. George H. Corliss, and General Ambrose E. Burnside? Surely a State that performs such a service incurs the immortal gratitude of mankind. Since its colonization in 1636 Rhode Island has been an exponent of the ideas and ideals that have made the Nation comprising these United Staes the greatest on earth. As one of the original thriteen colonies, she fought side by side with her sister colonies for independence, and for the right to establish a government of the people, for the people, and by the people. In 1812. as a part of a growing, thriving nation, she fought to establish the freedom of the seas: and in 1917. as a part of a great nation, and of a great alliance of nations, she entered into a war to end war, a war to make the world safe for democracy, a war to crush forever the scourge of tyrannical despotism. In the midst of all this turmoil, when racial and national differences were forgotten, staunch, firm, and selfsacrificing stood Rhode Island, giving her share of men and resources for the common good. In the darkest hours of trial and tribulation. Rhode Island, led the wav. like a shining light, with one word. “Hope. emblazoned in the hearts of her people. However, the service that this little State has rendered to mankind has not all been in the past: now. as in former times. Rhode Island is doing her part to establish nation-wide prosperity, and is putting into practice more and more the principles of optimism heralded bv her watchword. “Hope.” Rhode Island has always been an important factor in the industrial and intelectual life of the Nation. The State as a whole is one of the greatest manufacturing districts in the country, and is famed far and wide as a thriving industrial center. Small though it may he. this State harbors within its narrow precincts an imposing group of schools and college, graduating their annual ouotas of young men and women trained to take their positions in the affairs of the State, the Nationa, and the world. As a center of social and sporting acitvity, Rhode Island is unsurpassed. It is a noted summer resort, and has achieved world-wide fame for its yachting activities. As striking panorama of beauty, history, commerce, industry, and social activity, this State is deserving of our utmost and heartfelt praise. So let us pay tribute to Rhode Island, the smallest, yet one of the greatest States in our Nation! GEORGE C. WILSON. '34. ------- -------- ORCHESTRA NOTES This year, as in the past. Colt has a fine orchestra. It is made up of fourteen members, and has been holding rehearsals in the auditorium on Monday afternoons, under the direction of Mrs. Theresa Donovan. The members are as follows:— Violin :— Herman King. Esther Hazen. Peggy Math-erson. Angelo Russo, and Joseph Borges. Cornet :— Merideth Hawes. Maurice Smith, Jr., and Joseph Securo. Clarinet:— Lloyd Smith, and Frank Campagna. Piano:— Barbara Huestis, Bertram Bullock. Drums :— Anthony Bruno. Xylophone:— Anthony Bruno. A new addition, the xylophone, was entered th:« year bv Anthony Bruno, and he made quite a hit with it. ------- -------- SPRING Spring, with her golden suns, and silver rain, Is with us once again. To lift our thoughts, and soothe our pain. And make us happy men. Spring with her cresting floods, and budding trees. And willowy fields of green. And soaring birds in a fitful breeze. Faced in the bright sun’s gleam. Spring, with her azure skies, and pretty sights. And her crispy, tangy air. With exuberant days, and bracing nights; Ah. and a day in June is rare? Spring, with her leafless bow'rs. and dark lagoons. And the crocus peeping through. And twinkling stars, and, cold, white moons — 'Tis enough for me,—and vou? V. C. OTTEX, '34. ------- -------- Miss Robinson after asking unanswered question!—“McCarthy, it's a sh-nv some of you can’t get an idea once in a while. McCarthy—“I have an idea.” Miss Robinson—“Let us hear it, then. McCarthy—“I have an idea 1 don't know the answer.

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10 THE GREEN AND W h I T E PHEASANT A forlorn, deserted, little white cottage sits upon a hillside nearly hidden by trees, and if these same trees were able to speak this is the strange story they would tell about the tenant who deserted this attractive cottage: More than a half century ago a lovely, distinguished-looking young woman, whom, because we do not know her name just at present, we shall call Pheasant, had this tiny cottage built, which was a mile from the village and situated upon a beautiful hillside covered with long, waving grass and stately trees. Here she took up her abode. Now no one had any idea who this lady was who cherished, above all tilings, peace and solitude. When she entered the village to do her weekly marketing, she was the subject of idle gossip, as her exquisite beauty and mysteriousness aroused the curiosity of the villagers. For thirteen years Pheasant lived her quiet uninterrupted life—communicating with no one. and having as sole companion a police dog. Gabriel, who was her faithful protector. Nature, apparently was her chief interest for she took long walks through the fields and woods, talking to the wild life, picking the wild flowers that nodded their pretty heads in the playful breezes, and listening to the hundreds of little birds who sang their melodies amidst the sheltering bushes. One afternoon, returning from one of these solitary walks with Gabriel. Pheasant beheld three men in uniform standing on her front porch. Terrified, she rushed in the back door and locked herself in her closet. After calling and receiving no response, the men opened the door and walked in. Gabriel, barking, leaped upon the foremost man, but grabbing his pistol he shot the ferocious dog. When Pheasant heard the dying yelp of this faithful animal, she screamed and fainted. Led to the closet by the scream, the men broke down the door, dragged the girl out to a waiting coach, shoved her in and drove off speedily. While driving through the village the coach collided with another and Pheasant was thrown from her scat. When she regained consciousness she was in the center of a group of kind villagers, who were bandaging her wounds. They persistently demanded to hear her story, and because they had been so kind to her she told them that she was Nadine Ne-vinski, a Russian princess, who, detesting the life of a Russian noble woman, disappointed in a love affair, and yearning for adventure, had disguised herself and fled to America, there to live just as she chose. Until today, no one had discovered her whereabouts, but in some mysterious manner she bad. after thirteen long years, been trailed to her cottage, and these men were officers from her father's court, who had come to take her back to her native land. After the coach had been repaired and Pheasant’s wounds had been dressed, they drove out of the village, and as she gazed at her fast disappearing cottage Pheasant cried, for she felt she was leaving behind a very dear friend. No doubt the cottage cried too, to sec its lovely mistress depart forever. Now it stands upon that hill, king of all it surveys, and its vacant windows stare out upon this heartless world with a pitiable expression—for it is a house with a broken heart SALLY CHURCH. ’.V.. ------- -------- BLISS! When you're smiling bright and cheerful And you're feeling pretty fit” Then they hand you that darn rank card And you wonder what you'll get. Then there is no “Balm in Gilead” As friend Ed. Poe used to sav, For you're sure you got no B’s or C's And you know you got no A. As you stand ther hesitating. Wondering what you'll tell the folks. You think you might appease them With a well directed joke. Now you draw that dog-gone rank card From its envelope so white You think you must be crazy For the thing that meets your sight- Yes—vou didn't flunk a thing; In fact, you got an A You stick your chest out twice as far Wondering what the folks will say. Now. I don’t know how this—er—poem ends 'Cause you see it's just like this The moment that I saw that A 1 was roused from all that bliss— Bv waking up and finding That it was all a dream. Now. I'll bet I didn’t pass a thing. ’Cause dreams aren't what they seem. Now 1 suppose this afternoon I’ll drink the bitter cup Oh gee. oh gosh, oh gracious! Oh. whv did I wake up! GEORGE H. WILSON. .14. ------- -------- Silvery, .'taking the snow covered earth Glitter and scintillate. Even putting the great Kohinoor To shame, The moon rose. V. C. OTTEN. '.14. -------- ------- Campagna—“If I come up sometime, will you give me my mark?” Mr. Burke— What do vou think I am—Mae West ? ” ❖-------Hr-----jJj Jean Tobin 0960)—“My daughter got her sinering voice from me.” Doris MacDonald— You ought to be glad that you got rid of it