Bryant Junior High School - Junior Life Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

Page 29 text:

JUNE. 1926 3 THE WANDERINGS OF A NEW STUDENT (Apologies to Homer) As soon as bright-throned morning came, a clear-eyed seventh-grader arose from his bed and spoke thus to his fair-haired mother, saying. “Prepare me with great speed, abundance of bread and rosy red fruit for my mid-day meal.” Then his mother did thus address him in winged words. “Thrice hast thou wakened me from deep slumber, disturb me not again. So saying she fell again into sweet sleep. Thus finding himself independent, this high-born son took it upon himself to find his goodly robe and tunic. Then forth from the bath he came, bearing himself like an immortal, set off for his first day at Bryant Junior High School. Upon his arrival, a deep guttural voice echoed from the spacious hallway saying. Ho. stranger, who are you? Where do you come from? Are you upon some business? Or do you rove at random, as the pirates roam the seas, risking their lives and bringing ill to others? As the 9A thus spake, the highborn son's very soul was crushed within him. dismayed by the heavy voice; nevertheless he answered thus and said: “O long-tried student. I am come in conquest of the large and well known swimming pool, neither am I seeking to do evil. “Come hither! cried the 9A student, so saying he led the way. When he came upon the quiet, green, limpid pool of water, his first impulse was to jump in, but upon second thought, so seemed it best to take a cooling shower first. Just after he had begun to swim around and his heart full with joy, along came the discreet chief and told him nay to tarry longer. Then this youth let fall a bitter tear from under his brows, but upon mentioning of food, he clambered eagerly from the water and did go in quest of the lunchroom. Then after dining, he did follow in his course and so sang with the famous bards. Hazel Donna Wallace. A NIGHT ON AN EXCURSION TRAIN My vacation in Chicago drew to an abrupt close when my unde broke the news that he was forced to go to Minneapolis that Friday night on business. As I was to have no companion on the train from that big city to this, it was soon decided that I should go with him. and before I realized what had taken place. I was on an excursion train, homeward bound. Since this was my first experience on such a car. my attention was soon drawn to the many odd types of people on board. One bent old woman seemed intent upon telling people’s fortunes with cards. She was very amiable and seemed always ready for conversation. I was very anxious to obtain a better view of the woman and my excitement was readily aroused when she drew three bejeweled hatpins from her broad-

Page 28 text:

E. J; HARDAKER Principal of Bryant Junior High School

Page 30 text:

4 JUNIOR LIFE brimmed hat. The removal of the hat revealed an untidy mop of iron gray hair caught here and there with tiny red ribbon bows. A group of young university men strummed on ukeleles and played mouth-organs as a lullaby to two wide-eyed babies who seemed to be enjoying their discordant tunes immensely. To most of the grown ups the gay boys were quite a nuisance and now and then I would hear someone groan and beg for relief. At dawn I awoke only to find the remainder of the passengers fast asleep. I viewed the sleeping figures with suppressed laughter for some, those who wore hats, were slouched in their seats with their dusty dilapidated hats set on at exceedingly grotesque angles. The babies were cuddled in soft blankets and were evidently sleeping soundly. Rows of feet hung limply over the arms of the chairs and dangled in the air. You may be sure that when they awoke I heard more than one complaint of feet that had gone to sleep. Bundles of coats and such articles served as pillows on that memorable night and as a result there was a succession of exclamations such as. “Oh. my neck!” or “Why, look! I can’t twist my neck any further than this!” The people, on the whole, were a wan and weary appearing lot by the time their destinations were reached. Mary Spooner. AT MY GRANDMOTHER'S It is three years since I have visited my grandmother s home in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia, yet I can see it just as clearly now as though it had been but yesterday. The grandeur and beauty of those mountains has always cast a spell upon me. and I would not lor the world give up my memory of them. Her home is situated on a high knoll overlooking Kootenay Lake, a broadening of the Kootenay River. Seen from the back door the mountains loom up dark and stern with their summits far above us looking unattainable, while from the front door they are seen far across the lake, the sight of their snowy peaks making one shiver on a hot summer day. From their bases to their glaciers they are covered with fragrant green pines, not the kind seen in the city at Christmas time, but towering sentinels, whose gigantic size is but in proportion to their surroundings. As far as the eye can reach they stretch in a seemingly endless chain making one feel small and insignificant in comparison with the wonders of nature. At the foot of the hill lies a tiny lake, set like a jewel among these rough surroundings, and truly living up to its name. Mirror Lake, for on its surface delicate, hovering butterflies, and soft billowy clouds are so perfectly reflected that one is doubtful which is the reflection and which is the reality. Because of the extreme cold of some of the winters, wild flowers do not grow abundantly, but many species of beautiful birds make their home here in the spring and summer. It is three miles to the nearest town, but in the early spring this is a most delightful and educational walk. The road winds in and out among the mountains. and as you round each curve a new. and it seems, even prettier picture meets your eye. One moment you are fascinated by the beautiful plumage of some bird; the next you are exclaiming over the playful antics of a squirrel or chipmunk, or delighted by the picture of an old moss-covered slump, which looks as if it might have stood in that same place for hundreds of years. But before the end of the journey is quite completed, one crosses the most picturesque bridge I have ever seen. It spans a rushing torrent held in on either side by s o e walls overgrown with cool green moss, glistening in the sun as