Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 18 text:

THE MAGNET strain our brain and “Onomotapoeia” our fingers. We almost all passed through the Sophomore grade. Our Junior year surpassed all others in prestige. We were Juniors. All lower classmen must how to us or take the quince qucnces. This year passed more quickly than one would expect. We were really to enter our Senior year. We were just beginning to get acquainted with the happier part of high school. And now, at last, after four years, we are Seniors—and Seniors about to leave. Although we are glad to attain the first great step toward our goal, still it will he hard to leave B. H. S. As a parting admonition, hear these words and mark them well : “Obey your devoted faculty; study at least once a week, and do not bluff more than once every period. —F. A.

Page 17 text:

THE MAGNET 13 in each student, for his own benefit as well as the glory of old B. H. S. Above all, let us be loyal; first, to the school; then to the class. “If you want to be in the kind of a class That’s the kind of a class you like, You needn’t slip your clothes in a grip And start on a long, long hike. You’ll find elsewhere what you left behind. For there’s nothing that’s really new. It’s a knock at yourself when you knock your class; It isn’t your class—it’s vou.” -s. J. AUF WIEDERSEHEN ! Classmastes, the time draws near ! The day of separation looms on the horizon. How many of us will yearn, in the years to come, for the day when we stood on the threshold, on the chain linking us to Life, with the gun-hand of Fate beckoning us onward ? Yes, we did study hard; we were forced to abandon many enjoyments; we were in constant dread of being referred to Prof. Irvine, and even Supt. Gibson; but just ponder, just meditate for what our sacrifices were offered ! So that our scanty pittance or immense wealth, whatever Destiny, the hand of Fate, weaves for each one, shall not be acquired by the sweat of ou brows, but by three essentials—Brain, Hand and Pen. We have accomplished something. Into the hearts of our faculty we have implanted a never-fading love, a veneration, and a resj ect for our noble aspirations. It will be with a choked sob, a wounded heart, that they shall seize our hands to bid us farewell. But we must not overlook their virtues. With a touch of pride we shall display our heirlooms handed down to 11s through the recess of four long, weary years. What more worthy can we present than our relics. Knowledge, Wisdom and Understanding ? Think of the hours they had to act as doorkeeper, watching study hall until five o’clock, when the door of the prison would swing open. Above all, we offer from the depths of our heart our deep-felt thanks for the beautiful lines of ecstatic, etherial, rythmic poetry which our dear teacher. Miss Miller, instilled into our fevered brains as a remedy to heal our tongues. But, cheer up! It will not be for aye that we part. We shall meet many times in the great metropolis of Life. And till we meet, to our superintendent, principal, faculty, worthy janitor and those in school, we send out and let it re-echo, Auf Wiedersehen! —S. Z. V E NIM U S, L A B O R A T M U S, VICIMUS. RELINQUIMUS Four years have rolled by since we began the course of our high school studies. Our first glimpse of high school life came on the morning of the farewell program given by the Senior class. Gee! but it felt great even to be a Freshman. But as time passed by we tired of being called green and other appropriate names. Our work seemed hard at first; we were scared half to death. We were hardly able to get started, but by honest effort we at last were on our way to our goal. One year passed and we were now Sophs. At last we had made an appreciable gain and were still struggling upward. Our studies were becoming easier; now we were wearing off the green and becoming better bluffers. We began to appreciate the assistance of our faculty and our higher classmen. Here the interesting study of Rhetoric, under the tutelage of Miss Boyle, began to

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THE M A G N E T 15 Coral Cunningham O, Coral C., ye would fain be Haim in your ain countree. For president, there resident, Ye wad need no dignitee. Bu-rwell Cummings Burwell Cummings, with his hummings, Makes it hard for Mr. Nast. But fight as they may, just this I say: Burwell gets the laugh at last. Raymond Thompson O, Raymond T., O how can ye So often take the prize? For it you take, for our class’ sake With so many black eyes. Floyd Allen Floyd Allen is the honest boy In charge o’ the Magnet’s cash. With beauty rare, among the fair He raises quite a clash !