Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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12 THE SEN 10 R TM A G N E T ALMOST A ROMANCE Margaret Beserock It was a beautiful spring day. The birds were singing, the trees were bright and green, in short it was the sort of a day our mothers would choose for a thorough house cleaning, or the young man across the alley would choose as a favorable day to see her, or the sort of a day that you or 1 would try out our new spring bonnets. But to go on with my story. It does not deal with spring bonnets or house cleaning. But it deals with the lives of two people. Now you know the whole story. The handsome young millionaire married a poor but beautiful maiden, and they lived happily ever after even though their income tax was very heavy. But there you are wrong again; the millionaire never married the pretty maiden, and thus the last part of our story must end differently. A young lady sat reading a book in one of the many parks in New York. Now there is nothing unusual or remarkable about that, a young lady and a book in a park,—of course not, she was good to look at. Young men, think of your own Katies and Sallies minus their pimples, long noses and double chins and you have a very fair portrait of this certain young lady. I ler name was Sadie Ferguson. Sadie came from the country. Like all country girls, she came to New York to get nice clothes and to find the hero. She had an abundance of nice clothes, but the latter she had yet to find. Prom a dish-washer she had risen to the position of cashier in one of the leading down-town restaurants. She was considered the brightest and prettiest girl in the restaurant. She wfas able to give the correct change even while she was talking. She could talk on any subject from “ I he building of the Panama Canal” to “Why girls leave home.” Sadie was a very bright girl, indeed. As fate would have it, Jonathan Pierce, the young millionaire, was passing through the park in the guise of a common workman. Oh, by the way, Mr. Pierce had more than ten million and was actually sick at the sight of money. In other words he was one of those newly-made millionaires who come from the west, throwing fifty dollar bills through the train window at the passers-by. Society whispered that he was in search of a wife. Poor working girls dreamed and society shuddered, while mammas with marriageable daughters sighed in vain. Mr. Pierce did not fail to notice the girl at the bench. Me wondered who she was and he hoped she was not rich. “A very sweet face; I wonder if she is a poor working girl. 1 hope she is,” he thought. While these things were flitting through the young man’s brain, Sadie glanced up, then immediately glued her eyes on her book. Oh, by the way, she was reading “The Divine Comedy.” lie is a very fine looking young man, but, oh, he must be very poor to wear such shabby clothes. We haven’t a written record of how it happened, but it happened in a moment; the book fell and there you are; you know' the rest. In a moment they were introduced; opinions were exchanged on loveliness of the weather, and who should be our minister to Turkey, in short, they talked about everything. Sadie Ferguson told him all about her travels in foreign countries. As he listened, his heart grew sad. “She is wealthy, she talks of nothing but her travels, her servants, and money.” “Poor boy! he will be interested to

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THE SENIOR MAGNET snob. The sissy with his girlish ways; he’d show him if he cut in on his girl! At this moment he collided with something. He regretfully called back his wondering thoughts and gazed negligently at the obstacle. The next moment he wished that the earth would open and swallow him up, for what should his eyes encounter but the angry and indignant countenances of “Chardy” and her friend Ruth. He blushed and stammered and hastily apologized. Noses-in-the-air they flounced past him, scornfully commenting on the clumsiness of a certain boy. To make matters worse, he saw the “bunch” rounding the corner. With set face and eyes straight ahead he pushed steadily on, not heeding the derisive yells and cat-calls which followed him. 1 le mentally noted the most offensive and vowed that the town around here would witness a little excitement in the near future. He then concluded wearily to return to his suicidal reflections. On a second thought he decided that turning on the gas would be too tame a way of making his demise. But before another plan was formulated he discovered he had reached home. His mother was looking for him and caused his heart to bound cheerfully by telling him that a plate of fresh doughnuts was awaiting him in the pantry. He made a dash for the pantry deciding to postpone his death until after he had made a closer acquaintance with those particular doughnuts. In taking Buddy out in the coach she decided to overlook his many other faults. B.H.S. LEA VING Saha Lee Spero We’re glad that we’re leavin, Ami happy to he free; From school’s relenting bondage, And teachers stern decree. Blit in long and lonely years, When we sit and ponder well; We’ll find that there’s regret, When we give that sad farewell. And though we smile and happy are, Our tears kept firmly hack; We feel that after all we leave, There’s something we well lack. For there’s pain in the parting, And to be free is sorrow; For from our childhood friends, We will be free tomorrow. So a sad farewell for all ’t’will be, And all will feel the pain; When ere we will leave, this grand old school, To ne’er come back again. DON’T GIVE UP THE SHIP! Floyd Yohe Don’t give up the ship, boys! Don’t give up the ship; We’ve weathered many a storm—boys! We’ve got to make this trip. The waves may break upon deck. And winds may tear the sail; But the ship will never be a wreck, And her crew will never fail. So put your oilskins on—My boys, And come up on the deck. The ship has weathered many a gale, But she must be held in check. Swing to it with a will, boys, Thats how we’ll get her in; For we can’t shirk the job, boys, If our goal we expect to win. At last we’ve brought her in, boys, That shows what will can do. If we really want a thing done well, Work will make it all come true.

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THE SENIOR IMAGNET 13 hear all this; he will believe me; he thinks I am wealthy. Let him think so, for it is a treat to him!” mused wise little Sadie. And thus they talked, each spoke of his desires and ambitions. Mr. Pierce talked about the poor, the friendless orphans, the suffering of the poor, and the tyranny of the rich. ‘‘It is getting late. I must be going home for I am attending a reception tonight.” And thus she left him with a dazzling smile. I le offered to take her home but she murmured thanks and excuses. It would never do for her, the head cashier, to be seen with such a shabby escort. “He is a very fine young man, but, oh, so poor and shabby,” mused Sadie as she lit her tiny gas stove to cook her evening meal. “Well, anyway, he thinks I'm some society queen. A rich guy for me, or I’ll remain Sadie Ferguson forever.” And with this wise remark, she cooked her potatoes and pork. A handsome car stopped at the entrance of a beautiful large mansion. A young man stepped out and quickly walked up to the door of the mansion. A footman came to the door and let him in. It was his home, and his servants. As he reached the library, he sank in a large chair and bowed his head. She is rich, for she talks of nothing but money. Yet I was so sure that she was the right one.” Mrs. Mike O’Donnell sat on the back porch of her tiny bungalow busily engaged in darning stockings. She laid her darning on the table and picked up the paper. What she saw in glaring headlines was indeed surprising. A photo of the young millionaire Jonathan Pierce and his bride. And by the way, she was considered one of the richest young women in America. “Can you beat that?” exclaimed Sadie. “Well, who would have thought it!” She again took up her darning, and a soft smile spread over her pretty face as she patted big Mike’s size ten socks. Suddenly she heard the gate click, and the tall muscular form of Big Mike in fireman’s uniform appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Oh, Mike, 1 thought you were never coming. You can’t guess what I baked for you today” With this puzzling remark, Mrs. O’Donnell ran into the kitchen followed by her happy husband. ----------------b.h.s.--------------- LIFE Floyd Yohe Life is but a milling race, In which for all there is a place; Some are slow, and some are fast, And there are some who are always last; Some are afraid to leave the rut, Fearing lest they get a cut; Some are content to roll along, Pushed by the shoving of the throng; Some strive onward to success, To be envied by those less. Life is only what we make it, It is either short or long; It is not the length,— But how we live it, That will help the world along.