Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 15 text:

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.

Page 14 text:

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

Page 16 text:

14 THE SENIOR (M A G N E T HIS CHOICE Carl McMurray It was Friday afternoon before the big game between Center High School and Rockford High School. These two high schools have been rivals in all athletics. Center had won the basket ball and baseball championships from Rockford in the spring term. They were going to do their uttermost to make a “clean sweep” by winning the football game on the next afternoon, which victory would mean the third championship of the year. That evening the team reported as usual and went through a light, but snappy signal practice. The coach, Robert Graham, better known as “Bob,” had selected a few special plays for the final game. When he was satisfied with the workout, he called the squad around him and gave them a few directions, emphasizing training rules.” This gallant and worthy machine, composed of eleven strong, sturdy boys, was captained by Jimmie McCandless. Jimmie was Center’s dashing full back and the main figure in the team, and he was well able to handle his job. The scrubs who had helped to develop the team deserved a credit they hardly ever get. They practiced against the first team every evening after school. I he first team outplayed the second in all ways and it wasn’t much fun to play against such odds. One scrub surely deserved credit and that was Johnny White. This was his last year and he wanted to carry a large red “C” to college with him. He tried, and tried hard, but had few chances against such a worthy competitor as the captain, for full-back was also his position. He was the best backfield man on the second team, and traveled with the first, never giving up hope of getting a chance to earn his letter. I hat very evening on the way home from practice, Johnny was tempted. He met Dorothy Madison, a class-mate, and close friend of his. “There is a party at Kennedy’s tonight, said Dot, “and I wondered if you would go.” “I’m sorry,” said Johnny, but 1 have to keep training rules. Big game tomorrow, you know.” “Oh! shucks!” answered Dot, “that is what you always say. You have kept training rules better than any other member of the team and go along with them only to keep the bench warm. You haven’t been in a game this season. And your chances will be pretty slim tomorrow. What’s the use?” Johnny was in a bad fix. He knew what “Dot” had said was right. Should he go or should he not? There was just one more game to play and it was the championship game. What if Jimmie got injured? Would he be needed. He would be true to his school in case he was needed. “I don’t think I can go,” said John. Dot did not even answer him, but turned and went down the street leaving him staring after her. He supposed his friendship with Dot was at an end, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to do what was right. Saturday afternoon the boys were all arrayed in their togs of war, waiting for the coach’s signal to go onto the field. Just then the coach came in. “Boys,” said Bob,” “the game will be close and hard fought by both teams, but you can come out on top if you fight and fight for Center. Now go, and every man do his duty.” The stands were filled, the Center students on one side of the field, were out in full force, and when the team came on the field, they cheered loud and clear for the team. This gave the team a