Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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CLASS OF JANUARY, 1932 23 sv •w camp rise and repeat the scout benediction. The scouts hike back 'to their huts and retire for the night, but this time there is no laughing nor talking. By this sign, the camp director knows that his story has reached the hearts of his boys. He smiles to himself as one who has accomplished his purpose. The bugler sounds Taps” which seems to echo back these words from the distant hills: Day is done; Gone the sun From the lake, from the hill, from the sky; All is well, safely rest, God is nigh !” cMy Sister’s cProm of ’32 (As Bud saw it thru a window) LaVerne Allen The fellas an’ girls, they all went in pairs. ’Twas sure a swell dance; my sister wuz there. If you’d seen her a-primpin’ an’ fixin’ her hair, You’d a-thought it wuz given by some millionaire— Honest you would! There wuz oodles of colors, an’ a whole lot o’ pop, An’ that waltz they wuz playin’ sure wuzn’t a flop, An’ the girls wuz all smilin’ in their fellas eyes, An’ then turnin’ an’ dancin’ with some other guys— Honest they wuz! At last it wuz over; I thought it wuz time. (I wuz s’posed to be in bed since a quarter past nine). The girls wuz all sighin’ as they sauntered past ’Cause they couldn’t see how the time had gone so fast— Honest they wuz! They seemed sorta sad as they all walked away; It seemed sorta queer ’cause they’d all been so gay. Sis told me that I’d feel just like that some day; Graduation sure gets you!” that’s what they all say— Honest they does!

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22 THE SENIOR MAGNET sponse and teamwork of his steeds. Each must do his part and all must work alike. As time passed on, the boy, who had now grown to manhood, and his closest companions, who numbered twelve by this time, endeavored to show men where they were making their mistakes and how to overcome their faults Many men listened eagerly and attentively to this great leader and his follow ers; however, there were other men, men who did not reason carefully, who jeered and ridiculed the great founder and his organization. This latter class was composed of men who did not reason for themselves, but who were satisfied to follow others, whether right or wrong. Unfortunately, this class approved and followed men who were penurious, cruel, and selfish. These unscrupulous men, whose influence lessened as the reformer and his band became better known, conspired together and formed a plan whereby this one, who hindered their schemes, could be put out of the way. They bribed one of the great man’s followers to betray him. In the meantime, they influenced the drifting mob against him. One night, the leader sat at supper with his twelve companions. He told them that they must soon go on with the work without him. Shortly after this, he was betrayed by one of his twelve closest friends, captured by the mob, and, upon its demand, sentenced to die. The good leader was led out to be executed. As he was dying, he looked upon the mob and, thinking of them and his companion who had betrayed him, said, 'Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’ Turning to his followers, the organization for which he was dying, he said, 'Lo, I am with you always.’ It was then that the mob realized what it had done, but they realized it too late. The Teacher’s work was done, but the members of His organization saw that theirs was not. They went on with the great purpose of their Master. They worked to build better manhood. Each member did his share, and the organization grew, always pressing on toward the ideal of its Founder.” Here again, the narrator pauses. Still the boys remain silent, gazing up at the heavens or into the dying embers of the fire. Once more he smiles and resumes his narrative. Recently, in England, an old man, who followed the ideal of the Leader of long ago, conceived the idea of a similar organization. This man wished to carry out the purpose of the Master by building better boyhood in order that we might have better manhood. His plan materialized and spread throughout the entire world. Today, in every civilized land, the organization exists. It is sometimes ridiculed by shallow thinkers and those who are content to follow others, but it is admired by those who reason for themselves. Now, scouts, I am wondering whether the members of this present-day organization will be as true to the ideal of its founder as those members were to the Founder of that organization of long ago.” Often had the spirits of Washington and Lincoln hovered over the campfire; but to-night it seems as if the spirit of Christ, the greatest of all leaders, is present. The director reverently extends his hands; the members of the

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24 THE SENIOR MAGNET fantasy Marybel Conabee To say the place was lonely would be insufficient; it was solitary and desolate, in a part of the country away from nearby towns. The sole road leading to it was stony and twisted, and narrow enough to endanger even my shiny new Austin. Yet it was just the type of road to beckon irresistibly to an amateur hunter of antiques, and my heart thrilled when, emerging from a long stretch of woodland, upon a high mound of land, I caught sight of a great, rambling, gray stone house. It was deserted. What treasures might it not contain? 1 wanted to rush up the tiny hill to the house, but my progress was obstructed by a rusty, barbed-wire fence, strongly built and reaching to my shoulder. The house was too fine to pass by, however; too grand to allow one to sleep in peace after being permitted the opportunity of viewing it. My collector’s instinct led me to follow this fence in the hope of finding a gate. I was not disappointed; soon I came to an old-fashioned stile, which I crossed easily. It was lazy weather, so I now took my course slowly, gazing above me at the uncertain sky. The place was deathly quiet. By my side flowed a deep, quiet stream which was dark as the woods from which it issued. All at once I felt the ground softening under my feet and, gazing down, saw that I was almost at the brink of one of the finest springs nature ever produced. Above it on the bank grew a mammoth willow tree with its gorgeous, drooping plumes almost touching the water. Fancy led me to dream of happy faces that in years gone by had bent to drink of its cool, sweet mountain water. Perhaps, even, a romantic young couple had sat beneath this tree upon its roomy, inviting roots, and had read their future in the depths of the spring. Or perhaps it was a sweet old lady who had come here to dream of happy days gone by. All my desire to see the quaint old house came back with a rush. I ran up the path and took it all in at a glance. It was grand ! I stepped upon the huge slab of stone which had served as a step down from the porch and caught my breath as I saw dimly engraved upon it the date— 1773.” 1773 !” Surely not that old ! But what had once been proud, haughty pillars lay rotting at my feet, and the porch was in ruins. The house was certainly ancient. I stepped onto the porch cautiously. The door was gone and, passing through the open doorway, I found myself in the hall. On the left began the most enticing circular staircase imaginable. Inquisitiveness urged me to follow it, but doubt of its stability held me back, so I looked to my right and left to investigate the first floor. On the left I saw a bare room, square in shape. Almost opposite the doorway was a large fireplace of quaint old tile. Otherwise, the room contained nothing of