Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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THE WITAN trot. It was hard work, they soon discovered, running in w et, stiff cloth- ing. Bob followed after as fast as he could, with Alice. When the latter two reached the farmhouse, they found Dick and the mysterious boy before the fire, talking as though they had been friends for life. “Can you beat it, Bob—oh, yes, this is Art Sanford—he lives on the farm right back of Grandma’s, on the State road, and he was sliding on a hill back of his house and fell in just the same as I did.” “Oh,” said Bob. And the three boys grinned in com- panionship. Marguerite Heydweiler '27. AROUND THE WORLD One time 1 went to England, Again I went to Spain; I took a trip to China, Another one to Maine. I like the little village Where trains go twice a day; I like the great rich city Where everything is gay. I visit every country, Though 1 am very small; You always pay my passage; I thank you one and all. Now, if you cannot guess me, Perhaps I'd better try To help you just a little— The postman's going by. —Marion Smith '25. BE HAPPY When all your friends desert you And the sun has left the sky. Do not be morose and lonely; There’ll be a rainbow by and by. For haven't you noticed quite often That, tho the storms he fierce and not few, There’s always a silver lining With a rainbow a-peeping thru? So smile tho your heart be heavy, And laugh, but do not frown, For there are better times coming And the sun will be shining down. —Louise Ruestow ’26. AUTUMN'S END 1 gazed from my window one chilly mom, As I lay cozily tucked in bed; The sky was a cold, dull, bluish gray. And the tree tops were leafless, and dead. The wind was howling, a dismal sound, The dead branches swayed to ami fro, And I wondered what secrets they whispered then That men should never know. And 1 thought of the summer that had seemed to pass Just a day or two ago, Anil of Autumn, speedily winging her way To a land that we do not know . And then, while I gazed, a white flake sped by, Then more, as though dancing in fun, Till the ground was covered with glistening white, And I knew that Winter had come. —Marguerite Heydweiller '27. THE BATTLE At night, when snuggled down in bed With covers tucked about my head, The armies of the day go by To be reviewed with inward eye. The smiles and quirks which pass that way Are all bedecked in proud array, While frowns and sulks with downcast eyes Slink by, with sullen and sloppy files. I look them over, up and down, And count the smile, and note the frown, And wonder which of the forces will win— A sullen look, or cheerful grin. The battle's fought, the smiles have won I The frowns are going on the run. And I turn to sleep the whole night through To prepare on the morrow my troops for review. —Arlene VanDerhoef '27. 8

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THE WITAN Three distinct types, all perfumed and appearing at their best, but always our thoughts wander back to the girl in the garden with her deli- cate lavender. We do hope he” ap- preciates it as much as we do. —Helen Marks '26. AN ADVENTURE ON THE HILL The old oak tree had stood for hundreds of years on the top of the hill and was beginning to be a bit bored with life in general. He knew every dip in the land, every tree and shrub, every bend of the little brook that rippled by near the foot of his hill. Nothing ever came near him ex- cept the cows, and it can hardly be considered interesting to see a bunch of lazy cows lolling about chewing their respective cuds. Even the cows were gone now, for it was midwinter, two days after Christmas, to be exact. But this afternoon he suddenly straightened up his branches and stared. Could that be people, honest- to-goodness people, coming toward him? It was, and he soon discerned two hoys and a little girl. The Traber twins, with their little sister Alice, were staying during the holidays with Grandma Parker. They had exhausted all means of amuse- ment near the house, and today had strayed farther and farther with their two big sleds, in search of good hills for sledding. • “There’s a peach of a hill over there!” exclaimed Dick, the wild twin. “See, that one with the big tree on top. Let’s go over.’ ‘It's kind of far,” suggested Alice, timidly, looking back at the half mile of fields between them and the farm- house. “It isn’t so very far, Sis. Tired? We’ll pull you,” said Bob, the quiet twin. Alice was partly appeased, so they plodded on through the drifts. The hill proved to be even better than their expectations. It sloped just enough to suit Alice in one place. while further on was quite steep. The snow was well packed and a thick crust had formed on top. It was ideal. They spent a merry half hour, slid- ing frontwards, backwards, sitting, standing, lying flat—any way—the boys taking turns on the easy slope with Alice. Dick began to feel quite reckless. The accustomed ways of sliding no longer held any charm for him. “I want some regular excitement,” he said at last. He got it. Upon investigating the other side of the hill, which had until now been forgotten, he found his ideal of a hill. It was considerably steeper than the first side, and half way down it stopped abruptly for several yards, forming a jump, the height of Dick’s desire. The first time he went down he landed in a drift before he reached the jump. The second time was the last. He flew at a terrible rate over the crisp snow. At the jump he lost control of the sled. On and on he aped. It was great fun—until he sud- denly noticed that he was headed straight for the brook! And still he sped on. Crash! Through the bushes. Splash! Into the brook. The old tree groaned. Alice screamed, and Boh jumped forward on his sled to the rescue. And Dick ? He had the surprise of his young life. When his head ap- peared above water, another head ap- peared next to him and he looked straight into the astonished eyes of another boy! Dick couldn't believe his senses, and proceeded to make for shore. The other hoy did the same and when Bob arrived on the scene, he found two shivering boys staring at each othc»r. “Who under the sun are you?’ gasped the three at once. Then Bob came to his senses. “Never mind who we are. Here, Dick, you pile into my coat, and you put on my sweater and both of you run to Grandma's. And keep running! Don’t you dare stop or you’ll freeze.’’ The boys welcomed the dry coat and sweater anil started out at a brisk 7

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THE WITAN TOMORROW’S ASSIGNMENT “Tomorrow’s assignment said the teacher, and waited for the noise to subside, “is to write an essay, on any- thing you wish- “Hmm ' remarked Archibald to himself, and repeated iL He always did this when he began to think. He also gazed owlishly at nothing when he thought, which he was now doing. The boy was not trying to think of what to write. Oh, no. Archibald was a very deep thinker, he could write an essay on almost anything, but his main trouble lay in trying to decide on a subject. After a full minute of meditation he said to himself: “Supposing I write something about airplanes. Hmm. No, that's too far over my head. (Long pause.) Well, how about submarines That’s a pretty deep subject. ’ Thus his thoughts rambled on, first one thing and then another and then both being given over for something else, until at last on the verge of despair, he told himself he must take a rest before he could think any more. Fifteen minutes really was a long time for Archibald to think, all at one stretch. As he leaned back to rest—pop! The big idea struck him. He would write an essay on candles. Ah, that was it, just it—candles. “Now, let’s see,” said he to him- self, “a candle is composed of string and wax. The string being called a wick and the wax—wax. Hmm. It bums, giving off light and heat. That’s all 1 know about candles. I must needs make a trip to the li- brary.’ After supper he started for the library. Then thinking he might need his library card, turned about and re- entered the house. Going to the table drawer he looked for h;s card hut couldn't find it. “Has anyone seen my library card?' he asked. There was no reply. “I wish you folks would leave my stuff where I set it down, said Archi- bald, becoming irritated at the delay thus caused. “Ever tried remembering where you set it down? ' asked his sister sweetly. Then a hot argument ensued which ended when Archibald jammed his hand into his pocket and discovered his card therein. Again Archibald set out, feeling ;ather squelched 'tis true and conse- quently not in good humor. How- ever, his new trouble was soon given over for the old one, ie, his essay. So deeply immersed was he in his thoughts that when he entered the library he forgot to remove his hat. The librarian, however, reminded him of this deficiency of his memory. Af- ter thoughtfully gazing at nothing for a minute or two he approached the shelves containing the reference books. “Hmm, said he to himself, “a candle is composed of string and wax. I will see what I can find under ‘string in the encyclopedia. Of course he found nothing of value to him. Slightly disappointed and feeling baffled, he looked under ‘wax.’ Here he found, among other things, that it was sometimes used in making candles, and, see Volume II, page .3002. “Oh, v s ’ said he. and as urual, to himself, “why didn’t I think of that before ? He found Volume II, page 3002, without much difficulty, the main dif- ficulty being in getting it down from its high rhelf. »n the process of which it came into violent contact with his nose. He found what he wanted and took down a few notes in a note-book, feel- ing that he had enough to fill a news- paper. After several unsuccessful attempts to replace the book on its shelf, he gave it up and went home. “At last ’ said he to himself, “I will write my essay. Laying pen, paper, and eraser on the desk before him, he opened his note-hook and gazed at it. Gazed (Continued on page 22) 9