Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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 Qt; (S1 C3f£) 5 t dT' S1 mT ( ) | LITERARY DEPARTMENT T I Beauty’s Taire Morty wanted it! Wanted it so much his one track mind was surprised it could think so intensely. How to get it was the question churning itself in his head. Morty sat on his back porch and gazed at the object of his longing. Then he arose and paced back and forth and pondered. It did him no good. He just had to have immediate action. Well, now, let’s see. Maybe if he went to them and asked for it they would give it to him. No. that wouldn’t do; it had been in the family too long; they would never part with it. Perhaps he could steal it. But how could he steal a thing as big as that? And then, the police would be after him. A person that steals is put in jail for a long time. Who would come to see him if he were imprisoned? No one, because he had stolen something valuable; no one would care for him. No one cared much about him anyway. Oh, what did it matter? They didn’t amount to anything. Let them do as they wished. ‘T will steal it, I will, tonight,” he decided. There, it was all settled. He would steal it tonight regardless of dif- ficulties or consequences. Night came, and Morty, armed with the necessary implements, set out across his back yard to where Tad and Ella Laine lived. He crept noiselessly around the house to see if everyone was asleep. Listen! Was that a foot- step? He drew up into a shadow and looked behind. No, evidently he imag- ined it. On he went, peeking into win- dow’s. At the back of the house he jumped back startled. A light! Be- neath that door! Why, where did it go? It was there a minute ago. There it is again! Ah, ha, that is funny— just the street light behind that large maple tree. Everything looks all right, but it might not be. “Well, I'll have to take a chance anyway. Have to be awfully quiet to get away without dis- covery.” Finally assured, he went to his task with a will. Hauling and tugging he finally arrived home with it. Since he had that afternoon decided where he would put it, he had soon finished. He went happily off to bed, his mind at rest. Waking once before daybreak, he sat up quickly wondering if he had only dreamed of his possession. No, out in the kitchen lay his implements for work. It was not a dream! it was reality. He sighed contentedly and fell asleep again. When the first rays of the morning sun crept into his room, he awoke. Wheel 1 have it now. I wonder what they’ll do about it. Oh, 1 don’t care. Yippee! It’s mine.” How beautiful it was. Gorgeous thing, at last it was his alone. His eyes shone as he leaped out of bed. Pulling on his shoes (he hadn’t both- ered to undress the night before) he went out to look at that thing of beauty he owned at last. There, the beauty he had admired the day before had flown, and it had be- come a poor, sad. wilted, lilac bush. Elinore Raymond, ’32. 28

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 T ? ( 1 “1910” in f ® t $ f) 11 ® ® if t, f Thirty-eight of Mr. Butterfield's former teachers held a reunion dinner in his honor at the home of Miss Ella A. Tiernan un Lake Avenue on May G. The out-of-town guests included: Mr. and Mrs. Charles W. Hamilton, Mrs. Christine Pride Abbott, Mrs Katherine Cummings Dalton, Mrs. Gene- vieve Blackford Wildey ami Mrs. Mary Conley Phalen. This picture represents six of the thirteen teachers who were working in the school during Mr. Butterfield's first year, 1910: Miss Pride, Miss Tiernan. Miss Cum- mings, Miss Blackford, Miss O’Brien and Miss Bemish. 27

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TUE WITAN The Lake The cold winter had ended at last, the slushy snow had been washed away by the recent rain storm and naw was the time to see the lake at its best. As I approached I could see a great line in the distance where the sky and the water seemed to meet. The day was rather windy and the whitecaps came rolling in, and broke on the shore with a thundering sound. Every now and then, it brought with it a dead fish or a piece of drift wood, thus adding to the little pile along the shore. As I stood watching the lake, dark- ness crept over the land and the moon came out to add her beauty to the water. One beautiful ray fell over the water and the rest of the lake was in darkness. The silence was broken only by the continual swish of the waves on the shore. Ella Rea(ron, '33. Traveling Alone One afternoon 1 didn’t know what to do so I went out for a walk. I ended up at my cousin's house After having eaten my supper and played cards until about eleven o'clock. 1 finally decided to start for home. My cousin asked me to stay all night, hut I decided to It was pitch dark outside when I started on my journey. About a quar- ter of a mile from my cousin’s house I came to a graveyard. If 1 went through it, my journey would be about a mile, whereas if I went by the road it would be almost three miles. So, trying to tell myself I wasn't afraid, I decided to go through the graveyard. I walked through the gateway — it creaked so loud that I thought if there were such things as ghosts, it would awake them all. I walked between the many head- stones until 1 heard a moaning sound. Trying to tell myself it was only my imagination, I walked on, while the noise grew louder and louder. I looked up and what should I see but a white thing in the path ahead of me. My heart beat like a trip hammer. The wind started to blow and the pine tree above me whined and howled. But what was the white thing? It must be a ghost. It moved. Upon seeing me it jumped up and seemed to fly through the air, close to the ground. All I could see was a white streak, going like the wind. Still telling myself it was my imagination, I walked on. Finally 1 reached the place where the thing had been. I felt the ground; it was warm. 1 began to run hut it seemed I couldn't run fast enough. Crash! Bang! Oh! what was that? A big lump came in my throat and I couldn't swallow. I looked all around me but no ghost could I see. My legs felt better and I hurried on. I was nearing the gate on the opposite side when the white thing again appeared. It was lying in the gateway of the graveyard, guarding it, I thought. My head seemed to get bigger and bigger and began to ache. The thing saw me and began to run. It ran through the graveyard and around be- hind me. I dashed through the gate- way and slammed the gate so the white thing couldn’t get out. I ran along the road beside the grave- yard. There was a box outside the wall. What was it? Oh! it’s a rough box, I concluded. As 1 came nearer and passed it, I looked over my shoulder and the lid of the box was suddenly raised. “Hey! what time is it, buddy?” I heard a sleepy voice call. I ran as fast as I could without stopping to answer whomever called. Finally I reached home. The doors were all locked but I found my key in my pocket and went in. 1 went to bed and dreamed of ghosts the whole night long. The next morning 1 was told that someone had locked the neighbor’s white mule in the graveyard, and many tomb- stones were overturned and broken. Also, a tramp had been found sleeping in a rough box outside the graveyard gate! Arthur Hogan, 33.