Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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by melody from human lips? After solving this problem in his mind by quickly considering all facts of the case, he decided to act at once. Accordingly he clambered down from the safety of the oak tree and faced the bear, who sat licking his chops nearby. Thus he began his solo. Such melody rang forth through the forest as had never rung be- fore or will ever ring again. It was a melody which might be discussed freely by the public if the public had strong will power enough to listen to it; in fact it might be discussed too freely in another language (used mostly by men). When the professor finished, and gasped for breath, he saw a strange spectacle before him. Upon the grass lay two rattlesnakes lulled to sleep by his musical charm; nearby a wolf snored, resting his head against a tree trunk. In the brook fishes floated unconscious upon the water, and bullfrogs were stretched lazily upon the sand. All were asleep but the bear, who sat respectfully upon his hind legs nearby. Once more, the professor began, this time selecting opera for his melody. As he sang, his whole soul burst forth, likewise his lungs. When he had finished his masterpiece he looked down to see the snakes sneaking stealthily into the nearby grasses, the wolf slinking into the neighboring woods, the fishes hiding themselves among the rocks and the bullfrogs diving into the muddy depths of the brook. The bear alone sat motionless. The professor advanced slowly and touched him. The bear toppled over, still motionless upon the grass—he was dead! The sight dimmed, blackness appeared and then he awoke to find himself bending over a porch chair, which he had pushed off the porch. His wife declared he must be a crazy man because he had risen in his slumber and tried to sing in a queer voice. Upon retrieving his scattered senses, he imported to his wife that never would he eat two pieces of apple pie for dinner again. D. COLLESTER. UAAAAA A TXT Page Ten

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THE PROFESSOR HE professor was a short, thick-set man; built not after the fashion of a modern skyscraper, but more like a medieval tower, for solidity and endurance. Lying in a hammock, after his luncheon, he relaxed his brain, weary after the semester’s exertion, and thereupon slept. Thence, he found himself traveling away o’er wooded highlands upon his first bear hunt. Having rested upon his shoulder a heavy, horn-barreled shotgun, and straddling a weak, worn out donkey, he ad- vanced. Miles and miles he sped on, passing deserts, marshes, rivers and mountains. Upon approaching a canyon, he spread the donkey’s legs, twisted his tail and cried, “Advance!” The donkey leaped swiftly into space, and treading air he advanced speedily to the other side. He landed safely and rode on. Finally he arrived at a great forest. Here our worthy colleague dismounted, and from his pocket took a can of molasses. He opened it and placed it upon a nearby rock. He remounted once more and waited, day-dreaming, for his bear to approach. Suddenly his day-dream ceased. In one horrible moment he was tossed into the air as if by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Upon alight- ing, he quickly clasped an oak tree in his grasp and looked about to see the cause of his misfortune. Upon the ground a short distance away, a bear, a great black bear, was smelling of his gun and placidly licking the trigger, while his donkey was speedily vamoosing into a nearby thicket. What should he do—where should he flee ? That was the problem. He meditated solemnly for five minutes, during which time the bear had digested the molasses, and finally a brilliant idea burst upon his fertile gray matter. The professor had seen rattlesnakes tamed by a flute; why should not a bear be tamed Page Nine

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BILLY’S MISTAKE NE—two—three—four—five—six—seven! sounded the grand- father clock, and presently from the kitchen mother called: “Billy—oh, Billy—it’s time you were up!” Billy turned over and sleepily rubbed his big blue eyes, feeling the need of some sort of a prop with wrhich to make them stay open. “Say, what day is this?” he asked himself. “What dreadful event is going to happen today?” The sight of his school books, reposing on his desk chair, and particularly that of a large geography book, served to refresh his memory. “Oh—the geography match,” he exclaimed. “Oh, how I wish I didn’t have to go to school. Well—I won’t go, that’s all. But, oh dear, mother won’t let me stay home just because Miss Clark is going to give a geography quiz. She won’t ever let me stay home unless I’m sick. Well, I’ll be sick today.” “Billy, are you up? I want you to go to the store before school. Billy, answer me!” There was no answer from above. So presently steps were heard ascending the stairs. The door was opened and mother stood amazed on the threshold. “Why, Billy, you’re not even up—and just the morning when I needed you, too.” “Oh, oh,” groaned Billy, tossing from one side to the other of his little white bed, “I’m so sick I don’t know what to do.” “Why, what is the matter? Why didn’t you call me? Do you feel very sick? Where is the pain?” Thus mother queried as she stroked the curly head. Poor Billy attempted to answer, but not knowing just how to pro- ceed, renewed his groaning and moaning. “Well,” said mother, “I guess you need a good dose of castor oil. Then if you’re not better, we’ll send for the doctor.” “Ugh,” thought Billy, “Castor oil! Anyway, that’s lots better than a geography match.” After the medicine had been administered, mother left him in order to prepare breakfast for the other members of her family. Then Billy very slyly crawled out of bed and tiptoed over to his desk, from which he took a large story book entitled “Pirates at Sea.” Next, he crawled back into bed and proceeded to enjoy himself with his book. He heard Page Eleven