Dover High School - Tiger Yearbook (Dover, NJ)

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THE TIGER will come from our reading if we do this. We would not wish to make a friend of everyone we meet in daily life. Our books should be selected with as much care as our friends for books are friends. At the present time, one of the greatest enemies to be met with is the circulation of books which are as wolves in sheep’s clothing-and are the messenger of evil from cover to cover. Each person should be guided in a course of reading which would be most profitable to him. It has been said that it is of great importance to acquire the art not to read every book that is popular with the masses. One writer has said, “He who writes for fools finds an enormous audience.” If we read well the standard books, books which have stood the test of time, we will not care a great deal for the “popular seller.” The man of one book, who has learned a lesson of life from this book, is better equipped in knowledge than the man whose book shelves are filled with fashionable literature, books bound with gilt letters whose pages have not even been cut. John Ruskin, the English writer says: “A common book will often give you much amusement but it is only a noble book which will give you dear friends.” ......................D. Lariviere. Threads of Destiny Bang! crash! Silence.............James Courtney Walker, only son and child of Rutherford Bayne Walker, steel King, stirred and opened his eyes. Hm! what a queer scene-trees, fields, sky, and cattle in pastures, all were whirling in a circle at a great rate. “Ah! it was getting clearer now, oh yes, that brown and white cow was in a pasture on the hill over there, instead of up in the sky— well...........“Wow!” with a jump Jimmy came to. He was in for it now. This was the third car he had wrecked since he finished college and the pater had warned him that if he got into any more trouble speeding he would cut him off without a cent.....The pater was a good sport by....Say where did that bang- ed-up motorcycle come from?—now he remembered, that blinking cop had chased him and he had collided with him at the corner, all cops were like that, dumb and....Great Scott! ! ! with a cry of terror Jimmy leaped from the wreckage of what was once his racer and ran stumbling to a prostrate figure, ten feet from the motorcycle ........not once did it stir; the world turned black, Jimmy’s heart froze with terror......He was a bad disobedient boy, he was (in a harsh choked voice he whispered it)......a murderer! He had killed the fly cop! Oh! he hadn’t meant it, he hadn’t meant it. Quick, he must fly.....the police would know, would come, he, James Courtney Walker would be sent to the chair. Jimmy gave a wild glance around, no one was l’age 20

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THE TIGER the mixture into miniature rolling pins, baked them carefully over hot coals and then declared them ready to serve with mustard. After having it elucidated, that this food contained nothing but pure fresh vegetables, Captain Snow proved so venturesome as to take one of the so called “wienies,” cut off a small piece, dip it into mustard and after a moment of hesitation, shoved it into his mouth. Between the first mouthful and the second Captain Snow somehow found a moment in which to exclaim, “It’s hot but dog by cats it’s----,” the remainder of the sentence was lost, due to the Captain’s absorption in transferring a second piece of “wienie” to his mouth. By the frequent smacks of delight the other members of the company soon gathered that the stuff was not half bad. Captain Raner was the first to follow Snow’s example. The former cut off a generous slice of “wienie”, dipped it into mustard and ate it with enjoyment. Hans, noting Captain Raner’s facial expression said, “You like hot dog and cat too?” From that day Hans Knoper’s fortune was made. The fame of “hot dog and cat” (later reduced to “hot dog” for brevity’s sake) spread so that a meat concern bought the recipe from Mrs. Knoper until now “hot dogs” is a nationally known product. When feeling the need of nourishment, what in the world is better than to sink one’s teeth in- to the white layers of bread and then to bite into the delicious juicy richness of the “hot dog”? Or to sit before a camp fire and toast a “wienie” on the end of a forked twig until the juice bursts the skin, creating a full-fledged “hot dog” and to spread mustard to one’s heart’s content. I remember in my youth to have heard a mock debate on the subject of whether a “hot dog” renders a better flavor when o’erspread with chili sauce or when smothered in mustard. The debaters argued with such ardor and eloquence that the mouths of the judges began to water, whereupon these beings invested with judicial powers demanded a “hot dog” before rendering a decision. But alas! judgment upon this topic was never given, for upon the request of the judges there arose, amongst the debaters, the vital question as to whether the “hot dogs” should be accompanied by mustard or chili sauce. ......................Jennie Goldstein Thoughts on Books It is said that “books are the window’s through which the soul looks out.” Our characters are judged by the books we read. What shall we read? This is one of the great questions of the educated men and women of today. Wherever we may go, plenty of books are to be had for the asking, but should we read everything that is offered us? We may readily see that little good l }»g« 1!)

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THE TIGER on the lonely country road, and with one plunge he cleared a low stone wall and started across a lonely stretch of fields, keeping near every small clump of bushes. For a half mile Jimmy traveled so, in the depths of a black despair, his brain half dazed, his senses alert to every foreign sound. Then there came a distant rumble and the shriek of a far-off whistle and Jimmy knew that a railroad was near-by. Now was his chance, he must fly, he the criminal must leave the scene of his crime and quickly. From a small hill he observed a tank and knew that the train would stop at it for water. He scurried down the hill and flattened himself behind a bush, awaiting developments. Soon a slow freight lumbered into view and came to a grinding stop before the tank. With a swift movement Jimmy made for a car, and settled his unaccustomed form......on the breakers! With a few groans and one or two yanks the train of destiny in the guise of a puffing freight pulled out with Jimmy, the fugitive, on board-er-that is, under board. Poor Jimmy, the first mile nearly killed him, a thousand cinders flew in his eyes, his face and clothes grew grimy and every bone in him screeched for mercy at each succeeding bump. Still Jimmy hung on for the simple reason that he must. The further away he went the better. The train rolled on and on far into the night with our hero suffering tortures unknown. But there is an ending to all things, good and bad and so at four o’clock in the morning the train stopped for more water and Jimmy roiled off into the brush until it passed on. Dawn was just beginning to break and sundry birds were cheeping. Jimmy staggered along for a few hundred feet forward and slept as one drugged. He awoke at about eleven o’clock and lying there looking up at the beautiful blue of the sky he started to plan a course of action. A few minutes later he began walking and kept on until he came to a brook. He then fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to scrub the grime from his face with it. Next he brushed and thumped his clothes and flattered his curls into a semblance of smoothness, after which he set off again. He passed a few farm houses which continued to grow closer together the longer he walked. Finally Jimmy came to the heart of a medium sized town. The moment he saw it he loved it. Everything looked so homely, and yet business like too. With what money he had left, Jimmy purchased a hat and some breakfast, and then with his money giving out he knew he must go to work. Work! He would have enjoyed this mad experience, if only that cop had not—oh he must forget or go mad. It was seeing the Post Office first that gave him the idea. That night he secured a room from a sweet and frail old widow and learned from Page 21