Eastern High School - Punch and Judy Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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rhea LE, The PASTERNER I'esruary, 1025 Pace 10 ne Man The Valenti Valentines! and plenty of hearts, d’s darts— “Valentines! Little rhymes : Lacy paper and eupl A ” Valentines? Valentines? g a group of an old man ealled, approachin “Say!” wares. ‘‘What’s that suppos' he pointed to a great red card. “A heart, sir,’”’? the old man answered eagerly. “Shades of Miss Wilkins! If that’s a heart. “Miss Wilkins mightn’t ree but the flappers—they can spot ‘em a off. And look at the rhyme: ; “ “Give me your heart, and you take mine— Ever to be my valentine.’ ” “Tt’s about time somebody discovered a new rhyme for ‘valentine,’ ’? F-—— I—— put in cynically, as G—— seemed too wrapped in thought for reply. ““There’s nothing pleases them so much as ‘valentine,’’’ the old ognize it, SIT, mile 5 ‘mine’ rhymed with man returned sagely. ‘‘Why that combina- tion has ruined more rivals!” “Rivals,’? F—— murmured. “Yes, ‘rivals.’ Why listen,” and bringing up a cluster of eypresses blossoming with hearts, he read: ‘What means a heart an’ a valentine, Dearest since you have broken mine?”’ “IT don’t see any sense to that,’’ J—— objected. “Oh, but the other gentleman does,” chuckled the old man. ‘“‘Just such a yalen- tine, and then a call, and—but then,’’ he added quickly as J. grew impatient, “‘for them as don’t like quarrels, here’s the thing.” “What is it?’’ asked J—— The old man drew out a picture of two turtle doves, with this inscription: H “My house, My hand, my heart are thing Tf thou wilt be my yalentine.’’ «why there’s not a heart on that one)» j— cried. “Oh, no. Its ‘sweets to the sweet’ but He ‘red to the rusty,’ and hearts is red go te jus’ put them in the verse instead of the wate. ture.” : s “Hum! Theres a heart in that yerse » murmured thoughtfully. a B— put in, 2 « Awful verses,’ J « Awful yerses?’’ the old man exclaimed, “He ought to know,’’ G remarked ‘You should see some of the stuff he’s writ. ten.” “T hope, Mr. G Cael ‘stuff? in the newspaper sense of the ,’’ J— said, mean word.”’ G— loftily nodded ‘‘of course,’’ as he didn’t want to show his ignorance of what the newspaper sense of the word was, and then proke in, ‘“‘here’s what you want, “ ‘J sing of you, O maid divine, I sing of my darling valentine!’ ’” What’s that white thing there?’”? J— asked. “cThat’s the lyre you sing with,’’ the old man explained. j What’s the good of a compliment if you send a lyre with it?’’ J—— asked. “That’s a question, but the ladies never ask it. Liars come sorta natural to them.”’ The boys were all deep in thought; so he strolled on ence more calling his song, “‘Valentines! Valentines! Little rhymes and plenty of hearts, Lacy paper and cupid’s darts. Valentines? Valentines?”’ . = = . 2 An hour later I met the old gentleman in the halls. I looked at his tray aghast. Where was the unbiological heart, the cluster of (Continued on page 28)

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Frsruary, 1925 ASENATH L. “They're coming, Henry! They’re com- ing! Lie low, for God’s sake!’’ The sibilant whisper of John Cummings, first mate of the Plymouth Town broke the stillness of the hold. “Thanks, sir,’’ came the barely perceptible answer, muffled by the thickness of the sides of one of the water casks. Slowly and outwardly composed, John walked toward the ladder that led to the deck on which the measured cadence of soldiers marching could already be heard. A sudden shadow made him look up. “Why Wedderspoon,”’ he called heartily in ferman to the sergeant whose head peering down the opened hatch had caused the dark- ening of the hold. ‘‘ What a pleasure! What do you say to a game of pinochle and a stein of beer?”’ “This is no time for beer!’’ the other an- swered. ‘‘We want that boy first. Come now, Cummings, give him up.’’ “The boy?’’ John asked in well feigned bewilderment. ‘‘The cabin boy?’’ “Nein! The Heinrich Valter,’’ the ser- geant replied, consulting his warrant. “‘He’s supposed to be trying for America, and he was last seen headed this way. Now are you going to give hin up and save yourself a long trip to prison or must I find him?’’ “Heinrich Valter?”’ the mate said perplex- edly. ‘‘No, I don’t know anyone by that name, but he may be a stowaway. You may look.’” “May look indeed!’’ Wedderspoon roared with laughter. ‘‘May look!’ He made a deep mocking bow. ‘‘I must humbly thank you, sir, for your unparalleled goodness,’’ he said; and then he added, closely watching John’s face, ‘‘ We'll start here, then! Spread out. Look behind and examine each suspici- ous cask,’’ and he set them an example by so vigorously examining the nearest one that he spilled half of its contents. The KLASTERNER In Days of Old Graves, '25 “ Sergeant!’’ the mate cried, horrified, for the water supply in 1840 was an important matter on the trip from Hamburg to New York. Wedderspoon only replied with a derisive laugh, but he contented himself with less forceful demonstrations after that. Hardly able to restrain himself, John followed him as he went up the first row of casks, drawing ever nearer to the one in which Henry was hidden. Only five casks away! Wedderspoon knocked off the top, and looked with disgust at the green water in it. Four casks away! Another top off. “Phaw! Do you drink this stuff?’’ he queried as he passed on to the next. That one he only knocked with the stock of his gun to prove its fullness. Two casks away! Again he passed by with but a rap. Surely he would open the next and then—the boy! ““Phew!’? Wedderspoon exclaimed drop- ping his gun to the floor, ‘‘warm work!”’ Lazily he seated himself on that very cask in which Henry was crouching. The mate gasped, and watched him, fasei- nated, as he called directions to his men. Had he only known that his own tasseled boots swung within two inches of his quarry! John shuddered at the thought. He must not let him suspect. “What's this Vanter—is that the name ?— done?’’ he asked. ““Valter,’’ Wedderspoon corrected. ‘‘He evaded conscription. Claims he’s English.”’ “English,’’ echoed the mate desperately fighting for control. “Yes. His mother was English and his father, who was born a German, lived in Eng- land all his life. Young Valter was born there, but he came over here to live with some kin when his parents died. He was con- seripted—first draft of his age. He tried to crawfish out of it, did everything but pay a (Continued on page 29)

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Frsruary, 1925 The HASTERNER College and Campus (This is the second of a serles of articles on colleges offering scholarships to Eas tern.) BUFF AND BLUE When one mentions George Washington University, we think of our own “home”? col- lege to which so many of our friends go. We are so ¢lose to it, in fact, that we do not re- alize its true greatness. Founded in 1821, co-educational, and non- sectarian in nature, it is one of the best uni- versities in the South Atlantic district. It is not a poor, struggling institution as it is some- times pictured. Recently a million dollar en- dowment fund drive was undertaken, and proved successful. As a result, Corcoran Hall and the G. W. Gym have been erected Other buildings are under construction. The university boasts of the large number of its 5,000 students who work during the day and attend college at night. The night classes rank the same scholastically as the day classes. Another advantage besides its proximity to Washingtonians, is the large number of na- tional, and even international celebrities whom the university secures to deliver lec- tures from time to time. George Washington offers a number of courses which it advertises in THE EASTERNER day and attend college at night. The night ing, architecture, medicine, pharmacy, and law. The Eastern High School diploma is suf- ficient for admission. Each year, however, seven scholarships are offered to the high schools of the District, the Kendall being the highest. The other six are of equal value, but are not so famous. Those students who take the competitive scholarship examinations, held the latter part of May, are excused from school during the examination week. Coach- in g classes have already been formed in many of the studies required, and anyone desiring further information on the subject may ob- tain it from Miss Hawes in Room 101. Clarke Robb won a scholarship in ’23 an@ Marie Kroll was a winner last year. Hastern hopes to take the Kendall scholarship this year. Two of Hastern’s teachers, Miss Arnold and Mr. Haworth, went to George Washington on scholarships won here at Eastern. SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY (As described In a letter from a student to his cousin) Dersr Mar@arer: Do you mean to say you are still hesitating between Syracuse and an all-girls’ college? After all my explaining too, about how good Syracuse really is! I admit it doesn’t go in much for dead languages and all that stuff, but it has as good an arts course as you can find anywhere. Girls from all over the East- ern States come here for drawing, painting, history of art, and so forth. It offers a peach of a musical course, too; so you won’t have to drop your ‘‘dee-dee-deeing’’ while you are here. Syracuse has just about the right number of students for a university, six thousand, (big enough to be good in all scholastic and sport contests, and not big enough to lose its school spirit). There are almost as many boys as girls beeause the New York State School of Forestry is here, which is mighty attractive to the boys, since besides being one of the best schools of its kind in the country, its tuition is free. Then a lot of them come as I did for the medical course which has a fine reputation. If you like sororities and fraternities and that stuff, you'll find branches of all the good ‘nationals’’ here. In fact, almost everybody but the greenest freshmen lives in one of the “‘houses.”’ Why, Margaret,- since Eastern offers a scholarship every year to Syracuse you’d be foolish not to try for one, and more foolish still not to come here anyway. Love from your cousin, Dick.