Goshen Central High School - Yearbook (Goshen, NY)

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THE PIONEER ;j apart, the first being merely a little target practice that did no harm, the second inflicting a serious wound. But there was no time to coach Gustave anew. Said the lawyer: “What were you doing when the first shot was fired?” “I was sitting in the kitchen gnawing a chicken hone,” said Gustave. “And what were you doing when the second shot was fired? Be careful how you answer.” “I was sitting in the kitchen,” said he, “gnawing that same chicken bone.” Not a Rehearsal. The inquisitive man saw a hearse start away from a house at the head of a funeral procession. “Who’s dead?” he asked the corner grocer, who was standing in his door watching the funeral start. “Chon Schmidt,” answered the grocer. “John Smith!” exclaimed the other. “You don’t mean to say John Smith is dead ?’ ’ “Veil, py golly,” rejoined the grocer, “vot you dink dey doing mit him—practicing, hey?”—New York World. A Way of Getting Even. Hewitt—When I asked the old man for his daughter’s hand he walked all over me. Jewett—Can’t you have him arrested for violation of the traffic regulations?— New York Press. In the Kindergarten. Teacher—What comes after “t,” Ruth? Ruth—The fellow what’s going to marry my sister Jane. Wanted Ads. Wanted—A man—Jane Coleman. Only fat men need apply. Wanted—Silence—Miss Murry. But you don’t always get what you want. Wanted—Someone to listen to me talk— “Pete” Smith. Wanted—A girl—Willis Marsh. Wanted—A voice—Margretta Farley. Wanted—Special rates to Neely town— Donald Parker. Wanted—A chance to debate—Mae Carr. Wanted—A “cicero” pony—Earl Roosa. Wanted—Stolen Banner—One stolen by Class ’10. Wanted—Some life—Junior Class. Wanted—Something to make me stop laughing—Bertha S. Wanted—Another election—Junior Class. Wanted—The right to talk without restriction—Harriette H. Wanted—A few girls to jolly—Joe Lewis. Wanted—Some one to listen to my jokes —Elma Abrams. Wanted—A little more “avoirdupois”— Saver Seely. Wanted—Position as Physics teacher— —“Pete” Smith. It must be nice to know “it” all. Wanted—“Order, please”—Miss Hunter. Wanted—A little more patience—Roswell Purdy. Little boy: “Teacher, what is a Junior?” Teacher: “A Junior, my boy, it is a small person with a very large head, the scope of whose mind embraces every thing commonly within the range of human comprehension, and those things which it does not embrace it can readily guess at.”

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4 TIIE PIONEER Chicago Englishmen. Every time one of them would tell a good American story at which most of the party would laugh uproariously this particular Englishman would adjust his monocle to his eye and, looking wonderingly around the table, would remark, “But, I say, I don’t see anything in that to laugh at, y’ knaw.” One of the Chicago men finally recited an original poem. The poem told of an Englishman who had come to America and after being in this country only a short time had died and gone to another and much warmer country. Ten years passed, and one day an imp passing that way heard the Englishman laughing uproariously. “Why, what are you laughing at?” inquired the imp. “Oh, oh, oh, such a funny story as I heard in America. Oh, it was so funny!” laughed the victim, and he held his hands to his sides and almost doubled up with merriment. “A story you heard! Why, you’ve heard no story,” said the imp. “You’ve been dead ten years.” “Yes, yes, I know, I know,” cried the man. “But I’ve just seen the joke.” This poem set the table in a roar. Amid all the laughing and shouting the obtuse visitor adjusted his monocle and drawled out, “But, I say, I don’t see anything funny in that, y’ knaw.” “No,” replied the man who had read the poem, as quick as a flash. “Of course you don’t. You haven’t been dead ten years.” And even the obtuse Englishman saw the point. Wifey Fixed It. A young storekeeper who had failed the previous day was so diffident about meeting his creditors that he gave his wife the following instructions: “Now, Marie, if any one rings, you answer the door and tell them that I’m not in. I’ll hide.” Nor had he long to wait until a loud jangling of the bell assured him that an irate creditor stood at the door. It was only a reporter, however. “I wish to speak to your husband.” “But he isn’t in,” protested the woman. “Well, I understand,” said the reporter, getting out his notebook and pencil, “that he is insolvent.” “Oh, yes,” cried his wife, a happy inspiration seizing her. “He went over there on the 2:40 train yesterday, and I don’t expect him back until tomorrow.” —Lippincott’s. A Substantial Bone. So many witnesses had queered his client’s cases by swearing that the shots they had heard in a shooting affair were only thirty seconds apart that when pressed to tell what they were doing when each report was heard, naming actions so dissimilar that it must have taken at least ten minutes to switch from one to the other, the criminal lawyer swore that he would maintain consistency above all things in bis latest case. Gustave, the Swedish janitor, had heard two shots fired at the injured man, and the lawyer impressed upon him the importance of swearing that he was engaged at the same task at each shot. In the course of the trial it was brought out that the shots had been fired a month

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(i THE PIONEER Junior Charge. Dear Juniors: OW that we have come to the parting of the ways in the old High School paths which we have trodden so near together, we are minded to leave with you a few words of wisdom and advice. May we express the hope that you will heed them carefully, taking them as guide posts on the steep and thorny way, the difficulties of which are so little realized by your youthful, innocent minds? The eventful days of our Senior school lives are passing rapidly. But a short time and the places that knew us, will know us as students no more, forever. Then you will have laid upon your shoulders the great responsibility of setting the pace for the school and an example to the younger students. You will be the first Senior class in the new High School, the first to graduate from its now unfinished walls. May the example of the last class to graduate from the old High School inspire you with ambition and courage. May the hallowed memories of our work, our struggles, and our success be carried with you into the stately halls which you will inhabit and have a moulding influence upon your career. Try to deserve the honor of being the “pioneer” class of the new building. Try to incite a fine, high spirit in the school life and to show yourselves as studious and as obedient to and thoughtful of the Faculty as we have been. Try above all things to avoid class disputes, remembering the universal harmony of ours. Ponder these things and you will do well and your success will be certain and assured. Such is the message to you, of the Senior Class of 1911. H. E. H. ’ll. A Noble Youth. In the Bodleian library at Oxford is a most touching record of heroism and self sacrifice on the part of a child. The lower door of St. Leonard’s church, Bridgeworth, was left open, and two young boys, wandering in, were tempted to mount to the upper part and scramble from beam to beam. All at once a joist gave way. The beam on which they were standing became displaced. The elder had just time to grasp it when falling, while the younger, slipping over his body, caught hold of his comrade’s legs. In this fearful position the poor lads hung, crying vainly for help, for no one was near. At length the boy clinging to the beam became exhausted. He could no longer support the double weight. He called out to the lad below that they were both done for. “Could you save yourself if I were to loose you?” asked the younger lad. “I think I could,” returned the elder. “Then goodbv, and God bless you!” said the little fellow, loosing his hold. Another second and he was dashed to pieces on the stone floor below. “What is gravity?” Bright Biology pupil: “Something like axle grease.”