Goshen Central High School - Yearbook (Goshen, NY)

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THE PIONEER 13 Billy paused and, glancing toward the girl he had frowned at. slowly closed one eye and opened it again. The girl nodded her head as if she was answering “yes' to some question. “The time soon came,” continued Billy, “for our steamer to sail and, as Monty Jacks was coming to the good old U. S., he still remained one of the party. Just as we started to board the steamer that afternoon, a fussy, little, fat man stopped us and asked in a wheezy falsetto, “I say, which ode of you fellows is Monty Jacks?” Billy paused to laugh and then went on. “Well, you should have seen Jacks beat ii up the gangway. He reminded me of a commuter running after the morning train, only a little more so. ‘Well,’ I asked, ‘what is your business with Jacks?’ ‘My business? Oh! I’m a Scotland Yard man and Jacks just made a big haul in London and got away with it.’ “Naturally, we were surprised and told ‘Mr. Scotland Yard Man' about the disappearance of our things. He grinned and said, ‘You'll get 'em back, never fear,’ and went on up the gangplank. In a few minutes we saw him returning, towing Jacks with one hand and carrying a package in the other. He gave the package to us with the remark that it probably contained our stuff, and then he went back on land again.” “Well,” gasped the others, excitedly, “did you find your things in the package?” “No.” “You didn’t? What was in the package then?” “Muzzles,” drawled Billy, “for those who bite.” The mischievous girl snickered, “I wondered how Billy would get that off on somebody. I fooled him with a story similar to that this morning.” MARIE C. HOFFMANN, '18. THIRTY MILES TO ITHACA. There was excitement in the town of Three Bridges on that beautiful June morning. Si Barns had purchased a third hand Ford runabout, (model 1906), and it was rumored that he was to start that morning with his wife, Maria, to attend the graduation of their son, Daniel, who was a student at Cornell. Many an alarm clock was set half an hour earlier than usual so that the industrious house-wife would not have to neglect any of her early morning “chores,” in order to witness the momentous departure at eight o’clock. Si and Maria were to start this early because, as Maria said, “Ithaca’s thirty miles from here, Si, and we ain’t gonna take no chances of gettin' ketched in the dark.” Therefore at precisely eight o'clock the watchers were rewarded by the sound of a mighty chug-chug and Silas appeared coming up the road from the barn. He brought his car to an abrupt stop about five yards from the “hitchin’ post,” and Maria, after traversing the muddy distance intervening, climbed into her seat, settled herself uncomfortably on the extreme edge, and held tightly to the side with her black cotton gloved hands. Silas performed certain mysterious gyrations with feet and hands, and they were off. “Si,” the stillness was broken by a quivering voice, “Ain’t yer goin' turrible fast?” “ ’Tis purty fast, Mariar. We’re a-goin’ five miles an hour. Ain't skeered, be ye?” After this conversation flagged. At about noon they stopped along the road and ate the lunch of bread and cheese which Maria had brought in a paper bag. After this meal they again climbed into the car. Si went thru the usual motions but the car failed to respond. “Wh-what’s the matter, Si?” quaveringly inquired Maria. “Blamed if I know. Mariar,” was the dubious answer. Oh, yes ” more hopefully as a brilliant thought struck him. “I clean forgot to wind the blame thing up.” After this necessary performance had been accomplished they once more managed to get started. After travelling serenely for about an hour the engine all at once stopped and the car came to a stand-still at the top of a hill. Marie ventured the opinion that perhaps it was run down” so Silas got out to see if “winding up” would do any good, but, this time, he failed to get favorable results. After a few minutes of deep meditation Si remembered that some one had told him, when the engine wouldn't start, to push the car down a hill, and, when the engine started, to jump in. So Si and Maria pushed. The plan worked so far as starting the car went, but as to jumping in------! In less time than it takes to tell the car was at the bottom of the hill, while Si and Maria were standing near the top open mouthed with horror. Upon closer examination they found that although the car seemed none the worse for her wild solitary expedition, she could not be induced to go. At last a large car. overflowing with college boys returning from a ball game, came along. “Want a tow?” they asked.

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12 THE PIONEER “THE JUNIOR CHARGE.” Dear Juniors: — “The best of things must come to an end” and so it is with our high school life. We are leaving to you the joy and responsibility of being the leaders in school activities next year, although we have serious doubts as to your capability. But before departing we wish to give you a little good advice, which we hope you will take gracefully. Whatever you do, don’t “knock. Stand up for your school, and try to help along its various projects, instead of running them down. For. people of your extreme youth are apt to be rather hard in their criticism. Then, dear Juniors, don’t sit back and wait for some one else to start things going. Because, if you don’t take the lead in school matters, who will? We have a fine building and a fine faculty, and will soon have a wonderful athletic field, making our equipment for learning, one of the best in the State. And we hope that you will uphold the fine average in scholarship made by previous Senior Classes, and, if possible, raise that average. Those coveted seats in the back of the Study Hall are very comfortable, and we earnestly hope that you will enjoy them. But, like many other good things, they are not always easy to retain. For, a back seat demands very good behavior, a thing not always found with little Juniors. And, now in closing, we, the Class of 1916, wish you,the Class of 1917, all kinds of success during the coming year. CLASS OF 1916, A. S. G., Pres. SINGULAR THINGS IN PLURALS. We’ll begin with a box and the plural is boxes. But the plural of ox should be oxen not oxes. Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese; Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You man find a lone mouse or a whole lot of mice, But the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is sometimes called men. Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen? The cow in the plural may be cows or kine, But bow, if repeated, is never called bine, And the plural of vow is vows, not vine; And if I speak of foot would you show me your feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth. Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth? If the singular is this and the plural is these, Should the plural of kiss be nicknamed keese? Then one may be that and three may be those, Yet the plural of hat is never called hose. And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of brother and also of brethren, But though we say mothers we never say methren. The masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But imagine the feminine she, shis and shim. So the English, I think you all will agree, Is the most wonderful language you ever did see. —Springfield Republican. STORIES A story contest was held in the High School during May. The best story from each class is printed in the Pioneer. AN AFTERNOON’S DIVERSION. A group of young people were sitting on the shady part of the club porch, drinking cooling beverages in a vain attempt to keep cool, and amusing themselves by telling their various adventures. “Well, remarked a bronzed individual, who spent most of his time on the tennis courts, “the other day I met a man, whom I had not seen since the time I was in the Soudan. “Say, Billy, drawled a young man, “how did it happen that you left your tennis long enough to go to Africa? “I hadn’t gone in for tennis, then, old top. To return to the subject, this fellow, Monty Jacks he was called, was an Englishman and an awful snob. His only fault, too. At least we thought so. Billy paused and regarded the group thoughtfully, until his eyes caught sight of one girl, who was trying to conceal a mischievous grin. He frowned angrily at her and went on with his story. “While we were away at camp. Jacks and the rest of us discovered that someone, who had an idea that our watches, cuff-links, etc., were too much of a burden for us to carry through the jungle, had very kindly relieved us of them. Of course, we searched the natives of the party, (they didn’t have much clothing to search) and our two white guides; but we did not discover either thief or valuables. We went into the jungle, shot our game and returned. After we came to town, we had the party searched again, but with the same results. Jacks grumbled more than the rest of us over the theft and no amount of talking cheered him up.

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14 THE PIONEER Silas sad “Yes ,f and attaching to a long rope, Si and Maria made their impressive entrance into Ithaca. After an exciting meal with their beloved “Danie” all three walked over to inspect the car. Danie lifted the lid of the gasolene tank and said, “Why. dad, you haven’t any gasolene in here.” Si’s mouth dropped open. ‘Wal, how’d I know ye had to feed the blamed thing?’’ FLORENCE HINCHMAN, '16. OX PROBATION. Jimmy Barlow was a poor lad His father and mother had never given him the ghost of a chance. They had always abused him. beat him, and sent him out into the streets to pick up a few pennies, with which they could get some whiskey to drink. Some times Jimmy would come home without anything, and then he would have to take the consequences, a beating. As time went on. and Jimmie’s beatings became more frequent, he dreaded more and more the going home. But Jimmy was not the kind to run. He stuck it out until finally it b came almost unbearable. One night he came home without a cent. His father gave him an extra hard beating, and then shut him in a dark hole in the cellar. After two or three hours his father called him up stairs, and whispered something in his ear. He began to protest. but he saw the look on his father’s face, and became silent. In about an hour Jimmy sneaked out of the back door, found the house his father had indicated, climbed quietly through the window’, and stole some money. Many times after that his father made him go out and steal. After' a few times it became easier, and finally it grew into a habit. Then one day his father died. A few weeks after this his mother also died. Jimmy felt sorry for a time, but after all it wasn't such a serious loss to him; so he just w’ent on in the same old path that his father had forced him into, for now’ it was a habit. As time went on Jimmy grew worse and w’orse, stole more and more, until finally he became a thoroughly bad character. But. even if he was a thief, he had a heart. He often gave money to help some poor fellow’ in trouble, or to aid some one who was sick or in need. By doing this he was constantly out of money, w'hich made him steal more often. One night Jimmy forced entrance into a bank. He had just got hold of some money, and started away when two policemen grabbed him. He offered no resistance, but went quietly with them to the lock-up. The next day Jimmy wras tried in the Juvenile Court. He confessed everything, telling how he had been handicapped, and how’ his father had forced him to steal. The case was talked over and the judge decided to put him in charge of the Probation Officer. In the afternoon the Probation Officer, wfhose name was John Astor, came up to Jimmy and greeted him so heartily with a warm hand shake, that it made Jimmy feel good. “Come on in here, Jimmy,” he said, so friendly, that Jimmy did not hesitate. “Now, Jimmy, you and I are going to have a talk together. First, I want you to tell your life’s story, then I have a proposition to make you.” After Jimmy had told his story, Mr. Astor said: Well, Jimmy, that certainly was a pretty hard life, but just listen to me a minute. The law states that a young man under the age of tw’enty-one can not be named as a criminal. So, as you are only seventeen, that is one point in your favor. And now. Jimmy. I want to know if you w’ant to reform.” Upon Jimmie's answer in the affirmative, the officer went on. “I have a friend who would like to employ a bright young man as general helper in his office, and I am going to get you the job, providing you are willing. Jimmy, I w’ant you to go to night school. Study hard. lad. and see if you can’t make good. Here’s the man’s address, and there's mine. Report to me every week. Goodbye. Be good, boy.” “Good-bye, sir, I don’t know how to thank you. “Never mind the thanks, Jimmy. Good-bye. I’ll see you next week.” Two years have passed. Jimmy is now nineteen. He has worked hard and has made good. He has reported every week to the Probation Officer, and they have become warm friends. Jimmy has a responsible position in the office of a large firm and in time will be taken in as a partner. HARRY DITRLAND, '17. AN EXCITING NIGHT.” Long before and for some time during the Civil War. negroes escaped from their owners and were taken, by a way called the “Underground Railroad,” to freedom in Canada. My initiation into the secrets of this mysterious