Greenfield High School - Evergreen / Exponent Yearbook (Greenfield, MA)

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22 THE EXPONENT “You must live by an old alnamac.” Wrath seized the s(e) argent. “Al¬ manac, you know nothing,” he hiss¬ ed. Presently they passed by the laun¬ dry of Pow Ling and the s(e)ar¬ gent thoughtfully wrote on his cuff, “Remember to mow right-hand meadow.” “There’s one Irishman in heav¬ en,” the miller announced irrele¬ vantly, “and that’s O’brien,” as he pointed to the constellation Orion. “Let us walk faster,” the s (e) ar¬ gent said, unheeding. “Streck-er trek, that’s what we’ll do,” the miller revealed an unusual word in his vocabulary. But the s(e) argent was intently listening to a faint murmur, “Fee, fie, foe, fum.” The blundering miller sneezed a loud “Condraski!” and startled the stranger into words. “Hello, sarge.” The miller recognized that the refugee had not been hung. “This,” the s(e)argent said by way of introduction, “is Jaspar, mentor of my son and chevalier, no cavalier of my daughter. He is most noted for his life-like statues of Count Pulaski and the Stuart kings, and for his paintings of the world’s greatest financier—Alexan¬ der Hamilton— and i ts greatest quarter-back—Jack Desmond! RHODA HARPER, ’26. BUT THEY RE NOT A Senior has always studied And worked since his very first year, ’Till his teachers for his health have worried And vainly have uttered their fear! They never whispered in classes. Or hurried pell mell through the halls; Mr. Smith scolded only the masses Of others, for marking the walls! They remained with unselfish motive To entertain others, they say. When called to the pink slip session And kindly invited to stay! So heed their wise sayings, my chil¬ dren. And reverence their knowledge and age As the dignified pause to address you With words of counsel—most sage! F. P. ’26. OUR LAST CHEER A merry cheer for the Seniors, Who at present engross the stage, For they’re our would-be great ones In the future day and age. They’re gone through exams so safe¬ ly And successfully steered their ship; Sometimes it has veered to wind¬ ward. And often threatened to tip. But let’s forget all unpleasantness While we sing a last song of praise; And let us cheer lustily for them. As a paean to fate we raise! K. F. ’28. Friend: “So you and your col¬ lege friend. Jack, have split up. What was the reason—jealousy?” M. Young ’28: “Yes, in a way. The wretch was always talking about a girl named Alma Mater.’ ' Miss Leavitt: Since I bought a car I don’t have to walk to the banks to make my deposits.” A. Crowley ’26: “Ah, you ride there.” Miss Leavitt: “No, I don’t make any.”

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THE EXPONENT 21 THE STORY OF 1 26 It was night as the taylor and the miller reached the edge of the moor at “Woods-on-the Lake”—the vil¬ lage barber’s country place. A white moon spread its rays about the rugged brown country side and watched the two looking for coons. “Welcome,” said the taylor who perceived a s(e)argent approaching. But the miller was a more witty man and perceived that explanations were in order. “We decided to become hunters, but perhaps fishing is more agree¬ able. Here is a whole brook that looks promising. Let us wade in.” “Wait,” said the s(e)argent com- mandingly. “Fishing is the bane of my existence. I would prefer a dish of Campbell’s soup to all the fish in the world.” “Pshaw, a lamb chop is more to my liking,” the tavlor interposed. “Or some pressed ham,” added the miller. “Those are but synonyms of my thoughts,” were the words of the s(e) argent. Just then a newcomer, painting, hastened into view. “Hide me,” he breathed forth. I can no longer fiee, the axle of my wheel-er, that is, of my car broke and they are about to lynch me.” “Ah,” the s(e)argent was sympa¬ thetic. “Take my Morgan colt and before you can say Jack Robinson you will be safe in your Morris chair. But if you don’t you will cross the river Le(i)the, church bells will toll and your wife will be wearing widow’s weeds who is now in her chamber layin’ in tears.” “Too late,” the refugee muttered as a crowd was seen approaching, led by the aged harper of the vil¬ lage. “Then take this boat and row-by the bridge,” the s(e) argent com¬ manded, and you will come to a field near many mills in which there is a pit”—“Field, sir, thanks,” and he disappeared. “Polite, isn’t he,” the taylor re¬ marked. “Grant me a boon,” the aged man accosted him. “What wouldst thou?” the s(e)ar¬ gent asked. “Hast thou seen a man cross by this way?” “Nay, I have merely heard the birds carrolling ‘Koziski’, most sweet-ly,” the s(e)argent answered. He turned to the taylor. “Kartcheske!” that good man sneezed in reply “Ah-er-a-Korshin- ski!” “Look!” the aged one shouted. “Hoop-la, cross the road, men. Da¬ vid, son, see him? John, son? John, stone him! stone him! Cross the bridge. It’ s always chase him!” “Wall, by gall, bray though he can,” the miller muttered between his teeth. “O’s good,” the s(e) argent was jubilant. “They’ll never catch him. How’ard he runs. Surely he knows enough to go very fast!” “Let us go to the village,” sug¬ gested the taylor, capering. “For merry am I.” Then he accidentally fell on a chestnut burr. Rage seiz¬ ed him. “Sokoloski,” he muttered, which translated would be stronger than “carrying coals to Newcastle,” which is in England where the bat¬ tle of Hastings was fought. By this time the taylor, who was a swart Swede had nearly reached home. “Jan grows more and more do¬ mestic,” the s(e)argent remarked as he heard Mr. Jan Lee giving orders,” and she handles him we k’ ' “See that crow, Lee? Time you were here long ago. Take that bag, Lee and come in.” “All right. Shall I fill the coal- hod, Jen?” As the s(e) argent and miller passed into the distance they heard the buzz of the hand-saw mingling with the strains of “Kelly with his green neck-tie.” “Ach-er-but he deserves a prize, by the shades of Mc Carty’s ghost!” the miller remarked. “Let us have some ice-cream made by Tate, roque,’ the s(e) ar¬ gent remarked as they passed the village store, “and a stein-er with a stein-song.” The miller laughed and said:

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THE EXPONENT 23 A TITLE HARD TO GAIN A ship is entering the harbor Just at the close of day; From the looks of the ship’s sur¬ roundings It has come from far away. The crew look tired but happy. The sails are rent with rain; The name of the good ship is “Suc¬ cess”, A title hard to gain. The preceding lines are a summary Of our four years at high; Of how we’ve worked and struggled And used for our motto—“Try.” We first start in as Freshmen And are picked on for a year; And then we are proud Sophomores, With never a sign of fear. Next we’re jolly Juniors And spend a year of fun; Soon we’re dignified Seniors With high school days ’most done. The class looks tired but happy. Their books are bent with pain; But the name they go by is “Suc¬ cess,” A title hard to gain. T. M. P. ’29.