Hart High School - Hartian Yearbook (Hart, MI)

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THE HARTIAN Hart High School 10c Per Copy Hart, Michigan

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THANKSGIVING ANTICIPATION There is no national celebration more beloved than Thanksgiving, which in November brings its festal turkey and pumpkin to cheer our somewhat chilly bodies. That’s one good thing which can be said for November, otherwise not a very popular month. No warmth, no cheerfulness, No healthful ease; No comfortable feel in any member, No birds, no flowers, No butterflies, no bees— November. Can this have been written by a citizen of our turkey-loving United States? We don’t know, but the dreary lines have somehow a true ring to them. Spring is still far behind, for winter has not yet come. We are irked by the changed routine of our daily lives which has been brought about as short, cold days succeeded long, lovely summer evenings. Thanksgiving is a beautiful custom and leads many a discontented person to realize that their lot is not after all so hard as they are prone to think. When we seriously take account of our blessings we are amazed to find how many and how rich they are. This is the day to inhale the perfume of life’s roses while ignoring the ever-present thorns. It’s tiresome to cook an endless procession of meals, to be sure, but how much more tiresome it would be if there were no meals to cook. The children, with their incessant calls on one’s time, are wearing, no doubt, but who would give them up in exchange for ease and leisure? The most blessed people are those who have the well-spring of love and joy in their own hearts. PAGE 12

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SPYING ON SANTA Bij Add C. Qoodrich In US oo»uin cWTurur Z'LL tell 'bout the queerest thinq That happened to me Christmas Eve When all us bids were snug in bed Ah sound asleop—l made believe. When all the house was still as mice I crop downstairs beside the qrale. An spread a blanket on the floor So’s I cud beep awake and wait To belch old Santa when he'd come Down the chim-mi-ny close by me. Oh gee. but I was qotlih scared An shivery ah trem-bi-lyl 1 heard a rustlin' several times An' almost wish! I'd stayed in bed— Suppose I just imagined that Some one urns walkin' overhead. Ah once I was so sure I saw Him peekin' through the dcor at me— Of course. I know he didn't. thouqh, 'Cause he'd como down the chim-mi-ny. I waited till the clock struck ten. Then thought of what my mother said: That Santa never would come in Till all us children were in bod So then I hep just awful still. Ah snuggled close up to the fire. Ah—then I heard my mother's voice: “Why. Alexander Rufus Fryer. Uou naughty, nauqhly little boy (I saw her face was quite severe. 1 knew that she was angry, too.] Whc :scr ere you doing here?“ “Morn Christmas. yelled the rest. Ah then I saw 'twas broad dayliqht. “I wanted to ketch Santa Claus. But didn't mean to stay all night Dad said, with such a curious look. “If you'd caught Santa Claus, my boy. Ho d gone back up the chim-mi-ny An' never left a single toy “ I fell a little sore and stiff. Du not as cold as id oj thouqhl. For oi er me. with Dad's name on. K. Was an auto robe that Santa brought ■ Ah all our stockings were cram full. With heaps of presents everywhere Oh gee. I just can't understand How Santa ever got 'em there1 1=3 fir “GREAT LIVING” Life is not easy to understand. In some moods it seems a jumble of letters, and we cannot spell out a clear sentence. It is very quick— at least, it soon becomes very quick. It begins as a lake in the hills, but soon its waters are a hurrying stream. And the things most worth having are never thrust into our hands. As Mr. J. L. Paton says, life is like an oriental shopkeeper. He displays his goods, sits at the back of his shop, and you may safely reckon that he keeps his best goods hidden; they have to be asked for. Most of us make a muddle of life, not because we are evil, but because we are ignorant. We do not know the goods which last. --------o-------- Complete success often alienates a man from his fellows, but suffering makes kinsmen of us all.