Hendersonville High School - Laureate Yearbook (Hendersonville, NC)

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THE MOUNTAINEER 9 short, dark gentleman, with a tendency to stoutness, a big black cigar protruded from his lips, and hp was, with quite a lordly air, directing the operations of several white-clad clerks who evidently stood in much awe of him. “I surely ought to know that man,’’ I muttered. “That,” said my small companion, “is Dr. Lee Allen, leading druggist and club man of the thriving city of Henderson¬ ville.” “Gracious !” I exclaimed, “is that Lee ?” And I burst out laughing, for the contrast between this lordly “monarch of all he surveys” and the Lee of High School days, when “Miss Bessie” had dragged him over the coals in Latin class, was irresistibly funny. When I looked up another picture was forming: A crowded street appeared, and standing on an elevated platform was a tall, thin, be-spectacled female of uncertain age and a severe mien. She was “laying down the law” to the assembled crowds. Camera men were taking snap shots at this widely distinguished personage. Suddenly the lady turned her face fully toward me, and what was my horrified surprise when I recognized the one-time Valedictorian of the class of 1916, the gentle, retiring Miss Loee English, whose idea of torture was the fourth Friday of each month when the Senior class had charge of the Chapel exercises. Then this scene faded and another appeared. I immediately recognized the interior of our national Capitol,—it was in the Sena¬ tors’ chamber. A slim gentleman was on his feet frantically ges¬ ticulating, the tails of his frock coat flapped wildly; in his hand was a voluminous document, the headlines of which were, “Resolved, That Women be Deprived of the Ballot.” And this gentleman was none other than my shy old friend, Mack Jones, once president of the Senior class, now Senator Jones of North Carolina. The fourth scene now appeared,—a large, airy school-room ; rows of boys and girls ; and before the desk stood a long, lanky individual; a pointed, Frenchy moustache adorned his upper lip, and a pince-nez was astride his nose ; in his hand he held an instru¬ ment of torture; it was labeled: “Chardenal’s Complete French Course,” with which he was evidently torturiug the unfortunates before him. “Who’s that ?” I asked. “That ? Why, you simple¬ ton, don’t you know yourself ? That is Arthur English, Professor of French and Modern Languages in the H. H. S !” And the shock was so great that I must have fainted, for when I regained consciousness the piazza was empty, nor was there any sign of my little visitor. Was it a dream ? I know not, but that is what I saw.

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8 THE MOUNTAINEER Class Prophecy of the Class of 1916 A few evenings ago, I was seated on the piazza lazily enjoying the beauties of a spring night and, incidentally, wondering how on earth I could write the class prophecy which our august president, Mr. Jones, had demanded. Whether I dreamed what followed, or whether it really happened I do not know, but suddenly I heard a queer, cracked voice, exclaim : “Good Gracious, man, don’t make such awful noises !” I sat up and looked, rubbed my eyes and looked again, for there stood the queerest, funniest little being I ever saw—something like a Hop-o-My-Thum and a Rip Van Winkle combined. He was no bigger than a minute. His nose was long and sharp ; little black eyes looked out from under bushy white brows and sparkled like stars in a winter sky ; a long grey beard covered his breast, while his face was so wrinkled and brown it reminded me of a hickory- nut. “Who are you?” said I. “Who am I !” he answered, and swelled up till I thought he was in serious danger. “My goodness, man, are you a simpleton ? Haven’t you ever heard of me ? My name is Rapunzell.” “Oh, excuse me,” I answered, most politely, “It is very dark, you know, and I did not recognize you. Of course I have heard of you. Who has not?” The little fellow seemed molified. He suddenly gave a nimble jump and perched himself on the railing in front of me. “And now,” he said, “why did you give that awful groan ?” Did I groan?” I said. “Well, I guess I was thinking of that class prophecy that I have to write for the class of 1916.” “Umph,” he sniffed, “Is that all ?” “Isn’t that enough ?” “Well, I guess so—for you,” he returned, with a rather unflat¬ tering emphasis on the “you. ” Suddenly, “Look there, ” he said, pointing to a corner of the veranda. A soft mist seemed to envelope everything—one moment it was gorgeous with every color of the rainbow, the next filled with flitting shadows. As I looked those shadows seemed to takq definite shape, and slowly a picture emerged of a handsome drug store. Leaning upon the marble counter of an imposing soda fountain was a rather

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10 THE MOUNTAINEER Class Song—1916 Old Lang Syne Oh, Comrades dear we come today To say farewell to you. To say farewell to teachers too, And days of Old Lang Syne. We’ve worked together thru the years, We’ve played and studied to, In coming years we’ll e’er be true To friends of Old Lang Syne. And here’s a pledge, classmates, to you Now give we each a hand, We’ll e’er remain a loyal band For sake of Old Lang Syne. Then here’s farewell to each and all, To each a sad farewell. Our love for you we ne’er can tell Oh, friends of Old Lang Syne. Chorus. For days of Old “Lang Syne,” dear friends, For days of Old “Lang Syne” We’ll take a cup of kindness yet For days of Old “Lang Syne.” “0 calm Loee, 0 brave Loee, 0 studious Senior fair, Pray help me on my Cicero that I your A’s may share.” Thus spoke Lee to the eleventh grade star (of Cicero he’d despaired) And she who was kind as well as wise, his next day’s Latin prepared. “Sed si vis” she translated on, while Lee through the door did look, Thinking that she in the usual way would write it all out in his book. However she didn’t, and when she was through she handed Lee his book, While he now feeling very safe, homeward himself betook. Next day on class he cried, “Let me be the first to read.” Miss Bessie, surprised at this new turn, pleasantly agreed. But woe unto Lee when he turned to the place and found not a pencil mark; He thought at first he had the wrong page, but he hadn’t. The room went dark. “All right Lee, start off. Leave the Latin alone. We’ll only take English today. “Why, what is the matter?” Miss Bessie asked, as she saw his look of dismay. “Ub-m Sed is to say and er si is er to see. Don’t vis er-er mean to look?” Then, “0, I can’t do it! It’s all her fault. She wouldn’t write it out in the book.” Miss Bessie soon saw what a fix he was in and kept him in school until four. The next time he’s helped by the star of his class, he’ll look at his book, not the door.