Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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T H E A R G U s Argus Arrama It is more blessed to give than to have to think up a speech of acceptance and thanks. wk :sf :sf :of There is sometimes in silence an eloquence 'that no oratorial Bight can ever attain. :af :si if :sf Scientists are working to prolong' human life and manu- facturers are making more automobiles. wk Pk :xc ik Truth is afraid of nothing but concealment. Pk an PK af It's funny how some folk fish for compliments with baited breath. Pk wk 4: ik Imagination gallops-judgment goes at a measured pace. :sf PF wk if ' 'The walking stick is becoming popular with women but it will never be able to quite supplant the lip-stick. :uf :cf :sf 4: Man carries in his head a private theatre wherein is enacted a greater drama than is ever performed on the stage, beginning and ending? with eternity. ' in Pk :sf :sf Dignity goeth before a banana peel. wk Pk :sf af The one who thinks that the whole world is against him, never seems to realize that the world doesn't even know he's around. af wk wk wk Many a youth with the figure of an Apollo has the same kind of head-of stone. :sf if PK ik There can be no perfect equality between the sexes until men learn to scream and jump upon the tables at the sight of a IIIOLISC. DF Dk Ik lk THE EDITOR. 48

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THE ARGUS was clear, clearer it seemed than it had ever been before, and looked as if it had a fresh and clean quality. The clouds scur- ried on with the moon anxiously peering through the rapidly moving spaces. The lonesome wind alternately moaned and roared around the corner. I glanced below again. A man was buying a paper. He dropped his three pennies on the stand, folded the paper under his arm, and strode briskly homeward. I yawned a bit, and be- gan to pull the shade down when I noticed a drooping figure slowly movinig across the street. It was that of a girl, poorly clad, even had it not been cold. Suddenly I felt very warm as I thought of what it was like out there. The moan of the wind grew louder and louder and then burst into a frenzied shriek. The girl drew nearer. Her eyes fixed upon the ground, her hands stuck deep into the pockets of her scanty jacket. Notic- ing the glare of the stationer's lamp upon the pavement, she glanced up and drew nearer to the 1'ight. I saw that she was about sixteen, unnaturally thin, and dressed in what was too evidently someone's worn-out and cast-off clothing. Most of her yellowish hair was pushed into an ancient old-rose tam-o- shanter. Her eyes were a weak blue, her nose, thin and sharp, her small blue-lipped mouth was pushed up close under it. She came a step nearer. Her eyes fastened on the three pen- nies on the news-stand. Her whole body stiffened. She looked around. The street was empty. Her eyes turned swiftly back to the pennies. She looked at them steadily for a moment, then taking her hand from her pocket, reached out a finger, touched one, shuddered, and then, grasping all three in her palm, ran off. A policeman on the other side of the street, looked up as she passed, and my heart leaped with fear for her, the petty thief, the half-witted' criminal, lashed by poverty. But he paced on, unhurriedly, and I became aware that my nose, pressed against the pain, was stiff with cold' My hand still held the cord of the window shade. I finished pulling it down, jumped into bed, and there spent the rest of the night, conjur- ing up the girl s story, the necessity which had driven her to such a paltry theft. The thought of her out there in 'that cold wind, clutching the pennies in her cold, damp hands, robbed me of my sleep. The wind had brought her like a leaf and like a leaf had swept her out of my memory. E. Rosenberg, C6 47

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