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

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ALGERIAN MARKET-PLACE G6 HOU sayest that the Spanish prisoners are to be sold in this mar ket-place today?,, Yea, and may the dogs have evil masters! As the two Algerians conversed, a tall Moor mounted the platform and signalled to another to drive forth the prisoners from a nearby shed. Ten of them the driver flayed unmercifully in the direction of the auction block. All about, among the blank, white walled houses with slanting roofs, the narrow, broken streets or alleys were thronged with eager, shouting swarthy men. Look ye! shouted the auctioneer. Here is a fine specimen, clean, strong-built. He can carry loads, he is well-behaved, can perform great labors. How much am I offered? Ten! - Twenty f - Thirty I -4'Fifty ! Fifty? Fifty? He is worth more! How much amfl offered? '6Seventy! The animal is not worth more! Seventy? Seventy? More? .... The animal is thine for sev- Comes the sonorous call to prayer. Haya Alla salat! Haya Alla Fa1ah! The auctioneer's sentence is unfinished. Business is suspended as the multitude of white clad, turbaned Moslems turn toward Mecca and bow in prayer. Four hundred years later. The Arab quarters of Algiers. The same marketplace, the same blank walled whitewashed houses with roofs slanting toward each other, the same dark, filthy, broken, steep stairs in the crooked alleys. On the block the auctioneer cries, Look ye, look ye! How much am I offered? Ten ! - Twenty ! Thirty ! Fif ty ! Fifty? How much more am I offered? Seventy! Seventy! The animal is worth no more! Seventy? Seventy? No more? .... The animal is thine for .... There comes the sonorous call to prayer. The sentence is left un- finished, business is suspended, while the multitude of white-clad, turbaned Moslems turn toward Mecca and bow in prayer. Four hundred years .... and the Arab marketplace is unchanged, ex- cept that the sale is of camels, not slaves. Rose-ellen Halrnos, A4 LIGHT Each one of us Has a light within him. Children carry stars, Lover's carry moons, The old bear sunlight, The strong bear the sun. Yet we all go searching for candles In other people's homes ' Alice Kalousdian, B8 Page Thirty-seven

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PET ABOMINATION SUPPOSE everyone has some pet abominations. As I am no exception I have several, of which there is one I particularly dread,-little sister's birthday. By resting a few days I prepare myself for this much- dreaded day. Who wakes me up early that day? Who has done nothing but advertise her birthday for a month in advance? Why, little sister, of course! She doesn't let anyone forget that her birthday is coming. All of our neighbors are aware of the fact that their little lady friend is going to have a big day. She is nine now-quite grown up! I can think back to that remote time when birthdays meant so much in my life, and having had similar experience, can sympathize with my petite soeur. However, sympathy is lacking when we are in the midst of a typical Ciceronian sentence with which we have been struggling for the last fifteen minutes and along comes little sister to sweetly remind us not to forget to buy her something for her birthday. Someone may ask, Well, what about little brothers? All I can say is that I haven't had any experience with little brothers, since I have only one big one. But I don't think they can compare with little sisters when it's a question of birthday nuisances. It is encouraging to know that my pet abomination will not be long lived, for soon my little sister will no longer be little and I shall have no Ciceronian sentences to have interrupted. Ethel Sankows, B6 INTANCIBILITY A verdant woodland is my mind to me, A cosy nook in which, on beds of pine And hemlock, racy, fresh, like wind-tossed hair, I rest my weary cells, each stepped in thought, And, watch the clouds, pure fairy fleece, float on Through space and time. They know not walls nor hours: And I with them am free, untrammeled by The tug of earthly ties, and I exist But in a thought. Pulsation is an age, I tread in fairy rings with ecstasy Sublime, unfettered, from the flesh detached. I- know myself, and I am one with that lllimitable power pervading All. Elizabeth Ash, A4 Page Thirty-six

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A WINDOW IN THE LITTLE CHURCH AROUND THE CORNER LTHOUCH the Little Church around the Corner or Church of the Transfiguration is one of New York's smallest, as many people pass daily through its doors as through those of our greatest cathedrals. And why do they?-to see the lich-gate at its entrance, and the windows dedicated to the memory of famous actors. The windows dedicated to Edwin Booth, one of the foremost inter- preters of Shakesperian characters and founder of The Players, is the first to the left of the entrance to the transept. It is very large, and Gothic- arched. The scene in the upper half represents a histrionic student seated under a violet canopy, and fixing his troubled gaze on a white mask in his hand. Bareheaded, he wears a long mantle of fine sienna shadings, one corner thrown carelessly over his left shoulder. Underneath, in emerald letters on a dark blue blackground stands Boolh's favorite quotation from Hamlet: As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards Has ta'en with equal thanks. In larger letters at the foot of the window is the dedication: To the glory of God, and in loving memory of Edwin Booth, this window has been placed here by The Players -l898. Virginia Gargiulo, B7 YOUTH AND OLD AGE When I was young I used to satisfy The first whim that I got. Now I am old- I think before I act- But I still choose The first whim that I get. I suppose I have not grown much yet. Alice Kalousdian, B8 Page Thirty-eight