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

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TWO Of A Kind in-4 i -angr. 41 L --Sf? f '5 A girl-back-home appears to be ln every universityg In every young collegiate heart She plays the most appealing part- At least it seems that way to me. For, When I spy with ecstasy The man who's surely meant for me, He has, you offer to impart, A girl-back-home. You say that all my Witchery Cannot convert his constancy Since he has given away his heart: Yet Why should I begrudge her art? Am l not just the same as she, A girl-back-home? Alice Wren twenty-four

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his forehead. Look at the audience--all the eyebrows are adorn- ing the middle of foreheads. Ioseph's undecided blue eyes have taken on a new air of amazement and mild reproach. Look about you-all the eyes are amazed and mildly reproachful. Brother takes in a deep breath-the audience follows suit. He blows, they blow, a noble tone emanates, and they sigh in relief. One, two-again! Another good tone, finel One, two-Oh! A horrible discord re- sounds through the apartment. Ioseph looks up sheepishly and the members of the audience eye each other apologetically. They have not noticed that Ioseph is not playing a melody, that he is merely blowing notes at random, with no rhythm at all. When he played the piano, occasionally, frarely, 'tis truel an especially bold little melody would poke out its head for the space of a moment or two, but when he played the clarionet, never! Now the farnily's highest ambition is the avoidance of these discords. Well-one, two, ouch! My dear brother flushes, sighs and then suddenly- hiccupsl Saved! Ioseph has the hiccups and he can't play any more. The guests wipe their brows, wet with honest toil, and nod to each other in sincere admiration of such accomplishment. And so it goes, Every Sunday my brother drags out his clarionet and entertains us with a series of rare discords and heart- breaking whines, and then stows the instrument away again. How long is this to continue? 0n Seeing A Cat Carved From Wood There he stood Straight and slim, Hewn from wood, But very trim. By his side, Two black balls, As are seen In feline halls. Charlotte Fraser twenty-three

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Canary-Colored Walls by Alice Ames HE turned the corner of the hall and there it was-the ward. At last, he thought, at last. He sighed and walked on through the high ceilinged corridor with its cream and pale green walls, into the ward. lt had been a long hard struggle to get money for medical school. It had been a long hard struggle to go through medical, scraping here and there, using lack of time as an excuse for missing lunches. He looked about him. The place was certainly a cheery one in spite of the suffering it harbored. The canary col- ored walls suggested spring though the snow lay blanketing the grounds outside, and the half frozen river sloughed on like a bowl of mud-green glue dotted with chopped diamonds. The pale green beds stretched along both sides of the room, each snow white cover's serenity disturbed only by the little mounds caused by the pairs of motionless legs and each pillow's smoothness dotted by a small face. Here a nurse was anxiously watching the effects of a Kleisig while a young student watched the fluid as it slowly grew less in the glass c. c. jar, which hung upon a white steel rack. There, up and down the right side of the aisle, a young 'proby' looked at her mysterious little slips and distributed pills to one, liquids to another. The head nurse hurriedly prepared a bed. She had scarcely finished when a young interne rolled in an operating slab containing a prostrate body. The body was swathed from head to foot in many blankets. Even the face was covered, as if the child no longer had need of air. The young interne grasped the motionless form gently but firmly by the ankles, the head nurse grasped the neck in the same manner, and the 'proby' placed all her strength upon the small of the back and on a third count, they raised it into the bed, covered it without a word as the ward maid wheeled the table away. The 'proby' went on her way. The doctor after recording the operation, gave the nurse some final instructions and left. Yes, it would be all that from now until the end, pale green beds, white uniforms, treatments, operations, prostrate forms, sad faces-and canary colored walls. twenty-Hve