Ionia High School - Ionian Yearbook (Ionia, MI)

Page 16 text:

12 Till-] KMAXOX. EDITORIAL. I hose who, when reading our paper, may happen upon something of interest to them, may attribute it chiefly to our Advisory Board whose kindness and interest in the paper is most heartily appreciated. We are indebted to many members of the Freshman and Sophomore classes and desire to thank the Junior class especially for its unwavering support. Enclosed find the stories of our school-mates, their poems, humor and essays, wrought by the labor of many broken pens and half-eaten pencils and budding genius, for which labor please send us no unkind criticisms (as it would be a waste of paper i, but instead twenty-five cents if you still owe our book agent. Reading makcth a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man; but editing a senior paper maketh a full, ready, exact and discouraged man.

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A SPOILED CHYLDE. Whether they should give a party Where they all should find amusement, Give the Juniors a reception. As the ancient custom bade them. But, alas they lacked the silver, And in the wigwam of their treasure Could not find enough of wampum To fit out a single party. And that next year’s June may find us Better off than these poor Seniors, We are thinking, striving, working, Getting out a High School paper. We will tell you all the humor That beguiles our weary class hours; All the jokes and queer mischances That have happened in our school rooms; Give you, too, the best of essays, Best of stories, best of poetry, To amuse you and instruct you. A SPOILED CHYLDE. A spoiled chylde is in these wyde londes, That hadde ne beene smibben sharply for the nones; He wot no chastisement or “other woe” That is so gode for every wight belowe. And he must ever be with everichon The firste oon, wher that he is anon, Or elles he lifteth up his voys in crye, And loude is his lamentinge and envye. Despitous was he to houndes and his brudor, He doth not even mochly love his moder, He nevere sheweth ony oon kindnesse, He doth nat knowe what memeth humblenesse. His moder loveth him, but for the reste Who dwelle r.ere, they hate him as I gesse, Tor soothe he was a worthy chylde at alle, And soothe to scyn, I ne telle how men him calle. —MARGARET STEERE, ’08.

Page 17 text:

THE COUNTY FAIR. “Come up, gentlemen, and take a shot at the babies. Every time you hit a baby you get a good five-cent cigar.” rl his was one of the first voices which I heard going down Main street. As I turned south to go to the fair the words, “Take a bus to the fair. came to my ears. Then I joined the slowly moving crowd to that great annual meeting called the County Fair. 1 saw in the crowd pretty country dames with ribbons of all colors of the rainbow in their hair. Here was a tall, broad-shouldered lad, whose pants almost reached the tops of his shoes, and whose hair and face looked as if they had never seen a pair of shears or a razor. “Hello, Silas! When did you come down?” “Oh, I didn’t care to come down myself, but my wife and the kids wanted to come, an’ so 1 come. How’s the fair this year, anyhow?” “Oh, it’s a little better’ll it was last year, and there be more here-----” Then 1 passed them in that large crowd and did not sec them again. “Everybody take a ride on the ocean wave. It will cost you a nickel, a half a dime.” In the distance I heard the cheering of the spectators of the base ball game. Exhibits of all kinds claimed my attention, among them a gasoline engine, a planting machine, and many other implements which I will not attempt to name. “Lemo, five a glass; nice hot taffy.” Now, don’t get so funny with that ’ere old confettv, or I’ll hit you with this cane.” Oh ! what a headache I would have if I had to stand and listen to that merry-go-round very long. “(Tli! the races!” “Go!” And then I saw three horses start on a half-mile pace around the track. “Say, did you see the foot ball game?” “Yes. What was the score?” Six to nothing, favor Belding. Here comes number five in ahead.” —CLAUDE DUMONT. ’io.