Lincoln High School - Quill Yearbook (Jersey City, NJ)

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mg., All evening the two were together. The prince gloated over the fact that the person in the prettiest costume was with him and was reciprocating his attentiveness. No doubt about it, the pair did make a stunning couple, drawing the eyes of everyone. They certainly were colorful, at least. Sally didn't talk much, for, she explained, she had a frog in her throat, which made her hoarse. However, it pleased his vanity to do the talking for both of them. As for dancing, he avoided it whenever possible, for the heretofore featherweight, Sally, seemed to be suddenly unaccountably heavy on her feet, which made her quite clumsy to lead around. Perhaps the frog had affected her legs, too. wk wk ek wk sc Twelve o'clock! Everyone unmask! shouted the very gypsy to whom Sam's princess had been speaking earlier in the evening. The gypsy pulled off a black mask. With a sudden dreadful premonition of what was coming next, Sam turned slowly, hesitantly, to the companion at his side, and in a realization as terrible as a horrible nightmare, found himself staring into the grinning, half ashamed face of Bob Evers, his best pal. Mildred Singer. I-Iallowe'en Fantasy As I stopped before the department store window, peering curiously into the eerie gloom within, my breath was taken away. There, lifesize, sat the wizened Hgure of a witch bending over a boiling cauldron. A strange feeling possessed me. My gaze was drawn irresistibly toward the contents of the huge receptacle. I was torn between reality and imagination. My eyes seemed to perceive a boiling, pitchfblack concoction in the cauldron while my conscious sense told me there was nothing there. The mixture seethed-seethed. A vapor arose from it. It swirled toward me. It lifted me from my feet. I was whirred through the boundless reaches of the atmof sphere ..... I know not how I got there, but I found myself floating over a field, precariously perched on a witch's broom. All around me the air was spotted with blackfcloaked figures wearing tall, pointed hats, and, like me, employing brooms for their aerial mounts. As they came closer, I recognized them as those strange creatures, the witches, that appear mysteriously a few days before Hallowe'en, and then just as mysteriously vanish on November the first. They whirred about, literally choking the atmosphere, yet I could still see the magnificent, autumnftouched scene below me. Here and there, rearing up like golden skyscrapers from amid the tarnished grass, stood sheaves of grain, flanked by huge, moon-faced pumpkins that nestled at their bases. In the distance, across a whitewashed fence, I could see a grove of

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Masquerade Bring! Brinnnng! Brrrrfinnnggf' The telephone rang insistently. With a scowl, Sam raised his bewildered, touseled head from his algebra home' work. Who had invented that system of calculation anyhow? And why did people always call others up at the most inconvenient times? Impatiently, he answered the ring, Helflo. Then, brightening visibly-s Yes, Sam speak' ing, Sally? How are you? That's good. Same here. No, nothing. A Thanksgiving masquerade? Of course, I'll come. Oh, boy! That's great. See you Saturday night, then. Goodfbyef' He hung up, and sighed deeply, slowly shaking his head from side to side, with a wide smile on his face. Life was good. His best girl, his current steady, and a party at her house. What could possibly be better, except, perhaps, an E in Algebra. He meditated a moment, and then turned back to the homework. Masquerade or no masquerade, girl or no girl, it had to be done. ZX plus By minus p equals what? In two minutes all thoughts of a party were far from his mind. a :xc ae :ze ae The Big Night! As an Oriental prince, Sam was truly handsome. Only after much persuasion on their part had he allowed his sisters to use cosmetics on him, which largely contributed to the effect. His dark skin seemed to have been specially colored for the occasion. He strode blithely along the street, unmindful of curious stares at his attire, utterly oblivious of his surroundings. The door was opened by Christine, the maid, and he found himself almost immediately surrounded by a chattering group of young people. They practically dragged him into the living room, but he paid no attention to them. His searching glance roved about the room, then quickly changed to one of satisfaction. Ah, there she was! Looking beautiful, as usual. Why in the world should a gorgeous Oriental princess waste time talking to a pirate and a gypsy when there was her equal in costume, a Chinese prince, present? He sped over and bowed a bit. Dance? he half suggested, half asked. She looked quizzical for a moment, then smiled, no, actually grinned, as if she thought the idea too funny for words. How queer! She had never acted that way. However, she shook her black curls in acquiesence and drifted into his arms. What could be sweeter? Sam looked about, and remarked appreciaf tively, You certainly must have worked hard to get this effect. The decor' ations are in keeping with the season, what with the pilgrims, the pumpkins, etc. They glided along quietly, humming a snatch of the tune to which they were dancing. Suddenly he jumped, exclaiming, Ouch, my toe! Sally apologized for having rushed in where angels feared to tread-namely, on his pet corn-and suggested that they sit out the rest. Sam agreed, apologizing on his part for having been so ungentlemanly as to have jumped.

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trees, beautifully touched by the brush of the Great Artist. It was truly a remarkable scene ..... Suddenly one of the witches, in the course of her mothlike Hitting about, brushed against me. Turning to get a close look at the strange creature, I saw, to my infinite surprise, a definitely masculine, young face. I heard him murmur a polite Sorry and then he was gone. Abashed, I turned once again to the beautiful landscape, but lo! it was not there. A curtain of plate glass had fallen between me and my vision, leaving only the wizened ngure of a witch and a mysterious cauldron-empty! William Davidson. The Joys of Early Rising There is nothing that can compare with that most enjoyable of all experiences, early morning rising. The lovely crisp air that greets you as you wake can be likened only to a dip in the Arctic. As you come to, a feeling of eagerness pervades you, you want to bound right out of bed. Ah, no! That would never do. You might arouse some one by mistake, and so you slide reluctantly back under the blankets. But Early to bed, early to rise is one of your favorite maxims, and so regardless, you eagerly leap out of bed. The shock of the cold floor on your bare feet makes you reel, but you recover quickly, hurry into your clothes and rush for your breakfast. By the way, an added advantage of this experience is the extra time one then has for further study. One gets more than one thrill from an early morning dabble in commercial law and not a little pleasure in reviewf ing the Spanish American War. Ah, yes, indeed, as Sturcke would say. However, this joy is somewhat lessened when you discover the milkman is late, the toaster is on the L'fritz, and the cereal pot is burned dry. And so you skip blithely off to school with an empty stomach, consoling yourself with the thought that you may lose half a pound. As you meander along the Boulevard, you notice a ducky little clock in a barber shop window which says 7 :5 5. Tearing down Emory Street and onto Monticello Avenue, you see another clock, 7:45 and you slow down, meanwhile murmuring prayers of thanksgiving. Although there is an ominous quiet on Brinkerhoff Street, the memory of that fruitfstore clock is still in your mind, so you stroll along musing on the cares of the world, and conjecturing whether or not you'l1 get on the credit roll next month. Suddenly you realize that the street is deserted, and you slip into an imitation of Clancy coming down the home stretch. Alack and Alaska, just as you go galloping into the corridor, the familiar little bell goes tinkle, tinkle, while you turn to keep an unexpected appointment with Mr. J. Slane. Beware the ides of the clock! 4 Edith Cowml