Morris High School - Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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lIll 'l' il 'l' ill THE DEATH lf? 'Sill llllmfmll Ilh.m.ll CWith Apologies to Nathcmicl Ilawthornej JUDGE PYNCHEON is sitting in the great ancestral chair looking fixcdly at his heavy watchg but his thoughts are far removed from that ancient timepiece. Can Clifford tell him anything definite about the deeds to those vast, rich lands in the East? If he can wrest this secret from Clifford, how can he best obtain, by fair or foul means, the estate from its present owners? With such great wealth at his disposal will he not be able to bribe the most power- ful politicians in the state? NVill not Governor Pyncheon then become a reality? Finally, how can he get rid of Clifford without drawing the slightest suspicion upon himself? These questions are running through Judge Pyneheonls mind. Suddenly he raises his eyes and strangely enough, they rest upon the portrait of the stern founder of the Pyncheon house. What! is it possible that Judge Pynchcongthe hard, unflinching man, who believes in nothing supcrnaturalfcan it be possible that Judge Pyncheon sees a man, clothed in thc apparel of a laborer, stepping forth from behind the portrait? But look, Judge Pyncheonl The man is approaching you. Nearer and nearer he comesg his lips are moving, f'And God shall give you blood to drinkf' they seem to say. Why do you sit so quietly? Why do you stare so vacantly? He is drawing a long, thin sword froni behind himg he is towering above you! But suddenly he draws back. HAh, God has given him blood to drinkin he mutters as Judge Pyncheon falls forward to the floor. ANNA JOSEPHS-ON, '14. 23

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EDBWHE EFEAT! Thou black and bitter god, on whom ,llt ' ' 'Will But yestermorn I smiled with patron air, My VVhy art thou sent on earth to cause men woe? ' ' . . , VVhat . . . Ironic deity, woulds't hear , My plaint? Thou, thou, who'st caused me all I ' This grief . . . 'T is well. Engage in spiteful scorn Mt fm is quite becomis thy nature. Earnestly, -4 U owever, I sha treat thy words, as if adm' ' In earnest they were uttered. List thee then. Long months of labor, every day of which Taxed sorely both the mind and corporal shell, I consecrated to a worthy end. On this firm base I built a pyramid Of hopes and expectations, and the top I crowned with dreams of honors realized. The fateful day drew close. My heart beat fast, Delirious imaginings near snapt , My o'ertaxed brain . . . Then came the thrice-cursed hour, With thee, thou evil genius, trailing it. BF 1? PF Pk PF if PF :lf Dk Pk God! When I think on't now, vexatious tears Well to my eyes, and fury uncontrolled Takes hold of me. The jests, the taunts, the jeers Of all the world, make mere existence Hell. My heart is sick, my brain benumbed from work And worry . . . Now Defeat, art satisfied That I have cause to scoff ? ,F IK X 41 if FK Pls PF PK Pk What miracle is this? The fiend throws off His Stygian cloak, and lo! a different god Stands in his place: white-robed, impressive, tall, And with a Visage saintly in its kind, Smiling benevolence. The very air, As if it knows his presence, scented seems With myrrh and frankincense . . . But soft- The vision speaks-'fMisfortune, to most men, Is just misfortuneesomething to be cursed- A starting point of vengeance, envy, hate. If purblind men would cease to swear and sigh When conquered by Misfortune, and instead, Essay its brighter side to see, how great Would be their gain! 'Tis unbelievable How quickly one can Hnd this brighter side, And once found then there needs must ope to view The virtuous horde: Compassion, Kindness, Love, And all their fellows. . . . He was gone. . . , My head swam. Now I saw. Defeat was not a curse, it taught By holding up to me my state of mind, Defeated, how to lighten the great weight That lies on one afHietedg by kind words, By sympathy, compassion. . . . For this all, . . . Defeat, I thank thee. GEORGE ROBINSON, '14 22

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ZBILIEHUE Kit CHARACTERS Loquacious Nerve.. .A student of the Corris High School blessed with much nerve and an extensive vocab- ulary. Miss M ox ......,. Secretary in the Corris High School. Mr. Wyue ...,., . .Latin teacher in the Corris High School. Miss Braulce ...... German teacher in the Corris High School. Mr. Beubigh ...... Principal of the Corris High School. Bill Joues I Charles White ' ' . . . . . . . . .Students in the Corris High School. SITUATION: Loquacious Nerve had been to an affair the night before. Therefore, the day after, homework had he none. But as he arose at ten minutes before nine, decided Loquacious to bluff, SCENE I. The secretarg's ojice in Corris High School. Loquacious Nerve enters with a haughty strut. Miss Move: Why are you late? Loquacious: What? I? Late? Miss M ox: No, not very, very lateg only twenty-five minutes. Tell me why you are so late. Loquacious: Late? Yes, Yes-YeswIt was in this manner, or to use the words and epithet- Miss M ox: Come to the point, will you? Loquacious: Very well. Here is the reason: As I did not shake the sleep of the just from my most humble lids until the hour was nearer nine than half-past eight, this beauteous morn, and as I did not concentrate enough velocity into those organs which give me the power of locomotion, I was unable to arrive at my destination with as much rapidity as I otherwise would have been able to do. Therefore my lateness. Miss M ox: Have you finished? Louqacious: Oh, no! Will this soliloquy, although ten- Miss M ox: 'Tis enough. Two weeks in the late room. SCENE II. Five minutes later. A Latin room in the Corris High School. Enter Loquacious Nerve. Mr. Wgue: Well, well! Look who comes to midst! Have you written your homework? Loquacious: Why, good morning, good morning, Mr. Wyne. There are a few things about to-dayis translation which I know not. 24