Morris High School - Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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Emu Nights fBa.fed on Faczij Q- - ' - -Q ROFESSOR MAILKEVITCH murmured some- ,' , thing as he turned over in his bed for the hun- dredth time. He had just heard the church bell ring out the third hour of the night. It was just twenty-four hours since he had started for - - the fields beyond the city limits to avenge his I-fl. ' ' .6 honor with the sword. He knew full well that Y-,....,, he was a rascal and that he was not treating his students right. But that did not trouble him. He had done it for the last thirty yearsg ever since he was appointed head examiner. But now it was murder! He shuddered whenever the word entered his mind. Murdfr.f And why? The Professor had had a heated discussion with an American over the question of ghosts. The American quoted Professor James as a believer in spirits. Professor lVIailkevitch held that the only spirits he knew of were those loved so much by the peasantry of his country. A comparison of the relative authority of Professor James and Pro- fessor lVIailkevitch led to what the Russian considered an insult. A fiery reply and a return fire, and the argument was ended with an invitation to a duel. The arrangements were quickly made. The American having no good friend in the city who could act as his second, asked that the Professor come without one also, to which the Professor agreed. The next morning both combatants presented themselves on the field early. The duel did not last long. The Russian, who was the better swords- man, was soon the victor. He did not wish to kill his opponent. But the thing happened. At Hrst he made little of it. He left the dead man in the field where he had fallen, and quickly returned home. During the day he tried to forget the scene by keeping busy all the time. But as night ap- proached he grew restless. He visited a theatre with the hope of buying forgetfulness for awhile. But the play ended with a duel, which greatly irritated the Professor. He repaired immediately to his bachelor apartments' near the college, and opened a humorous book which he hoped would relieve his distracted mind. At first he could even smile at the humor, but gradually the smile became painful and faded altogether. Little red dots began to dance across the pages. With every line he read, the dots became more numerous. 12

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VV A Eallahr nf igigh Svrhnnla ITH fervid feeling hard to break, Some students cherish Clinton's name, VVhile others still are wide awake To kindle young Evander's flame. You see, not one of them is lame In boosting this or that one's questg I take this stand with loud acclaim- I like the school called lVIorris best! 'ilVIy alma mater takes the cake, Remarked a Julia Richman dame. The sound of Commerce makes one quake. A fellow boasted of its fame. From every source you hear the same Effusions full of warmth and zest,- But as for me,-and can you blame? I like the school called Morris best! For Townsend's or for Bryant's sake, For Stuyvesant's,-e'er since they came, A host of studes have sought to make Their school a school sans sense of shame. To fight for KIorris is my aimg I snap my fingers at the rest. Compared to mine their cries are tame- I like the school called KIorris best! ENVOY. Read this and put it in a frameg Of all the schools from East to IVest, For pupils that are true and game, I like Ihr srhool flllffll IVIorris best! IXIAX LIEF, '16 ll

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TWO NIGHTS They covered the pages he was reading just as the thick grass covered the field of honor he had trodden in the morning. Soon the myriads of little red dancing dots became molded into one whole surface of red-red blood gushing from the motionless body of the fallen man. The books fell to the floor, but the blood and the body remained on the White tablecloth, The Professor rose as if touched by electricity, and threw out his hands. The table rolled over with a crash. The bleeding body fell to the Hoor, and then, to the Professor's great relief, vanished. The Professor ran to the door and barred it, as if he feared lest the body should re-enter there. Then he ran back to the windows, and, seeing that they were shut, heaved a sigh of relief. A few min- utes later he was already in bed. But try as he would, he could not gain the sleep that he so desired. Thus he had lain in bed until the distant sounds of the church bell informed him he had but four more hours in which to gain some rest. Happily for him, the much-coveted sleep came quite suddenly and lasted for a long time. The Professor awoke at ten o'clock, and con- sequently was late for his classes. All day long the Professor was very irritable, and more irascible than usual. He vented all his ill feelings on the students, who were, however, more or less accustomed to his bursts of ire. Twenty students, at rather unusually large num- ber, failed in an important examination that day because they had neglected to bring the usual bribe he required. It was the custom of Professor Mailkevitch, since he lived so near the university, to sit every evening for an hour in the university library, which was closed in the evening, but to which he had special access. That evening he started out for the library more eager than ever, hoping to lose himself among the numerous volumes and forget the plagueing scene of the murder. He started out at a fast rate, and in less than three minutes he was in front of the library. He walked resolutely up the broad, marble stairs in front of the building, but suddenly stopped as he found himself face to face with the big black iron door. Should he enter the vast rooms of this building all alone? Would not the darkness and the vast emptiness bring up the bloody image again? Oh! But what was he to fear? He knew there were no ghosts. He had always laughed at the mere mention of them. And he was neither superstitious nor imaginative. What he had seen the night before was only a vision of his distracted brain. But now he was cool, he had nothing to fear. The main corridor in the front 13