Morris High School - Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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Elie Sfuhmag Epntrv HE train rumbled on, speeding swiftly through the dark tunnel, even as my dismal thoughts rushed with lightning rapidity .through the black caverns of my brain. Station after station it passed, breaking from the darkness into the light, and again plunging into the dark. But my thoughts remained in shadow. and I was shrouded in gloom. 1-5 Indeed, my surroundings encouraged this feeling of despondeney. The day had 7 not yet dawned, and consequently my , 'I fellow-passengers were few. Of those few, D Q some were, to all indications and appear- Q J ances, intoxicated. Others swayed back and A A forth trying to maintain their equilibrium, HHS'-'f'1fx A-:www . . . MA' while in the uneonsciousness of sleep. The guard sleepily bawled out the names of the stations as we reached them, accompanying his interesting announcements with me- chanical XVateh-your-step! On my lap was lying a history of Russia, turned down on an account of the outbreak of 1905. The reflections of that fatal 'fRed Sunday, January 22nd, when Russian workingmen were killed in the streets of Petrograd because of their protests, coupled with the surrounding dreari- ness, were sufficient to damp my spirits. As another train gradually outsped ours, a motley panorama of faces passed before me for observation. There, I caught a glimpse of the happy face of a young man with a laughing maiden beside him, then a goggled chap, deeply engrossed in the morning paper, or the broad features of a colored man, interested in the information which the advertisements offered, next to him a burly Irishman, fast asleepg then a man-O! that man! I shudder now, when I call to mind the features of his face. Puckered up and gathered together in the strangest, most awful conglomeration of uncontrollable fear, of great horror, and of extreme disgust, it stared vacantly before it, with a ghastly blankness of expression. That face! Despite its horrible features, it had a magnetic power which compelled my gaze. Finally, l withdrew my eyes from that awful counte- nance, now receding into the darkness of the tube. My thoughts came together, clashed, and became a confused mass. And then- Place :-Petrograd, Russia. Time :-The morning of Jan- uary 23rd, 1905. 29 4.2

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Bas Srhiixwir Minh RAU Kubaeh lcbte in einein Dorf in Deutsvh- land mit ihrem kleinen Sehn, -lzmeb. Sie 7 sehiekte cliesen in die Sehnle. Q G Als die Mutter eines Tnges ani Fenster sass und hinaus schnnte, snh sie Fran Strzniss, eine Nzichbnrin kennnen, die ein 5 kleines Pnket trng. Fran Knlmeh hiitte X A Elpfel gcknuft nnd wellte dein Siihnc-hen k einen schicken. Sie Qing nn die Thr, und Wartete, und als Frau Strauss vcn'beiging', griisste sie dieselbe frcundlivh und fmgte, wohin sie gchc. Ich gehe in die Sehule, denn ich will nieincm Sohn etwas zu essen bringenf' MXVo1len Sie mir den Gcfallen tun und ineinein Jacob einen Apfel bringenlll fragte Frau Kubach. '4Mit 'V01'g11if1g'S1'1,7, antwortctc die Nalehbarin, Haber ieh kenne ihn nicht. Elf ist das sehdnstc Kind in der Schnlef' sagte Jacobs Mutter. Das tue ich recht genie, i1.11lZXVOl ECtC Frau Strauss, und Frau Kubach dnnkte iln' sehr. Sie kaln in die Schule, gab ihreni Sohn das Paketchcn, und ling an, das sch6nste Kind zu suchcn. Sic suvhte und snchte, nbei' sie konnte keinen schijnercn linabcn als den eignen finden, da gab sie ihrem Sohn den Apfel. OLGA EISENSTADT, 8-5 28 EA,

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THE SUBWAY SPECTER Down a long iiight of stairs walked a man, whose face was almost entirely hidden by a large cap pulled down over his eyes, and a great coat collar pulled up over his cheeks. He stopped before a large wooden door at the foot of the stairs. Taking out a small red rag from one of his pockets, he waved it before the square glass panel of the door, once-twice. The massive door turned ponderously on its hinges, and closed again as the man walked in. The place which he had entered was a very large cellar, which had probably been used in former times to store wine, but which now bore an entirely different appearance. Whe1'e the choieest Bordeaux had formerly stood, rifles and guns were now stacked, where the great earthen bottles and jugs of Bur- gundy had previously been put away, daggers were heaped now. The sharp and injurious vodka was replaced by still sharper and more injurious swords. Everywhere were stored implements of war. At the extreme end of the spacious cellar, partially hidden in shadow, an old, graybearded, hoary-headed man was sitting before a small table. The aged man gave vent to his apparent anger by means of repeated and vigorous blows with a mallet upon this small article of furniture, emphasizing with each stroke the full import of his words. His audience, a great crowd of strange-looking Russian men, were squatted on the bare stone iioor, listening respectfully to their leader. As the latter fixed his keen, penetrating eyes upon them, he spoke very heated- ly in the Russian tongue: There is one villain in our midst who has betrayed us, there is one traitor among us who has disclosed our plans, there is one miserable deceiver here with us whd has given up a cause, and surrendered his ideals, for money. He has made us pay in lives, but we shall extort a much greater return, paid in suffering, torture, and extreme mental agony. A general rustle and murmuring arose from the listening crowd, as each one looked with suspicious glances at his neighbor. Brothers, the blood of our comrades is flowing before the Wiiiter Palace. Yesterday, a band of workmen, organized by Father Gapon-noble man lgmarched to the palace to voice their protest against oppression. The troops were there, ready for action, they dispersed the army of strikers. The soldiers, those dealers of death, tired upon our comrades,-upon you, and me-and killed seventy-six of us, besides wounding more 30 ,A-.,