Morris High School - Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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F... , V i F 5 Q li i E l if . THE SUB WAY SPECTER the horror that was written on his countenance to those about him. In that condition he entered the loealg in that condition I saw him, and was lilled with horror at the sight. 4'One hundred and eightieth street-last stop l bawled the guard sleepily. I stretched my limbs and arose. 4' What a strange fantasy IH I thought' Mosiis NAGELBERG, 5-5 MQ Zero W'il7L apologies to Robert Louis SI'0'Uf'7lS07l' 5 I have a little zero that goes into class Q EZ' With me, . ....! And what can be the use of him is more than I can see, He is very, very tinyg but he means a Whole, whole lot, And when they say he's valuable, Why that's a bunch of rot. The funniest thing about him is the Way he likes to grow- Not at all like nines and tens, which are A always very slowg thi For he gets so big and round sometimes- large as a rubber ball A! F But he never gets so little that therels none ,, M J of him at all. I ' ' , He hasn 't got a notion, of how eareful. he must be, For he queers most everybody, especially he queors xx ii! Q . 8' w-L' n....f1:?5? Ti-sigl .iid ,Hmm H f ,L .ft gh VITA? 'Q Q92 ff Q' an X Q 1 Illia! EI II if 19 II16. Q ,ff He's always hanging round me, 'pears he likes me I e . best of ally But I shiver when l see 'im, I want none o' him ' I ' at all! One morning, very early, this idea eanie in my l head: X I planned to banish zero, so I jumped right out Silt' of bedg A I I studied every morning and I studied every night, 1 ....--v .----- E .... . Until zero married number 1, now everythings j'Qf. all right. V AL. NAXVASKY 32

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I' v' H I THE SUBWAY SPECTER than two hundred. Ah. how our bodies smart from the wounds! You know well how many of us suffered in that massacre. You know well who laid bare our plans, and the plans of the non- revolutionary workingmen,e-who exact this toll of death. ' ' He is with us now-it remains for us to expose this treach- erous dog. It remains- A thunderous rap, a great shower of wood, and the great door of the cellar was splintered, a .troop of soldiers hurling themselves precipitately in, covered the revolutionists with their rifles. The momentary silence which followed this sudden inter- ruption ended in a sudden rush for the weapons which lay piled in the corners. Shots rang outg soldiers and revolutionists fell. The torches went out, and there ensued a terrible struggle in the pitchy darkness of the cavern. Clashing of swords, gunshots, groans, and shrieks of triumph rent its damp cold air. Suddenly the lights were relit, and their dim rays illumincd a scene of awful carnage. The dead, the dying, and the wounded were strewn about on the floor, and blood flowed freely around them. Those who were sevcrly injured were wriggling back and forth on the ground, in an agony of pain. The soldiers, who had apparently won the iight, were roughly pushing their captives through the splintered door. There was but one revolu- tionist who seemed to be free. Upon his pale face there was the semblance of a smile, not one of joy, but of terror supreme. Was he the traitor to his cause, and the friend of the soldiers? From amidst the wounded who were lying on the ground, one man feebly rose, and stealthily followed the procession. From his fiery eyes which flashed out Vengeance! g from his clenched fists which threatened Vengeance! , it was apparent that his purpose was Vengeance. And that Vengeance was directed against the betrayer of the revolutionists. That poor wrctch was doomed to be followed always, and everywhere, by the representative of Vengeance. From Russia into Siberia, and through that land of desolation, across its frozen steppes, to elude that ever-following shadow: going over the Pacific, into Canada and across it, into America and across again, to San Francisco, to the Rio Grande, to verdant Florida, and finally entering that great, bustling city of New York: to lose a pursuing enemy and forget a haunting past. But this enemy clung to him as did his very shadow, haunting him in his hours of wakefulness, and in his hours of sleep. Always wearing that horrible look of fear, he rode about, transmitting 31

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111 A Gift ilirnm 61121 consolately with his nosi pressed against the window pane, looking out upon the lucy, bleak stieets p was -1 may w ien the brightest found it hard to keep cheery, one of those occasions when Second Prize in Qui Vive Short Story f,'nnlr'sl N an Orphanage on B- Street, a child sat dis- ,, , ' It . 1 I ,, n , every available game was played over and over aglain, when each kindly mother iracked her brains to devise some means of bringing back the smile to the little face she loved so much. It had rained and rained and showed no intention of stopping. The small sufferer at the window was a handsome little fellow of seven, blaue-eyed, yellow-haired and sturdy, with the cherubie expression of childhood. But now that baby face wore a scowl. A shout from the inside, and a bevy of little parcntless children crowded round him with a Tum, Lawry, we gonna pay a new game, and l gonna pay too. from a lisping. cherry- eheeked baby, and an t'Aw, come on and play. I bet you ean't win me, from an older boy. , But Lawrence Bryan waved them all aside with the imperi- ousness of a king. It was plain to be ,seen that in spite of his tender years he was their leader. t'D6ii 't bother me nowl' spake the young chief. You play without me, old pals, I gotta tink about sompingf' A few tried to remonstrate but he was obdurate, and soon the determined little boy was left to himself, the procession going out in disappointed silence. A But children all the world over quickly forget their momen- tary diseomfitures and soon they could be heard shouting and laughing with childish glee. Not so our little hero: he sat in deep thought, occasionally expressing his sentiments out loud in a ehirping little voice. Like so many others this little boy hungered for the love that he eould not remember: the love that is highest, purest, most precious, the love most often visited by sacrifice, the love that every good man holds sacred above all -mother love. i'Yes. l gonna wun away and find a mama, to kiss me goodnight, every night, like the dear sweet mama in here, Qtingering a raggedlittle bookj. That night, the rain abating somewhat, a little tigure could be seen, tightly clutching a small bundle. stealthily creeping away from a place where childhood is spent in a way far dif- ferent from the way it should be spent. mAh , with a heart- 33 -f' 41- A... . ,.i. -..aa H+, ,.