New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 15 text:

herman klienhenz QQ O long! Lots of luck. If there was a covert irony in the Warden's voice, it was not premeditated, and neither he nor his parting guest perceived it. The condi- tions in which they stood were not favorable for the percep- tion of fine shades. And the hand-clasp was hearty. It ex- pressed the Warden's sense of loss. For countless years he had known and loved this man, and now he was departing. IDEALS, in the common definition, the Warden had not, but in the ethical note of prison keepers, he knew what was right, and this man had approximated very near to it. His resigned and ttactable spirit in confinement had bespoken the position he once had held. Before their hands parted, the Warden had considered this and more. He recalled the voice of the exposure, the falsification of the books, flight, arrest-then the plea of guilty, and the sentence-since reduced by good behavior. He remembered, too, that there had been political elements in the case and much talk about scapegoats suffering much for other men's sins. But that was all so long ago, and these other men, sinners and saints, were dead and gone to rewards or reckonings. The little wicket in the monstrous studded doors of the prison closed silently and the man stood in the world again. It was early morning in summer and the sun was sailing listlessly over from the east, with only a promise of the opulent splendor of his mid- day awakening. Over the way, there was an Italian with a hand-organ and a monkey, and from nearby came the hoarse chant of a huckster. Stranger To The World ORIGINALLY, the Peniten- tiary had been on the out- skirts of the town, but it was now environed by rows of small dwelling houses and cheap stores. Once it had worn a littingly penal air of seques- tration, now the sombre dig- nity of its grim, gray walls was floured by the tawdry brick of these interloping neighbors. Yet it loomed so far above them that its granite spaces seemed informed with a sar- donic ridicule which relieved the incon- gruity. There came to the free man a vague rec- ognition that during the silent expanse of time which had widened-on the other side of these walls, the world here, only a step from them, had been ceaselessly whirling away, with all its wonted clamors and con- tentions, heedless as ever of the individual atom. It was a shock to realize that only within there, in that still and separate world, there had been no change. He was watching the organ-grinder's monkey and speculating whether its length of chain would reach to where lay a tossed penny, and he was disappointed when the man solved the problem by shifting his posi- tion. PRESENTLY, he found himself walking. He did not realize this until the peremp- tory shrill notes of a horn sounded in his ears and he started back in sudden panic. When the car had whizzed by, he was visibly quaking, but in a moment he was going on again. Although without purpose in his route, this overpowering fear of the trolley cars delayed his progress so that the morning was well advanced when he stood at a corner Thirteen

Page 14 text:

itbe Qllumzt the mountains. His is a questioning mind as opposed to Ishom Gowe, the supreme, self-sufficient egotist. The character of john Semple dominates the story and lends it unity, the final touch which was needed to make the book a pow- david ignatow erful and masterfully written piece of lit- erature. No one who was not thoroughly familiar with the life of the Georgia moun- taineers could have portrayed them with such delicacy. john Fort was eminently fitted for the task. NIGI-IT HE night is a tomb . . . A pale disc, -shimmering in the heavens, encircles and crowns the moon, round and grin- ning. The melancholy glow the moon sheds, dances and wavers on my finger tips, then scurries away with the wind. The cold light lies calmly on the road as the jutting shad- ows lie black on its bosom serene. The shadows cut massive forms and squares and triangles while some lonely Hgures lie long and thin, heads above the mass. Grey giants are etched on the moonlight. They rise from the bowels of the night to stand towering among the stars. These monsters climb and climb through the abyss. They pierce the clouds and stand bareheaded, bathed in the moonlight behind the sispy, silvery clouds. A CAT stalks my steps, a black form upon which the moon plays its ghostly tune. The green eyes are lost in a wall of , imperceptible darkness and soon I heat a T spitting, snarling voice come from the ground and fade away in a wail. A gentlelwind caresses the night, and winds through trees and grass about me. Through the silence of the night a ship whispers hoarsely. I stand in fog and falling dew. A cloak has fallen. A clock strikes the hour, then silence reigns the night till morn. Twelve

Page 16 text:

Ciba Gomer g g in the heart of a business section and watched the crowds press past him. He shrank in the half-shelter of a post with the surreptitious air of one who has no right to be seen. Indeed, he felt vaguely alien and irrelevant, and his forefinger went faltering- ly to his lips, with a motion become ha- bitual. Of all these legions rushing by him, none so much as glanced in his direction, and he wondered why they did not seem to know that he was a lately released felon. He might have found the reason when he fell to studying their faces. The habit of obser- vation had once been keen in him, as it is in many men who constantly handle large sums of money, and even now it was not quite gone. HE saw that only the children wore abso- lutely placid countenances. All others carried a look of preoccupation, often ex- hibiting writhing lips and Hashing eyes or muttering their thoughts in half-audible sen- tences. Once a woman, quite alone, passed near him and he heard her exclaim to her- self, Oh, my! Oh, my! It might have meant only a forgotten pocketbook or a tight shoe, but the tone had a tragic ring. Again, a man talking vigorously to himself swept by, growling. THE None looked toward him, all were igno- rant of his existence, and a great loneliness arose within him. SUDDENLY, an impulse to escape seized him. He felt bound, stifled-as though- as though he were in prison. He turned and fled-first with a rapid stride, afterward breaking into a run when he was away from the crowds. The impulse became uncontrollable. On, on, he sped, throwing startled looks over his shoulder. Once he fancied that a crowd was rushing past him with a great hue and cry, but no one followed. At last, panting and breathless, he drew up in front of his goal. In a subconscious way, he had all the time known whither he was making in his mad flight to escape capture. FOR a moment, he leaned weakly against the little door. Then, with another look over his shoulder he concentrated all his strength and pounded fiercely upon it. The Warden himself appeared and heard the gasp:- I've come back-home! But the Warden shook his head sadly and said:- I have no power to take you in. There is no place for you here now. And he closed the door. END Swv! if 'E' LZ, Q aww. ff' I V Fourteen