Newtown High School - Bugle Yearbook (Newtown, CT)

Page 12 text:

O 10 T H E B U G L E A Psalm zn Geometry ,J C, HOEVER is my teacher, I shall not pass, QUAUP She maketh me to explain hard propositions, jf And exposeth my ignorance to the class, She restoreth my sorrow. figs? She causes me to draw parallelograms For my class' sakeg yea, tho' I study till midnight I shall gain no knowledge, For originals trouble me, Pyramids and prisms distress me, She prepareth a test before me in the presence of the Freshmen, She giveth me a low mark: Surely, distress and sadness shall follow me all the years of my life, And I shall remain in the Class of Geometry- I Forever. School Calendar Monday morning: Late to Class. Tuesday: A quiz--I didnlt pass. Wednesday: Considered a two-hour date. Thursday: Found it didn't rate. Friday: Flunked another test. Saturday: My day of rest. Tomorrow I shall sleep till one, Another week of toil is done. School !.' F ierce lessons L ate hours U nexpected company N ot prepared K icked out. ELIZABETH ROCKWELL, '30

Page 11 text:

THE BUGLE 9 Slowly Gert sat down and swept the room with a practical eye. Gradually she made out the figures of at least four other men, still and silent, menacing. Mug Rileyls gang! Using her as a decoy, the dirty crooks. She started involun- tarily as the outer door opened and shut. Suppose that were Joe! Sheld have to warn him. But that dark blotch by the doorway was one, of the most cold- blooded murderers in the city. When a feminine laugh tinkled in the hallway, she was so relieved that she almost fainted. 4 The next second renewed the ordeal. The front door opened and shutg a masculine tread approached the cloakroom. mln here, you say? . V Yes, sir, hang it on any hook. The young lady is waiting for you in the main sitting roomf' , The knob rattled. In a second, handsome, iiashily dressed Joe Williams would be weltering in his blood upon that spotless carpet. If Gert screamed, he would come to avenge her-get killed himself! No, she must not scream. She jumped up. A spurt of flame cut the murk. The walls rang. Outside there was the sound of retreating footsteps, the slam of a door, silence. Two a. m. struck in the church tower. Four shadows detached themselves from the denser shadows of R. B. F rank's warehouse and advanced stealthily toward the closely shuttered house. Suddenly one of the shadows threw itself on the ground. Duck, Joe! The short stocky shadow turned fiercely. 'fDuck? Duck from that? Illl break him in half with these two hands, the dirty sneak! He broke into a run, convulsed with fury. Rat-rat-tat-tat-stumbled, staggered, fell. He moaned, 'tMurder my dame, will he? I'll kill with my-hands-dirty- WILLIAM EDYVIN CUTLER, '3O. :Qi Q W E Z I V fi uf X If X .-57, ff to A F

Page 13 text:

95 XP T H E B U G L E 11 An Ideal Christmas OU know, Bob, today has been mighty different from that Christmas 5, .,, day thirty years ago. Why, with all these fittings and folks and -. ' The speaker was Matt Henderson-that queer old gent and l96er, who lived alone next door. Because he lived so near, he was the last guest i WN D to leave the Radleysl small dinner party. t'Mrs. Radley, you remind me so much of my Bethwsmall, fair and so sweet-oh! I shall never forget -. Our cabin was three miles from Goldstalk, the small town whose population consisted mainly of friends, the Vermonters and other New Englanders. Beth went to the village on the afternoon before Christ- mas and took little Bess, who had just turned seven, with her. She spent the afternoon with a friend and, as it started to snow about three, she decided it was best to come home early. When about a mile from the cabin, she slipped, rolled down a sharp incline and landed on some rocks beneath. Bess was afraid to go, or even to attempt to go down to her mother, but when her mother didnlt respond to her calls, Bess hurried on to the cabin. I was at the claim at the time and it was several hours before we reached home and still later when we reached Beth. She was frozen stiff and covered with snow. All through the night I sat by her bedside hoping that there would be one spark of life left in that dear frail body. Of course it would be useless to even try to break through to town and the doctor would not come, or could not be persuaded to follow back. ' Nevertheless, my prayers were answered. Toward dawn Beth stirred a trifle and in that small voice-oh! I can hear it now. fBess, my little baby! Matt ll Somehow or other I told her to lie still and she would be all right, but no, she arose in the bed a little. 'No, no Matt, Ilm going to die-I know-oh, please get the little rag dolly I made for Bess-yes, in the Wooden box Cher voice was growing lower and less audible nowl. Oh, Matt-and you, Matt, youlve been so good! Take care of her, won't you? Merry Christmas, dear-I know it will be the last. Oh, God, bless-' With one little sigh she dropped back on that horrid bed and I then knew she was gone. Old Matt slowly brushed the tear drops from his cheeks and Bob and Jane found themselves doing the very thing-no more gracefully. 'tYou poor man, said Jane pityingly. 'tNo, no, my dear Mrs. Radley. I appreciate your sympathy but really I can't bother you any longer, I must go. With this he rose and turned to go but with one quick gasp and a shrill cry he fell to the floor. t'Bob, screamed jane, why-he must be dead-look-oh-and just thirty years ago-oh, Bob! MARJORIE MACCLYMON, '30. l 1