Oshkosh High School - Index Yearbook (Oshkosh, WI)

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DECEMBER I X 1 ) E X NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN Come on, fellows, here is the paper and my contribution, urged Jack, as he displayed a coin. That is how eleven boys in Texas, from a pure desire for something to do, came to write letters to France. Before the letters were written, many an additional idea was formed, and thus quite a package was assem- bled containing money and other gifts. The boys addressed the package and bundles of letters to The Most Needy Person in France. After won- dering what the inspectors would think of it, they posted the missile, little realizing what good it might do. It was Christmas in Paris. Never had a sadder Christmas Day dawned on that city; cold, hunger, agony, grief, and despair were everywhere evi- dent It was the coldest day of the season and the fuel was low. In such circumstances the .American Hostel for Refugees in Paris found itself, and well the supporters of this institute might be troubled trying to bring cheer and comfort to the three thousand who had fled to them for aid. This insti- tute had sent an appeal to America for money and clothing, and it was on that source that their hope rested. Many answers to the appeal had already come, but still there were many more to provide for. One of the distributers of the aid which American citizens ha d sent was looking and longing for a special sort of gift on this certain Christmas. She wanted something which would be suitable for a family of five, who were formerly people of means. This particular family had taken her fancy, especially a girl of eighteen, Jean Gilbert by name. Jean was the sole life and joy of the Gilbert household, who seemed to feel their wretched povertv-stricken state more than the poorer class. In fact, the Gilbert ' s really shrank from taking assistance or charity, as they deemed it. Miss Harper, the distributer, had noticed that even Jean was losing her happy spirit of late and that her smile, which had always been spontaneous, now seemed forced. It is no wonder that Miss Harper longed for some indi- vidual gift which would not seem charitable, but would have a personal and individual charm. It was then that the Wisconsin boys ' package from Texas caught her eye. When she saw the letters, she knew they would take away the sting of the money which they also brought. After erasing the inscription which the boys had placed upon the package, she addressed and sent it to the Gilbert ' s. Cautiously, but with growing interest, Jean opened the package. Oh! she cried, letters, letters for us; the first letter I have received for a year. The whole family seemed to share Jean ' s enthusiasm and read and re- read the letters, laughing and crying at the same time. The gifts were divided as best they could be, and the money went to pay for the ten-dollar rent which they had to pay every month for their one-room dwelling. That Page nineteen

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I) E C E .M B E l; I X 1 1 E X NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN A Composite Christmas Box IT was Thanksgiving in Texas, but, as far as the Second Wisconsin Regi- ment was concerned, it was not a real day of thanks. There was no snow on the ground, the air was not keen and frosty, nor were there any of the home friends to greet them. Thanksgiving in Texas was a real no velty to the boys of Wisconsin. The first part of the day had been so full of hustle and bustle that no one had had time to miss the usual observ- ance of the day. Then, too, most of the boys had received boxes from home, which brought with them many of the delicious dainties for which that day is famous. The rations themselves had been of a holiday sort. Even more diverting had been the Thanksgiving game, which roused that excitement and enthusiasm which always accompany football games. When the sun went down it seemed that the light and happiness had both disappeared with it, for a dead silence pervaded the tent which the football team occupied. Why so silent? questioned Jack Mann of Peter Mopp, who was usually a jovial youth, but upon whose face a thundercloud rested. Who said I was looking solemn? snapped Peter. That is the time you gave yourself away, joked Long Smith in a half-hearted manner. Doesn ' t seem to me that any of you would be mistaken for sunbeams on account of your cheerful expressions, retorted Peter, who felt he needed some defense. Laugh in the morning, cry before night, philosophized Thomas Thomson, of whom it was said, that he never spoke without quoting a maxim. That philosophy stuff is all right in its place, grumbled Peter, but what I want is something interesting. Oh! a place for everything and everything in its place, mocked Thomas. If you want something interesting, why don ' t you do something for — well — say, for someone else? Sounds good for Sunday School, Rev. Minny Stir, but please tell me what a bunch of ' Gloomy Gusses ' like us can do to brighten up the world? challenged Peter sarcastically. It does not seem to me that anyone could be more downright glum than this bunch. Maybe the poor Alaskans, and the dirty tenement children, and, — The Belgians, completed Peter. There is many a truth spoken in jest, added Jack half seriously. I say, why not write some letters and add a few farthings to send anony- mously to Europe? They might get there by Christmas, jested Peter; then he added in a different tone, We surely could not make their plight sadder. Page eighteen

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D E C E II I! 10 l; 1 N II K X NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN night when Miss Wharton opened the Gilbert door and peeped in, she saw that Jean ' s face had again tal en on its happy expression, and she bowed reverently as she heard her repeat that old Christmas poem: For lo, the days are hast ' ning on, By prophet bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold; When peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendours fling. And the whole earth give back the song Which now the angels sing. E. M. S., ' 17. The Seasons The year ' s awakening is here, When verdure, bud, and flower appear; Then cold and wintry winds are stilled. And earth with pulsing life is filled. ' Tis spring! When hay lies heaped in fragrant mounds. And earth seems filled with drowsy sounds; The wind ' s soft whisper in the trees. The droning hum of wandering bees, ' Tis summer! The sky is bright blue overhead; The leaves a golden glory shed; Though ' tis the twilight of the year. The earth is filled with joy and cheer. ' Tis autumn! But soon comes Storm King ' s icy blast, The trembling leaves to earth are cast; The trees toss wildly in the gale Which loudly moaning seems to ivail. ' Tis winter! R. L. Pag ' e lweiit '