Paxton High School - Reflector Yearbook (Paxton, IL)

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PAT QUOTATIONS To be grave exceeded all power of her face.—Helen Nelson, I ois Ricn- ards. A quiet, good, thoughtful, sincere lad.—Kenneth Hathaway. Tongue nor heart can conceive or name them.—Exams. Her very look is full of smiles.— Ruby Shelby. The poor have ye always with you. —The Foot Ball Team. Nothing like being popular with the ladies.—Raymond Kirkpatrick. Lowly and meek, patiently suffering all things.—Sophomore Girls. Of all the men who ever lived. I’d do the proper thing.—V. E. D. He’s lictle, but Oh my! its enough. - -Earl Carlson. Perhaps I am no student, but I make a hit with the girls.—Verne Healy. Please go ’way and let me sleep.— William Flora. Did you ever notice how curly her eyelashes are?—Howard McCracken. A perfect type of verdant, efflores- cent, effervescent freshy.—Theo. Lund- gren. Truth is mighty—mighty scarce.— Frank Horner. Her work—roller-skating, her pas- time, studying.—Too numerous to mention. I was just fooling.—Ted. Apt in His Latin. A member of the Caesar class was recently detained at home by illness. A Freshman friend called upon him and sympathetically said, Sick, eh?’’ Yes’’, replied the Latin student, Sic sum.” A little Freshman has a dog by the name of Caesar. We Sophomores say. Kill the deg, or change his name!” When this Freshman reaches the dig- nity of a Sophomore, and becomes ac- quainted with the works of the noble Roman whose name the dog bears, he will realize that we are just in mak- ing this demand.

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!HI'. PAXTON HIGH SCHOOL REFLECTOR na are’s noblemen. —Maud—The minister says there i 5 no marrying in heaven. Mabel—Of course not. There wouldn’t be enough men to go around. Women’s faults are many. Men have only two— Everything they say And everything they do. A watch may have no gender, But you really can’t efface The fact that, nearly always, There’s a woman in the case. A pair in a hammock Attempted to kiss. And in less than a jiffy •sjqi papuBi .fam Don’t trouble yourself to stretch your mouth any wider, said the den- tist. I Intend to stand on the outside to draw the tooth. you don’t know who I am. I’m the president of this road. My face is my ticket. Conductor—Very well, sir, I’m ord- ered to punch all tickets. A newly captured horse thief Dangling from a lofty tree; In a whisper hoarse, he muttered “This suspense is killing me.” Teacher—Tommy, tell me the name of the tropical belt north of the equa- tor. Tommy: Can’t sir. Teacher—That’s right. Faith, said the Irish policeman, ex- amining a broken window, “This is more sayrious thin Oi thought it was! It’s broke on both sides.’’ Teacher—What tense do I use when i say, “I am beautiful.” Pupil—Remote past. Ha, I will fool the bloodhounds yet, cried the fugitive hoarsely, and slip- ping on a pair of rubbers, h£ erased his tracks. Bessie—He was very impudent. He put his arm around me twice. Jessie—Why! what a long arm he must have! Farmer Hayseed (in city reading sign)—“Cast iron sinks.” Any fool knows that. Friend—Your son played on the foot ball team at college. Fond Mamma—Yes. Friend—Quarterback ? Fond Mamma—Oh, yes;, hes’ nearly all back. You see he only lost an ear and a thumb. Passenger—(starting up): Perhaps “What would you say,” began a vol- uble prophet of now, “If I were to tell you that in a very short space of time all the rivers in the country would dry up? I should say: “Go thou and do likewise.” Latin Puns Dean Swift used to amuse himself by making Latin puns, as well as in manufacturing “sunlight out of cu- cumbers.” Here are a few of them which the English student can easily translate by making some allowance for false spelling, pronunciation and syllabication: Mollis abuti. Has an acuti. No lasso finis, Molli divinis. Omi de armis tres Imi na dis tres. Cantu disco ver Meas alo ver

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THE PAXTON HIGH SCHOOL REFLECTOR THE STORY OF DIDO’S MISFOR- TUNES (Translated from Virgil by Georgia Strebeck.) Long is the tale of injustice of Dido the Tyrian queen. Numerous are the details, and tearful, too, I ween. But the most important facts I shall now here relate And try to tell you how she was pur- sued by fate. Sychaeus was her husband, who was very rich in lands; While Dido was yet a maiden, her father gave him her hand. He loved this hapless Dido. Ah, little did he know. What hatred her brother Pygmalion toward him did cruelly show. A feud now rose between them, and, blinded by love of gold, Pygmalion stabbed Sychaeus, like an innocent sheep in the fold. He did this bloody crime, and he mocked the heart-sick wife, So cruel with empty hope, so guilty of taking life. Alas, how loving Dido found out this cVuel crime Was through Sychaeu's ghost, who came to her sleep in time, his face was strangely pale, his ba e and bloody breast Was pierced by the cold steel spear, which thro’ this heart did rest. He persuaded her to flee from her ancient father land; At once she prepared for flight, and gathered together a band. She unearthed long hidden treasures of silver and of gold, Which helped her on her way, and made herself quite bold. They seized the ships that were ready and with treasures loaded them all— The leader of this exploit Queen Dido you may call. They landed on the shore where Car- '9 thage flourished and grew, Where her citadel towered heaven- ward against the sky so blue; Where the walls were huge as moun- tains—Ah, once they were, I say! But time has changed them all, they are not so today. They purchased land—as much 3s they could enclose with the hide Of an ox, which they cut into strips and laid them far and wide. They called this the land of Byrsa, from the name of this very deed. And here there grew and flourished, the true Carthaginean seed. WINTER Gone are the roses of Summer, Gone are the daisies of May; Gone are robins and blue birds, Welcome, O Winter day. Gray are the once turquoise skies, Rude is the once gentle breeze; Cold blows the wind, and fast falls the snow, Bare are the once shady trees. Dumb are the once laughing brooks. Frozen every stream; All the lakes are sleeping, Of by-gone summers they dream. Yet welcome, O winter day! You too must come in the year; Though the beauties of summer are gone. The beauties of Winter are here. Geogia Strekeck, '11 ‘‘You are a brick, I do aver.” Quoth Fred to Bessie at his side. “A sort of pressed brick, as it were” She laughingly replied. A man sent a note to his family physician which read thus: Dear Doctor: My wife’s mother is at death’s door. Please come and pull her through.