Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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'T ll ll l '1 : 35i5:E:2EE5i5 5 A':. Eziizifii ' nmlllml Ill' i ima il Illlitfllll ll iisl:'Ill'l1l-i1,,ltll1,illll Two teachers came out together, and one was saying, I must hurry, because I have to get back at 1:50, on account of Caemrf' Of course Caesar was flattered, and decided to go in early, and get him- self a good seat before the crowd re- turned. He found a seat, settled down, and thought he would have a little nap be- cause he was tired out. He soon dozed off, and was dreaming about the time the Romans wanted to crown him. He was iust about to try the crown on his head, when, because it was so heavy, it woke him up. He tried to move, but could not, because the seat he had selected for himself belonged to a fat girl, who had returned and sat down on him while he was dreaming about the crown. This was a very uncomfortable situa- tion for a shade, and he wondered how one could get out of it. He didn't want to make a fuss, for fear some one might notice it, and accuse him of being 'am- bitious' tbesides, all the other seats were occupiedj. After awhile, the fat girl stood up to say I come to bury Caemr, no! to pmife him. Then the shade took his chance to get unburied and slip out, and he stood in the doorway the rest of the hour. Everybody spoke familial-ly of Caesar, and the shade guessed that he must be a great favorite. At the close of the hour, he Went out with the class, thinking he was with friends. In the hall he heard a boy say to another boy, I know I'll flunk on that Old CdEJ!lT, , and another one said, Gee, I hate f:dE.YLl7'.!H This was more than the sensitive Shade could stand, and he hurried back to Shadow- land. - Lea' Dalian, '26. The Brifter Like the proverbial stone, Peter Fad- den had rolled much but had gathered no moss. He had tramped and sailed his way around the World, a solitary Way and a lonely one. His curious eyes had seen far and wide the natural beauties of many continents. He had journeyed through lands filled with unfamiliar faces, and through countries of queer customs. The West Indies, the Ber- mudas, the Philippines, Madagascar, New Zealand, Iapan, Koreag they all were his. The island, the wilderness, the desert, the tropics, - he had seen them all. He had dreamed beneath drowsy Southern skies, and had shivered where the tongued lights lick the Northern black- ness. The natives had turned to look at Peter Fadden, for in those days he pos- sessed a handsome face and a stalwart figure. That was before old age had thinned his hair and shrivelled his fea- tures. As he roamed among them, he was called The Drifter, and that name seemed more real to him than his other name. He liked to be called The Drifter. It was at sun-down of a day in mid- October that Peter Fadden stopped roll- ing. It was then that he found work as furnace tender at Taylor's Orphan Home. With the work went food, overalls, and a bed in the cellar near the furnace. From pity had the portly and motherly matron of the Home engaged the old man. He had come and begged for some menial task that brought with it the surety of remaining in one place. He had had a wistful look in his eyes when he told her of his wanderings, and how that now, with the advancing years, he wished a definite place in which to stay and await the call that he knew was coming soon. On hearing his tale, the matron sobbed sympathetically in tender, motherly fashion, and then, lest she awaken the babies that were sleeping in the white nursery next to the office, She hustled him off to the cellar to show him that necessary part of the institution. S0 old Peter Fadden became furnace tender at Taylor's Urphan Home, and The Drifter was moored. Except for his eyes, Peter Fadden was not a very attractive person. His rather short ti ure had been bent and sadly weatherieaten by the storms of an un- sheltered life, and when he walked he

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ilwa ' Wifi' a nnl:i1ma i'g:rMlying w1 : fWi 'i lllm fl ll lllllll!'ll 'lll 'll ll g tllllllttlll . ll If 1111132 Raiser Qmzrungen At Amerongen the sunlight glow Finds refuge in the castle halls, And plays in careless levity About the grimly brooding walls. II. The quiet woods of Amerongen Are green with summer's happy grace, The calm canals at Amerongen Reflect the spendichiuds grimace. And ever in the summer joy, A solitary figure strays, With bowed head and humble tread, Along the blithesorfig woodland ways. And oft the creatures of the wood Appear, to taunt his silver hairs, But more to pain his wretched heart, And weighten burdepls that he bears. And oft the woods are peopled with A host of angry fantasies, That writhe and plead and weep and die And drown the forest harmonies. VI. Anon the old man rests himself, And tries to think of gladder things, Of glories that will come again, Of lustrous joys that power brings. VII. But soon with rancor crowding back The baleful fancies, leering, come To persecute and tortue 'till His heart is bled, his speech is dumb. VIII. 'Tis thus in daylight's gladsome hours, When mocking sunbeams taunt his gaze, 'Tis thus in nighttime's mystic voices, When restive shadows haunt his ways. IX. 'Tis thus and ever thus throughout The smiles and tears of countless days, And echoes whisp'ring spitefully Say that it will be thus always. X. Alwaysl 'Tis thus ambition serves The man that to her gave his soull The broken man of Amerongen In passing, pays eternal toll. -- Traver: Hand, '23, Qlaesar in Iaigb Suzhou! Iulius Caesar had been gone from this earth since 44 B. C. He had long lived the quiet life, and had not heard much news from Earth since he left. He had learned, however, from some shades who came in lately, that the Racine High School building was still standing, and that it was still densely populated - or that the population there was still dense -Caesar was not quite sure which way they said it. One thing about it he did understand clearly, and that was that Caesar had not been forgotten there, but was constantly talked of, by pupils and teachers. This made the shade of Caesar so restless, that he knew he could never be happy again until he had revisited the Earth and the Racine High School to hear what they were saying about him there. He wanted to start at once, but another younger shade reminded him that it was Washington's Birthday, and that there was never school on holidays, so he waited until the next day. Caesar's shade had forgotten that Racine had Central time, which is an hour later than Eastern time, and when he arrived at the High School at ten o'clock the next morning Qthinking it was only nine? he found the building so crowded that even his shade could not get in, therefore hung around the out- side of the building all morning and looked in at the windows. Once when a boy dropped some ink and yelled, Great Caesar's Ghostln he thought he was discovered. He looked in at another window, and saw a girl writing. He heard her mutter, Great Caesarln He thought she must be writing him a letter, and he was anxious to see what she had written. He was disappointed to find that she was only trying to make X minus Y, equal to Z plus four. When the crowd rushed out at noon, it reminded Caesar of a crowd he saw ahead of him when he took a trip to Gaul one time.

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continually bobbed up and down, as if acknowledging applause. His eyes were a soft brown, and they had the habit of peering anxiously at everyone, as a lost dog, looking for his master, intently watches each approaching stranger. It may have been due to his voluntary celibacy, it may have been due to his more or less involuntary loneliness, but let it be said that old Peter's outstanding characteristic was his great love for babies. And his love for babies brought him to his death. It was a morning of sunshine in March. The sap was starting to run, and the buds of the beech trees were fairly drip- ping with stickiness. From the highest trees the early birds were pouring music on the heads of the unsuspecting. Peter was working in the garden, breaking ground for planting, and it was as he labored there that the idea came to him. The latticed windows of the nursery were open to allow the Spring air to enter, and as he listened, Peter heard one of the babies cry. Lifting his head to hear better, he smiled with his broken teeth, for the cooing of the babies now came to him distinctly. He laid down his shovel and cocked his head. Then he tottered stealthily toward a side door of the building that led directly into the great, white-walled nursery. Turning the knob of the door, he entered the room. It was filled with long rows of tiny white beds, and in each there lay a baby. He went from cot to cot, smiling down at the red faces and squinting eyes, and sometimes he laid a crooked finger in a dimpled hand, laughing brokenly when the baby gurgled and squeezed it. Darned little cuss, he muttered, darned little cuss. He passed on, gazing at each one in turn. When he found one sleeping, he tiptoed quickly away. Finally he came to the end of the line, and was at the crib of the baby that had been crying. He saw at a glance how small it was, so much smaller than the others. Its face was pitifully white and drawn, and when- ever it coughed, it raised its feeble arms above its head in a spasm of pain. As if to exclude the unwelcome light, its eyes were shut tightly. Old Peter lifted it very gently from the crib and cradled it in his arms. The baby turned and clutched his blue shirt with uncanny strength. Then the tears came to Peter's eyes, blurring them so the sickly face of the child was lost in a haze. He kissed the drawn forehead and laid the child carefully back on the bed. The office door opened suddenly as he was about to leave the room, and the matron entered. She looked with amaze- ment at the old man. Peterl No answer. Peter, l'm sorry to find you here again. The old man was studying his shoe. Why have you disobeyed me, Peter? Do you remember the last time I found vou herefli' it The old man nodded but kept his eyes on the floor. Wl1at did l say you must do, if you were tound here again? Leave, whispered the old man. Then why are you here?U He looked at her lon in lv. I-I like g gt Y ' I ' Y, em. I didn t mean nothing. Her motherly heart was touched for the moment, but her official position could not allow leniency. She spoke to him quietly but kindly. l'm sorry, but you'll have to leave, Peter. He bowed and shuffled from the room. With pitying eyes she watched him go, and then she turned to the sick baby. lts white clothes were soiled where Peter's dirty hands bad heen placed, but its face was as white as the pillow on which its head rested. She uttered a sigh and bent over the infant. It was dead. Out in the street the dusk was padding the sun-drenched ground with darkness. Factory whistles competed hoarsely, and