Reading Memorial High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Reading, MA)

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The Pioneer Page Seventeen ing the house on all sides, were fire¬ men. Firemen, big and little, stood around clad in rubber coats and hel¬ mets. I think they had rubber boots on, too, and there were numbers on their coats. Yes, undoubtedly, they were firemen. There was nothing alarming about these firemen. They were simply fire¬ men. But why were they there in front of my house, in back of my house, all around my house? There was no fire. Why should firemen be there? Then I remembered. Yes, there it was; the gong coming back again. As sure as fate, that strangely equipped apparatus was returning. As if drawn by the thread of Destiny, it turned the corner at the top of the hill and was dashing down upon the firemen. What firemen? Where were they? Vanished into the air. How in the w T orld was I alone to cope with such a strange quartette as this? I couldn’t do it. I may have screamed. However, I jumped over the edge, (jiant hands reached out and clutched and held me. Still the bell rang. I kicked furiously and cried out. I awoke on the floor, wrapped in the bed-clothes. Big Ben was telling me it was five o’clock. R. SHEPARDSON ’16. DOWN WITH SLAVERY! Slavery still exists among us. It not only exists, it flourishes even as it did in the South “befo’ de war.” I refer, gentle reader, to the slavery of fashion. But wait, it is not of feminine fash¬ ions, with their fleeting and much dis¬ cussed changes that I am to speak, it is rather of a custom, prevalent among the masculine element of our popula¬ tion, the custom of wearing around the neck a high, white, stiffly-starched linen collar, for no more evident pur¬ pose than that of propping up the chin of the wearer; or, in the case of V-neck collars, the adam’s apple. I, personally of an iconoclastic turn of mind, have always loathed “con¬ traptions,” for such they are indeed; and although driven by the exigencies of my environment to become accli¬ mated to them, have nevertheless wished most heartily for their down¬ fall, which,. I firmly believe, would bring an era of unparalleled prosper¬ ity to this country. I will now set forth my reasons for this belief. At a rough guess, there are about fifty million males in this country, at least ten million of whom are within white-collar zones. At two collars per week, two cents per collar, fifty-two weeks per year, twenty million eight hundred thousand dollars is transfer¬ red from the pockets of our tax payers to those of the bloated laundry trust. Not only this, but at one hour per month per man, thus allowing for times when the collars could wait, one hundred twenty million precious hours are lost, absolutely lost, annually, by going for the collars. On this alone there might be based an argument for the complete extirpation of the vari¬ ety of collar mentioned, but who can calculate the value of the characters, ruined beyond repair every day, and solely by a buttonhole too stiffly starched, or a tie that would not slide.

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Page Sixteen The Pioneer The nurse hesitated a moment be¬ fore she spoke, but it seemed hours to Jim. “He—he is still unconscious,” she replied faintly. “I don’t know—I— you—he is just a little worse I think— his heart action isn’t regular—he—I don’t know—” She left quickly and he stood there thinking. What did she mean? Could it be that Jimmy, his own little Jimmy, was going to—? He strove to fight off that word, but it was useless. Was Jimmy going to die? Jimmy, bright, frolicking, little Jimmy, who was al¬ ways into mischief. He forgave all Jimmy’s pranks and prayed so that the Lord would save him. To think of being alone in the world! His wife, Nellie, had died when Jimmy was only six months old. The thought alone of losing his only com¬ fort and joy left him with a dull, ach¬ ing pain in his heart. Absently he went out into the gar¬ den and noticed the flowers in full bloom. That was a strange time to re¬ joice over it but he smiled and smelled of them. Then he passed on to the road where Jimmy was struck, but something drove him away. He met the postman and found a letter from the owner of the auto asking if Jimmy was better. Jim wondered if he was. As he walked on he found some blueber¬ ries and remembering that Jimmy liked them, he picked some and put them in his hat. Then he turned back. In the garden he picked some flow¬ ers and was just getting up when a white figure dashed out the back door. Jim’s hear sank—he knew that Jimmy was go—ing. No—the nurse was smiling. She rushed up and said, “Oh, Mr. Bradley, he opened his eyes a lit¬ tle and his heart is stronger! I am sure he is better.” Quickly Jim walked in and laid the flowers and berries on a chair by his boy. Jimmy’s eyes were closed fast, but they were closed in slumber. Jim caught his breath in a little sigh as he thought how nearly he had lost him. He kissed his forehead and smiling at the nurse, turned to go out, but be¬ fore he reached the door a muffled but contented little voice came from the bed, “Hulloa, Daddy.” FRANCIS B. SHEPARDSON, 1918. BIG BEN. Outside the hotise was a dim, un¬ canny light. All was silent. Then suddenly there came to my ears the sound of a gong clanging in a dis¬ tance. Nearer and nearer it approached until finally, with a burst of noise there came into view the source of this furious clangor—a vehicle not unlike a racing-gig, madly speeding up the street that lies perpendicular to mine along the crest of the hill. As I followed it with my eyes, I -was startled, then I shuddered. For in the gig as it flashed past there seemed to be a white rabbit, pounding the bell with its foot and lashing wildly with the reins its fleet-footed steeds, three bears. It was gone, and something more at home demanded my attention. I looked about me and there, surround

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Page Eighteen The Pioneer Therefore I cry, with all the strength of my lungs, “DOWN WITH SLAVERY.” W. SYLVESTER ’17. “ADVERTISING.” Advertising of the present day is a combination insult and blessing. This varied and monotonous part of the average civilian’s daily life is carried on in newspapers, street-cars, and on fences which would enjoy their exis¬ tence a deal better without this gaudy superfluity. It is also to be found extensively on the sides of dilapidated and weather-beaten structures crowd¬ ed in among several notices to “POST NO BILLS.” Perhaps the most common forms which have been put before the pub¬ lic, however, are those found in the daily papers, causing an interesting paragraph to be “Continued on Page ■-,” and thus attracting the casual (?) glance of the startled and irritated pursuer of information. In order to tease and belabor the minds of peaceful and law-abiding citizens, the street-car companies have arranged to locate an elaborate and varied border of this commodity on each side of the interior of their cars. Who is he who cannot boast of at least one stiff neck derived from conscientiously and attentively re¬ garding an advertisement of some “Home Necessity” as may have caught his eye in the street-cars? Yet with all of the preceding for¬ malities, advertising has its good points. It puts before our minds in more or less attractive form, all the ancient and modern varieties of shoe- polish, stove-blacking, soap, and face- powder. Anything from a hat-pin or a package of breakfast food to a safety razor or an automobile, may be located in this compulsory com¬ pendium of useful information. More¬ over, if it were not for advertising, we would doubtless be unable to get all the latest news for one little red cop¬ per coin. Various forms of advertising pre¬ vail, but most of them contain their subject with all its glory of colored ink, printed in type many times the size of Great Pica. Many an other¬ wise aspiring and capable poet has been spoiled for all future application and usefulness by composing verses and rhymes for advertisements. Thus we may see that while “ads” explaining the latest breakfast foods, “free from germs,” are a blessing to hygeinic Twentieth Centuryites, it is an insult to those who must tolerate the infernal contrivance for spoiling perfectly amiable tempers. ORVIS H. SAXBY ’17. He was a careless fellow. He came into the room, his boots all mud, for¬ got that there was a mat outside the door, threw his hat into one chair, his gloves into another, his books on the table, one of which went sliding to the floor with a bang, and evidently was to remain there for a while. He stamped out into the kitchen, like an elephant, went straight for the pantry, took out the cake-pail, removed as much of the cake as he thought his big mouth could devour, left the pail on the table, cover off, and pantry