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Page 17 text:
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THE PIONEER PAGE NINE Consider the matter. Procure a horse “Giddyap, Napoleon. It looks like and carriage. Drive slowly around rain.” Reading. We promise to inform you of our presence in the rear. Nuf said, V. H. W. ’30. ON ANSWERING ADVERTISEMENTS Answering advertisements (concern¬ ing such things as sample packages of grape-nuts, post toasties, et cetera), has always appealed to me and I have regarded it as a novelty. Consequently, whenever I have read an advertise¬ ment in a magazine that did not neces¬ sitate the sending of stamps or any money, as I am Scotch, I literally pounced upon it, and had the ad in an envelope and on its way in ten sec¬ onds from the time I had perceived it. Many tim es such ads have ended dis¬ astrously, especially those sent for this year, but just the same it has been fun. , My first reply to an ad was in con¬ nection with a sample box of grape- nuts. I received my order, so to speak, in short time and much to my delight was sent two packages instead of one and a recipe book besides. Thus, encouraged at “beginner’s luck”, I decided to try again. The next had to be for my personal beauty (?) — some liquid that would make my hair curly for the rest of my life. As I had always adored curly hair, I was attracted to this most miraculous ad, and for days I watched the mail, wait¬ ing for that priceless something — but — sad to relate, it never came. For the next two or three weeks I was not inclined to answer advertisements, but, at last , upon seeing that I could get a sample of almost everything Mr. Dennison produced, I sent for the wonderful collection. To my disap¬ pointment Mr. Dennison seemed like myself in temperament, extremely Scotch, for all I received for my good envelope and two-cent stamp was a napkin, a few tags, and a few stickers minus the stickum. I made many futile attempts after that to receive for other two-cent stamps, cold cream, soap, and various other beautifiers, but finally, at wits end, I sent for some post toas¬ ties, (as if I hadn’t already refused to eat that cereal for some weeks). Sure enough, it came and added to the mini¬ ature storehouse of post toasties, al¬ ready in the pantry. Thus ended the ads for that year which, as it seemed, took the joy from living. Inspired with the feeling that I might get some pictures that would be suitable for notebooks, I had the nerve to send for two sample books of the Book of Knowledge, one at a time. I received the two, which proved to be extremely different from each other, and very useful. However, for my two cents I was also sent two live men. After each book arrived, one came to interview my mother to see if she wouldn’t like to buy the set. When a man had come to see her for the second time from that company, she informed me that I was not to send for that book again. Neverthe¬ less, I did send for one of C— because of which mother has received letter after letter from the C— people. Thus, I do not know whether I would advise anyone else to reply to advertisements as frequently as I have — there are too many complications and too many two-cent stamps and envelopes wasted. M. Guild Miss England — Have you done your outside reading yet? Lindsay — No, its been too cold. F. M. — Did you ever hear of a gas that was a liquid? P. M. — Sure, gasoline.
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Page 16 text:
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PAGE EIGHT THE PIONEER At last we were all gathered in the great room again. The table had been removed, but waiters were passing trays on which were slender goblets filled with what was literally liquid fire. When everyone had a glass, the Flame-man proposed my health, and everyone drank. Laughingly, I, too, drank to myself. Instantly I felt giddy, irresponsible, aiid careless of conse¬ quences. ' ’ 0 1 Thus when the Flame-man, turning to me asked, “And what do you think of us here?” I was possessed of an Alice-in-Wonderland-mood, and even as she had answered, I returned gayly, thoughtlessly, “Why you are only lumps of coal!” For one terrible moment there was absolute silence. Then each person became an eager, reaching flame bend¬ ing towards me, greed in the grasping, curling fingers. I screamed in terror— then, I was standing alone, and the fire smouldered angrily. What had I done? What had I done? But even as I stared bewilderedly, the truth came with crushing clarity, overwhelming me with everlasting remorse—for the Flame Castle was gone—forever. B. J. B. ’31. REG ARDING HORSES AND CARRIAGES Not long ago, while jaunting rather aimlessly around the streets of our beautiful old town in company with two other lads and a Ford sedan, all equally infected with the wanderlust, I encountered a sight which led me to believe that prehistoric days were home on a visit. After puzzilng over the sight for a few moments, our masterful brains deciphered the puzzle. Believe it or not, the queer craft ahead was a horse and-carriage ! Why, I wondered, should anyone (especially two lofty Senior girls with two insignificant So¬ phomore boys) wish to reconnoitre in this strange vehicle ? Since then I have thought over the question and have found some light in what at first seemed an impenetrable sea of dark¬ ness. First think of the delicious distinc¬ tion in riding in a dear old rickety carriage. And consider the attention you gain. Perhaps you have tried un¬ successfully for years to have your angelic physiognomy adorn the front page of your local rotogravure section. If so, here is the solution to your prob¬ lem. Not only are you in the limelight, but, if conditions are right, you will also be in the headlights. And horns of various new Fords, trailing in pro¬ cession, acclaim your new-found pres¬ tige. Another gorgeous possibility is Sauntering nonchalantly down the mid- that of holding up traffic behind you. die of the road, impervious to outraged motorists, who in sweet, gentle tones urge you to draw to one side of the highway, is indeed excellent sport. I might also mention that in the case of the horse I am featuring the pick-up was marvellous. Also remember that the horse is alive; he is not a piece of machinery. You may call the hand¬ some thoroughbred by all sorts of pet endearments, especially when the gal¬ lant steed balks. Ah, what beautiful fondnesses are articulated at these moments ! And don’t forget the “back¬ seat.” It is only an outside extension of the floor, and the view ahead is not so much—merely a blank. But what is this to the two occupants of this position? And please uuu. tnat driv¬ ing a horse is a great economy. Lyric¬ ally speaking, you buy no gas; the horse eats grass. How much more money is left with which to procure jelly beans ! No tire trouble nor traf¬ fic cops annoy you; you have a long whip to flourish grandiloquently. And say what you will, the bumps are not so bad. And speaking of bumps you cant crack your cranium on a steel frame as a certain youthful adventurer did, as a certain Ford sedan careened rather widly around a certain horse and carriage of which I am thinking.
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