St Anthony High School - Tattler Yearbook (St Anthony, ID)

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THE TATTLER iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiuiiiimiiliiiimiiiiimiiiiiii around that not far from where they stood, at least it did not look far, was a large Woodyfield and they immediately set out to walk to it. Since he was Armstrong, the duty of carrying the basket was given to John. By the time they reached the place selected they were so tired and hungry that they lost no time in Fletcherizing their lunch. They sat quietly eating when suddenly Bessie cried: “Look! what kind of flower is that?” Hairy was very startled but he managed to reply, “I cannot Seawell, but I think it Is-a-bell.” After they had rested a few minutes they began the journey back to the cai. They had not gone far, however, when Harry discovered he had left his copy of Milton which he had taken with him, so while Harry returned for Milton the others sat by the wayside and rested. By the time they had reached the Hudson they found it would be neces- sary to use Allen’s Foot Ease when they arrived home. But how were they going to home? This was the question. Providence, it seemed, was working for them, for soon the Earl of Munk and his brother, Or-son, came down the road in a Baine wagon and said, “Hop in and come t oArville, which is only a few miles up the road. There you can get someone to take you Home.” And so accordingly their trouble was settled, and everyone rejoiced. A. M. i ' ate Twenty-four

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THE TATTLER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII What’s In A Name” OU see it started tins way: Harry met John on the street early in May and suggested going on a picnic. “For,” he said, “if you are leaving for Venice and I for Florence so soon, we must have our outing or we will lose out entirely.” John agreed, and said he knew of a fine picnic ground not far from the town of Yaudrvville, where there was a beautiful Ferny Bauer, which was always full of Phebes, Jays and other wild birds in the spring. This Bauer was located in a thick Grov-er Wood and to get to it one had to pass under an Arc which was always covered with roses. Not far away was situated a beautiful Lake where they might be able to catch a few Trout or some Min- nies. Harry thought this would be a splendid place, and they immediately consulted Hazel and Bessie about the matter. The girls were very much enthused, but Amy-able little Hazel wanted to know how they were going to go. “Oh,” said Harry, “that is easily settled. I’ll take you in my Hudson Car.” “But Wil-ma let me ride in that car?” asked Bessie. “Why of course she will.” replied John ; “your mother likes you to have a good time.” Soon it was decided when they should go and the boys went to get their car ready while the girls prepared the lunch of sandwiches, a bottle of Hynds pickles, a salad, cake, Cherries and several good things to eat. Before long they were traveling toward the Forest, but they had not gone far when they met Lewis the Miller and Custer the Potter, who told them they were breaking the Laws by going so fast, and that they would have to pay a fine. The boys were Young, Wealthy, Fre-men, so they did not mind this in the least. When the fine was paid they continued on their journey and had just reached a turn in the road, from where they could see the Spires of an ancient castle, when they ran into a mud puddle and the Costlev Hudson Car stuck fast. There was but one thing to do and that was for the boys to push the car through the mud. So Harry began pushing while John pulled on a rope he had tied to the front of the car. “Pull Harder. John, but be careful you don’t Buster,” cried Harry. John pulled Harder, but alas, the rope broke and poor John tumbled into the mud and saw Stars. When he got up he sneezed, “K’rshaw, K’rshaw,” and said afterwards he thought he was a Dedman. Harry suggested that they should not try pushing and pulling any more as it seemed to have a bad effect on John. Suddenly Hazel noticed a plank by the roadside and suggested that it be used as a bridge for the girls to walk on, from the car to the dry ground. Soon all were standing on dry ground. They were not out of their difficulty yet, but they were hungry and began looking for a suitable place to eat their lunch. They discovered by scouting Page Twenty-three

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THE TATTLER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Cigarettes W hen the cold is making ice cream of the marrow in your bones, W hen you ' re shaking like a jelly and your feet are dead as stones. When your clothing and boots and blankets, and your rifle and your kit. Are soaked from Hell to Breakfast, and the dugout where you sit Is leaking like a basket, and upon the muddy floor The water lies in filthy pools, six inches deep or more; Tho ' the life seems cold and mis ' ruble, and all the world is wet, Tou ' ll always get thro ' somehow if you ' ve got a cigarette. When you ' re lying in a listening post ' way out beyond the wire. While a blasted Hun, behind a gun, is doing rapid fire; When the bullets whine above your head, and sputter on the ground. When your eyes are strained for every move, your ears for every sound — - You ' d bet your life a Hun patrol is prowling somewhere near; A shiver runs along your spine that ' s very much like fear; You ' ll stick it to the finish — but. I ' ll make a little bet. You ' d feel a whole lot better if you had a cigarette. When Fritz is starting something and his guns are on the bust, W hen the parapet goes up in chunks, and settles down in dust, W hen the roly-poly rum- jar comes a-uobbling thro ' the air. Till it lands upon a dugout — and the dugout isn ' t there; If hen the air is full of dust, and smoke, and scraps of steel, and noise. And you think you ' re booked for golden crowns and other heavenly joys. If hen your nerves are all a-tremble, and your brain is all a-fret — It isn ' t half so hopeless if you ' ve got a cigarette. When you ' re waiting for the whistle, and your foot is on the step. You bluff yourself, it ' s lots of fun, and all the time you ' re hep To the fact that you may stop one ' fore you ' ve gone a dozen feet. And you wonder uhat it feels like, and your thoughts are far from sweet; Then you think about a little grave, with R. I. P. on top. And you know you ' ve got to go across — alt ho ' you ' d like to stop. When you ' re backbone ' s limp as water, and you ' re bathed in icy sweat. Why, you ' ll feel a lot more cheerful if you puff your cigarette. Page Twenty-five