Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL)

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March, Nineteen Twenty-Nine 9 parted, Milo murmured: “Oh, pardon me, English, that I have listened to his reasons. But over your dead body, I now do prophesy that a curse shall light upon the limbs of men; ignorance shall fall upon the people; ‘aint’ and ‘haint’ shall be in such common use that teachers will whip their pupils for forgetting to use them. It may be that we shall even go back to the ancient sign language; and when that happens how shall the boy friend talk to his lady love?” Editor’s Note:—This is a take-off on Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar.” The Shakespearean characters corresponding to the ones in this story are as follows: Metellus Cimber, Otis Chaudoin. Brutus, Keith Brown. Publius Cimber, the banished brother, Edwin Chaudoin. Casca, Woodrow Dillon. Mark Antony, Milo Churchill. —E. Tomlinson. I was asked to write some poetry, But I’m no poet, as you can plainly see, But this much I know, without any doubt And don’t ask me how I found out. I know Miss Silliman will eventually be A musician, in lands far over the sea. Mr. McCulloch, I think, Will be driven to drink, If some fine lady doesn’t take him in hand And tell him what’s what and rule him like an iron band. Miss Newburn, I know, will start running a show If some other place she doesn’t get a chance to go. Miss Oehmke, of course you all guess Will be acting in Hollywood in a month or less. Miss Russell, some day, will be A person of—we’ll know—just wait and see; Miss Cooley will marry some one quite great, If she doesn’t, my goodness, what a very sad fate. Mr. Hartley will some day be Superintendent of Schools, My goodness! I’d hate to see some of his rules; Miss Dewey always looks so forbidding and sinister, I’m quite sure she shall be an unusual spinster. Miss Tyler, at last, her dreams have come true, Inherited her million, and away to England she flew; Mr. Askew will dream of wonderful things, And become such an angel he’ll grow gold wings. —Clae Swango.

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8 March, Nineteen Twenty-Nine ‘ain’t.’ I won’t have such people in my kingdom.” “Oh, English, I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, English.” The great king English was thoroughly provoked by now. Even Keith, the star of the English students, begged the repeal of Otis’ brother, Ed, who had been banished for using poor grammar in the class room. “Are you in this too, Keith ? I’m surprised at you!” “Pardon, English; English pardon!” said Slang, who had taken his stand before the throne. “I will bow to the ground begging Ed’s repeal.” “I could be easily moved if I were as weak as you,” was the king’s reply. “But, fortunately, I am not. I am as firm as the court house building, the only king among kings who can say this of himself. As I have said before, Ed is banished, and shall never again enter the class room until he produces a white card and promises never to say ‘ain’t’ again.” A few of the students had separated from the rest. They stood in one corner of the room and seemed to be planning among themselves. Slang now joined them and began to speak. “You go first Woody, and we’ll show the cock-eyed world whether such an old sap as English can rule us! When you give the signal, the rest will follow.” They went back and knelt before the throne, renewing their pleas in addition to the ones already being offered. “Oh, English—” “Disperse! Would you change a man as determined as Miss Silli-man ?” was English’s reply to this plea. “Great English—” “Does not the marvelous Keith kneel to no avail? Do you not know that it is useless for you to attempt where he fails ?” English rebuked them again for their remarks. “Then speak, hands, for me!” It was Woodrow who spoke, and as he uttered the words, he shot English in the shoulder. Immediately the others followed him, the last one being Keith, the star of the English class. “And you, too, Keith? Then fall, English!” With these words the great king fell to the floor, killed by the bullet of his dearest friend’s gun. Milo entered, demanding reasons for the shooting. “It is not, oh, Milo, that I loved English less, but that I loved our school more. As English loved me, I weep for him; as I made wonderful grades in that subject, I loved him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoiced for him ; but as he was ambitious and wished to rule us all, I shot him! Are you so base that you wish to be a slave? Are you so uncivilized that you do not wish to belong to our school? If you are, I have offended you. But remember that what I have done to English you may do to me when you desire my death!” “Very good reasons, Keith, and now leave me to mourn my dead.” Keith left, leaving Milo standing over the body of English. As he de-

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10 March, Nineteen Twenty-Nine WHEN MONEY DOESN’T COUNT. In and on clanked the noisy freight train as it went rambling on into the night. It was a beautiful night, with stars shining in all their glory in the heavens. The moon was shining very brightly so that it seemed as if it were almost day. John Reynolds found himself gazing into the heavens watching stars twinkle in the sky and once in a while seeing one leap from its position and slide across the sky. He lay on his back on a flat car of a long freight train which was supposed to arrive in California three days later. Abruptly his thoughts were broken when the engine whistled shrilly, three times a long distance down the track. He heard another quick shrill note that seemed to be farther down the track. Then with a swiftness that seemed to rush on him at once, the fast train flashed by him with a bright array of lights. The observation car flashed by last. The back wras lit up brightly and John saw a familiar figure sitting in the observation car. A boy who, as a youth, John had gone to school with, had chummed with, and then later they had both set out into the world to make a name for themselves. Time had treated this chum more kindly than it had John, and now the chum, James Scott, was speeding across the continent in a fine luxurious coach, knowing of no hardships or failures. On the other hand John was considered a failure and he had heard of the wonderful chance in California to secure jobs that paid well. An outcast in the city of New York, he had watched for a chance and boarded a freight unnoticed. Now here he was just two days from his destination. “Gee, but he is sure lucky,” he muttered to himself. Two days later the freight stopped in a little town in California called Claremont, a city of about three thousand. John got off the freight and proceeded toward the uptown district. This town was a tidy and well kept place and was quite different from any that John had ever seen. “Thirty-eight cents for a meal,” he said to himself. He walked into a restaurant and ordered a cup of coffee and a couple of rolls. After he was through he walked out of the city limits and into the country beyond. All around were orange groves. He decided he would try for a job of picking oranges. Upon approaching a man who seemed to be manager he asked if he could secure a job. The manager looked him up and down with a keen but searching eye. “Guess you’ll be alright,” he said. “Lend a hand here, will you? This is a very busy day.” All that day John picked oranges. And he received a check for twenty-five dollars at the end of the week. The weeks sped by and the end of the orange season drew near. One day John was picking oranges close to the top of a choice orange tree. He saw a huge car drive up and a finely dressed man emerged from the vehicle. He hurried from the automobile and went up to where the manager was busy sorting oranges. After they had talked for a few moments, the man who had just arrived started over toward the tree where John was busy.