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

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12 Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two was being held in the tiniest hand, by the sweetest little girl! She wasn’t dressed very nicely and something was wrong with one of her legs, but I fell in love with her, right away. She and I started out right then to compose a theme, and we have been through thick and thin together ever since. Now, although Mary is quite grown up, she says she wouldn’t part with me for the world. Now, don't misunderstand me, for I’m as contented with my lot as I can be, but, sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn’t fallen out of that young man’s pocket. Betty Caverly. HIGH SCHOOL CLUBS. Clubs in High School are sometimes very useful. Of course every high school has its own idea of what a club should be and so there are social clubs and business clubs and clubs which are dull and those which are active. I believe that one fault of a great many clubs is to have no restriction as to its members. People can join any time and once they are in, there is no interest to keep them there. Nothing but high grades in a certain subject is one way of restricting members and another way is to put a requirement of a year in a certain subject on the member. But once the members are decided upon, your interest must be kept up in the club. Pot luck dinner can be given to get the members together; money should be raised in various ways and programs given. I believe that a club in a foreign language is a good thing. If a restriction of a year in that language is put on the members, they ought to know a little about how to speak it in the club. They can give plays and get speakers to talk to them about the country whose language they are studying. One club which I admired a great deal was a dramatic club. This was hard to enter, for the members had to be good scholars and be chosen by the dramatic teacher. Dramatic instruction was given and the members all tried to earn enough points to get a pin. It was surprising at the talent discovered among the students in acting. But to speak from another point of view. It is sometimes asked, “What do the clubs in a high school amount to?” It is true, a lot of them amount to nothing. Once in a while their president calls a meeting, and nothing happens except that a lot of time is taken up. And just the opposite are the clubs that have so much to do that the members cannot get their real school work done. In some schools, although they cannot be called clubs, are the “special class periods,” which do a great deal of good. These are periods in which the student can pick out the study which he thinks he most needs, and get extra help in it. In closing, I wish to say that I think it a great mistake to condemn all high school clubs because a few have not accomplished anything. I believe that any effort in clubs should be encouraged. —B. Caverly.

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Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two 11 ----------------------------------------------------------------—+ DifflOTraMninigis ©1! si FoauinittsiDm Fern ----- —.—.— --- —...-------------------------------------------- On first glance at me, a casual observer might think that I was just one more poor, old, common fountain pen. Well, I may be old, but I’m certainly not common. Why, let me tell you this, one of my ancestors came over on the Mayflower! Now don’t smile and tell me they didn’t have fountain pens in those days, because I know that. But, just the same, he was my ancestor, and that is probably more than you can say about yours. But, oh my, I feel a talking spell coming on, so if you will sit quietly, I’ll tell you about myself. Well, I can’t tell you anything about how I was made, for at that time I was too young to sit up and take notice. The first thing I knew, I found myself in a lovely box, lying on a soft, cotton bed. It was dark in the box, so I cautiously raised myself on one elbow and peered out. I seemed to be in a huge, barn-like place, all encased with glass, and all around me were boxes similar to mine. Jumping out, I ran over to the first one and looked in. Well, bless my soul! If there wasn’t another of my species, only this one looked as old as Methusaleh, and had whiskers clear down to his waist. “Hey!” I yelled, “Get up, Noah, and tell me about this place and what I’m doing in it.” “You young scoundrel!” said Noah. “If you ever wake me up like that again, I’ll pull your ears. Such ignorance! But you certainly asked the right fellow. I’ve lived here nigh on to twenty years, and I’ve seen pens come and go. You’re in a jewelry store, lad, and if you don’t watch out someone will soon come in and buy you!” With this he turned over and went to sleep again. It began to get lighter, and soon the clerk came in and began to arrange our boxes more artistically. Not long after some customers began to come in and look us over. One young man came rushing in, pulled a large bill out of his pocket, and said he was in a hurry and wanted to buy a gift for a friend. Well, in a few minutes, I was taken out, wrapped up, and off I went on my first adventure. Finally, I grew tired of being jiggled around in this man’s coat pocket and I tried to poke my head out of the box. My movement was just enough to make the box tip, and I landed in the gutter with a terrific thump. For a minute I just lay there, I felt so sick, and then I tried my best to get out of that box. It couldn’t be done, for the string was tied too securely. After waiting and waiting, I heard a voice say “My stars, what have we here?” and I was raised off the ground. My wrapping was torn off, the lid raised, and a wrinkled old face peered in at me. “For the land of mercy,” exclaimed the old woman. “God must have sent this for my poor Mary’s birthday!” I was so weary, I just dropped to sleep and when I next woke up, I

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Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two 13 + Med ©D(0)ii0(dl9§ (Srattittaode --------------------------------------------------------------------— It was springtime in South Carolina and the pioneers in the colony of Savannah were busily working. Men were plowing, trees were being felled, land cleared for new homes, and log cabins were being erected. One could see smoke curling into the sunny blue sky from the chimneys of the fire places, and the blue ocean where a ship lay at anchor could be seen. These colonists had come from the Isle of Man in the ship “Sea Gull.” They were strict Puritans and every Sunday went to their little log church in the wilderness where they heard David Jericho preach the Gospel. David and his wife, Rachel, lived in a small cabin at the far end of the colony. They lived like the rest of the colonists. Rachel spun coarse cloth with her spinning wheel which she had brought from England and Dave wore loose fitting buckskin clothes and a black beaver hat. On Sundays they would dress in their best attire and go to the log church where Dave officiated as minister. “Rachel, I am going hunting this morning,” said Dave as he took the musket down from over the fire place where it was hanging. “Be sure and be back in time for dinner,” said Rachel as she was sitting by the fireplace stirring a pot of maize. “I hope you have good luck at killing deer, for our meat supply is getting very low!” David plunged into the forest. He was not successful in killing deer, but still he plodded on. Soon he came to a large rock and climbed upon it to see if any game was near. The rock was in an elevated position and as Dave looked below him he saw an Indian riding a pony. The pony shied as it came to a curve in the trail and nearly threw its rider. Dave saw the tawny form of a panther with its tail swishing and lashing the air getting ready to leap on the Indian. He raised his musket to his shoulder and shot. The panther fell over dead, with a screaming cry like a child. The Indian looked up at his white protector on the rock and said “Ugh,” with a shrug of his shoulders, and disappeared into the forest. “A lot of thanks these red men give you for saving their lives,” muttered Dave to himself as he walked home. He didn’t realize that in the future the whole colony would be saved by this incident. It had been two moons since the incident in the forest occurred. Red Cloud and his Indian braves were preparing to attack the Savannah Colony. A huge fire was built and brown faced squaws in bright colored blankets carried armfuls of wood. Arrow7 heads were poisoned and Indian braves were painting themselves in hideous colors. Dry pieces of pitch were fastened on arrows. In the midst of this barbarious commotion stood Red Cloud and two bright streamers of colored eagle feathers