Vandergrift High School - Spectator Yearbook (Vandergrift, PA)

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THE SPECTATOR THE BELATETD VALENTINE. It was during the noon recess and the country school-house was humming with the noise made by several scores of bright-eyed boys and girls. All were busy giving the finishing touches to valentine packages which were later on to be dropped in the box used as a post-office and then distributed among the children. Leaning on several of the more isolated desks, solitary boys could be seen furtively sealing and addressing large envelopes. These, they dropped into the box at' the first opportunity of doing so unobserved. At last the bell sounded, summoning the pupils to their lessons and silence fell except for occasional whispers and suppressed giggles. To accentuate the stillness, the loudly ticking clock slowly marked the dragging minutes. Many were the longing glances cast at the clock face and many sighs were audible as the children watched the hands slowly creeping round the dial. Finally as the hands pointed to three o’clock the teacher laid aside her textbook and declared the lessons for the dav to be at an end. Johnny Clements had been chosen posit-master and now with witty sayings and actions that sent the children into gales of laughter, he distributed the valentines. “A heart for Harriet,” he would say presenting a young girl with a heart-shaped fancy. “Some one is before me in everything. “Oh! If I could only get hold of his collar. “Here is a Red Riding Hood one for you, Francis. “Here is one for you Ruth, all sealed up tight so no one can peep. Oh! Hurry and open it” “Gee, here is a whale of a big one for you Bob. Lucky Kid!” And so it went until the box was empty. All the children were so happy too. They were laughing and running from one desk to another to see what the others had gotten and to display their own gifts. At a little desk near the front of the room, a tiny girl, Martha Grimm, who could not run around like the other girls because of being crippled in an automobile accident was happily displaying her valentines to the admiring group of girls around her. 18 Every face beamed with happiness except for those two boys who were sitting on one of the corner desks. “Gee, Dale,” said the older of the two, a mischievous lad of twelve. “You don’t suppose Miss Arnold got hold of that, do you?” “Huh! It was sealed tight, wasn’t it? So nobody could see what was in the envelope. Sure, she has pretty sharp eyes but you don’t need to tell me she 'could see what was in that blue envelope.” “I know, but maybe she suspected something from the expressions on our faces when we were fixing it.” “Dunno. But we’ll soon know. It is nearly four o’clock and school will soon he dismissed.” The two boys parted and joined separate groups of children, langhing and chatting with the rest. Soon four o’clock arrived and the children gathering together their valentines and donning their wraps prepared to derart. Miss Arnold, resuming her place by her desk said “Well, children I am sure we are all pleased with our pretty valentines and I am so glad that none of you have hurt the feelings of another by any tricks. I am certainly pleased with all of my boys and girls and I want to thank you for my pretty . valentines. They were all so pretty. “I will dismiss you now except for Dale and Paul whom I would like to see after school.” The two boys cast understanding glances at each other. “I see where I get mine,” said Dale with a short laugh but Paul, never answering slunk lower in his seat. In a few minutes all the pupils but Dale and Paul had left the building and Miss Arnold came back from watching them march out. “Now, boys,” she said, “don’t think that you will be obliged to stay and help me but I would like you to help me put the room in order.” The relief the two boys felt at hearing these words can only be imagined. Soon they were working with a will to set the room to rights and laughing over the various happenings of the afternoon.

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17 THE SPECTATOR “Yep, but it ain’t quite as bad as to'ther night, when I had ter go out fer pop to fetch in some wood and it were pretty nine-thirty” replied Henry. “Ma and Pa went over to Hiram •lone's to see their new baby, but they ain’t back yet-and our wood has to be fete bed in--would you mind fetchin it in fer me Henry ?”--asked Maria. Of course Henry consented. After he had help brighted up the fire and they went to sit down on the sofa, Henry noticed the yellow book peeping out from in under the cushion- “My goodness Maria, you’re gettin’ right up in society now, reading yeller covered books” Maria never answered but turned what seemed to her a million dicerent colors. When Henry saw her he too dropped his head and kept furtively try -ing to look through the cushion and see the subject of the book. At last he picked up enough courage to lift up the book—When he saw ‘‘How to Make a Man Propose,” he thought he was seeing things but after he had stared awhile he assumed himself that his eyesight was perfectly all right. “Why — er—• er — is this yours Maria?” “U—U—why—yes” she stammered. Do do—do— you really —m—m mean it—or are you just f—f—fooling me?” Maria could not answer him but just dropped her head—he knew she meant it—after a pause she said— “Well Henry this is what yer call Leap Year and I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t ask me that I’d ask you— but I guess I won’t now.” Henry took her hand in his and said— “Maria—I really meant ter ask yer but it just slipped my memr’y—but will yer fergive me and marry me—n —n—next week?” Her head fell on Henry’s shoulder and—well it would be telling on Maria and Henry if I’d write any more. HARRIETT WITHI.VGTON, ’20. “LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG.” • This happened “Long Long Ago.” He met her in “Killarney” as she was riding down the lane in the “Low-backed car.” When the horse stumbled, she cried, “O Dear What Can the ■lattir Be?” “Pa. don Madam, I’m ‘Robin Adair,’ let me help you.” “Oh! she smiled coyly, ‘We’d Better Bide a Wee.” It was a wonderful night; “The Evening Star” was high in the heavens by the time they were “Homeward Bound.” “Tell me, your name, sweet-hear-,” said Robin. “It’s Kathleen Mavoureen,” an-sweied she. That was the beginning of “Love’s Young Dreams.” One day he said sadly. “I must go back to ‘My Ain Country. My regiment is called to the front. ‘Goodby, Sweetheart, Good-by.’ ” She went down to her home on the “Beautiful Isle of the Sea” and waited with “The Old Folks at Home” for the return of her lover. Day after day she sat “With Head Bowed Down and thought of her bon-nie laddie who was now “A Thousand Leagues Away.” One day she was sitting by the “Sad 3ea Waves,” and along came “Peter Grey ” with a letter. “The Campbells are Coming,” cried Peter waving the letter. Kathleen read a part of the letter aloud: “When This Cruel War Is Over,’ I’ll be 'Home Again.' then we’ll be married in ‘The Sweet By and By' and move to ‘America.’ ” Old “Peter Grey shouted, “Hurrah, it’s The Dearest Spot on Earth.’ Three cheers for ‘The Red, White, and Blue. ” “Robin Adair” came back and they nere married in “The Little Brown Church in the Wildwood.” Ever after they lived happily in the “Little Grey Home in the West.” estella mcdermott—’2i.

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THE SPECTATOR % “Say that surely is a mystery how that valentine disappeared, ain’t it? asked Paul of Dale when they were out of Miss Arnold's hearing. “You know. I’m kind of glad Martha didn't gel it but I certainly would like to know where it went.” Miss Arnold, busy at the other end oi the room had come upon the post-box and was holding it aloft. “Here boys, you might take this out to the coal shed and chop it into kindling.' she called. “It will only be a bother as it is. At the ( first stroke of the hatchet the lid ofrthe box was broken and a bit of blue paper protruded. Quickly pulling it out Dale held it up for Paul to see. “Gee! That’s the lost valentine,” said he. “It must have been caught in the box when Johnny shook it out.” “Well, I, for one, am glad Martha didn’t get it. Did you see how pleased she was with the other valentines she got?” “Yes, it would have been a mean trick to spoil her pleasure by making fun of her being a cripple. Gee, I feel cheap.” “Me, too,” said Paul as he gathered the armful of kindling wood to carry into the school. GRACE JOHXSTO.X, ’21. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, OUR HOUSEHOLD POET. Longfellow, the poet of the people is the most widely known and loved of all the American authors. He is called “the household poet” and while still living, was honored by having his birthday celebrated. Longfellow’s reputation rested upon the fact that whoever is known and read by children has a secure place in the hearts of fathers and mothers. He first interested us in his legend of the radians. “Hiawatha,” as American people like Indian stories. His next good work Evangeline” Won our hearts on account of its portrayal of womanhood. Longfellow was not an original poet, but one who glorified the common life which men live, by showing its beauty and truth. His works are of great and beautiful simplicity enabling even children to understand them. The Village Blacksmith,” “The Old Clock on the Stairs” and The Children’s Hour” are favorites. A second good quality of Longfellow is his sympathy, which makes him wise in the ways of the human heart. He understands it’s joys, it’s sorrows, it’s sentiments, and it’s satisfaction in a tale or poem that ends in harmony with the nature of man. He keeps close to common experience, being content with the place he holds in the hearts of his fellow-men. Another great quality is suggested by the statement that he is “the poet of the commonplace.” From the material of common life he produced poetry. This alone would give him a place in our hearts, for.,, who would not like to hear poetry about his own home? Summing this all up, we honor him, therefore, as “our household poet,” and of all the gifts which fortune brought him cherish these two: that the children celebrate his birthday and that his bust stands in the Poet’s Corner of Wesminster Abbey. The one shows his hold on the human hearts and the other shows his secure fame among all English speaking people. --------oo-------- Miss Richey—“Ralph, what is the dative form of donum?” Ralph Wiggins—“D’on’ know.” Miss Richey— Correct.” A Hint. He—“What would you do if I threw a kiss to you?” She—“I would think you were lazy.” Merle Allshouse, says he don’t see or know how the Sam Hill “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” was written by Harriett Beecher’s toe. —o-— Ted—“Did your watch stop when you dropped it?” Merle— Sure, you didn’t think it would go on through, did you?”