Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

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THE BLUE ANI) WHITE. 17 ing. “The desk has been broken open and forty thousand dollars in cash are missing.” “What of it?” snapped the Professor, his nose stuck in a pile of papers, which lie was busily correcting. “What of it?” he repeated. “I can’t stop now, these papers must be corrected.” “Mighty busy all of a sudden,” thought the banker, “I guess I know what is the matter with him.” “Say,” aloud, “Won’t you let me have some money to do business with today ?” “I suppose I can do that, but you had better hunt up the other as quick as you can. Here’s ten thousand.” He reached his hand in where he supposed the money to be. He began to feel around. His face turned pale as he made one last search. “There’s no money here,” he finally gasped, “I’ve been robbed.” “Well no matter,” laughed the banker, more at the scared features of the Professor than at anythiug else, “The next time you want to play any tricks on other people, you’d better look and see if they are around.” “Well, so long, wish you a Merry Christmas,” and he was gone. MEULWER, ’07. result. Sometimes those at her desk would ring the bell or throw waste paper. Noons were spent pleasantly; the boys played tag or Caraway or wrestled, and the little girls played dolls. Margaret enjoyed sliding down hill or playing Fox and Geese in winter with the children; but she never took much part in building the snow man. She was bound for home as soon as her term of school would permit. Mother met her at the door with a happy smile and father looked off his paper to say, “Good evening, our brave hearted Margaret.” Margaret told her mother later on that the school went well and she enjoyed it, “But it’s only a beginning, mother,” she said, “I shall go back next term, and do better.” Ernestine Bristol, ’09. A “Mid-Summer Night’s Dream.” A Short Sketch of Margaret’s First School. Margaret Fulton rushed in to her mother with the reply to an application for a school, which said she might have the position. Margaret was young, with dark hair and eyes, and a determined purpose which was made stronger every time she took a step on the ladder of life, just as Antaeus received new strength every time his foot touched the ground. I11 two weeks she was mistress of her first school room, among twenty-five boys and girls. There were seats for ouly sixteen pupils and she looked anxiously about, puzzling her brain as to where to seat them. The largest ones were given the desks, while others were put at her desk, on benches and in corners. After the books were given out and things were put in some order, she heard a few lessons which were very poor, so she sent the children back to study. Often times a mouse would creep out of the woodshed and eat crumbs left from the children’s lunch. This always caused a bit of scolding on Margaret’s part because the children laughed and had bad lessons as a Last summer my friend and I went on our annual hunting trip through the Adirondack mountains and it was while there that I had the thrilling experience which I am alxnit to relate. It was toward the close of a day unusually hot and fatiguing; our labor had been of a most tiresome kind for we had been obliged to wind our way over a tall mountain completely covered with trees and so tangled with brushwood that, but for our personal strength we would never have gotten through. We quickly made our evening meal, which, by the way, I always enjoy with peculiar satisfaction, pitched our tent and were soon asleep. We arose bright and early the next morning, cooked our breakfast with speed, for we wished to get an early start, cleaned our guns and started out for the day. We separated, my friend- going south and I north, for I saw that the woods were thicker there and that I would stand a better chance of getting game. I had gone but a little way however, when I discovered that I had made a mistake in choosing this direction for the woods were so thick with thorns and underbrush that every step of my way was marked with blood. I tried to retrace my steps but to my amazment I could not tell from which direction I had come. I knew then that I was lost. I wandered about all the forenoon without success and then as I was hungry, I sat down to eat my mid-day

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1G THE BLUE AND WHITE. An hour later the Hon. Mitchell, having put the last touches on the well-filled stocking, stood by the child’s bed, feeling richer than he had in all his life before. He stooped and kissed the pure brow. “God bless you, little fellow,” he murmured brokenly, “You have brought the Christmas joy home to a lonely man’s heart.” Jennie Harris, ’07. How the Banker Got Even. “Thirteen hundred short, yes thirteen hundred short. Where was the deficiency ?” They had asked themselves, the professor in bookkeeping and his banker, this question a hundred times. They had gone over their books together and separately a dozen times. But the books wouldn’t balance by thirteen hundred dollars. “I tell you what,” finally exclaimed Yonker, the banker, as he finished adding up a long row of figures,” I can’t find the mistake so it’s all up to you. I’ve added those figures up and down and they come out the same way every time.” “Keep still,” exclaimed the professor wratlifully, then, glaring a few seconds at his banker, he resumed his adding. Not a sound could be heard; the banker sat there in his big chair, staring vacantly at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he would have to stay. He imagined he could hear two boys boxing at the gym. and hear a shout as a good blow was landed. He saw one of his friends just receiving a knock out blow then. “There!” shrieked the Professor excitedly, “I’ve got the blame thing. We forgot to credit Gray with that thirteen hundred he borrowed last Thursday. You can go now.” “Wait a moment, let me see that book,' said the banker, now excited, “No, Grey has been credited. Dou’t you see his account in that third column . “Why didn’t you tell me that before?' thundered the Professor. lie frowned, and, with a deep scowl on his brow, set to thinking. The poor trembling banker sat there thinking too, but his thoughts were not on his books. They were far from there. ‘The clock struck four, then half past. The banker thought he would speak, but fearing his own voice he kept his silence. Tile-clock struck five, then the Professor stirred. The banker thought he was going to get up, but no, he was just moving a sleeping member. Then silence reigned again except occasionally a long sigh from the banker and the deep breathing of the thinking Professor. The hands of the clock pointed to half past five. The banker was getting hungry. “Say,” he said in a weak voice, but no Professor stirred or heard. “Say !” a little louder, “Well I'll be hanged if he ain’t asleep. Say, are you going to sleep there all day?” thundered the banker, at least it sounded like thunder to him in that still room. The Professor jumped from his chair as if shot, and, grabbing his book, he fairly shouted, “I've got it.” “Well it’s about time some result was reached. I’m going home and get some supper. I’ll be up early in the morning, and you can tell me then if you find you are right.” The banker left the building and crossed the street to the gym. He could hear muffled sounds and on opening the door he perceived the cause. Arthur Solon, a heavy weight, and Oel Pape were having a round. He watched them a few moments and then started home. He crossed the street, just then remembering that he had left a couple of books on his desk which he must have any way. He turned his steps toward the school, and finding the front door unlocked, he went softly up the stairs. Not wanting to disturb the Professor, if he was working, he crept softly through the open door. The Professor was no longer at his own desk, but over at the banker’s, working at the cash drawer. “I’ll be hanged,” he thought, “I will just see what you are up to now, Mr. Professor.” He slipped into the class room and watched the Professor through the crack in the door. He heard the lock snap as it gave way, and then he saw the Professor fumbling over the papers. The banker gasped. What if the Professor should come across those novels hidden under his papers ! But the Professor’s thoughts were on some-, thing else besides novels, for he quickly closed the drawer, and, as he turned toward him, the banker saw the Professor had his hands full of bills. He went to his private desk where, opening the lower drawer, he carefully tucked the bills away. Then, locking the drawer, he hid the key under an Ancient History, and went out of the room. The banker listened a moment to see if the Professor had really gone; then, creeping to the desk, he quickly unlocked the drawer and, taking out the bills, rapidly trausfered them to his own desk. Muttering to himself that two could play at the same game, he left the room. “The bank’s been robbed ! Every cent’s gone !” That’s what the banker told the Professor the next morn-

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18 THE BLUE AND WHITE. lunch. 1 had not been seated long when I heard a very faint grumbling in the distance. I thought at first that it was thunder but soon realized my mistake as it kept coming nearer and nearer. Suddenly the truth flashed upon me that it was the grumbling of a lion who had happened upon my track and was following me by trail of blood. I arose quickly and looked about for a place to stand, for I knew that it was useless to run. Soon I discoverd a large rock and prudently determined to place my back against it so that I could not be attacked from the rear. mountain life doesn’t seem to agree with you very well. ' I offered to show him the carcasses but for the life of me 1 could not locate the place. Now when I tell my friends the story they laugh and gaze at me with such a look of pity on their faces that it makes me feel that I will always regret to the end of my days that I did not skin the lions in order to have something to show as proof. I had not long to wait for soon I heard a great crackling in the bushes some two or three hundred feet in front of me, and to my horror, I discovered not only one lion but three. They had stopped at several places to amuse themselves by tasting my blood, where it had fallen ou the ground in the greatest plenty, merely, as I presume, to give their appetites a whet for the more substantial food which they thought was to come. I took careful aim and the largest of the three fell dead in his tracks; I had been so excited at the prospect of finding a lion, that when I started for the rock I left my catridge box on the ground, therefore the gun was now useless in my hands. They began circling around me, lashing their sides with their tails and opening their ponderous jaws which appeared large enough to allow my passage with as much ease as I could swallow a pill. Retreating to the very edge of the level ground till they were within twenty or thirty feet of me, they then launchd up in the air and came towards me like the arc of a circle, the highest point being above my head so that they could descend upon me open-mouthed. But I anticipated this, thrusting up both hands into their mouths as they descended upon me with all their force and consequently my hands were driven down their throats. They tried to retreat but I thrust my lingers right through the oesophagus of each animal and prevented it. 1 was liaulcU about ou the ground till it seemed as if every bone in my body would be broken but I was soon rewarded by feeling their struggles grow weaker and weaker till at last they expired with a groan. 1 removed my hands from their jaws and began to collect my belongings which had .been scattered about somewhat freely during the encounter; then going to the top of a hill I tried to locate our camp. The theory I took was a correct one and I soon arrived tired but safe.. When I told my friend about my experience he looked at me queerly a moment and then said “I guess that we had better pack up and go home, this A Christmas Surprise. “Please mother, may I not have it?” Mary asked .eagerly. “Well dear,” answered her mother, “I suppose you can, but finish your breakfast and get ready for school. “Thank you,” said Mary, ‘ but 1 must ask one thing more. It is only a little more than a week before Christmas now, and, if 1 am to have a Christmas party, I ought to be making preparations. May I stay tonight with Louise Baker ? We could talk things over and write the invitations.” “Yes, I suppose so,” answered Mrs. Atwood. “Why mother, what are you thinking about anyway ?” her daughter exclaimed impatiently, “You don t seem at all interested. “To tell the truth,” her mother answered, “I was thinking about old Mrs. Stevens and her husband, and wondering what they would do for Christmas.” “Well,” said Mary, rather crestfallen,. “what difference does it make to us? They are too old to care about Christmas anyway, and don't expect anyone to think of them.” “When you get to be seventy-six years old, will you wish to be shut out from society, aud feel as if no one cared for 3 011?” asked Mrs. Atwood gently? Mary did not reply, but finished her breakfast, and, taking her dinner basket on her arm, started for the country school-house a mile away. In thinking about the coming party, she soon forgot about the old couple ou the hillside. Mary Atwood was rather an impulsive girl, and one of the brightest scholars at the school, which she attended. She was not naturally selfish, but, like many other young people, she often allowed her own pleasures to control everything she did. She passed the house where Mr. aud Mrs. Stevens lived on her way to school. It certainly did look lonesome, she thought, but then, the old people had