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

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VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL 24 “Have you a letter for me?” bashfully inquired a pretty girl at a village post office. “Business or love letter?” asked the clerk, who was a bit of a wag. “Business.” replied the maiden in crimson confusion. As no letter of that nature could be found she departed, but after a while returned, blushing to the hair-roots, and falteringly said. “Please, sir, would you mind looking among the love letters?” —Selected. MY TRUNK I checked my trunk and took a bunk And slept where none would mind me; I left my bunk to find that trunk, The trunk I left behind me. When morning dawned I left my berth To find a tie to bind me; ’Twas in that trunk somewhere on earth That trunk 1 left behind me. I cursed and nearly took a flunk; The porter came to find me; He said we'd lost that cursed trunk, The trunk I left behind me. Marshall Bame, ’31 “The other night I went to the theatre With a lowbrow friend. And the orchestra played Little Brown Jug. And he thought It was the National Anthem. And he stood up. And I did, too. Darn him!” —Selected. Counsel for the prosecution had been rather sarcastic about the age of the youthful doctor who was one of the important witnesses for the defense but now he reached a point where his examination had to be serious. “You are familiar.” queried the lawyer, “with the symptoms of concussion of the brain?” “I am,” replied the young physician grimly. “Then, if Mr. Smith”—waving his hand toward the defendant—“and I banged our heads together, should we get concussion of the brain?” “Well,” said the doctor deliberately, “Mr. Smith might.” —Selected. ON TIME lie glanced quickly at his watch— with fast widening eyes. It was exactly fifty-five minutes after seven o'clock or five minutes of eight. Eastern Standard Time. He had bad no idea it was so late. It seemed as though he had just eaten his supper. Was he too latet How could he have allowed himself to be so careless, he thought, as-he rushed out of the door, pulling his coat on as he went. His thoughts kept time with his feet as he ran along. If he were too late it was only himself who was to blame, thought he. At last a large building loomed in the distance. lie raced up the steps and suddenly became quiet. He listened. Then he softly opened the door and stuck a small portion of his head inside. He could see no one from there, so he tiptoed noiselessly in and looked into the other room. Nothing there to break the silence so oppressive. He sat down on the edge of a chair to wait, fidgeting nervously. Five, ten, then fifteen minutes pass, and then, at ten minutes past eight, the door opened softly, allowing someone to enter. Across the floor came steps. Ah ! SHE had come at last! He walked boldly out the door

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BLUE AND WHITE 23 drinttprg Harriet Field, ’31, Editor The cold November days are here. The saddest of the year.” How many times we’ve heard those words. And yet to me they’re dear. They need not be the saddest days Of all. 'though they are drear; , One “three-inch grin” from anyone Brings loads and loads of cheer. For as the sun lights up the sky. The bittersweet—the wood, So will one grin light up our hearts, And soothe our saddened mood. But still, of all the things Fve named. They really are just half; There’s not a thing that helps you more Than one good hearty laugh. Lois Bristol, ’32 SUGGESTED IMPROVEMENTS Extension of seats to afford room for R. Ryan’s legs. Speaking tidies for the girls of the Senior Class. A scale of. marks more encouraging to Latin and American History students. Shipping of the Eights, who cannot stand confinement, to the wild open spaces. A door to the main room large enough for two hundred to pass abreast. A painless, quick, and easy method of extracting athletic dues. A method of any sort for obtaining material for this paper. A few jokes for the Grinnery which do not smell of camphor and preservatives. A pencil sharpener that will function without annoying Mrs. Patterson. A way of getting by Mr. Carter with an unprepared lesson. Some lesks for Room I which do not have collapsible bottoms and unapproachable cavities. A quick and certain means of execution for the “better-mark-than-you” fiend. False covers for exciting novels, made to resemble text books. A quick, sure, and reliable antidote for long assignments. Some key to understanding French class conversation. “Horace!” gasped the poet as he entered his friend’s room. “Why. is there anything wrong. Rudolph?” inquired Horace. “Wrong! I wrote a poem about my little boy. I began each verse with the line: My son! My pigmy counterpart !’ ” “Yes.” murmured Horace. “Read.” he blazed. “Read what that idiot compositor did to that beautiful line.” Horace took the paper and read: “My son ! My pig! My counterpart!” —Selected.

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BLUE AND WHITE 25 with HER. The librarian, frowning at the retreating figures, grumbled to himself: “I do wish the young people would learn that the public library is no place for dates.” Henry Richardson, ’34 “Do you drink?” asked the prosecuting counsel. “That’s my business,” answered the indignant witness. “Any other?” asked the counsel. :—Selected An old Southern planter was discussing the hereafter with one of his colored servants. “Sam,” he said, “if you die first, I want you to come back and tell me what it’s like there. If I die first. I'll come back and tell you what it’s like.” “Dat suits me. Massa,” replied the old Negro, “but if you die first, Ah wants you to promise me you’ll come back in de day-time.” —Selected EIGHT TIMES A DAY A slow approach with muffled tread, A backward turning of the head, A sweeping glance around the room, A mien prophetic of our doom; The hand is poised to do the deed, Students are trembling like a reed, Perched on their toes,—ah, now at last! The period’s over—classes pass.