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

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BLUE AND WHITE 9 he took out his handkerchief, wet it in the bubbler, and wrapped it around his face. At last he saw the flag in the midst of all the smoke. He imagined he was in a battle with Washington and that he could see Old Glory waving in the breeze. He unfastened the flag and rolled it in a tight roll. Fire was snapping and cracking all around him, and red and blue flames were bursting through the principal’s office. Everywhere he saw fire. Putting the flag inside his shirt, he got down on his hands and knees. In this way he did not get quite as much smoke and could feel his way slowly downstairs. Suddenly he fell through space and a sharp pain shot through his leg. The next thing he knew, he was lying on a coat under a tree. He tried to get up but found that his leg pained him and that it was bandaged tightly. Joe came over to him, grasped his hand, and asked rather huskily, “How are you feeling, Old Pal?” He caught Frank’s faintly mumbled answer, “All right, except for this bum leg ” Then he pulled out the flag. “I got the flag, Joe.—Our flag------------ Washington’s flag.” With this he slipped back into unconsciousness. About a week later as Frank lay in bed, Joe came into the room. “I’ve good news for you, Frank,” he burst out. The class has unanimously declared that you have won the George Washington contest. As soon as you are well, we are going to present you with the money.” “I’m glad,” Frank answered weakly. Just then his mother, better now and anxious for his welfare, came into the room. “Well, Soldier,” she greeted, “I’m glad to see you feeling so well today, but it’s time you rested now.” Yes, Mrs. Ruthford,” Joe interrupted, “and we’ve all agreed that Frank is a second George Washington.” TRANSITION Mary Lance, ’33 The mist rose soft on the picture lake As the light in the east came through, And the liquid notes of the hermit thrush Were borne to us clear and true. 'I'he birch that stood on the water’s edge Was reflected in mirror gray, Like a magic road where a fairy band Had fled on that shimmering way. Then the mist was gone from the picture lake, And the melody died away; And the breathless hush which had held us there Was gone with the coming day.

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8 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL GEORGE WASHINGTON, SECOND Shirley Adams, ’34 Say, Frank!” shouted Joe. the president of that noted class, the Sophomores, of Cranford High, “All the other classes are having contests. What are we going to do about it?” Frank Ruthford scratched his head thoughtfully and replied in a speculative manner. Looks as though we would have to begin something righc away. Here it is February, and the Sophomores have had no contest. Wen, well; here comes Jimmy Bradford. He looks mighty slick in those new clothes.' The boys were both Sophomores at Cranford. They were as unlike as could possibly be. but they were the best of friends. Frank Ruthford was short and stockily built, with blue eyes and sandy hair. He was as honest as his eyes were blue. Frank had one trait with which he greatly amused his classmates. He was a born mimic. Sometimes this peculiar ability got him into trouble, such as the time he had imitated the heavy tread of Miss Pringle, a staid, spinster teacher, who kept a ruler in her desk drawer and did her hair in two pugs on top of her head. The admiring throng of students were convulsed with laughter, and especially, as Joe remarked afterward, “When Prinksy turned around and saw Frank. I thought I’d split. He was pretty much unprepared for her that time.” Joe Collins was the president of the class and also Frank’s chum. He was dark, with black hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. The conversation just given is to bring to you some idea of the way things were at Cranford. Frank went around singing “Brown Eyes, Why Are You Blue?” to Joe, and Jimmy Bradford whistled “Time on My Hands.” The Sophs were in a tight place. February, and no contest! But all things come to those who wait. Monday morning Joe called a class meeting. Much speculation was in progress. Billy Morse said that Joe wanted to collect class dues. One of the girls groaned, “Another candy sale!” But they didn’t know Joe. After calling them to order, he plunged into the thickest of the fray. “We have decided to stage a George Washington contest for the next two weeks. Anyone doing any fine thing that he thinks Washington might have done, report to Joan Bartley, giving your name, the date, and what was done,” Joe told them. The contest had been on a week and Frank had not done anything that he considered like George Washington’s deeds. He wanted so much to win, but when one is taking care of a sick mother, he has no time to spend looking for heroic deeds to be planted in front of him. That night Frank went to bed with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Just one more week to go. He lay thinking about it for quite a while, and finally he drifted off to sleep. He awoke with a start when he heard the shrill fire siren rend the air. While dressing hurriedly, he shouted to his mother and told her where he was going. Bumping and jostling others, he ran down the street. Finally he saw— The schoolhouse was in flames! The flag!” he cried. Everyone knew what a valuable and cherished flag it was. Every student in the school was so very proud of its history! Lieutenant Knowden had brought it home from the World War where it had fluttered bravely through many battles. It had two honest-to-goodness slashes made by German bullets. Of course they had been sewn up, but still just to look at them gave one a pleasant, prickly feeling of pride. Before any one could stop him, he was in the rapidly burning building, groping his way up to the second story. The smoke choked and blinded him, so

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10 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL FROM A WESTERN WINDOW Euphrosyne Ward, ’35 The sun, setting in all its glorious colors, showed a last ray above the snow-covered hill. The trees, not a leaf on them, stood silhouetted against the sky. Here and there an evergreen raised itself proudly among the bare trunks of its less fortunate friends. To give the scene a more blissful peacefulness, the road wound among the houses and left an impression of a river, gliding through its many curves. The sun sank lower. A small white house beside the road caught the last colors on the roof, passing them to the snow. Near the house a small pond of ice for skating shone like a polished mirror. This also had a touch of the color. Twilight settled softly over the scene. Mailer Hyatt 1915-1931 '3ffor utltu knouts if life tying that ute rail heaty 3s life. atth uur life hying—utho ran knout ? S’attr only that ute all beneath the sun Are airk atth suffering, anb tyose gone before Not sirk, not tourheh with euil.” Enriyihes