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

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BLLE AXD WHITE 9 I have mentioned before that he was a white clog with fluffy hair. This hair became less white very rapidly. In a few days I had to give him a bath. Being delicate and high-pedigreed he would have to receive the proper kind of a bath. I was to seek information on the care of dogs in order to give said bath properly. It was some time before I ascertained the breed and determined the proper method. The bath was a night-mare. I believe he hated to take it almost as much as I hated to give it. From the first he was a job to handle. I had him well cleaned except for his ears and two feet when he managed to slip under my arm and away. Then and there I got my own idea of a merry-go-round. We circled the kitchen table until I was so dizzy I could have sworn 1 was chasing at least five or six dogs. One time I got the milk pitcher on my head and another a dish of chocolate pudding. Finally I baffled him by staying under the table until I saw a chance to get him. I took the chance and got one leg and a bump the size of an egg. When I finished his bath he looked like a wet rag instead of a dry mop. it went on like this for days. I was becoming a nervous wreck. Finally I decided either he would leave or I would. He left. This was one of my life’s few horrible experiences. I only hope that if God has created things worse than a high-toned pup he will keep them out of my life. TREES It was a late October afternoon as ----- and I sat in a rustic chair formed by a crooked limb of a tree by the lake shore. The sun was about to set and the whole mountain on the opposite shore seemed aflame as the colors of the frost-tinted trees were thrown back across the still, blue-green waters of old Champlain. “Aren’t those beautiful colors just a picture unpaintable?” — exclaimed. “It seems I’ve never seen the foliage as beautiful as it is this fall, the golden-yellow of the birch, the red of the hard maples, and every now and then a DOWN AMONG THE Down among the beech trees, North of a rocky hill, A shaded path I follow When all the world is still. The home of little chipmunks Is at the journey’s end; The woodland gives me welcome; My footsteps onward trend. sprinkling of green; the faithful old evergreens surely make themselves stand out with their perpetual green coats.” That was the last time ------- and I enjoyed the trees’ splendor that fall, as school life took up so much time. Nevertheless, many a day as I sat dreamily in school on cold winter afternoons. I often gazed at the lacy outlines of the trees, now without any vestige of cover, except here and there an occasional thin blanket of snow on their lacy fingery branches. Robert Cotey, ’33. BEECH TREES Down under tussocks mossy A little hole I see— A vestibule so tiny. With neither lock nor key. Beneath an arch of lichens A little porch stands out. With Nature’s magic touches And tufts of ferns about. Now when I'm feeling lonely, My heart is sad until The shaded path I follow. When all the world is still. Barbara Bristol, ’34

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YERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL CY’S COW BESS Edward Ryan. ’35 I had the pleasure of paying “Uncle Cy” a visit last summer. Cy was the typical New England farmer. Bright eyes peered over ancient spectacles, while a little white beard waggled with his every word. He showed me the farm with great pride accompanied by explanatory words and shrill cackles. Finally he showed me his cow Bess. The cow had sad eyes somewhat resembling those of a hound. One could ponder for hours gazing into those eyes. One had inspirations. One made resolutions. Another feature was the movement of Bess’s ponderous jaw. One moment it was closed. Then suddenly it would drop, veering slightly to the left, gradually rising. With one motion its course was altered and the jaw would return to the former position only to repeat the exercise. It was amazing that it didn’t tire. However Bess was a super-animal. I stepped nearer to watch the process better when a foot shot out with great speed and power, narrowly missing me. “Right spirited critter, hey boy?’’ queried Cy with a cackle. I had to admit that she was, while retreating to a safer distance. Then Cy narrated a bit of history about his cow Bess. Our assistant editor in his own characteristic way, tries his skill at stories “Wal, it’s like this. When she was a young ’un she was uncommon spry. She ’ud allays go chasing off a jumping over fences and the like. We sure had a hard time to hold ’er down, boy—we sure did. We usta put a lot of weights and things on her, but it didn’t do no good. No sir-eee. It didn’t do no good. She was right handy at slippin’ ’em off. Once she was gone fer tew whole weeks. We found her ten miles off on an island in the middle of a lake. She had swam out and was chewin’ grass just as contented as could he. Wal. a vet came and looked her over when he heard how remarkable she was. He made a bet of $500 that she would live to be twenty years old. I tuk him up. but I wanted that $500 pretty bad, so fer the last few months I’ve been kinda slippin’ up on her care. She’s eighteen now and I think she’s jest as spry as ever. Heh, heh. I guess I’m gonna lose my bet. Wal look there, will ya!” I looked—and saw Bess gasping her last breath. A few minutes later a beautiful life was gone forever. The ill treatment had finally taken effect. Bess was no more. All Cy said was— “Heh, heh! Gosh durn it all—the critter jest earned $500 in one minute!” of animal lore. You have the result. —Editor’s note. OUR NEW PUP Edward Ryan, ’35 I was enjoying my favorite pastime reading the latest “Sport Story Magazine” and gnawing on some candy with quiet and peace throughout the house. A bark, probably meant to make me jump to the ceiling, interrupted me. Being rather irritated, I looked for the cause of my interruption. After some minutes of searching I espied an object greatly resembling the bottom of a dry mop, the only difference being that the dog—for upon closer examination I discovered that it was a dog—had white fur. After a few more ferocious growls he decided I would pass in the dark and began biting my hands and tearing the magazine—the precious magazine that had set me back exactly fifteen cents. Needless to say we became enemies. To make matters worse I was elected to take care of him.

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10 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL IGp leparti'nmtt iFrunraia —--------------------—■---------—----- Une Rue dans Paris Je vois dans ce tableau un batiment dans la rue de la Seine. Ce batiment est fait en bois et en platre brun. II est divise en deux parties, dans l’une il y a une epicerie et dans 1’autre un magasin de nouveautes. On y voit sept fenetres. chaque fenetre a un balcon avec une boite de fleurs. Dans lepicerie i! y a deux grandes fenetres et uii£ petite porte d’entree et au milieu du batiment il y a un grand portail. A droit je vois aussi deux grandes fenetres et une petite porte d’entree. Dans I’etalage du magasin de nouveautes il y a des vetements pour toute la famille. Par le portail on pent entrer dans une cour interieure. Cette cour est tres jolie, une fontaine se trouve au milieu entouree de belles fleurs. Dans la rue une blanchisseuse porte un panier plein de linge propre. Un Homme, qui a l’air faible, passe devant le magasin de nouveautes. Le ciel bleu est plein de images blancs. Cette rue de la Seine est tres jolie. Eleanor Gee, ’35. Petit-Pere Raoul Mercier etait un jeune artiste, tres talente, tres attrayant mais tres pauvre. Depuis trois jours il n’avait ni mange ni dormi, et sa misere sem-blait etre insupportable quand il re-marqua par accident une annonce dans un vieux journal. Cette annonce, di- sait que le comte de Villemaire desifait acheter une peinture et qu’on donnerait plus de renseignements a ceux qui se presenteraient au chateau Mevel. Raoul s’y rendit mais presque sans esperance. On lui dit que monsieur le comte allait donner une peinture a son fils et qu’il aimerait une scene qui suggere l’amour d’un fils pour son pere. Par consequent il donnerait une somme enorme a celui qui offrirait la meilleure composition. Raoul, un peu emu par cette demande extraordinaire, prit la resolution de faire un vrai chef-d’oeuvre. Au bout de trois semaines, apres avoir peint sans cesse, il completa son ouvrage. A sa grande joie il fut choisi ] ar le comte et Raoul fut recompense genereusement. C’etait un portrait ex-quis, peint en couleurs riches et douces avec des lignes delicates qui depeignait un jeune garqon qui regarde le portrait de son pere avec admiration. Le titre du tableau etait “Petit-Pere.” Mary Bourget, ’33. Les Feuilles d’Automne Quelle belle saison que l’automne! Le ciel est d’un bleu intense, les der-nieres fleurs d’automne commencent a faner et l’herbe a se secher. Regardez les feuilles. Oh! les belles feuilles de couleurs si gaies. Elies tombent, tour-nant et dansant dans l’air. Elies res-semblent a de belles' dames en toilette de soiree, a de belles dames qui dan-sent si legerement.