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

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6 VERGENXES HIGH SCHOOL in the future. There was nothing left to do. As the}' heaped their golden discs at Ladon’s feet, the sun, seeming truly to be under his command, burst forth in a stream of light upon the crowd of villagers. They gazed in awe at Ladon and he, as if inspired, pointed to the glittering mass of golden discs and said, “You have exchanged true happiness for these discs of sunlight; you have lost vour inner sunlight. Never has the Gate to Happiness been so ragged. You must build it with these discs—then, and only then, will your happiness be secure. Keep it untarnished ; it is priceless.” As he spoke these words he glanced at the faces of the hushed villagers and to his amazement the Young Man, who had laid the most discs at his feet, seemed enveloped in pure golden sunlight and Ladon, who saw deep into the Young Man’s eyes, knew that he too had seen the vision of happiness and would carry on. A WINTER DREAM Looking from my window. One cold and wintry night, I saw the snow fall gently And mask the earth in white. Then, sliding down a moonbeam. Came the queerest little elf. He wasn’t even big enough To climb upon a shelf. He scampered to the branches Of every stately tree, And covered them with crystals For everyone to see. When tripping to the brookside. He waved his magic hand, And turned it all to silver To form a mirror grand. Now. bouncing to the window. In front of me he stood, And started painting pictures Of fairy land and wood. Then, jumping on a moonbeam, He vanished from my sight. My only hope—that he’ll return Again some future night. Barbara Bristol, ’34.

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BLUE AND WHITE 5 THE SUN-BRINGER Melba Williams. '34 Into the little town of Happiness, separated from the rest of the world and. as they supposed, known only to its inhabitants, a Stranger had come. This brought a new problem to the people of the village which they had never met before. At first they were anxious to send him away for they were afraid of trouble, hut only a few hours after his arrival, when he had seated himself at Mrs. Crale’s dining table and begun his interesting story, the people who had at first been doubtful grew interested. “When I came into this town.” the Stranger said, “people ignored me and then decided to send me hack, hut after your decision to allow me a chance, I was given food, shelter and entertainment without giving on my own part a reward of any kind. What kind of town is this where one works for another without pay? What you need is this—and reaching into his pocket, he drew forth a handful of gold coins and laid them on the table. This action brought many cries and exclamations from the group as they marveled at the shining discs. Within a month everyone in Happiness carried the little “discs of sunlight. as they were called, and whenever a friend helped another, he was never pleased until he had been given a disc of sunlight as a reward. Only one person of the little community kept his gift of sensibility about him and refused to exchange his invisible sunlight for the discs. He was Ladon, the town’s Sun-Bringer, whose duty it was to chase away the clouds which darkened the road to Happiness. On the first day of the Stranger’s arrival Ladon had determined to send him back to his own country, but the people were anxious to give the man a chance, so Ladon could do nothing. When a year had passed, a strange feeling came over the inhabitants, one they had never felt before. The old man Ladon. whom they had always spoken to as a friend, was treated as a stranger now. He and his ideas of happiness were absurd. The Young Man, who had been the happiest and was always willing to help others gain the same level, was now the richest man in the town and cared for no one hut himself, he who was superior to all others. Ladon now felt that something must he done. Although he was old. he was still Sun-Bringer of the village, and he must do his duty. Certainly the people would respect his office although they cared naught for him. The day was dark and gloomy. The people were gathered around the public square as the result of a strange summons from Ladon. What could he want, and why had he called them after a year of silence? These thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Ladon, his plan resolved. The crowd at once became hushed and Ladon stated his purpose. “I am still Sun-Bringer of this village,” he said, “and until my death I shall try to keep the name of this town standing for all that it did a year ago. As I came down the road today I noticed the old gate of our village. which holds the wooden letters of the town’s name— “Happiness.” Never before have they been allowed to look as old and battered as they are today. I, therefore, command every person of this group to bring to the gate all the gold discs that he has—and after the Stranger has gone through the gate, a new one will he made of all those discs, which will represent true happiness by their glittering sunlight.” The old man feared this plan had little chance of being received, hut he prayed with all his heart that something would bring about the realization of his hope. As if in answer to his prayer, the clouds suddenly darkened. 'Hie people noticed this with fear, for perhaps this old man really had the power to make them unhappy or happy as he desired. They could not refuse now, for if he had such power he surely would use it

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7 BLUE AND WHITE SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK Earl German, ’33 It is that grey, gloomy hour just before darkness comes in the evening. In ten minutes the street lights will snap on. The narrow, dirty East Side street looks sinister and foreboding. There is no sign of life anywhere except the shrill twitter of sparrows, quarreling in the gutters. Suddenly a man steps out of a doorway, looks nervously up and down the street, hesitates a moment, then starts rapidly down the sidewalk. He has not gone fifty feet when around a corner two blocks behind him a long, open car swings into the street at a dangerous speed. The hurrying man hears it. glances quickly over his shoulder at the approaching car, then starts running down the sidewalk, glancing here and there as though looking for a place to hide, to crawl into, to escape. The car lurches toward him; he gives a hoarse scream. There comes a staccato of shots. The man crumples, falls forward on his face, and lies still in a grotesque heap. With a roar the car picks up speed and disappears down the street. Five minutes later. There is a noisy crowd in the street now. The police have just arrived. An ambulance, for which there is no need, rounds a corner and draws up to the curb, siren screaming. Joe Conzelli, killer and right-hand man of Spike Moran, East Side beer baron, has gone to join his ancestors. Fifteen minutes later. The street is quiet again. Once more the sparrows, fighting over a bit of refuse, are the only sign of life. Only another gang killing, an every day occurrence here in New York. One man killed; a little news for the papers; nothing more. MY TIN SOLDIER I found a wee tin soldier A-sitting on a shelf; Amid my books and papers He stood there by himself. His uniform was scarlet, II is musket straight and true; His eyes were understanding, Tho’ he was far from new. I took my wee tin soldier Along to school with me; Upon my desk I set him, Where I could plainly see. And when there came a lesson 1 knew I could not do, I’d look at my tin soldier, Standing straight and true. • He’d give me inspiration For work and for my play— I’ve kept my wee tin soldier f rom then until this day. Faith Kenyon, ’36.