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

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BLUE AND WHITE 9 EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT February 27. 1860 Today, at Cooper Institute, I presided at a meeting of the Young Men’s Central Republican Union. The speaker of the day was a man from the West, Abraham Lincoln, known to the East only through word of his successful debates with Douglas. As best I could, before he spoke, I studied the man. He was obviously nervous, and no wonder—with his ill-fitting clothes and awkward country manner. He might impress the Western farmers, of whom he himself was one, but I had my doubts about this sophisticated Eastern group. I introduced him. Awkwardly he approached the center of the stage. Every eye was upon him. “Mr. President, and Fellow-Citizens of New' York,” began his high pitched drawl. A stir swept over the audience. With all my heart I pitied the man. But little did 1 know him! He started his subject. At once he went directly to the point, presenting Douglas’s recent statement that “our fathers, when they framed the government under which we live, understood this question as well, and even better than we do now.” He stated the question. Pie made clear who “the fathers of our government” were. He proved that they had already acted upon this question in the favor of the Republicans. He addressed the Southerners themselves. He proved THEM to be unjust, sectional, and non-conservative. not the Northerners. With scathing irony he presented their case, and their arguments. He had by now warmed to his subject. He did not need my pity; he demanded my respect, and that of every man in the audience. His was not the grand eloquence of Webster; it was the simplicity of the man that was compelling. With his clear logic he shattered every argument of Stephen Douglas and the entire South. At last he addressed the Republicans themselves. Pleading with them to do their duty as they saw it, he ended. The crowd that had at first regarded him critically, now rose to its feet with one accord. The hall rang with applause. He was undoubtedly a success. Somehow I know this man is destined to be great. Soon the North and the South must clash over this question. Already I hear thunder in the distance. Is this man fated to pilot us through the coming storm? I wonder. Shirley Haven, ’34. WHY? Barbara Bristol, ’34 While walking in the garden This early sunny morn, I saw a lacy evening dress A fairy once had worn. I found a shady silent place Where I could think things out, For T was greatly puzzled As to how this came about. Last night the moon shone brightly, Of that I was quite sure, There also was the music Of an insect overture. With these considerations I still do not know why The little gown was left there. What does it signify?

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8 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY Joan Casey, ’36 It was eleven-fifty on New Year’s Eve. The party was well under way. The orchestra was playing. Paper hats were bobbing on the heads of the dancers. Dim, rosy lights twinkled overhead. and on the tables tall candles flickered palely. Everywhere paper streamers; everywhere gaudy balloons floating like a swarm of butterflies over the heads of the dancers resting upon the shoulders of those seated at the tables. Everyone was merry, it seemed. Only one lone guest, at a corner table, smoking silently, took no part in the merriment. Dark and handsome, in correct evening dress, he drew many admiring looks, but he sat frowning and indifferent, alone. He was evidently the unwilling escort of some fair dancer. Suddenly, at the height of the din and the stir and the gaiety, a crimson balloon, tangled with a mass of paper streamers, fell across the flames of one of the flickering candles on a table not far from the lone man. The table was surrounded by a gay group. Swish— came the dread whisper of licking fire! In a breath there followed a growing shaft of glaring flame, shooting upward, and the shrieks of frightened women and the scraping of chairs and the rushing of feet. Panic! In a moment there would have been trampled, helpless forms to check the stampede toward the exit. But, over the wild confusion, rang a commanding: “Stop,” in a voice that held all as if in a spell. The lonely watcher had sprung up, shouted his order, and, in one leap, was beating out the rising flame with his overcoat, hastily torn off, tearing down the streamers, stamping upon and smothering the smoldering mass of fire that had fallen to the floor. It was over as soon as it had begun. Laughter rang out again and the music burst forth with new volume. Some of the guests gathered about the hero of the occasion, but he paid no heed to anyone save a tall, lovely woman in a scarlet velvet gown. He spoke to her, frowning. “Aren’t you ready to go home?” he asked. “Oh, I must have one more dance,” she answered gaily, and floated off in the arms of a tall partner, her blond head shining against his dark shoulder. “Ha, Ha!” jested one of the men, “Your girl turned you down, eh?’ “Girl nothing!” growled the hero, sulkily, as he slouched back to his table. “Girl, nothing! She’s my mother!” APRIL TWELFTH Mildred Bruce, ’34 April skies don’t always smile And today is dreary; Skies above are overcast Making all hearts weary. Now the heavens pour down rain And the wind is blowing. What! I can’t believe my eyes ! Yes, indeed! It’s snowing. April showers bring May-flowers In the early spring; But I ask you, Mother Nature, What do April snows bring? Do they bring the snow-drop? Bowing to.the breeze? No. they only bring more sap To the maple trees.

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10 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL TREATISE ON THE PRESENT FASHIONS IN HATS “The Tatler,” Thurs., Feb. 22, 1934 No. XXI It is with some fear and trembling that I take my pen in hand in humble defense of the present fashion in hats. This afore-mentioned feeling is caused by the fact that, as a member of the male species. I should have comparatively little to say on this matter. Certain of my feminine admirers will, no doubt, belittle my feeble attempts at discussing so important (in their minds) a subject, of which I have so little knowledge. However, it seems certain that, we men should voice our heartfelt appreciation of our fairer companions’ choice in present hat fashions. Several of the Club frequenters have advanced opinions in this matter, and I now take it upon myself to acquaint my readers with their expressions of appreciation. The best of these was voiced by Forest Brooks, the well known naturalist, who said that the new and superb creations in hat fashions would give us a fuller appreciation of nature. By this, he explained, he meant that the off-the-face, trough-shaped models reminded him of a turtle’s back. He suggested, in all good faith, that a profitable industry in turtle-shells might be established whereby turtles, having been caught and scalded, should be relieved of their shells. These would subsequently be made into stylish new hat creations. His companions readily agreed to his proposal and Wealthy Want-More, the Wall Street Banker, suggested that the turtle’s flesh be utilized for turtle soup, thus eliminating the poor lamb who has, formerly, ful-filled his duty as “mock” turtle. Personally, I find the new hat fashions most pleasing. They are such a protection as to render a coat collar most unnecessary. This, of course, enables coat manufacturers to manufacture collarless coats, consequently lowering the cost of production and the cost of the coat to its buyer. Thus, it is easily seen that the tiny, unassuming creation called Milady’s bonnet has caused a most pleasing and economical reduction in coat prices. I invite any of my readers, of either sex. to mail to me by - Saturday’s Post, their carefully conceived opinions of this treatise. These letters will be carefully read, judged, and a few selected to be published in a continuation of this treatise next Thursday. Please address communications to “The Twentieth Century Spectator,” No. 2263 Wool worth Building, New York City. Shirley Adams, ’34. THE SOLUTION of the HERLOCK SHOLMES MYSTERY Morris Sorrell is the murderer. He declared positively that the only gun he had fired recently was a .22 calibre Remington rifle, which would not leave specks of burned powder. Therefore Sorrell was lying, while Booth acknowledged shooting a revolver the night before. And so another case goes down in history solved by the great Herlock Sholmes.