Washington High School Cadets - Adjutant Yearbook (Washington, DC)

Page 94 text:

Monologue By Any Mother .bl That's Jim! Look quick, Mrs. Sullivan! Here he comes, my youngest boy, Jim! And I'm feeling sure that no other boy Has got a chance against him. How can I tell him from all the rest? Why, look at the way he smiles! And the set of those shoulders in that blue suit, I could tell him a thousand miles. You haven't picked him out yet? Well, look! He's just behind the band, His company's just coming through the gate, All following his command. When he started to high school, four years ago, He used to corne home and say, I'll be a captain yet, ma, you'll see. He's lived ever since for that day. His first year he used to come home from drill So tired, and hot, and worn: And he carried a gun that seemed taller than him, I'd most cry, he looked so forlorn. He seemed so little, and slight, and young, He was just my baby boy, Jim: I used to urge that he drop the cadets, But he'd always answer, Not him! Now, where could you find a prettier sight Than those rows of straight, fine boys, And the riot of color throughout the stands, And the cheering, and tumult, and noise! l76l Oh Jim! did you have to make those boys Flop on the ground that way? And their suits all pressed, and their shoes all shined, And all looking so festive and gay. Oh dear! that little boy lost his hat! And another one dropped his gun! Ah Jimmie, does that mean you've lost your chance, And that some one else has won? Jimmie, look out! you're leading those boys Into that white-washed fence! Those men are putting down marks in a book, They'll say that wasn't good sense. Thank heaven, you turned those boys just in time! That showed grit, and quick thinking, too! If your father had only lived to see The way you carried that through! There come the colors! the judges! the Hag! Now we'll soon know who has won! I feel almost sick with suspense, but I know It will go to some mother's son. Hurry! don't stand and delay like that! Oh, why pick a slow-poke like him! He's turned! and he's walking toward my boy! Thank God! He's won! My youngest boy, Jim. Lettie Ethel Stewart

Page 93 text:

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Page 95 text:

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