Wilson Central School - Crest Yearbook (Wilson, NY)

Page 11 text:

Professor’s room, lined with clocks of all kinds, with leering faces and accusing hands pointing at him, and shrill alarms sounding at the same time. He awoke early in the morning pale and haggard. In his mind, one thought was uppermost, a resolve never to do such a thing again. He paced the floor; he studied geometry diligently, anything to pass the dragging time before school commenced. At last one by one the boys came quietly into the chapel. A vague unrest pervaded the room. The boys slid into their places without the usual hearty greetings, and excited talking about hard lessons, or problems unworked. Prof. Page came striding in (Sliver had never befere noticed what a manly walk and what a determined jaw he had.) After looking around, he talked in a very grave voice to them. He was sorry, he said, that he had any boys in school who would do such an underhanded trick as had been done the night before. After a short talk about manliness, which the stillness of the room showed had gone straight to their hearts, he said it would be unnecessary for him to ask who did the deed. Then he called classes as usual, and later came quietly to Sliver’s desk and asked him to step into the office after school. Pale and trembling, with eyes almost ready to overflow with unmanly tears from the strain he had been under, Sliver went into the office. The Professor looked up and smiled. “Be seated, Mr. Burton,” he said. I wanted to ask you if you didn’t think it would be better for your course if you took Ancient History instead of Geometry?” Sliver gave a gasp, and without answering the question, told all, and in a manly way asked the Professor’s pardon. The Professor grasped his hand heartily for answer, and smiled again. It was said that never before did a boy love his teacher as Sliver loved Prof. Page (now no longer the “Sheet”) and never were there better behaved boys in the school than Sliver and the Anderpreps. G. E. H. ’12.

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“Aw forget it,” he hissed as he threw himself down on the floor. “What’s it?” said Dick the new boy. “Why Tom took a girl home for the first time, the other night. Her place is the other side of here, so when he got this far, he tipped his hat, and said ‘good-night.’ Now, she won’t speak to him.” But a sudden noise interrupted them. It was a shrill alarm, a second, and still another, until it would have been impossible to have told what the unearthly, ear-splitting racket was. The air was vibrant, as with the crashing and clanging of a thousand different machines. The boys held their ears, and looked at one another—to talk would have been impossible. They had not been prepared for such a loud noise. Then gradually it stopped until one smothered alarm—the one under the pillow was heard, and an omnious stillness reigned. “Say boys, good-night for us, I think. Let’s all get to bed, and all be asleep before Sheet comes,” said Jim. “You’ve got to say the Anderprep’s pledge before you go through,” said Sliver, and a low hum of voices arose. “Liver die, sinker swim, surviver perish, we’ll never squeal on an Anderprep until death do us part.” Then, to make it more binding, Sliver reached for a book (which proved to be a geometry) and each boy in turn laid one hand on the book and the other on his heart, and solemnly swore “I do so declare!” then they all stole quietly to bed. But funny as it had seemed before, it did not seem such a good joke now. The moon went behind a heavy curtain of clouds; the wind rattled the windows, and a dog howled badly and dismally. The electric lights went out, and uncanny sounds came from different parts of the building. He fervently wished that he had not played such a trick. Suppose someone were to tell, and he were to be expelled! His father never would send him to school again. His mother would look so sadly at him, and how the old ladies would talk! Resolutely he turned over. He would not think of it. At last he fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamed of being in the

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p One day not long ago, a remarkable event took place at Wilson harbour. The people were awakened from their calm serenity by loud terrific noises. Everyone rushed to the power house, wondering who had teen blown to pieces. But all the men seemed to be alive. Upon further investigation the noise appeared to come from nearer the shore. It sounded like an entire regiment fighting. Such blows an l cries. So the people telephoned for help thinking it was a foreign invasion. The people of Wilson responded nobly to the call. They all grabbed the most convenient weapon, such as axes, pitch-forks, hoes and crowbars and rushed toward the lake. The women followed excitedly with brooms and mop-sticks over their shoulders. A few of the more adventuresome procured, from some obscure place, the fire apparatus, and rushed it down to the wharf. For perhaps the enemy would burn the town. The dogs howled and the children gave terrified screams. The school bell was tolled with such violence that it was cracked, and now hangs in the town hall. Even Mr. Church, that stern officer of justice, forgot about hunting up truant children and went with the crowd. Such unearthly sounds were never before heard in Wilson, except when the Seniors gave their yells. In desperation, ‘‘the board of health,” ’phoned to Albany for State Aid. The horror stricken mob wTent with ashen faces and trembling steps toward the harbour. Surely this lake was filled with boats of a foreign enemy, or the world was coming to an end. ‘‘Halt!” cried the commander, who was no other than Mr. Mcllroy. The crowd paused breathlessly. “Let a few of the bravest go cautiously over yon bank, and perhaps we can decide our plan of attack, if we know where the enemy is locatr-ed.” Twelve valiant men rushed forward, and as they reached the embankment, became terrified by the sight, and fell over. “Forward March,” cried the leader. The enemy advanced to the edge and found —