Wilson Central School - Crest Yearbook (Wilson, NY)

Text from Pages 1 - 36 of the 1917 volume:

THE ORACLE 1917. Star print, Wilson, N. Y To one whom we respect as a teacher And as a friend Professor A. M. Mcllroy We dedicate this book. FOREWORD. The good old times are going fast Because our senior year is past, As we become less young each year, These last four years will seem more dear. As we grow older. With furrowed brow and ink-stained hands, We’ve formed ourselves in little bands, To make our Annual stand the test Of all the jeers and spiteful jests As we grow older. So do not be unkind dear friend For you we wish not to offend, If you will help us in our needs We will remember your good deeds As we grow older. Sel— CLASS MOTTO LABOR OMNIA VINCIT. Class Colors Class Flower Green and Silver Yellow Rose CLASS ROLL President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer - Historian Poet Gladys Swick Eloise Bartoo Lelah Martin Angeline McCormack - Ruth Angevine Grace Lampe Edith Swick Martin Schulze Earl Beach Laroy McMillian FACULTY Mr. A. M. Mcllroy Mrs. Cora M. Blake Madelyn F. Walker F. Olive Thomas Gertrude E. Copeland Principal Preceptress JUNIORS Class Motto Eine gute zeit fur Achtzehn Class Colors Maroon and Silver Class Flowers Buttercups-Daisies CLASS ROLL Marian Evans Marjorie Moore Winnifred Seeley Ruth Diez Ruth Albright Beatrice Carver Ada Fillingham Irene Fillingham Sadie Furman Ethel Middleton May Warner Geneveive Wilson Kenneth Jeffery President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer EDITORIAL STAFF. Editor-In-Chief,...............................MADELYN P. WALKER Associate Editors. - - - ANGELINE H. McCORMACK GRACE E. LAMPE Business Manager, ------ LELAH C. MARTIN MARTIN SCHULZE Advertising Manager, ----- RUTH L. ANGEVINE THE CLASS PRIMER. I. Angevind, alphabetically, stands at the head, Ever ready and willing to do, ’tis said. She’s typically business like, right to the core, Can collect bills and adds for us by the score. II. Eloise is a maid who to herself much does keep, But let us remember, “still waters run deep”. To her English Lit. is so attractive we hear, That she expects to study English more next year. III. Earl comes from Elberta, or somewhere up there. Of high marks he certainly has taken his share. This shows toil and talent, in fact means much more. But we cannot elucidate—this is line number four. IV. L stands for Lelah, and when we’re in the dark, She’s like the moon which illumines the park. Throws light on those subjects which to us seem mysterious, And in this way keeps us from growing delirious. V. L stands for Lampe too: happy and gay, Whate’er may betide her, she smiles all the day. Her lessons rre’er put her in bonds of despair, For Grace never worries—she banishes care. VI. M is for McCormack, who does so much playing That she’s a talented girl that goes without saying. She knows all the latest, and plays them just grand, She’s as musical a girl as you’ll find in the land. VII. Hoy’s good at figures, a scholar indeed! Entered showing the nerve which some of us need. Physically perfect, except as to the heart, Which you know has been wounded by Dan Cupid’s dart. VIII. S stands for Schulze with a brain so immense, (That he’s from Ransomville does not prove that he’s dense.) In German he’s more than considered a star, And could give some points to the powers that are. IX. Song and story tell us of the “Man behind the gun”. But there are other heroes, whose praise we have not sung. There are artists and poets with verses quite fine. And of these Edith Swick is the first on the line. X. And of Gladys Marie, a few words we might say. You recall, she’s the maid with the good natured way, She is cheerful, and those say who know her the best[ “An allaround girl, she will stand any test.” CLASS HISTORY. Genesis. CHAPTER I. 1. In the beginning (a) we were created bright and stupid. 2. And our minds were without form and void, and darkness was upon the expression of our faces. 3. And prof, (c) said Let there be light—and there was light. 4. And prof, saw the light that it was good, prof, (d) divided the bright from the stupid. 5. And they called the bright ones the honor section, and the stupid ones called she (e) the probation section. 6. And the beginning and the ending were the first day. CHAPTER II. 1. And it came to pass that there was dissension in the midst of the students and it divided the Sophomores from the Freshmen. 2. And the Sophs planned a banquet and left the Frosh without the Armament while they should feast within, and it was so. 3. And the beginning and ending were the second day. CHAPTER III. 1. And the Seniors said. Let the class bring forth a book, and ads yielding lucre and grinds yielding mirth. Whose pleasure is in itself after its kind; and it was so. 2. So the class brought forth a book, and ads yielding (f) lucre and grinds yielding (g) mirth whose pleasure is in itself after its kind; and it was so. 3. And the beginning and the ending were the third day. CHAPTER IV. 1. And the faculty said, Let there be lights in the Senior class to divide the Frosh from the Soph and let them be for signs, and wonders and wisdom and guidance. 2. And let there be lights in the Senior class to give light to the under classmen, and it was so. 3. And let there be two great lights, the Senior light to rule the day, and (x) electric light to rule the night; and the stars were made also. 4. And the faculty said, Let us make woman in our image, after our likeness and let her have dominion over the Seniors, over the unconscious re-Aexes of our ordinary (w) activities, each after his kind. 5. So we created man in his own image, each after the peculiarity of his kind, and we saw that it was good. 6. And the faculty saw everything that they had made, and behold it was very good. 7. And the beginning and the ending were our last day. a B. C. 4000. a Before Commencement. c Professor. tl Mr. Mcllroy e Mrs. Blake. f 20 dollars a piece. g (?) x Tungsten Lamps. w Wax works PROPHECY OF CLASS OF ’17. As I sat in my office one warm July morning, my stenographer handed me a letter. Upon opening it I uttered an exclamation of joy. It was from Mrs. Blake, and it brought back so many pleasant recollections of my dear old high school days that I at once made up my mind that one feature of my vacation should be a trip back to dear old Wilson. And so it happened that one day in early August, I boarded a train bound direct from New York to Buffalo. When I reached Buffalo, I found that I had nearly three hours to wait, so I started out for a walk. I had heard that my old classmate, Gladys Swick, was practicing law in Buffalo, and I very much wished that I might see her. As I sauntered along Main Street trying to make myself feel at home, whom should I meet but Marlin Schulze. I was of course very glad to see him, and as I extended my hand said, “Why, hello, Martin!” but upon closer observation I drew back. Although ho greeted me kindly, there was a difference between his now gracious Fraulein Angevine, and the old greeting “Hello, Ruth!” which I used to receive. He told me he was a music Professor, and asked me to come with him to his studio. I consented, and we soon reached his beautifully furnished studio. He introduced me to Frau Schulze, who assisted him in his teaching. After visiting for nearly an hour with them, they directed me to Lawyer Swiclc’s office in the Brisbane Building. After going up several stories in the elevator and looking at several doors, I came to ono marked “Gladys M. Swick, Lawyer”. I went in and was informed by her assistant that she could see no one for at least half an hour, as she was working on a case for the Rome, Watertown Ogdens-burg Railroad, involving millions of dollars. I decided to wait, however, and was rewarded at the end of nearly forty-five minutes by seeing her come toward me with outstretched arms. She seemed very glad to see me and cancelled all engagements for the next hour in order that we might visit until train time. When the train was due she walked to the station to see me well on my way to Wilson. When I boarded the train, whom should I see but Eloise Bartoo; as usual she carried a violin case. I went and sat down with her and she told me that she was just returning from a trip abroad, where she had been taking violin lessons of Professor Scott. She said she was going to stay at home for a few weeks and then she was going to New York to begin her winter engagement. When our train stopped at Lewiston Heights, whom should I see but Lelah Martin, putting a tire on a “Ford”. Eloise told me she had corresponded with Lelah and now Lelah was a physical training instructor and she had been teaching for nearly ten years. When I got off the train at Wilson, there stood an aeroplane, and beside it stood a young man about six feet tall. He heard me ask the ticket agent where the ’bus was. He told me that the auto 'bus was worn out; but I could ride down with him in his aeroplane. Just then I heard some one say “Hello, Beach!” then I saw that the young man was our demure little Earl of high school days. He said that he was a doctor, in Cleveland, and had come back to spend Sunday with some of his college chums. As I did not fancy riding in aeroplanes and as my traveling bag was light, I much preferred walking. I felt well repaid when I reached Mrs. Blake’s home, my heart was overflowing with joy at sight of so many familiar objects. The dear old school house, which I had not seen for fifteen years, and the home of our former respected and beloved Principal, Mr. Mcllroy, whom I had heard had retired on a pension and was living in a beautiful home in the city. Mrs. Blake greeted me at the door, and we had such an enjoyable time, talking of old school days. Roy McMillan had just stopped on his way from the County Fair to show Mrs. Blake his load of blue ribboned stock which he was taking home. At the mention of Roy’s name, my mind went back to my year in training class. I inquired if the school still maintained one, and Mrs. Blake told me that they had received fifteen applications from pupils who wished to attend, and the Board of Education had consented, with Miss Grace Lampe to teach the class. It was hard for me to imagine our Grace Lampe of old teaching training class, but as I look back, I remember how great was the love she always manifested for that particular work. I certainly enjoyed my visit, and as I rose to go I expressed my determination to visit my old friend Angeline McCormack, but Mrs. Blake assured me that was impossible, as Miss McCormack was in England studying at Cambridge for the summer, and in September she would take up her duties as teacher of the classics in Wellesley College. I was very sorry that I could not see her, but was very glad to hear she was so successful in her career. Then I found myself repeating the following lines: Father Time brings many changes,, But he leaves for us to tell In whatever path we live and toil, Whether or not they be well. R. L. A. ’17. NOT DEAD, JUST STEEPING. One little Junior one morning awoke, And thot she would play a nice little joke. She came to school just full of pep, And told the rest w.hat she dreamed as she slept. T’was a great big banner, all silver and green, Which on the east board could always be seen. They looked, and behold her dream was true, Just realizing that they had been dreaming, too. So one little Junior, the banner erased. And immediately, there, a junior banner was placed. This banner was turkey red and white, With a cute little ’18 right in sight. But we Seniors soon banished that, all right, Although the Juniors guarded it late at night. All the little Juniors went running home fast To tell their mammas of their bright little task. This trifle didn’t worry us Seniors a bit. But the poor little Juniors nearly had a fit. It’s all passed and gone and our trials are done. Next year will be the time for the Juniors’ fun. SUNSHINE AND DAISIES. It was such a happy, sunshiny day, and the heavy gate was ajar a big crack! Was it any wonder that Maggie could not resist? With a gleeful, watchful eye on the house, she tugged at the gate until she could insert her small self within the opening and squeeze through. Then, just as fast as the little feet could carry her, down the road she sped, amidst rising flurries of hot, yellow dust. Pant-ing, but gayly, when out of sight of the house, she slowed down to a light-hearted saunter, happily observant of all the breathing world of sights and sounds about her. Now she stopped to sniff delicately at some nodding buttercups, then she merrily raced an old white horse, kicking up his heels at pasture. She climbed the railing of a bridge across a little stream to poke at the minnows with a thin branch, and almost fell in headfirst. She was enjoying herself hugely. On the steep side of a hill she came upon a great field of daisies, nodding and bending in the soft breeze. With a gay little crow she dived under the wire fence to fill her hands full of the big white blossoms. With her fists full to overflowing with the treasures, their long stems trailing and weighing down their sisters, she wandered happily among the flowers, almost hidden amidst their luxuriance. Thus concealed, it was no wonder that the little old lady in black, so wearily walking along the road, started at the sweet-toned salutation: “Good afternoon! You pretty well today?” It was instant before she spied the touseled head among the daisies. Ah, good afternoon, dear. Have you been picking the pretty flowers?” Yes’m. I’ll give you some.” She stretched her chubby little fists out through the wires, with eager generosity. “Thank you, little girl.” The sad face softened into unaccustomed lines. “They are lovely. It’s very generous of you to give me your pretty posies.” “You'm welcome. Wait jes’ a minute ’n I’ll go with you.” She clambered through the fence, with the awkward aid, after an instant’s hesitation, of the old lady. “Do you live down this way?” “M— no’m. Over ’n there,” with a vague gesture of the fat little hand. Then, hastily, “Is that a ’rithmatic you’ve got? I know all about ’rithmetic,” proudly. My brother Ted, he studies it, ’n my mother says I can, too, some day, when I’m big enough.” Oh, no, dearie, this isn’t an arithmetic. This is a very famous book, ‘The Lives of Our Presidents’. I go 'round t® all the houses and sell it to the people. Then the men who print it give me part of the money that I get for every book.” “They must be nice men. Don’t you have to do nothing but that?” Well, that’s pretty hard, sometimes. You see, they don’t always want to buy it, and then I don’t get any money.” She smiled bravely down at the dimly comprehending, sympathizing eyes of the child. “And some days it’s pretty hot, and you get tired, you know.” “Yes’m, I know. ’N then you mos’ cry and your mother pulls down the shades, and makes it all nice and cool, ’n sings you to sleep—. Does your mother have curls? My mother has. But none of the other girls’ mothers do, even Ellen’s. Of course,” politely, Mothers are Jes’ as nice even if their hair is straight.” This little old lady was tired and discouraged and lonely. Perhaps this was the reason why she tripped unseeingly over a big stone in the road, and why her voice sounded so low. “Yes, my mother used to have curls, too; black curls, with black eyes, and the lovingest smile. And she used to rock me to sleep every night.” Are you too big now?” But the lady didn’t seem to hear the question. “Don’t you think that if we sat down here under this nice apple tree, you could eat one of the sandwiches they gave me at the hotel this morning.” Don t cry, I loves you,” the soft baby voice was anxiously sympathetic. Is you sorry 'bout something? Maggie will help you,” climbing half up into her lap, stretching the short arms consolingly about her. “Don’t cry,” with comforting concern. “Thank you, darling. There, now, the sun’s come out.” Oh, I'm glad. Was it because you wanted my sandwich?” The sun almost went under again at the remembrance of the unwholesome morsel, and of all the homelessness it, and the never-ending chain of just such untempting lunches for which it stood. But she straightened up bravely. “Oh, no! I’m going right back to the hotel, and I can get some more if I want them for supper. But, dear, it’s going to be your supper time pretty soon. How much farther do you live?” “Let’s go on a little bit farver, shan’t we?” “Farther? Why, where do you live? Back the way we came?” “Uh-m’ yes’m. But it’s such a nice day. S’pose we take a nice little walk.” “Why, child, you must tell me just where you live. Does your mother know where you are?” “I— don’t b’lieve so. She wasn’t home when I came away. She’s home now, though. I guess maybe p’raps, we’d better go see her.” “Is it far, dear? I’ll take you part way. What do you thing your mother will say to you, because you ran off?” Lm I don’t know. Aunt Lizzie’s there, and she’s cross, awful. My mother knows.” “We must hurry, dear.” “I don’t fink my mother’ll care, do you? Does being lonesome make you cross?” “Why, what do you mean?” “Being lonesome don't make everybody cross. ’Cause mother’s lonesome without farver, and she’s lovely. And she says everybody's lonesome, and that’s what makes so many lovely people, trying not to let the others be lonesome. You’re not cross. I like you. You’n me’ve had a lovely time, didn’t we?” It was such a heart warming, strange sensation. For the first time in all one’s life to have someone say “I like you. You’n me’ve had a lovely time together, didn’t we?” To feel a dear child’s hand opening the door so barred and bolted by one’s own timidity that one had lost hope of finding even one’s real, human self; of ever winning anyone to say I like you.” The glow had gone out of the sky. It was still clear and fresh, but cooler, and somehow everything seemed gayer, less full of color and light. She pressed the little hand so trustingly laid in hers. Yes, we have had a lovely time together, haven’t we? And weren’t the daisies beautiful?” “Yes’m. And they’ll be there tomorrow, too. There’s always daisies and lovely things, aren’t there, everywhere?” “Yes, dear, there are.” O you dear delightful notebooks. How I dearly love you all! For I can’t have fun till you are all done. So I sit home at night, just to write you and write. But you never are quite finished. No, I never am quite thru; And I long for the day, when to you I can say, “O farewell you old notebooks, I’m done with yop.” “CHURCH REVERIES OF A SENIOR.” I have a new bonnet; I’ll go up to church To hear the new preacher, young Mr. Ueetch: He’s simple and handsome, but they say he’s so shy That his sermons are long and dreadfully dry; But, being a bachelor, I’ll try for his sake, To look interested and keep wide awake. What a congregation! I’m glad that I came: That face is familiar, but what is her name? Ah, yes! at the social she sang through her nose: I wonder if Harry Nesbit will ever propose? The choir has finished its opening hymn. The preacher is too pale and awfully prim. His prayers I think tedious, prosy and long; They say that he thinks even dancing is wrong. What beautiful gowns that Beatrice Carver does wear! I wonder if she really does bleach her hair. She dresses awfully stylish and has a front pew. They say that she is as rich as a Jew. Ah! there goes his sermon. I must listen with care: Oh! hasn’t Winifred Seeley beautiful hair? I must catch if I can the drift of his text, I wonder what beau Verna Dyer will have next? Ah, me! how I wish the choir would sing. I’d give anything for a new diamond ring. Oh, why don’t the preachers all preach to the point? I have sat here until every bone is out of joint. I’ve a crick in my neck and a pain in my back. I declare, Marion Evans has on a new sack. And all lined through with the finest of fur. I never could see what folks fancied in her. Well, the sermon is progressing, I must listen and learn. How I wish he would warm up and not look so stern. Ruth Albright is in mourning, I wonder who is dead. She’d look well in black if her hair was red: In the pew right behind me is old Deacon Hunter. I don’t mind his sleeping, but Oh, such a grunter! Just hear that cross baby; I know Mr. Leetch Must hate so to have it disturbing the church. And how can he preach and pray through it all? They say Ruth Diez was the “belle of the ball,” That her dress was just lovely and dancing divine. But I won’t believe it was better than mine. The sermon is finished. The Bible is closed. The collection has wakened the deacon that dozed. I must feel in my pocket and get out my dime. Those boys in the gallery are having some time. Why there is Irene Fillingham. What a beautiful hat! She’d look more like Ada if she wasn’t so fat. And now we will have a tune from the choir. I think that their singing lacks feeling and fire. I wonder if Kenneth Jeffry will be in the hall, Or if he won’t join Ethel Middleton at all. She is so proud of her eyes with their sleepy lids. I do wish I had some new tan kids. “Old Hundred” is finished and I’ll get my muff. I think for one day I’ve had preaching enough. The aisle is so crowded we’ll have to go slow. Ah! There is Genevieve Wilson gone off with my beau. See how she struts in her new polonaise. I always did hate her impudent ways. I’ll pretend not to see her and turn up my nose. And show how indifferent I am to the beaux. There is Marjorie Moore waiting opposite to see If I had a gentleman come home with me. Ah, me! I just know Pa and Ma will be vexed For I have forgotten every word of the text. TO FLUNK OR NOT TO FLUNK. To flunk, or not to flunk—that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in class-room to suffer The slings and arrows of outraged teachers, Or to take arms against a field of zeroes, And by “digging” end them? To flunk in everything— What worse? And with a sweep to know we end Bad recitations and the thousand natural knocks” The High School pupil is heir to—is this a consternation Devoutly to be wished? To flunk in everything— To flunk! to be conditioned! Ay, there’s the rub; For with conditions ’fore us, what exams may come When we had prayed that we were finished. Must give us praise: There’s our neglect That makes calamity of high school life. GLADYS SWICK. She never is tardy, Nor says unprepared. No, never cuts classes, No, never looks scared. She never is noisy, Nor seems the least troubled When note books come due Or assignments are doubled. Count o’er these nevers, they number quite seven. Now you’ll think that this maiden were destined for But she is no grind—no goody-good. She merely does those things that she should. ELOISE BARTOO. Take me back to that dear western country Where I went as a wee child to school. Take me back to dear old Buster county. Where I learned the Golden Rule. I can’t stand the noise and the bustle, I will not be “pushed” in the least— I don’t want to shout or to hustle Like the folks all do here in the East. LELAH MARTIN. A stupid, a dummy, a blockhead am I, Ne’er can work math, problems, hard as I try. I study forever, morning and night. When prof, asks me a question, I can’t answer one right. I never do a thing on a written exam. Before every test, all night I must cram. A stupid, a dummy, a blockhead am I Don’t ask me the reason, I can’t tell you why. RUTH ANGEVINE. There’s a senior girl, who has full many a curl Right around the edge of her forehead And when she’s at work, she never will shirk. Do you wonder that she is adored? ANGELINE McCORMACK. The Editor! The Editor! That is an easy task. “What hard work have I to do?” Cried this innocent lass. O Editor! O Editor! Peace to thy weary brain. This book is out—published. Never to be done again. GRACE LAMPE. When Lampe starts to giggle, Don’t stop her. ’Tis useless and vain. To watch this poor child wriggle, You’d think she was in pain. She really is very quiet, But once she starts laughing, alas! Her laughter and tears run riot And innoculate the rest of the class. EDITH SWICK. Edith doesn’t raise a great deal of commotion, But she’s always on the job; She’s great at making sandwiches, For a very hungry mob. If you want someone to write a story, There’s no one can do quite so well As Dolly, our true, faithful Dolly, On whose merits we ever shall dwell. EARL BEACH. If you want any aspirations, To shine in physics or ’’math.” Don’t get in a class with Earl Beach, For he’ll surely arouse your wrath. His head is a perfect log table, He knows theorems frontward and back. Professor has given his this title,— A boy with a mathematical knack.” roy McMillan. Grind! Grind! Grind! Thru’ the wee small hours I work. Grind! Grind! Grind! For I’m never known to shirk. Grind! Grind! Grind! ’Till my yard long lashes shrink— Grind! Grind! Grind! ’Till I’ve used up all my “think”. MARTIN SCHULZE. Never pass examinations— Never do my lessons well, Never have a bit of patience, Always doing things pell-mell! Always used a trot in German— Always “sass” the teachers back. Always get quite flatly sat on, For the knowledge that I lack. Miss Smith (in psychology class)—“Does Mr. Schulze use his logical or verbal memory?” Class— Logical.” Who did the most laughing in training class and yet never had her psychology lesson? Ask Grace Lampe. Miss Thomas (to English II. class)— Your papers aren’t worth anything and some aren’t worth a D.” Who is the smartst girl in school? Ask Cora Anderson. Milford Luff is very fond of whistling. Has Doris Swick a fellow or would she like one? Miss Smith— How long is a fortnight. Miss Lampe?” Miss Lampe— One day and one night.” Ruth Angevine prevaricates a trifle at Senior food sales. Mr. Mcllroy (in English History)—“Where do cowards go?” Ruth Albright—“To a-a-a----.” Mr. Mcllroy—“Say a bad place.” Kathryn S.—“Cyclops peeked his eye out.” Mrs. Blake—“May we have less noise in the class room? If not, we will have to have a teacher in charge.” Evidently Miss Thomas or Miss Walker had been having some fun, too. Miss Smith has discovered a new way to spell caucus (cal kis). We wonder if Gladys Swick will enjoy walking home from the corner after Glee Club sleigh rides as much as she did last winter. Why didn’t Miss Walker go for an automobile ride Arbor Day? Ask her. Helen Coulter’s present home is in Wilson, but her future home will be in Kenmore. Miss Walker, in Latin I.—“Miss Schultz, you may give the genitive singular of nihil?” Ada Belle—“Ain't got none.” Does Esther Johnson need another Foote? Earl Beach (in American History class)—“When a fugitive ‘flies’ from one state to another--.” Winifred Seeley’s highest aim is to become a corpuscle (corporal) upon the death of Gladys Swick. Esther Johnson, in writing the prose sentence in Caesar, “Each man knows that his hope in regard to seeing his home has disappointed him,” omitted the verb. Miss Walker— Why, Miss Johnson, where is your ‘knows’?” “Dutch Cleanser for the complexion.” Recommendations and full particulars, see Lelah Martin. Save money. Don’t pay your dues.” By order of the treasurer. Does Mrs. Blake use black face powder? Roy McMillan, translating in German class—“The sun had rosen over the sea.” Miss Copeland— Miss Moore, don’t talk any farther than the outside row.” Rex Stacy— I want to buy a chicken?” Butcher—“Do you want a pullet?” Rex.—“No, ye nut; I want to carry it.” Ethel M.—“I told my friend last night that he could not see me any more.” Brother—“Well, what did he do?” Ethel—“Turned out the light.” Stout wife—“How do you like my masquerade costume? I’m a page.” Husband—“Page? You look more like a volume.” Roy M.—“I saw a dog commit suicide yesterday.” Martin—“Get out.” Roy—“Sure. He grabbed his tail in his mouth and said, ’This is my end’.” Why doesn’t Eloise like to stay and do bookkeeping after school any more? Said a Senior Boy to his Senior Girl, I am like a ship at sea, Exams are near and much I fear That I floundered will be.” Oh, no,” said she, the shore I’ll be Can’st rest your journey o’er?” Then silence fell and all was well, For the ship hugged the shore. What kind of a crowd does Angeline expect to have at a social? An oyster crowd. Mrs. White, meeting her former washwoman, Mrs. Carr, with her thirteenth little Carr in her arms, exclaimed, “Why, Mrs. Carr, another baby Carr?” Yes, indaid,” replied Mrs. Carr, and it’s me that’s hopin’ ’tis the caboose.” Genevieve Wilson, in Caesar— They deposited their baggage on this side of the Rhine which they could not carry with them.” A PONY OR TWO. What is this that I hear that they used to do? Never studied at all and yet they got thru Those difficult subjects which make us look blue, By keeping in touch with a pony or two?” No longer you’ll meet with a pony or two, For men have no use for a pony or two. And a large Latin class no longer can pass Since Mac made war on a pony or two. So pity the one who belongs to the crew That does nothing but use that pony or two. Tho’ it’s skilfully done it surely won’t do For her to be caught with a pony or two. For nothing’s so bad as a pony or two, And robs men of brains, like a pony or two. And he’ll come to grief who depends for relief On translations built up by a pony or two. THE ORACLE recommends its advertisers to its readers. Patronize them. Stephen Lane Folder, Inc. Manufacturing Jewelers, 180 Broadway, NEW YORK. Clubs and College Pins and Rings, Gold Silver and Bronze Metals. Arthur Bundy Wilson’s Billiard Hall AND BARBER SHOP. Cigars and Tobacco in connection. Compliments of George N. Smith, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Bell Phone 11-75-R. Dr. A. R. Lahey, DENTIST Lang’s Block 2001 Main St., NIAGARA FALLS, N. Y. % vvn v« U � i� ) ! ■• � I loci o f;o Hu Patronize them. J W. Bur master M ftuf oturor of and Dealer in ID messes. Horse Furnishing Goods, Trunks, Suit Cases, Etc. RAN SOM VILLE, N. Y. YvJe uHiiur, Shoe ami Harness Repairing. F. P. Seeley Real Estate Office. Money Loaned. Notes Discounted, Bills. Collected. Drafts Sold Agent for Penn, and Agricultural Insurance Companies. . Notary Public with Seal. WILSON, N. Y. M. H. Pierce Staple and Fancy Groceries. Do not forget that J. E. Petitt is dealing in Coal, Grain, Flour, Feed, Etc. THE ORACLE recommends its advertisers to its readers. Patronize them. Compliments of Victor Berlin. WILSON, N. Y. Compliments of John A. Burns, M. D. WILSON, N. Y. Office Hours: 1-2, 6-8 P. M. Bell Telephone 51-R-2. Go to E. J. Kingsley for Meats, Groceries, Confectionery, Etc. Compliments of Wilson State Bank THE ORACLE recommend its advertisers to its readers. Patronize them. SHOES L. W. Smith. Masonic Block. The City Drug Store. Ice Cream, Candies, Etc. GEORGE A. MIDDLETON. Goodrich Tires D. M. Pettit. Go to INCH’S for home Baked Goods and Lunches. THE ORACLE recommend it advertiser to it reader . Patronize them. Compliments of Peter Germain Harness Dealer. Shoes Repaired, Etc. Compliments of M. Walker and O. Thomas. Miller Brown Groceries, Dry Goods, Chinaware, and everything you wish. Fredonia Preserving Co. WILSON, N. Y. Niagara County Fruits and Vegetables. None Better. Always Good. THE ORACLE recommends its advertisers to its readers. Patronize them. ATTENTION ! Can you fill an $1,800 position? This is but one of the many gilt-edged calls we are receiving. Never has there been such a demand for well-trained young people in the following: Bookkeeping and Accountancy. Stenotypy. Shorthand Civil Service. We are fully equipped to prepare young men and women to hold positions like the one mentioned above. Terms reasonable. Investigate. The Bettinger Business Institute. Corner Niagara Ave. and Main Street, NIAGARA FALLS, N. Y. THE ORACLE recommend it advertiser to it readers. Patronize them. The Real Dairyman. He is not a milkman who sells milk only and whose activities end in the amount of milk he can produce, and what he can get for it. It constitutes more than this. He must be a dairy stock man to be a success. He cannot be this when he sells milk instead of cream. Young calves need skimmed milk. Subsitutes cannot suffice to keep them growing sleek and nice. For further information write The Fairmont Creamery Co., 170 Michigan Ave. BUFFALO, N. Y. Dependable Nursery Stock. Fruit Trees—the best commercial sorts. Berry Plants, Grape Vines, decidious trees of all kinds for lawn and street planting, Flowering Shrubs, Vines, Clematis, old fashioned flowers, Rhododendrons, Boxwood, Bay Trees, Evergreens, rare Paeonies and hardy field-grown Roses. Splendid assortment to select from. See us before buying. The Wilson Nurseries. THOS. MARKS CO., Props. “The Home of Good Nursery Stock.” THE ORACLE recommend it advertiser to it reader . Patronise them. Brick, Lime, Cement and Plaster constantly on hand. All kinds of Building Paper and Patent Roofings. Let us figure on your wants and be convinced. Wilson Lumber Co. Use Peerless Wood Fiber Plaster if you want a good wall. Compliments of Dr. G. S. Skillman VETERINARIAN, RANSOMVILLE, N. Y. Phone (Bell) 31-F-21. Go to the “Wilson Ice Cream Parlor” for Quick Lunch, Home Baked Goods. High grade Confectionery and Hoffleri’s Ice Cream. Compliments of Dr. A. E. Bartoo, WILSON, N. Y. J?'