Yeatman High School - Yeatman Life Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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, ,,,,,,,,,.-,..-...,........-...,.............,,...........-.,...,.,.,...,,,,...,,.,.,....,.,-1- --N . .A..- H-..,.. I. H A.. 4. Y,.-..,,,,,,.,..,....,... .W', ,::: ' 'zflv DICTATED BUT NOT SENT IWARGARET CARROLL'-JLIIIC, 1919 Paris, France, Nov. 17, 1793. My dear Catherine de Medici : I AM writing to tell you that that im- fgtfh l poster, the Duchess' de Arguello, has insinuated today that you are I the wickedest woman in the world. I should say, Off with her head at once, for I know that you are the best friend I have, having executed only about five hundred bourgeoise. But what are they? Trash! Today just before lunch I ordered Turgot and Necker to be executed-stupid things- and you can't imagine how my appetite was improved at lunch, knowing they were out of the way. IN e have been having quite a time with the mobs this season. They woke me at one o'clock one afternoon for some silly reason. I had ten of them executed and then went back to bed. My dressmaker had the nerve to .tell me the other day that I was getting fat. I had her tongue cut out to teach her a lesson. Wfell, such is life: one darn thing after another. You don't mind if I have a few words mispelled. My mother, Maria Theresa, was always a matchmaker and she wouldn't let me hnish school. I had to marry Louis, and I didn't like him either. I-Ie is so fat he steps all over my feet when we dance, and he is forever monkey- ing with -old locks. I threatened to divorce him last week. I-Ie is rather moody today, for the Assembly just telephoned that he is to be executed in the electric chair next week. VVell, Noblesse Oblige. y I guess you hea1'd about the March of the XVild Wfomen. They wanted us to go to Paris so bad that they wouldn't even let my maid take the paper curlers out of my hair, so I had to go in a boudoir cap. Our chauf- feur, james. drove so fast that we skidded and were all thrown out. Then the mob started shouting something about tl1e baker E ighty-six and his little boy. Then Lafayette and his National Guards drove up in their tanks and fired on the mob with French 7 5's. I guess I have written enough. I want you to be severe in the case of that Duchess, to teach her a lesson. The guillotine has been oiled lately and it doesn't squeak any more. It used to be frightful, so I ordered the head gazaboo to oil it. The knife has been sharpened and it is very efficient now. It was a shame the way they wasted time before. IVell, I guess I will have to con- sole Louis awhile. I-Ie is very inconsolable. Can you beat it? W' ith love, LTARIE ANTOINETTE, The Tnilleries. fQueen of Francej . V Rome, January 2, 62 B. C. My dear Antony: I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines. fThis pen and ink are rotten, so I don't see how I can wade through even a few linesj p As you know, last Tuesday was Christ- mas. To keep the spirit of the day, Cal- phurnia has been spending money right and left these last few days, buying presents, and she is nearly worn out from bargain hunting. She gave me a red and green toga f'Christmas colors, I supposej. I do wish she would think of the color scheme, for, though I am a handsome man, a red toga is not -becoming to red hair! Of course, I said it was beautiful, but I intend to wear it when I have to crawl under the flivver the next time. Little Julius got a pair of ice skates and he insisted upon my showing him how to skate. I am not as graceful as I used to be, but I did pretty well. Once I fell on top of little Julius, but the resulting black eye is better now.

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0. .........--..., .....--.... ...Q-. xnztvxv: . . ....... .:s -: :s::wn1::.:::.::m . ,. .... . santa I --LF ' ' S P3 'fmt -- -f A :::::7:::-::::g.:1zu:::1::::1:'ff 5 ifti.i3'.Q':e:ssffe.,....Q'l17?ig:. He asketh more quest o s without avail. The sunset reilects on his undoing From which the Lunch- Room guest draws a mora : Neglect not your history homework. . At length did pass a fleeting chance To make a ten, thought I. How did the British iight ? asked he, But all I did was sigh. For with the dirk called No-Home-Work I killed the poor, rare teng For history I nearly always shi1'ked- Crammed only now and then. Farewell, farewell, but this I tell, To thee, thou Lunch-Room guest: He maketh good who surely would His history give no rest. He worketh best who sticketh best To history whate'er be tiding, It surely must your grade Hat bust If you will be backslidingf' YEATMAN ADDITION ETHEL KIAE RILLIET-June, 1926 ERMA D1E'r13R1cHs-june, 1926 Robert Jones -1- nothing to do : bawling out. Dorothy Drews 111- a joke : an uproar. Eddie I-Ieilman -1- his homework ': a miracle. Helen Julian -1- an armful of books : an earthquake. Andy Gump -1- Charleston : a prize. Bud VVagner -1- talking : a trip to the office. Inez Green -1- a pencil : a ruined middy collar. Theo. Mertens -1- a pantomime in Public Speaking : riot. Jean Schmidt -1- gym. shoes : the shock of your life. Frank Hueser - a smile : mystery. Mable Meinberg -1- being heard : a celebration. Harold Puls - bruises equals no football game. Ruth Beiderweden - a piece of gum : a lonesome girl. Helen Quest -1- studies : failure. A New Jay -1- a bottle of milk : a Hood. Eightij-five

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