| P.H.S. Squeak Newspaper, 1930 |
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| Circulation -- 100 Squ aks. -- Parrsboro, 1930 -- Aim: A Bigger and Better Squeak |
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| EDITORS Marjorie Belding and Jean Sutherland. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE -- 5 Sprugs per annum |
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| FROM THE EDITOR'S SANCTUM The name inscribed above these literary effusions, namely the P.H.S. Squeak, indicates the intention of the editors to provide the wits of the school with a mouthpiece through which they might publicly proclaim the fact that they are wits. In other words, "Humor" is the theme of this publication; humor bright and sparkling; humor 'teasingly salted.' Therefore, O Gentle Readers, know ye that what 'Goblin' is to Canada, 'Life' to the United States, so is the 'Squeak' to Parrsboro High School. Yours for more 'squeaks.' Q.E.D. |
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| FORGIVE US Written here is your history past; Sweet memories are dearer far When no quarrels friendship mar; Please forgive if ought we've done To offend mortal 'neath the sun. |
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| OUR GRADE XI IN 1950 For fifteen years I had been working for a newspaper. Nothing exciting had come my way at all. My job was to gather all the messy items that happened around the city and on several occasions I even stopped to give Dorothy Dix a hand. Then one day I got a break. My boss came into the office and asked me if I should like to take a trip across the continent getting fashion notes. "I have not lived in vain," I said, and ran to pack up. This sudden snap of good luck started me reviewing my past life and that of the old grade XI of 1930. Twenty years ago! Heavens! Was it possible? How they were scattered now! I started my tour by running down to New York. After observing the fashions all day and telegraphing to my newspaper, I decided to have a peep at the Follies. The curtain rose and I disclosed Marje Pettis dancing gamely through the leading part. I asked her if it were not a strenuous life. She kicked off her shoes and said, "My feet's just killing me." I returned by way of Boston and while in that city I entered the office of Dr. McGuirk (she's married now, but still uses her old name). She was just lopping off a patients arm. Dr. McGuirk looked me up and down and then proceeded to lop off the other arm. Then she came forward, pushed her head out of sight and started to stepdance. That made me think of Grade XI. Returning to Canada, I stopped in Montreal and remembered that Lorne Welsh, the clever young scientist, lived there. I went to see Lorne at his office. I scarcely recognized this stout bold man as the Lorne Welsh of 1930. Lorne told me that he wasn't married but I noticed a large silver-framed photo of Marje Pettis on his desk. Going on to Toronto I stopped in to see Daphne Seddall who was married to a professor at the University. I went to the lake and saw Alice Spicer and her husband teaching physical culture in their large and beautiful college. In Winnipeg I met Gertrude Hatfield. She was just taking up a monoplane to test it for the government. A couple of days later near Regina I was nearly run over by Mildred McClary riding a spirited horse wildly across the plains. In Vancouver I met Marion Dyas. She had married a very wealthy tea merchant and was having a grand time. On coming back I learned that I was to sail to Europe. While in Halifax I met Eva Wheaton driving her husband to the bank where he was manager. On the boat whom should I meet but Alma and Louise going over to buy their husbands poor. They looked fine but twenty years had changed them a lot. While in Paris I met Eileen Skidmore, who flippantly remarked that she was over divorcing her second husband. I stopped at Edinburgh University long enough to watch Jean Sutherland cutting up frogs in her biology work. Jean showed me the photos of her deceased husbands. I think there were four of them. Returning to Nova Scotia I remembered that there were two of my old classmates whom I had not seen. They were Aleene Fullerton and Eva Desmond. On my return home I met the latter on the street and had a chat. When in Halifax I stopped before a brick house and rang the bell. I had gone to the back door because I wanted to give Spin a surprise. A tall dark amn opened the door. He looked horribly romantic; his tall frame was clad in an apron and he was engaged in setting the table and frying eggs. "Pardon me," I said, "I've made a mistake. I was looking for Lawyer Fullerton." "I'm her husband," he confided, "Come right in. Poor little Aleene's so busy these days I just have to have her meals ready on time." Just then Spin came bouncing into the kitchen. I considered my fashion tour very successful. --F. Huntley (XI) |
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| BIOGRAPHICAL Aleene-- A nicer girl you cannot find With her nicely balanced legal mind. "Land of work," says Louise the bold, "I shall rest when I grow old!" Frances Huntley-- Ahead of her lies a long career Along with a salary fat. Whatever the career it won't be drear And you may lay to that. A teacher will sweet Alma be, For that's her natural bent, you see. Marie Wheaton-- "And still they gazed and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all she knew." At physical culture Alice excels In swinging around the "dumb-bells." Where, oh where, did Porter go? He's been gone for a month or so. He starts his career by learning to bank We hope it will end by reaching high rank. Marje Pettis-- "Judge not by appearances" oft has been said, Apply this rule when you look at her head. Here comes McGuire always late; The bell has rung sure as fate. |
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| EDUCATION A LA MODE It has just come to light that Parrsboro has night as well as day classes. It seems that the steps of the school houses are occupied as much in the evening as they are during the day. |
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| A TRIBUTE TO OUR TEACHER FROM GRADE XI Our teacher is so lovely and fair, We love her with her wavy hair. We know we shall miss her when she is gone, And her work in Parrsboro Schools is done. But every cloud has a silver lining; Somewhere in the world her light will be shining; Somewhere kiddies will be learning more From the nice person whom we adore. |
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| LIBRARY When you are in the library without the librarians, and take a book from its place, please be sure to put it back on its proper shelf according to its number. If a book be returned on any other day than Friday or Monday please do not put it in the library. Give it to one of the librarians that it may be marked off with the correct date. After having finished reading the magazines kindly place them in a tidy pile. If the above rules are carried out it will be much appreciated by the librarians, Frances Huntley and Daphne Seddall. |
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| THE RURAL CAVALIER Lorne Welch came over the hill From his country home in Fraserville, He came here to attend our school, To learn to the tune of rod and rule. Lorne, the only boy in the class, Mingles with few of the girls, alas! Although on Daphne he has a case, And tries to keep up with the Parrsboro pace. On Sunday nights to the arch he walks Engaged in friendly social talks. You ask, "Oh, does he walk alone?" Why no! He's taking a lassie home. On Friday he is always gay Because at three-thirty on that day, He boards the Bus for over the hill Back to the country of Fraserville. --M. Pettis |
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| PERSONALS Miss Elizabeth McGuirk in keeping up with the latest fads, recently arrived at the Springhill Hospital to have her appendiflucus removed. She plans on completing her convalescence at Bass River. Miss Gertrude Hatfield plans on opening a summer resort for tourists at Frog Hollow this season. Miss Marion Dyas spent a week end recently with her friends at Riverside. Miss M. McClary plans on taking a course in aviation at Moncton next spring. Mr. Lorne Welch will open his new garage this summer on the corner of Pleasant and Main Streets where he will sell free air. There have passed from our struggling ranks two of our esteemed comrades, Messrs. Porter Randall and Kitchener Tracey. The former is now holding a prominent position on the Royal Bank Staff, while the latter is seriously considering a trip across the Atlantic. Parrsboronians were recently 'mildly' excited by the arrival of an airplane. However, we soon cooled off as it remained here only one hour. Not so with the second plane visit, however. The commotion was so great that you can still run into little currents here and there. On closing our eyes we can still feel the thrills. Yes, we were! Ten minutes for the modest sum of five dollars. Fred Spicer and Gerald Repetto have almost finished reading the volumes in the library during the time they have spent there awaiting their teacher's pleasure. |
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| A Scotchman once gave his girl lipstick for Xmas knowing he would get it back again. |
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| TWEET! TWEET! Tweet and Bus sure made a hit, And when he left her she near had a fit. He worked in the bank here and liked it, tis true, But outside of that he liked Elizabeth too. Well, they transplanted Edgar from Parrsboro one day, And sent him to Bass River, though it's not far away. Far away enough says Tweet to us all, And every week end my Edgar shall call. She patiently waits for his letters each night, And receives them as reg'lar as Edgar can write. She reads o-er his pages, each blotched with tearstains, While up in Bass River, poor Edgar remains. There's one thing to do, and we think it quite fair, That Tweet be stenographer in the Commerce Bank there. --M. McClary |
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| THE P.H.S. BASEBALL TEAM Catcher --- F. Hemmeler Pitcher --- F. McGuire 1st Baseman --- A. Farrel 2nd Baseman --- Tarzan 3rd Baseman --- F. Wheaton Short Stop --- F. Spicer Right Field --- K. Atkinson Centre Field --- O. Knowlton Left Field --- Pinkie R. Ready to challenge any team, any time, any place. |
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| The class was having a lesson in Algebra. The master turned to Aleene, noted for the ease with which she wiggles out of tight corners. "What is ratio?" "Ratio," replied Aleene, "Is proportion." "But what is proportion?" "Why, sir, proportion is ratio." "Well, what are ratio and proportion?" "I can only answer one question at a time, sir," replied A., with equanimity. |
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| WHEN THE SQUEAK BECAME A SQUAWK This is the Parrsboro High School Squeak, It's selling oh so very cheap; We'll call around just every week And sell you one that you may keep. If your money is getting scant Buy it on the installment plan-t. If you have a lot to spare Give (missing word) cents and call it square. The editors names are Marje and Jean, But we are all linked up in a team, And we'll get together to make a scheme To enlarge the paper 'till it's fit for a queen. The reporters then will be in a class With some of the best that lived in the past. --Bruce Fullerton (IX) |
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| HISTORY AND OTHER HOWLERS Queen Victoria was the longest queen that ever sat on the throne. Henry VIII hanged them on giblets. Halifax is 45 degrees north of the Creator. "What is your name, sweet Angle?" Ethelred the Unready paid a lot of money to get rid of the 'Dames.' |
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| LIZZIE There is a Lizzie in our town, Her beauty is of great renown; She's courted much by the boys about But there's one she favors without a doubt. When Lizzie in her finest drest Breezes by with Fred in his Sunday best, We feel we are quite of the lower class As we draw aside to let them pass. These two most inseparable travel round In the alleys and byways they often are found. But when Fred in his beauty stops to pet We see we are not in that class yet. These two in harmony have lived thru the years, But yet of late we have had grave fears, That Lizzie, fair Lizzie may sometimes fail: For instance her tire may pick up a nail. J. Sutherland |
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| Mr H.-- "Will some student please give me the formula for water?" A. Sp.-- "H I J K L M O." Mr. H.-- "Where did you find that?" A. Sp.-- "Well, you told us yesterday it was H to O (H2O)." |
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| Joseph was so dumb he thought the American border paid rent. |
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| THAT WILL BE GLORY The school house will now soon be closed, I'll bet that many aren't sorry, But are tossing their hats in knowing that Over lessons they won't have to worry. We've often our lessons neglected, Made trouble and plenty of racket, Worked on the nerves of our teachers, Miss Fullerton and Mr. Hackett. They're both the best of teachers, Faithful, kind and sincere, But really I cannot blame them For not coming back next year. Some pupils will go to college, Less fortunate ones must work, But we'll none of us have the glorious time, When we went to school and our duty shirked. And we'll find life isn't so rosy As the long, long way we tread, That the road isn't smooth and straight But a zig-zag path instead. However, we all hope to meet some day In heaven where hushed is all racket, And there in that calm retreat we'll find Miss Fullerton and Mr. Hackett. E. Ogilvie (X) |
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| "Why is this thus and what is the reason for all this thusness?" |
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| A very exciting debate was witnessed at Parrsboro High School when the subject "Resolve that Government Ownership of Public Utilities has proved more Satisfactory than Private Ownership" was debated by the Grade XI students. Strong arguments were presented by both sides, especially by the negative. Owing to the enthusiasm of the debaters our principal had a most difficult task to keep order. The affirmative debaters were continually being interrupted by their honorable opponents. They insisted on jumping from their seats, pounding on their desks and exclaiming in boisterous voices that the speakers of the affirmative were "all wet." After debating for some time a halt was called, and Mr. Hackett acting as judge, pronounced the affirmative winners. It is commonly thought that he was influenced by the eloquent speech of Mr. Lorne Welch of Fraserville. --Aleene Fullerton |
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| Miss O'Regan-- "What comes to us from Holland?" No answer. "Come now. Dutch... Dutch...." Frank Wheaton-- "Dutch...Cleanser." |
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| Friend (to Daph.)-- "Have you anything in the bank?" Daph.-- "Only confidence." |
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| SHIPMATES All topers love a schooner, Dog fanciers a bark, And barbers choose a clipper, And Noah chose an Ark; For carpenters a dory, For naughty boys a whaler, A galley for a painter, A bumboat for a failer. My negro cook a sampan, My maiden aunt, a cat, A raft for city people Who are living in a flat, And lovers honeymooning Upon a summer sea In smacks and tender legion Will all transported be. --Exchange |
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| LOST-- One rabbit, ears short, tail long, two front teeth missing. Last seen heading for Black Rock. Finder please notify Stuart Tucker and Bruce Fullerton. |
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| Beauty Parlor now open in the rear of the sail loft building. We make a specialty of lifting faces. E. Skidmore, Prop. |
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| SAYS MOTHER HEN Cluck! Speaking of dilemmas I wonder what you'd think If you took your family walking Down to the river's brink. To let them scratch and hunt for worms Close by their mother's side; To hear them give a saucy "Quack." And plunge into the tide. With no attempt to teach me This strange and foreign lore, They stemmed the tide in safety Right to the opposite shore. I cried to them, "You'll drown! Come back!" They only cried again, "Quack, quack." And thus they left their home and mother. They'll never find so good another. --K. Connors (VIII) |
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| The Student's Council under whose patronage this paper is published is composed of the following students: Aleene Fullerton (XI) President Jean Sutherland (XI) Marion Dyas (XI) Alma Embree (XI) Marjorie Belding (X) Frank Wheaton (X) Fred Hemmeler (X) Secretary Althea Hatfield (IX) Fred Spicer (IX) Treasurer |
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| IF YOU READ THIS YOU'LL BE ANOTHER PATIENT A man was one day visiting a lunatic asylum and while walking in the grounds he met a patient to whom he said: "How did you get here?" The man replied: "Well, sir, you see, I married a widow with a grownup daughter, and then my father married my wife's daughter. That made my wife the mother-in-law of her father-in-law, and my father became my step-son. Then my step-mother, the daughter of my wife, had a son, and that boy, of course, was my brother, because he was my father's son; but he was also my wife's step-son, and, therefore, her grandson, and that made me the grandfather of my step-brother. Then my wife had a son, so my mother-in-law, the step-sister of my son, is also his grandmother, because his step-sister is his wife. I am the brother of my own son, who is also the son of my step-grandmother. I am my mother's brother-in-law, my wife is her own child's aunt, my son is my father's nephew, and I am my own grandfather. That's one reason I am here, sir." |
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| Still sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar running; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry vines are running. Within, the master's desk is seen, Deep scarred by raps official; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife's carved initial. The charcoal frescoes on its wall; Its door's worn still, betraying The feet that, creeping slow to school, Went storming out to playing! --John Greenleaf Whittier |
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| "Have you ever noticed how a woman always lowers her voice when asking a favor?" "Yes, and raises it when she doesn't get it." |
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