Leominster High School - Magnet Yearbook (Leominster, MA)

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8 THE MAGNET The Week of the Board Exams HE week of the Board exams.—oh, yes, very clearly do you remem- aR ber that endless week of shaking and shivering, which stands out foremost in your mind among the reminiscences of school life. This great event took place in the latter part of June, during some scorch- ing days. It was the thing to which you had been looking forward for a long time, and was the direct cause of a vast amount of plugging and cram- ming in the preceding days and weeks. To those among the number who were taking the finals for entering col- lege, it was exceeding important that they should pass the exams. creditably, while those who were taking the preliminaries were almost equally anxious to have them over and off their minds. At the first examination, which happens to be the dreaded geometry, it is nerve-racking to have to sit quietly in your seat after receiving your number and necessary working materials, and wait for the seconds to drag by until the examination papers should be distributed, and you could really begin work in earnest. You wonder if the exam. will be terribly hard; if the problems will be entirely unheard of; if you will be able to finish it in the allotted time ; and ask yourself thousands of other useless questions. The suspense is indeed awful until you have glanced hurriedly down — the paper, and find that there are one or two questions which do not seems too impossible to you. And then you get busy. There is no time to lose, and you know that you must work hard. You struggle through two, three, four—and soon forget that it is college entrance board exam. and entirely lose yourself in the mazes of geometrical figures and lines. Before you realize it, the proctor gives the ten-minutes warning, and soon the ordeal is over. There is a grand rush from the room, and each begins to talk to his neighbor upon the solution of this or that problem, and to com- pare results. On the next day there is the same trial to go through, except that the newness has worn off, and you do not feel that peculiar trembling about your knees as you enter the room. This time it is Latin and perhaps not quite so hard as youexpected. When the students have survived this, again there is the hurried departure from the room, and loudly-whispered consul- tations inthe hall, until the principal comes out with his ‘word to the wise is sufficient.” Thus the week slips by. Sometimes two, three, or even more exams. come on one day, but every one breathes a great sigh of relief at the end of the week. Of course you are as pessimistic as the others in being sure that you have flunked everything, but you live in high hopes until the reports of the exams. come out a few weeks later. What feelings you experience when you find the long, narrow envelope awaiting you at the post office! You dread opening it, but finally screw up your courage and, with grim determination

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THE MAGNET Into the Land of Memories I stand on the shore of the night wrapped bay And watch the gleaming of waves at play, And the shining stars on high. I watch where the jeweled heavens reach Till they kiss the shores of the sandy beach, Where the dusky shadows lie, While the moon a paling glimmer throws Across the chas m of dark repose. And here, while I sit alone by the sea, A lonely sense steals over me, Like a cloud which threatens storm. And letting the dikes of memory fall, Old dreams rush over me, past recall, Old joys in fantastic form. Adrift I am swept by the roaring tide Into the land where memories hide. And I roam through the kingdoms of long ago Forgetful of Time and its ceaseless woe, For this is enchanted ground. And reveling here in the sunlight of dreams I am dazed by the brightness that flows from its beams And lights up the way all around. No shadows lurk in this wonderful land, No gloom lies over the glistening sand. O why may I not with memories dear Dream my life quite away as I now dream it here, Forgetful of present sorrows? O why are we caught in the drift of the years That change the sweet nectar of pleasure to tears, And hide all our hopes of tomorrows? Back, back, O hoary ocean of Time, Go thou thy way, and let me go mine. HELEN Wooppsury, ’II.

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THE MAGNET 9) break the seal. In your haste and anxiety you almost tear the sheet. What! is it possible? You have passed all except one examination. You are entirely happy, and begin to think that perhaps board exam. week has it joys as well as its sorrows. A Queer Combination A True Story T WAS a hot sultry afternooon in the latter part of August. A perfect I day to sit still and endeavor to keep cool, but such could not be the case with Ruth Phillips, Louise Rich and myself. We had made up our minds to go to make a call, and call we would and must. We were sensible enough, however, to wait until the latter part of the afternoon, when it was a trifle cooler. About four we started out along a shady country road. Not far away we could hear the beat of the great ocean on the rocks; for the road we were traveling ran parallel to the beach. We were tired enough to rest a bit when we had reached the top of Ferry Hill. From here there was a beautiful view; off in the distance was the Miles Standish monument in Duxbury, and in the other direction a vast expanse of ocean, dark and cold, as is always the case, for a few days, after a northeast storm. Finally recovering our breath, we trudged along in the dust of the road until we came in sight of the house; and that large, cool veranda did look good to us! Our hostess, Mrs. Cranford, came out immediately and greeted us most cordially. You can imagine that when she said, ‘‘ You’re tired, every one of you. Won't you have a drink to cool you off ?”’ there was not a negative answer in the three replies. She turned to me then and said, ‘‘ Would you mind helping me a little? Victoria is ironing.” Victoria is an old colored ‘“‘mammy”’ who has lived in the. Cranford family fora long, long time. She was once a slave, when she was quite young. Now she is unable to read and write. Mrs. Cranford arranged a tray ready to be carried to the porch. There were four tumblers, each in its holder, a plate of wafers, and one of cake, besides a dish of Bailey’s. She next brought out a bottle of grape-juice and one of ginger ale. “Fill the glasses about a third full with the grape juice, please,” she said, “and then fill them up with the ginger ale.” I did this, and was about to carry the tray out, when she said, You don't give full measure. I should hate to have you for my grocer. Wait a minute till | get another bottle of ginger ale from Victoria.