Mount Notre Dame High School - Mountain Lore Yearbook (Reading, OH)
- Class of 1930
Page 1 of 144
Pages 6 - 7
Pages 10 - 11
Pages 14 - 15
Pages 8 - 9
Pages 12 - 13
Pages 16 - 17
Text from Pages 1 - 144 of the 1930 volume:
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Whevl, dearest, I but think of thee,
Methmks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted.
Most Reverend john T. McNicholas,
O. P., S. T. M.
Right Reverend joseph H. Albers
Msgr. Frank A. Thill
Msgr. Urban Vehr
Msgr. Henry Waldhaus
Reverend Hubert A. Brockman, SJ.
Dr. and Mrs. E. Blair
Mrs. A. W. Burton
Miss Constance Carr
Mr. C. Scheawer
Mr. and Mrs. B. C. Chenal
Mr. Peter Cosgrove
Mr. and Mrs. Ivo Depenbrock
Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Dorger
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Droppelman
Mr. and Mrs. J. C. Fanger
T. J. Farrell
Mr. and Mrs.
Mrs. George E. Fern
Mrs. A. Foss
Mr. and Mrs. E. A. Foss
Miss Cecilia Gannon
Dr. j. S. Geen
Miss Catherine Hess
Miss Genevieve Higi
Miss Dorothy Hirn
Mrs. Mary Jones
Miss Jeannette Kasper
Reverend Richard Cartwright, C.S.P
Reverend Erasmus Gangler, C.P.P.S.
Reverend J. Volk
Reverend Charles Wiederhold
Mr. Clement J. Barnhorn
Mrs. "Ethel Barrymore" Colt
Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Norris
Miss R. M. Koellsch
Mr. and Mrs. Harold Krell
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Kunkel
Mr. R. Mallenkaph
Miss Marie Matthews
Miss Lydia Miller
Mrs. Rose Moormann
Miss Mary Mossett
Mr. and Mrs. john Mueller
Mr. and Mrs. E. W. Muth
Mrs. A. D. Newland
Mr. D. J. O'Brien
Mrs. B. T. Palmer
Mr. and Mrs. P. Prato
Mr. and Mrs. Harry Runda
Mrs. Stella Schlaudecker
Mr. and Mrs. joseph B. Verkamp
Mr. and Mrs. E. T. Weakley
Mr. and Mrs. F. J. Wenstrup
Mrs. Natalie West
Mr. and Mrs. Ira Wyant
and Mrs. J. L. Kennedy
VOLUME NUMBER FIVE
THE GRADUATING CLASS
MOUNT NOTRE DAME
READING f OHIO
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Some day you will he old
And hunger for lost youth,
With all its wild desire
And constant quest for truth.
Grown ey and satisfied, 1 ' 1'
You willrremember when 1 A
You challenged life, and thought X All
You could outstrip all meq. W
.This book will lead you ba-lck
Through Time's mad, muddled IIIBZB,
To all the old delights 1 1
0f those glad, wondrous days, '
When you were very yourlg,
And met life withsurprisd, '
With courage in your heart
And wonder-gleaming eyed. '-
, l xv.
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To Our Directress
Sister Margaret Aloysius
There is no gift that we can give to you,
No full expression of our gratitude,
Beside our love the finest Words sound crude'
There is no song or poem, old or new,
That can convey the message we would send.
We need the lyric lightness of a stream,
A height of vision, depth of mystic dream,
And all the grace and beauty God can lend.
These gifts have been withheld, so Mountain Lore
Essays to tell you what We cannot sayi
The fond affection of our hearts, much more
Than gratitude alone, we know no way
Save this: to sing as Dante would have sung,
Had genius been denied his facile tongue.
A A 16
With sentiments of sincere gratitude, the
staff of the NineteenfThirty MOUNTAIN LORB
acknowledges the countless favors bestowed
upon the student body by Sister Mary Saint
During her eight years at The Mountain
she rendered us the gracious services of mother,
guide, and friend. The memory of her genial
manner and of the unfailing interest shown
in each pupil delights us in reminiscence.
Our appreciation will jind voice in the prayer
that God will bless her career with success and
her days with the joy of graces hitherto un'
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Flying riderless through the sky,
Let your image be before me,
Let the beat of your hoofs be ringing in my ear
Lend me your wings,
Let me mount you.
Symbol of flight,
Let me, too, be a symbol.
Let me never forget
"Ad astra per asperaf'
God, let our lives be constant quest,
Like Artaban's, who saw a star by nightg
Let us strive on against earth's mystic might,
Yet not refuse to fill a heart's request.
Let us have faith like that believing crew,
Who, heedless of the elements that warred,
Crossed the wild Flemish waters with their Lord
Grant us their simple faith and trust in You.
God, let our lives be an unceasing flight
Through myriad mazes of oncoming yearsg
Our eyes be fixed beyond all earthly sight,
Our vision dimmed by soulfdeep, holy tears.
God, let us ever seek, but never find.
Temper us, Lord, according to Your Mind.
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Cloudy skies first, 'rainbows after.
Her Irish wit and Irish laughter
Play a deep and pulsing part
On the keystrings of each heart.
She can smile and make all glad,
She can sigh and make all sad.
In gold alone can the worth be weighed
Of a cheery friend like this merry maid
If you see a girl like Peter Pan
Wearing uniform of tan,
Tripping the light fantastic toe
In a place she shouldn't, you may know
It isn't Peter Pan at all.
It's Gertrude dancing in the hall
With measured step and irnpish smile.
'They're very few she can't beguile.
'Though "jones" is classed as a common name
Aileen will rise to uncommon fame,
For like Orphan Annie through weal and woe,
She keeps a bright face, so none can know
Whether behind the blue of her eyes
Is hidden the hue of darker skies.
The Lord no greater gift can send
Than to have that girl, Aileen, for friend.
MARY MARGARET MCGU IRE
A hard, hard head and a warm, warm heart,
A taste for both, the sweet and tart.
Well balanced as a girl should be,
Her eyes have trained themselves to see
Reality and its true worth
Compared with other things of earth.
Her wit, her sense, and love conspire
To 'make her near the soul's desire.
Though the're's a complex in her talk
Determinatiorfs in her walk.
She decides a thing, then sees it through
And oh, I pity me and you
If we should get across her way
When she is in a rush some day.
Still, all in all, she's very good.
More would be like her, if they could.
Sensitive to a degree
Not understood by you or me,
Glad to help a friend who needs
Kind words to heal a heart that bleeds
Looking out through soft blue eyes
With a vague but strong surmise
That all of life must be as fair,
As is her own sweet, lovely share.
Brown sparkling eyes, a wistful smile,
Which all unwittingly beguile,
Reveal rare traits in this coy maid
For whom, it seems, the world was made
For howsoever sad her plight,
Somehow she will come out all right,
And leave behind the bold impress
Of what she did to win success.
Long ago when girls had tresses
And wore wide, fullfskirted dresses,
Alice might have been a queen
With a truly regal mien.
Instead she is more up to dateg
She is a royal sophisticate,
Who meets the world with manly eyes
Beneath a lady's meek disguise.
In all she does she's quite at ease.
She seldom fails to win and please
Because she has a happy way
Of always knowing what to sayg
Or else she listens with such grace
That animation's in her face.
Charm and gentility innate
Have blessed this favored graduate.
The Graduates as Babies
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STANDINGg'GTdCC Higi, Margaret Mary janszeri, Mary Ellen Barrett, Ruth Newland,
Dorothy Tapke, Frances Bludau, jean Striker, Mary Staunton, Martha Sanders, Augusta
Bludau, Catherine Schmidt, Virginia Rath, Lucinda Blair, Audrey Fernandez.
SEA'rEnfCatliarine Fath, Betty Hollenkarnp, Gertrude vor dem Esche, Mary Louise Pater.
CATHERINE Scmvnor .... .,............ ......,. P r esident
MARY ELLEN BARRETT ...., ...... T.,. V i cefPresident
BETTY HOLLENKAMP ..... . ...,. Secretary
CATHARINE FATH .... .,..........,.......,.... . . . Treasurer
Their prowess in athletics
Is famed and undeniedg
And all the other classes
Have very often sighed,
Because they are despairing
Of emulating them
Whose bright, unchallenged crown of sport
Is not their only gem.
They're glad and willing workers
Not only in the gym,
For they bring to the classroom
Their energetic vim.
They're really edifying,
In them We all can see
A fitting inspiration
For folks like you and me.
lu C I
TOP Rowflietty Rielag, Dorothy Rielag, Muriel Prato, Grace Engel, Mildred Ball.
BOTTOM Row--jean Fanger, Fern Cameron, Mary Clujford, Helen Krell, jean Wiigncr,
Annie B. McGuire, Irene Cowen.
DOROTHY RIELAG ....
IRENB Cowen. . ,
JEAN WAGNBR ,...
BETTY RIELAG. . .
Good winners, good losers,
What more can you ask
Than their fullfhearted courage
For every new task?
They Welcome each morning
They welcome each night
With the optimist's thought
That the World is all right.
And if by some cog
Of the stern wheel of fate,
A joy is denied them
Gr gets here too late,
They do not complain
But go on their glad way
Thinking happiness trebled
Will greet them next day.
. . . . .President
. , . . . . .Secretary
. . A .Treasurer
Margaret Glorius, Anna Bohrer, Mary Frances Baggott, Marie Fritsch, Mary Catherine
Streuber, Ruth Imwalle, janet Klinger, Lucille Wagner, Susie Mae Mullen, Grace Chenal,
Louise Rath, Catherine Millitzer, Ethel Chenal, Loretta Farrell.
I Ninth Year
RUTH MARIE IMWALLB .... .........., .4., P 1 esident
CATHERINE MILLITZER. . . .,.. Secretary
ETHEL CHENAL ...... . ,Treasurer
Not quite so Wise as some of us, In spite of this they labored on.
Not quite so selffassured, The epithet of "green"
There are a few unpleasantries Was just another little thing
These Freshmen have endured. They thought was rather mean.
The high school world was new to them, The Latin and the algebra
It put them in the shade, Were frightful demons, toog
When they were used to limelight, But they, undaunted, solved each task
As the highest grammar grade. That we gave them to do.
They fought well and they conquered.
Nobody could do more,
And so We pay them tribute
In this, our 'ilviountain Lore."
Anna May Sanders, Virginia jane Blake, Thelma Heuer, Mary Louise Meiser, Mary jane
Buzzard, Agnes Clifford, Augusta Tegeder, Dorothy Glaser, janet Louis, Betty Pexton, Sylvia
Fricke, Jeannette Meyer.
Seventh and Eighth Years
VIRGINIA JANE BLAKE ...,. ............ ...,.., P r esident
JEANNBTTE MEYER ..., VicefPresident
AUGUSTA TEGEDEE. . . .,.. Secretary
. . . .Treasurer
AGNES CLIFFORD ....
Their pep is inexhaustible,
Their spirit is like steel.
They have an earnest liking
For everything that's real.
The realms of speculative thought
Cause them no aches or pains.
The visible, objective world
Quite satisfies their brains.
So unheset by complexes
And deep psychology,
They are as good and happy
As any one can he.
George Clifford, Mary Louise Heilker, Phyllis Meyer, Mary Agnes Stagge, Susan Schultz
Phoebe Liebman, Ellen Virginia McGuire, Elizabeth Bohrer, Mary Alice Rath, jack Feclq
Fifth and Sixth Years
Their A B C's and first grade primers
Long since were put away,
And we have made much bigger mountains
For them to climb each day.
Beset their youthful brainsg
But conquerors, they carry off
The hardffought battle's gains.
,fThey're not afraid of anything
That lies within a bookg
And when we see how wise they are,
Our envy's hard to brook.
if Y. .- W. -.. -- 1. -
BACK Row-Helen Vonclran, Mary Evelyn Greinev, Marian Russell, james Stagge. Wilma
Tegedef, Lorena Vondran, Ethel Gardner, Dorothy Ams.
MIDDLE Row-William Feck, Audrey Heliman, Marian Fanger, Kathleen McG14ive, jane
Overbeclq, james Feck.
FRONT Row-Nicholas Stagge, Charles Vondmn.
First to Fifth Years
Far away, far away
Over the hills,
A green valley lies
Between two rippling rills.
There in the Neverland,
There in the wildwood
ls the kingdom and playground
Of fast fleeting childhood.
The children still live
In the land of blue skies,
Where flowers and fairies
Are Pan's sweet disguise.
Too soon they will leave it,
Too soon they will be
just everyday mortals
Like poor you and me.
The Mount Notre Dame
MRS. FRANK KUNKEL ,..e ,...,,.......... .,......, P 1 esidem
Miss MARY MOSSET .,.... e...,.,...,. .,... V i C6'P'fCSid6TlI
Miss MARGARET GERDES. . . ,.,... Secretary
MRS. LEO OEERSCHMIDT. ....,.......,., ,.... T 'reasurer
MRS. FREDERICK HINKLE Miss EMILY DROEGE
MRS. STELLA SCHLAUDEKER Miss MARY CATHERINE MEAGHER
Miss LORETTA QUILL
Gladly do we pay a passing tribute to the Mt. Notre Dame Alumnae
Association, the oldest of our organizations, dating back to the last decade
of the last century. On its roster may be found the names of more than two
hundred active members, scattered over nearly every State of the Union,
maids and matrons whom our Alma Mater is proud to claim as her worthy
and devoted Alumnae. Many substantial proofs of their generosity and
loyalty may be seen at The Mountain, especially in our beautiful, devotion'
One of the most enjoyable functions of the year is the Annual Alumnae
Reunion, held about a week before the close of school, when former teachers
and companions meet to renew old friendships and associations, for as
Oliver Wendell Holmes says:
There is no friend like the old friend
Who shared our morning days,
No greeting like his welcome,
No homage like his praise.
Fame is the scentless sunflower
With gaudy crown of gold,
But friendship is the breathing rose
With sweets in every fold.
Iam sitting here dreaming, between bursts of excitement. My dreaming
time is limited-bounded on the north, south, east, and west by the voices
of children. Therefore, I must make the most of it.
These spring days always bring back memories, increasingly tender,
of The Mountain. Ican recall, when, as a student there, sunshine and balmy
days meant distraction and lassitude. The most sluggish mathematical
mind could then be relied upon to ngure accurately in minutes and seconds
the length of time until the "finals" and vacation. Oh, Youth so happy
and so unappreciative of itself! We really do not feel much older with
each passing year, and we are not. But it is a decided shock to look in upon
the mind of the high school student today when she meets one of my vinf
tage. We are indexed and filed away as "old girls." The student's youth
is eternal. So is my own Cresentfullyj. How and where shall we reconcile
them? I shall tell you, for the benefit of all old sentimentalists, like myself,
although the realization of this "dream," for me, is impossible.
We must go back to The Mountain. Leave all cares and entanglements
behind, and wander through those halls, down those avenues, whisper a
prayer at each shrine, sleep within those quiet walls and forget the eventful
years. In other words let us take a mental bath at the fountain of youth ! And
this fountain is no mythical one! You young sentimentalists, living there
in sheltered seclusion, heed me! Take deep draughts daily from that founf
tain, so that, when you dream, years hence, the exhilaration of your early
influences may be magically lasting.
So overwhelming is my present illusion, that even the voices of my
children, as I sit here, are dim and distant, and the cares of my household
are lighter. I can see that spring has come to The Mountain, the orchard
is a sea of feathery blossoms. I can hear the organ playing for the Sisters'
evening devotions. The small children are taking a last frolic before bed'
time. The seniors stroll by with conscious dignity. I can see at the foot of
the hill, the village-gateway to the world. Now, what is that commotion?
-It is the hum of existence breaking in upon me. My children, all six
of them, have decided that right here beside me is the only good place to
play. Leaving sunshine, the blue waters, the wide lawn, and their most
treasured playthings, they have come to find me. This is real. This is the fulf
tillment of unnamed hopes, and I pinch myself to make sure I am not
dreaming. A suggestion as to the best color to paint his boat, quiets Mike,
next I must straighten Mary jo's hair, then pull up a stocking for Emma
Jean, find a piece of gum for Ira, jr., kiss a hurt finger for jane, and squeeze
the baby, Gregory, just once to ease my aching fingers. These pleasures,
or sofcalled duties, are mine daily in multiplied variety.
Dear Editor, I have inscribed a sermon, forgive me! My thoughts and
desires have become confused on paper. My wishes are, obviously, to be
forever a part of your youth by subscribing to the Mountain Annual and
living again in its pages.
Best wishes to all our good friends.
EMMA BROWNB WYANT, Class of 1917
Dear Editor: Westmount, Quebec, Canada
This letter is begun with a proper and becoming hesitation in due
respect to my many Mountain friends who will quickly question how
time is found for letters to editors, when they are sorely neglected. But
Sisters and girls of The Mount and classmates of '17 in particular, it is
because away up here in Canada my thoughts turn to you so often in loving
reminiscence of past good times, and in happy reflection of your present
absorption in home life and various careers, that I cannot pass by this
splendid opportunity of greeting you through this open letter to the Editor.
Here and now receive my message of love and good wishes and be lenient
with "the world's worst correspondent."
As I write, the endless parade of Sherbrooke Boulevard, Westmount,
Canada, passes in gala revue, mothers and nurses with baby carriages,
children coming home from school, older students on their way to college, an
endless succession of cars with ladies bent on social calls, elderly people
out for nature's cure, and doctors and business men set on their business
of the day. "Philosophically speaking"4my classmates will remember
my old trend in this line-- this boulevard procession is typical of the way
the events of life are paraded through in almost martial sequence and reveal,
when viewed objectively in later life, a startling unity that exemplifies the
meaning of the philosophic phrase "pattern of life."
For instance, dear Editor, there can be no doubt that when a mere
child at The Mountain, I firmly maintained before my dear deceased aunt,
Sister Julia Adelaide, and Sister Agnes Louise, that, "I was going to Trinity
when I grew up," that I unconsciously, yet none the less really, decided
my whole future fate. Trinity College opened the gate to my five years'
career with the National Conference of Catholic Charities, and later two
years with the local Catholic Charities, and yes, to my real, lasting career,
-wedded lifef for "ours" was a college romance, and back in '21 you
will find in the Trinilogue that it is a "long lane" that has no turning.
To be sure everything has its humorous details and you may be interested
to know that the brief bag, which once carried weighty social work books
and reports, has served the humble but important function of carrying the
baby's bottles and small paraphernalia on trips to her grandparents in
Cincinnati and Boston.
Now girls, have you not found that your life has swung on in this
fashion to a definite pattern? Of course, most of you took the matrimonial
step ahead of me, and can boast more darlings. We brag of our nineteen
class babies in all, Babe Overman Moser-four, Emma Brown Wyant-
four, Clara Marie Dittgen Oberschmidt-two, Marguerite Hess Dorger-
flve, Katherine McCurran Walsh-three, and yours truly-one. Lillian
Schooler has recently joined the married ranks, while Marguerite Sullivan
and Edith johnson continue in their role of bachelor maids.
Dear Editor, it is well known that the class of '17 was one of the hapf
piest and most united classes, and we have always striven to be loyal and
helpful to The Mount that gave us such a firm foundation and preparation
To the Class of 1930, I extend congratulations and the wish that all
your fondest dreams and aspirations may be realized. Pitch your ambitions
as high as the skies, and you will make a worthwhile mark in life. Receive
also an international message of goodfwill from this large Dominion of the
north to the dear United States, and an earnest invitation to visit us in
our Canadian home from a devoted exfpupil of The Mount, and a possible
prospective pupil, Rose Marie, Jr.
Ross MARIE MOORMANN LANE, 1917
elf Pls Dk
Dear Class of '3O:
It was not until I received your gracious invitation to contribute a
letter that I fully realized that '25's Wooden Anniversary is at hand.
Somehow, anniversaries have always seemed to me important occasions
reserved for others, which we joyfully help celebrate, but never really
associate with ourselves. It is rather startling then to discover that such
an important event as an anniversary has actually happened to us-that we
of '25 have passed the line that distinguishes reminiscence from antici'
pation, and are actually celebrating a Wooden Jubilee.
That the last Eve years have passed so quickly for me, I attribute to
their pleasantness and happiness. Four of them were spent at Trinity, and
were truly ideal. Trinity surpassed all the glowing accounts I had ever
heard about her, and so the general rule that anticipation is greater than
realization, did not hold in this case. The friendships formed there, the
kindness and helpful comradely spirit of devoted Sisters and famed Doc'
tors, the inspirational atmosphere of the majestic Chapel, the classes themf
selves, the delightful social life-Washington itself-these are all living,
There is no wish that I could more sincerely extend for your happiness
than that you spend your college days at Trinity. To prove my sincerity,
I would love to join those of you who will be fortunate enough to swell
the Freshman Class of Gold and White next year.
Returning to Cincinnati, after those four glorious years, the baffling
query, fluid mmc, a common epidemic with college maids, newly made
"Bachelors" Cthat is of art, if you pleasej, did not entirely escape me.
However, it was soon resolved by my decision to do graduate work in
English at the University, where the firmly ingrained principles of ref
ligion imprinted at Reading, and further impressed at Trinity, have been
more than sufiicient foundation for the confutation of any skeptical "isms"
or "ologies" that might at any time be discussed.
Here at the University, I was delighted to find a smiling countenance,
a familiar voice, and Catherine Kilcoyne, herself, one of the cheeriest
members of our famous class of '25. Catherine is taking her AB at the
University this summer.
Sauntering into James' Book Store, I discovered amidst the learned
tomes another familiar face-Clara Ranly, who disseminates knowledge
with every book. Agnes, too, is engaged in commercial pursuits, as are
also Mary Elizabeth Clements, Catherine Reising, and Marcella Hof.
Mary Elizabeth may be seen daily speeding to and from Lawrenceburg,
Indiana, where her business activities call her.
Mary Edith Newton and Virginia Barry represent us in the educaf
tional field. Mary Edith has proved a success with her class in Wyoming,
and Virginia Barry has captivated the hearts of her adoring adolescents
in St. Elizabeth School, Norwood.
It is our other Virginia, who, fairly on her way to "Bachelordom,"
first at the University, and later at Trinity, suddenly decided in favor of
wedded bliss, and we accordingly may extend our felicitations and good
wishes to her as Mrs. joseph Meyer.
Looking over these brief accounts, it would appear that Aeneas misf
judged us when he whispered our futures into the ear of our class prophf
etess five years ago. But perhaps we must allow more time before we
can fairly pass judgment upon his powers as a seer.
Speaking of Aeneas reminds me that we are celebrating our jubilee
with one who is celebrating his bifmillenium, one whom we grew to know,
love, and appreciate through Sister Agnes Louise's fervent enthusiasm.
Virgil's spirit has never ceased to haunt me. In fact, it gave me no peace
until it had guided me safely through the last six books of his hero's
adventures. I can vividly recall those neverftofbefforgotten Virgil classes,
which were not to be disturbed, no, mivabile dictu, not even by inf
But alas, any further reminiscing may, I fear, prove our senility and
even warrant such a certain sign of antiquity as an anniversary. But never
mind. We of the class of "the ten foolish Virgins" will reminisce to our
hearts' content when we assemble in june.
Needless to say, I am looking forward eagerly to that reunion, and to
meeting you, Class of '30, as well as to renewing the friendships of older
HILDA MooRMANN, Class of 1925
Wilt Thou Not Watch?
ARY ELLEN wept. Indeed,'she sobbed wildly, and to Susan
' 5 r and me looking on sympathetically she appeared in the fascinat
eip, ing light of a luckless victim caught in the relentless coils of a
M relentless fate. But, Mary Ellen, whose chief delight on other
occasions was to assume the role of tragic heroine, seemed at present strange'
ly uninterested in luckless victims. Indeed, for that matter, she seemed
strangely uninterested in everything. Certainly, she did not care that the
end of her small nose was most unbecomingly shiny and red-Mary Ellen
sniflled as she made this reflection-nor that her eyes had become quite
uncomely with continued weeping. Furthermore, she did not even care
that today was Holy Thursday and a halffholiday at St. Anne School, for
had she not covered her small soul with black guilt? At the recollection
of this calamity, fresh fountains of tears welled up in Mary Ellen's eyes and
coursed unrestrained down her hot cheeks. Sometimes, they trickled down
onto her best Sunday pinafore, and at regular intervals she absently brushed
them away with a grimy fist, leaving great smudges of dirt upon her unf
imposing little front.
Mary Ellen was a slip of a child. Her nose was not tipftilted, and she
had no winsome dimple cleft in her chin. On the contrary, though she was
exceedingly fragile, the utter plainness of her suggested a sort of Trojan
sturdiness. She was one of those unfortunate children who is constantly
in hot water. Mary Ellen was doubly dear to Susan and myself, so after
some minutes of persistent questioning we finally elicited from her a tearf
ful account of her present difficulty, the result, it seemed, of an escapade
of the previous evening.
Mary Ellen had a stupendous imagination. Her fondness for the un'
canny and the ethereal was positively astonishing. On more than one ocf
casion she had been known to startle the little girls quite out of counf
tenance by the weird tales which she invented about certain ghosts which,
she declared, hid in the greenhouse behind the chapel. It must be here
observed that Mary Ellen was not a little girl. She was a seventh grader,
and she occupied her lofty position with Etting dignity, a circumstance
which added considerable solemnity and awe to her words. Upon the pref
vious evening, her ingenuity had led her to substantiate one of her thrilling
tales by producing the horrible evidence. She had cleverly cut a small,
white pastefboard box, through which she inserted the largest finger of
her right hand. This finger she sprinkled copiously with red ink, and
surrounded the whole affair with a generous supply of cotton. The result
was gruesome. The horrible thing struck cold terror into the hearts of all
who beheld it. Mary Ellen was in her glory, when suddenly, without a
sound, little Priscilla Cartwright, a pale child afflicted with a weak heart,
crumpled up into a limp little heap upon the floor. Pandemonium reigned.
Sister Patricia hurrying to the scene, gently lifted the little girl and removed
her to the infirmary. There was no more recreation that night. When Sister
Patricia returned, she quietly marshalled twenty crestfallen, scared little
girls up the long flight of stairs to the dormitory. All night long, Mary
Ellen quaked with fear, as she conjured up visions of small, widefeyed
Priscilla Cartwright being borne away in a black car like the one they had
used at her grandmama's funeral. When she said her prayers that night,
Mary Ellen prayed hard that tomorrow would not come. But tomorrow
did come, and with it came a summons for Mary Ellen to appear in the
oflice of the Sister Directress. Cf course, Mary Ellen had answered the
summons, hesitatingly and with trembling knees, for although she had
learned from Sister Ignatius that Priscilla was quite all right, still she
feared for the consequences of her grave misdemeanor.
Timidly, Mary Ellen knocked at the door of Sister Directress. Gravely, she
entered, and seated herself when bidden to do so. Sister Directress sat on
one side of the room, Mary Ellen sat on the other. Sister Directress looked
sternly at Mary Ellen, but Mary Ellen did not look at Sister Directress,
she looked diligently at the figure of a Little Bo Peep, embroidered in the
corner of her small cambric kerchief. Sister first told Mary Ellen that she
was a very naughty child. She asked her what her mother would think if
she knew what had happened, and when Mary Ellen hazarded no reply to
this query, she then inquired what Mary Ellen's father, brother, and sister,
each in turn would think. Mary Ellen pondered these questions intently
for a moment, but could not reach a satisfactory conclusion. Sister then
scolded Mary Ellen severely, and Mary Ellen sat humbly on her chair at
the other side of the room and listened contritely.
Before dismissing her, Sister Directress brought forth a large bottle of
Lourdes water, and, taking a little on the end of her thumb, gravely
blessed her with it. It was at this moment that Mary Ellen realized the full
import of her wickedness, and her hardened heart melted within her. She
wept. Nor could the contemplation of a halffholiday, or even the satisf
faction of being considered a tragic heroine by Susan and me, in any way
abate her grief.
"Well," observed Susan, the philosophical, "you can't sit here crying
all the rest of your life."
I nodded acquiescence to this sage bit of advice, but Mary Ellen looked
dubious. Why couldn't she? Indeed, if she did, she might hope in time to
expiate her black iniquities by her tears, even as did the great St. Peter.
For several minutes she contemplated this course in silence. Then she ref
jected it. Mary Ellen decided that tears were not her part. Expiation surely
she would make, but it must be a swift and certain expiation. She comf
municated her high resolve to Susan and me, and together we began
casting about for some course by which Mary Ellen might make due
atonement for her misdeeds, and so regain the hope of her eternal salvation.
For some time we sat in silent reflection. Susan, her thick mop of black
curls tumbling riotously down her small back, planted two sturdy brown
hands into the soft earth and gazed steadily ahead, thinking. Mary Ellen
drew triangles on the ground with a small forked twig and sniffled faintly
from time to time. As for me, I lay back contentedly and munched little green
flags of April grass. Now and again, the distant jangle of the iron rings
against the Maypole jarred noisily upon the stillness. And there in the
calm of that April afternoon, the daring plan took birth in the brain of
Mary Ellen. It was by far superior to her original intention of emulating
the repentant apostle. Indeed, where Peter had failed, there would Mary
Ellen triumph, for she had fully determined to keep the vigil of Good
Friday, the very one which had proved too much for the impetuous Simon
long ago in Gethsemane.
Plans for the undertaking proceeded rapidly. Candles we must have,
and the omniscient Mary Ellen knew where to get them, for only yesterf
day she had carried a box of them to the chemical laboratory for Sister
Gertrude. The chemical laboratory was an isolated sanctum, a sort of
Holy of Holies, and Mary Ellen recalled with what awe she had entered
its sacred precincts on the previous day. Dare she venture there alone?
Mary Ellen was a fortitudinous little person, and once having made a def
cision, she allowed no difficulty, however insurmountable, to bar her way
to its accomplishment. So off we scampered, all three of us, to procure the
necessary candles before the bell should ring for Benediction.
The lights had been extinguished in St. Joseph dormitory some twenty'
five minutes. Mary Ellen tossed restlessly in bed, and reflected that it
must be nearly twelve o'clock. Sister Josepha had retired. Mary Ellen was
certain of this, for she had heard the faint jingle of the beads a very long
time ago. Softly she rose and tiptoed quietly to Susan's alcove. Susan had
been created guardian of the candles, and armed with these, she followed
Mary Ellen down the long row of whitefcurtained beds to where I slept.
I had drowsed off into a kind of half wakefulness, and the unusual apparif
tion of the two small kimonoed figures startled me, but I soon managed to
collect my wits, and together we filed quietly out of the dormitory and
down the hall to the locked room where we had planned to keep the vigil.
Having advanced thus far without mishap, we hastily lit our candles and
proceeded with despatch to the recitation of the rosary, for we were
anxious to conclude the ceremony as quickly as possible. We had reached
the third decade, Mary Ellen leading in a low whisper, and Susan and I
answering in equally gentle responses. She would expiate her crime to the
full. Firmly she continued intoning the "Aves" and meekly Susan and I
responded. At last Mary Ellen reached the final "Gloria Patria," and her
soul was washed of its guilt, when suddenly, without the usual warning
of jingling beads, Sister Josepha burst in upon us. In short, peremptory
tones she ordered us back to our beds. Susan led the way. I followed her
and Mary Ellen brought up the rear of the woeful little procession. Mary
Ellen spent that night, as she had spent the preceding one, quaking with
fear. Indeed, she spent a great many nights quaking with fear.
Good Friday came and passed with no mention of the vigil from headf
quarters. Holy Saturday came and passed, too, but still no summons to
the office of the Directress. Furthermore, Sister josepha, in stern tones,
closely questioned us concerning the candles, whereupon they mysteriously
reappeared in the chemical laboratory. On Easter Sunday morning three
prim girls in their best blue pinafores knelt in the chapel at St. Anne
School and poured forth their flaming souls in a paean of thanksgiving and
praise, for Mary Ellen dwelt again in the realms of sanctifying grace.
Sister josepha has grown quite old. She spends her time darning
stockings and worn little everyday pinafores, they tell me, but never
Easter goes by that she does not receive three bulging, closely written
packets, signed respectively, Mary Ellen, Susan, and Anne.
ROSEMARY COWEN, 1929
On March first the lilac rows, long traditional at The Mountain were
They have taken the lilac bushes away,
They will not bloom any more,
Or greet our eyes all beauty starved
Aslant the postern door.
The ground that held their tender roots,
Will soon bring forth new grass,
But I shall miss the lilacs.
I'll remember when I pass,
How once they used to bloom here,
So fragrant and so fair,
I blessed God for the loveliness
Which He had planted there.
I looked at them and loved Him.
I shall miss them every day.
Oh, can't somebody tell me
Why the lilacs went away?
GRETCHEN NARDINB, 1930
I like to think of religion as a kind mother whose warm breast embosoms
the orphans of the soul. To those whom the world has bruised she offers
the easing balm of God's grace and love. To those whom life has benumbed,
she offers the sparkling waters of eternity. In the hour of tribulation her
hands shut tired eyelids and usher in that happy oblivion where sorrow
is but a delusion of the halffawake.
She descends to the lowest valleys where few men walk. Furtively she
follows her lost children through the wilderness. She calls to them. Some
return to the shelter of her arms. Others pass on.
Over the highest mountain tops, where some have climbed, but none
remained, she sheds her light. Transcending all, she marks the place
where each has stood and then goes down.
Under humble roofs she has gathered her children, and to them she ref
tires when her soul is weary. At the locked doors of palaces she beats
with her firm, incessant hand.
Gently she touches the wingless souls who essayed to fly. Softly she
gathers last year's faded roses and withered leaves. None have sunk too
low for her to stoop to pick.
When men are glad, she rejoices. At feasts she is the merriest guest.
For those who are sad she carries comfortg for those who have sinned,
she brings forgiveness.
To the lonely souls she offers consolation. She, too, has traveled the unf
frequented way. She, too, is one apart.
Her shoes are muddy. She has trod through the mire of ages. The hem
of her garment is as dark as night. But her eyes are turned towards a golden
future. Her hands are white as freshffallen snow. Her eyes inspire, her
Gretchen Nardine, 1930
NORMA MEYER ..... ......,......... P resident
LORETTA Coscnovn ....
AILBBN JONES .....
VIRGINIA MILLITZBR .......
In the days of old
When knights were bold
And wore ladies' sleeves
on their arm
They went forth to fight,
To die, if they might,
To keep their religion from harm
No knights are we,
As you can see,
But in our Way we try-
By selling candy,
By being handy-
Not going out to die.
And once a week
Our purses speak-
We give a mission mite
To help Chinese
And teach them what is
That is not all,
For in our hall
We have a picturefshowg
And here we see
The mission glee,
So that we surely know
just what is meant
By every cent
We send so far away,
To help poor souls
Escape sin's shoals
And leam the Christian way.
WWW 1?-'1?"1"l"I' F ' ry-f , 1
Blessed Virgin Sodality
L'Our tainted nature's solitary boast."
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE. . ...,....... ...A..... P 'resident
VIRGINIA MILLITZER ....... .... V iccfPresident
AILEEN JONES ....... ,..,... S ecretary
LILLIAN RUNDA ..... I , . .Treasurer
Lord, give me Words to sing your Mother's praise,
And let them rise melodic to her ears,
A dulcet consolation for the tears
That bathed her face those lone, long earthly days.
Let me sing like the angel, Israfel,
My pulsing heart, a harmonizing lute,
Till Heaven's court enraptured will stand mute
To heed the World's devotion I shall tell.
O Mother of so sweet a Son, I ask
In vain. I learn the stark futility
Of Words. My misty eyes see Calvary
And all the mad and panoramic masque,
Beginning of the end-AMan deified.
The consummation, this, God crucified.
Sacred Heart League
"Bright things on earth are but the emanations
Of Thy transcendent beauty from on high."
NORMA MEYER ..,.....
GBRTRUDB Gnnwn ........
GRETCHBN NARDINE ........
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRB.
Let us sing
Christ the King,
King of Heaven,
King of Earth,
Who redeemed us
By His birth.
He was humble,
Meek and mild
W'hen He was
A little Child,
So His people
Knew Him not.
He Whom God
In Heav'n begot,
. . . . . .VicefP'resident
He Who came
To us to give
His life that all
The world ,might live,
Found no place
To rest His Head
He was dead.
Let us sing,
Christ, the King,
King of Heaven,
King of Earth,
Who redeemed us
By His birth.
Holy Angels' Society
"Cod hath given His angels charge over thee."
VIRGINIA JANE BLAKE. ...........,. ...,,. P resident
AUGUSTA TEGEDER. , . .,.. VicefP1esident
ANNA MAY SANDERS. . . ..., Secretary
AGNES CLIFFORD l,... 4 . , ,
This I pray,
Help me to do
My work today,
As Christ would do
It, were He here.
Help me to grow
More near and dear
To my good Father
Who blesses me
With His great Love.
6 ,gy hi
,Rf j Z
The Army of the Little King
DOROTHY JANE ARENS
"Thou canst not have forgotten all
That it feels like to be small."
Nearest and dearest to Him are they,
Who pray to their Little King each dayg
Lisping to God their sweet message of love,
Childlike they trust in His heaven above.
g i' t Misha X-
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The Mathematics Club
BETTY HOLLBNKAMP. , . ........ . . . .
FRANCES BLUDAU. .
Donori-IY RIBLAG. .
Einstein may have something on themg
It's not more than a bit,
For had he their queer problems,
He'd soon give up and quit.
He does not have to do his work
In certain length of time,
Nor find the lon est chord of chords
On a shiny, silver dime.
And so if he were in their place
And one of them were he,
No one is qualified to say
What miracles we'd see.
No doubt we'd have a different world
Without much want or waste,
And everyone would find this earth
just suited to her taste.
FRANCES BLUDAU ....... ............. .....,.... P r csidcnt
Aucn Pnx'roN .............. ..... V iCC'PTCSidC1lC
MAH MARGARET McGumn ..... ........ Sc cremry
It's very, very hard to tell
VVhat everyone will be,
Because we cannot always judge
By just the things we see.
Take Lindbergh nowg Who'd ever guess
That he would rise to fame,
And leave to our posterity
The record of his name?
Who knows? Perhaps some scientist
Of future great repute,
Whose Words will awe her hearers
And leave them stricken mute,
Has graced our classes here at school,
Unrecognized by usg
. Has Walked and talked and hiked with us,
And ridden in our bus.
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE .,.. ...............,.... ........ P r csident
LORETTA COSGROVE ........ .... 4 . . . ...... VicefP1'esident
BETTY HOLLENKAMP ...... ..... .....,. S c cretafy
. . . . . .Treasurer
JEAN WAGNER ......
As minims we could make mud pies
01' play at being elves,
When nearly everyone went home
And we were by ourselves.
But now we are too big for that,
We must be dignified.
We can't go teeterftottering
Or shooting down the slide.
Our tastes have changed, and we grow bored
When there's not much to do,
So we have organized a club,
A very fine one, too.
Its ofhcers are pictured here.
They save us from ennui,
By doing everything they can
To make each weekfend be
A jolly time, a joyful time,
That We appreciate,
A happiness for memory
That nothing will abate.
I I , QI'
, J no-an -B., huh-ew
Mary Staunton, Mary Lomse Pater, Gertrude vor dem Esclie, jean Striker, Lillian Runda
Audrey Fernandez, Aileen jones, Mary Margaret McGuire, Catharine Fath, Dorothy Tapke
Ruth Newland, Grace Higz, Alice Pexton, Martha Sanders.
We don't work like smart French cooks
Whose foods tempt you hy their looks
But repel you hy their taste,
For We think that is a waste
Of the hounty that is given
By the good God up in Heaven.
So we try to make each dish
just suit everybody's Wish,
Not too sweet or not too tart
But a work of perfect art.
From potatoes down to fudge
We are able to prejudge
And know just the right amount
Of the measures we should count.
So if you should have the need
Of a cook who will succeed,
You can set your mind at ease
That the food can't help hut please
From the salad to the soup,
If you choose her from our group.
f ' g WIP!
GBRTRUDB Gnizwn .... ............
BETTY HOLLENKAMP ,....
Bm-'ry RIBLAG .......
DOROTHY RIELAG ...,
They can play a line old melody
From Beethoven, Bach, or Liszt,
And by weird sounds create for you
A storm or wildfwave whist.
Or they will imitate the wind
And give your spine a chill,
Or play such soothing, easing chords
Your soul grows calm and still.
Then if you wish not strains sublime,
They'll treat you to a show
And play such fast and jazzy tunes,
Your feet just have to go.
For versatility is theirs,
They play both old and new,
And play them so it's hard to tell
The better of the two.
. , , . .Treasurer
. C .W
VIRGINIA JANE BLAKE. . ..........,. ..,.,... P resident
JEANNETTE MEYER . . . ..,... VicefPresIdent
JANET LouIs ....., ....... Se cretary
St. Cecilia up in Heaven,
Can you hear us down on earth
As our lingers kiss the keyboard
And give rhythmic beauty birth?
Once you, too, played line, sweet music
To delight your loved Lord's ear.
Angels hearing, stopped in wonder,
Then they knelt or hovered near.
Though no angels come to listen
When we play or sing a song,
Yet We hope with hours of practice
That the time may not be long
Before God in His high Heaven,
Favoring all our melodies,
May send saints and wondering angels
To approve our rhapsodies.
STANDING!-Grace Chenal, Helen Krall, Grace Engel Gertrude Ge1we
Sr1ATEDfBetty Rielag, Dorothy Rielag.
Honor Pupils in Mus1c
TESTIMONIAL: Grace Chenal, Helen Krell.
SILVER MEDAL: Grace Engel, Gertrude Gerwe,
The technique of the angels
Who live in Paradise
Has been reputed splendid,
It's probably quite nice.
But we have never heard themg
We don't know how they sound
We have to find our music
Right here upon the groundg
So we count these our favorite
And surely We all know
We'll End no better artists
No matter where we go.
The most proficient pianists
We've ever heard or seen,
They should turn Paderewski
A shade of Irish green.
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THREE PILLS IN A BOTTLE
A Fantasy in One Act
Presented by the Graduates, October 10, 1929
Tony Sims .,..,..,.,...,.,.,,.........,.. GRETCHEN NARDINE
The Widow Sims ,.....,..... ,.A,......., N ORMA MEYER
A MiddlefAged Gentleman ..., .,....... V IRGINIA MILLITZER
His Soul ...,,....,,....... ......,.......,,. A LICE PEXTON
A Scrub Woman ...,..... .... M ARY MARGARET MCGUIRE
Her Soul ......,..,. .,...,..,..., M ARIAN FANGER
A Scissors Grinder ..... ........ A ILBEN JONES
His 5Oul .....,...... . . . LORETTA COscROvE
PLACE :TA room in New Place House, Stratford. Fireplace to left. Door to right and to left
High backed armchair by the fire. Writing table and chair behind it to the right. Candles
on the mantelpiece and table.
TIME: Evening june 30, 1613.
Will Shakespeare ........
Ben Jonson ..............
Spirit of the 20th Century. . .
The Fairy .,,....4.......
Mark Anthony ....
Romeo ...... ,... . ..,.. . .
Juliet .....,....... .,...
Henry the Fifth .,... .....
Lorenzo .,,r.,..,, . . .
Dancer from the Pageant in The Tempest ....,
, . . . . .MURIEL PRATO
. . . .CATHARINE FATH
. . .AUGUSTA BLUDAU
, . , .MARY C1.iEEoRD
. . . . .GRACE ENGEL
. , . .FRANCES BLUDAU
. .BETTY HOLLENKAMP
.MARY ELLEN BARRETT
. . , . .DOROTHY TAPKE
, . . .DOROTHY RIELAG
. .CATHERINE SCHMIDT
November 13, 1929
THE LAND CE FORGETFULNESS
A Plziy in Three Acts
Presented by the Juniors
The Pied Piper ,,,.
Prince Rupert. . .
Queen of the Fairies ....
King of the Elves .... . . .
Children Of Hamline Town
MARY A. STAGGE
MARY L. HEILRER
ANNA M. SANDERS
. . . . . .SYLVIA FRICKE
. . . . .MARY LOUISE MEISER
... ... .JANET LOUIS
. . .VIRGINIA J. BLAKE
. . . . . .JEANNETTE MEYER
. . . MARY SUSAN SCHULTZ
. . . . .MARY ALICE RATH
ETHEL GARDNER MARIAN RUSSELL
February 2, 1930
by JANET MOYNAHAN
Sheila ............,............,.......... . . . ,.,. . . . .... V. J. BLAKE
The ChildreniJ. MEYER, A. M. SANDERS, A. CLIFFORD, A. TELIEDER, M. S. SCHULTZ,
E. BAYLESS, K. MCGUIRE, P. MEYER, E. MCCUIRE.
The Leprechaun ...................,.....,....... ..,.... . . . . .M. A. RATH
His Conipnnions-W. TEGEDER, E. GARDNER, M. L. HEILKER, M. A. STAGGE, P. MEYER,
M. S. SCHULTZ, E. BAYLESS,
March 17, 1930
THE HAPPY PRINCE
Render . . .....,. , .
The Happy Prince ,....
The Swallow ..,...,
The Reed ..... ...T
The Mayor .........
The Town Councillor, .
The Professor .....
Pierrette . , ..,. , I
Pierrot .,..... ,
The Seanistress, .
The Sick Buy. , I .
The Poet ..,,.. . . ,
The Match Girl. . , .
The Beggur ...,.,.
The Angel ....,
, , . . CATHERINE SCHMIDT
. . I . AUGUSTA BLUDAU
. , . VIRGINIA JANE BLAKE
I . . . . HELEN KRELL
. , I CATHARINE FATH
, I , . GRACE ENGEL
. , NORMA MEYER
. . ..,... SYLVIA FRICKE
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE
. I . T... . . . ETHEL GARDNER
. . . . ELIZABETH HOLLENRAMP
. . . . . ELIZABETH BOHRER
. . ,.... ALICE PEXTON
I . . . RUTH MARIE INWALLE
THE CLOUD CONVENTION
A Minstrel Presented by the Tenth Tear
Miss Fanny Fziirflake .....
Miss Sara jane johnson .
Miss Basinda Boo ,...
Miss Tilly Tulip ....,.
Miss Rosie Redbud .....
Miss Mabel Merin ue.
Miss julia julip ......,,.
Miss Pauline Pale ....
Miss Dotty Dandelion. . .
Miss Will Be White, .
Miss Daisy Dewdrop ....
April 1, 1930
Miss Rachel Rowboat ..... ....
. . . .MILDRED BALL
I . . .IRENE COWEN
. , .MARY CLIFFORD
. . . .FERN CAMERON
. . , , . . .GRACE ENGEL
. . , . ,JEAN FANGER
ANNIE B. MCGUIRE
. . . . ,BETTY RIELAG
I .DOROTHY RIELAG
. , . . . .HELEN KRELL
. . . , .JEAN WAGNER
. VIRGINIA J. BLARE
, , . MURIEL PRATO
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The Mountain Athletic Association
Aucn Przxror-1 ....... ............... ....,,.. P 1 esident
BETTY HOLLENKAMP .... ........... .,... V i cefP'residcnt
GRETCHBN NARDINB .... .,.... S ecverary
CATHARINE FAT:-1 ..., ..... T 'reasurcv
"A sound mind in a sound body." This is the true aim and end of
education. While our studies in the classroom sharpen our wits, our
athletics develop our bodies. Intellectual training alone does not make a
well rounded woman. Physical culture is as vital and necessary as any other
subject in the curriculum. A
The object of the Mountain Athletic Association is not merely to
teach us to play basketball or baseball or whatever the game may beg
it is primarily to inculcate principles of sportsmanship and fair play-the
basic foundations of all character. Furthermore, physical training gives us
the opportunity to keep our minds clear and our bodies healthy. Perhaps
most obviously, it is to make our school a happy time, replete with activity,
fortunate in companionship, and rich in reminiscence.
TOP Row-Annie B. McGuire, Ethel Chenzl, Loretta Farrell, jean Wa ner Virginia
Millitzer, Catharine Fath, Louise Rath, Dorothy Tapke, Ruth lmwalle, Betty Rxelag Dorothy
BOTTOM Row-Gertrude Gerwe, Mary Ellen Barrett, Alice Pexton, Betty Hollen amp
Norma Meyer, Irene Cowen, Aileen jones.
Oh, tennis is our bestfliked sport,
And you can see us on the court,
A ball and racket in our hand.
We think that we are simply grand
Because we score a point or two.
There's nothing else we'd rather do
Than practice at this jolly game
Where Helen Wills has won her fame
Of course we cannot play her way,
But since we try, we think some day
Our will to win and forceful pluck
Will quite seduce fair Lady Luck,
The fickle jade that bows to all
Who know her proper code and call.
K , ,Y ,,,,,
Tor Row-Mary Cliford, jean Wagner, Muriel Prato, Betty Rielag, Dorothy Rielag, jean
Borrom RowAFern Cameron, Grace Engel, Irene Cowen, Annie B. McGuire, Mildred Ball,
Anna May Sanders, Virginia jane Blake, Thelma Heuer, Mary Louise Meiser, Mary
jane Buzzard, Agnes Clijford, Augusta Tegeder, Dorothy Glaser, janet Louis, Betty Pexton,
Sylvia Fricke, jeannette Meyer.
Class Captain No. Games Played Won
Tenth Year Irene Cowen 6 5
Out upon the soccer field
Their stubborn team would never yield.
Though tired and torn and out of breath,
They scared the others half to death
By the forceful, headstrong way
That they kicked the ball their way.
Hearts and hands and brains and feet
Helped to save them from defeat. -
But most we praise them for their pluck,
Whereby they merited their luck.
Top Row-Dorothy Tapke, Margaret Mary janszen, Catharine Fath.
BOTTOM Row-Betty Hallenkamp, Mary Ellen Barrett, Grace Irene Hzgi.
ELEVENTH YEAR TEAM
Captain No. Games Played Won
Mary Ellen Barrett 7 6
Oh, every sport has champions,
But few have such as these.
They've speed and pep and courage,
Their game is sure to please.
They laughed at fate and fortune
And gambled with the gods,
Then slashed on through to victory
Against surpassing odds.
If they can keep the spirit
They showed us in their game
We'll all be proud we knew them
And so will Notre Dame.
TOP Row-Margaret Staunton, Margaret Mary janszen, Catharine Fath, Dorothy Tapke,
Marie Fritsch, Loretta Cosgrove, Mary Margaret McGuire, Virginia Millitzer, Gretchen
Nardine, Loretta Farrell, Ruth lmwalle.
MIDDLE Row-janet Klinger, Louise Rath, Grace Higi, Mary Frances Baggott, Catherine
Millitzer, Lucille Wagner, Norma Meyer, Alice Pexton, Gertrude vor dem Esclie, Ethel
Chenal, Betty Hollenkamp.
Bo'r'roM Row-Lucinda Blair, Grace Chenal, Mary Catherine Streuber, Mary Ellen Barrett,
Catherine Schmidt, Aileen jones, Gertrude Gerwe, Lucille Dufner, Mary Louise Pater.
Class Captain No. Games Played Won Lost
Twelfth Year Loretta Cosgrove 6 1 5
Eleventh Year Dorothy Tapke 6 4 2
Ninth Year Ethel Chenal A 6 3 3
Date Winner Loser Score
October 15 Tenth Year Ninth Year 2 - 1
October 17 Eleventh Year Twelfth Year 4 - 0
October 21 Ninth Year Eleventh Year 2 - 0
October 24 Tenth Year Twelfth Year 6 - O
October 28 Ninth Year Twelfth Year 1 - 0
October 31 Tenth Year Eleventh Year 2 - 0
November 4 Eleventh Year Ninth Year 2 - 1
November 7 Tenth Year Twelfth Year 4 - 0
November 11 Tenth Year Ninth Year 2 - 1
November 14 Eleventh Year Twelfth Year 3 - 1
November 18 Twelfth Year Ninth Year 1 - 0
November 24 Eleventh Year Tenth Year 2 - O
TOP Row-Louise Rath, Betty Rielag, Dorothy Rielag, Virginia Millitzer, janet Klmgcr
Norma Meyer, Ethel Chenal, Lorena Cosgrove.
MIDDLE Row-Loretta Farrell, Ruth Imwalle, Fern Cameron, jean Wagner Muriel Prato
Annie B. McGuire, Marie Fritsch.
Borrom Row-Aileen jones, Catherine Millitzer, Irene Cowen, Gertrude Gerwe Mary
Margaret McGuire, Alrce Pexton, Grace Chenal, Mildred Ball,
Captain No. Games Played Won ost
7 1 6
7 5 2
7 2 5
Tor Row-Loretta Cosgrove, Dorothy Tapke, Catharine Fath, Louise Rath, Fern Cameron,
Betty Rielag, Virginia Millitzer, Frances Bludau, Augusta Bludau.
MIDDLE Row-Dorothy Rielag, Margaret Glorius, Mary Ellen Barrett, Irene Cowen, Ethel
Chenal, Ruth Imwalle, jean Fanger, jean Wagner.
Borrom Row-Alice Pexton, Betty Hollenkamp, Grace Higi, Mildred Ball, Gertrude
Gerwe, Catherine Millitzer, Grace Chenal.
Mercury with winged hoofs,
All we track girls now have proofs
You were Greece's gladdest god,
For your feet uniquely shod
Took you over land and sea
In a constant jubilee.
With the wind upon your face
You flew through eternal space,
And you sensed a mystic joy
Like a happy little boy
Running fast with all his might.
We, too, share your great delight
In the glory of the race.
With the wind against each face,
Fresh and gay we make our start
With a lightsorne, eager heart,
And our fleet heels beat the ground
With a steady, easy sound.
But it's when we reach the goal
We are jubilant of soul,
When with nerves and sinews strained
We can grasp the prize we've gained.
A Freshman's Diary
Dear Diary, no words can say
How sick for home I am today.
I wish my Mother could be here
To help me start my high school year
I'm tired of roaming through the hall.
I think 'twill be the end of fall
Or later still, before I know
just where and when I ought to go.
Today we had a late High Mass.
I prayed I'd study hard and pass.
I hope that jesus hears my prayer
And all my class grades turn out fair.
This afternoon we had a show.
Instructive? Yes, I liked it? No.
Though still I should be edified,
I was so bored I could have died.
The Ninth Year gave us a surprise,
A play to feast our ears and eyes.
I sympathize with Rip, poor man.
I, too, take all the sleep I can.
Today we walked to Watson Field
And watched the airships while they wheeled.
My feet were tired, but I felt glad.
A girl who hikes cannot be sad.
A Freshman's Diary
C October twelfth, Columbus Day.
We had a whole big holiday.
T How sad such days must be too good
For us to have as daily food!
There was no chemistry today,
B For all the students went away
To see ice made. And now I see
E I-Iow useful chemistry can be.
At last the Mission Candy Sale!
My sweet tooth's satisfied. I hail
The brave and valiant candy cooks
Whose fudge tastes better than it looks
Cecilian's Musicale today!
I really like to hear them play.
I wish that I could do as well,
Sometime I may though. Who can tell?
The first reports were read today.
It's really very hard to say
just how I felt when I was called.
Nobody else was more appalled.
A party for gay I'Iallowe'enl
My choice costume was red and green
But much too tight. I dared not dance
For fear the skirt might split by
A Freshmarfs Diary
Feast of All Saints, a holy day,
It's most propitious, so they say.
I prayed to all the Saints I know,
And hoped they would not answer, "No
Drear education talks this week!
My spirit's growing very meek
Beneath its great scholastic load.
I believe that lessons are a goad.
A fine oldffashioned Spelling Bee,
As rare a sight as one can see.
The competition was so tight
I thought the match would last all night. I
Do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti, do,
That is the way the scales should gog
And that's how our Cecilians sing,
Their voices soar on Music's wing.
Hurrayl Hurray! Thanksgiving Day,
Spent in a gay and jolly way
Will soon give us a deep delight-
We start for home sweet home tonight.
A Freshman's Diary
Refreshed and ready now to work
With resolutions not to shirk,
We start anew the school girl's day
As if it were just happy play.
O music clear! 0 music sweet!
I feel you in my hands and feet.
Three college artists came out here!
And every one imparted cheer.
Reports again! Reports again!
How hard it is to say, "Amen,"
I'm usually far from sad,
But days like these I can't be glad.
Today we held a great bazaar
With customers from near and far,
And when we saw the sum we made
We felt our efforts were repaid.
A visitor from far away,
Old Nick, himself was here today.
He gave us gifts and left much cheer
Then promised to return next year.
Now is the time of mistletoe
Of holly wreaths and virgin snow,
The gladdest feast of all the year,
Blest Christmas Day is almost here.
'B . A ,P Q"' n LC
A Freshmarfs Diary
I came back late on Sunday night.
A The Mountain was a pretty sight
With bare trees hid by kind, white snow
N Beneath the moon's enchanting glow.
But it is not so nice today
A So much hard work, so little play.
The same old routine classroom grind,
R Enough to tire 'most any mind.
Sister Francesca talked to us
Without much verbal pomp or fuss.
And Oh, how interesting I deem
The foreign Helds and mission theme.
Tumfte diddle, tiddle tum ti,
Sweet songs like these can never die.
The Mozart's echo, loud and clear
Is still resounding in my ear.
We're highbrows nowg we take a part
Discussing points of modern art.
We think there's little else to know
Because we saw a studio.
The math and science devotees'
Assembly could not help but please.
We learnt some scientific "whys"
About the scintillating skies. "'
A Freshmaifs Diary
E To win my heart will be no task,
It's yours if you will only ask.
B My love is yours, and yours is mine,
For it's the feast of Valentine.
U The stars in the heaven must grow green
When they descry the picture screen,
A And see the hero, gallant knight
R Save his fair love from woeful plight.
Lady of Lourdes, we understand
How much you blessed your favorite land,
For we have heard the lovely tale
Cf how you graced Lourdes' humble vale.
This second national holiday
We saw a famous actress play.
L'Love Duel" so the play was named
Its star, Miss Barrymore, is famed.
A holiday on Saturday! ' ,
No words, no song, no speech s V
can say 4' A L ,EQELJ
How dire I think such awful plight. eff?
George Washington must feel this 0' G 'K
Twentyfjifth L. A
Our missioners are really good.
They've done most everything
To interest us in what they do.
"The Flying Fleet" for me and you. H4
A Freshman's Diary
The long, free stretch of open road
A Deserves a fine Pindari code,
But let it here suffice to say
We simply hiked three miles today.
C Three days of silence for our souls
To think upon their distant goal.
H Three days Wherein to feast on love
And pray to God in heaven above.
We like what We can understand.
Because we saw the mission land
In pictures on the screen we feel
That it is something near and real.
I like the Seven Gables so!
There's no place else I'd rather go.
We hiked the first half, rode the
I hate to think the fun's all past.
We celebrate most holidays
In common, ordinary ways,
But this was different, best of all, , Q' ' 13,
For Irish fairies graced our hall. ,W 124
Twentyfflfth ' 7 J N
Upon their Consecration Day, I' X
They placed themselves 'neath 4 ,.,, ,.,, . H,
Mary's sway, A ig K ""
Nine girls, as good and pure and
sweet, -N 4
As it will be your lot to meet. O
A Freshman's Diary
The Minstrel was a great success.
P I surely wish I could express
How hard we laughed, like boys, unphased
R Until the roof was almost raised.
I I shopped for Easter clothes today.
I wonder what the folks will say
L When they see me step off the train,
Arrayed in Fashion, chic yet sane.
Spring fever has me in its hold.
I am so tired, when all is told
I think there is no "tireder" girl
Inside this mammoth solar whirl.
It's much too warm to study now
About some ancient history's "how,"
When there's a rich and lovely yield
Of yellow daisies in the field.
There are not many days to count
Before we leave the dear old Mount.
Vacation time will soon be here.
To rest our brains from anxious fear.
0 Q Q O
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4 4 1,,e,.
Give me an inch, I crave a mile.
Because vacation's past awhile
I want to go back home again
Away from mathematics' ken.
A Freshmaifs Diary
The May procession was quite right.
The sun shed just the proper lightg
The birds, the weather, all conspired
To make the day what we desired.
The feast of our Directress here,
Whom all of us hold near and dear,
Was celebrated festively.
We liked it well, and so did she.
Qur parents came to see the play,
Dramatic highlight of sweet Magf.
Though mine was no important part,
I acted it with all my heart.
Its program taught me several
I think each little bird that sings,
Each blade of grass, all things that
Teach something which I want to
How sad it is, how sad alas!
That I am in the Freshman class,
For Teacher thought it would be
That we should take a C. U. test.
I laughed until I almost died
At what Miss Kasper's classes
We're acrobats, Csupposed to bel
But handsprings get the best of me.
A Freshmarfs Diary
J The First of june, a happy day,
Vacation's surely on her way.
Quite proud of all my high school lore
U I shall be going home once more.
I walked to Reading, quite a hike,
To buy a present for my strike.
E When she looks at it she will see
A gentle hint to write to me.
The picnic was a merry feast,
A happy day to say the leastg
And yet how sad now it is past
To think it's nineteenfthirty's last.
Mosquitoes, hreflies, june bugs, too,
Alight upon the silver dew. gig?
These mountain bugs know how to tease, They bite as hard as bumble bees. K
Commencement Day dawned bright and clear, I
The bright, blue sky shed not a tear A
To see the grads all go away If , Q l
Upon their graduation day. X f 7
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N ,lf l
Twelfth he ,W
Goodfbye, goodfbye to Notre Dame. ,fl
5 - l
I shan t forget her precious name. X If YA
Soon, very soon perhaps, I may ,x X y
Be coming back some bright fall day. ' um,
GRBTCHBN NAILDINE ...................... ,....... . . . .............. Editor
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE. . . ...... Business Manager
LORBTTA Cosonovn ........ . ......... Art Editor
WRITTEN UPON RECEIVING MY PROOFS
I had some pictures taken
Not very long ago
And now I'm in a frightful fix,
I really do not know
Which I should have developed.
Should it be this or that?
This one, where I am standing,
Or that, in which I sat?
In this my hair is nice and neat,
In that it's rumpled up,
In that I look less like a girl,
More like a shaggy pup.
In this my lips are pursed too much
In that my eyes are crossed.
In this I seem too lovelorn,
As if my heart were lost.
I look at this, I look at that,
I'm vexed and vexed, you see.
Oh, won't somebody else decide
just which is best of me!
TO THE MUSE
Near to me,
Dear to me,
Please have no fear of me.
Come take a look,
And then stay in my book.
For my heart's fire will cook
Sweet dainties to eat,
And I'll call you my Sweet,
If you only will meet
These wishes of mine,
And give me a rhyme
To appease my lean book for a time.
Oh, the editor's chair is an easy chair
Compared to my threeflegged stool,
Which quivers and wobbles and wavers,
A target for all ridicule.
The money comes in, the money goes out,
just how and just why, I don't know,
Yet I must keep track, Cjust try to keep trackj
And tell where each penny must go.
A shortage comes upg of course it's my fault!
My realm is the realm of finance.
Division, addition, are hot on my trail,
Arithmetic leaves me askance.
But still I must try somehow to supply
The funds for the needs of the staff.
And when I complain, it does me no good,
They think it is worth a good laugh.
And so I have learned, since my warnings are spurned,
They will spend every dollar they see,
Then theirs is the praise, the credit for taste,
But the bills all will fall to poor me.
-Business M cmager
Genius is but perspiration,
And this highfhat inspiration
- Which the poets rave about
Is so quickly put to rout
That it might as well not be,
It is little help to me.
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WHY READ A BOOK?
Why read a book when there are birds
Printing clear and breezy words
Upon the clouds' white pages? When
A busy robin and a Wren
Are syllables of ecstasy?
A line of swallows on a tree,
Or wire, is a sentence, long
And sweeping. A flying flock's a strong
Paragraph, while in the air
Is quilled elaborately a rare
Illumined manuscript in gold
And green. And say what book can hold
More fascination and delight
Than birds in migratory flight?
-C. C. BURNS
Reprint from "Current Literature," December, 1929
True, Nature's beauty can be seen
By all who care to take the time,
But who can know without research
The works of all the bards sublime?
For all tradition cannot be
Approved through merely spoken words,
And interest throughout time may change
To let us see no joy in birds.
For clouds will oft be in the sky
Thus hiding migratory flights.
Have prose and poems and legends all
Lived in the sky with these delights?
'Tis true that beauty's realm may be
Up in the sky with clouds and birds,
Yet who can rob from books their share
Of aging beauty in their words?
MARY CLIFFORD, 1932
'Tis true that birds may print their words
Upon the clouds' white pages,
That robins, wrens, and swallows all
May syllable the ages.
But beauties rare and rich as these
Are only memory's wages,
'Tis books that store eternally
The golden thoughts of sages.
Why look and dream the whole day through
And think of flowers jewelled with dew,
When leaves of some enticing book
Deep truths reveal in every nook?
Nature to you seems grand and high,
But it will often make you sigh
To plumb its depths, to wrest with art,
To solve the riddle of its heart.
Perused with care the classics rare
Will yield solutions for warfare
In love, in life, in youth, in age.
Can Nature-boast of such a page?
MARGARET MARY JANZEN, 1931
I know you often wonder why
I scorn the birds up in the sky,
To seek some rare sequestered nook
Where I can revel in a book.
It's 'cause the sky is far from here,
And I crave something near and dear,
Something that's not too high above
For me to reach it with my love.
Now once when I was very sad
I sought a bird to make me glad.
He only looked and laughed at me,
He couldn't understand, you see.
But a book is like a tender friend
Who knows just what sweet words to send
To ease my troubled, restless heart,
And take away all hurt and smart.
GRBTCHEN NARDINB, 1930
ll-S5gV,K'-'jg LL set, sir?" queried Wilkins, drawing on his great furflined
4 Commander Byrd stood meditatively before the trim little
Floyd Bennett, and eyed it with evident approval. Crowds of
eager reporters and newsfreel photographers milled in a continuous stream
about the plane. It was getting colder, and a slight snowfall had set in.
"We ought to be out of here now," observed Byrd, anxiously consultf
ing his radiumfdial timepiece. "Everything will be O. K., Wilkins, as soon
as that mite of a mechanic has finished." Byrd glanced searchingly about
the field. "H'mA-guess he must have gone in," he concluded. "I don't see
him anywhereg do you? Funny! I could have sworn I saw him not twenty
seconds ago at the control board. It's pretty raw out here tonight, though.
I suppose he made a dash for the warmth of the shelter house as soon as he
Hnished. Well, let's be off, Wilkins."
The pilot climbed into the cockpit and started the motor. The crowd
fell back a little as Byrd prepared to swing the huge propeller into motion.
In a moment it was spinning as evenly as a top. The plane lurched, shot
ahead, bumped some feet across the rough field, and then rose gradually,
easily clearing a row of trees that lined the road lying beyond. Higher and
higher it climbed, always moving in the path of the powerful searchlights,
until it was swallowed up in the darkness of the November night.
"Say, Wilkins," shouted Byrd above the roar of the motor some
twelve hours later, "we must be off the course."
'Tm afraid you're right, sir," replied the pilot. "I think we lost the
route at the last coast town."
"Wilkins," Byrd called again after several minutes, "I wish you'd go
into the cabin and get that small map of South Atlantic Airways. I'll take
the controls while you're gone."
Wilkins, who was glad for a stretch after his long vigil, surrendered
the controls to Byrd and went in search of the map. He was a big man,
hardly one to be easily frightened or taken by surprise. But upon entering
the door of the cabin, he started involuntarily, for seated at the table in
the middle of the room, was the young mechanic about whom Byrd had
been so perplexed on the previous night. The lad started, too, for he was
hardly expecting to see either Wilkins or Byrd so soon. The pilot was the
first to recover his composure.
"Young man," he thunderedf' what are you doing here? I suppose you
know well enough what Commander Byrd will say when he learns that
there is a stowaway on board the Floyd Bennett, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," replied the boy promptly, fully prepared to stand by his
guns. "But perhaps you won't tell him, sir."
Wilkins reflected silently for a moment. "I'll have to tell him, boy,"
he said at length. "You see, he'll find out sooner or later, and that wouldn't
be good for either of us. Maybe I can help you out, though. Come along,
When Byrd discovered the situation, he was incorrigible, and for fully
five minutes he blazed and fumed with uncontrollable anger.
"A stowaway!" he exploded. "What are you doing here?" he snapped
at the boy. "Who are you? What do you want? How did you get in this
"just a minute," put in Wilkins. "Give the poor lad a chance. He can't
answer all those questions at once." ,
Byrd realized the truth of this statement and his next question came
with a little less display of animosity. "Why did you come here?" he def
manded. ' '
"It would take a long time to tell you in detail, sir," the boy replied,
"but if you will listen to me, I'll make it as brief as possible."
"All right," answered Byrd. "We'll listen. Go ahead."
"My name is Dick Forrester, sir," the boy began. "When I was eight
years old, Ronald Amundsen took me with him, as a mascot, on his trip
to the South Pole. He made maps of the journey, even of the parts where he
was lost. A few years before his death, he gave me the maps of the parts
where he had missed the way, as a souvenir of the trip."
At this, he took from his coat pocket a few small charts, which he
proceeded to show Byrd and Wilkins.
"You see," he continued, "I think these maps will help you back to
the right course, for, no doubt, you know you are off the route, don't you,
Byrd and Wilkins both nodded confirmation to this surmise.
"See that thin pencil line running up there and ending in a star?"
continued the boy, tracing the route with his finger. "That was the last
time Amundsen got off the track, which was very near the Pole, so I think
that if we follow that way we ought to get there. What do you think?"
"I think you're right, boy," Byrd declared. "We'll try it anyhow. I'm
afraid I'm going to have to thank you for hiding in this plane, instead of
And so the Floyd Bennett changed her course, and for several ,hours the
plane forged ahead in silence. At last the bits of wasteland and frozen
waters that mark the site of the South Pole came into view, and on the
evening of November twentyfninth, nineteen hundred twentyfnine, the
two explorers realized the accomplishment of their daring project.
On the return trip, Byrd and Dick Forrester spent much of the time
compiling marks of the journey. Nor did Byrd soon forget his debt of ratif
tude to the young adventurer, for as soon as they reached land, the followf
ing telegraphic message was flashed to all the leading newspapers of the
world, through the Associated Press:
YOUNG STOWAWAY ON FLOYD BENNETT SAVES BYRD
AND WILKINS FROM DISASTER.
IRENB COWBN, 1932
Subdued li hts, inward groans, harsh mutterings, these were some of
the features og a room in a college frat house. A knot of boys intently
studying their assignments seemed to be the cynosure to which all lines
of interest centered. One chap tussled with an essay based on "The
Production of Wheat in 1908 Compared with That of 1929" His nei hbor
was experimenting on a Greek drama, trying to hoodwink himself into
believing that he knew every word he read.
The real hero of the study room, however, had engaged a corner for
himself, and, apparently, he was lost in the subject at hand. Concentra'
tion seemed to claim him for its own, and the situation was so novel to
his companions that they grew restless and waxed hot with curiosity.
Who did not know that Stanford Leland James was not one to waste
his precious moments of college life on mere books? Now he was spending
an entire night in the study hall. "What was the absorbing object before
him? Could a wide knowledge of science be purchased by a solitary night
of confinement in the study hall?" Thus mused Stanford's friends.
Leland was hi hly respected throughout the campus for his athletic
prowess, and, while the professors did not approve of his idleness, he was
generally liked in the classroom.
Gradually the study room became deserted as accomplished tasks and
drooping eyes beckoned to "Blanket Street." The clock hands moved to
eleven, and still the Sphinx, Stanley, seemed oblivious to life itself.
Midnight arrived, and with a cry of triumph, Leland james arose and
said, "I knew I could figure it out. They're just eightyfhve and threeffourths
days, until vacation!"
MARGARET MARY JANSZEN, 1931
I KNOW A LADY
I know a lady
Like an oldffashioned rose,
Whereon the dew has lain,
And tears have stained.
And sweetly now,
When no one cares,
She is no longer dancing,
In costume gay,
For she has seen
Youth pass away.
BETTY HOLLBNKAMP, 1931
DAEDALUS AND ICARUS
Epic poetry, of course, is infinitely beyond the range of my prattling
pen, but I do feel that I can say a few words about the shorter, less pref
tentious verse forms. First, because I like them, secondly, because I am not
educated enough to be biased by what the critics decree is art and what
they decree is not art. I am free to give you my unvarnished impressions.
Although all poets are brothers under the skin, and their brain children
hence necessarily related, there is something about the poetry of our
twentieth century which differs very much from that of preceding ages.
In Milton's day, poetry was the sublime, exalted language of heaven and
heavenly creatures. It was cold, reserved, and classically pure. The splendid
sweep of its phrasing was majestic and effective, but far removed from the
speech of human beings. To Byron, such a form was a means of getting
even with the world, to Shelley, a marvelous, miraculous gift which he
used, but never quite understoodg to Keats, it was a passion for beauty.
But not until lately has it become the proxy voice of the multitude.
Now only have certain poets set themselves up as mouthpieces for all
humanity. Take Robinson, for instance. He writes the story of miserable
men like Cory, Cheevy, and Flammonde. He gives them to us that we
may behold the stark desperation and hopelessness of the world. Then
the poet goes his way, having stirred up vague, tantalizing questions
and problems, which neither he nor we can answer or solve. A bard of
the old regime would not have done a rude thing like this. He would have
ended with an apt epilogue, bidding us be good, lest we, likewise, suffer a
deplorable fate like the wicked man in the story. Or had he been more
skeptically bent, he would have left us the noble vision of desire. The
old poetry was human. It rewarded the good and punished the wicked.
For the sorrowfstricken it had pityg for the stout of heart, admiration.
It recognized its limitations. Like wise old Daedalus, the writers of it
knew their place and stayed in it.
The new poetry is still very young. It condemns nothing, because it
views everything in the light of cause and effect. The writers of it have a
deep sympathy not only for Promethean souls, but even for the archfiend,
himself. Like Icarus they are flying too close to the sun. They have for'
gotten that they are not gods, and will remember they are men only when
they End their wings me ted by the hot solar fire.
GRBTCHEN NARDINB, 1930
Where the morning dawns upon the bay,
Day by day,
On the lone and quiet Waters blue,
Of silvery hue,
There quite peacefully a ship at rest
Disturbing waters mar its peace
Earthly peace' DoRo'rHY RIELAG, 1932
q v WAS ushered in by a cold, cruelflooking individual, who was
W, dressed in a stiff, white uniform.
gbgklis "Isn't it a lovely day?" She greeted me, sarcastically, I
K-'!7J1 -V thought. Verbally I agreed with her, but in my heart I felt
that it was the darkest hour of my life.
"just be seated," she said. "Doctor Paine will be ready for you in a
very few minutes."
I sat on the edge of a chair, and waited. I picked up a magazine. I put it
down, and waited. I opened my pocketfbook. I shut it, and waited. I
stood up and started towards the window, then waited.
"Follow me, please," came an imperative order from the lady in white.
Like a prisoner condemned to the electric chair, I turned and followed her.
Another frigid individual swathed in white led me to the dentist's chair
and ordered me to sit therein. After covering me with a huge white towel,
she began to sort out some evilflooking instruments. Iwatched her furtively.
The doctor entered. He washed his hands, and gave a few abrupt
orders to his attendant. When he sidled near the chair, I shut my eyes,
opened my mouth, and grimly waited for the worst. He examined each
tooth separately and individually. He inspected every crack and crevice.
He explored every nook and cranny with a sharp, hateful little instrument.
He stopped, frowned, and then took out a paper and pencil, and wrote
something. Then he started the investigating process all over again. He
called in his assistant. Meticulously they went over my teeth again, one
by one. They looked worried. They went over into a corner and conversed
gravely in tones "sub rosa." I caught such phrases as "upper left molar,"
"in the crevice of number eight," "doubtful" A cold sweat seized me,
and I longed to die. The assistant left the room. Doctor Paine came back
to me, looked at my teeth once more, and slowly shaking his head, left the
Quivering like an aspen, I quickly climbed down from that chair and
fled towards the door, with the towel trailing behind me. There I came
face to face with the nurse. I was terrified. Frantically, I glanced around
the room. There was no other way of escape! That was the only door, and
the windows were ten stories above the street. I stood petrified. I symf
pathized with a mouse caught in a trap, waiting for the inevitable.
At this moment the nurse laughed. It was a fiendish laugh, a mocking,
guttural sound. How could any mortal laugh at such a time?
"Congratulations, Miss," she said. "Your teeth are in perfect condif
tion." Then I fainted. LUCINDA BLAIR, 1931
I F it is indeed true that every lover of jewelry has Indian blood,
l ,W then all civilized nations must be nothing more than subdued
l . tribes of rampant redskins. Take me, for instance. I am a typical
. "K American, more or less. Every time I spy shiny, glittering ob'
jects dangling in a store window, my feet just refuse to go farther until
my eyes have had their fill.
To be strictly honest, however, I must confess that every piece of
jewelry does not hold my interest. Cold, artistic pearls hanging from
pedestals have never awakened even a dormant, classic tendency in me.
They affect me no more than a row of sausages in a butcher shop. Still I
do admit that I appreciate diamonds, especially if too many of them are
not clustered to ether.
Speaking of iamonds, reminds me of other things. Can you guess what
they are? You generally find them in a dinky holefinfthefwall sort of store.
Curios is what they are called. Whenever I see a blatant sign announcing
them, I at once conjure up jade, ivory, and gold, carved by the longfnailed
yellow fingers of a painstaking Chinaman. Then if I enter the store, a
half Americanized Oriental usually comes tottering toward me.
"Anything I can do for you today?" he asks in a mouldy voice. "No,"
I answer. "I just came to look, but I don't see anything. Thank you." Then
I leave before he has time to spoil everything by telling me how much it
My suppressed ambition has often been to own a place similar to the
one just described, and also to give it a proprietor worthy of the care of
the lovely things that would be contained there. I fear, however, that since
I am more the artistic than the business type, I might make a financial
failure of such a venture, and since poverty, like love in a cottage, has
never yet enchanted me, I think, perhaps, it would be best for me to
continue admiring and appreciating jewelry, but to leave the buying and
selling of it to other hands. I have not forgotten, you see, that people of
my blood sold Manhattan for twentyffour dollars.
MARGARET MARY JANSZEN, 1931
Lives of Graduates remind us
We should try to do our best
And departing leave behind us
Notes to help in every test.
Mr. Julius Caesar, B.S.,M.A.,Ph.D.,LL.D.
5 We are not sure if you are entitled to all those letters after
4 A Q your name but we think you must be, for you were certainly
, J a genius, and it is the surprise of everyone that you could do so
many things at the same timegrule Rome, fight bloody battles in Gaul,
and compose in Latin your immortal Commentaries which you dictated
to so many secretaries that their busy typewriters were clicking from mornf
ing to night.
We feel that we have become intimately acquainted with you since
last September when we began the translation of your Gallic Wars, so
we thought we would write you this letter. No, we did not choose to
write it in the Latina Lingua, for the reason that some of our school
associates do not know that beautiful language. Why, they have never
heard of the periphrastic constructions which you were so fond of using.
We confess that it was a little hard for us at first to tell the difference
between your active and passive periphrastic verbs, but we noticed that
you were fond of saying that "things had to be done."
Dear Julius, we really felt bad for you when you said, "Gaesari omnia
uno tempore erant agenda." We think that was the occasion also when the
attack of the enemy was so quick that you did not even have time to put
on your helmet and to take your shield from its covering. Those Nervii
with whom you were then fighting certainly had a great deal of nerve. We
have often thought of asking you why you were so absolute. Do you know
that we counted twelve "ablative absolutes" on one page of your Com'
mentaries? We rather like them, though, because they are so easy to transf
late, but we are sorry that you were so fond of "indirect discourse," and
that your sentences are sometimes eight lines long. Indeed, we often get
lost in them and have to sound an "S.G.S." to our teacher to show us a
That haughty Ariovistus and his German troops surely gave you a
great deal of trouble, and we are ashamed to think that perhaps some of them
were our ancestors. You seemed rather partial to the tenth legion and to
Diviciacus. We noticed how kindfhearted you were when you embraced
him with flowing tearsg also when sometimes over two hundred thousand
men, women, and children cast themselves at your feet and with out'
stretched arms begged your pardon and mercy, you spared them.
We, however, would have liked to advise you about some things.
When, as you said, you were going along the river and found "fords," why
didn't you make use of them instead of marching so many tiresome miles
on foot? And when you wanted to reconnoiter Great Britain with the
idea of leading an expedition there the following year, why didn't you take
a survey of the island in an airplane instead of sailing there in your fleet?
And as for that wonderful bridge over the Rhine, which caused you so
much trouble to make, and us so much trouble to translate, we think it
was a great pity you destroyed it right after crossing the river. You
EAR JULIUS CAESAR-
! 'L E i
mention that there was often a scarcity of grain supplies. It is a pity that
you did not live here at the present time when there is so much grain on
the market that people do not know what to do with it.
Some critics say that you did not exactly tell the truth about your
wars, because you left out all your defeats. But, dear Julius, we are glad
you left them out, for it makes our work of translation much easier. Any'
way, you were very modest and humble for you never said "I," but you
always spoke of yourself in the third person, not like Cicero who, they say,
was always presenting bouquets to himself in his orations.
We were much pleased when we finished translating your Fourth
Book, because we knew we had reached the limit of the requirements for
the Catholic University examination in Caesar. This fact also pleased us,
that when you wired to the Roman Senate the termination of your success'
ful campaigns, it declared a thanksgiving feast and a holiday for twenty
days, and we thought how nice it would be if we could sometime get a
vacation like that in the middle of the school year.
Dear Caesar, we trust you will not have any trouble in translating
this letter. We have not used any indirect discourse, indirect questions,
dubitative subjunctives, gerunds, gerundives, or supines, so as to make
the reading of the letter easier for you. But should you find it too hard to
make out, send us a message by radio and we will forward a "pony."
Your devoted admirers,
JEAN AND MURIEL or THE CLASS OF 1932
Autumn, they do you wrong
Who greet you with a cheery song
And shout, "Hello to you, gruff friend.
We like the harvests that you send,
But not so pleasing to our eyes
Are falling leaves and greyftinged skies.
You are no rough, bluff, merry man
Who laughs and sports because he can,
But a sad soul who stirs the dust
And breaks the leaves because he must,
Who mocks to hide his hidden woe
At seeing lovely summer go.
Autumn, I often think of you,
How you must hate the things you do,
To wreck the beauty of a tree
In answer to your fate's decree,
To act a jolly, joking part
And have a hurt within your heart.
GRBTCHBN NARDINB, 1930
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LORETTA COSGROVE GERTRUDE GERWE
Sept. 1930: Kisses the Blarney Aug. 1930:Catches an alligator.
Stone. July 1932: Swims across Panama
Dec, 1931: Visits Prince of Canal.
Wales. Sept. 1934: Marries a coffee
May 1934: Smiles at Sphinx: planter.
makes him talk. April 1935: Establishes resort
june 1935: Founds a conserva for tennis cham ions.
tory for lost musicians.
Oct. 1931: Hollywood4stars
jan. 1932: Writes a western
May 1934: Marries a noted
july 1936: Lahors for welfare of
MARY M. McGU1RE
Nov. 1932: Teacher of Esqui-
Dec. 1933: Lectures to Canadf
ians on "How to Keep
March 1935: Saved from can-
nihal hy singing.
june 1936: Marries a Russian
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Aug. 1930: Visits Norway,
Feb. 1932: Composes oratorio
April 1934: Plays for Rachmanf
june 1936: Acquires a Ph.D.
jan. 1931: Teaches Spanish to
April 1932: Finds a curl of
Moses in the Nile.
May 1934: Marries an Egyptian
Aug. 1936: Brings SN.D.'s to
Aug. 1930: Becomes biographer
of Ethel Barrymore.
May 1932: Teaches English in
Jan. 1935: Writes best seller
Oct. 1936: Wins international
prize at Sydney.
Nov. 1930: Falls heir to a gold
Dec. 1931: Skates across Green'
April 1934: Marries poet in
june 1937: Settles in Russia.
july 1931: Falls heir to a cocoa-
nut grove in Central America
Aug. 1932: Mountain climber
in the Andes.
Oct. 1934: Ridescamels through
Jan. 1936: Settles in Madagas-
Class Motto--"Ad Astra per Aspera"
Processionalflfomp Circumstance in G ...........,........... Elgar
March M1l1ta1fC ................4..................... Schubert
Violins I Violins II
Misses-JEAN FANGER Misses-AUGUSTA TEGEDER
MARGARET SCHMIDT MARY ALICE RATH
LUCILLE DUEENER AGNES CLIFFORD
HELEN KRELL'-SYLVIA FRICKE
Viola ,............... MISS DOROTHY RIELAG
Violincello ........ ...... M ISS JANET KLINGER
Harp .......... .... M ISS LORETTA FARRBLL
Piano ............... MISS MARY LOUISE PATER
Salutatory-The Class Motto ,................. MISS NORMA MEYER
Piano-Polonaise in C Sharp Minor ........................ Chopin
MISS GERTRUDE GERWE
GRADUATION HONORS CONFERRED
In the College Preparatory Course
MISS NORMA MEYER MISS GRETCHEN NARDINE
In the Academic Course
MISS LORETTA COSGROVE MISS GERTRUDE GERWE
In the General Course
MISS AILEEN JONES MISS ALICE PEXTON
MISS VIRGINIA MILLITZER MISS LILLIAN RUNDA
MISS MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE
HONORS FOR MUSIC CONFERRED
Silver Medals for Piano
MISS GRACE ENGEL MISS BETTY RIELAG
MISS GERTRUDE GERWE MISS DOROTHY RIELAG
Testimonials for Piano
MISS GRACE CHENAL MISS HELEN KRELL
Violin--Hungarian Dance No. 5 ......................... Brahms
MISS JEAN FANGBR Piano-MISS GRACE ENGEL
Pianos-Valse Opus 15 ................................. Arenslqy
MISS DOROTHY RIELAG MISS BETTY RIELAG
Valedictory-"Haec Olirn Meminisse juvabit' ............... Virgil
MISS GRETCHBN NARDINE
Song and Dialogue .................... His Highness 'Young Tucker
Chorus-The Sea Fairies ................................ Gilchrist
Address to the Graduates ........ Honorable judge Dixon of Cincinnati
LORETTA COSGROVE . .
GERTRUDE GERWB ..........
AILEEN JONES .......
MARY MARGARET MCGUIRE
NORMA MEYER ............
VIRGINIA MILLITZER. .
GRETCHEN NARDINE. .
ALICE PEXTON .......
LILLIAN RUNDA ......
MARY ELLEN BARRETT. .... . .
LUCINDA BLAIR ......
AUGUSTA BLUDAU ....
CATHARINE FATH . . .
AUDRBY FERNANDEZ. .
GRACE HIGI ........
BETTY HOLLENKAMP . .
MARGARET MARY JANSZEN . .
RUTH NEWLAND .....
MARY LOUISE PATER .
MARTHA SANDERS. . .
CATHERINE SCHMIDT. .
GERTRUDE VOR DEM ESCHE ....
FERN CAMERON .... .
MARY CLIFFORD ....
IRENE COWEN. . .
GRACE ENGEL ....
HELEN KRELL. ..
MURIEL PRATO . . .
BETTY RIELAG. . . . . .
RUTH IMWALLE ..,.
JEANNETTE MEYER. . .
to be a pinch hitter for the Chicago Cubs.
to grow pickles.
to grow serious.
to answer all the advertisements for the
to direct Greta Garbo.
to be a movie star.
to write a problem novel.
to live on a farm.
to marry a cave man.
to have enough to do.
to be an expert toastmaster.
to let her smile serve as dynamite for grief.
to beat all things except a carpet.
to get back to school on time.
to establish a school for laughing purposes
to wear a size three shoe.
to make you smile out loud.
to think in terms of Pex and tons.
to grow garrulous.
to be prefeminent in composition.
to establish a library.
to be an early bird with her English assign'
to be a headliner on the Albee circuit.
to win a Charleston contest.
to write play reviews.
to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
to win her dream hero.
to write an epic on "Chicago,"
to have the license number 210 for her car.
to further a whispering campaign.
to have her own office.
ak Pk Pk
"This," said the oflicer, pointing to an inscribed plate on the deck," is
the place where our gallant captain fell."
"No wonder," replied the lady, I nearly slipped on it myself."
Sk Pk bk
Loretta: "My, it looks as if a horse thief has been at my desk!"
Gretchen: "Why, is your pony gone?"
An Irishman was eating an
apple pie with some quinces in it:
"Now, honey," said he, "if a few 11-16. v
quinces give such a flavor, how ff,
would an apple pie taste' made all 'J
of quinces?" Q
wk if ar xx' fb
An Enghshman and an Irish G
man, happening to be riding to' .
gether, passed a gallovvs. -'n
"Where would you be," said
the Englishman, "if the gallows
had its due?" f
"Riding alone, I guess," said
the Irishman. 'mil
elf Pk all '
Miss Kasper: 'LWhy didn't ,If '3
you pass the ball to your Captain?" 'J hx
Freshman: "I won't pass it to
her--I don't like her!" M-
wk ik BK
Teacher: "Where was the Declaration of Independence signed?"
Mary Bright: "At the bottom."
PK Pk Pl'
"What was the most remarkable thing about Washington?" asked the
"His memory," said the bright Junior in the last seat.
"His memory? What makes you think that?"
"It must have been," replied the precocious junior. "They built a
monument to it."
Pk wk Ulf
"I never for the life of me," moaned a despondent Freshman, "could
understand wireless telegraphyf'
"Why," said an erudite Senior, "it's as plain as day. They just send the
messages through the air instead of over the wires."
"Oh, I know that," continued the discouraged one, "but how do they
fasten the air to the poles?"
wk PF JF
Helen: "I'd like something striking to give as a present."
Salesman: "Well, vve've got some nice clocks upstairs."
il! PF ill
Why was St. Paul like a horse? Because he liked Timothy.
M. N. D. LIBRARY
The Vision of Desire ............... The Soda Fountain
The Crisis ............ ..... E very Pupil Tests
Cut of Due Time .... ..... M athematics
Under Sail ......................... MOUNTAIN LORE
Kidnapped ......................... College Humor
The House in the Golden Orchard .... Ethel Rose Shoppe
Her Father's Share ........,......... Report Cards
To the Dark Tower ................ Sunday Night Study Period
FERN CAMERON ....... dark and cloudy.
MARY CLIFFORD ...... calm and clear.
DOROTHY RIELAG ..... warmer tonightg rain tomorrow.
BETTY RIELAG ........ approaching storm.
ANNIE B. MOGUIRE . .bright and sunny.
JEAN WAGNER. ..... .mild.
GRACE ENGEL ........ cool but breezy.
MILDRED BALL . . ..... quite warm.
HELEN KRELL ........ slowly rising temperature.
JEAN FANGER ........ cool and moist.
MURIEL PRATO ....... an earthquake from Chicago sweeps Cincinnati.
IRENE COWEN ........ brief thunderfstorms.
Hasn t Scratched Yet . ................ .... N inth Year
The Wonder Book of the English Language. ..My Diary
Children Cry For It ,................. ..... C hemistry
Even Your Best Friends Can't Tell You ...... In Exams
Luxurious Transportation ............ ...... T he Reading Bus
Danger ! .... .....,....................... C onditioned
FF Ili PF
Lillian: CViewing the pictures of past graduates hanging in the
Senior corridorj "I wonder where they'1l hang us next year."
Pk Pk if
Mary Catherine, wreathed in Titian tresses, "Girls, here comes a bull.
If you have any red on, take it off."
ill Ulf ik
If you don't want to be robbed of your good name, do not have it
printed on your umbrella.
Lives there a girl with heart so cold
Who never to a friend hath told
A tale of unrequited love,
When she hath got her in a cove
Where she can tell her tale of woe,
And say how sadly she must go
Through each dark day because she feels
A passion in her which reveals
That she can never happy be.
Unloved by one she loves, she'll be
A malcontent! Oh, lives there such
Who has not loved a strike too much
And found her love received with scorn?
Then let this verse her grave adorn:
"Here lie the bones of this queer girl
Who kept her head from love's mad whirl.
All brave, true love her heart has scorned,
She lived and died, unloved, unrnournedf'
GRBTCHEN NARDINE, 1930
Pk ak Pl!
The train was behind time. An impatient passenger called the con
ductor. "Can't you go faster than this?" he asked.
"Sure," was the reply, "but I have to remain with the train."
ak wk Dk
A FOUNTAIN FUGUE
The school now has a fountain.
It really comes in handy,
For jellyfbread and bottled milk
Can never taste like candy.
A Baby Ruth or Silver Top
Will help us lots in class,
When We've a dreadful history quizz
We simply have to pass.
The fountain girls are cross some times.
They fret and fume and fuss,
But that's not much compared with
The joy they bring to us.
RUTH NEWLAND, 1931
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If I can bear your love like a lamp before me
When I go down the long, steep Road of Darkness,
I shall not fear the everlasting shadows,
Nor cry in terror.
We thank owr advevtisers
whose cooperation has made possible
this fifth edition of
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Arns, Dorothy ............
Baggott, Mary Frances ....
Ball, Mildred ...,.....
Barrett, Mary Ellen. . .
Bayless, Elaine ,.......
Blair, Lucinda ........
Blake, Virginia jane. . .
Bludau, Augusta ,,....
Bludau, Frances ....,,
Bohrer, Anna Elizabeth ....
Bohrer, Elizabeth .,...
Buzzard, Mary jane. . .
Cameron, Fern ..,........
Chenal, Ethel ....
Chenal, Grace ,,...,
Clifford, Mary .....
Clifford, Agnes. . .
Clifford, George ..,.
Cosgrove, Loretta ...... , . .
Cowen, Irene ....
Duffner, Lucille ..,,.
Duffner, Alice ...,
Engel, Grace ,....
Farrell, Loretta. . .
Fanger, jean .....
Fanger, Marian .....
Fath, Catharine. , .
Feck, John .....
Feck, james ........
Feck, William ....,.......
Fernandez, Audrey .......
Fritsch, Marie ......,.....
Fricke, Sylvia ......
Gardner, Ethel .....,,,,.
Gerwe, Gertrude .........
Glaser, Dorothy .....,..,,
Glorius, Margaret ......,,
Greiner, Mary Evelyn .....
Hehman, Audrey ........
Heilker, Mary Louise ...,.
Heuer, Thelma ...........
Higi, Grace Irene ...,...,.
Hollenkamp, Betty ...,.,..
Imwalle, Ruth ...........
janszen, Margaret Mary. . .
jones, Aileen .............
408 S. Cooper Street ........,
98 Patterson Street ...........
207W W. Monument Avenue. . .
4220 Sullivan Avenue ........
Rural Route No. 13 .........
Orchard Avenue ......., .
Hotel Alms ......,....... .
2733 Losantiville Road .......
2733 Losantiville Road .......
337 Benson Street ........ .
120 Benson Street ...........
211 Erkenbrecher Avenue ....
2096 Queen City Avenue ,...
528 Boal Street ..............
2962 Lescher Avenue ........
523 E. Third Street .,... . . .
523 E. Third Street ..... .
523 E. Third Street ...,. .
R.F.D. No. 3 ........... . . .
3408 Manor Hill Drive .......
406 Benson Street ....,,, . . .
406 Benson Street ..... .
1213 Market Street ....,. . . .
1169 Overlook Avenue .... .
6148 Tulane Road ...... .
6148 Tulane Road ....... . . .
2645 Fenton Avenue .........
2420 jefferson Avenue .... ,
2420 jefferson Avenue ,... .
2420 Jefferson Avenue ..., .
6'C Wilmar Apartments .....
724 Dayton Street. ....... .
14 Vorhees Street ....
Reading Road ........... ,
3156 Montana Avenue .... .
Sharon Avenue ,.,,..,,. .
Concord Place ........... .
300 West View Avenue ..,..
716 Cooper Avenue .........
3409 Observatory Road ....,.
805 Wachendorf Street .... ,
823 West Ninth Street .... ,
304 Schenck Avenue .... .
4811 Main Street ...... .
624 Rockdale Avenue. . , .
518 Lexington Avenue .... .
St. Bernard, Ohio
Shiloh Es? Covington Pike
Pleasant Ridge, Ohio
Pleasant Ridge, Ohio
Pleasant Ridge, Ohio
Pleasant Ridge, Ohio
Glendale, Ohio. .
St. Bernard, Ohio
Klinger, Janet ...,. ....
Krell, Helen .... . . . . . . .
Liebman, Phoebe .........
Louis, Janet ..... ........
McGuire, Mary Margaret .
McGuire, Annie B ,.,....
McGuire, Ellen Virginia. . .
McGuire, Kathleen ...,...
Meiser, Mary Louise ......
Meyer, Norma ..,........
Meyer, Jeannette ....,....
Meyer, Phyllis ........,,.
Millitzer, Virginia ........
Millitzer, Catherine .......
Mullen, Susie Mae .......
Newland, Ruth . . .
Overbeck, jane ....
Pater, Mary Louise
Pexton, Alice .,..,
Pexton, Betty ....,
Prato, Muriel .....
Rath, Louise ......
Rath, Mary Alice ...1....
Rielag, Dorothy. . .
Rielag, Betty ......
Runda, Lillian ....4
Sanders, Martha. . .
Sanders, Anna May ......
Schmidt, Catherine ....,.,
Stagge, Mary Agnes ....,
Stagge, James ...,........
Stagge, Nicholas ,....... .
Staunton, Mary ........,
Streuber, Mary Catherine..
Stricker, jean ,.,.. ...,...
Tapke, Dorothy Louise. . .
Tegeder, Augusta .....,.
Tegeder, Wilma ....,..,.
vor dem Esche, Gertrude..
Vondran, Helen .........
Vondran, Lorena ....,..,
Vondran, Charles ........
Wagner, Jean Cable ......
Wagner, Lucille .......,.
Blossom Heath Road. . .
Seven Gables ........,..
Belvedere Apartments .,.,.
228k Williams Avenue. . .
121 Pearl Place ......,.
121 Pearl Place .........
121 Pearl Place ,......
121 Pearl Place ........,
230 Walnut Stre ........
4426 Carnation Avenue. . .
749 Lexington Avenue.
749 Lexington Avenue.
126 jackson Street .....
126 Jackson Street .....
12 W. Benson Street. . .
410 North Vermilion Street
723 Considine Avenue ..,.
230 Grove Avenue .....
255 W. First Street ,....
255 W. First Street .....
513 N. Sheridan Road .....
Riddle Road ..........
Riddle Road ..........,..
2420 Jefferson Avenue ....
2420 Jefferson Avenue ....
109 Vine Street .....,..,.
56 Mt. Pleasant Avenue. .
92 N. Hamilton Avenue. . .
15 Pearl Street .......,,..
5 300 Montgomery Road .
5300 Montgomery Road. . .
5300 Montgomery Road. . .
422 Grove Avenue .....
605 Front Street ........
338 Rockdale Avenue .....
3578 Epworth Avenue ....
Reading and joseph Road. .
Reading and Joseph Road. .
4407 Kemper Avenue ...,.
6428 Montgomery Road. . .
6428 Montgomery Road. .
6428 Montgomery Road. . .
111 East Monroe Street ........
.R.F.D. No. 1 St. Columbus
Slab Fork, West Virginia
Highland Park, Illinois
Mt. Healthy, Ohio
St. Bernard, Ohio
. Sandusky, Ohio
Mount Notre Dame Academy
Reading, near Cincinnati, Ohio
OLDEST CONVENT BOARDING SCHOOL
for Girls in Southern Ohio and
Select Day School for Girls
Conducted by The Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur
Afhliated to the Catholic University, and to Trinity College, Washington,
D. C., and holds membership in the North Central Association of
Colleges and Secondary Schools.
Preparatory, Intermediate, Academic and College Preparatory Courses
Special Advantages for Music and Art
EXTENSIVE GROUNDS OUTDOOR SPORTS
Apply to Sister Superior or Telephone VAlley 254
MGUN T NOTRE DAME
Mr. and Mrs. John A. Cosgrove
of New 'York
701 Holston Bank Building
The Chicago Market Company
114f116 West Sixth Street
Frank Ice Cream Co
Woebkenberg Dairy Co
The READING BANK
Capital ...,................... . . . , . . . ... 825,000.00
Surplus and Undivided Profits .................4..... . . . 48,500.00
Organized in April, 1906
JOHN SINGER, President E. M. GARDNER, Vice President
H. A. GREEN, Cashier C. L. BURK, Assistant Cashier
HENRY ALBERT A. S. BIDDLE PHILIP C. BOK
JOHN SINGER E. M. GARDNER
The READING BANK
SOME SIXTYfFIVE YEARS AGO
The HOUSE of PUSTET
was opened in Cincinnati
Offering to all interested-
Catholic Devotional Articles for the Church, Chapel
The same Courteous Considerations Marking our
Beginning are in Evidence Today.
Every need-every possibilityfin our line of Service,
We care for.
Don't forget we also look after Class Items-such as
Rings, Pins, etc.
For Rosaries, Medals, Prayer Books, Statuary, Pictures
and the like we are efiicient.
We Welcome your Call.
FREDERICK PUSTET CO., Inc.
436 Main St. The Same Old Location Opposite Government Square
648 MAIN STREET READING, OHIO
Telephone, VAlley 343
Wholesale Jghn Mgiggf
Phone, VAHCY 44,7 Estab. 1904 Church Furnishings of Every Description
Gasfitting Ee? Sewer Tapping
Importers E? Manufacturers of
429 Main St. Cincinnati, Ohio
Mr. and Mrs.
T. J. Farrell
M E M O R I A L
VINE ST. AT WASHINGTON
Telephone, Avon 741437415
A. B. Sudhofla
205 West Fourth Street
"Only the BEST"
john Mueller Co.
321f2'7 Wyoming Ave., Lockland, Ohio
Phone, VAlley 71
Coal Builders' Supplies
A dependable place to buy your Musical
Instrument or Radio
Largest Suburban Music Store in the County
L. G. Weisbrod
Tea and Grocery Co.
1005 Main Street Reading, Ohio
Phone, VAlley 1097
Frank Geraci E99 Son
Wholesale and Retail
Phone, VAl1ey 1483 1003 Main Street
A tasteful mark of
E. Huttenbauer E99 Son Compliments
MARKET F. C. ROBINSON
Butchers, Provision and Poultry Dealers DENTIST
T21ePh0HCS, MNH 22622263 921 Main St. Reading, Ohio
Cincinnati, Ohio Phone, VAHCY 860
ENGRAVED WEDDING INVITATIONS AND
422 Main Street
R. T. Welling
Benson Street Reading, Ohio
Benson Street Reading, Ohio
The Best of Pictwres
Phones, CAnal Compliments
The Central Pocahontas Coal
New Fisheries Company Company
324 W. Sixth St. Welch, W. Va. Norfolk, Va.
Cincinnati, Ohio Cincinnati, Ohio
Josephine Gown Shop
Miss Phoebe Liebman
Art Publishing Company
Mr. and Mrs.
G. Millitzer 1021 Broadway Cincinnati, Ohio
of . .
The 211 Wyoming Avenue, Lockland, Ohio
Athens Confectionery PhOHe,VA112Y 20662968
Day and Night
509 Benson Street Reading, Ohio F. WBSTENDORF, Pmpnetm
Phone, CAnal 0077
of John E. Lietmeyer EG? Son
Mr and Mrs Funeral Directors
Jghn Bagggtt 502 E. Thirteenth Street
Compliments Phone MAin 6907
O Joseph Kroger Soap Co.
Menze Brothers Disinfectanfs
Insurance Company Sanitary Specialties-Janitors Supplies
123 E. Second Street
Hamilton, Ohio Cincinnati, Ohio
1564 Elm Street Cnear Libertyj
Phone, CAnal 6930 Cincinnati, O.
The DCRST Company
PLATINUM DIAMOND JEWELRY
PLATINUM and GOLD MOUNTINGS
CLASS RINGS and PINS
2100 Reading Road Cincinnati, O.
The Webb Studio
In the olden days wood engravings
placed noblllty ln the foreground.
Today the H1111ualDeparimenf of f7l1e
Repro ipgrqvlhg' Cb. makes possible the at-
tractive pictorial message through out this book
711.9 Repro Engraving CG., 074023121061 mlb.
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