Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

Page 9 text:

THE ORACLE 7 Valedictory Address JEAN MACNAB Fellow-classmates of 1920, tonight we have had a glimpse of the school of the past, we have seen what is being done at present, and have laid our hopes for the future. We feel a sense of deep gratitude toward the past for building up the school in which we have spent four of the hap- piest years of our lives. We also feel a great responsibility for the future for our success or failure, whether in business or college, will reflect on our school. Let us, therefore, as we go forth to a broader field of work, try to be successful, not only for our own b High School. enefit, but to bring glory to the Plainfield

Page 8 text:

6 | THE ORACLE Salutatory Address DorotHy M. By Les Perhaps never since we have held | our exercises in this new building have we had a Commencement of greater interest and significance than this June of 1920. The class of this year is welcoming tonight not only all of its usual guests (the Board of Education, our beloved superintend- ent, our principal, the speaker who will address us, and the citizens of Plainfield), but, in commemorating the fiftieth ARES of the Plain- field High School, we are extending especially cordial greetings to all who have shared its life and contributed in any way to its progress. To one and all, a hearty welcome.

Page 10 text:

8 THE ORACLE The Valley of the Purple Mountain (Written by the Winner of the Craig A. Marsh Prize Composition— Herbert Hooker. ) Ted Stone was new in China. For nearly six months, however, he had traveled with Carl Mason to distant and out of the way places in search of valuable old Chinese relics, legends and manuscripts for study in one of the big midwestern American colleges. The two young men, after a tedious journey, had arrived at the little missionary out-post, at the head of navigation on a small river, which they intended to make their headquarters for some time. It was reported that the valley contained many interesting objects taken at some long ago period from a ruined temple. They received a cordial welcome from the missionary, who invited them to make their stay at his home. ‘Tis few whites come up this far and every stranger is more than welcome,” he said. After a hearty repast, Mason stated their errand. The missionary, Cole, was a quiet, earnest man of about middle age witha pleasant jovial face, who listened seriously to their tale and then remarked: “I have something which may be of considerable interest to you.” So saying, he reached into a narrow cupboard and withdrew a small casket of curlously carved teakwood, which contained many priceless old records of a place called the “Valley of the Purple Mountain.” It spoke of a great temple and city built many thousands of. years ago and guarded by impassable mountain barriers. “The Valley of the Purple Mountain’—a magic name—suggestive of a score of things—mysterious, unfathomed, hinting at unknown and unexplored regions. No very definite location was given, but the manuscript spoke of it as being somewhere along the upper reaches of this very river. Both young fellows determined to visit it as soon as possible, if only for the adventure. “It was given to me by an old Chinese priest at his death some ten years ago,’ added Cole. One day, Mason being away on a scouting tour, Ted sauntered out of the village and incidentally up the ancient, stone paved trail leading toward the distant western mountains. | Unconsciously quickening his pace to a swift, steady swing, ‘Ted traveled some distance thru’ the pleasant woods, loaded as they were with the rubbery leaved rhododendrons and multitudes of other flowers which he could not name. The sun sank slowly behind the massive rocky piles ahead warning the boy of the advisability of getting back before dark. He lingered though for a while watching the glow of the heavens fade from about the purple peaks, leaving all the hushed land in gray twilight. Ted was suddenly brought back to consciousness of his surroundings by the appearance of a very aged Chinaman tottering toward him, evidently in the last stages of exhaustion. The poor fellow thrust a letter into Stone’s hand and fell, babbling incoherently, at the foot of the boy.