Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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10 THE MIRROR have decided not to bequeath those brains, but to retain them for future use. On the other hand, we do leave the hard-boiled attitude of the senior class to its successors. They will need it in their bouts with Milton and Virgil. Knowing the need in 'Waltham High School of text-books on the sub- ject,'we leave to the junior class a -carefully edited volume of the his- tory of Lincoln, Massachusetts, in- cluded in its pages to be the-hour for icurfew, the last train back to Wal- tham, and the walking distance in case the train leaves early. Last of all, we leave the junior class most optimistic hopes for a new school. After thus remembering those we leave behind, we can only say, God save the Commonwealth of Massa- chusetts! y In witness whereof we have set our hand and seal this fifteenth day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and twenty- eight. JEAN HUGIJES, '28. Class Prophecy May I .open-inaugurate, so to speak-my little offering in a news- paper office? And in Indiana? Of course, I understand that such pro- cedure is a bit out of the ordinary. 'The stock setting for all worth- while prophecies is either in one's breakfast-room., on the public high- way, or in the lobby of some second- class hotel. However, I hope la di- gression may prove acceptable, and, anyway, I've always had a penchant for newspaper offices: they're so ro- mantic-and Indiana is the state that so heartily rallied 'round the G. O. P. banner by endorsing Hoover. So, with your kind permission and leni- ent, forbearing attention, 'tis in a newspaper office in an Indiana small town that my story opens. I was sitting at my desk .in the northwest-by-west corner of the ten- by-eight editorial room, endeavoring to render into readable literature an arid account of a recent funeral. After an hour of unremitting per- spiration, during which aqueous pe- riod I had completely inundated the desk top and the heterogeneous col- lection of unaccepted literary gems thereupon, I had finally reached the part 'where I disclose to the reader the identity of the corpse's sister on his father's side, when my old--not literally, of course-friend and lit-- erary advisor, Eunice 0,C!air, am- bled over to my desk. Eunice, incidentally and by the way, holds the only sinecure of the otherwise well-managed establish-- ment. She, ladies and gentlemen, tri- umphantly executes the arduous du-- ties of society editor! Grasp it, class- mates, grasp it if you can-'society editor on a penny scandal sheet in a town of eleven hundred misguided souls! Society editor! VV ith Eunice's kind permission, I' will regale you with a choice extract from her Society Items column: Little Miss Marjorie Webber, charming offspring of the recent Fiske-Webber union, cut her first bi-A cuspid this morning. Congratula- tions, Doris and Donald! Well, as I was saying, ere I de-

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THE MIRROR 9 The Will of the Class 0f1928 'We, the members of the Class of 1928 of Waltham High School, be- ing of sound body and mind do make this our last will and testament, thereby declaring to be null and void all previous documents and co-dicils. We bequeath to Mr. Hollis a new and complete set of electrical appa- ratus to be used to unbalance the equilibrium of the present junior class. To Miss Clement we leave an in- dividual refrigerator, that she may shiver by herself, and that the junior class may study in the warmth of closed windows. To Mr. Ward we leave a working plan for a happy school, in which the arrangements for extra-curricu- lar activities shall be quite satisfac- tory, although in the happy school of Mr. 'Ward's dreams, the major subjects would be said extra-curri- cular activities. We leave Mr. Ward permission to direct as many clubs as he may see Ht, the purpose of which clubs shall be the facilita- tion of English work in the class- room. This movement should be very popular with the kiddies. To Miss Spencer we bequeath a more intelligent class in geometry, so that the excuses for unprepared work may be more original. To Mr. Hodge we leave a note- book in which to inscribe expressions as he hears them, in order that the old ones may have a rest. To Miss Pratt we respectfully be- queath a Doomsday Book to hold the na nes of Whisperers in her classes. Since the best basketball team is graduating, we leave Miss Sewall a new set of champions.. Although the gift was made before our demise, we hereby recognize the bequest to Mr. Burke of a successor to Mrs. Faulkner. To Mr. Rounds we leave the priv- ilege of liberating all seniors study- ing in his classes, from candy, gum, and other edibles. To Bliss Darmody, by virtue of her recent performance, we leave a contract with Cecil B. De Mille as star in any play she may choose. To Mr. Kimball we leave one hundred well-sharpened pencils to pass around to the members of his class who come unprepared. To Miss Rigby we leave a noisy class, for her life has been too easy with a commercial class that refuses to whisper even in the absence of a teacher. To Miss Burgess we leave a His- tory of Art class whose zeal for the subject shall be less than ours, for the ardor with which we have pur- sued the study must be the cause of her disgust at the end of a class. As we have noticed how steadily Miss Marcher and Mrs. Cleary can talk, we leave a phonograph, supplied with library lectures and English lec- tures respectively. We make this bequest in an effort to save a great deal of breath. We leave Miss Hall a little auto- matic jarvis to look up words in the dictionary. Having thus generously enriched our teachers, we now pass to the gen- eral bequests to the junior class. Since, after personal observation, we have decided that the junior class is amply supplied with brains, and also that we cannot spare ours, we

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THE MIRROR 11 gressed--friend Eunice sauntered over to my desk, draped a trim, silk- stockinged nether extremity over the corner thereof, and informed me that the city editor wished to see me. Interviews with that Great Mo- gul, the city editor, are a rarity and an occasion to remember. I say a rarity, because he is generally closeted with his very private secre- tary, Dorothy Dart, with the In conferencew sign on the door. And I say an occasion to remem- ber, because the last time he wished to see men, it was to give me a dif- ficult assignment. Even the city editor himself admitted it was diffi- cult. Well, sir, it was difHcult. Seems that somehow or other, two pugnaciously-inclined prize-fighters, Ralph Nelson and Ludwig Mossberg, had been indulging in an altercation as to who was to take Helen Byam, the chorus lady who put Bemis on the map, to the Penny Arcade. The affair had all the earmarks of termi- nating in a rugged catch-as-catch-can back-woodsman style of combat un- til the question of purse arose. Neither cauliflower-eared leather- pusher would consent to co nmit may- hem on the person of his brother traydesman 'till a sufficient stipend should be advanced to remunerate the belligerent for such sundry abra- sions as he should chance to receive. 'Well, affairs were taking on peace- ful aspects once more, and the town police force, John Cassidy, was jack- ing up a wilted trouser leg prepara- tory to leaving the scene, when some misguided philanthropist-I've a sneaking suspicion it was Herbert Bailey, the Mauling lylethodist, and a one-round pugilist of note, laid a bank-note on the side-walk. It was upon the resultant mob scene that I was supposed to report. I've often wondered who got the other part of the five spot. Bly half is no good. I see I have digressed once more. Pardon it, I beg of you. Let's see-I was supposed to see the city editor, wasn't I? Well, as I rapped, albeit a bit timidly on the sacred portals, Dorothy-I still call her Dorothy-blushingly removed the deceitful In conference sign, and bade me enter. Like all good editors, Mr. Farley -for of course it could be no other- ignored my entrance for a few mo- ments, to allow me time to become- as he fondly thought I would-a bit nervous, as some reporters do. You know the way they are-timid, bash- ful, and all that. I wasn't nervous a bit, just a little curious and afraid of being assigned to cover another mob scene. After I had cleared my throat a few times, sort of suggesting in a gentle way that I was there, Jarvis wheeled around in his padded swivel chair and regarded me with friendly eyes. I don't like people looking at me in that kindly, patronizing fash- ion. I resent it. Do you believe in life after death ? .Iarve is like that-always bursting out with some unexpected, unanswerable conundrum. Now it happens that I do believe in' life after death, most firmly. All my folks have, from way back. But it seemed hard to tell Jarve, A-b- un-er-H c'That's what I thought. fstill in that kindly, patronizing tonej Now, Horack, get this-, I want an edi- torial on the life after death ques- tion. Life after death , he repeated patiently, as tho' talking to an in- fant. Life after death. Good day. .Iarve is like that. Abrupt. To- the-point. Clapping my last year's Fedora to its common seat, I left the newspa- per oH3ces. Editorial writing! My big chance had come! Why, when