Abbot Academy - Circle Yearbook (Andover, MA)

Page 29 text:

Glorious Moment 4. The long-looked -forward -to trip to Intervale arrives, crowded full of out-door sport, fireplace fun, and jolly spirits. 6. The great event of our senior play, The Ladies ' Battle . Climax Our Senior banquet — the height of our life as a class. I ENOUEMENT Commencement! The glories of commencement week after final examinations were ours — Baccalaureate; Draper Reading; Musicale; Graduation! Such is the rise and glory of the Class of ' 17. Carita Bigelow £lje Clagg ong Tune — Drink to me only with Thine Eyes Here ' s to the good old Senior Clas , The class of seventeen. Our loyalty will always last, Forever true and keen. And strive we will In hope that still Our motto clear will ring, Live pure, speak true, and right the wrong, And follow the king.

Page 31 text:

There is nothing which gives a Senior quite so many thrills as the last few exciting moments before setting off for that snowbound village in the New Hampshire hills. We pile into the sleigh much besmothered in fur coats and happy way down to the tips of our toes. We are down the hill and scrambling onto the platform in an incredibly short time. The train steams into the station, pulling a private coach after it. We clamber in and spread ourselves out its full length. At Haverhill Mr. Bassett gets aboard, and what a jolly, joking man he is! Before the end of the ride he has us all named and labeled and fed with cookies, bananas and chocolate, until we feel as though we were at a county fair. As we near our journey ' s end, the mountains loom up on either side, all glittering in their white coats, their rugged sides enveloped in clouds of purple mist. Finally the train pulls up to the little station and we jump out and into a barge and off we go ploughing our way through the snow to the hotel where a warm welcome is waiting for us. In less than no time we pull out our sweaters, caps and wooly gloves to try our luck at skiing on the slippery hill outside the door. Our dignified Betty seizes a bicycle on runners and makes a grand sweep down the hill, her coat-tails flying. After a triumphant ride she comes puffing up the hill to tell us what fun it is. We try it, but some of us arise from a snowbank not so triumphant as Betty. Chuck and Mary have a scheme of placing two skis together and sitting on them with Hunkie on behind as ballast. At length Jane interrupts us by saying, There goes the supper bell. I speak for the tenderloin. 27