Cambridge Rindge and Latin School - CRLS Yearbook (Cambridge, MA)

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The slowly descending sun lingered almost sadly over the dark- ening earth. Its last rays lovingly kissed the golden hair of a little girl, and touched caressingly the faded hair of the old man. They made a pretty picture as they sat there together in the twilight. He held her in his arms, telling in a voice feeble with age her favorite fairy tales. Suddenly the child sat upright. “Oh, Grandfather,” she cried, “I found the prettiest book in the attic today. Let’s make up stories about it!” “Surely, surely child,” he replied, eager to grant her least wish. She was back in a moment carrying a blue book somewhat old and dusty. “Here ’tis,” she shouted gaily. With startled eyes the old man took it. His class book! Softly and tenderly he turned the pages. Old familiar faces—they looked smilingly up at him from every page. Tears started to his eyes, a lump to his throat. The child was forgotten, and grieved, she crept slowly out of the room, and left him alone with his dreams.

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AUCOGRAPHS OS Ce Ge ee GE SS Ce COS CCCIG SEGESSES

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Arhdiration TO OUR DEAR FRIEND AND TEACHER, MR. BRAMHALL, DO WE DEDICATE THIS, OUR YEAR BOOK AND OUR SUPREME WORK. FOUR YEARS HAVE WE KNOWN HIM, AND FOR FOUR YEARS HAVE OUR LOVE AND ADMIRATION GROWN. WE TRUST THAT OUR BOOK, KEPRESENTA-= TIVE-AS ITs (SvO ROW Raby B Salk ENDEAVOR, WiLL BGP RS al @ SUNT Nee sie letras OF SOc SG ReAg eT den: