Caruthersville High School - Cotton Blossom Yearbook (Caruthersville, MO)

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FRED WATKINS SAM HANLEY LYNN MOORE JUNIOR CLASS President Vice-President Secretary and Treasurer Motto—Success Rewards Labor Flower—American Beauty Rose Colors—Maroon and Gray YELL—Hippity hah! Hippity hah! Juniors! Juniors! Juniors! Rah! Rah! Rah! Who are we? Who are we? We’re the Class of 1923. The Class Eternal The twilight has deepened into the sh des of nightfall. Only the low moaning of the wind breaks the stillness of the night. The fire has burned to a few glowing coals that paint wierd and fascinating pictures upon the surrounding walls. wonderful transition takes place in the smoldering embers. A massive structure with letters of gold emblazoned upon its entrance revelation of thought, can be seen the old winding stairs of Caruthersville High School. A host of spectres, clad in robes of clinging black, sit in solemn council around the time-stained rostrum of tlie study hall. A tall and stately figure in his shroud of black, slowly arid solemnly moves to the steps of the rostrum, and begins to speak in a low sepulchral voice. Royal Knights of the Black Robe, it is my duty as Worshipful Master to summon you this night of all nights, for our last meeting We have long ago passed through the period of germination and classification, and have now finished our reign of nationalibation. Tomorrow we look forward to the stage of realization, where our hopes and ambitions are no longer a dream, but a living reality. We will ascend the path of success into the fertile plains of prosperity, for we have heard the clarion call of opportunity. My beloved Knights of the Royal Order, it is with regret 1 bid you farewell, for I have learned to love each of you with an unfaltering love that will stand the deterioration of time. We have but a few minutes of time for the enchanted hour approaches on tireless wings. I have one request to make of you. While I hold the Holy Emblem of our Royal Order in my hands will you file forward and pay it the allegiance and reverence that you have in the past The black robe spectres arose ; s one and stepped forward to do their Master’s bidding. As the last spectre lifted the Holy Emblem to trembling lips, a tolling bell proclaims the mid-night hour. The spectres vanish into the viel of oblivion. The moon-beams still filter through the windows of the silent hall. The Holy Emblem of the “Junior Clrss of 1922“ unfurls its silken folds to the winds of time. — By LESLIE MORGAN.