Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

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28 THE HUTTLESTONIAN Domestic Science A S I WAS walking by the closet in the cooking room the other day, I heard someone talking in a low voice. Wondering who could be in so small a space, 1 peeped in. The spoon and the egg- beater were there on the shelf, quietly conversing together. “If you could have made the candy 1 helped make, you would have something to be proud of,” retorted the spoon. “What kind was it?” questioned the eggbeater. “Chocolate Cream Candy—2 cups brown sugar; y 2 cup milk; 2 squares chocolate; 1 teaspoon vanilla; 2 tablespoon butter. Boil all together until it will form a soft ball when dropped in cold water. Remove from the fire and beat until it begins to thicken. Add the vanilla, and one cup of broken nut meats, if desired, and pour into a shallow pan. When cool cut into squares.” “That’s all very well, but you should have seen the candy I made,” replied the eggbeater. “Divinity Fudge—2 cups sugar; 1 teaspoon vanilla; % cup Karo; 4 cup chopped nut meats; 4 cup water; pound dates, stoned and cut fine; 2 eggs (whites only). Cook sugar, Karo and water till crisp when tried in cold water. Beat whites of eggs in large bowl, and pour syrup slowly onto them, beating whole till it begins to harden. Add vanilla, nut meats and dates. Spread thick on shallow buttered tin. When nearly cool cut into squares.” I laughed and closed the door, leaving them trying to excel each other in boasting of the good things they had helped to make. RUTH P. AVERY, ’26. A POT-POURRI (Concluded from Page 15) music week. She intends to have several soloists at the morning assemblies, and on Friday evening of that week the High School Chorus and Orchestra will probably give their concert. MARGARET GOGGIN, ’24.

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 27 The Roman of Old O H, THE Roman was a rogue He erat, was, you bettum He ran his automobiles And smoked his cigarettum; He wore a diamond stuckibus And elegant cravatum, A Maxima cum laude shirt And such a stylish hattum, He loved the luscious hic-haec-hoc, And bet on games and equi At times he won; at others, though He got it in the nequi. He winked, (quousque tandem?) At puellas on the forum, And sometimes even made Those goo-goo oculorum! He frequently was seen At combats gladitorial And ate enough to feed Ten boarders at Memorial, He often went on sprees, And said on starting homus, “Hie labor, opus est, Oh, where’s my hic-haec-domus ? ” Although he lived in Rome— Of all the arts the middle— He was (excuse the phrase) A horrid individ’l; Oh, what a different thing Was the homo (dative homini) Of far away B. C. From us of Anno Domini! —HARVARD LAMPOON.

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 29 FOREWORD: The following account was suggested to the author, after a visit recently made by the members of the Senior Sewing Class to the Textile School in New Bedford.—The Editor. The Journey of Some Balls of Cotton O H! HOW good it felt to be unpacked after traveling such a long way from our home in the sunny South! As soon as we reached the Textile School, we were put in huge machines which, at first, frightened us. We were then torn apart, pressed into sheets, and beaten so that all the dirt and waste material would come out. How soft and silky we looked afterwards. Before we could be made into yarns and threads, we went through so many processes our heads fairly whirled. Finally it was time to say farewell, for we were to be separated. Some of us were made into underwear, some were dyed and made into stockings. The rest of us were dyed and woven into cloth of various patterns which, I heard one of the men say, were designed by the boys who study at the school. “No one would recognize me now,” said a prettily designed piece of cloth, as she flounced her skirts. “I wish for no better fate than to be fashioned into a charming frock to be worn by some lovely, little girl.” ELIZABETH SHERMAN, ’24. Revere honor, To truth hold tight, Follow these principles, And you’ll live right. Let conscience be your armour, And truth be your crest, And in the crucial hour, You’ll stand the hardest test. ELEANOR C. WALSH, ’25.