Fitchburg High School - Boulder Yearbook (Fitchburg, MA)

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It was one o’clock. The last bell had just rung. I was pre- paring to leave the building when Professor ()l3ear handed me a note as I was going out of the door. The paper contained only these words, “ Meet me at door 3, 7 p. m. to-night.” That was all. I was surprised and perplexed. Why should he want to see me at such an unheard-of hour? Perhaps I had committed some misdeed or perhaps I was backward in my lessons. But no ; th£it was too improbable. I could come to no conclusion. I hastened home. I thought of nothing but the mysterious note. The hours dragged on like days, and it seemed as if seven would never come. At last I heard the whistles blow. It was six o’clock. I ate my supper and hurried to school. I was early, but finally Mr. Obear appeared and opened the door. His countenance betrayed not the slightest emotion, and not a single clue to the cause of this singular appointment did I obtain. ‘‘I haven’t done anything, really, Mr. Obear!” I cried. “Please come up stairs with me,” he said quietly. I followed him up two flights to the fourth floor and into the dark room just at the right of the stairway. He pressed a but- ton and immediately the apartment was brilliantly illuminated by an electric light. In a corner of the room stood a workman’s bench covered with tools and appliances of various sorts. Behind it was a shelf filled with bottles containing chemicals. Close to the bench was a large something, which resembled a telescope. Seeing me looking inquiringly at it the professor said: “This is what I have brought you up to see. Now I will com- mence at the beginning and call to your notice some of the pecu- liar chemical properties of Polonium and Actinium, of which I have taken advantage in producing this instrument.” Then he 13

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Not a few incidents we must leave without recording, among tliem being the Valentine party, Gardner reception, Mr. Obear’s marriage, Mr. Vosburg’s arrival and po])ularity, the day that We were chosen, and last and by far not the least, the destruction of eit ' hall. Adieu, poor little misguided Undergraduates, accept this timclv advice: Follow in our footste])s and you will all win glory and success. 12

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gave me a detailed aeeount of his invention, half of whieh I did not understand, but I gathered enough to know its elaim to be ealled a “ protoscope,” as its object was to ])resent in a moving series of pictures a future aspect to any subject or person — in short, a veritable fortune teller. “Now, then,” he continued, “look through the glass and you will see in a series of pictures your classmates as they will appear sixteen years hence.” The first picture whieh came before me was a schoolroom. A teacher sat before his class, 3 ' oung and handsome. His hair was decidedly auburn, and his well-waxed mustache, of which he seemed very proud, he was industriously training in the way it should go. Instead of teaching the lesson, he was “cracking” jokes, while his pupils, not so much because thc3 ' were amused, but more because they wished to flatter him, were laughing uproariously. In fact he was the very image of our beloved Cobb. But the name which appeared upon the picture was that of Har- old King. My next view was the platform of the Fitchburg Rail- road station, on which the figures kept up a moving panorama. On the left was a bootblack stand where an immaculate son of Africa with a diamond shirt-stud flashing into the face of the ope- rator was having a shine. The bootblack was working with great zeal and the result was most pleasing. He seemed to be a good, industrious fellow and I was surprised to see the sign above his establishment, “Porter Lowe — Shine 10 c.” The train drew in and I was interested to see the passengers alight, though with -no expectation of meeting friends. One by one they hurried away. Only a young man was left standing there. He looked around like one lost, and gazed after the depart- ing train as if it were carrying away his last friend. Both hands were full of various impedimenta of travel — umbrella, telescope, suit case, while a number of brown-paper bags were protruding from his several pockets. As he turned around I saw “ Chas. Wilder” written upon his suit case. A policeman came to him in his distress and directed him to a hotel. My next impression was a large hall full of women. Among these I recognized members of m3 class — Misses Roy, Beer, Phelps, Bugbee, Murphy, Quigley, Hawthorne, Benson, McNulty, Blood, Sweeney, Watson, Bolton, Hannon, and O’Brien. They were lis- 14