Fitchburg High School - Boulder Yearbook (Fitchburg, MA)

Page 17 text:

tening attentively to the speaker, who was vehemently exhorting the audienee to a life of politieal aetivity, and loudly extolling woman’s rights. The speaker was, in truth. Miss Smith, but what a metamorphosis had taken plaee! Her voiee was no longer the seareely audible whisper of the Latin elass, but instead it was loud and elear and reaehed every eorner of the vast auditorium. The seene ehanged. I was now looking upon a seeluded vale. A little brook was merrily rippling along, and among the trees I eould hear the singing of the happy birds. Before me was a house, or rather a eabin, whieh looked as if it were in need of the most thorough repair. Nearly every pane in the two windows was broken and the holes were stuffed with rags or paper. The door was nearly off its hinges and was leaning over against a stone whieh stood for a support. In the doorway sat a man dressed in saekeloth and eovered with ashes. This poor penitent hermit, as he appeared to be, was no other than John Ryan, who to atone for his eleven demerits had thus seeluded himself in this uninhabited spot. I next beheld a wielder of brooms standing in the eorridor ol floor 2, in a heated diseussion with Miss Duft ' ey, who was evi- dently at present “ institutrice de fran ais.” At the beginning of the eontest both seemed to hold equal advantage, but it was soon elear that the woman was the better of the two. Champ- ney, for it was he, Anally spoke only in short gasps and in flve minutes relapsed wholly into silenee. The protoseope is again turned on. The seene is in the eourt house, and the eounsel for the defense, John MeCarthy, has just risen for his final effort. Argument after argument follows in quiek succession. No point is lost. The judge, jury, and speeta- tors are alike spellbound. The prisoner on trial for plagiarism is one of these literary looking individuals, who are eontinually run- ning their fingers through their hair, presumably to stir up thoughts. As I observed him earefull} the old familiar features of Russell Walker seemed to take shape. I eould hardly believe that Wellington was judge and that Harold Chandler was the plaintiff, now beeome eelebrated for his talent in turning out verse both pathetie and sentimental. His eounsel, Leslie Mossman, was doing his best, but luek apparently was not on his side. After this came a polar scene. In the background the Aurora 15

Page 16 text:

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

Page 18 text:

Horcalis was brightcMiin up the dreary ])()lar ni ht with her brilliant flashes of golden lij ht. Contrasting sharply with this warinthful glow, there were lined up against the horizon eold and dreary mountains of iee. In the foreground was a granite monu- ment and two flags waving above it. One was the flag of our eountry and the other the flag of our elass. These two had never fluttered in the breeze together before. I read the following inseription upon the monument: This is the exact location of the North Pole. Discovered by the Shanks Expedition, Au , ust 23, 1918. We were the first that ever burst Into this silent sea. W. R. Shanks, Captain. G. N. Anderson, First Lieutenant. Dr. Harlow, Scientist. Foster, Trapper. Neylon, J. V. Keating, E. O. Andrews. I next saw the assembh hall gorgeously decorated with bunt- ing and flowers and the seats packed with an eager crowd of students. The principal, William Keating, had just seated him- self after announcing that Signor Madogain, the celebrated Italian artist, would sing. Presently he appeared in full dress, accompa- nied b ' the pianist. Mademoiselle Helene Peirce, as it was announced. She seated herself at the piano and began to pla} the prelude. Signor Madogain cleared his throat and then began to sing in a deep bass voice such as I had never heard before, but as nearh as I could describe it, it sounded like the distant rum- bling of thunder. I next saw myself before a circus tent. Newcomb was perched upon a high stool, cr dng out in his thundering voice “Right this way, ladies and gents! Here 3 311 get 3 our tickets for the show. OnH half a dollar to see all the wonders of the world; children half fare.” The inside of the tent then came before m3 C3 es. All around were the freaks in attitudes best adapted to displa3 their eccen- 16