Framingham State University - Dial Yearbook (Framingham, MA)

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15 the school-house even as the children of a by-gone time had wandered after the Pied Piper. Their childish laughter and bright faces seemed a fitting part of the June day. At the bottom of the hill they parted, each with backward looks. When Miss Wade reached the tall pine at the top of the hill she turned, gazing down into the valley below. Her hands were full to over- flowing with sticky little treasures, her arms laden with a bunch of wild Bowers the color of her hair. There stood the little school house with its brave new flag floating above it and there was the river lazily flowing by it. This was all dear and familiar to her. What was to come in the future, she could not tell, but as she leaned against the rough pine she said softly to herself: In l..ife's eamest battle They only prevail, Who daily march onward, And never say fail. Fifi A La Doner Heads up, feet flat, Your curves don't slight, One, two, one two, Think, as you write. Back straight, wrist up, By work you grow One, two, one, two, Right slant, you know Lines light, lines light, Please make no sound, Good curves, that's right, Round, round, round. Wdte, seniors, write, The minutes fly. And 'twill be luncheon, By and by. But teach the youth, Of this broad land, To neatly write, In a business hand. ONE. OF THE PUPIL5.

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14 ward that she straightened herself. An old motto of her childhood came back to her, so plainly that it seemed as though it must be a human voice saying: In Life's earnest battle They only prevail, Who daily march onward, And never say fail. I will not say fail, she said, as though in answer to that unseen voice. VVhat would our principal think of me. Here I am at Podunk, district No. I I, and instead of looking on the bright side, I am dissolved in tears! It was a very courageous little schoolma'am, who later mounted the hill toward her humble abode, firmly resolved to do her duty, but hoping against hope that for once Mrs. Hopkins had forgotten to dip into the salt pork barrel for their evening meal. It was the last day of school. The little low ceilinged room was fairly flooded with sunshine. Miss Wade placed a vase of flowers upon her desk, then stopped a moment to look about her. A sudden wave of thankfulness came over her. Oh, can this be the same school-room that first greeted my eyes a few short months ago? she exclaimed. There were the same worn blackboards and tiny seats, to be sure, but they had come to spell home to her. In the midst of her reflections the door gave a preparatory squeak, then opened to admit the scholars. Goodmornin', Miss Wade, they cried as onefman. Goodmornin', came from a shy little girl behind. The bell rang and school began. How still it seemed! The chil- dren knew that Miss Wade was going to the city the next year. She had told them so only the day before and had said that she did not wish to leave them, but must earn more money, so that she might send her little sister through school. Scratch, scratch, went the pencils. Tick tock, solemnly said the old clock, tick tock. I-le seemed to know all about it and said, as his pendulum swung: Going away, last day. ' The hours passed rapidly and soon school was over. The children thronged about Miss Wade to say goodbye. As she talked with them she noted the brushed hair, the neatly, if awkwardly arranged neckties and above all the clean aprons. Clean aprons would have been a miracle at Podunk, nine short months ago-day after day, week after week, she had followed the increase of neatness among the children-their evident desire for better things. How proud she was of them. They had brought her gifts, fished from the depths of well laden trousers' pockets, or hoarded in the secret pockets of gingham dresses. Une little fellow gave her a bunch of yellow feathery bloom J est the color of teacher's hair. And looking upon the rough little faces of the girls and boys, whom she had helped to make happy, a sudden mist came over her eyes and the Goodbye, Miss Wade, sounded faint and far away. They followed her out of

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16 An H. A. Field Day I F any one had been going by the foot of State Street about eight o'clock in the morning on November IS, l909, they would have wondered what that crowd of girls were waiting there for. Upon inquiry they would have found that they were on their way to Boston to visit the Sunshine Bis- cuit Factory, Walker Gordon Laboratory, and Walker Gordon Farm at Charles River Village. We left on the eight o'clock car and arrived in Boston soon after nine, going straight to the office of the factory, at the corner of Canal and Wash- ington Streets, where we met Mr. Howe who was in charge of the trip. After removing our wraps, we were divided into two groups of about twelve. The first group went through the factory with a guide to explain all the processes of manufactureg the second started five minutes later with a guide and Mr. Howe. We were the lucky group as was discovered afterwards. The first room that we visited was the room where the doughs were mixed. Large, wooden, oval tubs were used for this, into which was poured the proper amount of Hour and water fthe latter measured by meter., Then these tubs were pushed under a machine which had three mixers, like an ice cream dasher, that revolved by electricity. After being mixed the tubs were pushed into' an adjoining room where they were covered with cloths and left to rise for varying lengths of time. From this room we passed through a hallway into the big room where the? rolling machine and ovens were. I-lere we saw and had explained to us the machines for rolling out and cutting the dough for the different crackers, such as animal, graham, soda biscuit and butter thins. Xve watched the bakers fill the sheets of the ferris wheel in the oven with their wooden shovels. They worked rapidly, neatly, skillfully and precisely. We were told in the beginning that we could help ourselves to anything we saw if it was not in a weighed tin, and thereby hangs a tale. From here we went to the sorting and packing rooms. The sheets of crackers taken from the oven were put on an endless chain elevator and lowered to this room where they slid over a rotating surface the sorters rapidly selecting and packing the perfect ones and putting them in boxes. ln a neighboring room we saw some of the fancy crackers being dipped in chocolate and other frostings, drained and then put on large carriers and taken to the drying rooms. We also saw the way the cocoa- nuts were tapped, paired and shredded, the latter done by a machine similar to a meat chopper. Next we watched the boxes being weighed, sealed, wrapped and sealed again. Also the opening of the boxes of stale crackers and the pro- cess of grinding them into powder to be used as chicken feed and in dog bread.