Hartford Public High School - Classbook Yearbook (Hartford, CT)

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L.. 286 THE CHRONICLE of 1915 is the greatest, in all respects, that has ever graduated from the Hertford Public High School, and that to all appearances, it will re- tain its supremacy among graduating classes to come. They say that 'the history of a soldier's wound beguiles the pain of it.' I must admit that I have been sorely afflicted by the haunt- ing realization of 1915's superiority, that I have been 'touched and grieved' by the possible doubts of the world at large as to the correct- ness of such an opinion. Consequently, I have done my best to guard against such hesitancy, and to compel every man to share my con- victions, if these attempts, poor as they are, can be of any help to that class as recommendations, my work has not been in vai11. My only regret is that I have but one hand to devote to writing its praises. Of course, next year it will be the duty of the Senior Class, and of its historians especially, to outdo 19115 in blowing, whether it can be done safely, justly, and without criticism or not-and every grad- uating class after that will have to boast a little more and puff a little harder than the preceding one. It is altogether fitting, then, that in conclusion I should leave for the benefit of the undergraduates a homely bit of advice: not to cast any reflections or desecrations o11 this dearly departed class-which they could, with perfect safety, use as a model for their future thought and deed. And, copying in part the phraseology of the greatest speech of one of the greatest men of all time, I would suggest that they adopt this resolution, applying it as seems best, to themselves, to their school, and to the Class of 1915. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the under- graduates, rather to devote ourselves here to the unfinished work which they who struggled here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to here concentrate ourselves to the great task re- maining before us, that from these honored graduates we take in- creased devotion to that school for which they showed the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that these graduates shall not have worked in vain: that this school, under their example, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that the memory of the work of that Class, by that Class, and for that Class, shall not perish from the earth. MARION T. KOFSKY, RICHARD W. GRISWOLD.

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THE CHRONICLE 285 flourished under Senior authorship and Senior editorship as it never has flourished before. The War News Club has been founded by Seniors and for Seniors, to discuss intelligently, if possible, the aspects of the conflict which they term the 'European situation,' and to neutralize whatever sentiments may exist in the breasts of the students. Never before, perhaps, has the patriotism of a graduating class been so cvident-they tell me that this is thevfirst for some years to even at- tempt to raise a Hag, especially a purple and yellow-excuse me, a purple and buff-one, and never before, positively, has a class had so much cause to be patriotic. I have shown you how this Class of 1915, entering the Hertford lfligh on that fine September afternoon years and years-no, only four-ago, at first as Freshmen, or rather as Fourth Class pupils, as they preferred to be called then, numbering one less than seven hundred-the largest class that had ever entered up to that time, how it has swept through this institution, carrying away in its grasp honors, records, and traditions. I have shown you how, coming down through the ages, this mighty river, beset everywhere with dams, and islands, and all sorts of stiffish obstacles-it has overcome them all, and has rolled on in grandeur to its victorious outlet. The class is now at the point where it merges and is lost in the great wide ocean of Life-lost ?-but even though indistinguishable in itself, won't that salty sea be clarified, and sweetened, and purified, in some measure, by the freshness, the vigor, and the variety of such an addition? You may say that there are hundreds of such streams emptying into that same ocea11 at this very moment. But how many of them come from such a pure spring as the H. P. H. S.? How many of them will, on analysis, reveal themselves ninety-nine a11d forty-four o11e hundredths per cent. pure, turning the wheels of scholarship, of athletics, of music, and of art, yet retaining their untaintedness throughout the course? Truly, is it not most extraordinary? From my viewpoint, that of a disinterested, but at the same time an interested spectator, it is the best ever-and such a viewpoint should not be disdained. Indeed, in my mind, the magnitude of the question, Zllld the certainty of its answer, is such that I think if submitted to the heads of the warring nations, they would lose themselves in the consideration and the settlement of it. For they could not help but agree, and indeed, come to peace, on the proposition that the Class

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THE CHRONICLE 287 THE CLASS PROPHECY Part I 1' AST Wednesday morning, at fifty-nine minutes and twenty seconds past ten, I was standing before the noble edifice which even now shelters my head. It was necessary for me to ride dow11 to the police station, so I looked for a jitney. Soon I saw a huge, new, shining Ford approaching, driven by an exceedingly handsome chauffeur dressed to match the car. Ile stopped at my signal and I climbed gracefully in, then the driver opened the throttle and we shot into space at a rate which must have been nearly six miles an hour. In scarcely a second we were hurled under the bridge and by the park, but then with a terrible crash which has echoed through the bare, empty passages of my brain ever since, with a noise like the impact between the Titanic and the iceberg, the Ford hit a banana wagon! Out of the wreckage of bananas and tin I shot skyward. Up, up, up I went dizzily and then fell back into absolute blackness. When the blackness cleared a little, I found myself sitting on the soft asphalt, with a large crowd standing around laughing at something. From my recumbent position I could not see the joke, so I haughtily arose and made my way to the sidewalk. I found myself in front of the drug store of Hartford's magnificent new hotel, so I thought I would go in and see what new varieties of college ices they had. But when I saw myself in the soda-fountain mirror I shrieked, for in all my life I never saw anything so out of style as my clothes! All about me were women dressed in such startlingly mannish costumes that at first I had mistaken them for men. I thought I must have gone crazy, so I stepped up to the nearest clerk and asked him how long women had been wearing these styles. What styles? he asked, in surprise. They've been dressing this way since 1918.9 1918 ! I cried. Why, what year is this F 1925, of course, he answered very suspiciously, and turned to wait on a customer. I was too surprised to speak, but my thoughts were soon interrupted by a loud burst of laughter, and looking around