Immaculata Academy - Lilium Convallium Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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--if i LIITIIJM CONVALLIUM 23 Class Will We, the Class of 1926, of Immaculata Academy, in the County of Multnomah, and the State of Oregon, being about to pass out of this sphere of education, in full possession of a crammed mind, a well-loaded memory, and a prodigious power of understanding, do make, ordain, and publish this our last will and testament. First: To our beloved teachers we give our sincere gratefulness, and lasting memory. We also bequeath to them the extraordinary knowledge and startling information that we have furnished them from time to time in our various recitations and examinations. Secondly: To the freshmen we bequeath our good nature. It will enable them to bear the taunts which they are heir to. Thirdly: To the sophomores we leave our senior dignity. They need it. Fourthly: To the juniors we bequeath the use of our class room, pro- vided they are as generous with it as we were. We leave to them also the privilege of holding private class meetings at the noon hour. Fifthly: To next year's seniors we will our private lunch room, which is not yet worn by frequent use. We have chosen to take with us the sweet memory of our happy high school days. Furthermore, with unparalleled generosity we individually bequeath: I, Mary Barnes, will my mechanical ability to the junior who wishes to possess it. I, Clara Bechtold, do solemnly bequeath my extensive Spanish vocabulary, and my well-thumbed Spanish grammar to Mary Agnes McBride, who will, no doubt, find need for them in her college work. I, Wilma Bechtold, give my prospects of becoming a professional actress to Helen Rothenberger. I, Dorothy Concannon, leave my promptitude in answering the 8:55 bell to anyone lacking the habit of early rising. I, Mildred Corcoran, bequeath to the freshman class the exclusive privilege of some day becoming seniors. I, Mary Curran, will my habit of stuttering to anyone not having an excuse for neglecting her English assignment. I, Madonna Enright, give my calm reserve to the sophomore class to be used during recreation. I, Mary Jane Kane, will my slickcr and golashes to anyone who gets wet in a rain storm. I, Marie Kluge, bequeath my folder to anyone who might call for help during an exam. I, Loretta McCormick, impart my excess knowledge of English to Theresa Heup. I, Josephine McGinley, leave my capability of performing experiments to the next senior who is scientifically inclined. I, Lucille McGoorty, bequeath my chemistry catastrophes to the future chemistry class. I, Margaret Miller, give to the future seniors my information on political topics. I, Mary Niehucser, will my specks to the next senior who has to read Vanity Fair. I, Bernice Noonan, impart my love for physical culture to the junior class.

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22 LILIUM CONVALLIUM In the large office of an Eastern firm I beheld Madonna Enright, who was head typist. She had won great distinction on account of her rare speed. Again the scene changed to a court room in Chicago. Dorothy Concannon was successfully defending her client. I then saw a beautiful farm in Minnesota and on the gate was the sign: Phoebe Wright. Phoebe has reason to be proud of that lovely farm, Adeline remarked happily. The next scene showed an audience spell-bound while a violinist was playing with the soul of a true artist. It was Margaret Srnith. I then had a chance to observe Bernice Noonan, a professor in Willaniette University. She was explaining to her class the value of speaking correct English. Well of all people! I exclaimed as I saw Margaret Miller seated in a rocker surrounded by many little children. She had founded an Orphan's Home in Oregon City. The following scene showed the eighty-third Session of Congress with Dolores Posvar, as Republican floor leader of the Senate. At the Capitol, Margaret Walsh was busy filling the position of Secretary of State. Mary Curran, I saw, was teaching in a little white schoolhouse in southern California. She had been offered a position in the city but she could not resist the call of the country. Mary hasn't changed a bit, has she? said Adeline. I hardly heard what Aedline asked as I was straining every nerve trying to see what Clara Bechtold was doing. Slowly the scene became clearer and I saw her as a surgeon operating on a bee to remove its sting. And lastly, Mildred Corcoran was peering anxiously through a telescope. As a distinguished astronomer, she was gathering facts to prove that Mars IS inhabited. The inventor turned the switch, and all was over. Why, Adeline, I exclaimed, ucongratulations! Of all the marvelous in- ventions, this is the newest and greatest in the history of the world. Surely, Immaculata has every reason to be proud of you, the renowned inventor of radio-vision. Congratulationslv -MARIE KLUGE, 'z6. At dawn of day The little birds say, Come out to play, Be happy and gay. -MARIE KLUGE, 'z6.

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24 LILIUM CONVALLIUM I, Dolores Posvar, give my patent collars and cuffs to the coming fresh- men class. 1 I, Margaret Smith, transfer my privilege of being chauffeur for the Sisters to Julia Finn. g- I, Adeline Vanderbeck, do hereby impart my absolute regard for the law of silence to any junior in need of such. I, Margaret XValsh, leave to Mary Louise Langan, the secret and full privilege of using my method of diet. I, Mary Williams, will the squeak in my desk to anyone who enjoys music. I, Phoebe Wriglmt, bequeath my ready fun and poetic talent to the fresh- men class of next year. Lastly, but only in part, do we bequeath to our successors, in the years to come, our places in the hearts of our teachers and our classmates. In Witness Whereof, we have hereunto subscribed our names and affix our seal, the eighth day of June, in the year of our Lord, One Thousand Nine Hundred and Twenty-six. -THE SENIOR CLASS, 'z6. Light One morning I strode 'long a pathway that led, It seemed, to the sky that was tinged with bright red. Hills in dark majesty nestled quite close To their fleecy cloud pillows, and far off there rose The peak of a mountain, white with new snow, That had fallen so that the black rocks wouldn't show. I stood by a streamlet still longer to gaze At the splendor and beauty that did so amaze Me. The colors of sky, hills and mountain so high Changed to softer and lighter ones, seeming to die And give place to others as beauteous as they, As the first rays of sunlight proclaimed a new day. The sky in the east, now clad in the gold That the sun lent so freely, seemed to enfold The tired dark hills that now could be seen Attired in raiment all shades of green. The clouds, glad to know their night's work was done, Had donned pink sunbonnets and were racing for fun Across a blue sky, and the mountain so grand Kept a protecting vigil over the land. --CATPIERINE STRAUB, 'z8.