Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

Text from Pages 1 - 32 of the 1919 volume:

Ipswich Opera House PICK OF THE PICTURES PROGRAM Monday WORLD FEATURE SERIAL VOD-A-VIL MOVIES KINOGRAMS Tuesday PARAMOUNT FEATURE PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE FOX COMEDY FORD WEEKLY Wednesday . FOX FEATURE BIG V POPPY COMEDIES SCREEN MAGAZINE Thursday METRO FEATURE SERIAL KINOGRAMS Friday PARAMOUNT FEATURE LLOYD FEATURE Saturday OUTING— CHESTER PARAMOUNT FEATURE TRAVELOGUE ARBUCKLE SENNETT COMEDIES MATINEE— TUESDAY (During July Aug.) SATURDAYS AT 2.30. EVERY EVENING 6.45 8.30. Automobile Sundries of All Kinds. Gasoline, Oils and Greases MAYER PORTER GARAGE All Kinds of Automobile Repairs Done in a First Class Manner Car To Let By Hour, Day or Week Telephone 226 4 MANNING STREET, IPSWICH, MASS. Mill Work to Order CANNEY LUMBER COMPANY Roofing Nails, Wallboards, Paint and Tylike Shingles 25 BROWN SQUARE Tel. 124-W 124-R NEW GOODS We may not be the nearest Druggist to you but will try to come the nearest to pleasing you. Angus Savory, pharmacist Odd Fellows Building, Ipswich, Mass. Rompers Bandoes Madras Waists Neckwear Percales COMPLIMENTS OF G. H. W. HAYES HILLER CO. IPSWICH and ANDOVER mm STATIONERY The Latest in Style and Colors QUALITY the BEST PRICES the LOWEST You are cordially invited to call and inspect our line BRAINARD J. CONLEY fHjarmariBt 6 Doors South of Post Office. IPSWICH, MASS. IPSWICH NEWS CO. Cigars, Cigarettes and Tobacco. Papers, Periodicals, Post Cards and Stationery. 12 MARKET ST., Tel. Conn. ww WWW WWW WWW WWW oooooooooooooo HELEN BRADSTREET TITCOMB CO. Provisions Hastes’ perialig tnre The Store That Gives Values iiiiiiHimiiiiiiiiiii t 2 UNION ST., IPSWICH, MASS. HiUtorg MARKET STREET IPSWICH j 7 w W W W W W i W w W WWW ooooooooooo THE TIGER Vol. I. IPSWICH, MASS, JUNE, 1919 No. 2 EDITORIAL STAFF. Editor-in-chief, LUCY BAILEY, ’19. Assistant Editor, GEORGIA REID, ’19. Business Manager, I1ILDRED DAVIS, ’19. Assistant Business Manager, ALTIIEA IlAYES, ’19. LITERARY EDITORS : Ethelinda Tucker, ’19 Edith Spyut, ’19 Howard Doughty, ’21 Sporting, Social, and Alumni Editor Myrtle Goddit, ’19 Exchange Editor William Tucker, ’19 Class Reporters j Cora Benedix, ’19 Mary Gordon, ’20 Dorothy Hall, ’21 Katherine Reddy, ’21 Julia Doughty, ’22 SALUTATORY A Stone in the House of Life To the school committee, superintend- ent, principal, teachers, to friends, rel- atives, and to all here this evening, we, the class of 1919, wish to extend our heartiest welcome to our graduation which is one of the greatest events in our lives. With colors that never fade will this evening be painted upon our memories and remain there eternally. Never, regardless of how great the storm and wind may rage, will thart work of numerous years be washed from our thoughts. In time uf desolation and oppression we shall be consoled by the ashes of the fiery glory which we are thrown into to-night. Friends — we have come together this evening, not only to celebrate the successful termination of our High School career, but to unveil the cor- ner stone which has taken us so many la- borious days to carve into its present form. As we let our memory float back to the dawn of our school course, we can distinct- ly remember how hopelessly we glanced forth into the pathless way to success. Like a helpless ship on an agitated sea, we battled with strong minds against so- cial pleasures in order that we might im- pel a path through the dense mist before us. Clutching the wheel of time we slow- ly directed our course to the results of this evening. Many a tale we hear to-day of how bravely oor boys went through the firing line, ready to give up their very lives, every thing, for their country. Be- fore them these lads saw more than Huns and shot and shell. Illuminated, like Diana on a cold, dark night in the sky, was that wonderful corner stone of the temple of peace. Likewise we toiled vigorously. Many times our hands went up in despair and hate crept into our hearts. How often during the midst of the battle our only dangerous thought was, “Give Up!” But no — ' before us through the gloom and shadow of the night we saw the reward which w as patiently awaiting our coming. At the time of Columbus, Cabot, and Magellan, a timid little acorn fell to the earth. From that wee seed a powerful oak tree developed. To-day it reigns above all other trees. Every limb stretches up into the sky each seeming to want to grasp the bright sun in its twigs. It is among mother nature’s most perfect children. In like manner each in our class started con- structing his house of life. Each tried to construct his as well as he could. Thus as an army we marched in triumph to find success. Discouragement and melancholy will be ready to greet us at every turn, but Ave hope the aim is high enough to keep us all from hesitating and probably falling from the straight path. If by chance one of our army falls to the roadside we hope that the ideal of our class will be strong enough in him to start him forth again on the road of prosperity. This eA ening each member of 1919 is laying the corner stone of his house of life. When we separate Ave must all enter the dark future alone. Let us all hope that each will erect the tower of his house with the same earnestness and ability with which he laid the foundation. Again friends Ave stretch our hands out to you to shoAv our appreciation of your presence. May in years to come Hebe, the goddess of youth, have mercy on us and condescend to let us once more meet in this same youthful spirit. And, you my class mates, who have been so near to me for many years, do not grieve at this part- ing for it is a moment of joy croAvned with a sigh. 2 CORA BENEDIX, ’19. CLASS HISTORY How well I remember that day! Nine- ty-seven we stood, as a whole to be auc- tioned off to the highest bidder. Our num- ber was great, but; our size was small, in- deed. Girls in short dresses with pig-tails down their backs! Boys in short pants, and their hair neatly parted by their fond and adoring mamas on that eventful morning ! A very unprepossessing bunch, but for all that WE were the future Fresh- men of the Manning High School. There we stood, waiting for the bidders to ap- pear, on that heap of clay and mud at the side of the High School, which once we hoped to use for a skating rink. But w ' e waited in vain for no bidders appeared, and so at last Mr. Marston, our adored principal, came out and said that he ' d consider us as future Freshmen, if he could buy Georgie Mayes, on account of his size, and have the rest of us thrown in to boot, if we could guarantee that we ’d all be the same as Georgie at the end of four years. Of course, we said we’d try, and since that time we have diminished — in number not in size — as Georgie can still testify. And so we, ninety-seven poor soared rabbits, were admitted as Freshmen, but we were the greenest of green, the most verdant of Freshmen, and many were our experiences as such. We were totally ignored by the Seniors, looked down on by the juniors, and snubbed by the Sophomores. We lived through it all, however, even though our roots still had a tendency to linger over in the grammar school. So now, you see before you the cream of the last four years’ school work, the Senior Class. Our motto is, “Get out of as much work as you can, cut, skip periods, anything at all, on- ly don’t work too hard!” George Mayes, still our leader, has been the best example we could follow. He’s great as to breadth, saintly in disposition, and the best slacker at work you ever have seen. He couldn’t be beaten in Eng- lish, that is, at not knowing anything, for whenever we’d hear that despised, “What is the meaning of this next passage in your words, Mayes?” we’d just as surely hear George’s, “I dunno.” His best accomplice at skinning out of anything was Sammie Gordon. Now, Sammie, is the nicest boy imaginable, but he’s also the slipperiest. He was ‘ 1 Slippery Slim ’ ’ the second. His chief hobby was to cut Spanish, and if anyone should ask, “Where’s Gordon?” “Aw — he’s absent!” would sing out Aut Caverly, but we all knew that Sammie was matching pennies somewhere, and more of- ten than not Aut Caverly was with him. We did other things besides skipping classes. We became great hair dressers. Althea Hayes set the pace, and we — all followed! If we wanted some new style for our hair, we’d patiently wait with baited breath for her next sunbeam of new style hairdressing, and then it w T ould appear (the hair, I mean.) and A1 would burst out : “My dear, can you imagine it!” Then that swjeet, but adorable, Toot Davis would chime : “Say Al, Where did you get it?” but it was no sooner out of Toot’s mouth than Lucy Bailey would say : “Aw, Toot, you joy-killer. Don’t you suppose we want to know something about the newest way to do up our amber locks?” You see, Lucy had just been imbibing rather freely of Milton. Lucy has become so used to riding in a flivver that her mind has become deranged and taken a poetical twist. Then from the back of the room would come a faint, yet persistent buzz, which would at last merge into, “As idle as a painted ship, upon a painted ocean” Cora Benedix — talking about herself ! Toot and Cora just simply 3 hate to leave school this year. We all wonder why. During such crucial periods as hair- dressing, skipping periods, and gradually, year by year, becoming Seniors, we needed a navigator, and we found an able one in Myrtle Goditt. Myrtle has been greatly interested in the sea for some time past, and has studied expensively all the differ- ent elements, of the Atlantic Ocean, in particular. “There’s no doubt about it,” says Myr- tle, “the sea’s a great place.” We have often wondered which part of it she meant, whether it was Davy Jones’ locker, or something up above. So — after a great deal of investigation on the part of the class detective, namely Spen King, also our honorable class president, we decided it must be something up above. Spen is slow, but Spen is sure, and at last he re- ported that her interest was mainly in ships. No further investigation was need- ed on Spen’s part. As I have said before, we have dimin- ished during the four years, but we have also added on. Bill and Ethelinda Tucker were part of our addition. Now — Ethelin- da is sweet and charming, rather slow in movement, but as for Bill you couldn’t get a speedier. Bill is handsome, strong, and the biggest flirt you ever saw. As Bill says : ‘ ‘ Classes may come, and classes may go, but I go on forever!” Pie’s right. But Bill isn’t in it with Cleon. Cleon is our greatest addition. We couldn’t have got a better. Though he is long and lanky, he’s the flower of a girl’s heart. Cleon, in a description of himself just said : ‘ Life is one darned thing after another. As you see it.” (meaning himself.) But for out and out deviltry there ’s none better than Clara Davison. Her lessons were nothing her appearance little more, but for a jolly good fellow, — she’s there! Clara would grin, and laugh, and smile, look at the pictures on the wall, and when Clara was kicked out she didn’t care, for Gladys Brown stood by and did her share. Of course, in a class like ours, there’s al- ways one in a class by himself and in our case, it’s Chester Anthony. “Simple” he’s called, and it fits to a “T.” He looks sim- ple, he acts simple, he talks simple, and he’s simple all over. He’s the best of flirts, and particularly fond of the Rowley school teachers. He can win everytime, but when it comes to conversation, all Jake can say is : “Oh, how I hate to get up in the morn- ing.” Pie admits he’s rather lazy, especially in English, and his exact counterpart is Douglas Jewett. Douglas has always been a great charmer with the ladies, but that didn’t hinder him from breaking windows and throwing erasers. It’s very funny how really childish the Seniors are!!!??? But even Cleon has put an eraser through one of the glass doors, so Douglas needn’t worry, and as for Aut Oaverly, he’s bro- ken half a dozen, but then, Aut’s one of our star hockey players, and he’s strong on arguing, so he always manages to slide out. “Slippery Slim” number three. But as everyone knows, even in a poor miserable bunch like we are, there is al- ways; an angel, and in our midst we have a pair of the largest white wings imagin- able on our small and adorable Thelma Damon. Thelma is curly-haired, gentle, and sweet, and the leader of fashion in sweaters. In direct contrast to Thelma is Susie Dewar, the class pepper box. Susie doesn’t care what she says. Out it comes and that ’s the end of it. There are some in our class who are demure and shy. They’ve said very little but they’ve thought much and all stood back and done their best. They are Bes- 4 sie Chapman, the meek; Elsie Jones, the slow and stately : Edith Spyut, the scholar : Marion Phillips, the easy-going ; Emily Hobart, the ready tongue ; and Ella O’Brien. Ella is popular, no matter where, for she charms all with her winning ways. But Ella was nothing compared with Peg Iieilly. Peg is stout, and big, and husky, and can marshall us all in straight array, and if HE didn’t obey, all ishe’d say was : “You just wait ! I ’m sore on you ! ’ ’ Last but not least, comes Lucy Sturgis, the last remnant of this singularly fated group of mortals. Lucy is rambuncious and can easily stir up a fight, but for all that, she’s worth knowing and helps one with all her might. Now, after four years of agony, which we have endured like martyrs at the stake, William Tucker— Here ’s to the doctor ’s only son, Whose giving medicine has not yet begun. (Bottle of medicine) Cleon Johnson — To Cleon I’ll give this little lass, Who resembles someone in the Junior Class. (Doll dressed up like Cleola) Chester Anthony — To you I’ll give this funny face, Jake, Exactly like the ones you used to make. (Funny face) George Mayes — Here’s to George Mayes who just loves to shimmy, A partner which he can call Minnie. (Doll) Austin Caverly — Austin Caverly, big and strong, we are once more to be auctioned off to someone in this great world, only now, we stand twenty-seven, instead of ninety- seven. We have undergone all that was most distasteful to us, but now we are leaving with genius unsurpassed which we hold up to our fellow-brethren, the juni- ors. We advise them to make the best of the many advantages offered by the school, -and to uphold their teachers in every way possible. We leave to them the Senior Room, whose desks they will find well marked, and though after all our suf- ferings, we are weak, wabbly creatures, (some have termed us “insects”) still we, the remaining twenty-seven stand united for the good of the school, and as a shin- ing light to all who may look upon us. GEORGIA REID, ’19. To you I’ll present this little song. (Song — “Everything is peaches down in Georgia.”) Douglass Jewett — Douglass, the hero will win a great name, And will surely possess dramatic fame, Here’s a little powder and a little paint, To make him look just what he aint. (Powder and Paint) Samuel Gordon — Sam, Sam the gardener’s son, Stole some chalk and away he run, But Miss Cole was in her seat, And thus poor Sam was beat. (Small box of chalk) Spencer King — I’ll present this little mule at last, To the President of our Senior Class. (Mule) Presentation of Gifts — CLARICE M. DAVISON, ’19. 5 THE GIFT OF A FRIEND. A friend of mine was in town tihe other day. He is stricken with that very seri- ous malady known as “Girlitus.” One of the characteristic symptoms of this disease, is extreme curiosity in re- spect to the girl population of the town which one visits. At the time my friend was visiting me I was not so wise as I am now. Consequently, I let that poor, strick- en friend of mine go to town, on a Satur- day afternoon, with no person to guard him against the temptation of his disease. That poor, misguided, stricken gentle- man went astray, and of course, the main attraction was in dresses. The High School ball team was valiantly trying to hold its own, that afternoon at the ball grounds, and the feminine support was strong. Little did the lady rooters suspect that directly opposite them was this specimen of girl sickness, for he had followed the crowd, and had eagerly planted himself in a grand stand seat so far as our High School beauties were concerned. I came home from work that night and unsuspectingly asked Iioav the game came out. It was all my fault, I should have known better, but I was new to the di- sease, and had never seen it before. God help me ! I don’t ever want to see it again. His answer as to the result of the game was very hazy, but Great Gats! I had opened the spigot so far as questions were concerned, for he asked me about each girl in the senior class. It seems he had sat beside George Mayes, and George had pointed them out to him one by one. It was a case of, “Let George do it,” and George had done it, and had done it brown. You can’t treat your guests always as you would like to, otherwise I should have tried to break my trusty bat upon his head. For the next hour the conversation be- tween us had two forms of sentences, ex- planatory ones from myself and wholly interrogative from him. This did not end the episode however, for on the morning he left he brought a student’s bag full of small packages to me, and asked me to give the package to the person whose name was marked upon it. Aloud I said, “Certainly,” inwardly I said to myself, “You poor fool.” To-night I am going to give you these things he left. Georgia Reed is full of fun so let her brighten up the corners with the contents of this small box. Thelma Damon may powder her way through life, by using this little puff. Aunt Amelia’s quart of powder may give out, but there is lots more where this came from. Althea Hayes as Mrs. B. did not even have as good a biscuit as this in the pan- try. I hope Gladys Brown’s friend in Kit- tery, Me., will not wait until the hands of this wrist watch go around before com- ing to see her. Perhaps Hildred Davis can get a little closer to Douglas than she did in the play if they walk together under this parasol. Myrtle Goddit likes autos of all kinds, even Jimmie’s flivver, so I will give her a regular car. Margaret Reilly is hoping to get a slightly better ring than this from John Conley, I think. Anyway that’s the way it looks from the outside. Clara Dawson has got to bring a num- ber of packages for those “awful boys,” so I have taken pity on her and my friend is giving her a string bag. We all know that Lucy Sturgis is music - ,6 ally inclined, but we pity the neighbors when she starts on this fife. The mighty brained Valedictorian will surely need this small pencil to write her valued thoughts. Jane the cook certainly raised the dust on the Town Hall stage so that even the curtain came down after her. My friend hopes that we will all beware when Cora starts in with this mammoth broom. Bessie Chapman is a long distance from everybody, so as all women like to talk I have pitied her and seen that her present was a talking ma chine. E. Tucker’s highest aspirations seem to come in plain gold from the medical school. I hope this band will console her for the time. Marion Phillips is often seen walking on Central Street. May she put what she is after in this ponderous basket. Every country girl is brought in close connection Avith the chickens, but Susie Dewar’s flock is incomplete without a rooster. Ella 0 ’Brien is very busy fishing in the stream of life. I hope she succeeds in landing what she hooks, but I am afraid this line will not be strong enough. Elsie Jones has a hard time trying to find room for her face in the school mir- rors, so I have found one for her very own. Emily Hobart enjoys military affairs, but the best I could do was to find a sailor for her. CLEON JOHNSON, ’19. Presentation of Class G-ifts. AFTER THE WHIRLWIND THE STILL SMALL VOICE At last the whirlwind is over and once more peace reigns over the earth. Once more the supreme hand of justice has lent guidance to the righteous. Once more it has been proved that might is not right. Now once again the sun can rise and set on nations whose main purpose is not to kill, but to lend a helping hand to the civilization of mankind, wjhieh is ever surging ahead, in its evolutionary course. Mankind is once again looking forward to something better, something higher, is working to attain some more lofty ideal. But at what a terrific cost have these great achievements been accomplished ! Not only financially and socially were they dearly purchased, but also at the ex- pense of a vast river of human lives. Let us slowly and sadly turn back the pages of history, so that we can more fully re- alize and understand the circumstances and conditions under which these achieve- ments Avere made, so that our imagination will paint life-like pictures of these past situations and add neAV vigor and life to our patriotism and devotion. On the 4th of July, 1776, fifty-six men signed the declaration which separated us from the bonds and shackles of England and made us a free and independanit na- tion. A nation that might govern itself according to principles of justice and lib- erty, a nation that might govern itself ac- cording to its OAvn inspirations and ideals, and not according to the Avishes of a croAvned head three thousand miles aAvay! Thus, the founders of this nation were seeking justice, liberty, and self govern- ment. How our imagination thrills us when Ave think of Paul Revere and his famous ride and The Boston Tea Party, Avhioh marked the resentment of a people to unjust taxation; “taxation Avithout rep- resentation.” These and similar events marked the beginning of the Revolution. The war was Avaged, and seven years later Ave emerged victorious, a new na- tion on God’s earth, one destined to be- 7 come great among the nations of the earth. The country was prosperous and the nation steadily grew, without any serious difficulties, until in 1812 England again tried the spirit and strength of America. This time it was a war on the sea. British ships seized American ships and seamen on the high seas. But we soon taught Great Britain a new lesson : namely, that justice and liberty reign, not only on the land, but on the sea as well. How well we remember Perry’s words on Lake Erie : “We have met the enemy and they are ours.’’ Our blood seems to flow faster in our veins as we imagine the tone and cir- cumstances under which these commemor- able words were spoken. Again we em- erged the victors, and this time we had the freedom both of land and of sea. We again started on a journey of suc- cess and advancement. We had eight times our original population, were stead- ily gaining in area and abounded in wealth. We had grown from a few states to a large and prosperous nation. No other country has had such a quick and widespread development. We Avere involved in no national dif- ficulties until in 1861 it became a question of whether or not the ' blackmail should have his freedom and obtain an equal standing with the whites. Another con- flict was the result and this time it was a great civil war. Again right was victori- ous, and in 1863, our beloved Abraham Lincoln, by a single stroke of the pen, signed a proclamation that gave over three million men that most privileged and divine right which God gave to every human being, liberty, the right to govern oneself. This was another achievement to add to our ever growing list. It Avas an eAent AAhich marked the pages of Amer- ican history, and a cause for AAhich many men laid doAA T n their lh r es. It established equal rights among men, regardless of creed or color. Noav again in 1919 we stand on the threshold of a neAv period in the develop- ment of our nation. We have just been engaged in one of the greatest conflicts that the world has CA er knoAAm. We have battled, not nation against nation, but nations against na- tions. We have fought not for our oAvn honor and glory, but for the freedom of the AAWld, to keep sacred these undying Acords of Lincoln, that, “All men are cre- ated equal,’’ with natural rights to the pursuit of happiness and of liberty. This time it Avas not a question of na- tional rights, of national freedom, for lib- erty and righteousness. Germany Avith her greedy hand of Autocracy Avas reach- ing out to crush the poAA T ers of Europe. She Avas AA T aging war regardless of interna- tional law. Americans Avere belittled and in suited. We Avere insulted on the high seas in the case of the Lusitania. Avhich had, perhaps, more to do with America’s entry into the Avar than any other single act. We entered the Avar, sent a seemingly never ending stream of khaki-clad boys across the sea, and to-day many of them sleep on the fields of France. Willingly and cheerfully, as Americans have always given, they gave their all. It is no Avonder AA ' e emerged victorious. It is no AA r onder Ave have the respect and admiration of the countries of Europe. It is to these hon- ored dead, that sleep in Flanders’ Fields that Ave owe all that AA e ha r e to-day. Once more the Avhirlwind is over. Noav let us all listen to the still small voice of duty that is calling us to soh r e the prob- lems of the Reconstruction Period. Let us all resolve that Ave Avill be Americans, with. American ideals and patriotism. Then, I am sure, Ave shall start on one of the most successful journeys that our nation has ever knoAvn. Such eternal troubles as lab- or agitation and social unrest aauII be un- knoAvn. Employer and employee will be A v orking for a common cause, the better- 8 meat of the nation, and reconstruction work will be taken up with new vigor. The immigration question, likewise, demands our immediate attention. Should we be overrun with Japanese under the present draft of the “League of Nations ? ’ ’ Would any foreign element invade our country in such numbers as to produce discomfort ? Should we lose our national independence under a League of Nations? These are a few of the questions that must be dealt with as Americans have always dealt with important situations in the past. Let us listen to the still small voice of duty in this critical period of our national history. Let all of us make national prob- lems and difficulties our own. Let every appeal of our national government sink down deep into the heart of every Amer- ican. Let our motto be “Onward” to ev- erything that is pure and good, so that those who have died in past wars and in this present conflict for the freedom of the world, shall not have died in vain, and that this nation founded on the pu- rest and noblest of principles and main- tained by the purest and noblest of men, shall forever stand for freedom, justice, and Democracy. Class Essay— SPENCER W. KING, ’19. CLASS PROPHECY It was one o’clock when I returned that night. Funny I should have kept such a late hour, no doubt I had been studying. Everything was dark, fearfully dark ! In the distance I could hear the groaning pine trees; behind me the sad lapping waves. A peal of thunder suddenly roared across the heavens. Then a flash of light- ning illumined the world. Whose forms were those on yonder rocks ? I stared, but all grew dark as of yore. Could it be, was it possible? I waited for another flash of lightning. Yes, it was they. My dear old friends : Burke, Johnson, Milton and Shakespeare. I called. With eyes accus- tomed to the unshadowed night they came. “Ah” I cried “Dear friends—” “Go, I pray” cried Shakespeare in a ghastly voice. “Yonder lightning will strike thee! Anything we grant thee if thou goest, thou child of the Muses.” I pondered. “Dear, worthy friends,” I cried sudden- ly. “Only this I ask you. Tell me of my beloved classmates.” Shakespeare turned to his companions. All nodded gravely. Burke began in his steady, straightfor- ward voice : “Heartlessly Althea has turned down her suitors. Five committed suicide, three have gone insane. He who won the much desired prize was an admiral in the navy. ’ ’ “All over the tvorld Austin is renowmed and loved : Caverly the worlds greatest violinist.” “Bessie has been married but — ah — I see her seeking a divorce in the high court of New York.” Milton interrupted — ■ 1 He who made the famous remark, “Don’t be so foolish,” now a grave, studious preacher in yonder Rowley resides.” “Golden crowmed Clarice sought a be- autiful youth. Alas — she failed ! Hov r she dwells in a poppy red house in Dan- vers. ’ ’ “Every joy Cora know r s, for on a light fantastic toe she trips.” “I see Jew ett as the world’s greatest ac- tor, acting in the greatest tragedy ever produced in the sun blessed Rome.” Shakespeare wdiispered : “Fair haired Edith, the most studious of them all, has had three husbands and five sons.” ‘ ‘ Blue eyed Ella longed to be a teacher. Long was the longing, for a teacher she still remains.” 9 “Beautiful Elsie poses for one of the greatest artists in his masterpiece “The lovely Rose.” “Emily’s husband, or in other words, the prize clam digger, is a worthy man, and dear Emily has been blessed with four pair of twins, all honorable children.” Johnson spoke, “Not out of Ipswich did Ethelinda stray. She now pours tea in the Coburn Home.” “George is well employed. A fine sal- ary ho draws, giving lessons on reducing fat.” Georgia has had her voice cultivated, and now sings in the finest operas, and is known as “The Nightingale.” “T’was a terrible deed to kill the man Gladys loved out of wretched jealousy. Now she resides in the county house.” “After teaching five years Hildred’s name suddenly changes. Noav she is Noble for life.” “Alas” moaned Milton, drawing out his kerchief, “the never sarcastic Tozer ias left us. In his place reigns the musical Lucy Sturgis.” “Many were the notes bright-eyed Mar- garet wrote in class. But alas — they were not about my noted works. Of him they were, of a fine wife she makes.” ‘ The ever-loving-to-boss Myrtle, ’ ’ sighed Shakespeare, “lias fulfilled her greatest desire, and her ever-in-terror hus- band’s name rhymes with ‘lame’.” “Samuel has the gravest duty of them all, digging in yonder cemetery.” “As President of Manning faithfully King reigned. Noav Wilson’s place lie is taking in Washington.” “Doavii on a farm hi Maine bright haired Susie dAvells, aivaiting her absent sailor.” “I see Thelma at the age of fifty mar- rying a professor fifteen years her se- nior.” Milton smiles. “Once I longed for the life ever pious William lives; the life of a hermit with no friends but his geese.” Suddenly the spirits vanish, the light- ning and thunder cease and as of yore only the lapping waves and groaning pine trees break the silence of the night. ’ ’ LUCY BAILEY, ’19. AD ASTRA PER ASPERA To the stars through bolts and bars! Aim high ! Yes, high, higher than the tal- lest tree top, higher even than mountain peaks ! Aim for the loftiest object within your vision. “Hitch your Avagon to a star.” If your ideal is placed at such a height, the bolts and bars Avhich obstruct your Avay Avill melt into nothingness and all difficulties will be surmounted. “These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high Come from the influence of an unseen star, An undiscovered planet in our sky.” Plodding along in our daily grind and rising no higher causes unrest and a feel- ing of unAvonthiness. We feel like a caged bird, who beats Avith patient steady toil against the bars of his prison until he suc- ceeds in breaking his bonds. This dis- turbance is occasioned by flashes of the ideal Ave hold securely hidden in our hearts, the ideal which urges us to rise above ourseKes, to burst our bars and struggle to gain the heights. When this strange influence is felt it brightens and illuminates our whole horizon. This striving to rise high is illustrated best in nature. The trees stretch their branches heavenAAiard as if to reach the very sky. The flowers, even the very smallest, hold their tiny heads erect as if proud of their place on earth. Even the 10 Common down-trodden gi asses rise Up to their full height. So it should be with ns, let us raise up o ur heads and reach for the stars! “We have two lives about us Two worlds in which we dwell Within us and without us Alternate Heaven and Hell : — W ithout, the somber Real, Within, our hearts of hearts, The beautiful Ideal.” Our star is our ideal, a vision perfect of that which we wish to attain. It appears to us without a single soar or blemish. Ideals have always formed a high place in American history. It was the ideal of religious freedom which induced the Pil - grims to leave their native land. It was the great ideal of Democracy for which our boys left home to traverse 3,000 miles of water to a foreign land. Now that Autocracy has been crushed and Dem- ocracy is reigning supreme it remains for the individuals of this country to build up those ideals which shall make them worthy of the country in which they live. We are forming our ideals now. Ideals are subject to change, not a radical change but a gradual development in proportion to our expansion of body and mind. When we were children we had strange ideas which were termed fancies, but they were the foundation of our ideals, for it would be impossible for us to have high ideals had we not been inspired by childish fan- cies. As mankind’s ideals have advanced with civilization, so a child’s ideals devel- op with age and training. Let us keep ever before us these ennobling lines writ- ten by Oliver Wendell Holmes : ‘‘Build thee more stately mansions, 0 my soul, As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s un- resting sea. ’ ’ One of the most beautiful ideals we may have is that which inspires us to be- come the ideal man or woman, and the ideal is one who is true to the best that is in him. But whatever the ideal, let us place it high! Then if we have faith in our star and if we have the ability to work for it, success will be ours. Who can accomplish anything worth while in life without be- lieving in it with his whole heart and soul, and working for it with courage and strength ? With unwavering, rock-like faith and continual, incessant toil we must press onward through all impediments that obstruct our way, we must scale the heights and reach the stars. Nothing shall turn us from our ideal. It shall remain ‘ ‘ Constant as the northern star, O f whose true-fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.” We, the class of 1919, wish to express our gratitude to those who have helped to give us our ideals. To the teachers, parents, school committee, and friends we express our deepest, and most heartfelt “thank you.” To-night is the last time we shall meet together as a class, it may be the last time we Shall all be together. For four years, four happy industrious years we have met in the class room. We have shared our joys and sorrows and now we must part. In a few moments we shall receive our diplomas, the keys that open one of the bars which obstruct our upward course. Now, as we are about to say “good-bye,” 11 I want to wish each member of the class of 1919 the strength of will to enable him to overcome all obstacles and reach the stars. Valedictory— ED1T1I M. iSPYUT, ’19. “The Tiger” acknowledges with thanks the receipt of the following : “The Molten,” Danvers, Mass. “The Hamiltonian,” Hamilton, Mass. “The Aegis,” Beverly, Mass. “The Red and Gray,” Lynn, Mass. SOCIAL NEWS A tag day was held on Saturday, June 7, to add to the sum needed for the tablet which is to be erected in the school, on which will appear the names of those M. II. S. boys who have been in the service. The day was very successful in its results. The sum of $165 was received by the chairman of the committee in charge. It is most probable that the tablet will be placed in the school at some time in the near future. The Glee Club and School Chorus held the Ann ual Concert on the evening of June 13. The Glee Club sang several num- bers which were greatly appreciated by the audience. The Concert was assisted by Mr. Luscomb, violinist, of Wenham. The Forty-Fifth Annual Commencement of the Manning High School will be held on Thursday, June 26, 1919. A commence- ment reception and dance will be held on Friday, June 27, and the banquet given by the Class of 1919 will be held on Saturday, June 28. An Alumni Banquet will be held on Jane 30. The Classes of 1916, 1917, and 1918 are given a special invitation to at- tend this affair. The Annual School Exhibition was held on June 20, at the Town Hall. Many art- icles of interest were on display. The ex- hibition this year proved that the work in the schools is rapidly improving. Recita- tions were made by Gladys Brown, Lucy Bailey, Mildred Davis, Douglas Jewett, and Cleon Johnson. A sophomore debate was also given. The subject of the debate was, “Resolved that the Government should own the Railroads.” The debaters w ere : affirmative, Gardner Brown, Nath- an Su helsky; negative, Muriel Russell, Howard Doughty. Musical selections w r ere given by the French Classes and by the Glee Club. Sandwich Sales have been held in the school for the last few w T eeks. SPORTING NEWS Baseball for the past weeks has been of much credit to the school. Notwith- standing the late start, the team has shown a remarkable improvement in their play- ing. This is probably due to the fact that a coach has been supplied them. April 25, 1919 The city is stirred by many a sound, The tramp of feet, the hum of voice; The steamship whistles all resound, The airfleet circles above in the blue, Swooping and gliding as great hawks do. Now t it flies ascending, now in line, Now spreading far out o’er the ocean brine. 12 The sea fleet at anchor in the bay, Rides calmly out of the terrible way Of storms that on the ocean sweep And the greater danger beneath the deep, Cruisers, destroyers, mine sweepers, and all, Who kept the sea clear through summer and fall — Th rough summer and fall and winter and spring, Far to the north, where with, scarlet tinge The Aurora touches all that venture there, And fills ice, sea, and sky, with a burning glare. Far to the south where the star cross gleams, And the sun fills the day with burning beams, In North, in South, by islands green, Seeking to sink the submarine In every sea the fleet has been. And now from roof tops flags fly out, And the streets are filled with a singing crowd, When hark! from along the streets rolls a roar, Gaining in volume, more and more, Till the air fleet hears it up in the sky, And the sea fleet echoes it back with a cry, And the city rocks from base to tow ’r, For up the street the khaki column comes, With the shout of the crowd and the beat of drums. The Yankee division is home again — The Yankee division of Argonne fame, Of Belleau wood and many more — That’s why the city is filled with a roar, Why air planes swoop and glide in the sky, And why their fame shall never die. Hail to the glorious Twenty-sixth! IT. N. DOUGHTY, Jr., ’21. ON A BATTLEFIELD IN FRANCE The Red Cross Nurse laid her cool white palm Upon his fevered brow. The wind lapsed down to a gentle breeze, And all is quiet now. The sound of battle now is hushed, The dead of night is here, The soldiers in the trenches now Do show no sign of fear. All in the quiet waste about, Is heard no sigh nor groan, No wounded lying on the ground, But the soldier and nurse alone. The Red Cross Nurse knows not the man Who by her side doth lie. She only knows that he’s the man She came to save or die. A wounded aviator he, Who o’er the clouds did fly, Until a bullet’s cruel shot, Did lure him from the sky. She saved his life, for long she tried, To stem the lifeblood’s flow, A.nd save this gallant soldier boy To fight against the foe. Days later when he came to life, He heard the story told, Of how the Red Cross angel brought Him back from death’s grim hold. He was the greatest of those men Who o’er the clouds do fly, She helped her country most, right when She answered one man’s cry. DOROTHY HALL, ’21. 13 HUBBY’S VACATION My darling, My darling, Come home to me now, To feed the poor hens, And milk the old cow. The sheep and pigs are calling, And everything is sad; The baby won’t stop bawling, And I cannot be glad. The garden needs a lot of care, The house needs painting new, And everything is upside down, Just waiting here for you. The furnace fire will not burn, The f liver will not start, If you don’t answer to my call, You’ll surely break my heart. The mice are eating everything, There’s no end to their sin, And I, poor wife, have worked so hard 1 ’m growing very thin. And many other things have happened Since last you went away, I’ll tell the rest to you, my dear, If you’ll come home to-day. CHRISTINE MOULTON, ’19. THE RETURN OF OUR HERO There comes a sound of many feet, Marching down the crowded street, A flag is in each person’s hand, They all are listening for the band. We fondly gaze to left and right, To see if he will pass our sight; Then suddenly a smiling boy W aves his hand to us in joy. It is our hero home once more, From fighting on the foreign shore, Our big, strong, stalwart hero Ted, And he is at the very head. The price he had to pay was dear, Yet he did it without fear, He lost his leg, ‘tis true, But he did all he could do. But now he is home at last, So we must forget the horrid past, And only think of the future so near Which we will spend with our loved one dear. CATHERINE CALDWELL, ’21. THOSE WHO DO NOT RETURN God bless them ! those who do not return, May they be honored and loved, And may they not be wholly forgotten, Those who ' have gone — our beloved. We cannot welcome them in this world, But soon we shall meet up above, And then we ’ll show our greatest thanks. Our reverence, honor, and love. But they shall not be forgotten, Those whom they left over here, And we’ll join together as one, Llear Lord, and welcome their loved ones so dear. God bless them ! as they lie in graves, Marked by the little white cross, God bless them! all those gallant braves, The nation’s greatest loss. GEORGIA E. REID, ’19. THE LEGEND OF HEARTBREAK HILL There is a story often told, ♦ Of an Indian maid and her lover bold. She belonged to the Agawam tribe, Her lover came from the good ship Guide. He came from far over the sea To buy a cargo of tobacco and tea, To take to his people who were at home, Awaiting his return from over the foam. 14 lie met the maiden every day, It made her heart grow light and gay. But soon he must sail over the sea, Back again to his fair country. Every day at early morn, When th e sun first began to dawn, The Indian maiden would wander free To look for her lover over the sea. As the maiden stood on the rock one day, Watching over the waters so gay, The angel of death opened the gate, That she might pass in and for her lover wait. And so the legend we still hear, As the hill grows older year by year, That this is the reason for the fame Of the curious hill with the curious name. MARION PHILLIPS, ’19. MY VISION The stars float gently through the sky Like candles in the air; The meadow breezes waft to me The flowers’ perfume there. The trailing shades through moonlit glades Steal hither from the west ; Stirring the trees, the evening breeze Sinks gently into rest. I lifted my eyes to the dark’ning skies, As guided by a spell, Hark! what do I seem to hear? Soft music like a bell. The heavens are lit by holy light, They seem to part in two, Am I asleep? It can’t be so, For I hear the Night’s Curfew. My eyes are held by unseen force To that opening in the sky, And through it pass a heavenly throng, The dwellers up on high. Their robes are of the purest sheen Of beauteous brightness fair; Around their forms a wond’rous light Gleams in whiteness there. The angels part and Him I see, Leading by the hand A new arrival into heaven, A soul just from this land. It seemed his face grew plainer. Oh Lord, What can I see? My heart did bound with joy sublime. I cried, “Tis he, ’tis he!” It was my father led by Him Once more for me to see, And as I watched, an angel, too, Myself I seemed to be. Jesus touched him with a cross And he was robed in white, Then angel harps rang out again Into the stilled night. The heavens closed, I strained my eyes To see my father’s face, But it was gone and I prayed to God, And thanked His Holy Grace. LUCY M. LEE, ’22. MY WORST PUNISHMENT 1 ’ve heard of every punishment That is handed out by judges, To men who’ve tried to straighten Their disputes and their grudges; But never have 1 heard of one, With such chastising power, As to have to sit and practice One’s music by the hour. 15 If a fellow s-tarts an argument With (we’ll say) his little brother, As sure as time, if he turns ’round, In the doorway stands his mother. She won’t say piuch, but gee, such looks! ’T would make sweet milk turn sour, And then she’ll say, “Step right in here And practice for one hour.” Then in the parlor one must go And sit upon a stool, And play and count and count and play Till one feels like a fool ; While little brother, darling boy (?) On the lawn leaps about and jeers, Oh for a chance to catch that kid, And soundly box his ears ! If a fellow must be punished, 1 think ’t would be more wise To make him practice playing ball And learn to catch high flies, ’Cause he might make some big league team And be his friends’ great joy; Then his people would have reason Tc be proud of their big boy. Darn Music! it’s an awful grind. I ' d rather split up wood, For when I have to practice, T simply can’t be good. I wish the man who invented A piano, drum, or horn, Had died while yet an infant, Or else never had been born. RICHARD RALPH, ’20. WHEN MY JIM RETURNS Now that the war is over, And my Jim is coming back, I’ll meet him when his ship comes in, And tap him on his back. I’ll say, “Jim boy, you’ve done your bit Without a growl or whine, And I’ll bet a franc, that over in France You made pie of the Hindenburg line.” I ' ll also say, “my khaki boy, I’ve done my little bit too, I’ve bought thrift stamps, and helped the camps, And bought a bond or two.” I’ll tell him of the slacker class, Who shirked at their country’s cry, And as I tell him, I bet I’ll see A flash come in his eye. He’ll come home packed with souvenirs, Among them helmets too, And here and there from under his pack, We’ll see a Boche’s shoe. He then will come to me and say ‘ ‘ Gee ! pa, but it was fun, We beat the Bodies fair and square, And had them on the run. “We chased them many a dreary mile, And made them cry and whine, We chased them out of Belgium dear, And clear across the Rhine. “We’d got the Kaiser, sure and true, If he ’d not gone to Holland, And if we’d got him, dear old dad, We’d have beat him into pollen. “But as it was he’s safe at last, But I don’t give a rap, For you believe me, ma and dad, I ’m glad to get safe back. ’ ’ GEORGE BENEDIX, ’21. A DIFFICULTY IN JUNIOR ENGLISH It was Sunday night and late at that, Time to wind up the clock and put out the cat. I picked up the papers and fastened the door, 16 But still after that there was one thing more. Something had troubled me all the week, And even the weather was cold and bleak. I sat at the desk, took paper and pen, And there I labored till almost ten. I had a poem to write for Miss Cole, But I couldn’t do it to save my soul. But what was the use of worrying? It never was worth while, So I packed up my books in my old school- bag, And I smiled, smiled, smiled. MARY A. NOURSE, ’20. THE UNFINISHED LESSON My lesson is “write a poem,” Which is a lesson hard, My thoughts at randon roam, I wish I were a bard. I tightly grip my pen And dip it in the ink, While in my cozy den I sit and think and think. I write of birds so gay, Flying home to their nest; Of sands at Ipswich Bay, Of Town Hill, and sunsets. I think of the bright fall, Of flowers in the spring, Summer, winter and all, And Oh! just everything! I write about women, About some pretty girl, I try my luck at men, My genius I unfurl. I think of orphans sad, Contrast to wealthy boys; Of Huns who make me mad, Killers of Belgium joys. About our soldiers here, Who guarded our homeland, Then of those ‘ ‘ over there ’ ’ Who fought in “no man’s land.” I write of our brave fight, Of our great victory, For we believe in right, Whatever the cost be. My teacher is to blame, I cannot write a pun, I bow my head in shame, My lesson is not done. EDITH M. SPYUT, ’19. THE DEAD The birds in the tree-tops forever sigh, As his soul is up-lifted in the velvet sky, For Death has lifted her golden wing To where the angels forever sing. He had always lived a clean, gay life, Through pain, sorrow, and fearful strife, But now he is lifted up on high, Forever to sleep in the velvet sky. lie will be missed for e ’er and e ’er, And is never to be forgotten in our daily prayer, He had forever served his country right, For he had died in the great world fight. Lying in cold, dreary Flanders’ Field, Amid the cannon’s din, roar, and peal, His body still unburied lies, With his face turned toward the big blue sky. Lying beside him, cold and still, Are his comrades who fell in taking the hill, No more shall they tremble at the can- non’s roar, For they have died in the great world war. GEORGE BENEDIX, ’20. 17 WHO? Who takes the novels from the girls, Looks through them with delight, And then goes to their desks for more. Just like he had the right? And up to us — ’pon the stairs, Whose sweet voice doth ascend? And then at lunch time who comes over The lunch to superintend? Who makes the pupil change their seats, And then in accents haughty, As back into his chair he swings. Says, “Naughty! Naughty! Naugh- ty!” EDNA HERLIHY, ’20. THE FRIEND Everyone’s so happy, everyone’s so gay, You know us Y. D. boys returned to-day. IIow my old pals laughed, how much they ’d been missed ! And I kind of thrilled at their being kissed. Gee ! it must be great, coming home to friends, And to fond parents (there I go again) Always complaining, just because, you know, ] am an orphan, with no place to go. Oh! I kind of wish (now what makes me sigh ? ) But I kind of wish, that they’d let me die. Just see his mother, gee, but do you know? Gosh I would like — like to have one so. Look at his dad, proud as he can be ; That ’s his kid sister, and his sweetheart — gee! What’s ailing me now, why am I so weak? What’s that darn tear doing on my cheek ? Now wouldn’t that phase you, making such a fuss! That’s just like me, a confounded cuss! I pick up my bag, and put on a grin, Great camouflage, easy as a pin ! Walk to some barrels right near the sea, Think I’ll jump over — ain’t I brave — aw gee ! What’s climbing up me? What’s licking my paw? It was the cuitest cur you ever saw, Little one, you know, with the loveliest eyes And kind of saying ‘ ‘ Cheer up, mate, I ’m wise!” So I stoop, you know, measly little hound And I sort of rub him, gently up and down, And he wags his tail, still licking my hands, And I kind of feel that he understands. “We’ll be pals, I swear by God who did send To my lonely life — you — my only fri end. ’ ’ LUCY BAILEY, ’19. A Question Answered “Oh God! Will I ever reach there?” A question it was, but unanswered. And yet — it had been asked time and time again by this lonely man — on a lonely road. Lonely for want of human beings- - but not of the bursting star shells over- head, and the shells screeching and moan- ing through the air. Above all this pan- demonium a steady “chug, chug’’ could be heard. A steady, persevering noise it was, and seemed to portray the inner workings of the man ’s mind, who found it hard work to keep in the seat of his bat- tered and torn motorcycle. Once he stopped — but only to go on again. Fail now 7 ? Never!! Stop now and lay down his task? The starting of the engine gave his answer, and once more the battered relic of the war was on its way. So the steady “chug, chug” went on and the pall of darkness became deeper, and deeper. Still the shells burst overhead, and in the distance the slow and monotonous drone of his cycle seemed to sear into the man’s brain, and once more the question went out into the night : “Oh God! Will I ever reach there?” Morning dawned clear and bright. What the darkness had hidden, the day- light revealed. A road — which bore no semblance of what it was intended to be — torn, and full of shell holes. Trees with their trunks and branches broken, lay stretched across the road. But not only the road had suffered. All that the eye could see was easily described in one word — slaughter! Slaughter of nature’s handi- work, and slaughter of human beings! Dim and unreal it seemed, but the filmy haze of smoke, receding in the distance, served to recall one actual fact — and it needed not the dull, resonant roar of can- nons to remind one that they had caused all this havoc. Then suddenly the noise in the distance vstopped. It seemed as if, like a tired child, the guns had ceased their noise, and gone to sleep, — and stillness reigned supreme in this place of desolation and destruction. Unnatural? Yes, But it seemed as if this very stillness was a fitting dedication to all the bruised and dead things caused by the onward rush of war. The scene w,as only one of the many appalling results. Then slowly there came drifting, as it were, along the remnant of a road — a van. A large covered van — but bow welcome a sight to eyes that might watch and weary for it. Only a Red Cross ambulance — but how emblematic it seemed of the great and merciful work which inspired many to do their best ! Nearer and neared it came. Stopping and starting, picking the way as best it could, and meanwhile the two men in it carried on a conversation thus : “Where to, Ned?” “Just over to the field hospital.” “What for?” “To get Cameron. Got some awful wounds last night. Practically shot to pieces. Not much show for him.” “How did it happen?” “He had to carry an important dis- patch over to field headquarters. His machine was pretty well broken up, but he had to come, and there was no way but along this road, so you see that he came right through the barrage which was going on this morning before that battle started. I think the dispatch he brought was concerning the enemies ’ posit ions. I guess what he did practically saved the day.” Thus a desultory conversation was car- ried on; short, brief, and concise, until the van drew up in front of a large frame building. The two men jumped out, pulled out a stretcher, and entered the hospital. Soon they came out — but their stretcher was empty. “Another gone West” was their mu- tual thought, but of their actual feelings they showed none. Such things were hourly occurrences to them, — but what of his folks at home? For them — one com- forting thought : “Peace he had ' gained, And his question was answered. But the price he had paid With his life — unafraid ! Ah ! He died gloriously ! His country to save.” GEORGIA E. REID, ’19. MME. CATHERINE BRESHKOVISKY OR THE LITTLE GRANDMOTHER OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION. I had the fortune, or better, the honor to hear Mme. Breshkovisky speak at Trem- ont Temple this winter. Hers is a face never to be forgotten. The calmness of her manner is wonderful, the expression of the hands, which are continually mov- ing is most unusual, her voice is sweet and low, her smile winning and childlike. 19 But in the sad, honest eyes is betrayed the suffering of years. Sihe came to Boston in the seventy-fifth year of her life to plead for one thing only, and that is the welfare of the Rus- sian people. There are four million little children in Russia who are motherless and fatherless, without care, opportunity or even food. So she came to America to get aid in the great cause of humanity. Here is a Russian noblewoman whose love for her land was so great that she was sent into exile because she insisted upon teaching peasants to understand their circumstances and abolish tyranny. So when still a handsome young woman she was sent to Siberia. When she came out of exile, thirty years later, the brown hair was snowy white, the beautiful face was wrinkled, haggard, old — Her son, for whom in her long period of exile, she had yearned and prayed, had been adopted by another woman who posed as his mother. When he learned the truth, instead of being proud of his brave little mother, he disowned her. So he sent her, who had come to him as the only living relative on earth, away — childless; but not friendless. Every American adores her, loves her. What greater sacrifices has any woman made than this woman has made for the land she loves? None! LUCY BAILEY, ’19. THE GREAT AWAKENING. Mr. Richard Stone sat back in his large arm chair and began puffing ' on his pipe, while the logs on the fire-place in front of him cracked and sent forth a large light which illuminated the entire library, where a merry laugh or kind word was never uttered. Mr. Stone’s face was covered with wrinkles and seemed to cry out for the want of a smile. His small, dark eyes looked forth as if their very glance would send up in flames every object which they beheld. This man was mean, narrow- minded, a helpless miser. His very countenance showed us this. The ser- vants in his home feared him. His bell when heard by them made them tremble and wish they were dead, instead of hav- ing to face a beast like their master. Mr. Stone would not have lived in this won- derful mansion and employed many serv- ants if his position had not required it. The only thing lie worshipped or regarded as if human, Avas his money. The more his large Leather Mill produced for him each day, the more he desired. If he pos- sessed all the money in the world, he would grumble because there wasn’t more. He ivias more furious this evening than he had been for a long time. The very furniture in the room seemed to crouch aAvay from him, the pictures on the Avails seemed to be froAvning at him. He was wild, and nothing could calm his temper. “I Avill not put fire-escapes in my mill!” he exclaimed. “My slaves, Oh James where are you?” “Yes, sir, here I am, sir,” said the frightened seiwant. “Do you hear me, I will not install fire- escapes in my mill. Oh, God, AAhat an ex- pense ! To think people A r ould have the nerve of writing me this letter. Here, on this very paper I hold in my hands, I am told to put fire-escapes in my mill ! It makes no difference if the Avorkers’ lives are in danger. That is their look out, not mine. Do you hear James?” “Yes, sir,” ansAvered James, aa t 1io had nothing to do in regard to the letter, but received the punishment for it. “Leave me, James,” cried Mr. Stone, “before I knock your very head off.” “Yes , sir,” replied James. Mr. Stone let forth an ugly laugh, a 20 laugh which was forced, and did not come from the heart. He laughed because he was so very angry. He was almost driven mad by the letter which told him of the danger that so many young men’s lives were in. He laughed because he tri- umphed. A few ' months later he went through his mill to see his slaves at work. Yes, his slaves. They earned every cent they re- ceived. The conditions under which they were working v r ere indescribable. They were shut in like rats. The sun had tried its best to throw a stream of light through the dirty windows, but it was im- possible. Mr. Stone walked through his mill, now and then he let forth a cry at one of the employees for looking at him or perhaps for not working as hard as usual because of his lack of physical strength. ‘ ‘Fire ! Fire !” cried a man. “It can not be possible !” exclaimed Mr. Stone. The men ran to and fro as if mad. Be- fore many minutes smoke appeared in every direction. ‘ 1 Save me!” cried the money-maker. No one heard him. He was left help- less. For once in his long life money left his mind. The flames were rapidly eating up the Leather Mill. The sparks iseemed to cry out “Revenge! Revenge!’’ Mr. Stone’s large fur coat soon became the victim of {he flames, and before many minutes the great money-man was in the hands of re- venge. As his life was gradually leaving him his only wish was, that he had in- stalled the proper conveniences in the mill, but it was now too late. “Wake up, sir, wake up, you are dreaming,” cried James. “What!” exclaimed Stone, “can it be possible ! ’ ’ “Yes, you v r ere dreaming,” said James, who trembled for fear that lie would re- ceive a good scolding because his master had had a bad dream. “Oh, James,” said Stone, “call this firm up immediately and tell them to put fire-escapes in my mill and also other im- provements.” James did as he was told, thinking his master had gone mad. No, it ivas true. Mr. Stone had received his lesson through a dream. He was re- born and started life over again with a new conscience and with new 7 ideals. CORA H. BENEDIX, ’19. MARGERY MOORE. Margery Moore is a poor, bent wrinkled old woman, without a relative in the world. Day by day she sits alone by her hearth and patiently knits and dreams of her happy and sad by-gone days. She dreams about herself when she was young. Nobody would ever think that this wrinkled old woman was ever young. Her mother and father petted their youngest child, her brother and sister kindly smiled on her, and young Will Grey, the neigh- bor’s son, was her ardent admirer. She dreams of all the different parties, entertainments, church suppers, and husk- ing bees she attended with him. She was very pretty, proud, and gay in those days. She remembers the first time she met Will. It Avas at a husking bee of one of her chums. ITowr bashful Will was when he asked her if he could walk home with her ! Will Grey was a fisherman. He left his childhood home and joined a colony of fishermen on Cape Ann. From here he was to go to sea. It was a bright spring day when Will sailed for the distant bay. Margery went to the wharf with him. After the boat started she went home and sat by the window in her little room and watched the white sail out of sight. 21 Months wore on until June. Margery was as happy as the birds, as she sat and sewed by the window in her little room, watching for the little white sail to come in sight. The sea and wind had been fierce and cruel. The white sail never came back again. Margery, when she finishes this dream, always wakes up with a heavy sigh. Her tea kettle is boiling, and she gets up and busies herself about her supper. Poor. Margery still sits by her lonely hearth, alone, without a relative in the world. ANNANARKUN, ’21. Danvers, Massachusetts, June 6, 1919. My dear Nephew, At last I reckon my remaining days numbered, and at the advice of Doctor Marblehead, I am going to make out my will. My boy, although you v T ere quite a young scamp last summer when you were here on your vacation, and called me “Old ball top” in spite of my old age, I — By the w ay, I am using some new hair tonic and my hair is growing in quite fast. As I v ' as saying, how w r ell I remember how you teased all my animals. Many times you tied the pigs’ legs together with string and left them in agony in the pen. How often you put tin cans on the cow- s’ tails and left them helpless in the pasture ! Like a picture painted before my eyes I can dee you over yonder in the fields looking for snakes and other pests with which to torment me. Regardless of the past and your ill treatment towards me and all mine, I By the w ay, do you remember the old white cow that you painted green when you were here? Well, she got first prize at the Fair last month. Well, young man, in spite of all the foolish names which you applied to me, and the w r reck you made of my life, I got married last w r eek to Lizzy Patch, the old school ma’am, which makes her, therefore, sole heiress to my fortunes. With as much love as ever, I remain Uncle Josh. CORA H. BENEDIX, ’19. 18 Green Street, Ipswich, Mass., June 6, 1919. Dear Miss Blank, I am so glad to hear that you have got a Ford ! I have tw T o very good reasons for being glad. First, because you can ride, and second, because I, as a pedestrian, can make fun of said Ford. From what I hear about the matter, a Ford is an unmixed pleasure. It never rattles, squeaks, jounces, bounces, pitches, tosses or bursts its tires. The state road is now in wonderful condition for Fords. It is being repaired in three hundred and thirty-four places between here and Bos- ton. An automobile always gets stuck in the mud, but a Ford, never. A Ford is also beautiful as well as use- ful. Its shiny black sides glow with a brilliant radiance. Tt’s brass work sends out the gleam of gold. As Keats says, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Yours most sincerely, H. N. DOUGHTY, Jr. Ipswdch, Mass., March 30, 1916. Dearest Althea, I have just heard of your great loss. Let me extend my greatest sympathy to you and the rest of your family, I always did like that cat, and he was such a good mouser. 22 Your loving friend, LUCY BAILEY, ’19. CLASS NOTES. X Pupil to Callahan: “Do you like Miss Wood?” Callahan: “She is delightful when you know her but I don’t know her.’’ There was a young lad named Bean, His “loves’’ few and far between; But neverless, He must surely confess He is “gone” on ihis so called queen. (I wonder who she can be. He often visits the Senior room) COMMON EXPRESSION IN SCHOOL. Miss Marsh: “Go right along and read it as if you knew it. It is really a beau- tiful passage.” Miss Cole: “I’ve explained it over and over and now you don’t understand.” Miss Wood — “Have you prepared your French today or merely looked it over ? ’ ’ Miss Rowell — “Now what is the trouble? they’re very simple.” Mr. Marston — “I saw five people look at the person who is crossing the floor. ’ ’ Ques. Why is a Ford like a school- room? Ans. Because the crank’s in front and the nuts are in back. Miss Rowell : Callahan, put your eyes on your book.” Callahan: “I can ' t, my nose is in the way.” Miss Rielly: “Miss Lockwood, the bob- bin is gone to this machine.” Miss Lockwood: “Perhaps it has run out.” Brown will make a famous French scholar. His favorite manner of display- ing his knowledge is this: “Miss Wood, I didn’t get that far.” Miss Cole, reading some of Chaucer as a sample of old English. “I will read some more some day.” One of her pupils fervently, “No thanks.” Mr. Marston — “There seems to be a lit- tle party in the back of the room. Come at 3.30 in Room 1 and I will gladly chaperon you.” Some people are SO obliging. If all classes would follow our class I am sure the stupid and slackers would be no more, for we are : J oily U nited N oble I deal 0 bliging R ighteous S tudious Once upon a time there was a very rich man whose wealth consisted mainly of a valuable diamond which he kept sewed in his turban. This man was very selfish and never gave anything to the poor. One day he was going down to his boat to take a sail. A beggar asked him for alms but was roughly refused. Soon af- terwards the rich man was out sailing on the lake when his turban, with the valu- able diamond in it, blew off. The next day the beggar was eating a fish which he caught in the lake, when he was choked by something hard. Joy to the beggar! What do you suppose it was? A fish bone! 23 Mr. Marston in hall, lecturing a pupil : ‘‘The way of the wicked is never easy.” Callahan under his breath, “I notice that you have no bed of roses in this school.” A Junior enters, writes on the black- board in the Sophomore class. “Junior Sandwich Sale. All come and bring your money. ’ ’ Witham: “Miss Marsh, Do you think I ought to pay five cents for two of those sandwiches ? Aren’t Junior Sandwiches small ones? Brown, “The smaller the sandwiches, the smaller the Dr’s bill.” Brown, speakng of the Roman Army, “Miss Marsh, what comes after a cap- tain?” Miss Marsh in surprise: “Why, don’t you know that Brown? “Class what is it?” Class in chorus, “Major, of course.” Brown, “Oh yes, I used to know it all once, but I forgot it.” i 24 COMPLIMENTS OF IPSWICH MEAT MARKET Telephone Connection % j John Tsoutsouras Electric Shoe Repairing w Vi First Class Shoe Shine Parlor For Ladies and Gents 14 CENTRAL STREET IPSWICH, MASS. HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS 1 COME TO WHEN YOU WED Buy King Arthur’s Flour DICK GARRETTES Because it makes good bread N. J. BOLLES, Grocer FOR ANY Harris Clothes Shop School Supplies IS THE PLACE FOR Snappy Clothes IPSWICH, MASS. ALSO COME FOR MAGAZINES, CANDY, COLLEGE KIPPIN’S MARKET Meats and Provisions ICES, SODAS NEWSPAPERS NEXT TO POST OFFICE Telephone 63-M I Parlor of Sweets The Store of Satisfaction Srmmt Sntg S tnre Quality Ice Cream SODAS and COLLEGE ICES FRUITS FINE CONFECTIONERY Queen Quality Shoes TYLER’S EWING’S THE BEST ETC., ETC. HAIRDRESSING ESTABLISHMENT W. E. SCOTT Gligara anti (Miami 10 CENTRAL ST. r Vi 4 i ; IPSWICH PUBLIC LIBRARY 3 21 22 001 37 2105 GEORGE HAYES Plumber, Steam Fitter and Sheet Metal Worker DEALER IN RANGES, STOVES, FURNACES and KITCHEN FURNISHINGS JOB WORK PROMPTLY EXECUTED ARTHUR C. DAMON COMPLETE HOUSE FURNISHER DAMON BUILDING Depot Square and Market Street LOUIS H. BIXBV COMPLETE FAMILY OUTFITTER IPSWICH, MASS. J. J. MERRILL llfrlrtriaw- (Cmiatrurtur (flumplimente of IPSWICH OFFICE Room 3 and 4 Damon Building IPSWICH, MASS. 3firat Hepartmetit § tore Have You Tried The Season Latest IN COLLEGE ICES IF NOT DO SO AT ONCE Grapealade and Orangelade College Ice SOMETHING VERY CHOICE ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW AT HELENS Cozy Corner Parlor, 8 Central St. SCHREMPF’S Floturr £ hnp C. F. Chapman Son 27 Market Street Telephone 317-W We have removed our Millinery Busi- ness from 10 Market St. to our Flower Shop; saving the expense of one store, makes it possible to give you better val- ues both in Millinery and Flowers. We make up designs and bouquets for all oc- casions, at very reasonable prices. AGENTS FOR Reach Base Rail Goods EASTMAN KODAKS SB