Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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• WHO’S WHO in the SENIOR CLASS NAME NICKNAME APPEARANCE HOBBY Mable Anthony Stickum Haughty Pouting Nathaniel Archer Babe Dark Clerking Louis Bean Baron I-know-it-all Violin cat-wails A 7 arren Brown AV arnie Wobbly Telling whoppers Helen Chapman Chappy Fair No afternoon session Beatrice Connor Bea Sporty Ballet Dancing Alice Davis A1 Angelic Studying Cleola Davis Lola Loving certain people Cleon Alary Gordon Too dignified to have one Learned Translating Virgil Pamelia Gould Pam Willowy Superiority Edna Ilerlihy Eddie Wide Skipping periods Henry Hills Hen Overworked Studying History Franklin Hulbei t Frank Movie hero His pompadour Barbara James,, : Sonny Lovable Gossiping Elsie Alackinpey Else Saintly Eating Alary Nourse, Bill Aleek Keeping quiet Hazel Rogers Bob Cute Ala king eyes Rosamond Scahill Roz Snappy Entertaining Raymond Sullivan Shrimp Alinute Listening to his own voice Bernard Sullivan Bun Worried Football Bernice AVhittier Bunnie Quiet Going to church CLASS SONG Music — “I’ll Love You All Over Again.” Old Manning High School, we say good- bye, You have done your best for us. Although we are leaving, And our hearts are grieving, AVe will be true to your trust. CHORUS. Our class of nineteen twenty Brings tribute and honor to thee, AVe go forth tonight, To make the world bright And staunch little comrades we’ll be; AYhen long days look dark and dreary AA 7 e will watch for the sunshine so bright. And we’ll fight for the truth AVith the spirit of youth So three cheers for our high school to- night. Our high school days are now all over Those four dear years of our life, So singing this token Of our real devotion, Class-mates! we’ll all say good-bye. BEATRICE M. CONNOR, 1920. COUNT BEAUFOIS, THE EXILE. Roux, a once beautiful suburb of Paris, Avas being ravaged and pillaged, by a party of Revolutionists, on a certain Oc- tober morning in 1793. The streets were in great confusion; children were calling for parents; mothers were weeping for lost children, and men were Avildly argu- ing and calling for volunteer leaders. Roux was one of the first small towns to be plundered, because it was here that 7

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fall. In the course of our Junior year several things of interest took place. Physical Training was introduced and has managed to exist, without proper instruc- tion or rooms, for two years although .many of us fail to see the reason for it. The boys prefer matching pennies in Room B, the girls arranging their tresses before the mirror, to having “Physical Torture” as it is generally called. Our Junior Prom came that year and was a success financially as well as social- ly. The most important of the new plans was the so-called improvement of changing from one to two sessions. No remarks con- cerning this subject are necessary as it has been discussed by everyone everywhere since it went into effect. The school paper entitled “The Tiger” made its first ap- pearance that year and proved to be very satisfactory. But best of all was our senior year. The sensation was described thus by one of our Freshman teachers. — “A Freshman knows nothing and thinks he knows something. “A Sophomore knows nothing and knows he knows nothing. “A Junior knows something and thinks he knows nothing. “A Senior knows something and knows he knows something.” During these four years each and every one of us has developed some conspicuous characteristics. Raymond Sullivan and Louis Bean have been partners in every- thing. If the majority of the pupils dis- liked a recitation, French grammar, for example, “Ray” and Bean were sure to start a conversation with the teacher which never failed to postpone the dread- ful lesson. Another classmate whom I shall never forget is our beloved valedictorian. Some- times several would find a lesson quite difficult and would think, “Oh well, if we can’t understand it the others can’t.” But as sure as we got in class Mary al- ways had her lesson prepared and nine chances out of ten it was perfect. Warren and Elsie may be classed to- gether in regard to attendance. Elsie didn’t enjoy assembly in the morning so she found a good reason for coming ten or fifteen minutes late. Warren didn’t like any part of the day and he, too, found good excuses though they didn’t always prove acceptable. A recent addition to our class is Beat- rice Connor. “Bea” is always interested in class affairs and is a great help in mak- ing our events a success. Our salutatorian is the class angel. Alice is quiet on all occasions and in class meetings approves of everything, a good trait which others might well copy. Last but not least is Pamelia Gould. When a committee is needed “Pam” is al- ways the first one elected and never fails to do her duty faithfully and success- fully. We leave behind us several honors and duties which we dedicate to the remain- ing classes. To the class of 1921 we leave the long coveted name of Senior with the necessity of upholding at all times and in all places the dignity that belongs to it. The chance of making plans for raising money for graduation, with the kind aid of the other classes, and the great pleas- ure of preparing the annual Senior Play. To the other classes we extend our heartfelt sympathy and sincerest hopes. As our dearly beloved principal is leav- ing us to-night we wish to extend our warmest appreciation for his earnest ef- forts made towards our progress and for his kind assistance always willingly given either along educational lines or in a soc- ial way. CLEOLA DAVIS, 1920. 6

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all the Counts, Marquis and Allies of Louis XVI, had lived. The King had been beheaded only the day before, and the little band of Royalists were unable to find a leader as none of the nobility dared to leave their families. At last a voice rang out, “Beaufois! Where is the Count? He will lead us to victory.” The walls of Count Louis Beaufois’ chateau lay in ruins, but still offered shel- ter from the turmoil, for the Countess and her two small sons, Charles and Jean. It was here that the little band of follow- ers found their chosen leader. “Beau- fois, you are needed; your country calls you,” came a strong voice, ringing through the tumult, to the Count. “Ma fois, ” shuddered the man, “I can- not leave my family to the misery alone ; but yet — ” A picture flashed through his mind of his father’s last blessing as he had sakl. “Be brave, Louis, my son. Fight your battles like a man and, above all, stand by your king.” “Yes,” the Count added hastily, “I’ll go.” Giving a part- ing embrace to his wife and children, he turned to leave them, perhaps forever. “Make haste, mon pere,” cried little Jean, “make haste, lest you be too late.” As the Count gathered his little band of followers the words of his son came ringing in his ears, “Make haste lest you be too late.” AVoifld he be too late? An- other party of Girondists had entered the town. Ah! Yes, Beaufois, too late! The scene in the streets was one of utmost misery, where men slaughtered children and women by the scores. The beautiful o ] d cathedrals and palaces were burning and some were even being torn down on the very heads of the occupants. The Count called on his forces to charge. Where were they? v They had deserted him ! At the sight which they could not endure they had fled in all di- rections, leaving the leader with less than a score of followers. What could they do? Beaufois, who still had the picture of his father before him, roared once more, ‘ Charge ! Down with the villians ! ’ ’ The fight was hand to hand and fist to fist, and before long, the few Royalists were trampled under foot. All but Beau- fois. He was bound, stoned, spit upon, and cursed. “Alas!” he thought, “I could bear these tortures bravely if I cou ] d only know that my wife and chfldren were safe.” But no word of his wife came, and the man, discouraged by his failures to be of service to the country, slept in a corner on a heap of rubbish, where he had been thrown. He was suddenly aAvakened by someone tugging and pull- ing at him. Then he was dragged through street after street, too sore and weak to know what was being done to him. At last the little party, made up of a few guards and Beaufois, reached Paris and the prisoner was taken to the St. Sauver prison, which had been captured at the outbreak of the revolution by the Girondists. The Count passed the step- less night in worry. Before dawn the next day, he was led out to meet his fate at the guilloti ne. As he was led forth, he felt a steady gaze upon him and, turning slightly he met the eyes of an erect, manly ngure. The gaze was fixed searchinglv upon him as if the man tried to recall an instance. Beaufois was sure that he had seen the man before. But where? Ah, his head was in confusion; he cou ] d not understand it all. The tall figure edged nearer as if to have a word with the pris- oner. By some chance little short of a miracle, the man proved to be a long lost friend cf the Count’s, who had come i ) save him. Could he, ah, could he by any means cut loose the prisoner’s bonds? The time had come; the guards who had met at the wine-shop the night before 8