Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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THE LOOKOUT IN THE ALPS The sun was setting over the Alps, changing the snow clad peaks to rose and gold, making them majestic and inspiring. The golden rays caressingly touched the humble roofs of a little Swiss village, snug- gled close under the mountains as if for protection. The water in the small lake near by sparkled and flashed with multi- tudes of diamonds. On the worn doorstep of a quaint little shop stood a tall, lean, stoop-shouldered man. From that doorstep he had seen many sunsets come and go. Every sunset for fifteen long years he had stood framed in that rude little doorway, looking down the road and across the lake for a sight of his only son, a handsome lad who had been sixteen when he left home fifteen years ago to make his way in the world. His boy! Blessed word. Surely he must come soon. The old worn mother had long been dead, and the little shop was lonely. Francois had always been a good boy, and faithful to his parens, but he had not been heard from since he left home years ago. He had loved the mountain pastures where he often led the goats. He had loved the flowers, the lake, the scenery, as his fathers did before him. Yet he had not been heard from for fifteen years. As the peaks turned slowly grey and cold, and the magic of the sunset disap- peared, for a single instant the stem, lined face of the watcher on the lookout post was lighted with a smile. Dear Francois ! Sure- ly he had not forgotten his old home. He would come soon. How had the world treated his boy ? Had it been kind to him ? Did he ever think of home? Endless ques- tions ! And they could not be answered ! Down the steep, rocky path, past the door of the little shop, a herd of goats came, driven by the young shepherd boys. Francois had driven the goats down that path, singing as these boys were singing now. Tears slowly filled the old man’s eyes as he thought of his absent boy. Fran- cois ’ mother had died with the boy’s name on her lips. The sun had long gone down, but still the solitary watcher remained in the door- way. Suddenly up the steep path came a frisky dog and a little boy of about ten years. When the child came to the house, he stooped and said, “Are you grand- pere ? ’ ’ The old man smiled and answered, “I do not know.” The little boy said, “My name is Rene D’Antos and my father sent me ahead with Pierre, my dog, to find my grand- father who used to live on this road. I have gone far ahead of my father and ma chere maman, and no one can tell me where my grandfather lives. Mes parents will not arrive for some time. Can’t you tell me where to find grandpere?” The old man looked long at the lad. He had seen this face before. To be sure, these eyes were blue and the others were black, but the resemblance was plain, and the name, D ’Anton, was his own. Could it be, could it be that Francois had returned with his wife and child, after all these years ? ‘ ‘ What is your father ’s name ? ” he asked eagerly. “Father’s -name is Francois D ’Anton, and mother’s name was Babette Yelpear. I think father said grandpere ’s name was Jacques D ’Anton. ” “Well, men enfant,” said the old man, joyful tears showing in his eyes, “You are a welcome visitor. Child, I am your grand- pere. ’ ’ 1 1 1 am glad because I like you, ’ ’ answered Rene, climbing in the lap of his newly found grandfather, as he sat on the steps. Soon a tall man and a pretty lady came up the steep path and Pierre ran to meet them. “Father!” cried the man. “Francois! At last!” exclaimed the lookout. “My father, Babette, you cannot know how happy I am to be home once more. ’ ’ Francois had done well in the world, and had a good business in Paris. He intended soon to return there and take his father with him. He had intended to come home every year, but something always happened to prevent it. When he told his father he must come back with him, his father refused, saying, “I was born and brought up among the Alps and I love them. Here have I lived and here I wish to die.” Slowly the moon rose over the lake, a great full orb of yellow, as it had risen

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47th Annual Commencement of the Manning High School Class of 1921 Thursday, June 30, 1921 PROGRAM Oh Victorious People, Chorus Invocation, Rev. Frederick Kenyon In All Labor There is Profit, The Forest Dance, The Cultivated Man, A Dream of Arcady, Americanization . Oh, Hail Us, Ye Free, ( Non est Vivere sed Valere Vita, In Training for America. Presentation of Diplomas, The Star Spangled Banner, (Salutatory) Irene Atkinson (Targatt) Chorus (Address) Gardiner Brown President of the Class, (De Koven) Mary Martel (Oration) Nathan Sushelsky ‘Ernani” Verdi) Chorus (Valedictory) Hilda Scales (Address) Rev. Carroll Perry Herbert W. Mason Chairman of School Committee Chorus

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when D ’Anton was a boy, and as it would rise long after he was dead. Its rays lighted up the beautiful group, Rene sleep- ing in the arms of his grandfather, Pierre with his head between his paws, Babette and Francois looking over the lake. But Madam Moon seemed to look longest at the watcher and the deserted lookout in the Alps. Dorothy Shaw — 1923. WHICH ? Old Captain Smith is not a very captivating sight ; His trousers bag at both his knees, his coat is never right. His shoes are not acquainted with a black- ing brush or shine, And he lives in the little house across the way from mine. Old Captain Smith would never take a prize at a beauty show, But for a help in time of need Re’s .the surest thing I know. When father had pneumonia and v +her had the flu, That blessed man came ’round each day to see what he could do. He isn’t one to go around and tell what he has done, Of all the wood that he has sawed and errands he has run, But he’s ever ready, day or night, a help- ing hand to lend; He’s the greatest kind of neighbor and I know he is my friend. Now right next door to Captain Smith lives Deacon Moses Brown, And on my friend Old Captain Smith he is inclined to frown. The Deacon’s tall and very straight, and a very pious fellow ; In church he’ll pray quite long and loud in a voice quite soft and mellow. His shoes are blacked, his hair is brushed till it glistens in the sun, And the Deacon is quite prone to boast of the great deeds he has done. He’ll borrow one’s whole chest of tools (for that he has a knack), And then he won’t remember to ever bring them back. But if you happen to be sick and in need of a little help, Just ask the Beaccn foi Joan and you’ll quickly hear hi m ye Now this is what I wish to ask each reader of this ver se, Which neighbor is my comfort and which neighbor is my curse? Richard Ralph— 1921. TWO DUELS In a lonely glen of the Giant Forest, two combatants fought furiously for the love of a fair lady. One of them must have lived about twenty eventful years. He fought with a fiery ardour, while the other was older, and seamed more cool and wary. The duellists fought alone under the sparkling sun and moving shadows, and excent the clash of their swords in some clever parry, not a sound was heard from either, yet there was no unfair play. But the strain was telling on the older man; when a quick thrust of his was easily turned aside by his opponent, he went completely to pieces and lunged wildly, leaving him- self quite unguarded. The boy was quick to make use of his opportunity and soon he had give n a mortal thrust which laid his rival smirching the clean glass with his spurting blood. Young Arthur looked at his dying cousin Duval in horror. He had not meant to kill and this was the first time that he had ever fought such a bloody duel. Duval tried to speak, but he could not, and Arthur stared at him fascinated as he watched tlm life ebb slowly from the man. Then sud- denly he turned and ran, gripped by a nameless horror of death. He did not wish to return with the blood of his cousin staining his hands, to J eanette, who was the cause of the duel, yet he could not keep away from her. Three days later Jeanette told him she would have nothing to do with him and she wept bitterly when she heard for the first time of Duval’s death. Arthur turned from her with bitter hat- red surging in his heart. He had com- mitted a crime for nothing and Jeanette whom he adored, despised him. He com- menced to walk in blind anger towards