Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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9 ' ir 7 i 0 LITERARY OEPARWNT 6 S V o MUSIC Tlie tall stately poplars and beautiful green maples, which lined the shaded street, swayed lightly while their leaves rustled gently in the soft breeze. A blue stream with its smooth white peb- bles gurgled slowly along, and the yel- low golden-rod nodded its head, as if realizing the splendor of this autumn day. Along tlie road, unmindful of everything, comes a man who at)t)ears at first to be rather old and then upon scrutinizing him further one understands that it is not age, but care that has so advanced his years. Wdio can this strange-a])j)earing, dififident man be? — Why, it is James Blake, wdio ran away from home twelve years ago and whose family, formeily one of the most wealthy of that town, now had been reduced to ])Overty because all of their riches had l)een ex])ended in searching for this lost son. As he walks carelessly along, he sud- denly glances up and sees the church, the same old, gray, vine-clad edifice that he had attended as a boy. His next move- ments are unusual, almost those of a crazed ])erson. He stops, starts to run, and then hesitates, looks at his hands, mox ' ing his fingers oddly, and finally races, with all ])ossible s])eed, to the church door.. Again he halts, and iion- ders, as if wondering whether he dares darken the doors of this sacred place, and then slowly enters. Ide advances. almost fearfully, toward the organ, seats himself, and, quietly at first, he touches his fingers to those worn keys which res])ond in a tone that only an artist could jiroduce. After playing various measures of hymns which came to his mind, he commenced Handel’s “Largo,” one of the most familiar and best loved organ jiieces in the world. In the fallen dowm house, just in the rear of the church, a woman praying for her son, heard the strains of this mas- terpiece coming to her like a message over the air. “Wy son! Wy son!” she cried, hurrying to the place of worship — and u])on seeing him knelt down by the altar, weeping and murmuring, “Thank God! The “Largo” which had begun so beau tif 11.11 V was not finished that dav. Elizabeth Glover, ’27. IN A TEA CUP Between two beautiful, old fashioned gardens there could be found a high gate which should have been the means of an intimate relationship between Airs. Wdlson and Aliss Hammond.. Yet this gate had been only a barrier for some weeks, ever since a silly quarrel of these one-time friends. Both women were lonely and longed for the former companionship, but ]:)ride jirohibited each from making the first advances toward reconciliation. Airs. Wilson, however, had a curious char- acteristic which eventually brought hap- 8

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Editorial have grown, tlie graduating class, from puny insignificant freshmen through the intermediate stages of the sophomore and junior years unto our present lofty position as graduating seniors. From an unorganized mob of children we have gradually evolved into a unified body of sympathizing mem- bers. Particularly during the past year We have formed closely knitted friend- shi])s. q desire to maintain t ' jiese comradeships through the days to come for they are too precious to break off abruptly. These thoughts bring to mind the stereotyped expression “the parting of our ways.” After all in the true sense of the thing, however, are we all to choose different ])aths? To our mind, it is only now at graduation that we com- mence to tread the real road of life. To use a different example this is not the jumping-off but the diving-in place. We have not been treading the main road together and do not now face the prob- lem of choosing which fork of the road ahead to take. Rather is it our concep- tion that through our ha])]jy years of school together we first trod the narrow paths, then the beaten trails, and now reach the i)oint where our recently travelled side road turns into the broad iiighway ,of the world’s progress. T do not take different directions but merely follow the trend of travel l)y va- rious routes of travel. Our destination is the same although our time and means of arrival be unlike. Before us, like the Star of the Wise Men, there gleams the ever receding glow of glorious Success ! As we pass along in our destined place in the race of the living let us peer over the heads of the common])lace confusion of the throng, or out of our ])rivate car, or down from the cock-j)it of our air- craft, as the case may vary with the circumstance and seek to single out and recognize some friend of our memorable days together as the class of 1927. CUB STAFF 1928 Editor-In-Chief, Richard Durham, ’28; Business Manager, Peter Gonis, ’28; Ad- vertising Manager, Robert Elwell, ’28; Literary Editors, Mary Patch, ’28, Al- thea Howe, ’28, Barbara Damon, ’29; Art Editor, Dorothy Dunn, ’29; Social Editor, Elizateth Gove. ’28; Reporters. Ruth Beals, ’29, Edward Dolan, ' ?, 0 ; Alumni Editor, Thelma Bailey. ’28; Ath- letic Editor, Norman Baxter, ’29; Ex- change Editor, Ruth Arthur, ’28. TIGER STAFF 1927

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piness to the Iwo women. She was very su])erstitious. I ' hus, while sittiiyi at a solitary meal she brooded over her lost friendshi]) and was striig-glin wdth her l)ride. Still buffeted by her many emo- tions, she stopped, from force of habit, to read her fortune of tea leaves in the Clip. W’ithin the cup there stood forth very distinctly — an olive branch, a sign of truce and an omen of jieace. Because Mrs. W ' ilson was so very super- stitious there seemed nothing for her to do excejit to send the olive branch to Miss Hammond, and in truth, she never would have thought of doing otherwise, thereby renewing happiness and content- ment through an understanding friend- shi|). Laura Gordon ’27 GHOSTS? f’erhajis some of you rememlier about how I saved the life of a rich man’s son and incidentally spoiled my car. The man whose son 1 saved jiromised me an- other car. This was fine but along came my report card saying that I need- ed some more study. A stern guiding hand saw to it that T did this needecl plugging. Consequently I didn’t see my new car for two months. d ' his contra]:)tion that I have stioken so much about was a wonder. The motor was of the racing tyj e which has won many of the late races. Tt had a special cooling system which was siqij osed to keep it at exactly the right temperature. 1 he body was a low and racy speed-about of maroon finish. Its price was way u]) into the fifth column of figures. All this would have made me very happy excejit for the way in which it was given me When my rich friend had donated it, he said, rather sarcastically it seemed to me. he hoped I would like it. Alaybe my nerves were ragged from too much study but anyway it bothered me. The. first time I had a chance to try out my new possession came after an especially long session with the books. T forgot all my troubles and stepjied into her. Out of the garage we rolled. My! what a smooth, jiowerful motor. Away wc went through the night air. The feeling of contentment that 1 ex- ])erienced 1 don’t believe can be parallel- led on this earth.. A comfortable seat, cool air fanning my ch.eeks, and the won- derful realization that 1 had under my control a creation which could surmount any obstacle which the road might ])re- sent. .1 was the king of the road with the ])erfection of s])eed, power, and com- fort at my command. This contentment was too good to last. Over me stole an impending sense of disaster. It was like the a])pearance of the “dread harvester’’ at a celebra- tion. All the things in which 1 had had pleasure a few minutes before became omens of evil. The comfortable seat was to lull me to sleep while the car carried me to my death. The wonderful power was another way to lure me on to destruction. The imps of Me])histo formed an army whose front rank kept pace with me just beyond my range of vision. 1 he time for my undoing had not yet arrived. W ' hen it came, all these powers would combine and I might as well give U]). J was as insignificant as a gnat before the hurricane. ere these things the imaginings of ragged nerves? Lerhaiis so. The wind blew with more vigor on my cold, fear blanched brow. Oh ! What was that ? A bloodcurdling shriek, the disa])pear- ance of all lights on the car. The sliriek continued varying from a shrill crescen- do to a low strangling moan. A soft green light came from the ventilation parts of the engine hood. The shriek, the luminous light, and the sulphuric smell blended into one terrifying inpires- sion that I was about to be annihilated. I trembled as if with the ])alsy groveling and jiraying for mercy. The car sto])ped bill not so with the shriek which now increased in volume. The terrifving green light flickered, the fumes of sui- phur nearly stifled me. W ' ould this toture never cease? T s all this would fade away to be replaced by something in- finitely worse. Molten lead seemed to 9