Madison Heights High School - Monelison Yearbook (Madison Heights, VA)

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Glass iPropliecy One clay in late October en route home from work, I decided to walk into the woods for awhile to enjoy the mellow richness among the clustered trees. The more I walked louder grew the rustle of the leaves, which were falling around me like an April shower. At a distance ahead of me the path seemed upward, leading to a small cottage, almost too small to be called a cottage. As I drew nearer and nearer I saw the outline of an old woman seated on the doorstep. “Doesn’t she look like a witch?” thought I. Just then I beheld her smoking a pipe, and when she spied me she took a long draw, and then all that wras visible was a cloud of smoke. I continued on as I knew a short cut over the hill to my home; but on reaching the cottage door my curiosity got the better of me, and I paused a moment—almost unconsciously turning the knob of the door. There the old witch stood poking at the dying embers on the hearth. “Come in, my dear, that I may show you some beauties in my fire,” she replied. Soon the witch put a charm over me. And suddenly from the visions in the fire, she carried me over much territory. first I saw a street in New York. A handsomely dressed lady stepped from a limousine. Looking closer, I realized that her cheeks were painted, her eyebrows penciled, and her hair blacked with dye. “That is Janie White, who owns numerous picture shows, and is the pattern for fashion in America.” I was horror-stricken and closed my eyes. I heard a voice that 1 thought I had heard before. Looking up, I saw a sweet little home covered with rambler roses. A neatly dressed lady came to the door. Up the walk came a handsome man. “Duval, dear, you are late,” was the gentle reproof. He put his arm around her, and as they entered the house, I recognized my classmate, Martha Andrews. The picture faded, and in its place I saw Thomas Ballowe as Instructor of a large English Department in Porto Rico. As the scene changed from Porto Rico to New' York, I saw that Lena Panck had completed her course as stenographer, and accepted a position in Franklin Simmond’s large department store. The fire grew brighter, I saw Main Street in Lynchburg. I noticed there was much competition between Marguerite Hudson and Mrs. Sheard Shoppe’ de Coiffeur. 15

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At the end of our third year. Miss Doyle drilled us in a beautiful pageant, and presented it in the auditorium. It was a perfect success, giving all visitors great pleasure. When we reached our senior year we became quite dignified, as we realized our responsibility to our school. We must accomplish many things in many difficult situations. As I review the past I see many changes. The girls no longer wear long braids, everyone except Mamie has bobbed hair, and the dresses shock our grandmothers. Do you recall our anxiety over our class rings? One day our president asked us to come to her home as she had a surprise for us— how curious we were—we could hardly wait for the time to start—and the surprise was (?) our rings. May we always be worthy of them. At Christmas we had a Junior-Senior party, all received presents and had a jolly time. Just after mid-term exams we decided to have a se iior class minstrel. We worked hard and again had a most successful play. It was given first at our auditorium, then repeated on February 24th, and thanks to Miss Woodward and Miss Doyle, who gave us their loyal support, it was again a great success. The proceeds were for the Annual, and the piano fund. Then came the May pageant, examinations, and commencement, when we sang “Hail and Farewell, Dear Companions.” —Alice Tanner.

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Next I saw the White House. The president and his cabinet were seated around the table. I was surprised to see Marion Peyton, Secretary of Treasury, but thought she ought to be well prepared, judging by the financial positions she held while in high school. At the other end of the table was Hubert Dameron, Secretary of War. I was very proud of the fact that some of our classmates had risen into the political world. I thought of Miss Bowler, and realized that her efforts had not been in vain. The fire blazed and I saw the Valley of Virginia, and one of the largest poultry farms of the Valley was owned by Adelbert Thomson. Again the fire flamed up and 1 saw a figure which was so resplendent in a four-inch black and white plaid suit that at first I did not recognize him as Regnier Miller. He told me he was walking advertisement for Shearer Brothers. Next I saw a building which the witch said was Randolph-Macon College. The door opened and I saw at a desk an elderly lady. “She is president,” explained the witch. Imagine my astonishment when I recognized Alice Tanner. I gazed into the fire—I saw a beautiful building that was Johns Hopkins Hospital. Coming down the hall was the superintendent, really could it be Marguerite Kash? Looking around I saw Columbia Teachers College. I recognized Mamie Pettyjohn as professor of Nutrition. As the fire popped I heard three rahs. Then a football field flashed before my eyes. It must have been the beginning of the game for the coaches, Russell Horton and Coleman Neblett, of Harvard and Yale, respectively, came out on the field and greeted each other heartily. As things grew quiet, a high school loomed up in sight. I saw a class of forty pupils. A modest lady was speaking French so fluently and distinctly that no one could fail to hear or understand. I was astonished when a pupil said, “Miss Ruth Mclvor.” As the fire grew low I thanked the old lady for her scenes and bid her goodbye. As I followed the winding path homeward I stopped by our new drug store, “Harris Wright.” These classmates had been successful as druggist and doctor in our town. As I retired that night 1 was proud to know that the Class of ’27 had been so successful. —Nellie E. Viar.