Mayville High School - Rocket Yearbook (Mayville, WI)

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The Rocket M. H. S. '23 The Rocket Qld Fashioned Gardens As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunHowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them. HENRY WARD Baacnsn In the olden days-or the golden days, gardens were next to paradise, places where contentment and happiness were stored up in every fragrant bud and blossom. Perhaps it was the custom of our grandmothers and our grandfathers to have large gardens, with millions of varieties of fiowers and plants, but what if-had not they found pleasure, contentment, and love amidst the foliage of wondrous per- fumes and shadows of Nature's own gift to whoever would take it to heart-I dare say even love was kindled and restored in many of these wonderful and rapturous visions of heaven on earth. Who could restrain the feeling of happiness and tingling joy, to be amidst rows and rows of balmy poppies and tulips? The evenings were usually spent in the cool invigorating air of these gardens, where the many tiny song birds afforded sweet, rapturous music throughout the long and quiet evenings of the summer. What could be sweeter than a quiet stroll along the various paths, and winding terraces, surrounded by hosts of scented fiowers--here a bed of pansies and there a cluster of hollyhocks of different hues and shadings, closed and silent for a quiet rest, and, in the corner away from the bright staminous flowers, a little bed of forget-me-nots. Along the whitewashed walls clambered a neat trellis of tiny wax-like roses. In the center of the garden was usually a large fountain, filled with lofty, balmy daffodils that danced and fluttered in each saucy breeze. Tiny, sensi- tive fish, brilliant as the flowers surrounding the fountain, hurried to and fro among the twining stems of the water-lilies. - Oftimes when the dusk had settled upon the world and tiny stars began to appear in the heavens, she had waited passionately for her bespoken lover to arrive.- Beautiful as the roses beside her, she sat head buried in her hands-weeping, but lovely-A footstep on the soft moss-trod path announced his arrival to her- Did not the gardens of a century or two ago prove more enchanting and lovely than the clamor and confusion of the din of music and luster in a modern Terrace Garden. GONE!-But not forgotten-no, never! are these gardens, which passed with the departure of so passionate and lovable a generation,--I do heartily commend the attitude in which our forefathers have said it to her with 4'flowers , and the efforts in which our poets and writers have striven to portray the lifelike sentiment of the OLD FASHIONED GARDENS. Cam. MUENCH Page Twenty-eight H

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The Rocket M. H. S. '23 The Rocket the dressing room. Here we got a telegram of encouragement from our old friend, Mr. Nordby. Next we were given our final advice by Coaches Brooks and Prinz and waited for the result of the preliminary game. As soon as this game was over we heard the crowd yelling and band playing in the gym while the Oshkosh team made its appearance. The time then came for us to appear. We made our appearance while the band was playing and the crowd yelling as they never yelled before. Familiar voices greeted us from all around during the game. At last the final whistle blew, and three hundred Mayville hearts missed a beat. The fine points of the game are history. We lost, but we lost fighting. We spent one more night at Oshkosh and the following day left for Mayville. The trip from Oshkosh to Fond du Lac was made in the interurban and ended with a Larry Semon act hy Toddy. Toddy left his grip on the interurban and after walking about a block realized his mistake. He ran after the car yelling and waving his hands and before Mr. Brooks had him under control he attracted the attention of half the city. ln waiting for the train to arrive, we walked about the city of Fond du Lac. The Dinkey at last pulled in and we were soon speeding at the rate of 10 miles an hour back to the land of our dreams. There was no chance for escape at the water tank so we had to get off at the depot. Here an incident occurred that has no precedent in Mayville History. We were met by a band and a large group of citizens who escorted us in a funeral procession through the intricate mazes of our city streets to the home of Dr. A. E. Bachhuber. A big feed awaited us there fno eggsj and we did full justice to all of it. Thus endeth the last chapter of the revelations of Muggins and Hank. A merry heart doeth good like a medicineg but a broken spirit drieth the bones. The Third Hour In the tenth seat the twelfth row One springy afternoon, We heard dear SqualJbie's little voice And Schatzie's merry boom. Miss Schuberis voice was rather soft, Amid the merry din, She singled out sweet Schatzie fat W ho'd poked Squab with a pin. The theme of discussion is reading, Schatzie calmly barked. Never mind your reading now, Miss Schuber then remarked. They both proceeded to study Their thoughts with their reading entwined, Work proceeded happily, In a silence that was sublime. HAZEL Page T wenty-seven

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The Rocket M. H. S. '23 The Rocket Safact There was a student who loved no studies, And books with deepset knowledge, And teachers standing by their desksg And between much loafing and no studying He found time to play football, And have three touchdowns, And graduate with an athlete's pride. And there was a student who studied long lessons, Sitting in his study by an electric lamp, Turning many pages And brushing the dust from his mindg And between Plato and Robert Browning He found time to play football, And have three touchdowns, And graduate with a students pride. And there was a student who loved long lessons, Sitting in his study by an electric lamp, Turning numerous pages And adding light to his mental darknessg And between Plato and Shakespeare He found no time for football, And three touchdowns, And graduated with a bookworm's pride. Tonight the wind tickles three tombstones, And only a wry-faced moon hears them talking, Talking about football and loafing, Talking about Plato and Robert Browning. Age We have been sick and weary Sadly torn and dreary Of both body and minds. Never-the-less you must confess That our success hasn't been any less For being so weary at times. Page Twenty-nine