Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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O . I looked myself over I was reminded of a bear on my native hillside who, at the beginning of winter, came stag¬ gering uj) the hill under his load of fat, seeking for Ins winter-quarters; but, when tlie sun again a]q)roaehed the equinox, he went forth a living skeleton. Such was I; but excuse this digression, let us proceed. A man picked ]) a handful of these strips, pounded us on end and sides and worse yet, pushed us against a set of eleven saws. In we went until I gave up all hopes of longer clinging to my broth¬ ers, but just in time we were pulled back, cut off just two and a half inches long, and there we were in com])anies of twelve, held together by a half inch of wood at one end. A woman’s hand- next picked us up and deposited us in a long, narrow, box-like channel where some sort of machinery shook us about and knocked us on our heads until mine was nearly cracked with its a(;hes and bruises. I heard the woman say that we were being “racked.” I have no reason to dis])ute her, for I certain ly was racked—racked fore and aft. Much to my surprise, as we bounced up, I found that our sets of twelves were arranged alternately heads and tails, so to speak, just as you find ns in the bunches you buy. Then we were placed in jack-screws where we were squeezed and jammed to such a degree that I became so heated by my wrath and my sufferings I nearly set the whole establishment on fire. After a time a boy removed me to a shed at a distance from the main building—I heard someone say that there was dan¬ ger of fire—and there I found that “the terrors of the wicked awaited me. Brimstone, oh how suffocating! Phos¬ phorus, oh how hot! There was no hesitation on the part of him who held the jack-screw in which we were held fast. Down he dipped us right into the batli of melted sulphur and then into one of ])hosphorus. One would think that, by this time, the little life still remaining in us’would have been exhausted; but it’s wonderful with what a tenacious grip we all hold on to life in this world of struggling and suffering and—What ? Too much wan¬ dering? Well, well, bear with me a moment, I’m nearly through. A little time for drying was given us and then a thoughtless, unfeeling girl (I really couldn’t helj) admiring her dextei ' ity though) grabbed myself and my eleven friends together with seven othei- cards (that is what she called them) slapped down—What’s that? My dic¬ tion isn’t very elegant? Well, 1 know that, but that’s just what she did all the same—a piece of brown tissue paper and with a rapid whirl and a folding up of the ends, I was impris¬ oned in a cell. Although my eyes I were thus blinded I kept my ears wide ! open and so learned that our ninety- six were only one bunch of many— that thirty-five other bunches were with us in one package and that four of these made what they call a gross. Queer word, isn’t it ? I heard one of the clerks down to the store where I was sold say that it came from the Latin crassus, meairmg fat or thick. I don’t see anything fat about us. Do you? Yes, yes. I’ll hurry on. We were ])acked in great wooden cases and carried off a long, long distance and, after many vicissitudes on latid and water, here am I in your hand ready to do your bidding. I hope that you have enjoyed my lucid ex- planation and—What? Not lucid enough? Want more light? Well, strike me then. Oh, Ell and Eye. In a Milford Straw Shop. As I had resided in Milford for nearly twelve years and had never seen how straw hats were made, I de¬ termined to visit one of the principal factories. The foreman had a little leisure and kindly offered to show me over the woi’ks. He first took me to the stock room whore many different classes of braid were kept that came from different parts of the world. A few of the different kinds were Jap¬ anese Mackinaw from Japan, Canton from China, Leghorn and Milan from Italy and genuine Mackinaw from Michigan and lower Canada, He next conducted me to the reeling room where the girls were employed getting the braid ready for the sewing iiall by measuring, assorting and wind¬ ing it on wooden reels. In the sew¬ ing room we found the machines in constant operation. Some of the op¬ eratives begun the hat by sewing a part of the crown, some sewed the crown and others sewed the brim and put in the size marks. In the blocking room we saw the men pinning the hats to the 1)locks and then i)utting them in the drying room. When taken out of the drying room they were ready for the press room, where we saw the men sha])ing and smoothing the better class of goods by hand, but the cheaper grades were put into hydraulic presses. The hats then went to the trimming room. Here the girls were employed putting in leathers, sewing on bands and mak¬ ing satin tips. These tij)S were very neat and attractive, embracing all colors imaginable and each having a design upon it. The leathers were nearly all made of sheepskin. These were the most pmportant processes, al¬ though there were others, as the wash- ino- and bleaching and the steam blocking. As these hats pass from one room to another they receive careful inspection from each overseer. The number of hats finished here was about four hundred dozen a day in the busy season. The greatest wonder was the Ma¬ nila and Java rooni. Here we saw the hats as th ey came from the far-off Manila Islands , hardly bearing any re¬ semblance to a hat but under the hands of the workmen they were made to assume the sliapes tliat are so desirable and attractive. In the dye¬ ing sho]), which was in connection with this department, we had no de¬ sire to remain for a ' long time on ac¬ count of tlie steam and unpleasant odor. Here all the delicate shades and tints were brought out by a man who had made this a lifelong study. The foreman told me that one of the finest straw hats they made was the genuine Mackinaw of which I have spoken befoi-e. These hats were first introduced in Philadelphia by a man who had been making a fishing tour through Canada. He purchased a few at twenty-five cents each and readily disposed of them in Philadel¬ phia for five dollars apiece. They proved a success and he gave them the name from the Mackinaw Indians who first braided them. Fearing that we were intruding too much on the foreman’s time, we hastened on feel¬ ing very grateful for the attention shown us and well rewarded for our time and trouble. H. B. s. ’89. Human Verbs. As Anchises, from a mound in the realms of Pluto, pointed out to Aeneas, the long line of his descendants, who were to go forth upon earth, and by their heroic valor make Rome the mistress of the ancient world, so let us imagine ourselves on a lofty outlook, and, gazing down ui)on the familiar faces of our friends, try to characterize them as they pass. Surely they are acting, they are existing, and as this is the definition of a verb, or action word, why not classify them as human verbs? But since tlm abi lities and ]»dwers of men, as well as verbs, are very diverse, and “Man in his life plays many parts,” we shall assign to each one the part that he plays in the great drama of life. See how steadily these go pressing on. They are the active verbs. The busy men of the world, who, never wearying of work, ever strive for suc¬ cess in life and, not content with their own e.xertions, furnish enqJoyment to their fellow men by building factories, work shops, and other places of busi¬ ness. They are the backbone of the

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VoL. III. MILFORD, MASS., APRIL, 1887. No. 8. I’m Your Match. Do not be alarmed ; for I’m not a Sullivan pugilist nor that to which a young man’s fancy lightly turns in spring-time, so paint no cottage red with love for me. The pugilist, to be sure, often makes you see sparks oi fire com¬ monly called stars, and the lover’s life is full of but I bring only a momentary light to man, yet in that moment I am a power for good and evil. I light his household fire to cook his food and warm his home. At the close of day, when weary of labor, he reclines on vine-clad piazza, I inflame the narcotic weed which sends his cares whirling in (douds of smoke up into airy space. Sometimes, gnawed by wandering rodents, I burst into flame and destroy this same domestic paradise. At other times the inquisi¬ tive two-year-old, bent on m ischief, tries my taste-able jjroperties and voles me “wholly bad.” Then I have a lit tie trick, when struck, of unexpectedly sending u]) a noxious gas into the striker’s nasal organ which is apt to make a breach between us, and he naughtily exclaims, “O Lucifer!” Yes, I ' m Lucifer, the light bearer, not his Satanic majesty, the bearer of dark¬ ness. What of my pedio-ree, do you ask? Well, my life is the old, old sto¬ ry— a coming into existence, a fash¬ ioning for future usefulness and its fulfilment and then, lost to the eves of man, my individual elements set free take their places again in that cease¬ less round of atoms which goes march¬ ing on and on like J. Brown’s soul iti the song of other days. If, now, you really wish to know how I came into your hand in this strangely metamor¬ phosed condition. I’ll tell you as brief¬ ly as I can. Only a short month ago I was a liv¬ ing part of a pine tree on a hill-aide miles and miles from here, and there I stood and sunned myself, and summer breezes moved me, and the birds built their nests, and the birdlets,—Too po¬ etical, did you say? Well, don’t ring that bell and I’ll give you prose then. A biped like you came along one day and with his shining steel laid this parent pine low; then he lopped off its branches, cut off its tapering body and left the trunk bare and mutilated. Soon there came other men with pa¬ tient, plodding oxen who loaded my tree with many others, my old com¬ panions, on great wheels. Then, away we went jolting and grinding one another until it seemed as if every fi¬ bre would be crushed to a shapeless mass of pulp. Where a branch had been cut off, I had a chance to look out upon my surroundings and also to listen to what was said. You may be sure that my anxiety was so great about my future that I allowed noth¬ ing to escape me. By verdant farm lands, by houses and barns, by shops and country stores we slowly crawled along. The reason that no snails passed us on the road was because there were none going our way. How destitute of nerves our driver must have been to adapt his step so easily to the sleepy pace of the laboring cat¬ tle !—guess he must have been hired by the day. Well, after a long time we turned aside from the highway and beside a long, low building from whose roof escaped a white cloud of steam and from whose open window discor¬ dant sounds came forth which set my nerves on edge, we were unceremo¬ niously dumped u])on the ground with hundreds of others whom I recognized as old friends who in former days had mysteriously disappeared. Wearied by the loss of sap and the sufferings of the morning I fell into a doze, but for how long I cannot say; for I was suddenly aroused and found myself being hurried along into the building with others and immediately pushed sidewise against a great saw. Piece after piece was amputated and, before I had recovered from my fi ' ight, my trimk had fallen in a dozen pieces and I, in one of these, was picked up and roughly thrown upon a moving table when, oh horrors! I was sawn from end to end and all the parts of the trunks were reduced to mere planks. There was no rest, again our lengths were reduced by a third saw to many diffei’eiit sizes, but always to some multiple of my present length. How¬ ever, in this third cutting, there was one satisfaction; for some knotty neighbors just below me in the parent ti-uuk who had been a constant annoy¬ ance were then thrown out, and at the same time, too, some unlucky ones just above who had always been afiiict- ed with all the ills to which wood is heir. These were ignominiously thrust into a roaring fire under a great boiler wiiich furnished power to tor¬ ture their old companions. Up an elevator then we hurried to a large box full of steam so hot and stifling that I fell in a dead faint and only re¬ covered my senses to find myself in the hands of a girl who thrust me un¬ der a great slasher, so she called it, but I heard a visitor who stood near by say that it was just like a guillotine, whatever that is. I felt pretty thin, I assure you, when I flew off from this pitiless knife, in fact, nearly as thin as I now am, but we were still twelve of us nestling beside one another and be¬ yond us were other twelves. A boy then packed hundreds of these strips into a box and carried us into a room so hot that I lost my breath, my eyes closed and 1 knew nothing until I was taken out into daylight again and carried up a flight of stairs into a room where the buzz of saws gave me an earache. I was deposited upon a table, but how changed! 1 must have slept in that drying room a long time ; for I was so shrunken and all the moisture of my body seemed to have left it. As

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L Z LIT country, as the Rocky Mountains arc of the continent and, as here and there among the mountains, some peaks rising above their neighbors pierce the clouds, so among the great numbers of active men, tliere are tliose who, by tlieir wonderful skill and ability, have become the railroad kings, the merchant princes, the inventors and the true scholars. But here are the passive men. What a strikiiig contrast in appearance! Men who are practically dead to the world, who care for naught but their own affairs, many of whom even de¬ pend on their active friends for their subsistence. It is unnecessary to call them by name. Next come defective verbs. In one sense of the word all would be in¬ cluded in this class. For who is ])er- fect? But here we mean men who have no strength of mind or will, and like the thistledown that is blown by the wind through the fields, they are influenced by the breath of pojiular o])inion. They may, indeed, possess many excellent qualities, which would enable them to better their station in life, but they lack a balance wheel. England and America, eacli mourn a poet of this class, and while admiring their practical genius, they acknowl¬ edge the weakness of their characters. Now come those who resemble pas¬ sive men both in form and appearance, dej)onent men. But, notwithstanding their outward resemblance, their char¬ acter is V ry different; they ])ossess mental power and latent force, which, if aroused, will perhaps make them distinguished before men. Like Gold- smith, who, from the foot of his class in college, rose to bo one of England’s greatest writei ' s. Here, side by side, are regular and irregular verlis. The one, like a strong current, flowing steadily down the stream of life, obcvs the laws of God aiid man, and is ever ready to help his fellow man, who may be less fortunate than he. The other is just the Q])po- site in every particular. Impersonal men follow next. Those who have no ideas of their own, but, like a mirror, reflect the opinions and thoughts of others; whether for good or evil, depends on the source of the reflected ideas. After these come inceptive verbs, or the men who are always beginning some great actions, but, for want of tact- or perseverance, fail in tlieir undertakings; like the butterfly, which flits from flower to flower, they flit from one action to anotlier, and the result is, they accomiilish nothing. Coleridge, the English poet, too well illustrates this fickleness. Now, reflexive verbs, or selfish men, pass before our view. The greater part of this class is represented by the misers, hoarding up riches, ]ierhaps dl-gottcn, which neither benefit them¬ selves nor any one else. The i-n g verbs are their followers in the verbal procession. These are the men who take as their motto in life, perseverance, the jiivot on Avhich turns all success. Indeed, what worthier or more fitting examjiles of this class can be found, than Robert Bruce, the tale of whose jierseverancc is known to every school-boy, and Galvani, and Kejiler, all of whom, by their wonderful constancy, and their great achievements have made others mindful of themselves. Others there are who go hurrying by, but they differ so slightly from those already mentioned, that we shall not detain them, for our allotted time is past, and we, too, must descend in¬ to the plain of life. There on the world’s broad stage, let each one play his part as a regular, transitive verb in the first person, singular, present indicative, active. A. A. T. c. Aprils in the History of Milford- It is a singular coincidence and an interesting fact that some of the most important events in the history of our town occurred during the month of April. A part of the territory which passes under the name of Milford was, with what is now known as JMendon and Ilopedale, the original Quinshi- paug plantation bought of the Indians who formerly lived on it. Quinshi[)aug is our Indian name and means “pick¬ erel pond.” The people who lived in the Easterly Precinct (as the land east of Mill River was called) wished very much to be set off by themselves and made into a town, separate from Men- don. The people on the other side of the river were o])posed to the division, and this, of course, occasioned many bitter struggles, lasting irom 1758 down to 1780; but finally, the petition for division, having been sent to the General Court and also having passed, after three separate readings, the East¬ ern Precinct was incorjiorated as the town of Milford, April 11, 1780. The new town had an area of about nine¬ teen square miles, and occupied the territory now bounded by Ilopkinton, Holliston and Bellingham; its po))ula- tion was about seven hundred and sixty, one hundred and fifty-two of whom were legal voters; the inhabi¬ tants were mostly hard-working farm¬ ers, with a few mechanics, and they live l in houses which were widely scattered over the town; the roads were in a very poor condition and there was not a schoolhouse inside the limits. After the incorporation of the town. the nex t stc]i was the organization, and so wo find the date of the warrant issued for our first town meeting, to be AjyrU ' lb, 1780, the meeting being held on May 1st. By an act of the General Court, on the first day of Aprils 1859, the boun¬ dary lines between Milford and llol- liston were changed. By the change the south-western part of Holliston (what is called Braggville) was an¬ nexed to Milford and the boundary between the two towns permanently fixed. A little over a year ago, the people living in Ilopedale and South Milford wished to be set off by themselves, as they had a sufficient ai-ea and popula¬ tion, and because their manufactures and business so widely differed from Milford’s; also, they thought that the distance between the two towms was a good enough reason for division. So they sent a bill to the Legislature |)etitioning to be separated from Mil¬ ford and incorporated into a town. After a hard fight, the bill passed both branches of the Legislature and re- ceived the signature of the Governor, April fi, 1886, on which date Hope- dale became a towm. By the division Milford lost about one-tenth of her population and one-fifth of her valua¬ tion. Perhaps other events as Avorthy of notice and as interesting, which took place in this month, might be recalled, but the preceding ones are naturally the first which would come to the mind. . av. p., ’87. Pure Drugs, Chemicals, Medicines and Physicians Prescriptions a Specialty. P. J.-DONOHOE, Assistant. MAIN ST., COR. COURT, MILFORD. Geo. H. Whittemore, Dealer in Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, Silverware, Spectacles and Eye-Glasses. AVatch, Clock and Jewelry Repairing. 110 Main Street. Milford. ► CURRIER KENDALL. OWE PRICE Gentlemen’s Furni shing Goods, HATS, CAPS,TRUNKS, ETC. POST OFFICE BLOCK, MILFORD.