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

Page 9 text:

OAK, LILY AND IVY. 7 jamin Helm Bristow, born Feb. 28, 1885, Dorothy, born Nov. 22, 1890, and Eben S., Jr., born Aug. 30, 1893. Mr. Draper has always maintained a lively concern in all matters of public interest and in those enterprises which tend towards improvement and advancement. He has upon two occasions honored graduation classes of the Milford High School by presenting the diplomas. d he Scroll of Fame contains the names of several whose centennial anniver¬ saries will be celebrated during the year 1909. One hundred years ago, Lincoln, Emerson, Poe, Mendelssohn and Darwin entered upon those careers which have been so advantageous to mankind. These men have achieved distinction in Art, Literature, Science and Philanthropy, and their memories will be perpetuated as long as the influence of their accomplishments will be felt. To Poe, whether one like Dupin or not, we owe the detective story, and we draw from him our best models of the short story. Of poetry, Tennyson and Poe offer us the most exquisite and harmonious verse. Mendelssohn will live on in the marvelous melodies which he has bequeathed to us. While these men have gained great fame in subjects which interest particular classes, Lincoln’s achievements appeal to everyone and are of universal interest. Rising from the most extreme poverty, contending with the greatest odds, gaining recognition because of his probity and honor, Lincoln advanced with perseverance toward the richly deserved presidency of the United States. In the greatest crisis that the United States ever underwent, when precedent gave absolutely no indication as to the course which should be pursued, Lincoln’s calm foresight and wise judgment selected the most suitable and fitting means for preserving the welfare of the nation. He presented millions of men, women and children with the most precious right to which they were entitled, and that act alone would perpetuate his memory forever. Abraham Lincoln was the greatest man America ever produced, and the tribute offered to his memory upon the hundredth anniversary of his birth should and will be in accordance with the honor due him. The Milford Daily Journal has donated a Lincoln medal, to be awarded to the pupil of the Milford High School who writes the best essay on “Lincoln.” The essay must consist of at least 600 words and of not more than 800, must be typewritten, and must be handed to the principal on or before February 5th. The essay will be read by the winner at the public exercises on February 12th, when the medal will be formally awarded. The medal will be the permanent property of the winner.

Page 8 text:

6 OAK, LILY AND IVY. Mr. Draper is a member of the corporation of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, a member of the Board of Managers of the Milford Hospital, which Mrs. Draper and he presented to the town of Milford. He is a member of the Board of Trustees of the Peter Bent Brigham Hospital and vice-president of the American Unitarian association. With his brother, Mr. Geo. A. Draper, he built a very hue stone Unitarian church in Hopedale as a memorial to their father and mother. Mr. Draper was a member of the Mass. Militia for three years, and on the outbreak of the Spanish war he was made president of the Massachusetts Volun¬ teer Aid Association by Governor Wolcott. This association purchased and equipped the hospital ship “Bay State,” at an expense of $200,000, also raising $200,000 more for the care of the Massachusetts soldiers and sailors. He was also chairman of the Massachusetts Association for the relief of California. In 1905 the Republican State convention unanimously nominated him for Lieutenant-Governor of the commonwealth, and he was elected, and inaugurated January, 1906. Since that time he has been re-elected as Lieut. Governor, serving in that capacity for three years. Last fall he was nominated for governor of the com¬ monwealth by acclamation, and was elected November 3 by a large majority over his opponent, Hon. James H. Vahey. Up to 1905 he had never held a political office. He had served his party as a member of the Milford and Hopedale Republican town committees. He was also chairman of his senatorial district committee, and a member of the con¬ gressional district committee. He was also chairman of the Republican State committee in 1892, but declined a unanimous re-election in 1893, although he served as a member of the committee the three following years. He served as president of the Republican club of Massachusetts for two years, and has been a member of the club since its organization. In 1896 he went as a delegate from Massachusetts to the Republican National convention at St. Louis, and was made chairman of the Massachusetts delegation. He canvassed all the delegates to that convention on the question of making the platform for “gold,” and he secured, through fifty sub-committees working under his direction, a report showing the standing of every delegation in the convention on that measure. In 1900 he was Republican elector for the 11th Congressional District of Massachusetts and was chairman of the Massachusetts delegation to the Nashville Exposition in 1897. Mr. Draper is interested in numerous cotton manufacturing and other indus¬ tries throughout the country. He is a member of the Society of Colonial Wars, Union club, Exchange club, Country club, etc. Previous to his nomination for governor he was a director in the Boston Albany R. R., the New England Cotton Yarn Co., National Shawmut Bank and Old Colony Trust Co. He married, November 21, 1883, Nannie Bristow, daughter of the late Gen. Benjamin Helm Bristow of New York, who was Secretary of the ' Treasury under Grant, and candidate for the presidency in 1876. They have three children, Ben-

Page 10 text:

8 OAK, LILY AND IVY. War. The tide of war had moved southward during the last two days, leaving in its wake a varied scene of ruin and desolation. Everywhere grim evidences of its passage lay stamped upon the country. It had entered a land where the beauty of God and Nature held untrammeled sway; it had left it, a few weeks later, a wreck, a mockery of its former glory. It was July, a time when, under ordinary circumstances, the valley would be reaching its greatest height of summer beauty, its nearest approach to perfection. Even now, some vestige of its former loveliness remained—the little river, a sil¬ ver ribbon, still glistened and sparkled as it ran onward, and the green of tree and grass blended in perfect harmony; war could not take these away. Otherwise, destruction could be seen everywhere. The grain, which should be raising glossy stalks high in air, was leveled to the ground; the stately mansions with their many-columned balconies had disappeared, leaving only a few blackened rafters and beams to mark the place where they had been. No longer could one hear the pleasant song of the field hands at their labor; they had long since fled with their masters. All was silent save for the call of some cricket, undismayed by the heat, and a deep, low murmur, like the rumble of distant thunder, coming up from the south. It was the voice of war, never far away, always threatening to return. On a knoll overlooking the valley stood the hospital. There the air was hot, and stifling, and there was no welcome breeze to lessen the heat. The flag, hanging in limp, motionless folds from the pole, rarely moved; even the sentry, pacing his beat, walked more slowly than was his wont. Inside the tent, though, there was no lack of activity; nurses moved to and fro, attending their patients, and the corps of surgeons were striving constantly to save what life the fate of war had left. In a cot, near the entrance, lay a soldier who had been brought in the day before, with a shattered thigh. Because of his condition no attempts had been made to question him and his name was still unknown. During the day, how¬ ever, he had so far recovered consciousness as to be able to notice what was hap¬ pening around him. The muttering and moaning of the other patients disturbed him; the air was breathless, and the odor of ether in the next tent made him feel strangely weak. The pain of his wound was growing greater, too, now that he had awakened, and he began to feel it throb and burn. He tried to think of the events of the previous day in the hope that he would forget the present, but it was useless. The torture continued, and with it now came a sense bf insensibility. The sounds about him grew fainter and fainter, as the pain became more acute. Finally all faded away; he was alone, groping in the dark coldness of night. After a long while there was a glimmer of light ahead; he struggled towards it, and at last burst forth from the shadow into the splendor of day and youth—his youth, which he was living once more. He was wandering in the fields, at home again, a happy, care-free, careless child. There were whispering trees about him and fieecy, white clouds that drifted lazily in the sky above. Across the meadows, far off, he heard the tink¬ ling of bells as some herd wandered through the grass. Joy—the joy of spring and of youth—was about him everywhere. Years passed away. He was older now, more dignified and grave, but the love of Nature was still within him. He wandered through the deep woods, where the sun shone only as shimmering flecks of yellow light upon the topmost leaves; he stood on the hill, looking down on the great world stretching out before