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

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OAK, LILY AND IVY VOL. XXVIII. MILFORD, MASS., JANUARY, 1912. NO. 4. Published Monthly During the School Year by the Pupils of the Milford High School. BOARD OF EDITORS. Edito rs-in-Chief, Linus Jones, T2, Sara Haskard, T2. Business Manager, Clifton Webber, T2. Assistants. Margaret Williams, T2. Ralph Luce, T3. John Keane, T2. Luigi Sanclementi, ’13. Julia McCarthy, T3. Subscription Rates: For the year, 50 cents. Single Copies, 10 cents. Add i •ess all communications to Oak, Lily and Ivy, Milford, Mass. Entered at the Milford, Mass., Post Office, as second class matter. The Hero of the Fort. The gaunt trees of the forest loomed black and dark in the background of the encampment. The great oak boughs creaked back and forth with a musical rhythm, now and then heaving a sigh of unrest. Occasionally the distant note of a whip-poor-will, blended in the silence of the night. At the fort, all was peace and harmony- The blood-curdling scenes of war, for the time-being, gave place to dancing and mirth. Lights dazzled the eyes of all within. The regiment drank to the health of the commander, and a toast was offered to the bravest warrior. The echoes of merry shouts resounded on every side and since a storm was gathering fast without, the weary soldiers were encouraged to be off their guard. The stars and moon were soon hidden entirely from view, lightning flashed across the sky, roaring thunder echoed through the valley and died away into silence. Soon the lights of the encampment grew dim, the soldiers sank to rest and stillness prevailed. Far up on the cold mountain-side crept a boy, shivering more from ex¬ citement than from cold. His feet were torn and bleeding and his clothes were in rags. Each succeeding peal of thunder seemed to strike his death knell and freeze the blood in his veins. Down below him, rolled the restless waters of the river where the enemy even now were near to the landing. On the other side of the mountain, he knew was the encamped army of his country, his father and his friends, sleeping all unconscious of their danger. He gazed frantically from side to side, almost too alarmed to move. Should he go back or go forward! He thought of his mother, then of his father. Both seemed to be calling him and he was undecided what to do. He hesitated but a moment and then plunged forward with renewed energy. “The cause of our country at any cost!” had been his father’s parting words as he bade the family adieu and went to join the army. Encouraged by brave hope and grim determination, the way did not seem so hard as he hastened on in the blackness of dense shadow. It was almost midnight. Those soldiers who remained awake, listened in peaceful security to the monotonous patter of the rtun on the roof, and watched the lightning as it lit up the landscape for a moment and then left it in darkness again.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS. ❖ A ❖ A ❖ ❖ A V !» ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ f ❖ A V The Hero of the Fort. Ruth Haskard, ’13. The Elusive Smith. G. E. K. ’13. , The E ternal Problem. A Freshman. Ghost of 13. George Caldicott, ’14. Flow Bobbie Found Santa Claus. FI. M. E. ’13. Editorials. ....... School Notes. . .... Athletics. ....... Alumni. ....... The Humor of It. 5 6 8 9 10 11 r 3 15 16 r 7 V ❖ A ❖ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ❖ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦!« ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ► ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ «j« g» »j» ♦ «g» 4 » «

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6 OAK, LILY AND IVY. A window of the fort burst suddenly open and with a wild shout, “To arms, to arms, for your lives” a small boy sprang into the presence of a regi¬ ment of terrified soldiers and was immediately lost in the confusion of men, rushing in different directions, shouting and exclaiming in their eager haste to find their arms. In another moment, the enemy was upon them and for hours the battle raged with unspeakable fury. One moment it seemed that the regiment of the encamp¬ ment would conquer and the next that it would be defeated- At last the thunder ceased, the dark clouds rolled back and the first rays of the rising sun looked upon a field of blood where many noble warriors lay dead. But it also looked upon the encampment, standing as before with the country’s flag flapping proudly in the soft morning breeze. The soldiers within were rejoicing over the victory. Joy seemed to fill every nook and corner of the great encampment. Exclamations of triumph resounded from wall to wall as each soldier congratulated his friends for having won the battle. Then the doors were thrown wide open and the regiment marched out upon the green chatting gayly together. Suddenly a shout pierced the air and rang across the valley, echoing and re-echoing along the mountain sides, “Three cheers for the Hero of the Fort!” and as the boy was clasped in his father’s arms, joy ineffable sang in his heart. Ruth Haskard, T3. -4 The Elusive Smith. Helen sat at her desk in a large bay-window, in the library studying Latin grammar and trying to cram into her brain, “amo, amas, amat,” when looking down the street, she caught a glimpse of her chum, May Bradford, whom she had not seen for two weeks, coming up on the run. “Good-bye, studying,” Helen said, sorrowfully throwing down her book. “I want to go to that concert tonight, and when shall I study for that exam!” But studying, exam, and everything was forgotten, when in a couple of minutes May came running in the back door, burst into the library, twisted her around four or five times and finally said: “You haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you, you little midget! Oh, yes, I expected to see you plugging at your studying; it seems to me if you’d stand up and walk around once in a while you’d grow a mite.” “For goodness’ sake,” exclaimed Helen, “what is the matter with you? Have you gone mad during the last two weeks, May? Where have you been? Hurry up and tell and please stop jumping around so.” “Now, wait till I take off my duds, although you didn’t ask me to, and oh, yes, I’ll run out and give a message to your mother. You sit down there and count your fingers and I’ll be back in a jiff and tell you all about it,’’ exclaimed May. In the course of a minute, May came running back through the hall yelling, “Talk about Peter Coodles’ trip to New York! That was a jumble compared to my trip last week.” “Is that where you were? You know you haven’t been up for two weeks, and I wondered where you had been. Did you have a good time? Do tell me all about it,” said Helen. “Well.” continued May, as she settled down on the sofa, and tucked about ten sofa-pillows around her, “you know we have friends in New York, John Smith