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

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THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 25 Five minutes later the occupants of the house were aroused by piercing shrieks, the shrieks of doomed, or badly frightened men. When the police arrived they found three lifeless forms in the squalid room. Henry Van Buren, the eccentric naturalist, dead of a broken skull and his slayers lying one on the floor and the other across the rifled trunk which had held the lacquer box. Three venomous adders, Van Buren’s latest specimens, had slithered across the floor to the shelter of the bed to escape the feet of the curious who came to the scene. Francis McNary, ’24. HASTE. Sonnet. At break of day he rushes forth to fight. He wakes his men with hasty trumpet blast, And scorns to praise the rising sun. The height In distant mists is crowned with a fast And noble fortress. This he makes his aim. His warriors storm the gates. The wall is lost Before his quick assault. But then his fame Is shattered by the rising foe. The cost Is dear. His men fall back. He urges: all With no avail. They drop fatigued. Too late He pauses with regret that caution’s call He did not heed. You marvel at his fate! Then list to wisdom, lest you meet the worst: “To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.” Marion Littlefield, ’24. EVENING. Sonnet. The sun is slowly sinking o’er the hills, And evening casts its shadows soft and clear; The moon slips from its amber clouds of frills, As one by one the silent stars appear. The birds with sleepy twitters go to rest, The flowers nod their dewy heads in sleep, As mother nature in soft coolness dressed With gentle tender smile begins to peep Into the dreaming bud and quiet nest. And then the night bird soars to meet the blue, With fluted note of ecstasy, his best, While guarding all is silver light and dew As evening’s curtain swaying in the breeze Becomes a mist in night’s sweet peaceful ease. Evelyn Wiggin, ’24.

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24 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. form. The Great One bent over and petted the dog, murmuring, “Good, old Shrimp, I’ve found myself at last. I’ve come out from my grave of books to stay. Did you see his nose? Good old boy.” The dog with the great bone which he had retrieved at the last moment from the scrap box arched his back for those fine caresses. Here was a master! They arrived at the house. He rang the bell. The mistress answered the door. “Why, Henry, what has happened? And William Marston with a bone.” Such a look of horror! The Great One spoke, “Here is your dog and I’ve come back to get .‘yes’ for an answer. I’ll not go without it.” “Why,”—it was over. That night on the divan the place of honor was held by “Shrimp” with two friends at his side in a world of their own. John Greenough, ’24. THE LACQUER BOX. The old man wended his solitary way along the narrow street and up the stairs leading to the squalid boarding house, unaware of the close scrutiny of two pairs of shifty eyes. The owners of these eyes stepped from the doorway opposite and one remarked, “Well, there he is.” “Yuh,” was the reply. “Will we try to-night?” “Yuh,” repeated his friend, “C’mon. I gotta see ‘Soapy’,” and the two de¬ parted down a darksome alley. The old man in the dingy hall fumbled with the key to his ill-kept rooms. He entered and locked the door, then crossed the room to an old-fashioned trunk in a corner. He opened it, and drew from it a lacquer box. He took something from his pocket which he dropped into the receptacle. He stood thus, apparently gloating over the contents of the box. Then he shut it and replaced it in the trunk and locked that. In this district where ordinarily no embarrassing questions are asked, the old man had been the proverbial thorn in the side of the public’s curiosity. He had no friends, no employment, yet he seemed able to eat regularly and his land¬ lady could testify that his room was paid for in advance. The denizens of this district, all of them intimates, if not friends of the police, had come to the con¬ clusion that the old man was a miser, and two of his neighbors were convinced that the lacquer box held his savings. Through the key-hole they had watched the old man playing with the con¬ tents of the box, always, however, with his back to them. Their avarice, con¬ trolled as long as possible, could no longer be resisted. They were determined to have this box with or without the old man’s consent. This was the night decided upon to try and obtain the box, and they had gone to get certain tools of their trade. The old man ate a frugal meal, went to bed and put out the light. Two hours later there was a faint shuffle in the hall. A creak, the door rattled for a second, then swung slowly inward. “Take it easy,” was heard in a sibilant whisper. There was a startled cry from the old man, which was broken by a dull thud. The sound of labored breathing and muttered curses were then the only sounds in the room as the men worked on the trunk. At last it was open and the box in their hands.

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26 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. DIFFICULTIES ARE THINGS THAT SHOW WHAT MEN ARE. Never was truth better exemplified than in the old adage of Epictetus that “Difficulties are things that show what men are.’’ We often make the error in believing that difficulties are things to be avoided, that they are unfortunate oc¬ currences and obstacles placed in our path to our detriment. How rarely we realize that they are really stepping stones to our success. Greatness could never be attained, if difficulties were not met and overcome. In sport, in business, in politics, in fact even in the commonest walks of life, it is the overcoming of diffi¬ culties that leads to success or happiness. A man who is afraid to face difficul¬ ties will live and die a nonenity and will soon be forgotten. We should have no sports such as baseball or football, were it not that diffi¬ culties were placed before us by the opposing players. It would not be greatly amiss if the dictionaries gave the definition of sport as the overcoming of diffi¬ culties. It is the almost unsurmountable difficulties placed in their way that causes men to travel to the very ends of the earth, to attempt the hazardous feat of climbing the towering slopes of Matterhorn or Mount Everett. The charm lies in the fact that the peaks are almost unattainable. Never was a man surrounded by more difficulties than our martyred presi¬ dent, Abraham Lincoln. Although hindered by poverty, lack of learning, and being reared far away from the cities where he may have been noticed more quickly, he learned in life that difficulties were merely stepping-stones that would lead him on to unbelievable success. And his name will go down to posterity as our greatest president, and one of the world’s most illustrious men. Honors of all kinds would be barren indeed, if they could be attained with¬ out difficulties. They could not be fully appreciated, if they came to us without effort or exertion. Without difficulties the world would be at a standstill and we should still be living the life of three thousand years ago, as there would be no invention. The whole life of the great wizard of electricity, Edison, is simply a history of a man who could surmount and conquer greater difficulties than other men. Education is to be achieved only by continually meeting mental difficulties. Study is the stepping-stone by which we finally reach our ambition and are able to take our place with the rest of our classmates on graduation day, feeling glad and happy that we have overthrown the difficulties placed in our way, fully ap¬ preciating the fact that we have accomplished our ambition and determination not to allow difficulties to deter us from our attainment and achievement. What credit, what glory would there be in graduation were it merely a matter of form? With everything made easy with no difficulties, what pleasure or pride would there be? Without difficulties ambition would be useless, as we should all have an equal chance to attain any object to which we aspired. Ambition may be defined as a grim determination to meet all obstacles or difficulties and overcome them. Let us ever remember that now we are on the threshold of real life, our difficulties so far from being over are just beginning. As we step forth from school into the more serious walks of life, let us remember that the training we have received here has qualified us to meet those difficulties and conquer them. It depends upon us alone how we accomplish this task, and what we make of ourselves, for truly our whole future hinges on the use of our difficulties. We shall be just what our difficulties make us, for “Difficulties are things that show what men are.” Alice Bottomley, ’24.