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

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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.

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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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THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 27 THE LAST OF THE VIGILANTES. “There is so much bad in the best of us, And so much good in the worst of us, That it really behooves the most of us To speak very well of the rest of us.” The ladies met in Samanthy Allen’s sitting room, an upholstered affair with many knick-knacks and sea-shells, for their weekly meeting. This gathering was organized for the sole purpose of keeping peace and decorum in the community; in truth, it was sort of a vigilant committee, which inwardly was feared by the town in general. No one knew who was to be attacked next. If you had a “past” or a “secret,” it would be ferreted out by this gracious committee and you were ostracized from human society. These gentle ladies met weekly. This was an important meeting. Indeed, as they politely sat down, and po¬ litely every one avoi ded the horsehair sofa, there was an air of suppressed excite¬ ment, for to-day, to-day they had something to talk about and how they liked to talk! Samanthy, tall and spare, with a long nose and talkative chin, cleared her throat. Every one sat up expectantly. “We are gathered here to-day, as is our custom, to safeguard the morals of the community, and particularly to discuss the arrival of a parasite into our midst, one-” With this she stopped, at the request of one Mrs. Hoy, who was deaf and asked her to repeat. “WE ARE GATHERED”—she repeated loudly. Mrs. Hoy sat back in her chair, thanked her and calmly rocked to and fro. She knew this ritual by heart—why extend the suspense? Samanthy smiled frigidly, and once more- “-to discuss one ‘Madame Xenia,’ who has voiced intent to open a beauty parlor.” Impressive silence—breath-taking. “We will take measures at once,” said Samanthy crisply, “As we have suffi¬ cient material to act upon in form of records, etc.” She proceeded to narrate several minor incidents which invariably occur in the normal life of every woman in the universe. She continued: “She has been a manicurist”—a knowing wink passed over the top of the report. “Later a hairdresser” Silence. “Married.” A pause. “Separated.” Gasps, many of them. “Correct age, twenty-three.” With finality. “And this, my dear helpmates, concludes my report and brings us to that period when we shall interfere in the course of this intended ruination of the un¬ impeachable moral standing of the town.” Samanthy stopped and received the looked-for approval. The next meeting of the dear ladies would certainly be the deathblow to Madame Xenia. Thus they departed for their own hearths. Sunday the vigilant committee, true to form, occupied the foremost rows in the church.