Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

Page 9 text:

JUNIOR “Senior Class History.” By Emma Pittman. Momence, Illinois. Dear Friend: In reply to your letter, relative to your entering the high school, I think the best way to inform you about this mat¬ ter is to refer you to the Senior Class of ’06. It is one of the most brilliant classes ever known in our high school. Its career has been excellent from start to finish. The members have at last reached the goal for which they have striven and are looked upon with awe by the other classes. The other classes have only to look upon our pleasant and smiling countenances to be inspired to hope for success. What wonder! All of us are descendants of noble an¬ cestors. For example, “Pat, the Irishman’s” ancestors are known to be the leading orators of Fourth-of-July celebrations in Ireland. Frank probably inherits his talent in this line from them. Next, “Olia, the Swede,” who claims relationship to Queen Christina,—but then, we have to take His word for that. Never-the-less in Will are shown all the characteristics of his race. We had a great time in tracing back the ancestors of our little Danish girl, Serina. Being so modest and shy, she would not tell us much about it, so we were compelled to go to other sources. It seems queer that she doesn’t inherit her ancestors’ quarrelsome spirit, but she is the BOOK. exception to the rule. Nina says that she is Scotch. It is possible that she is a descendant of the great poet, Robert Burns. We haven’t succeeded in finding out the nationality of the last two girls, Emma and Irene. One savs she is a descendant of “The Man in the Moon.” Probably that is why she so often goes moon gazing. The other claims that Hercules is her most famous ancestor. Thus, you see, it is not to be wondered at that such greatness is displayed by this class. W hen the class of ’06 entered High School it numbered twenty-one. Gradually members quit school or moved away until now only the faithful six remain; but then, you know, it is quality, not quantity, that counts. Their colors were chosen in the eighth grade and were well chosen,—purple, denoting Fidelity, and white, de¬ noting Purity. If you wish to obtain any further information about this brilliant class, whose members have such a future before them, or, if you wish me to go into detail about the High school, Please advise Miss Blank.

Page 8 text:

JUNIOR YEAR BOOK. Parody—“ The Physics Class.” (With Profuse Apologies to James Russell Lowell.) First Prize Parody by Hazel Broad. They began Physics in September, And busily all the year Have been filling their respective craniums With knowledge deep but dear. Every lad and every maiden, The poundal and erg can define ; And the poorest one in their class roll Thinks mechanics and machines just fine. From the far recesses of the Lab’tory Comes Harry’s muffled crow, For his ’speriment has turned out right And that suits him you know. I stood and w T atched from the doorway, The noiseless (?) work of the class; And the sudden flurries of Lottie If the wheel and axle went too fast. I thought of that spot in the corner Where the inclined plane still stood, How Myrtle and Hazel adjusted it gently So as not to spill out the load. Then up spoke William the Second, Saying, “0, shoot, this pulley won’t work; But William the First repaired it With a little pat and jerk. And then I looked toward Frankie Timing a pendulum’s beat, While Frank C. sat by neatly making A drawing in details complete. The merits of a hydraulic press To Carrie and Nina were shown By Irene and Nellie whose skill In rigging machines is well known. Then with eyes that looked toward the future, I asked as others have done, il What will the Laboratory look like When that bright class is gone ? ” “ Sunshine After Storm.” First Prize Poem by Hazel Broad. The clouds hang grey in the lowering sky, The cold March winds rush whistling by, And branches snap in the sighing wood, Roughly caressed by the tempest rude. The waves beat wildly upon the shore, In stifled rage the breakers roar, The cruel reefs are crowned in foam, In their dark caves the surges moan. But just as night like a sombre pall In mist-like darkness is wrapping all, The sun bursts forth in a flood of light, Stilling the tempest; then falls the night. 0, souls ’mid the tempest and sorrow of life, Who are tired of the conflict, tired of the strife, It comes like sweet sunshine at the end of the day “ God knoweth best, He will show thee thy way.’

Page 10 text:

JUNIOR History of the Junior Cla.»». By Clennie Little, It is useless to tell of the brilliancy and success of our Junior class of 1906, the envy of all the other classes. Ever since our entry into High School we have been noted as a studious and successful class in all our under¬ takings. Many changes have taken place in our class; but we still remain at the top of the ladder; and, from this height, we look upon the other classes, who are striv¬ ing to attain to our greatness. In our Freshmen year we were modest and unassuming and chose pink and green as our colors; but since we have become Juniors, and the Freshmen seemed to think our colors belonged to them, we have changed them to maroon and blue. Our chief trait is “perseverance;” for if we don’t get what we try for the first time, we work until we do. In the Junior class are found the greatest stars in the school. Can any other class boast of such a songstress as Lottie Hess, whose voice rivals a bird’s in its sweetness? or such a musician as Jennie Pittman, who thrills the whole school with her beautiful music? And as for our cartoonist, Harry Hoag, even the teachers have not escaped representation in his cartoons. Whenever a ripple of laughter is heard throughout the school, the teachers at once attribute it to our comedian, Rex Vane. Our greatest sorrow is Frank Dufrain, who seems to be in BOOK. a despondent mood lately, and persists in drawing tomb¬ stones on the board, thus casting a dark shadow over the whole class. I have given only a fair sample of our brilliant class. If time and space permitted, I might fill pages with descrip¬ tions of our geniuses. Next year we shall be Seniors, and if you will just keep track of us, we shall show you what a Senior class ought to do. Sunday School Teacher—“ Who led the peop T e out of the land of Egypt ? ” (No one answers.) Sunday School Superintendent—“ What, don’t any one know ? That little boy in the corner tell me.” Little Boy (badly scared)—“ I dunno, ’twasn’t me, cause I just moved here last week from Missoury.” The hen scratched on the garden plot, Whence all but she had fled, For she was looking for the nests On which the onion—sets.