Rowland Hall Saint Mark's - Hallmark / Lantern Yearbook (Salt Lake City, UT)

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To Jean Nicol, Betty Harkness condescends to leave her extra three inches that the “little one” may have a bigger outlook on life. To Marion Hardy, Louise Cline bequeaths her “slerno” and “bees wax” in order that the business of making batik scarfs, at present so flourishing, may continue to be most profitable. To Margaret Nibley, Aldora Tobin leaves her “specs” that the former’s Heinie may appear as fair as the latter’s. To Elinor Fryer, Peggy Wall leaves her charge account at the drug store, in hopes that the entire school may enjoy themselves as much as at present. To Dixie Doolittle, Dorothy Hamilton leaves her astonishing ability to “eat and grow thin.” To Hanna Ruth Cohen, Hildegarde Thompson leaves her ability to carry a tune. May she bear her burden well. To Betty Daly, Marian Story affectionately leaves her scars, abrasions, and broken ribs received through the kind aid of the former in the basket ball games. In Witness thereof, we and each of us, has hereunto washed our hands of this matter at Salt Lake City, Utah, on this the 11th day of June, 1924. LOUISE CLINE, CLARISSE ELLIS, DOROTHY HAMILTON, BETTY HARKNESS, HELEN LEACHER. MARIAN STORY, HILDEGARDE THOMPSON, ALDORA TOBIN, ENID WALL, DOROTHY WELCH. Drawn up by M. B. Story, Esq. Page 1 ti rnty-one

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iLasit l iU anti Testament HK time has come when we, the class of 1924, being of our naturally insane state of mind, are forced to make an unceremonious exit through the pearly gates of Rowland Hall by order of the Faculty. As we go forth into the strife of this wide world, we deem it wise to equip ourselves with an en- tirely new set of weapons and so we donate our old ones to those who are struggling in our noble footsteps. Therefore, we, the undersigned, do hereby solemnly swear this to be our last Will and Testament, at the same time declaring all wills previously made by us null and void and subject to no further reference. To the Faculty we leave our hard-won basket ball championship, in hopes that in fighting to retain it next year, their fame as “basketeers” may spread throughout this mighty land. To the Freshman class, we do give and bequeath our brightly shining shoes that their future understanding may be materially improved. To the Sophomore class we leave with sisterly affection that glorious feeling that “they satisfy” — themselves. May you, when graduating, succeed in convincing your teachers as we are sure we have, that “All’s well that ends well.” To the Junior class we bequeath the left-overs, including the Faculty’s love and the college exams. To Margaret Moran we leave the first pick of all our jewels including our diamonds, sapphires, and Latin compositions. Clarisse Ellis hereby entrusts Miss Stevenson to the care of her “co-crushee,” Frances Nixon. To Henrietta Goeltz, Peggy and Marian leave the undisputed right to all zitz’s who in the future take the air around Rowland Hall. May she keep the memory of her other “two-thirds” fresh by continually shouting their password from the house- tops. To Dorothy Hyslop, Dorothy Welch not only leaves the continued use of her name, but also her “line.” A joker is a good thing to have in any pack of cards or kids. To Joyce Townsend, Helen Leacher leaves her stability. She has never been known to “fall” yet. To Mary Jane Garnett the Senior class donate a new set of tires for the school taxi in order that this faithful veh icle may not yet have to R. I. P. Page Twenty

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|3eep into tl)E Jfuture MKN [ was asked lo write a prophecy for the Senior Class of 1921, I llioupht for a long time. Finding, at length, that iny imagination was very un[)ro ductive, I decided not to tax my brain any longer, but to consult some one who really knew. I made a visit, therefore, to a clairvoyant. She was exceedingly sympathetic and allowed me to look through her crystal ball, so that 1 might be assured of the verity of the prediction. Eagerly I grasped the cool smooth ball, twirled it three times as I was bidden, then gazed into its transparent surface, and the future is at once before me. This mav sound egotistic, but 1 must tell the truth. First, I see myself locking the door of a small shop on the window of which is the sign, “Select and Imported Models, Mademoiselle Clarisse Ellis, Proprietrix. ” Oh, cruel world, thus my fate is settled and 1 had hoped to be at least President of the United States. I walk along a street, evidently in Salt Lake, but what a changed Salt Lake. Where had all the skyscrapers come from? Presently 1 turn up a path leading to an extremely attrac- tive house. Aldora meets me at the door, Heinie, of course, must be somewhere within; but no, it is a boarding house for Old Maids! We are having tea, when in walks Dorothy Welch, bringing all of her five children, and “mother” written all over her. A blur comes over the surface of the ball and when it clears ihe scene has changed. A ranch lies stretched before my eyes, the sky is gray streaked with light, it is sunrise. Who is that figure feeding corn to the chickens? Is it? — no, it cannot be — but, yes, it is, Marian Story. Bang, bing. What a noise. An aeroplane is cross- ing the Rocky mountains. Peggy is at the wheel. She has joined the United States Air Mail Service. Another noise distinctly unpleasant is here. It is the sound of a dentist’s buzzer, and Louise Cline is the dentist. She is filling a tooth for Helen Leather, who had pulled out a filling while eating a caramel made at the candy fac- tory of her husband. I’m sure you will all rejoice with me on hearing that the dream of at least one of our members has been realized. Again the surface blurs, then clears, disclosing Hildegarde garbed in a nurse’s dress and assisting a handsome man to walk. The well-known dreamy look is in her eyes, and I can tell by it that she has fallen in love with one of her |)atients, and is going to give up her career to marry him. And now I see Belly Harkness, her height accentuated by the small children around her with whom she is playing leap frog. She has taken up settlement work and has her proteges at the park for the day. As 1 am giggling at Betty’s antics Dorothy Hamilton comes slowly walking toward me. She has a book of Browning’s poems in her hand and it is evident that she is preparing her next speech for the Browning Club of which she hopes soon to become president. Good gracious, is this the way we are all going to turn out? The disclosures stun me and the crystal ball falls from my hand. Can these things, so contrary to our natures, come to pass? If they should, all the training which we have so care- fully undergone will be of no avail. Far be it from me, however, to dispute what the fates decree; time alone will tell. Twenty-two