Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

Page 10 text:

THE PORCUPINE May we have the highest motives, Seeking ever to obtain All the noblest, grandest virtues That alone make life a gain. May we shun to stoop to evil, May we spurn each impure thought May our lives be sweet wit Doing that which God Then, dear class-mates, when our life-boats At the haven have arrived, Gently bearing blooming beauty Or the aged o’er the tide, May the world be better, fairer, Filled with greater truth and light, Since we've lived and placed our standard At the doing of the right.

Page 9 text:

°Tis with much regret and sadness, D THE PORCUPINE That we bid this place adieu, But our thoughts shall linger kindly, Dearest teachers, e’er 0 nyou. We'll remember what you’ve taught us, And shall strive to make our lives, Honest, pure and full of purpose, Full of noblest sacrifice. Dearest class-mates, we may never Meet together just as now, For the fields may all be different That each one of us must plough. But wherever Life may call us, May these earnest, blissful hours, Ever strengthen and revive us, Deck our paths with sweetest flowers. Oh, we need these happy moments! Yes, we need some joy and cheer, In this life so real and earnest, When the storm-clouds make us fear. May our fondest memries cluster Round this almost sacred hall, So that love will cheer and brighten, Even though the tempest fall. Dearest class-mates may we enter Our respective fields of life, Glad to plough, and sow, and labor, Glad to work, in calm or strife; Gath’ring each successive harvest, Though it be in smiles or tears, With the strength of noble purpose, Growing stronger through the years.

Page 11 text:

THE PORCUPINE 3 Class Prophecy MARGARET RUED It was nearly six o’clock, Wednesday, when I remembered that my much-enduring old desk still contained some half- dozen soiled handkerchiefs, my mittens, a book-strap, at least four apple cores and last month’s copy of “Life,” all of which I was determined to remove, even at the cost of missing the six o’clock train for the ranch. So I ran back and explained the situation to Mr. Jones, who kindly let me have the keys to the school house. The hall was dark. I closed the door behind me, found my way to my seat, and slid leisurely into it, indulging at the same time in appro- priate sentimental reflections that ran about like the burden of that old song: “New ties perhaps may bind us To brighter scenes than this, But something left behind us Our hearts will always miss’— And I felt that I would miss nothing more than my old désk. Running my hand over its battered surface I was glad to find that cleverly carved reproduction of Happy Hooligan upon it. Resorting to poetry again I felt that—