St Matthews High School - Samascript Yearbook (Conshohocken, PA)

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Fayette Street Fayette Street, our main thoroughfare, extends through the town in a straight line for almost a mile, from the Matson-ford Bridge to Twelfth Avenue where it merges into Butler Pike. Years ago, it was an Indian trail winding through the dense forest. During the Revolutionary War, Lafayette led the patriots over this road when they were fleeing to Valley Forge in 1777. It is from this famous French general that Fayette Street gets its name. In the early days of the borough, it was a stony, dusty road, scarred “with deep ruts caused by the heavy “string' teams hauling iron ore, clay, and limestone to the blast furnaces. Gas lamps in iron posts, placed at road intersections, furnished street illumination. The police lighted these lamps at night and turned them off in the morning. Today, Fayette Street is a broad avenue lined with great maple, poplar, and horse chestnut trees. The business section is confined to a few squares at the lower end of the town, near the river. In the residential district beautiful, stately houses surrounded by spacious, well-kept grounds line both sides of the avenue. Four large stone churches add dignity to Fayette Street. Our church, St. Matthew’s, at Third Avenue and Fayette Street, is a granite structure in Gothic architecture. From afar, its lofty bell-tower and spires can be seen outlined against the sky. Beside the church are the rectory and school, both granite buildings that harmonize with the church. Fayette Street, however, is not so beautiful as it was a few years ago. Commercialism has made inroads on the ancient highway, and the ubiquitous filling stations and chain stores appearing among the gracious old homes produce a discordant note in the once lovely harmony of old avenue. Annette M. Aigner '42 Plymouth Meeting House ONE of the oldest structures in the vicinity is the Quaker Meeting House which stands at the intersection of Germantown Avenue and Butler Pike in Plymouth Meeting. It is a rather long, narrow, one-story building of gray limestone, and sits back from the road in a plot of ground fenced in by a low stone wall. The old prayer house is a splendid example of Colonial architecture, and Quaker simplicity. The building has undergone certain alterations necessitated by changing conditions and by a fire in 1867, but the original walls of limestone still stand. Beauti- THE MIRROR T wenty-nine

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After School TO ME as a child the happiest part of a schoolday was the walk home after the lessons were completed. I can see myself yet, a solitary little fellow, trudging along the quiet road in the late fall. The contents of my dinner pail jingled to the tune I whistled as I picked great bouquets of gay-colored leaves, sumac, and goldenrod. In the open country, I loitered among dun-colored cornfields, where yellow pumpkin-like eyes peeped out at me from the brown stubble. But how different it was in the winter! Then, the sharp touch of frost quickened my lagging feet, and, all bundled up in my leggings, I went stumbling through the drifts. If the day were bright, flocks of bobwhites fled excitedly from tree to tree or whistled musical notes as they picked at the frozen pine cones. Tracks of rabbits crossed and re-crossed along the roadway. Often I caught a ride with some fur-coated farmer on his way home from town, and, from his bob-sled, I looked wonderingly at the winter change of landscape. As we jingled past the cornfield, horses and cattle threw up their heads to listen and then went crashing away through the stalks. The evergreen grove was no longer dark, silent, and lonesome. Purple finches and starlings hid beneath the branches for protection against the winter’s storm. Soon, with a very cold face and a healthy appetite for supper, I would tumble off before our gate and go stamping up the path to the house. Now that I have left the “wilds and moved to the more densely populated city, much of the pleasure of going to school has departed. HISTORY, legend, and mythology are filled with stories of famous steeds, for the horse is one of the animals most beloved by man. In my childhood I read, with wonder, many tales of renowned horses. Pegasus, the winged horse of mythology, which carried Bellerophon to victory over the Chimaera is perhaps the most fabulous of all. Alexander’s horse, Bucephalus, shares his master’s glory in the pages of history, and the Trojan horse remains forever an example of war strategy and duplicity. All America loves the anonymous galloper that carried Paul Revere on his historic ride to Concord, and Ichabod Crane's old nag, Gunpowder, has a place in the affections of all lovers of Irving’s “Sleepy Hollow.” In the sporting world, Man O’ War was, for years, one of the most renowned racers. His noble head, with its white star on the forehead, has adorned many a stick pin and pair of cuff links. War Admiral, Sea Biscuit, and Cavalcade, too, have been celebrated winners in their day and have had hosts of admirers. But of all the steeds that have won renown, none is better known or more beloved than the schoolboy's pony.” It is one of the smallest of the species and, perhaps, the most widely distributed. It can travel anywhere with its owner and requires no attention; it may be stabled in a boy's pocket, carried in a brief case, or hidden under the mattress. It is at the beck and call of the rich and poor alike and gives democratic, impartial service to all, though it is the familiar of such noteworthy individuals as Virgil, Ceaser, and Homer. The man who first wrote a “pony is the undying hero of the classroom, for this charger has galloped hundreds of riders to success. Though teachers through the ages have denounced the little courser as a trickster— a low-down fellow with whom no honorable student would associate, the “pony” retains undiminished popularity. Youth’s cry is “A boy’s best friend is his pony. I firmly believe that in spite of all their denials, many teachers have ridden to success on a pony's back, and keep one conveniently stabled in a secret drawer in their desks. Mary Ryan, '42 Famous Mary O’Connor, '42 THE MIRROR T wentycight

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ful woodwork, mellowed by age, and wooden benches used by generations of worshippers add distinction to the interior. Its history dates back to the time of William Penn. In 1686 James Fox, who came from Plymouth, Devonshire, Eng' land, on the ship Desire, purchased 5327 acres of land from Penn, and named the settlement Plymouth, after the example of the Pilgrims. The settlement was of sufficient importance by 1691 to attract the notice of Penn who wrote from London, “commend me to my friends at Plymouth.” The first meeting of the Plymouth Friends was held at the home of Fox. Although there are no historical records to show the exact date of the building of the chapel, it must have been erected in the early part of the 18th century. The Radnor and Haverford records of the ninth month 1701 bear testimony to its existence. The first deed to the Meeting House property was given on October 6, 1700. During the Revolutionary period, when Washington's army, under Lafayette, was retreating from Germantown to Valley Forge, the meeting house was used as a camp and hospital for the soldiers. There is still preserved a letter from an officer in the American army, headed “Camp at Plymouth Meeting, the thirteenth day, the twelfth month, 1777.” It begins, “I have these two nights past taken up my quarters in the ‘House of Contemplation.’ ” About 1780, one end of the Meeting House was used for school facilities. Tradition says that David Rittenhouse, the great astronomer, attended this school. Friends were always opposed to human slavery and headquarters for the Abolition agitators was at Plymouth Meeting. A well-known station of the underground railway was at the home of George Corson, opposite the Meeting House. On the ground of the old church is the William Jeanes Memorial Library, built in 1935. Although the interior is a very modern library, the exterior follows the same Colonial style as the church and preserves the note of durability and simplicity. Today the Plymouth Meeting House stands stately and aloof, as if aware of the prestige its history gives to it. Stamped with enduring beauty and rugged honesty it is reminiscent of the integrity and sincerity of the sturdy pioneers who crossed the seas to find in the wilderness of America a place where they could worship God according to their conscience. Guarded by century-old trees, many of these pioneers are sleeping in the graveyard behind the Meeting House. Their gentle spirits seem to hover about their beloved house of worship as they keep faith with those who have followed in the paths they blazoned so long ago. Francis McGuigan '42 Indian House “Indian House” was the name of the colonial mansion in which my mother lived when she was a little girl. It stood on Conshohocken Road between Villa-nova and West Conshohocken, and was a typical two-story colonial structure surrounded by spacious grounds. On a huge marble inset between the windows on the second floor were carved two Indians. This tablet gave the house its name. Just outside the kitchen door was a deep well valuable to the household for its lime water. At the rear of the house stood a big rambling barn in which cattle were slaughtered. The grounds were almost surrounded by a stream over which an old arch-bridge, built low, cast shadows on spots where the ducks swam and the frogs croaked in the bushes. The interior of “Indian House consisted of nine large low-ceilinged rooms each furnished in colonial style. For some reason stories began to be circulated about mysterious noises that were heard in the house and a ghostly visitor who appeared at the windows. After a while, no one dared to live in the house, and it was torn down. My mother often talks about “Indian House and I wish that I could have lived there. It would have been an experience worth treasuring. Robert Wesley '43 Thirty THE MIRROR