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

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The Perry Jewels SITUATED in as gloomy an atmosphere as that which surrounded the “House of Usher” is the old Perry mansion. The murky air seems exactly fitted to the shadowy place. The house is of imposing proportions even by daylight, but in the fog it seems actually enormous as it sprawls atop a small hill. The architect, apparently, was a pessimist for the gables, bay windows, and other protrusions glare in contempt at human beings. We approached the house with some trepidation and, halting at the door from which the plate glass had been removed, gazed into the large colonial reception room whose broken window-panes and half-crumbling walls presented a scene of desolation. A huge chandelier dangled periously from the weakened ceiling. The villagers had described this chandelier to us. In fact, they had given us an account of the entire house, including the tale of the missing Perry jewels. According to legend, the sale of the bankrupt Perry family’s goods, to pay off debts accumulated by the last of the clan, had not included the famed Perry jewels. No amount of investigation disclosed any trace of the gems. After the sale, the house was left to decay, and again and again marauding searching parties had explored the old home, hoping to find the treasure, but all failed. Actuated by curiosity, we decided to do a little exploring ourselves. While we hesitated at the door, uncertain about entering, a sudden storm arose with the violence of a tempest. The old house shook, the weakened walls trembled dangerously, and the chandelier swayed with the increasing velocity of the wind. Suddenly a great crack appeared in the center of the ceiling and slowly widened. Even as we watched the gigantic candelabrum broke loose and came crashing down. The floor gave way beneath it and part of the fixture sank below the surface leaving the uppermost portion at floor level. Fascinated, we gazed at the sight that met our eyes. Lined around the circular iron flange at the top of the chandelier were bracelets, necklaces and rings — a wealth of glittering gems. The mystery of the Perry jewels was solved at last. Edward V. Fineran, ’43 Paradise Lost (Continued from Page Twenty two) Then, came the inevitable meeting with the top-sergeant. Well, maybe the stories about these men are a little exaggerated, but I still believe that to be a top-sergeant you have to have a stone heart and the loudest voice in the camp. The food was delicious, but I soon got tired of beans three times a day. Then I received my equipment which consisted of a rifle and a few other necessaries. These I was ordered to place neatly in a pack, and report for drill. Drilling in the hot sun in the parade ground with rifle and pack was the most gruesome of the labors at the camp. After a century our platoon was dismissed, and we prepared for supper by peeling a few hundred potatoes. We were, at this point, entitled to an hour of relaxation, but I had to fix my belongings in a locker, which contained one-half of the space I needed. But, “where there’s a will, there’s way,” and I really accomplished a packing miracle. As I was very tired, I prepared to retire for the night, but this was not to be. To make the day perfect, I was ordered to go on guard from ten to twelve. Well, I didn’t collapse as I thought I would, but it was then and then only that I realized how easy I had had it at home, and that I had lost paradise when I entered the Army. James McFadden, ’45 THE MIRROR Thirty

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Perseverance TOTHING to the game at all; it’s easy.” This is what the country club “pros” say when talking about golf. But just you make a “stab” at this simple game. First of all you pay a fortune for clubs, balls, anti lessons taken from that man who makes the game sound so easy by his smooth “malarky.” After a few introductory maneuvers you are ready for action. You get out to the course betimes to “get an early start,” as you say. You really want to get there before your fellow club members, so that you may practise a bit. Bravely you march up to the first tee. While planting the tee in the ground, you rehearse the “pro’s” instructions; “Relax; fix the feet firmly; now, a slow backswing.” You follow these instruction perfectly, as you think, but when you look to see that little white pill floating through the air all you see is the blue sky. What has happened? The question is easy to answer; you never came near the ball. Don’t give up yet, though; you’ll learn. Next time you at least dribble the balj off the tee. Then you get a smug satisfied look on your face, and decide to set a new course record. You strive hard for about four hours and, at last, you finish. But where is that course record? The “pro” says it’s easy. Well, I wish you luck; maybe in about thirty years you will set a record. If you do, I beg you never to talk as those easy going “pros” do, and get some other “hackers” like yourself worked up about setting a record. It may be good golf, but it is “not cricket.” Joseph Foley, ’44 Twilight Between the time when Daylight leaves the wood, And o’er it Darkness slowly drops her hood. With sandled feet, the Twilight, for a space Walks through the woodland with unearthly grace Bill Johnson, ’43 The Wind’s Invitation The wind came out of the hills today And whispered softly, “Come and play Among the fleecy clouds with me. I’ll take you far out o’er the sea. And show you magic barques that sail Forever down the rainbotv’s trail. You’ll ride upon a gently breeze High over virgin-forest trees; Life’s hidden beauties you shall vietv, A privilege that’s giv’n to few; And. when we’ve crossed the farthest plain. You’ll find that you are home again.” Mary O’Connor, ’43 THE MIRROR T wenty-nine

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TRADITIONAL DUST Light of Other Days SPRING Mill, a charming village adjoining Conshohoekcn on the east, has recollection of some of the most famous people in the early history of our country. Among those whose names are connected with the locality is Benjamin Franklin, who often visited this vicinity. One day he noticed a stream rippling rhythmically through the meadows, playing hide-and-seek among the moss-covered rocks. It looked like a ribbon of quick silver thrown over the emerald green of the valley. The water was so remarkably clear that lazy lizards, resting at the bottom of the brook, resembled lovely pieces of old jade lying on bottle-green velvet, and the water plants, miniature forests in a glass case. Franklin was enchanted by the crystal clearness of the water and by its icy temperature and conceived a plan of piping it to Philadelphia. This idea, however, was never carried out. Today, Hamilton Paper Mills utilizes this stream in the manufacture of its famous product and the quality of the water plays an important factor in the manufacture of Hamilton Bond Papers. Another famous Spring Mill personage was Peter Le Geaux, who lived in THE MIRROR the house now known as Colonial Inn. Washington and Lafayette often visited him at his home and tradition says that he discussed with them the possibilities of transforming the encircling hills into vineyards. He intended to use the grapes for making champagne and envisioned the district as the nucleus of a great champagne industry in America. Both Franklin’s and Le Geaux’s plans were doomed to failure. Although Lee Tire and Rubber Company, Walkers, and other important industries are located here, some persons still mourn idyllically beautiful .Spring Mill as a land of lost opportunity. Bernadette Clark, ’45 Gulph Mills GULPH MILLS is a small settlement lying southwest of Conshohocken. The name is an intriguing one to the ordinary observer, and for a time, puzzled even terminologists. “On very old documents the place is usually called ‘Gulph’. In the 19th century the preferred spelling was ‘GulT, but today there has been a return to the earlier orthography.” Once “Gulf”, or “Gulph” meant not only an indentation on the coast of a Thirty-one