Stoughton High School - Stotonian / Semaphore Yearbook (Stoughton, MA)

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' ' Monseigneur, A Petition! The lone carriage jolted along the dusty highway bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun. Curried horses with silken manes drove the satin lined coach. Monseigneur reclined elegantly in a far corner of the luxurious affair. Suddenly, the foaming horses drew to a halt, and the occupant of the carriage assuming an indifferent air. leaned out. What is it vou want . ' he asked of the young woman who confronted him. ' Tor the sake of the Holy Father. Monseigneur. A petition. The woman ' s haggard face was drawn and aged. Deep shadows lined her sunken eyes. The colorless lips opened slightly and she mumbled, For my husband. Monseigneur. he is dead and lies buried beneath a little grassy mound. Ah. Monseigneur! It is so sad. 1 beg of you — Again? interrupted the bored aristocrat. Please, Monseigneur. but a bit of stone or wood — anything with mv husband ' s ;iame inscribed upon it. Monseigneur was fast becoming impatient and denoted this by tapping his daintily shod foot against the rim of the wheel. His sympathies were unmoved, devoid of life and love for humanity. Casuallv he adjusted his powdered wig. Casuallv he smoothed the lact frills of the embroidered collar. Still more casually he studied his nails. The woman, wishing to pursue her object, wrung her scrawny hands and sighed impatiently. Her faded apparel clung to her like a last thread of hope. The ashen lips trembled and tears of remorse filled the sunken eyes. A slight breeze stirred the graying hair and fanned the fevered brow. Monseigneur was by now twirling his waxed moustache. Did he care. ' Could he make his escape from this living scarecrow? Anything, anything to get away from her petition. Petitions! That s all they thought of, these dogs. In a moment the valet had thrust the woman aside, and the carriage rolled off into the dusk. Monseigneur again adjusted his wig and heaved a sigh of relief as he settled back against the satin cushions. On a hill far away the lone figure of a woman sobbed at the foot of the rugged Cross of Our Saviour and prayed silently. Meanwhile. Monseigneur and the remain- ing nobility twirled the waxed moustaches of a devastated nation and adjusted their powdered wigs. (Adapted from an incident in A Tale of Two Cities — C. Dickens) HELEN ACOULIS ' 39 Page Txcenty-eight

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Se?lior Class P aV (Continued) Angelyn Zienko took the part of Sophie, the maid; Leon Burkett, the role of Hal; Pete was played by Leroy Litchfield; Jane, by Patricia Williams; Miriam, by Mary Rivella; Edna Rafalko played the part of Vivian; Jerry DiPrizio, Elizabeth Daly and Alice Stanwood; — all did excellent in their respective roles. During the intermissions between the acts the school orchestra, under the capable direction of Miss Minnie Goeres, rendered several selections which were well received by the audience. At the close of the performance, Chester Smith, in behalf of the cast, presented beautiful bouquets to Miss Dorothy Arnold, director and coach of the production and to Miss Ruth Dainty, in charge of scenery and properties. The entire play well reflected the immense amount of work that had gone into its production and the strenuous efforts of the various members of the faculty, com- mittees, and of the class as a whole which made it such a success. That inevitable time when many things come to an end. When fate takes a hand and leads us through the roads of life. There are Seniors who always seem to dread the day, when At graduation they leave their days of delight. Of delight, of work, of duties, all combined. Of carefree days, with work and realizations; Yet it ' s only the end of one important climb, It ' s but the beginning of all their aspirations. As destiny takes each one by the hand, And launches them, each one on his career, They each begin, at last to understand That the day of yesteryear ' s future is here. Their shoulders to the wheel, they climb the rocky road; Each has his star: He ' s beginning to near the goal. MARY RIVELLA ' 37 Page Twenty-seven

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Literary (Continued) Have you ever had a nightmare: a niglitmare that haunts you throughout the entire night; one that keeps popping up in your mind for days and days, and weeks and weeks afterwards; is so consistent in its reappearances that your marks grad- ually change to hrighter color, while you lose weight, forget to eat, and no longer look like your normal healthy, cheerful self? Such a thing happened to me. Let me tell you about it. I had just retired for the evening after indulging in a little snack — to be specific — three doughnuts, a banana, y- lb. cheese, a crabmeat sandwich, and 1 4 of a choc- olate layer cake. Being at peace with the world and having had an elegant suffici ency, I snuggled down in the covers, allowing my mind to drift off to vague and misty regions. Suddenly strong fingers clapped down on my shoulders (perhaps it was the crab ' s claws I wheeling me about, face to face with a very dark chocolate faced man. That he was worried was aj)parent. La ers upon layers of wrinkle lined his features. An explanation for this was forthcoming when he made known his reasons for so rudely whirling me around. His name was Mr. B. A. Scout; his occupation, a moving-picture producer. As all the stars in Hollywood were sick-a-bed with the flu. production was at a standstill. One brilliant M.G.M. board member had conceived the idea of finding twins to fill in for the stars until they could once more resume work — and, that ' s where I came in. said Mr. B. A. Scout. The board of directors had ap|)ointed me to find the exact dup- licate of each actor and actress pla) ing in a current production. With my thoughts as muddled as if a cyclone had struck them, I stumbled into school, staring at every one I met, trying to fit them into «ome star ' s shoes. On my way to Room 23 I ran into Jimmy Dykeman and let out a whoop of glee. With his way with the ladies and exceedingly good looks he was a perfect Clark Gable — one off in list. Next I went in search of a little girl with blond curls to fill in for Shirley Temple — of course Alice (Shorty) Stanwood was my choice. Third on my list was Freddie Bartholomew. My hunt for a dark curly-haired boy noted for his gentlemaidy actions and all round good behavior wound up in Calvin Porter. Then came Mae West. Hm-m-m. thought 1, she must have an over abundance - along with a pleasing personality. Ah. I found just the one — Irene Tirelis. Now, there ' s my Mickey Mouse sneaking around the corner again. Robert Evans. But one had me stuck. Charles Laugblon. The person to fill this bill would necessarily have to be serious minded, a good actor, and slightly portly. After searching for ages I found him in the person of Felix Truczinskais. Next came Greta Garbo. The one for this j art would have to be very quiet, a person who likes being alone. Betty Staples where art thou? Oh, I almost forgot Fred Astaire. Who is small, very agile, with a grand Page Tivenfy-