Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL)

 - Class of 1932

Page 12 of 40

 

Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1932 Edition, Page 12 of 40
Page 12 of 40



Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1932 Edition, Page 11
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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1932 Edition, Page 13
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Page 12 text:

10 Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two “Here, take that body out of the casket.” The huskies obeyed. “Now put this one in it!” Again they obeyed. Soon the stones were rattling on the casket containing, instead of Arnold Stephens Esq., his son, Arnold Jr. The moan of the trees served as his funeral dirge. A few minutes later Dr. Bones and his students carried the body of old Stephens away The next day the advanced surgical class cut it to pieces to see what it was made of. Of course, people wondered about Arnold Jr. For months they looked for him, but the search seemed hopeless from the start. Finally the heirs erected a monument over the grave of the elder Stephens. Dr. Bones was highly interested in this fund for the monument. In fact he was one of the chief contributors. After the monument was erected he went to the cemetery to see it. This was the lettering on it: “Here lies Arnold Stephens. He did of a strange disease.” On the other side was this lettering: “In memory of Arnold Stephens who mysteriously disappeared. Where, no one knows, shortly after the death of his father. He has never been heard from since.” “Such is life,” he laughed, “you can’t even trust a tombstone!” —D. Fickling. THOUGHTS OF ONE ILL. Have you ever had to miss school on account of sickness? If not, perhaps you cannot realize the thoughts of one who is ill. When one is sick he has nothing to do except to lie in bed and allow his mind to wander. Probably a good many thoughts of a student are based upon his school work and activities. The student will ask himself such questions as these: When will I be able to return to school? Will I ever get my work made up? What is the excitement, if any, at school? I wonder who failed to get his lesson for today? Every day that one misses school, no doubt he thinks of all of these things. When ill, one usually enjoys receiving letters better than any other time. It is an excellent plan to write to one who is sick and to tell him all the school news. Besides giving the sick person enjoyment, it will also relieve his mind and keep him from worrying about his lessons. If one doesn’t worry so much, he will recover more rapidly and be able to return to school much more rested than when he left. —B. Brady. THE GIRLS’ LEAGUE. The Girls’ League is composed of all the girls in high school. At the close of the year a banquet is given for all girls who are eligible to attend. They must have a specified number of points to attain elegibility.

Page 11 text:

Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two 9 R MysaernooDS Dnsaiipipea irainKS© ----------------------------------------------------------------•+ Even tombstones lie. Don’t you believe it? Well, listen. Dr. Bones was a professor in a medical college. He was a famed professor, but he had one mania. That was to dissect human bodies. He begged, borrowed, and stole to obtain them. Then, under his careful directions, his advanced surgery class cut them to pieces and put them together again. If a person was ill with disease “Old Bones” always tried to obtain the body, following the person’s death. If the relatives refused to sell, Bones, with two husky young assistants, (whom half the college thought crazy,) armed themselves with shovels and picks, and spent a quiet evening at grave-robbing. Well, it was all like this. Old Arnold Stephens happened to live in this town where Dr. Bones taught. In fact, he was a friend of Dr. Bones. Now, suddenly Mr. Stephens became ill with a strange malady. Doctors were called but nothing could be done for him. Of course, this aroused Dr. Bone’s curiosity and he determined by hook or crook that he’d have that body! Mr. Stephens died. Bones promptly applied for permission to dissect the body. Mr. Stephens’ son, Arnold Jr., said “No!” loudly and emphatically. “All right,” said Dr. Bones. “That’s quite all right, my lad. I can appreciate your feelings in the matter. It’s quite all right.” But even as he said it, Arnold Jr. caught that maniacal gleam in his eye and began to fear for the safety of his father’s body. In time Mr. Stephens was buried. It was a dark, dismal, rainy day. The night that followed was black as pitch. The wind howled and howled. About midnight, Mr. Bones and his two huskies, armed with graverobbing tools, set out on an expedition. It took them, quite by accident of course, to Mr. Stephens’ grave. They started digging. As they went farther down, their shovels grated on the lid of the wooden casket. Stones rolled and rattled from their shovels. At last they reached the casket and were able to lift it out. Cautiously, they raised the lid of the casket. By the pale, ghostly light of the moon they saw the corpse of Mr. Arnold. Back of a nearby bush a man stood watching them. Now he crept carefully forward—step by step. Suddenly he flung himself on Dr. Bones. He threw him. Perhaps, had Bones been alone, he could have easily defeated him. As it was, with two other men to deal with, Arnold had no chance. One of the two students hit him on the head with a shovel. Se sank to the ground. Dr. Bones bent over him. The heart was still beating faintly. “He’s dead all right!” The assistant started. “What’ll we do?” he whispered in a frightened manner. “Why nothing of course,” responded the experienced Dr. Bones.



Page 13 text:

Spring, Nineteen Thirty-two 11 ----------------------------------------------------------------—+ DifflOTraMninigis ©1! si FoauinittsiDm Fern ----- —.—.— --- —...-------------------------------------------- On first glance at me, a casual observer might think that I was just one more poor, old, common fountain pen. Well, I may be old, but I’m certainly not common. Why, let me tell you this, one of my ancestors came over on the Mayflower! Now don’t smile and tell me they didn’t have fountain pens in those days, because I know that. But, just the same, he was my ancestor, and that is probably more than you can say about yours. But, oh my, I feel a talking spell coming on, so if you will sit quietly, I’ll tell you about myself. Well, I can’t tell you anything about how I was made, for at that time I was too young to sit up and take notice. The first thing I knew, I found myself in a lovely box, lying on a soft, cotton bed. It was dark in the box, so I cautiously raised myself on one elbow and peered out. I seemed to be in a huge, barn-like place, all encased with glass, and all around me were boxes similar to mine. Jumping out, I ran over to the first one and looked in. Well, bless my soul! If there wasn’t another of my species, only this one looked as old as Methusaleh, and had whiskers clear down to his waist. “Hey!” I yelled, “Get up, Noah, and tell me about this place and what I’m doing in it.” “You young scoundrel!” said Noah. “If you ever wake me up like that again, I’ll pull your ears. Such ignorance! But you certainly asked the right fellow. I’ve lived here nigh on to twenty years, and I’ve seen pens come and go. You’re in a jewelry store, lad, and if you don’t watch out someone will soon come in and buy you!” With this he turned over and went to sleep again. It began to get lighter, and soon the clerk came in and began to arrange our boxes more artistically. Not long after some customers began to come in and look us over. One young man came rushing in, pulled a large bill out of his pocket, and said he was in a hurry and wanted to buy a gift for a friend. Well, in a few minutes, I was taken out, wrapped up, and off I went on my first adventure. Finally, I grew tired of being jiggled around in this man’s coat pocket and I tried to poke my head out of the box. My movement was just enough to make the box tip, and I landed in the gutter with a terrific thump. For a minute I just lay there, I felt so sick, and then I tried my best to get out of that box. It couldn’t be done, for the string was tied too securely. After waiting and waiting, I heard a voice say “My stars, what have we here?” and I was raised off the ground. My wrapping was torn off, the lid raised, and a wrinkled old face peered in at me. “For the land of mercy,” exclaimed the old woman. “God must have sent this for my poor Mary’s birthday!” I was so weary, I just dropped to sleep and when I next woke up, I

Suggestions in the Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) collection:

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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1930 Edition, Page 1

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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1931 Edition, Page 1

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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1933 Edition, Page 1

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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1934 Edition, Page 1

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Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL) online collection, 1936 Edition, Page 1

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