Tuscola High School - Tuscolian Yearbook (Tuscola, IL)

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LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF THE CLASS OF 1909 By Della Stevenson. '09. We, the Senior Class of Tuscola High School, in the county of Douglas, and State of Illinois, students, considering the uncertainty of this life, do make and declare and publish til's, our last will and testament: First. We give and bequeath unto our beloved faculty our unstinted love and immeasurable gratitude, to have and to hold the same to them for and during their natural life. Second. We give and bequeath to the Junior Class all the Latin ponies we possess for their future use while trodding the stony path of Virgil. We also give to the said Junior Class our fondest hope and desire that they may never cause the beloved faculty as much worry and trouble as we have done. We further bequeath to the Juniors all our reserved seats in the front row after we have departed this life. May 29, 1909. Third. We give, devise and bequeath to the present sophomore Class all our good looks, which they are sorely in need of, all our remarkable genius, and talent without limit. Fourth. We give and bequeath to the Freshman Class all our playthings and A, B, C books left from childhood days. Fifth. We do cheerfully and willingly give and bequeath to the Board of Education any unpaid bills we may leave. Further, we give and devise to the above-mentioned Board of Education our order for the best coffin in stock and a lot in the shadiest part of the cemetery as our final resting place. Further, we do will and bequeath to the same above-mentioned Board of Education all the money left from the sale of the annuals after we have paid all the students whom we forgot to roast, a significant sum of money if they won’t get provoked at us for such a negligent act. Sixth. We devise and bequeath: Howard Fuller’s revised edition on “How to Make Love, to Thomas Bundy. Virgie Foster’s blushes to Mary Rice. Edith Goodspeed’s giggles to Carrie Early. Leon Jones’ English version of Cicero to Nellie Hinkle. Frank Bassett’s good looks to Beulah Truitt. Henry Wamsley’s popularity to Cecil Heacock. Judson Owen’s solemnity to Edna Chase. Lena Timm’s wisdom to Earl Parker. Willis Van Voorhis’ desire to know more to Horace Shonle. Ralph Reeves’ new hat to Leslie Ponder. Winifred Jones’ Billy Burke Puffs to Anna Oye. Florence Snyder’s coquettishness to whom it may concern. Wayne Calhoun’s originality to Lucile Watkins. Gertrude Lewis’ extreme knowledge of Talkology to Letta Irwin. 22

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Marching up to the front, Wayne returns look for look of all three —cat, owl and man. Man looks at the cat, the cat looks at the owl, and the owl looks at the man, and under the owl’s seeming gaze the man begins: “Before me, in a crowded court room, I see in the prisoners’ dock a young man who is being tried for murder. Standing before the jurors and talking in a most emphatic and clear, precise tone, is a young lawyer, which is you, my young friend, ten years from now. Although yet very young, you have the courage of Burke, to say what you mean in exactly that way. “All evidence seems to be against the prisoner. Yet the jurors are not willing to pronounce him guilty as you stand there telling them the exact facts. They at last file out. After what seems to be an age, the foreman announces the prisoner “not guilty.” Many are the congratulations bestowed on you, and even now a blue-coated fellow brings in the guilty one, who falls weeping before the judge. You are a success.” “Well, of course you are a success—who wouldn’t know that,” said one young fellow to Wayne, as he passed back to allow room for Gertrude Roe. “The small store on the corner seems to have much attraction, from the number of women and girls passing in a continual stream there. “Step in. There, bending over the counter pushing out bottle after bottle of Gertrude Roe’s Latest Invention, Face Powder,’ is Gertrude herself. She is saying: ‘None like it. Keeps the face white, pure and removes freckles and tan all at the same time.’ ” Howard Fuller, the last of the merry group, now makes his way majestically to the front, and every ear is strained to hear his fortune. 1 he spirits of all seem to be interested for the transparent forms intermingle with those substantial ones of the cat, the owl, the man. “You have grown to be a tall young man and very wise-looking. In fact, you are running a matrimonial agency, and are perfectly contented with the continual running of women and girls from 6 o’clock in the morning until 6 o’clock at night. Another success.” They all now were through, all had experienced that sensation, looking into the future. Some at first d d not appear satisfied, but wdien they were once more out of that gruesome hole and felt the warm light of the late afternoon sun beat down on them, they threw all care away and thought only of the joy that had been their’s and was to be their’s yet to come. 21

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Gertrude Roe’s pride to Madaline Wiedmann. Jessie Niles’ cpiietness to Arthur Bollman. Ernest Moore’s stock of German lore to anyone already supplied. Faye Collins’ artistic temperament to Irene Bollman. Earl Williamson’s level-headedness to Nelle Jones. Lastly, we do give and bequeath Will Campbell and Jennie Bonner's love to Ross Maris and Ida Ammen. Seventh. We do hereby nominate and appoint our Superintendent, Mr. Hoover, to be executor of this, our last will and testament. In testimony whereof, we hereunto set our hand and seal, and publish and decree this to be our last will and testament, in the presence of the witnesses named below, this........day of............... in the year of our Lord, 1909. (Seal.) SENIOR CLASS. Signed, sealed, declared and published by the said Senior Class, as and for their last will and testament, in the presence of us. who, at their rec|itest, and in their presence, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses hereto. Claire O’Hair, residing at Tuscola, 111. Lora Henion, residing at Tuscola, 111. CLASS POEM By Wayne Calhoun, '09. From the breezy, broad campus. • From the ancient firs and hemlocks, From the walls of brick and mortar, F'rom the floors and desks and blackboards, F'rom the breasts of the professors And the hearts of the instructors, From the grinning mugs of Freshmen, From the sombre Sophy faces And the lips of the docile Juniors, I can hear a painful murmur. As of falling, rushing waters. Hear a wailing and a crying. Like laments of some one dying; I can hear a dreary mourning See the crepe above the doorway, See the casket of diplomas. And away off in the distance, I perceive a great battalion Of Carnegie’s gold aspirants— Prodigies grown in Tuscola; Born and reared without a bottle. They are not poor, scrawny Juniors, Don’t portray smart, Sophy instincts, Don’t resemble gawky Freshies. 23