Tuscola High School - Tuscolian Yearbook (Tuscola, IL)

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THE TUSCOLIAN 21 station filled he acquitted himself most successfully, and now, after a long and useful political career, in the vigor of his mental and physical manhood, he has been honored by the unanimous choice of his party with the nomination for the highest office in the gift of the people, that of president. “1 feel that it is superfluous to mention the name of one who is known from coast to coast, whose deeds are discussed at every fire-side, and one who will be brought forth in history as Charles Monroe, President of the United States of America. Mrs. Monroe, formerly Wilna Tresenwriter. enjoys planning banquets and speeches for him. They will be accompanied on a trip to Europe next month by Helen Hollingsworth, a noted chemist and Emma Phillips who is waiting to be claimed the second George Eliot.” She paused, again piercing Fred’s eyes as if to see if he believed. Then with a clear voice she continued: ‘‘Alliece Warren married a rich merchant. He died and she, wishing to travel, secured Clarabelle Henson and Lyra Bird as traveling companions. They are now in London where Clarabelle and Lyra are competing for a certain golf trophy. While there they met Harriett Jane Bell who has been for the past year doing missionary work in the Samoan Islands. She finds this climate very beneficial to her health.” She paused, and Fred asked: “The Camargo girls, Irene Fry and Doris Drinkwater.” A flash of dazzling light made him jump, but she spoke as if the brilliant light helped her. “They are both successful school teachers. Estella Roy is teaching mathematics in the Hayes University.” Silence. Fred shivered at the mystic, weird appearance of the room, which seemed more gloomy by contrast with the white lights preceding it. He drew forth a note book and read the names of his fellow students. “What’s old Smith doing?” “Well, he and Lottie are married and are living on the old farm. He preaches at the country church on Sunday and during the week ekes out a living by farming. Ruth Gates and Maude Ilallowell who are expert stenographers always plan to spend their vacations in the country with them.” “And Frances, Clarice, Ferris, and Ruth Pogue, did their dreams come true?” “Yes. They have been in Paris, but have recently returned to America and are now giving concerts in New York. They say that they have quite a number of laurel wreaths and a few olive branches too.”

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20 THE TUSCOLIAN SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY A distinguished looking person was aimlessly sauntering down Sixth avenue in Paris gazing at the many advertisements in some of the overcrowded shop windows. This person was commonly known as Fred L. Williams, president of the National Baseball Players League. While waiting for an interview with Mr. Glen A. Thompson, the city’s great cartoonist, Fred was attracted by a certain sign swinging to and fro in an unusual manner. He hesitated, felt in his pockets, nodded with satisfaction, and proceeded to walk in. The interior was gloomy, but having accustomed himself to the twilight, Fred saw many oriental articles, including a rug, some vases, and a dark-eyed maid with slanting optics, who on his entrance disappeared immediately. Fred with the indifference to outside elements which characterized him in his youth, for he had been young once, sat down and waited. Presently, from behind mysterious oriental curtains, a short dark lady glided silently into the room. Seating herself comfortably at a small table, and having adjusted her silken robes, she fixed her piercing black eyes on Fred’s blue ones making him so uncomfortable that to break the silence he said, “Oh Goddess of the Orient, judging from the sign on your door, you have been chosen to enlighten the inhabitants of your city. I have come to you seeking to know what paths of life my old school mates have taken.” She nodded her red turban and set many rings to bobbing in her ears, but not a word came from her cherry tinted mouth. Slowly she drew from somewhere a crystal ball and placed it on the table beside an ouija board. “Well,” she said, and waited. Evidently Fred did not know what she meant, for he sat as still as a mouse. She tried once more. “Signals,” she said. Immediately Fred was aroused and responded: “Oh, you must know that I graduated in the class of ’23 of T. C. II. S., and in the race for fame and dollar I lost sight of my pals. Tell me, before I burst with curiosity, what has become of them.” Staring into the magic ball, the woman began: “It is gratifying to note the distinction enjoyed by one who, in the dawn of his career, at school, gave promise of the remarkable abilities which have since been of such inestimable value in the various spheres in which they have been exerted. Recognizing that the exhibition of capacity for successfully handling small affairs would prepare him for the administration of more important duties, he strove to do all things well. In every

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22 THE TUSCOLIAN Watching a curious little group of light bulbs, Fred failed to see her hand flash forth and press a little button, but he did see the lights give a feeble radiance. “Dorothy Shreve,” said the woman, “is an artist of great fame. Mary Moorehead and Anna Smith are designers of Paris gowns while Vir-giealena Grigsby is a successful beauty parlor, manager.” “Where is Max Wayne Vest?” “He is a civil engineer and is at present in South America. Between engineering a bridge across the river and teasing the dark skinned maidens that frequent the river bank, his time is well taken.” They sat in silence a few minutes. Suddenly a brilliant glare, as the sun on a walk in summer, filled the room and the woman said: “Wilma Cedusky is in the Cannibal Islands acting the leading lady in a serial picture called ‘Sheba and Her Powder Puff’.” “And Harriet Michener, is she happy?” “Yes, she is Dean of Women at Greencastle. A few years ago one of Indiana’s fair daughters vamped one of Tuscola’s fairest sons, and so she is trying to teach the girls that they are to be sought and are not to seek. Don Rose, the editor-in-chief, has improved and advanced in that line of business. He is now editor of the ‘Garrett Tribune,’ also recognized as an authority on the transmission of bodies by means of Radio.” Looking at her, Fred saw floating above her a small German flag. It almost took his breath away, but even as he looked it disappeared and in its place waved the stars and stripes, held by some unseen hand. He gasped in surprise, but did not say a word. “Time out?” she inquired. “Oh, no. There is one more, Irene Dickinson.” She went to the door, pushed a button and the room was lighted in a natural glow. As she resumed her seat, Fred, in the better light, saw something which must have struck him dumb. “Are you so astonished?” she asked. “I had to earn a living some way, and this seemed the easiest.” —F. M., ’23.