Waukegan High School - Annual W Yearbook (Waukegan, IL)

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C Ia-.snr Prophecy. ETHEL DUNN. 3 mates, have imposed upon me, is a very hard one. jg How I, who was not a prophetess or who had made .SSE no study of the mystic sciences, could raise the veil of the future and peer into the darkness of the beyond, I could not conceive. The hopelessness of my task filled me with terror, it haunted me sleeping and waking, I could not get away from it. While in this state of mind, I received an invitation to attend a meeting of wise men, men who had dug deeply into the mys- teries of the knowledge of the East. Among those present was a man of majestic mien and presence. All bowed in deference to him, and they called him master. My Hxed gaze drew his attention, and the mysterious man approached me. I felt a feeling of awe, of reverence, come over me. My daughter, he said in a deep, musical voice, U you are unhappy. What cloud has come over one so young? 'l hen almost unconsciously I told him of my task. U Rash youths, he exclaimed, 44 that they should seek to know what the future has in store for them. Sorrow, as well as happiness, comes to all. It is better not to know, yet, as they have appointed you to this task, follow me, and fear not. He led me away into an apartment so strange that for a moment I hesitated to enter. Its walls and ceilings were seem- ingly an entire representation of the heavens, yet the moon, planets and stars seemed to stand out as if nothing supported them. My mysterious guide motioned me to a luxurious couch. Mechanically I obeyed. No sooner had I sunk into its soft embrace than a dreamy feeling possessed me. The Whole room, moon. planets and stars, seemed to revolve with incredible swiftness, carrying me with it. Then as if possessed of some mysterious clairvoyant power, a if' wig HE task of writing this prophecy which you, my class- il ..5-

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.r Now we see a healthy, sound-minded class giving brilliant promise for the last act and the curtain drops. Act V. The final polish and crystalizatiou of twelve years of study. Now the main characters appear unshadowed by any minor ones. Their number is forty, no more, no less. Those who in preceding acts have taken their parts with little work, now find that they have a hai der part to play. A Senior is never seen without books. Debates! and essays! and declamations! by the Seniors inspire silent enthusiasm in every audience. I say silent because applause was prohibited. Athletics as before are successful. The Senior boys hold the inter-class basket ball championship. Good sense is a prominent characteristic of this class. No class ever graduated with such good management and so few difficulties. The class has become what every class should be, not an over worked crammed company, but a robust one with a general prac- tical store of knowledge destined to be of the greatest use on the great stage of the world. The last scene you have before you: the play of high school life is now ended. What has actually taken place is as far as I can go, and it re- mains for thc prophet to take you on to the future. E1 ..5..

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succession of scenes formed before me and I saw what each and every one of my classmates was doing. First, I looked into a ward in a large hospital. A sweet faced nurse was moving softly about. Looking at her closely, I saw it was Bernice West. She bent over a man lying on one of the cots, and I heard some one say, That is the world's champion diver. He dived from too high a bridge last time and as a result is here. As Bernice moved aside I saw the man's face, and it was Emil Streed. A large church now appeared, the minister was pleading with his congregation to lead better lives. From his own wild youth he understood the fascination of sin, but he had learned that ' 'The wages of sin is death. As he pleaded I noticed something famil- iar about him. Yes, it was Rev. Arthur Wright. Our Arthur, a doctor of divinity-well, strange things will happen. In the minister's pew, looking admiringly at her husband and hanging on his every word, was Jennie Hanna. The church faded from my sight and I saw a beautiful lake, on the banks of which was an humble fisherman's cottage, but an air of contentment rested on the place. As I looked, a boat came sailing into the harbor and up to the landing. A woman ran from the house to meet the returning fisherman, and when they turned and walked slowly toward the house, behold! the happy fisherman and his wife were Paul Barnes and Ellen Streed. Again the scene changed. Before me was a large room, brilliantly lighted. Here many men were gathered, excitement ran high. In the center of the room, seated at a table eagerly engaged in a game, were the champion gamblers of the West! And there among them, oh, how it grieves me to tell it, were Christie Hollstein and Walter Brean. Who would have thought that our innocent schoolmates would come to this? A far different place next came to view. It was a church- yard. Here among the graves was one on which sweet tiowers grew. At its head was a large white stone and on it was engraved: Charles Kingsburv. The Good Die Young. I have always heard that tombstones lie, and now I believe it. The graveyard changed to a busy streetg down it came a richly-attired lady, and I heard someone say, There comes the richest woman in the United States. There is no knowing how much Rebecca Rosenblum is worth. -7-