Yale High School - Bulldog Yearbook (Yale, MI)

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friends a day, exceptionally happy, yet in some re- spects a sad one. Happy, that we have finished our school course; happy, to have reached the place for which we have so long yearned ; but sad ; sad be- cause it is the parting day of our school companion- ship; sad, because it completes the course wherein we have toiled with but few clouds to obscure the brightness and sunshine of life’s joyous morning. It is with an undefined feeling of regret, longing and sorrow, rising in our hearts as we bid farewell to the many golden school days, that we almost wish they were not yet finished. We hope that pleasant thoughts of this evening will come to you in after years as the poet express- ed it in the following thought, — The song I breath- ed into the air, fell to the earth I knew not where; but long, long afterwards, I found it again in the heart of a friend. Again we have come to the place where our path- ways diverge, when as teachers and pupils, we shall never be associated as in days gone by. Each one must now fill his place in the throng of humanity, striving for what is the highest and the best. But dear friends, let us not forget the happy days we have spent together, and let us always retain a warm interest in the welfare of one another al- though our ways be far apart. Again, dear friends, we say to all, — Welcome, thrice, Welcome.

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Salutatory By Ethel Martin Dear friends: We. th e class of nineteen and nine extend to you our heartiest greeting and wel- come you to our class exercises. We are pleased to see so many here to night who have taken so kindly an interest in what is to us a very important event. Happy, indeed, are we to greet you: you. who have done so much for us; you who have always been ready to make smooth the rough places in our paths; you, who have taKen so great an interest in the work which we are now leaving; and also you, dear schoolmates, who will almost too soon bid farewell to the many pleasant days of high school life. Some of our class have been associated since childhood, while others entered the class later re- ceiving such a warm welcome and friendly interest that it will be long remembered with gratitude. For some time we have been living in a miniature world of our own, forming the characters we are to retain through life, and preparing ourselves for the places we are to fill as men and women of today , striving for the best attainments; working lor the betterment of humanity and for the best interests of this bright and glorious land, for, — “Blessings do not fall in listless hands, by toil the soul must prove its steadfast purpose over all.” As the sturdy pioneer slowly but steadfastly made his way through the western wilderness, step by step, so we have reached the goal of our past hopes and ambitions; but, it is only now that we fully realize that we are far from the topmost round of the ladder of learning. e are as blocks of marble, which having been placed in the hands of talented sculptors, are form- ed into the great plan of the universe. Our actions and words today may not shine with the polish that a higher or a more liberal education would give; but. we ask you not to blame the sculptors who have so patiently labored with us, for time and time alone can reveal the possibilities which are conceived in the half formed blocks of marble. Aware of our deficiencies we stand on the thres- hold, behind us the door is closing to many happy days, in our hands are keys which will open strange and diverse doors of life, but we are left to our- selves which course to pursue. e realize that al- most all our future success depends upon this choice. But since we are about to leave the protec- tional influence which has counted for so much in our past welfare, we trust that the foundation of our lives is strong and firm enough upon which to build our future. We are not here tonight to display our knowl- edge. but to give what we hope will p rove an inter- esting exercise, and mark for ourselves and our

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Nature’s Voice By Mabel Phillips “To him who in the love of nature holds com- munion with her visible forms, she speaks a var- ious language ’ Nature has a voice for each individual whether great or small. It is true that we do not all appreci- ate it to the same extent. Nature does not speak to all in the same language, but we would be little better than lumps of clay if we were entirely indif- ferent to her offerings — the birds with their joy- ous carols and the bright fresh flowers tossing their heads in welcome to us. Then what a dis- play of surpassing beauty is brought out in the varying colors of the landscape. Every tint seems to reflect a beautiful thought. And is this not of use to us. It cheers our spirits in our sorrowing moments; it lifts our minds to regions of higher thought and we feel less inclined to the common things of life while the deeper propensities of our souls are being wrought upon. Indeed, the genu- ine pleasure that can be drawn from the beauties in nature are enough to compensate us for all the trials and sorrows we have to bear. As God in his wisdom has created men of var- ious minds, so too, he has fashioned the forms of nature to suit these minds. The scientist studies nature in a systematic way. He experiments and seeks out her mysteries and gives them to man- kind. The astronomer, botanist, physicist and chemist have revealed to us worlds of wonders which we would never have received had they not given their entire life to this wonderful study. We ought to appreciate these inheritances more and more as we become intimate with and are able to read a little from nature’s infinite book of secrecy. Nature does not teach the scientist alone but also the poet. Although the poet does not study her laws and seek to explain her workings, he is none the less sensitive to the voice of nature. His poetic soul responds to every sound and scene of beauty. Wordsworth had an especially keen eye and ear for her charms, and the colors and sounds are vividly reproduced in his poetry. Tennyson’s love of na- ture was scarcely inferior to that of Wordsworth. He felt a rest in her steadfastness patient progress and hopefulness, and saw in it the glory and great- ness of God. Bryant, our own American poet, was a true apostle of nature. He loved to roam alone in the fields and woods listening — “To winds that brought into their silent depths The murmur of mountain waterfalls.” Truly nature spoke a “various language” to him for above three fourths of his poems are direct sug- gestions from her. Thus God has called the scien- tist. poet and philosopher to interpret the three- fold meaning of his works and as the voice of na- x ture speaks to them, they give it to the multitudes.