1898

Before this issue of the MAGAZINE will have been issued, Ted and Bertha Liggett will have had a winter vacation in Florida at Fort Lauderdale and then on the West Coast.

Time is fast approaching to our 50-year Reunion in 1948. Preparations are already under way for President Joe has named as the 50Year Reunion Committee, Ted Leggett, Chairman, Jack Spring, Fred Lord, Ike Seelman and your secretary.

The death of another classmate Bradley C.Rodgers is reported. He died at the Ports mouth, N. H., Hospital on January 20, 1947, from a cerebral hemorrhage. Further notes will be found in the In Memoriam section of this issue.

It is always a real pleasure to receive a leter from a classmate though they rarely come. In the belief you will enjoy this letter from Harry Clark, here it is.

I really do not know what to say about my failures and your patience. Both are quite remarkable.

In my retirement here I seem to have returned to the primitive. I have lost all the schooling and manners I ever knew. Chores have reduced me to the mental state of the man with the hoe. In addition to these chores, since late July, or since your first letter, I have cut nearly fourteen cords of cordwood, hauled nearly all of it home, alone, with a big clumsy horse and a very small cart, stored it with much labor, cut nearly half of it into stove and furnace size and brought about four cords of it to the kitchen in my arms. But my taste for writing has become so weak that I turn in relief to such hard work rather than attempt a letter.

Yes, I rest some—days at a time. One would think I could write then. Some authors have risen to great heights while suffering pain, but, when I ache all oyer and my legs seem filed with lead, this very inferior mind produces neither poetry nor prose. My neglect extends to other matters:—Trout, within one hundred feet of my front door, have not been caught—my fish pole stands ready, on my back porch, but the hook rusts, and my worms die from neglect. A trapper has hopes for muskrat, mink and otter in my little brook, two hundred feet away, but my traps hang in the barn. Gray squirrels nest within stone's throw of my buildings and-eat my sweet corn, partridges fly by, three coons have been seen on the bridge right in my front yard, and others have been shot near by—my next door neighbor has shot a fox, and deer have eaten his apples- (right now the trapper brought an otter to my rront door) there are rabbits., hedge hogs and wild cats in the nearby woods—bear have been seen within a few miles, but my guns are covered with dust.

I did not neglect my quarter-acre of gardens. My hoe, forks, shovels and cultivator were always bright from use; Insects and blight worked day and night and were never under control, but we did fairly well —blight took my eighty hills of staked tomatoes when loaded with big, just ripening fruit, and it went on to my potatoes and musk meions. But, after picking some bushels of beans, in the snap and shell stages, I still had a hundred pounds of dry beans. And my over three hundred pounds of squashes are the best I have ever .grown. The four principal enemies of the apple were very numerous this year, but I had a few very fine apples, also a very few peaches, raspberries and strawberries.

My one child, Martha L. Clark, is an art superintendent in the" schools of Coos Bay, Oregon. Her work covers various crafts and skills:-—even to leather work, pottery, metal and woodwork. She is also an assistant in summer park work for children. She was recently written up in the town paper for personality and excellent work.

My wife is the finest companion I have ever known, hard working, patient, gentle. Displeasure never raises her voice. She is a lover of flowers which she raises in great abundance—and of the best music, which she gets over the radio. But she has some drawbacks to her health and has to follow a very strict diet.

Many of our maples and elms, once beautiful, strong trees, have been somewhat broken by hurricanes and defoliated by their enemies, but still seem good for many years. I was seventy-five years old a month ago. I am faded a little. My fingers are crooked, and I cannot run any more, but the good Father still grants me strength to stay on foot.

Now if those other four delinquents make as honest confessions as I have, you will be the class priest, as well as secretary. I am sure that we can respect you.

I enclose my check for three dollars, and also three of your envelopes to use on other slow members.

Before you read these notes you will have heard from Jack Spring about the Alumni Fund. Won't you help make the work easier for Jack who has been doing such fine work as agent and send along your check now, if you have riot done so, and Jack will not be the least bit angry if you make an increase in your contribution over that of last year.

Secretary and Treasurer, 14 Sayward St., Dorchester, Mass.

ANNUAL NEW YORK. DINNER, APRIL 16 HOTEL COMMODORE AT 6:30 P.M.