>From the Files of Ethel Harriet Weaver Who died 23 April at the age of 100 A small booklet given to the students at the end of the school year no date but but believe it to be 1915. Printed by W. E. Seibert Pub Co. N Phila PA Front of booklet reads And now that were about to part, This little token with its rhymes, I give to you wilt all my heart, And hope you'll think of me sometimes. Inside the booklet Green Castle Public School -----O------ Northmoreland Twp. Wyoming Co. Pennsylvania ADA W. MINER, Teacher John E. Morgan, Co. Supt. ----o---- PUPILS Vergie Goble Ethel Weaver Nora Weaver Glenn Major LeRoy Rozelle Theodore Swartwood Mary Rozelle Elgie Goble Lewis Shippey Clifford Weaver John Walters Elizabeth Weaver Victor Swartwood Donald Majors Florence Weaver Bertha Goble Clyde Mathers Lawrence Major Henrietta Weaver Gertrude Walters Earnest Weaver Irvin Weaver James Mathers Bernice Brungess Russell Rozelle Sofia Swanikowski George Brungess Timothy Joble School Officers W.C. Gay ................... Pres. J. C. Weavcer ................ Sec. Willard Brungess............ Treas. The Close of School Old time according to his rule which he can't change or end, Now bids us close our term of school Our studies now suspended Time bids us lay our books aside, and rest awhile from care, Give Nature's walks and prospects wide And view her beauties rare For streams and glens and rocks and trees, Are never searched in vain, Each has its Citizens which please, And always entertain True rest is always most enjoyed, When we our tasks have done, Then comes a pleasure unalloyed, That we a rest have won. "Much study".so the wise man said, "Is weary to the flesh" So now vacation's paths you'll tread, And thus yourself refresh. And now this day we separate, And go our several ways. Oh! may your pathways all be straight, And pleasant be your days. Your Teacher Don't take it to heart There's many a trouble, Would beak like a bubble, And into the waters of Earth depart bid me not rehearse it, And tenderly nurse it, And give it a permanent place in the heart There's many a sorry Would banish to-morrow Were we not unwilling to furnish the wings, So sadly intruding And quietly brooding. It hatches out all sorts of horrible things. How welcome the seeming Of looks that are beaming, Whether one's wealthy or whether one's poor, Eyes bright as a berry Cheeks red as a cherry, The groan and the curse and the heartache can cure. Resolved to be merry, All worry to ferry Across the famed masters that bid us forget, And no longer fearful, But happy and cheerful, We feel life has much that's worth living for yet.