Natick High School - Sassamon Yearbook (Natick, MA)

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THE SASSAMOX PAGE ELEVEN States declared war on Germany, April 6, 1917. Then Jimmy ' s father immediately offered his services to the Government and was given a position of trust on the Ship- ping Board. Still Jimmy continued to idle away his time, doing apparently nothing. Sometimes Jimmy would take his hunt- ing outfit and go away into the woods for a week or ten days at a time, apparently on a hunting trip. His friends began to ig- nore him because the town in which he lived was very patriotic and had sent many men into the service. His mother beg ' an to wonder at his lack of spirit and his father became openly angry with him, but all to no avail, because Jimmy still stayed around the town, except when he left on his very frequent hunting trips. One day Jimmy went away and did not return as usual, at the end of the week. He did not return the next day, or that week, in fact, and then his mother began to grow worried about him. Two weeks passed and still no news from him. The woods where he usually went hunting were searched, notices were put in the papers, asking for information, and the news of his disappearance was spread broadcast, but still no news came. At last, one night, just as his mother was sitting down alone to her dinner, she heard someone come in the front door. She wondered which one of the servants had been out or who would come in with- out ringing. Then someone appeared in the doorway and she looked up to see a man in uniform standing there. She rose quickly from the table and walked toward him. As she was quite near si ghted, she did not notice who it was until she was very close and then she discovered it was her son, in a fine, new Captain ' s uniform. After the greeting was over, he led her to the library and there told her all about his apparent idleness, his mysterious dis- appearance and his unexpected return. Well, mother, ' he began, I suppose all the people had a pretty bad opinion of me and I don ' t blame them, because I ought to have been in uniform, but the depart- ment wouldn ' t let me until I had finished the job of running down the spy who had a wireless secreted in the woods. That is why I went on those hunting trips so often. Then one day when I went there, I found the man operating the wireless and tried to arrest him. I succeeded, but only after he had wounded me, so that I had to remain in bed for two weeks, after I got back to town. I didn ' t want to make you nervous, so I didn ' t write. That is why I disap- peared. Then after I got out of the hos- pital, I had to report at Washington and receive my commission and now I am home for a week before I leave with my company for France. H. PRESCOTT, ' 19. THE SOLDIER We sent him away a bright, clean, up- standing lad, perhaps a trifle inclined to like play better than work, but that was only natural, considering his bringing up. From the training camp, where he was stationed, he sent us humorous letters, lively descriptions of what the sergeant said to the rookies and how the buck pri- vate saluted the lieutenant. His letters, too, would make one think that camp life was all fun and no work had it not been that we privately knew from a chum that he was working hard for admission to an officers ' training camp. Then came a week when no letter cam?, two, three, and finally four weeks went by and still no word. We knew then what had happened — he had gone. When at last his letters came again, they were much the same as before. A jumbled lot of first impression — naive expressions of delight over the French peasants, and his accounts of parley-vooing, as he called it, with one old lady, were surely amusing. He was having about six weeks of intensive training, so he told us, but believe me it ' s both intensive and exten- sive (but especially more of the latter), ' he wrote. In the trenches he didn ' t write regularly, of course, but Kept a diary, which he called Bits ' here, ' ' there ' and ' everywhere. ' When any of his friends

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PACK TEN THE SASSAMON tell a lie. ' He, of course, cooled right off and told me how glad he was that I had told the truth. From that time on I re- solved never to tell a lie. As I grew up, I became the leader among my friends and could always excel them in most sports. Well I remember the day that I threw a stone across the Potomac, after all the other boys had tried in vain. When 1 was eleven years old, I had my first sorrow, that of the death of my father. Then I, being the oldest child, had to take over the responsibility of the plantation, and although everybody said it was impossible, I managed in some way to do it. I went to school with the rest of the boys, my mother intending to have me take my father ' s place as a plantation manager. However, I had my own desires and U- though my mother did dissuade me from going to sea, she did not manage to do so when I decided to take up surveying. I started this at the age of sixteen, and by the time I had reached twenty, I had be- come public surveyor of the neighborhood. Soon after this the French and Indian War broke out. Of course, I know you didn ' t come for that story, because it seems everyone knows it, so I will just say that because of the great amount of faith the men put in me, I was able to help quite a bit in bringing that to a successful close. After that was over, I married Martha Curtis, who was then a widow, with two children, and I settled down to live here, but not for long, because soon the Revo- lutionary War broke out. I was called to take command of the armies. I am going to omit the story of that war just as I did the French and Indian War, because in time of peace, war is a dreadful thing to talk about. As soon as that was over, I retired to private life, only to be called back as President of the country. At the end of four years I began another term, not because I wanted to, but because I felt it my duty at that time, when the French Revolution was going on and we were being asked to enter the fight. Wheii my second term was ended, I again retired to private life, only to be recalled to take command of the army, because of the dan- ger of war with France. However, this danger soon subsided and now I am here again, where I hope to spend my few re- maining years in peace and happiness. When he had finished teling me his story, he invited me into his house for refresh- ments. I might add that I never met Washing- ton again and that he did spend the rest of his life at Mount Vernon. In December of 1799, he was one day making his rounds cf the plantation when it was raining and he became wet through. He did not mind it, and the next day he did the same, even when he had a cold. That night he became sick and passed quietly away, after a forty- eight hours ' illness. E. B. HEINLEIN, ' 19. CAPTAIN JIMMY Jimmy was a young fellow, the son of rich parents and one of the best sports in town. He was an only child and because of that had been constantly petted, and denied very little. He was smart in his studies and had graduated with honors from the University of Pennsylvania. He had studied and fitted himself for a lawyer, but now that he was ready to prac- tice, he showed no intention or desire of doing so. His father was of the old school and a veteran of the War of ' 98. When Jimmy showed no desire to do any- thing useful, his father was surprised and ashamed that his son should be an idler. His mother, however, was a social figure of some prominence and thought that her son should be a shining light of the social world. Affairs had constantly been growing worse for some time, but still Jimmy con- tinued to idle away his time and his father ' s money. Many times his father had started to say something about it, but his wife had persuaded him to try Jimmy a lit- tle longer, so father did, although in his own mind he was beginning to be troubled. Things kept on this way until the Unite:!

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PAGE TWELVE THE SASSAMOX went out, he would simply say, Jim went ' west ' today, bad piece of shrapnel in the lungs, but then, he was one of the best, so he ' s all right and nothing to fear. We noticed that many of the other boys wrote the same way, death to them was merely an incident of the day — there was nothing to fear. That letter was the last he wrote and for a month after, nothing further was heard. One day we found his name in the casualty list, killed in action, it said, and a bit later came the official notification from the government. Nothing further was said, his part in the play was finished and we who were left worked harder than ever, feeling sure he would understand. MADELENE CLOUGH, ' 21. A FEARFUL FORD FABLE John White had an ancient collection of nuts, bolts, old iron, tin cans and spools, known to the public as a fliver, but called by him a car. One day it stood outside his variety store, for several hours, look- ing as innocent as only a junk heap can look. Finally John came out and after adjusting his spark and gas tried to crank her. Spin number one! No result. Two! The same. Three! chug! chug! bang! the rattling good car after knocking him over, roamed leisurely over the prostrate form of one John White. The brake, which was held in place by a rubber band, had slipped and thrown ' er inta high. Lizzy casually rounded the corner by the Natick Trust Company and turned safely into Main Street. An old ' dilapi- tated horse, attached to a bright, new wa- gon, was coming down the street at a jei ' ky trot that spoke of spavin and other equine ailments. When the horse saw Lizzy charging around the corner and heard her rapid fire reports, he gave one youthful leap into the air, turned sharply around, and galloped down the street like an un- broken colt. Still Lizzy advanced, now staggering like a drunken man, now charg- ing like a tank. When she came to the trolley track she gave a little leap, turned around and landed squarely on the track, heading straight for Wellesley. At the Natick Armory she met an electric car. The motorman, with unusual intelligence, had just enough presence of mind to shut off power and reverse. A strange, inverted, chugging, gasping race began ; Lizzy made short charges and then fell back, always keeping within about fifteen feet of the car. At Wellesley College she sickened of the chase and jumped the track. After terrifying all the girls at the Quadrangle, she set out at a round pace for home. Ar- riving without further adventures, she stopped obediently in front of her master ' s store. She waited there a moment and then without warning, after her mad exer- tions, blew up and scattered her remains about the state. If you don ' t believe this story ask John White, or better yet, hire a horse and buggy (they don ' t allow automobiles in this town any longer), and scour the neighboring villages. May be you ' ll find enough parts to build a new Fliver. G. DOW, ' 20. TIM WENT STRAIGHT HOME It was a cold November night when Tim was standing on a corner selling his last paper. After it was sold he started to go to what he called home. No, he hadn ' t made much money that day. Only a doughnut and a cup of coffee for me tonight, said Tim, as he walk ;d along. Hey there, boy, hold my norse a min- ute, called a man as he jumped from the horse. Tim waited and waited for the man to return. Forty-five minutes passed be- fore the said gentleman hurried from the house he had entered. Thanks boy, here ' s something for you, called the man as he tossed a coin to Jim. He hurried to the street light so as to see what his prize was. Twenty-five cents! Gee what a lot! said he, as the coin shone in his hand, Some hot beans will go with my supper. As Tim hurried toward the bakery his attention was arrested by two boys stand-