Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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ALUMNI I CAME— I C A W I CONQUERED— Harriet Elliot Sanders of February ’33 Describes Her Mediterranean Cruise EARS and handkerchiefs—excitement—expectancy—all sorts of funny feelings surging through one poor body as the band struck up and the “Saturnia” left the pier. One last glimpse of my family and friends. By late afternoon we were well at sea. No more land for days to come. A deplorable appetite ... new acquaintances .. just living from day to day with no cares or worries except that I might awaken from a glorious dream. After a week of the majestic, friendly ocean we arrived in Gibraltar—at daybreak. I wanted to dress and go up on deck, yet I hated to leave the port hole for fear of missing something. The great rock loomed up from the dark water, the top hidden in misty clouds. Gradually the sun grew brighter and by the time we started ashore, it had all taken on a different aspect. In the four hours there we saw some of the most important and interesting places as well as having a chance to poke about in numerous shops. Time always passes too quickly, but as there was more in store for us, we returned to the ship without misgivings. Off again... Algiers the next morning. Merchants, in turbans or fezzes, wooden shoes or barefeet, rowed out to the boat with their wares, all ready to contend with tourists determined to buy everything for nothing. Two boys swam out and dived for coins passengers threw down to them. From the harbor one would never suspect just how busy the city really is... horses and wagons clat- tering along the streets ... little cars zig-zagging through a maze of traffic, steering clear of pedestrians who pay no attention to the vehicles.. new

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THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST DUKE [Continued from page 9] “Well, sir,” replied the butler, leading the way. “If I might venture to say, sir, in all respect to ’is Lordship, sir, ’e sometimes h’is subjected to sloight h’attacks of lethargy, whereupon ’e remains in h’a stupor h’until someone wakes ’im. H’it’s a disease ’e got h’in the Tropics, sir, but I don’t believe this mental h’inadequacy made ’im disappear. H’it daon’t stand to reason, sir.” “Quite,” said Wolmes. “Is this the cellar?” By now we had reached the lowest floor in the house, and John conducted us along a dimly lit hall to a little, dusty door near the end. After it was unlocked, we stooped and entered the murky gloom of the wine closet. It was the usual damp affair, such as you see in any castle, with its rows of stained casks covered with cobwebs. “H’it’s just as I said, sir. ’E daon’t ’tseem to be ’ere,” said the butler, triumphantly. “Quite so, quite so, but what is that queer gurgling noise over in the corner, John?” “That’s the main water pipe, sir. H’it supplies water for all the commod- ities in the manor, sir.” “And who’d be using water at this time?” “Why, I cahn’t say, sir. The servants moight be doing the laundering, sir, but they usually does h’it on Saturday morning, sir,—” But suddenly Wolmes burst out excitedly, “Of course,—of course. I have it! Quick, Hotson. Follow me up stairs and run as you’ve never run before, if you ever want to save his life!” And away he ran, and I followed him as soon as I could recover from my surprise. “Hurry, Hotson, hurry!” I heard him cry, as he rounded a bend in the stair case. I found him in the hall on the top floor feverishly opening all the doors. “I sye there, Wolmes,” I called. “Wot are you doing thet for? You cahn’t do thet. Really, ole chappie, it just isn’t done.” “Quick, Hotson,” he urged. “Help me find a locked door. We may not yet be too late.” “Come, come, old chap,” I soothed, “Let’s go down to the study and I’ll get you a cool drink of—” “Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed triumphantly, as he rattled the knob of a door near the Duke’s bedroom. “Here, Hotson. Come and help me break it down.” Bewildered, I sprang forward to assist him, when the voice of the portly butler, who had just arrived, gasped, “Blimey, but you mustn’t do that. H’it’s’s Lordship’s private bathroom.” “Exactly,” said Wolmes. “Now, all together, one—two—three-push!” It took three such shoves to smash the heavy oaken door down. Then it [Continued on page 22]

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buildings going up everywhere.. Arab men and women in their pictur- esque though disreputable dress, marketing and gossipping—especially in the Kasbah quarters, the old Arab town. After Algiers, only two more days to Italy. Sunny Italy? It was pouring when we left the ship at Naples and continued to rain as we drove up to Rome. We sped along a broad, straight highway, occasionally slowing down for a flock of impertinent little goats to be herded off the road. Fields spread out on both sides as far as eye could see—all under cultiva- tion—women and children busily engaged in hoeing. Now and then an olive grove—little white sheep browsing beneath it tended by a dog and a shepherd protected from the drizzle by a huge, green cotton umbrella. Terraced vineyards displayed a wealth of autumnal colors. Nubbly hills were silhouetted in the distance, topped by ruins of old Roman towns—and in the fields below, crumbling remains of old watch towers. So much to see and not half enough eyes to see with! Peasant houses of pale blue, white or Pompeii red, each with its own little shrine.. red peppers strung across balconies to dry... faggots kept in crotches of trees and resembling im- mense birds’ nests ... women washing clothes in muddy streams ... others their washing completed, carrying it in baskets on their heads back to the road where it was spread on bushes in an attempt to dry. Gayly painted carts filled with vegetables drawn by donkeys to market.. a group of men and women, the former astride little beasts, the latter laden with heavy baskets tagging along behind on foot, sometimes a child or two tucked under their arms. Women—the backbone of the peasant class!!! The rain changed to a fine mist for about an hour in the afternoon. A double rainbow appeared and seemed to come right down to the ground before us... The end of the rainbow? I like to think so .. and of Italy as the pot of gold. Then the Eternal City. Our first few days there were beautiful with sunshine ... green foliage . .bright flowers ... fountains sparkling in the sunlight. It was so warm during the morning and early afternoon one was uncomfortable in a coat. This didn’t last long. The rain began again— weeks and weeks of it. But Rome was still the same. The Vatican, St. Peter’s, the Coliseum, the Fora, the Capitoline, the Palatine—even more marvelous than I had dreamed .. the Catacombs fascinatingly grue- some .. art galleries, statuary .. all so expressive of life, customs, history— all so awe inspiring!! I was so excited about seeing these ancient places until I arrived. Then they seemed unapproachable. I felt so apologetic for having entered them, and then—afraid to talk, afraid even to think—could only wonder and marvel. I’m still wondering and marvelling. As Alice-in-Wonderland said, “It all seems curiouser and curiouser.” Have I really been there?