Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE CHANGING YEAR THE END OF SUMMER There is a somber sadness in the going Of summer blossoms in the wind, In the music of the maple leaves blowing, In ranks of scarlet all too suddenly thinned. It is a time to pause, considering How swiftly beauty comes, how swiftly dies, With summer leaving but a memory of her: A late rose lonely in its dream Beside a lane where only grasses stir. And lingering at the edges of the day. A sunflower's dial that ticked the summer away. Curtis Higgins OCTOBER October is an artist gay, She may portray In any way, with clever brush. The golds and bright-reds of the sun - • The dew when morning has begun. She can most prettily adorn A lawn, of dignified estate Or poorly cottage lashed by Fate. In afternoons, her pictures rare May beautify scenery everywhere. The leaves that dance about at will Fly, and fly some more until The light winds turn colder And October’s days grow older. Then leaves of all abodes will stay Untouched in such a frozen way — November will be advancing. A. H. A RAINY DAY The countryside was wet and green, The rain was pouring down And making streams and riverlettes All through the quiet town. The children’s faces all were pressed Against the window panes And gazed with hopeful longing looks Along the rain-filled lanes. And when at last the rain made way, The long awaited sun With sparkling golden rays of light Seemed looking now for fun. Marjorie lladlock NOVEMBER November is the ending of the year. Its leaden clouds that shelter rain ana snow Grow thicker in the sky and hang so low They hide the sun and make the whole world drear. The barren trees, beside the waters clear, Whose leaves around their twisted trunks now blow. Proclaim a fact which we already know: That summer has departed with its cheer. But there are other days both crisp and cold On which the sun is bright and sends its rays To warm the earth and ev’ry human heart. We look ahead to winter winds so bold And to those sparkling, shortened winter days. November's not the ending, it’s the start. Charlotte Coates

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T te Cjolden After eating an early dinner, my friend and I informed our host of our plans. I had a feeling that this might happen”, he said. That is why I hesitated to tell you the story. But now that you are determined, perhaps I had better go with you to guide you as far as the chateau.” We assured him that we could manage it safely, but he said that he felt somewhat responsible for us and so he must go. At 6:30 P.M. we left our rooming house, climbed into the car, and headed for the house of mystery. Both M. LeSage and I carried a revolver and I had a flashlight. It was agreed that after we reached the house, our host would drive the car back to the village and should call for us at sunrise the next morn- ing at some appointed place. Our ride through the valley was uneventful as there was nothing but wheat fields on either side of the road, but as we neared the northern end, the coun- try became wooded and wild. At last we started up the road that led to the chateau. About a quarter of a mile from our destination we were advised by our guide to stop the car and proceed on foot, as the road ahead was impossible for a vehicle. We accepted his advice and he, after walking with us to where we could see the building in the distance, left us to face the mysteries of the night by ourselves. As we walked forward through the fading light, we could see forming be- fore us a mansion of enormous size. It was entirely of French style with many gables and huge windows. A flight of broad marble steps led up to the front entrance, which consisted of two high doors of exquisite French design. Even in the dilapidated and neglected condition, the building was a beautiful piece of architecture. M. Lesage and I walked around the house once to take in the surroundings. We found that it was bordered on all sides, except one, by woods, the fourth side being near the edge of the bluff. At last we decided to enter the house. Gaining the top of the marble steps, we slipped through the boards, pried loose five years before by the discoverers of Albert Dumont’s ghost. Inside it was as dark as a dungeon. I turned my flashlight and played it about the walls. We were in a long wide hallway with a wide staircase directly in front of us. To the left and right were doors leading to various rooms. We entered one of these and found that we were in a spacious dining room. A large mahogany table stood in the center of the room doing its best to stand on three legs. The other had fallen away. Broken pieces of chairs and bits of statuary lay scattered over the floor, and torn, cob- webbed curtains hung crazily over the windows. From this room we went from one to another, finding everything ruined and dilapidated. Finally after exploring everything except the cellar and attic, we chose the living room in which to await our ghost. Making ourselves as comfortable as possible in one corner of the room, we settled down for the night. (continued on page 28)

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lite Cjolden Rob EDITORIALS SPEAKING OF CONTESTS Now listen fella’s. This is the biggest contest of the year next Saturday. 1 know ya’ve got the stuff. Now get out there and show it. That’s in the gym. Then in a classroom: I can tell you right now that this course is no bed of roses. It’s going to be a contest from beginning to end and the best man wins. If you want a good mark, you’ve got to work for it.” You’re looking for a job and this is your prospective employer: I’ve got no room for loafers in this business. It’s work, work, work if you want to stay with me. You are reaching the time now when you have got to show the world your stuff : It’s going to be a contest from beginning to end” and the best one wins there too. Better start getting ready to fight now. BUY IN QUINCY Buy in Quincy! Buy in Quincy!” We suppose the students of Quincy High School are tired of that phrase. But this time we have good reason to say it again. A number of merchants (and there will undoubtedly be more) have promised us support in the way of ads in the Golden Rod and in other ways too if we can send some of the high-school trade to them. Now more ads in the Golden Rod mean more money that the staff can spend and the more we spend the better the magazine for you to read. So patronize Quincy stores and benefit yourself, your school, and your magazine. WANT A STADIUM? Quincy High School is on trial. The jury consists of the people of Quincy. The plaintiffs are the merchants of the same city. The charge is malicious destruction of property after the Brockton game. As it is, we haven’t got a chance with that jury. The sentence, if we are convicted, is to keep on going miles away to see our teams play and pay money into another school’s pockets. All hope of even getting our long-hoped-fot stadium is gone. Now, come on! If we want a football and track field, we’ve got to show we know how to use one. Let’s make ourselves an asset to the school rather than a liability.