Southold High School - Snuffbox Yearbook (Southold, NY)

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In their half of the inning the Benton “Sluggers” were unable to score, and the game ended 6-5. On the way home Carrots was exceedingly happy. It had been a wonderful day, and he was to have more like it in his new capacity as first substitute on the “All Stars.” R. B. Mrs. Newbury had just come to Brinton. Her husband had been lost at sea a fewr weeks ago and, seeing that he had been dead so short a time she was remarkably calm and composed. The fact is that her husband while living had been rather a —that is she was very much afraid of him. But to continue: she had come to this place to buy a house. She had bought one, moved in and on this, the first night she was to stay there, was all settled. Thinking to go over the house once more before retiring she had just come into the parlor and was gazing at her husband’s portrait which hung over the mantle piece, when she perceived one of the eyes of the portrait move. So strange a circumstance, as you may well suppose, gave her a sudden shock. To assure herself cautiously of the fact, she put one hand to her forehead, as if rubbing it, peeped through her fingers and moved the candle with the other hand. The light of the taper gleamed on the eye and was reflected from it. She was sure it moved. Nay, move, it seemed to give her a wink, as she had sometimes known her husband to do when living! It struck a momentary chill to her heart; for she was a lone woman and she felt herself fearfully situated. However, she decided to be brave and once more held the candle up with trembling hands. She was positive that that eye moved! Then she heard a faint noise. “He’ll be coming out of the picture next,” she thought. And sure enough. She heard a fearful grating and scratching and then his head came through. She was so overcome with fright that upon this she fainted away, and no wonder! After the head came the body and finally he was all out. He calmly brushed himself off and walked over to the door. He was a small grey mouse, which is enough to make any sensible woman faint. R. G. Page Fourteen

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first half of the fifth the “All Stars” went on a batting streak and three runs were scored before the side was retired. Not to be out-done, the “Sluggers” sent two men across “home” in their half of the inning. Also in the following inning the Benton team scored two runs, holding the “Stars” without a further tally. When this happened, Carrots nearly went wild with excitement and dismay. He implored Brown and his men to, “come through and beat this bunch of farmers.” But thus the score stood, 4-3, until the eighth inning, when the Benton team added another mark to their credit. It was in this inning there happened something that affected the team and their bat-boy a great deal more than the rest. With two out, a Benton man poled out a long fly to deep center. As the center-fielder caught the ball, he stumbled and turned his ankle, but retained the ball. He had to be assisted to the bench so great was the pain. The team returned to baseball. The ninth inning had begun and the last chance to win the game was at hand. Captain Brown was the first man up. He hit the first ball pitched for a clean single. The next boy up laid down a bunt, which the pitcher messed badly, allowing both men to gain their bases. Two men on base and no outs! A sacrifice hit advanced both men a base. A hit now would tie the score. A little pop fly was the best the batter could do. Two men out. The bright beginning did not look so good. “Batter up! Next man!” impatiently called the umpire. “Who’s up?” called Brown from third base. “What, Redmond? But he was hurt.” There was but one thing to do. It was Redmond, the center-fielder’s turn to bat and he was unable. Carrots must go to bat for him. It was with a sinking heart that the boy went to the plate. But when he faced the pitcher the nervousness vanished. It was his chance. He must make good for the team’s sake. The sub. had never before faced a real pitcher. He had played baseball since he could remember and had been the hero of more than one back-lot game. There was one kind of ball Carrots knew all about, the straight ball. It came over the heart of the plate. The boy felt the tingling impact of bat and ball. Like a rabbit he set out for first, nor did he stop there. When he neared third, he was motioned on with the accompanying cry, “Die, you Indian, and hit the dust.” The boy slid and felt the ball thump his back. He rolled over and gazed upward. The umpire motioned with a gesture that said all that the boy wished to know. He, Carrots, had made the winning run for his home team. Page Thirteen

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A WILD NIGHT I really didn’t know much about driving £ Ford, but when I found myself behind the wheel with the car going smoothly along. I decided that like poets, drivers are born and not made. At least I thought so until I hit that tree. But when, half an hour later, regained consciousness and looked around, I decided differently. The first thing that met my eye was the wall paper— elaborately decorated with cross-eyed birds who sat on limbs of prehistoric trees. (At least I guess they were prehistoric— they didn’t look natural.) As if the wall paper wasn’t bad enough, the curtains displayed a never ending procession of bow-legged bumblebees and bright yellow flowers. While I was trying to arise from the bed on which I had been placed, a door at the other end of the room opened, and in came a woman who fitted perfectly with her surroundings. Her clothes can better be imagined than described, and her face looked like the picture on a bottle of iodine, with the addition of iron gray corkscrew curls and a frilled white cap. Hmmm”—she said—“I guess you are come to what? I guess maybe I’ll keep you awhile and show you a girl’s place is home, and not driving no tin wagon without even a horse onto it:” When I say that I was too scared to answer, you will probably realize my condition. Anyway she yanked me to my feet and gave me some sewing to do—patchwork, too! Then she cleared a space in the middle of the room and went out, first taking back the sewing and tying my hands and feet with some white cloth that had been wrapped around me when I awoke. Then she left me, but soon returned and brought with her a coal shovel, butcher’s knife, can opener, saw, stove poker, and two pairs of scissors. These she spread in the place she had cleared, then, after being absent for a few minutes, returned with something in a glass. Into this she put a straw and told me to drink, but while she wasn’t looking, I quietly gave a stuffed canary bird, that was on a table nearby, a bath. Then I feigned sleep, for I felt that she had intended to put me to sleep with the liquid. Slowly she began to talk to herself. “I guess I’ll take her heart out first and boil it in a pint of laundry blue. Then she won’t ever want to drive a car.” With a chill I felt her touch my skin with the cold steel of the saw, but just as she would have cut into my flesh, she started up and declared she’d better prepare the laundry blue. Now came my chance. I rolled out of the chair, (for my hands and feet were still tied), and managed just a second Page Fifteen