Southold High School - Snuffbox Yearbook (Southold, NY)

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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

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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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before the old lady returned to roll under a lounge on the opposite side of the room. Then I must have “gone out” for awhile, but when I came to I saw the wire springs over me, and remembered where I was. The shock of this realization gave me such a fright that it scared a perfectly good $15 wave out of my hair. Then I saw a face peering over the side of the bed, and got such a fright from that that I felt as if I lost about fifteen pounds'(Alas, I later found this not to be the case. If anything—oh, well, two or three pounds extra wouldn’t be noticed among so many.) I was ready to scream, but something in the face made me hold my tongue. Slowly those curls turned to black hair, the cap disappeared, eyes came into the holes in the old lady’s face, and the glasses seemed to break and scatter about in freckles. Then my sister spoke—“Say, you nut, get out from under that bed and unwind that sheet from around your legs. Don’t you suppose I want any bed cloths?” I never eat cheese any more before I go to bed, nor do I see a Flivver without privately wishing it were in the river. H. T. THE UNRECOVERED TREASURE It was in the little town of Sh—just outside of London that I met a queer character, Henry Greene by name. Being forced to stay in the town over night I accidentally found lodging in Henry Greene’s home. It was on that night, sitting in front of his fireplace with its red coals throwing out their comfortable heat and his pipe in his mouth that he told me the story of his life. “Fifty years ago when buccaneers were considered gentlemen, I owned the fastest four-masted sloop that - ever flew a flag. The work was getting mighty dangerous, and having had a most successful year, I decided that with one more haul I would put to port and settle down to a life of ease. “It is concerning this last holdup that I want to tell you. It was the morning of January 3, 17—. The air was cold and damp. A heavy fog was upon us and there were signs of an impending storm. As we raced through the fog I was wondering how long it would be before we would sight a vessel carrying a sufficient supply of gold or silver to warrant our capturing it. It was while I was thus dreaming that the form of a large ship loomed up on our larboard side. It was Page Sixteen