Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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in (ThrtctmaB Urfif rtor most fearsome of snakes in all of India. It was at least 15 feet long, and had the thickness of a man ' s arm. It was a specimen of snake now almost extinct — the Hamadryad. There was no known antidote for its poison. The poor littie dog had sensed that something was threatening, and had gone to investigate. He must have put up a gallant fight against the giant reptile, but was out-classed from the start. For his loyalty to his master, he had received death ! Telling the Sahib was the hardest thing which I had ever undertaken. The Sahib took the news quietly. I left him alone with the remains of his faithful dog un- til he called for me. His face had aged in those ten minutes, and his eyes were glassy. Sahib, I stumbled, I am so sorry for you. It was all my fault — No, he replied, laying his hand on my shoulder, you have just proved to me that there is loyalty in this world that will last even to death! Then he smiled, this brave Sahib, and handed me something. I could not at first make out what it was because of the moisture clouding my eyes. Then, my vision clearing, I recognized— the little jew- eled collar. But, Sahib, I protested, you must keep that to remember your little dog. ' ' Gripping my arms tightly, he said quiet- ly, Do you think that I shall ever forget? I need nothing to remember him. I shall al- ways carry his picture in my heart. He then forced the collar into my hands and strode away. He did not wait for me, but shouldered his pack and plunged into the jungle. Although I hunted for hours, I could find no trace of him. To this day, I do not know whether the Sahib who loved a little white dog ever reached civilization. As the Hindu finished, Jean was sobbing audibly, and the other children were mak- ing suspicious little noises. Getting up from his chair, the old Hindu noiselessly went over to a cabinet, took something out, and returned to his seat. The children gazed at a jewel- studded dog ' s collar, greatly dimmed with age. The fire crackled and the wind moaned outside the eaves; but all was silent in the cottage. Doris Monks ' 33 Introducing Sam Roan ' s Toy Shop was one of the busiest shops in town, so Jerry Anderson thought, as she swiftly made change, wrapped toys in bright paper, and waited on new customers. The rush and bustle at Christmas time always made Jerry happy; and a pleasant smile went with every sale that she made. One afternoon, as Jerry was preparing to close the store for the night, she saw a group of small boys going down the street. On a second glance, she recognized one and called loudly to him: Sam, Sam, come back here and wait for me. It is almost closing time now. Then she turned to wait on a customer. Looking up a few minutes later, she saw Sam sitting on a stool waiting for her. Later, she and Sam made their way through the door to the snow-laden street. I beg your pardon, a kind looking Santa who was in front of the store said, but did I hear you call me a few minutes ago ? ' ' Why-er-no, answered a puzzled Jerry, you must be mistaken. I was calling Sam, my little brother, a few moments ago. Oh, my name is Sam too. Well, I must say that is too bad, I was hoping that some- body would need my company and call to me sometime. It would be a mistake, he said. ' ' Maybe you won ' t be disappointed. ' ' And then she whispered, so that little Sam could not hear, You take off that outfit and I ' ll wait for you here, so that we can introduce ourselves. You must hurry, though. A few minutes later he was with them, but not as Santa this time. After the introductions were over, he walked home with them. In the days that followed Sam was a fre- quent visitor at the Anderson home. One bright day little Sam was sitting near big Sam when suddenly he said : ' ' Say, Sam, what ever became of the Santa that we met in front of the store that night ? ' ' Oh, that Santa ju mped in his sleigh and rode up to the north pole, after he met you and Jerry. He sure was a nice Santa, answered Sam. I bet he was, agreed big Sam with a sly smile. Maryellen Morse ' 33

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(ShrtBlimiH Srflrrtnr Ganga The cold, frosty air forbade any fun that evening for the boys and girls of Cripple Creek. Jean echoed the sentiments of the en- tire company by remarking in a decidedly hopeless tone, There ' s nothing interesting here nowadays. This village is the dullest place ! But Bob, the youngest of the party thought of a daring plan. Why not, he suggested, ' ' go over and visit old Ganga ? ' ' Ganga was the nickname that had been given the old Hindu who had come to Cripple- Creek such a long time ago — cold, hungry, and penniless. He had been taken care of by the kind villagers. In return for their kindness, he had proved himself of great value in the matter of weaving mats and rugs. His queer, eccentric designs held a cer- tain fascination for the simple Creek-people, and they paid him well for his wares. Gradually the more ambitious folks had wormed out of him part of his life history. He was a real Hindu, born in that beautiful and primitive city of Calcutta. His parents w ere of high caste, but had met reverses, and died in poverty. Before ill-luck overtook them, their love of progress showed itself in the education of their only son. He had been educated at Oxford, and returned to his home to find his parents dying of a terrible plague that had been sweeping the city. After they had gone, he gave the little money left him to his relatives, who were terribly in need of funds. Then, broken-hearted and desperate, he had left the city. A mule was his only companion through the hills and tangled forests. Everything went smoothly, as he was an experienced tracker, and knew how to avoid the wild animals and snakes which were so common at that time. But, just as he caught sight of the city where he planned to start his life over again, he was attacked by several wandering dacoits, or bandits. They beat him and left him sup- posedly dead, carrying away all his belong- ings. After being unconscious for two days, he recovered. His mind, however, was a com- plete void. He wandered about from place to place for about a year, when he recovered his mind quite by accident. It was then that his natural Oriental superstition gripped his mind, and forced him to the conclusion that he was destined by Allah to be a wanderer all the rest of his Life. He traveled Europe on foot ; sometimes in plenty, and more often in want. So he had come to England, and found a home among the folks of Cripple Creek. On the night of which I have spoken he was unusually despondent, and welcomed the knock which summoned him to the door. Opening it, his surprised eyes rested on six eager little faces upturned to his. Please, sir, we want a story ; that is — I — we — ' ' stam- mered Bob. Come in, children. You will be frozen, bowed the old Hindu. They came gladly. Then, after making their wants known more clearly, and having gained the Indian ' s consent, they sat in a semicircle before the fire. His old face transfigured by the light of memory, the Indian began his story. At one time I was acting as guide for an Englishman, who wished to explore a cer- tain territory for byon, a ruby-bearing soil. He was a very brave and venturesome man who I do believe did not know the word fear. But one strange thing was that he insisted on bringing with him, as a mascot, I think he said, a small white puppy. I did not particu- larly care for dogs, but to please the Sahib, I determined to like this one. On the dog ' s neck was a beautiful collar studded with rubies and pearls. That we did not meet any dacoits, fortun- ately, all of the way up-country gave us great heart, indeed. The Sahib and I prospected for rubies, and met with great success. We packed them in iron-bound chests, and prepared to go back to the town from which we had come, where the Sahib would board a steamer for England. Everything being prepared for our departure, we took a last look at the beautiful hills surrounding us. Then, glancing down, I noticed that the puppy was not in his usual place at his master ' s feet. Some vague in- stinct warned me that something was wrong. I strode over to our neatly piled packs, turned the corner, and then recoiled in horror. Swol- was the little white dog, and just disappear- len so that he could scarcely be recognized, ing into the jungle was one of the worst, and

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11 Christmas From the early centuries of Christianity, people have celebrated the anniversary of Christ ' s birth with special church services and festivals. The English, in early times, called these services Christes messe, mean- ing Christ ' s mass. This is the way we ob- tained our word Christmas. At first the date of the celebration varied in different places. The Armenians still hold their celebration on January 6. The reason for establishing the festival on December 25 was that this day marked the beginning of the great solstice festival of the pagan Gauls, Germans, and Britons. As in other instances when Christian festivals replaced pagan, many of the pagan symbols are kept. Good examples of this are the yule log, holly, and mistletoe. Christmas became a popular fete during the middle ages. Even at that time, they decorated their churches with flowers and gave short plays relating to the birth of Jesus. The English were the greatest celebrators of this day. In Shakespeare ' s time the fes- tivities lasted for twelve days. Everyone left his work to give himself up to enjoyment dur- ing this time. During the regime of the Puritans, all merriment on Christmas day was prohibited. After the Restoration some of these customs, much subdued, came into effect again. The Dutch settlers of New York brought across the ocean the joyous custom of ob- serving Christmas with merriment. We owe the origin of our Santa Claus to them also. Today the observance of Christmas is wide- spread. In both England and America the lit- tle children hang up their stockings in a row before the fireplace, and Santa Claus, we are told, with a big pack of toys, comes to fill the little stockings. In some of the Baltic States, Kris Kringle, the Christ Child, brings the presents. In France the children place wooden shoes on the hearth in readiness for the gifts, which Bonhomme Noel (Father Christ- mas) brings. The Norwegian children hunt gaily for their toys, which have been hidden in different places. In Italy the presents are drawn from the Urn of Fate — an old Roman custom. Every land has its own Christmas Carols and way of singing them. In England waits sing under the windows. In the United States some boys and girls often go about singing carols to shut-ins or unfortu- nates. The Christmas tree with its pretty orna- ments and lights, which is closely connected with the celebration, appeared first along the Rhine sometime in the sixteenth century. Our practice of preparing a birds ' Christ- mas tree with choice bits of suet, apple, nuts, and seeds, originated from the Scandinavian custom of placing a sheaf of grain in the dooryard, on a tall pole for the birds on Christmas morning. The elaborate street festivals of Italy and Spain are replaced in the United States by the Community Tree. It is a custom for a large crowd to gather around the tree and sing the familiar carols. Hazel Morrison ' 31 Our First Snowstorm One night as it was getting dark, I went riding down to Nantasket Beach. The clouds were hanging low over sea and land, and the white capped waves were beating high on the shore. Upon the rocks, which are far over on the right side of the beach, the waves were breaking. In the distance Boston Light could be plainly seen flashing every few minutes. The huge schooner Nancy made a dismal and lonely outline against the black sky. All of a sudden, the street lights at Pem- berton were hidden from view, as if they had been put out, and Boston Light and the other lighthouses far out could be just barely seen through the distance. I never saw the ocean look greener than it did at that time. We saw what we thought was a thick fog rolling in from the ocean. It spread over Pemberton and Hull, and was rapidly approaching in our direction. It was upon us in no time, but it was not fog as we soon found out — it was rapidly, and the wind was blowing them in all snow. The large flakes were coming down directions. But, after about fifteen minutes, the snow stopped, as quickly as it had started and the wind calmed down. We could see Boston Light, now flashing as brightly as ever. The low clouds disappeared revealing the moon and a sky full of stars. There was no evidence left of the storm except the little piles of snow that the wind had blown intc sheltered places. Margaret Young ' 31