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

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fflrummrth High rhuol He gathered her in his arms, and rushed to the rail. The last boat had been lowered. Frantically he yelled after it but it was too late. Margaret gained consciousness, and he threw a life-belt over her shoulders, then one over his own, and arms enfolded they jumped into the icy darkness of the hungry sea. All night long they fought death. One by one tiny saw their companions sink below the surface. Still, grimly they fought on. Toward morning they found a piece of driftwood large enough to support their two bodies. Then, from the remains of the ship fell a beam. Margaret saw it coming, and tried vainly to pull John to safety. It was of no use. It struck him between the shoulders, and car- ried him quickly to thej bottom. He had loosened his hold on Margaret, but falling into a dead faint, she collapsed completely, and, as her strained fingers slowly loosened their grip on the plank, she slid slowly, quiet- ly into the water, to join once again her faith- ful lover. Helen Jones ' 32 A Good Time A good time is as pleasant as the person enjoying it wishes it to be. Some people enjoy themselves immensely by plodding through swamps and under- growth with guns over their shoulders, and, upon returning to camp, by eating burnt ba- con and soggy, half-baked potatoes. To others a smashing game of football is the life. To go into a football game and get bruised and kicked, stepped on and cut, and then to return home, battered and tired, but happy, is great fun. Some people I know will get up at two o ' clock in the morning to fish for distance on the radio, and thereby gain great satisfac- tion and pleasure. There are many who spend their spare time in reading all available books. Some are movie fans, and these sit through evenings in a stuffy theatre, while some one at the left giggles at the wrong time, and on the right someone else is chewing ing gum, noisily. This shows that, regardless of any accom- panying difficulties, people will have a good time according to their likes and dislikes. C. Parsons —13 Concerning My Christmas Emotions I wonder how many of you feel the way I do about Christmas. Perhaps I ' m getting too personal ; but, just the same, I ' m going to tell you all about my kind of Christmas spirit. I have always believed that it is more blessed to give than to receive. ' ' Why, I don ' t know of anything in this world that makes me more happy than buying Christmas presents, espe- cially when I know that I have woi ked hard for the money I spend. I shouldn ' t want to buy Christmas presents if I knew I hadn ' t earned the money, for such presents would not be my own gifts. In others words, I should be a pretender and my gifts would be false. What sacrifices would I be making in a case like that? It ' s just the fact that I know I ' m doing without things I need that gives me that certain satisfied smile that never fails to twitch about the c orners of my mouth round Christmas time. Yet there ' s one thing that repays me, always repays me, for my hard work and sacrificing ; that thing is the sight of Mother ' s face on Christmas morn- ing. I ' ve never yet failed to see sweet tears of gratitude in her eyes. It ' s the same with your mother, with everybody ' s mother. Even if it were some silly, little trifling thing from the Five and Ten, I know and you know that she would love it. Expensive presents — what do they mean to loving mothers and true friends? Not a thing. I don ' t ever want to feel that I ' m giving someone a Christmas present because I know she expects it. To be very colloquial, I shouldn ' t get any kick out of that. I ' m certain that I ' m not the only one who feels this way ; that ' s why I ' ve taken the liberty of expressing my Christmas emo- tions so openly to you. Ola Jean Taylor ' 31 A Woman ' s Strength They don ' t give girls credit for endurance, And they say that they lack strong assur- ance — But let me say this : There isn ' t a miss That cares what the weather does to her toes, As long as there isn ' t a shine on her nose. Viola Goldsworthy ' 31

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12 (Chrtatmaa SUfUrtor Destiny Margaret Pendleton ran breathlessly up the gangplank, and paused only a few min- utes at the rail to wave good-bye to her friends before going to her stateroom. She had hardly reached the rail before the whistle blew for the last time, and the boat pushed off for America. For America,. How wonderful that sounded after four years away from home ! Of course she ' d miss the girls at the academy, but then — to be going home! With a happy sigh, she ran joyfully to find her room. Margaret shared her stateroom with an ac- quaintance, Mary Cronnan, a young girl of her own age whom she had met in London, and who also was on her way home after study- ing in that city. The girls became fond of each other, and were usually together. The evening proved to be gay as the girls dressed for dinner, and later went into the social salon to listen to the orchestra. A group of boisterous, laughing, happy young people, rushed to meet them, and carried them off to a far table. After a while, Margaret, unlike Mary, tired of the chattering and joking, wished that times were not quite so modern, and that a handsome, young prince would come to her rescue. A young man at the other end of the room, detaching himself from a group, walked across to her table. He was not a prince, and could scarcely be called hand- some, but he was young and gentlemanly, and a way by which she could leave the crowd ; so when he stood before her and asked : ' ' Would you care to take a turn on deck ? ' ' she answ T ered simply: Let ' s! Unnoticed by the rest of the group, she arose, and they went out into the cold, night air. After the second turn, they met Mary, with an escort, who had come in search of them. John, she cried at sight of them, how did you know her? Why, I told you I ' d know her anywhere. How could I help it after that description you gave me in London ? ' ' He turned to Margaret. You see, Cousin Mary told me all about you after she made your acquaintance. She was so enthusiastic in describing you, T knew I ' d know you in a minute! I didn ' t know that you and Mary were on this boat, but when I saw you through the crowd looking so bored, I just had to come over although we hadn ' t been properly introduced. You understand? Yes was all she said, but she might have added that she had already known him, having been introduced at a tea when she had first come over. Everyone knew that she had changed greatly since then; so it was little wonder that he had forgotten it. The following days were happy ones and full ones. When they weren ' t playing shufiie- board, they were playing ping-pong. In tt e evening they danced or walked, and all the while their friendship increased. Then came the night when John told her he loved her. Somehow she had always known it, but it was rather wonderful to hear it from his own lips. Absorbed as they were in their new-found happiness, they were unconscious of the changing in the weather. A heavy fog had en- veloped the ship. Suddenly, from seemingly nowhere, a huge gray wall loomed up like some destructive giant of old. There was a crash, and the ship ran straight into another ocean steamer. People were thrown to the floor. In the mad rush that followed John and Margaret were sepai ' ated. Women screamed. Men yelled. The captain shouted orders. The life boats were lowered, and there was a mad scramble of a terror-stricken mob for them. ' ' Women and children first ! Here, you lub- ber, get back there! Boat after boat was lowered. The crowd on deck seemed hardly to diminish, and the ship was sinking fast. Men, bellowed the captain over the roar of the sea, you ' ll have to take the life- belts and jump, and pray that you ' ll be picked up. This is the last boat, and there ' s still a dozen women left. God be with you! Margaret ran back and forth through the fighting mass of men. John! John! Oh, God help me to find him, she prayed. At last she saw him, and fighting her way to him, threw her arms about his neck. My dear, my dear, at last! she sobbed and fainted.

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14 (EhrtHtmaH RrfUrtor Now Won ' t You Study? John Doe had just reached the Gates of Heaven, but, having lost his identification card, stood at a loss when Old Saint Peter requested him to present it. John D. — Honest, Saint Peter, I did have an admittance slip. Saint P. — I ' m sorry John, but I ' m not allowed to permit anyone to enter these gates unless he has an identification card. John D.— Oh, mercy, Saint Peter! The wind was so strong as I was coming up that the card blew away. Don ' t tell me — Saint Peter, spare me this much. I got hit by an auto, so that I might come here. Oh, I beg of you ! Don ' t say that I must return. ' ' Saint P. — No, there is one chance. I shall question you, and if you answer pleasingly and truthfully to me, I think I can secure your admittance. John D. — Oh, thank you, sir. Saint P. — ' ' Did you ever make an inexcus- able error in English, such as a comma- splice? John D. (shamefacedly) — Yes, Saint Peter, I fear I did, way back in my school days. ' ' Saint P. — That, of course, will diminish your chance of admittance, but there is still hope, John, though I am deeply grieved at your carelessness. Did you ever hand in a composition with the adverb ' very ' in it? John D. — Truly, Saint, I did once in a careless moment. Saint P. — Bad, bad, careless again, but there is yet another chance. Of course you never failed in English. John D. — You must listen to me, Saint Peter. I got H in Science, and how I did shine in German. Now what of it if I did get an F once or twice in English? Saint P. — O John, you do not realize the importance of this beautiful language, which the angels speak. When a soul comes here who knows English, we realize he must indeed be fit for heaven, having taken an in- terest in this subject. John D. — But remember, I attended a school which accepted nothing but one ' s best, and I did not have time to do my best. ' ' Saint P.— What was this school you at- tended? John D. — Weymouth High School, and I studied English under the renowned Pro- fessor Brown. Saint P.— Oh, Weymouth High School! Then the gates are open to you. Surely if you attended such a school, I need question you no further, for you must know our beau- tiful language thoroughly. Enter ! ' ' Archie MacKean ' 31 The Lone River The Lone River begins away up in the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, where it is fed with melting snows and torrents of rain. It winds its course over glens and around huge boulders that stand in its way now, as they have done for thousands of years. With its ceaseless flowing, it has dug itself a bed which gets deeper and deeper, and winds about, forming queerly-shaped figures as it goes. Some distance from its source it separates from the rest of its tributaries and goes on in silence, which is broken only by the swish and gurgling of the water lapping gently against the obstacles that lie in its path. It has been many years since a craft of any kind has been on this river, and those that were once there belonged to the Indian. But the Indian has long ceased to paddle his canoe here as he holds a dread of the river. So Lone River winds its solitary way down the mountains and on to the great sea be- yond. Archie Craig ' 34 Christmas Voices Over hills and over plains Clash a thousand bells ; Each the same great truth proclaims; Each the story tells — Old, old story, ever new, Wondrous story, ever true. Shepherds watching once by night, Watching long ago, Heard a seraph choir bright Murmur soft and murmur low, Good will and love, love and good will! Then angels spoke, and all was still. Alice Blanchard ' 33