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

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REFLECTOR 9 besides he could smell fresh blood. He was about to wheel and dash away when : Come, come, Bedouin, for God ' s sake, come here. There was no mistaking it. This was the man he had known, his friend, and he had found him. Bedouin came and soon Dan was smoothing his nose. Then coaxingly, he said, Now, Bedouin, we ' ll see if you remember your tricks. Down, sir, down. Kneel, Bedouin. Though his legs ached from the unfamiliar strain (for he hadn ' t done it for a long time), Bedouin knelt while Dan dragged himself along on the ground to his side. Easy, now, easy, boy. Steady, Bedouin, he said, and slowly crawled into the saddle. Then came the demand, Up, Bedouin, up. A horse ' s sense of direction is keen and Bed- ouin was no exception, for he got off the battle- field and on to the road that led — home. Dan helped him a bit in getting free of the confusion of the field, but his help wasn ' t for long. He kept his seat more through the force of muscu- lar habit than anything, for he hadn ' t control of all his senses and a man who has learned to sleep on horse-back doesn ' t fall off very easily. The next morning the people at Major Ham- ilton ' s estate were astounded to see Bedouin turn into the yard with the limp figure of a man in a blood-stained, dust-covered uniform on his back. The next year, when Colonel Dan was fully recovered from his wounds, he and Mary Jane were married. The Major gave them, among many other things, as a wedding gift, the dearly beloved Bedouin — one of the unsung heroes of the Revolution. S. Harper ' 32 The Black Cat The black cat has struck a hard blow at su- perstition. One of that color stowed away on the fishing schooner Fharbes lately. The crew called it bad luck and wanted to throw the cat overboard, but the captain refused. One day pussy climbed up the rigging into the crow ' s nest. The captain followed, to bring him down. Looking into the water from aloft, he saw a huge school of bluefish alongside. The dories were ordered out, and four hundred barrels of fish were taken. The black cat can make his home on board the Fharbes as long as he likes. Isabell Dacey ' 32 A iStone .Mountain About sixteen miles east of Atlanta, Georgia, there is a large block of granite which is known as the largest in the world. The rock is so large that the people of the South call it Stone Mountain. The rock is sixteen hundred feet high and it is seven miles around its base. From it the view is beautiful. A few years ago the Governor decided to have the figures of General Lee and his men chiseled out of the mountain. Among the Confederates were to be Stonewall Jackson and Jefferson Davis. The contract was signed, and the chis- elers started as soon as the blue prints were com- pleted. The figure of General Lee and his horse will be one hundred and fifty feet from the top of his head to his horse ' s hoofs. The figure will be about the size of a nineteen-story office build- ing. The rest are to be approximately the same height. The carvers state that it will take eight or nine years to complete it. Michael Striano ' 34 The Origin of Valentine s Day Valentine was the name of several saints and martyrs of the Christian Church. February 14 is the day observed for several of them. These martyrs lived in various parts of the world — France, Belgium, Spain, Africa. But the two greatest were a priest at Rome and a bishop at Umbria, both of whom lived in the third century. The legends which have been reserved for them have little historical value, for Valentine ' s Day is more famous as a lovers ' festival. This has no connection with the priests, but is perhaps the survival of an old festival of a similar na- ture. It was observed particularly in England, but to a certain extent upon the continent, too. Mention of it is found as early as Chaucer. The custom was to place the names of young men and women in a box, and draw out in pairs the names. Those whose names were drawn to- gether had to exchange presents and be each others valentines throughout the ensuing year. Later only the men made presents. M. Hunt ' 34 Page Five

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I REFLECTOR boys, though Bedouin didn ' t understand what the trouble was. Intelligent as he was, he couldn ' t be expected to know that the United Colonies had declared themselves independent of England and that Dan had gone away to serve as Colonel Morris in General Washington ' s army to help prove to England that the Colonies were independent. One day the stables were cleared of all the horses save two. Of course, Bedouin was one, for the Major loved and valued him too much to see him go to war as a cavalry horse, and the other, Cleve, the Major wouldn ' t let them take because of his age. In December, 1776, the entire region about Princeton was stirred up and worried, too, but the worry was short-lived. You must know that this was caused by Washington ' s retreat from New York through Princeton and Trenton across the Delaware. A few days before Christmas of the same year Major Hamilton was out exercising Bedouin, and saw one of his neighbors, a John Howard, accompanied by three British officers, cantering down the road ahead of him, turn in to How- ard ' s estate. Although he was somewhat puz- zled by what he had seen, because Howard was known to be rabid for colonial independence, any further thought (for the time) about it was ob- literated by the much more important and very welcome news of Washington ' s successful cam- paign in New Jersey, which culminated in a vic- tory at Princeton, a little more than ten miles away. As the war went on, so did Bedouin ' s life go on, but his life was quiet — totally unlike the war — until nearly two years after Washington ' s campaign in New Jersey. One day in June, 1778, the twenty-eighth, to be exact, a dusty and breathless man came running into the yard and up to Major Hamilton ' s house. When this man and the Major came into the stables, Bedouin recognized him as a frequent visitor at the Ham- ilton ' s, John Howard. He heard them mention his name and guessed that they wanted him. And right he was, for Sam unfastened the door of his stall and led Bedouin out. As soon as he was saddled and bridled, John Howard mounted. Remember, I ' m trusting you to take good care of him, Bedouin heard the Major tell Howard, and above all, get that message through to Lee. Don ' t use the curb too hard, and bring him back safe, John. With that they were off. How John Howard rode! Never in his life had Bedouin had such treatment. First dozens of needles pricked his ribs and when he reared to try to unseat his rider, vicious jerks on the curb cut his tender mouth and soon his sides ran with blood and his breast was plastered thick with reddened foam, but still John Howard stayed on. They rode for a long time and then Bedouin began to fret again, this time because of the crack-crack of the bullets and roaring of the cannons. They were nearing Monmouth. Straight for the army of red coats the traitor Howard rode, and there dismounted. Where ' s General Clinton? he asked an or- derly. Having received his directions, he hur- ried away, leaving Bedouin with the soldier. In a few minutes he was back again and rider and horse became a part of the moving mass of sol- diers, horses and artillery that was driving the Colonials before them. Bedouin was terror stricken — never before had he heard and seen these bullets and guns, but Howard kept him fjoing straight for the disordered ranks of the retreating army, using his spurs when Bedouin flinched at continuing, or cruelly jerking on the curb when he shied at some fallen figure. But suddenly these retreating soldiers were changed into an orderly army, and they turned about to give chase to the British. In the midst of the battle in which you know General Clinton and his red coats got away to the coast, Bedouin felt his rider slide off the saddle, and he was free — but where to go? All around him bullets were cracking and he rushed about blindly, seeking a way out of this din and confusion. Once he stopped to get his bearings, and it seemed that he heard a voice calling his name. It was faint — yet familiar, and looking about, he saw the figure of a man lying on the ground. Bedouin, come here, boy, come, this man said weakly. Bedouin hesitated and sniffed suspiciously. The man sounded like Dan, but how different this man looked from the man he had known, and Page Four

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WTiat College Didn ' t Do The house was overflowing with gladness; old Anne was making pies, bread, cakes, doughnuts, jelly tarts, and a hundred other delicious things; Jim was happy, and sho wed it as plainly as a po- lice dog can, when he is happy. Tim, the gar- dener, was sprucing up the already immacu- late grounds, and inside and outside the house, all was hustle and bustle. The cars were washed, the saddle horses rubbed till their coats were glossier than ever. And why? The young master was coming home. It was the last of June, and Sidford Edwards, Jr., was coming home from college to spend the summer. Last year he had stopped off on his way to Larry Borne ' s camp in New York, but this year he was coming home, and everyone was happy. The house was filled with gladness. Sid Edwards was coming home! There was but one person who seemed sorry and depressed. He was in the large, book-lined library at his thinking, reading over and over again a letter, and then pausing to think some more. It was Sid ' s father, and it was because he loved his son that Mr. Edwards dreaded to see his son return. It pained him, for he knew that the long-dreaded understanding between Sid and himself must come soon after the arrival of his boy. He was thinking of Sid as a young boy of fif- teen. Then again of him as he had been at prep school, at eighteen, and now a junior in college at twenty-one. He came back from the land of thoughts, and looked again at the letter which was the cause of his sadness. It was from his son ' s college — a short, straight-to-the-point let- ter: Mr. Sidford Edwards, Sr., The Manors, Standish, Connecticut. Dear Sir: The College begs to inform you that your son, Sidford, has failed in two major subjects this year, and if he returns, must repeat the course. We are sorry to inform you that this failure in Greek and mathematics is owing to his ex- traordinary love for journalism and English lit- erature; he has neglected his important subjects for a more than necessary study of these. Will you please advise us as to the arrange- ments you wish us to make about this matter? Yours very truly, J. H. Thorne, Dean of College. So, as in his prep school days, yes, even his childhood, Sid ' s love for journalism had caused his failure in more important subjects. He would have it out with Sid once and for all. Just because his father owned half of Standish and was a success was no reason that the boy could stay in college forever and just play at newspaper work. Bah ! Who had ever heard of an Edwards working for the narrow-minded editor of some small town newspaper? Yes, he would have it out with the boy, and soon at that. It was that night after dinner, after Sid had greeted the family and done more than polite justice to Anne ' s cooking, that his father asked him to come to the library. When Sid entered the library, he noticed that his father was gloomy. Hello, Dad, what ' s the matter? Been overworking lately, or am I your black sheep? For answer, Mr. Edwards produced the let- ter from the college. Immediately the expres- sion on Sid ' s face changed, but he did not read the letter, nor did he speak for some time. Then : I ' m sorry, Dad, but Greek and math just don ' t come, and — well, I ' d rather write than eat, and I can ' t help it. Well, young man, you ' ve had your chance at Greek and math. You ' re going to work in my mill, at the bottom of the ladder, and all chance for success and advancement depends wholly upon you. Never, Dad, answered Sid quietly. I ' d rather collect ashes. I will before I ' ll work in that dirty mill. I can ' t. I ' m going out on my own. I haven ' t been a spendthrift, and three- quarters of the more than sufficient allowance you ' ve given me I ' ve banked, and I ' ve my car, and money Mother left me, and — well, Dad, I Page Six