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

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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

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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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guess I ' ll say good-bye. You understand, I ' m not angry, but I hate that mill, and I can ' t work in it, even for you. Boy — Sid, wait a minute! You ' ll never succeed. Why not take it? You — you won ' t? Why, you ' re afraid to soil your hands. Here ' s a hundred dollars. It ' s all I ' ll give you, and you may keep your car and money. Remember, this is a good-bye of your own choosing, and let it remain such until you consider yourself worthy of my consideration. Sid left next morning in his car. On reach- ing New York he went to a large garage. What will you give me for my car? It ' s a Lincoln, 1930 model, only driven about fifteen hundred miles ; good condition. I wouldn ' t sell it, only I need the money. Yes, sure it ' s mine. Didn ' t think I stole it, did you? Well, don ' t judge others by yourself, my man. Come on, what will you give me for it? Two thousand cash, if it ' s any good. Yep, two thousand cash. Is it a go or not? They closed the deal, and Sid went back to Standish, but not to The Manors. He had a camp about two miles out, and now it proved useful. He wasn ' t sure what he ' d do, but he deposited his money in the bank. All his worldly cash amounted to five thousand dollars. Yes, it was pretty good. He could live in ease for some time on that, but Sid had passed the point where he looked upon his future as a life of ease. Now he had an intense desire to show his Dad. He bought a paper, some pro- visions, and went back to camp. After a satis- fying meal of bacon and eggs, coffee and baker ' s doughnuts, he pushed back his chair, stuck his feet on the corner of the table, and began to read. He opened The Standish Telegram and said aloud: Huh, scandal in li ' l ole Standish. We ' re stepping out, folks. Headlines an inch and a half high! Well, look at this! Just listen to this! (This to the walls of the cabin appar- ently). Standish Times in Last Stages of Bankruptcy Will Be Forced to Sell June 28, 1931. — The Standish Times filed a plea to-day for bankruptcy, and will be forced to sell out. It may be impossible to find a per- son who will pay the $3,500 wanted for the paper; if so, it will be a clear case of bank- ruptcy, which will come as a great blow to the citizens of Standish, as The Times is, though a small paper, a reliable one. Only $3,500, and I ' ve got $5,000, and— golly! I believe I ' ll do it if I can get it, if it ' s not too late — oh, where ' s my hat? Sid went to the office of the editor who owned the paper, and after some arguments about a young man ' s capability, and so forth, bought the paper. From that time on The Standish Times grew in a strong, quiet way. No one in the outside world, no, none but his most intimate employees, knew of Sid ' s ownership. The articles, inter- views, editorials, and criticisms in the paper were much read and more discussed. Meanwhile the elder Mr. Edwards ' s business was increasing. He was thinking of operating another mill if he could buy it, but before the deal was closed he was called away, and it was necessary to leave his affairs in the hands of his business manager, Mr. Hicks. He gave Mr. Hicks full power to buy the rights of the other mill when they had come to the necessary agree- ment. Mr. Hicks ran the business for a week; then began to work on his own interests. He bor- rowed $50,000 from Mr. Edwards ' s firm. His plan was to buy the rights of the Standish Man- ufacturing Company with the $50,000 bor- rowed from Mr. Edwards, and then sell it back to Mr. Edwards for $80,000, thus making his employer pay $30,000 for the Company rights. Oh, yes, it was a bright idea, one to be ex- pected of a man of Mr. Hicks ' s calibre; but he didn ' t know that there was a man in Standish who had an eye on the Edwards ' s factory, no matter what happened. He knew that The Standish Times could ruin him if it got hold of his scheme, but there are times when, by keeping quiet, it is possible to harm people a thousand times more than by publicly denouncing their guilt and dishonesty. And one of Sid ' s men overheard a conversa- tion when he was looking up some reports on stocks. He told Sid, and within ten hours the Patje Seven