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

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A Cknstmas Story Too mey ' 36 The house was in the most exclusive section of the city. Claire Grahame, beautifully gowned in a Lanvin creation, looked petulantly out upon a snow-covered world. The storm had abated, although the wind was blowing sheets of fine drift about. It would surely spoil her party. The high-ceilinged room was resplendent in its rich furnishings. Interior decorators had produced a marvelous effect. Myriads of light- beams from the great candelabras played upon the superb decorations. Here was wealth. A maid came noiselessly into the room. The stars are already out, ma ' am, and the paths are nearly clear, she informed her frown- ing mistress. Is Mr. Grahame here yet? He has just arrived, ma ' am. A nervous apologetic John Grahame entered the room. Why are you late? she accused. I stopped to listen to some carol singers — boys, with such sweet voices — Carol singers! I worried because you were not here. Henri has not come, and Celeste in- sisted upon going to her sister ' s sick child. I depend on them for perfection of details. I know I shall be ill when this party is over. Unhappiness joined hands with Wealth. The home was one room among many in a ramshackle tenement. Two children and their mother pressed their faces against the cold win- dow glass. They clapped their hands with joy that the storm was gone. The little room was piteously poor in its furnishings; nevertheless, to the two little girls and their mother, it had taken on a truly festive air, since they had arrayed a little tree in one corner, and fastened a red ball in each window. But it was on the little table in the corner that their eyes came to rest. Here they had placed a little crib among some boughs of evergreen Over it a single Christmas candle shed its soft light. Shall we go now? Marie asked. The roads are clear. Yes, the mother answered, smiling at their eagerness. Each year they spent part of Christmas eve at the little church in the square. Here they prayed, and their father, dead now three years, seemed to hear their hopes and plans. God brought him very close to them at Christmas time. They thanked God for His goodness, and asked that He would take care of them during the coming year. Eager-eyed and joyful, they came out from the little church into the fairy palace of the world. Happiness joined hands with Poverty. Did You Know Tkat — No person can successfully feign insanity any more than he can pretend to have typhoid fever or pneumonia? Expert psychiatrists can deter- mine within a few minutes whether or not a person is insane by checking his mental reactions, thousands of which are keys to his true state of mind and are beyond his control. The James River in Virginia contains the on- ly known specimens of the fish that cannot float ? This strange creature has no air blad- der, and therefore, when it stops swimming, it sinks to the bottom. A seven years ' record of the notorious Devil ' s Island penal colony off French Guiana shows that prisoners attempt to escape on the average of one every fourteen hours? About one quar- ter of them are never recaptured, having gained their freedom or died at sea or in the jungle. A secret in the manufacture of one of the world ' s finest makes of porcelain china is that forty-four per cent, of it is the ash of cattle bones? The 14,000 taxicabs of New York City have a daily gross income of $100,000, which thev earn by making 200,000 trips with 350,000 passengers, a number that is equivalent to the entire population of Vermont? A recent survey shows that official lotteries are held today in thirty foreign countries, and that the citizens of the United States spend an aver- age of $575,000 a week on tickets for them? One of the greatest tributes ever paid a dog was the place given to Caesar in the funeral procession of King Edward VII of Great Brit- ain, in 1910? This little wire-haired terrier, the King ' s favorite pet, was allowed to march behind his master ' s casket, taking precedence over nine kings and nearly all the princes of the earth. Betty Groht ' 35 REFLECTOR ...7...

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CI aus Alarjorie Fulton 35 Mr. J. Hammersworth Knowles was in a fix. Much to his great disgust his wife had said that he would be Santa Claus at the Xmas tree of the Sisters of Independence. He had pleaded and begged in vain but Her Majesty , Mrs. Knowles, was not to be swayed from her pur- pose. J. Hammersworth would be Santy, and, what ' s more, he would like it. Mrs. Knowles worked feverishly making the outfit, and finally, about four o ' clock on the day before Christmas, Mr. J. Hammersworth obediently stuffed pillows fore and aft and with the help of the missis, donned the familiai regalia of that loved old Saint of Christmas time. At five o ' clock, he was sitting atop a card- board an d wood chimney, awaiting his cue to climb down a ladder and appear through a false fireplace set up in front of the stage where the kiddies could see him. Mrs. Harris, the president of the Sisters of Independence, had told him that when she said, I hear him coming now, dear children, J. Hammersworth was to rattle bells, and start climbing down the ladder. At present Mrs. Harris was telling about the Xmas box going to Honolulu, and J. Ham- mersworth fearfully awaiting his cue, was dis- gustingly adjusting his pack full of toys. Suddenly it came. Mrs. Harris ' s voice rose musically, saying, Here he comes now, dear children. Mr. Knowles reached for the bells, but, alas, no bells were to be found. He hadn ' t taken them off the dresser-Oh, what to do! I think I hear him, dear ones, repeated Mrs. Harris, raising her voice higher. Mr. Knowles rose to the occasion. He sang out, Whoa, there, whoa! and started to climb down the ladder. When he had got safely down to the next to the last rung of the ladder, his red coat caught on a nail, and the first the dear children saw of Santy Claus, was a pair oi black boots, red trousers, and because the nail held the coat up, a bright blue pillow held by a piece of white clothesline. Finally, the nail relinquished its hold, and the coat dropped down over the blue abdominal structure of St. Nicholas Safely down, St. Nicholas endeavored to climb out of the fireplace, amid the cries of the dear children ' and the applause of the Sisters of Independence. Had not Santy been in too much of a rush to stand up and wave to his friends, all would have been well; but, as it were, he attempted to arise too quickly, and consequently bumped his head on the cardboard mantlepiece, with the result that the whole fire- place collapsed. The dear children screamed in mirth, while Santa boiled with rage. After the janitor had cleared the wreckage away, Santa sat down in a big chair and invited the dear kiddies to come up and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. With a yell the kiddies roared up and over old Santy. They first punched his stomach which being safely protected behind the pillows, felt no damage. Secondly, one especially sweet little child grabbed his whiskers and ripped them off, revealing J. Hammersworth, now purple with anger. I fear that he forgot that he was representing Santa Claus. Grabbing the little boy who had shorn him of his whiskers, he cuffed him smartly across the back of the head, at the same time deftly kicking another mischievous young man who was engaged in pouring Xmas candy down one of Santy ' s boots. This treatment of their children was too much for the Sisters of Independence, several of whom headed for Santa Claus. One of them grabbed him by the arm. J. Hammersworth, thinking her to be one of the children, promptly knocked her on the head with a toy tin trumpet. Let us draw a veil over the rest of this Christ- mas scene. Suffice it is to say, that Mr. J. H. Knowles was never again asked to be Santy for the Sisters of Independence. Tke Rainbow I tried to paint a picture, A picture bright and gay, But someone stole my bright and hues, And left my colors dull and grey. There was no blue to paint the sky, No red to paint the rose; So I painted the approaching storm While the world lay in repose. The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, Then grievously came the rain ; The sun shown through the frowning clouds, My art was bright again. A rainbow gleamed across the sky, Its colors bright and new. I found the red to paint the rose ; Once more my sky was new. M. Setterland ' 38 REFLECTOR

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Grandmotker s Story Florence McDowell 37 In an attractive old-fashioned house a group of people were seated around a large fireplace. The wood was crackling, and the sparks were blowing cheerily up the chimney. One of this group, an old lady with beautiful snow-white hair, which was brushed back softly off nei wrinkled forehead, was seated in a large arm- chair. Three children sat at her feet, on the hearth rug before the open fire. The youngest child was leaning sleepily against her grandmother ' s chair, and they were all clamoring for their usual good-night story. The old lady started in with: Well, my lit- tle children, as long as it is the night before Christmas, I shall tell you a Christmas story that is true. When I was a little girl, my father went to fight in the Civil War. The months stretched out wearily. They were certainly un- happy ones for us. For weeks at a time we would be without word from our father. Often we would find our mother in tears, but when she saw us, her lips would break into a sweet smile. Finally all word failed to reach us. We waited and waited, but no letter came. One day, when we came in from our play, we found a great many people in our home. Our aunt led us into a room and told us that our daddy was dead, that he had given his life for his country, and that we should feel very proud. This was just before Thanksgiving time, and the news dampened our spirits greatly, and we felt that we had little to be thankful for. Days went past, and Christmas drew near; but we were not welcoming it with anticipation, because we missed our father so much. Mother prepared as usual, by baking and putting her house in order, and by making everything as inviting as possible. Finally the day before Christmas came. Mother was hurrying about, and we were ' all helping her, because we knew she was unhappy. We were all popping corn to make corn- balls when we heard a knock at the door. John, my brother, started to the door, but he had the corn-popper in his hand ; so mother told him she ' d go. Upon opening the door, she stood there, speechless. We all turned our heads rc see who it was, and we heard mother sob. ' Oh, my dear. Can it be true? Can it be true you are here? Come in! Come in! ' Our daddy walked in the door. He clasped us all in his arms, while we shed tears of happi- ness to feel him so close to us once more. Mother clung to him, and asked him how such a thing could happen. He looked at us in sur- prise, and asked us what we meant. So mother then told him how we had received word that he was dead. Father was certainly surprised ; then he felt sad that we had suffered such sorrow. He said that they were in the battle-line and a man, one who happened to be his best friend, had been without a coat, so he had covered him up with his own, never thinking he would die. When this soldier was found badly mutilated, they found daddy ' s coat near the body. The paper in the pockets had identified the man as my father. Later, daddy said, he himself was picked up by the enemy, and held prisoner. He had just been released and had come home as soon as possible. That was the best Christmas I ever had. We laughed so much, in our excitement, we almost forgot to eat the big, brown, crispy tur- key mother had cooked. We had so many peo- ple coming in and out, our door was always open. Mother had candles everywhere, and we certainly made up for our unhappy Thanks- giving, because we had more to be thankful for than anyone else in the world. Now, my little chickens, the story is over and so you must hur- ry and hang up the stockings, and scamper up the stairs. Grandma hurried them along in this fashion, because she didn ' t want them to see the tears which were shining in her eyes. Rita Linnehan : Ned turned to Joe and ad- dressed him — Rita Lawrence: Must be going to send him somewhere. Ned Houghton (at a party) : Hello! It ' s a peasant surprise to meet you here. Mac: Good of you to say so. Ned Houehton: Yes, I was afraid I should not find anybody here but brainy and cultured people. He: I ' m so sorry, dearest, that your father cannot afford the big church wedding you ' ve set vour heart on. She: Oh. I don ' t mind a small wedding for my first time, sweetheart. Perhaps father will be better fixed financially when I marry- again. REFLECTOR ...8...