Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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4 ARLINGTON HIGH SGHOOL CLARION. disgustedly. “She’s no good to play school.” “ I am. too. How way can I wecite when you laugh at me.” “ Betty, will you hold your tongue ? Now, Tommie ; ” and Tommie, with the air of one who knows, and knows he knows, arose and recited, “ The Rockabye Lady from Hushabye street. Poppies hang from her head to her feet.” “That’s right. Goon.” Tommie went on, and with great eloquence recited “ Ba, Ba, Black Sheep,” and “Old Mother Hub- bard,” and then seated himself as one who has done his duty. Betty’s tears being dried hy this time, she was again called on to recite. Brush- ing back the tumbled curls, she began in a sing-song tone — “ A birdie wiv a yellow bill, Hopped upon my window sill ; Cocked he shiny eye and said, Aint you ’shamed, you sleepy head.” Then, forgetting what comes next, she began to extemporize, “ I aint ’ shamed, little birdie, I said, I will go wiv you to the sunny meadows where the dandelions shine and we will pick them, and Robin he Upon a twee Saw wipe chewwies One, two, fwee, and the sun was shining in the blue sky, and how way could we get home, I said.” At this juncture she suddenly sat herself down, covered with confusion. “ Now we will sing.” announced the teacher, and forthwith, ‘ My country ’t is of thee,” floated upon the air in three dif- ferent keys. “ Now Betty. And Betty sang — “ Hushabye, wockabye, little papoose, Dev’s many who lubs and watches above you. Till Dawn comes, wiv Wosy Wings.” “ Now Tommie, sing the scale.” Then Tommie was in despair, for singing the scale was not among his accomplishments. He stood first upon one foot, then on the other. He looked at the ceiling, he looked at the floor. “ Hurry up,” said the teacher. “ I don’t know ' what pitch to begin on,” he stammered forth at last. “ Well, we’ll have the harmonica for a pitch-pipe. Does anybody know vdiere it is ? We’ll have recess v ' hile we look for it.” After upsetting everything in the room, the missing instrument was found in the teacher’s pocket, and once again the school was seated. “ Do, re, mi,” sang Tommie to the ac- companiment of the harmonica, when “ Wow, wow, wow,” came in deep cre- scendo from the corner of the room where the great St. Bernard lay stretched out at full length. The children gazed in open The Best Place to buy . . CONFECTIONERY . . is at the Mystic Street Waiting Room- A. 0. SPRAGUE. R. W. Shattuck Co., PLUMBERS Furnaces, Ranges and General Jobbing 462 Massachusetts Avenue. Charles Davis Cobb, b. m. t . Visit COLUMBIAN CAFE, FOR A DENTIST, Quick Lunch or Good Dinner 22 POST OFFICE BLOCK, CIGARS AND TOBACCO. ARLINGTON. Telephone 182-3. A. C. LaBREQUE, Railroad Crossing.

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ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. 3 LITERARY DEPARTMENT PLAYING SCHOOL. To begin with, the children had all got- ten out of bed the wrong side, and were decidedly cross. First, Betty had put both boots on the wrong foot, and laced them up before the mistake was discovered. Then Tommie upset his milk at the break- fast table, and was in disgrace for the rest of the meal. Then it was raining and they couldn’t go out to play, and in general the omens were not favorable for a pleasant day, so we got the Friar’s Balsam and some bandages ready and prepared to endure. They played marbles and quarreled; they played store and quarrelled. Nothing seemed to go right, and they played tag and raced from attic to cellar like a small cyclone. Then Harry fell down stairs and cut his head. We bound up his wounds, wiped up the trail of blood he had spilled (a ceremony which greatly interested all three of them) and devoutly hoped that this accident would turn the tide of affairs. Having been thus doctored and advised to keep quiet for a little while, if possible, the sufferer sank into an armchair, announcing faintly, “ My head aches awful, and I want you children to keep still,” which the chil- dren proceeded to do for the space of half a minute. Bettie put her fat little thumb in her mouth and gazed at him, while Tom- mie wheeled round twice on one foot, and then suggested, “ Let’s play school.” “ Teacher ! ” shouted three voices in chorus, the loudest being that of the suf- ferer. “ You was teacher las’ time,” said Tom- mie reproachfully. “ You never let me be teacher,” said Betty, ready to shed tears again. “ Well, don’t be a bawl-baby! I’m the biggest, anyway, an ’ I ought to be teacher, an’ I should think you’d want to let me when I fell down and most killed myself.” Melted by this last argument, they made no more objections, so assuming the reins of authority he began to issue commands. “ Betty, you put up the chairs and give out the books, and Tommie you get a rattan.” For be it known unto you who are uniniti- ated that, in playing school, you may have imaginary scholars, or, on a pinch, you may have an imaginary teacher, but the rod must be the real thing, capable of being applied in and out of season. The chairs arranged and the rod found, the school was called to order. “ Betty, you may begin to read ; ” and Betty slid down from her chair with a “ Beginner’s Latin Book ” in her hands. “ Mawy, Mawy, quite contwawy,” she began, when — “Teacher, she’s got the book upside down,” Tommie broke in. “ I ain’t.” “ You have, too.” Down came the cane on the teacher’s desk. “ Stop talking in school. Tommie hold out your hand.” Punishment being duly administered, order was restored and the lesson pro ceeded . “ The Wock-a-bye Lady, from Hushabye stweet, Puppies hang fwom her head to her feets Comes cweeping ” “ IIo, puppies hang from her head to her feet,” echoed Tommie and the teacher, scornfully. “ Ma, hear what Betty says. Ha ! ha ! Puppies ! ” “That’s what teacher said.” “ She didn’t ! ” “ She did, too, Tommie Brown, an’ I want my hankchief,” and the ever ready tears began to flow. “ Tommie, you read,” said the teacher,

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ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. 5 mouthed astonishment, then “ Laddie ' s sing- ing, Laddie is singing,” they shouted. Sure enough the music had touched some chord in the old dog’s soul, and he lifted up his voice and sang. “ Play some more,” begged Betty. “ Come Laddie.” The dog rose, stretched himself, then solemnly sat down before the children. Harry played a high note and “ Ooow ” came in one prolonged howl. Then he went down the scale and “ Wow, wow, wow,” the dog’s notes slipped from tenor to bass. The children danced around him in high glee, shouting “ Good dog, good Laddie,” and Laddie wagged his tail as if conscious that he had conducted him- self wisely. Six times he sang, now high, now low, then as if ashamed of his un- wonted frivolity, he stalked back to his corner and laid down, nor could any amount of coaxing from the children, or any strain, however enticing, from the har- monica, induce him to break his dignified silence. ’05 THE BIG TROUT. What’s that? How did I catch that trout ? Well, he does look fine since I have had him mounted, and he recalls to me a very pleasant experience which I had last su m mer. I had determined to spend my vacation away from the usual haunts of vacationers and hearing that there was fine fishing in Ames, N. IL, I determined to spend a few weeks there and try my luck. It was a typical New England farm with a typical New England farmer owning it, and what was best of all, the river was only E. E. UPHAM PROVISION DEALER. The Choicest Beef, Pork, Lamb an d other Heats. BUTTER, EGGS, LARD, CHEESE. GAME and VEGETABLES of all kinds in their n TEL. CONNECTION. about a half a mile away and full of trout. My host, Mr. Enoch Carver, was much interested to see my fishing outfit and dur- ing my unpacking he told me the story ol the big trout. “ Yas,” said he, “they be fishin over ’n th’ river ’n ye can ketch em ’bout anytime ’n anywheres, ’n good ones too; but ye’ilt not git th’ big one.” “What’s this ?” said I, “have you got a special trout over in the river ?” “Yep, and ye’ill not git ’im either. No- body can’t git him. He’s busted more’n a dozen poles ’n lines in th’ last six vears ’n I reckon he’ll break yours too. Jake Haskins’ boy who’s in th’ “ T ” wharf came up las’ summer with a cod line, ’n a hook, bigger’n yure fist, ’n a reg’lar flag pole ’n the bloomin fish busted his line th’ fust cast.” I simply answered, “We will see.” Enoch had meanwhile carefully examined my fishing tackle and I could see that he regarded it with a great deal of scorn ; but he said nothing more. After supper we went up to the store ; a typical country store with the dry goods on one side, the groceries on the other, and the customary group of farmers and loafers in the center about the stove, industriously chewing their cuds or eating the customary, germ-infested rations usually found in such places. While conducting some business with the postmaster I overheard Enoch describing my fishing outfit to his interested listeners. “ Yas. he ’s one ’o them ’ere city whipper- snappers with a boss whip fer a pole, a piece ’o spider web fer a line ’n a hook DR. ( W. YALE, DENTIST, POST OFFICE BUILDING, ARLINGTON.