Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

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Lawrence and Hall, Plumbing, Tin and Sheet Iron Workers, Hot W ater Heating. Dealers in water supplies of all hinds. Agents for OLE LLW Ranges. FALMOUTH, MASS. WE SELL “ S O R O S I S,” The New Shoe for Women. St3rles, 3-SO- CONTINENTAL SHOE STORE, Kaln:ioi itln, Mass. Soc win f rowTiy 0 , 0 . S., d ' almouth, 7 fass. OFFICE HOURS: 9 to 12 a. m.; I to 4 p. iti. FLOWERS and FLORAL DESIGNS, For Every Occasion. H. V. LAWRENCE, FALMOUTH, ■ ■ MASS, Post Office Building, DEALER IN FANCY AND STAPLE GROCERIES, Cataumet, Mass, Office Hours from 8 to 5.

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THE HIGH SCHOOL ECHO. DRE. ' MLAND. I had a very singular dream last night. I dreamt of being “Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep.” I went rolling “Over the Ocean Wave” and was finally left on the shores of “The German Rhine.” I looked up the beach and saw a beautiful hall situated “ ’Mid Pleasures and Palaces.” There seemed to be a public entertainment ; people passed to and fro. In a large arm chair sat “My Pussy” and “Old Dog I ' ray.” “Nancy Lee” sat on “America” with her true friend “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.” I was much sur- piised when all began singing as a young girl entered, “Make Room for May” with “The Revolutionary Tea.” The “Merry Swiss Roy” came lagging along just as refreshments were being serv ' ed. He said he had come just to “Help it on.” Just behind came “The Spider and the Fly.” “Margerite and Juanita.” Quite a time elapsed before I noticed “Lucy Long” saunter in with “Nellie Gray.” As they came in. I saw “Yankee Doodle” wrapped in the “Star Spangled Banner” walk over to “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and say, “Little Lucy Little” “Why Mournest Thou Here?’ ” She answered, “ T’m Left Here All Alone,” “My True Friend” went and left me, “Just as the Sun Went Down.’ ” My attention was then attracted by the “Men of Harlech’s” seeming quite alarmed at seeing “A Warrior Bold in the Days of Old” with an “Empty Sleeve” coming toward them. Their fear died away, how- ever, when they recognized the noble-looking, well-preserved old gentleman, “Columbia,” who, on account of his hale and hearty ap- pearance, was called “Hail Columbia.” He began his boring story of how he had escaped during the “Georgia Camp-Meeting,” from his old master “Way Down South in Dixie.” His friends began to look wearied and finally left him. During all this time the “Minstrel Re- turned from the War” had been sweeping the melancholy strings of “The Harp that once through Tara’s Hall,” “The soul of music under a shed” or words to that effect. I began to think of returning to my “Old New Hampshire Home” and so passed out into the “Stilly Night.” As I went out on to the cold beach and looked back upon the happy throng, I murmured, “ ‘O Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast?” I saw the first rays of the rising sun break- ing over the “Blue Alsatian Mountains” and so hurried on down the beach. There I saw “Two little Maids in Blue.” Just as I was stepping into my “Canoe that Floats on Forever,” I heard the songs of several other persons who were returning from their “Dreamland.” Among the rest I heard a number of jolly fellows “Coming through the Rye” (put up in quart bottles). And as they went they sang, “We won’t go home ’til morning.” Just as I was about to step into the “Cradle of the Deep,” I — awoke. SECRETARY HAY’S NEW RUSSIAN TREATY. A bit of diplomacy that cannot fail to flatter American pride, has been con- summated by the receipt, during the past month, of a written guarantee from the Russian government, that whatever might be the vicissitudes of the Celestial empire as to territorial disintegration, American trade treaties with China would continue valid. The Russian government was the last of the great powers to accord us this guarantee. This same assurance, as regards British treaty rights, has been sought in vain by the court of St. James for the past year. Some English papers have affected to regard this demand on the part of our .government, at this critical period of British history, as proof of our friendly feeling, even going so far as to intimate that our diplomatic machinery was set in motion through London influence. Nothing could arouse the latent Anglo- phobia so easily as statements of this kind. And the moral force of a probable ally with which England holds hostile Europe in check can be easily destroyed by assertions tending to prove an entente so at variance with our traditional policy. — “The National Magazine.”

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THE HIGH SCHOOL ECHO. A LANDSCAPE SCENE. Every field and wood between me and the dark water beyond shone in the sun- set’s glow. The fields were of a brownish tint and very beautiful. The trees in the distance looked to lie of a dark greenish shade and loomed up before the eyes, furnishing a weird picture. As there was hardly a breath of air stiring the sea beyond was calm and tranquil. In the harbor could be seen a few pleasure yachts and fishing boats. ' rhe horizon was of many different colors intermingled in perfect harmony with the surrounding country. At a distance could be seen the tall and ghost-like form of the Government Light- house. This Light-house is situated at the ex- tremity of a narrow strip of land extending far out into the water. Now as the sun is about to set, the horizon seems on fire. Long streamers of fire seem to be extending in ail directions and these mingling with the pale blue of the evening sky make a pleasing spectacle. G. F. H. NEWSPAPERS FOR LUNATICS. A little known but not uninstructive branch of journalism is that which comprises newspapers written, printed and published in lunatic asylums. The lunatic journalism took its rise with a copy of The Neiv Moon, issued at the Crichton Royal Asylum, Dum- fries, Scotland, in 1844. Now many of the leading asylums of both hemispheres have journals. A writer in the London Mai 7 gives the following particulars about them : These magazines touch the journalistic ideal, as, being written by the readers for their own amusement, they can not fail to hit the popular taste. We find that those mentally deranged like about four-ninths of their reading to take the form of travel and heavy prose articles of a strictly theoretical nature. The rest of the contents comes in order of quantity as follows : Humor, local notes, poetry, chiefly in a light vein ; special articles on local theatricals, and fiction. The most striking feature about these journals is the almost total absence of gloom and melancholia, and we have it on the word of the doctor of one of the leading asylums that this is not owing to such contrib utions being tabooed. But now and again one comes on a poem or tale drenched with melancholia and morbid insanity. In one of these journals appeared a story written in the first person, about a hero — undoubtedly the writer — who had his head tvvisted around the wrong way. The consequence was he invariably had to walk in the opposite direc- tion to which he wanted to walk. This terrible fate haunts him right through the story, causing him to lose friends, money and everything else which man holds dear, and ends up by his in him, in his own mind, . murdering the girl who was to save him from himself. According to the story, the heroine was standing on the edge of a great preci- pice. The hero is standing near. Suddenly the heroine becomes giddy and totters on the brink. The hero tries to dash forward and save her, but of course runs the other way. Here comes a break in the narrative, which is finished by the following sentence : “And the gates of an asylum for those men- tally deranged shut the writer off from his friends in the outer world.” The writer gives the following quotation from an unfortunate journalist of The Fort E 7 igland Mirror : I met a young widow with a grown step- daughter, and a short time afterward the widow married me. Then my father, who was a widower, met my stepdaughter and married her. That made my wife the mother-in-law of her father-in-law, and made my stepdaughter my mother and my father my stepson. Then my stepmother, the step- daughter of my wife, had a son. That boy was, of course, my brother, because he was my father’s son. He was also the son of my wife’s stepdaughter, and therefore he r grand- son. That made me grandfather to my stepbrother. Then my wife had a son. My mother-in-law, the stepsister of my son, is also his grandmother, because he is her step- son’s child. My father is the brother-in-law of my child, because his stepsister is his wife. I am the brother of my own son, who is also the son of my stepgrandmother. I am my mother’s brother-in-law, my wife is her own child’s aunt, my son is my father’s nephew, and I’m my own grandfather. And after trying to explain the relationship some seven times a day to friends for a fortnight, I was brought here — no, came of my own will. Another writer declares gleefully that he never found rest from his mother-in-law be- fore, and that he intends to continue as long as possible to hoodwink the physicians in their notion that he is insane. Anot her writes that the fate of all great men has been to be maltreated or overlooked by their contemporaries, and therefore he is now de- tained : “For the thick skulls and those of little sense are jealous of my being the first to discover that we could all live forever if we would only walk on our hands instead of our feet .” — The Literary Digest.