Cloverdale Union High School - Spectator Yearbook (Cloverdale, CA)

Page 29 text:

THE SPECTATOR 27 WtUp tit? Emu JIatM mt tit? Euuf T is an old garret with big brown rafters; the boards between are stained with rain storms of twenty years. And as the April shower quickened its flood it seemed as if its torrents would come dashing through the shingles upon me and my play. It seemed a grand old place, and it was all great fun—the heavy rafters, the dashing rain, the piles of spare mattresses to lie upon. There is great fun in going through a tall barrel of books on the lookout for startling pictures. There are also apples in the garret—apples that are drying. And when I discovered them, I put a few in my pocket and ate them quietly. But I got tired of this, even of the swing. Suddenly I noticed a copy of Robinson Crusoe. I started to read it, and all at once I was trembling for the poor fellow with his guns behind the palisade. I was nearly dead with fright, yet I thought the old fellow must have had a capital time with a whole island to himself. I thought what a fine thing it would be for me to slip away some pleasant morning; and how, if they knew I were going, there would be such a world of good-byes; and how, if they did not know it, there would be such a world of wonder. And the sailor’s dress would be great. It would all be such rare sport. A sailor’s life on the blue and tumbling sea!—as you have often seen in pictures. I would have better luck than even Crusoe; I would save a compass and stores of hatchets and the captain’s dog, and great barrels of sweetmeats, all of which Crusoe completely overlooked. I would have a tent or two, which I could set up on the shore, and an American flag, and a small cannon, which I could fire as often as I liked. At night I would sleep in a tree, and would wonder how Crusoe did it; I would say the prayers that I had been taught to say at home and then would fall asleep. At sunrise I would come down, feeling very much refreshed, and would make a very nice breakfast of smoked herring and sea-bread with a little currant jam and a few oranges. After a long while, I fancy a ship would arrive, which would carry me back to my father and mother. Then would we have a great deal of pleasant talk about the island far away in the South Seas. Thus, in my quiet garret corner, with my head upon my hand, did my thoughts stroll away from the book into my own dreamy cruise over the sea. D. B. T7.

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26 THE SPECTATOR To the whole colony they were confessed sweethearts and a happy young man was Sheridan when, coming home in the cool of the evening, after a hard day’s work he would see her bright red kerchief come bobbing up the track, to meet him. He would kiss her ardently on the lips and the young couple would walk home talking in happy anticipation of the time when he would have saved up enough to buy them a little home. Six years passed and now there was a little cottage; further¬ more it was inhabited by three, for now there was a little Marguerita also. Indeed it was a happy family. Monday morning Sheridan went to work as usual with some anxiety, for the little one was not feeling well. He had been working for about an hour when a speck was seen in the distance on the railroad. All regarded this curiously . It was not time for the track walker to come on his tricycle. But it was he just the same. When he came within speaking distance he cried, “Sheridan! Sheridan! Your child,—the little Marguerita—she is very sick—your wife, she sent me.” His mind grasped one fact—a doctor. He must get a doctor at once. The nearest doctor was at the little town of B.—two miles up the railroad. He jumped on the railroad tricycle and started up the track. The men divined his intentions and tried to stop him. The train would come up the track towards B. in five minutes and he would be run over. But he was desperate and nothing could stop him. The road to B. was through deep cuts and over steep precipices. Soon he heard a faint whistle behind him; he redoubled his efforts and fairly flew along the track. His arms ached and his head swam, but it was a ride for the lives of two now, and he worked with the might born of desperation. He was rounding the last curve now; the engine was close upon him but on account of the winding way, the engineer was unaware of the fact. He threw his last ounce of strength on the handle and fairly flew down the long grade to the depot. Just then the long train rounded a curve and came thundering by just as he jumped for his life. The tricycle was ruined, but Sheridan stopped not. He ran to the doctor’s house, and soon had him speeding toward the settlement. The child was saved. M. H. ’17.

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28 THE SPECTATOR itrk 0 YE MOTHER,” sang out little red-haired, freckled-faced Dick O’Neil, as lie boarded the train together with a crowd of other boys, after being nearly hugged to death by his little sister and his mother. Dick had been raised in the tenement district of New York and since a wee child had con¬ tributed to the support of the family by selling newspapers. His mother worked in a shirtwaist factory; her work was hard and the wages low. What little she made barely afforded them a scanty living. His father, when living, had been a shoe-maker, and though he did not make much, the family managed to live quite comfortably. He, however, died when Dick and the other children were quite small, and therefore left the family in great need. A kind old gentleman, Mr. Smith, had taken a fancy to Dick and a few other newsboys. He had offered to take them to Cali¬ fornia and secure them jobs on farms. Dick’s mother had con¬ sented, after learning that with plenty of fresh air and good food, Dick would become a strong, healthy boy, and would be able to support her in her old age. As the train neared it’s destination, five days after Dick had boarded it, Mr. Smith called his group of boys together and ex¬ plained that California was a great deal different from New York; he reminded the boys that they were going to work for people who expected them to be honest and upright in every way. When the train stopped at Cl overdale, a man in a two-horse wagon was waiting for Dick. After bidding his friends farewell and thanking Mr. Smith for his kindness, Dick climbed to the seat beside Mr. Brown and was soon on his way to his future home. After winding six or seven miles in the mountains they reached a large, white farm-house wdtli many out buildings. In the rear and to the right were forests of large trees which gave the house a snug appearance. To the left was a small lake sur¬ rounded by many flowering shrubs and ferns. All this Dick took in with a bewildered glance. He longed to climb down from the wagon and run into the forest, to plunge into the lake with the ducks, and to chase butterflies and pick the beautiful flowers growing in profusion. Mr. Brown drove up to the side door and helped Dick down from the wagon. He summoned a maid and told her to show Dick his room. Dick followed her up the long flight of stairs down the