Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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14 THE ECHO a blessed opportunity to give it where it would do good. “Well, then, you know how des- titute the Saunders family were left; everything burned, while they were at church two weeks ago. The minute I heard of it, I began to cast about in my mind who would be likely to have clothes to fit those poor folks. “I knew Mrs. Saunders was about my size, and Squire Rawlin’s house- keeper is my size, too; that seemed a real leading! So I sat right down and wrote her, saying I felt sure she would be glad to help a family in distress and that halfworn gar- ments would be perfectly suitable. She sent me back a note saying she had just packed all her available dresses to go to a Western cousin, and that there “must be others ’ who could help fit out Mrs. Saunders. It was a polite enough note but showed plain enough that she wasn’t sen- sible of the chance I’d given her, right at home. “Then there was that poor one- armed man that my brother Sam sent over here, saying what a good worker he was, and how much he could do with his one arm. “I bethought me at once of the Sprague sisters; perfectly able to hire help, and with no man belong- ing to them. It seemed as if they’d be filled with gratitude at such a chance. I sent the man right to them. But I heard that all they did was to give him supper and break- fast, and let him sleep in the shed over night, just because they’d made some sort of a promise to Tommy Jennings to let him do the odd work to earn money to pay his way at the academy. “I wrote to brother Sam just how it was, but I had a kind of “hurt” letter from him, saying the man had come back, and he had found work for him as he was disappointed in Brookby. I think Sam feels just as I do about the folks here, though he never says anything. He’s an awful quick man to take up a good work, and I think it makes him feel bad to come here. “He hasn’t visited me for five years now. The last time he came he was getting up a subscription for the soldiers’ monument in Slow- town; he talked with me about it, knowing I’d be interested, as George and Fred both went from Slowtown to the war. He said that he didn’t know but there’d be somebody in Brookby that would feel to give a little something to the fund. “I remember just how he sat, looking out of the window, as he said it. He seemed sort of sad. So I cast around in my mind, and at last I though of Ann Crawley. And I said: “Sam, I don’t know for sure, but Ann Crawley might subscribe some- thing if you went over to the farm. You know she was engaged to a Slowtown young man that was killed in the war. To be sure, I said as a kind of caution; she has grown a little near of late years; but her heart might be opened and her purse strings loosened for such an object,” I said. “Sam waited a minute, and then he turned round, and gave a sigh, and said he, “I guess I won’t go so far on an uncertainty.” That was all he said, and that’s the last time I saw him.” Mrs. Spears paused to inspect her sewing and Miss Warner opened her lips, and straightened the pail on her knees. “How are your cranberries this year?” she asked timidly. “There, said Mrs. Spears, with a smile of great benevolence ; “when I saw that pail, I said to myself T know Betty Warner is after cran- berries’. And it does seem a real Providence that you came to me, for I know just where to send you. Deacon Brown’s big bog has yielded beyond all hopes this year; and to- morrow the pickers are to begin work. He told me there’d be

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THE ECHO 13 Peace. It is early morning ! The last signs of gray mists are lifting to re- veal the red glow of the rising sun. As it rises, it slowly lights the east- ern sky to a beautiful blood red and golden. The air is clear but holds the suggestion of a storm. In the distance a dog’s sharp bark tells us the time has come to begin the day’s work. As the sun slowly rises higher it gives a feeling of satisfaction in being alive. The breeze stirs the leaves and the birds are busily pick- ing for their breakfast, and calling us to come out and enjoy the beau- ties of a beautiful morning. Soon the horses are brought out to be harnessed. They, too, seem to feel a quiet peacefulness. The reins lie idly in the hands of the farmer as he sits gazing over his tracts of land from which the sun and rain are helping to bring forth his crops. The deep blue of the sky seems to darken, — yes, it has turned to pur- ple as the breeze dies down and a deathly stillness settles over the land. The farmer gazes anxiously over the brown and gold of the hay field. The horses lift their heads. The purple of the sky has turned to black, the wind blows and the sun hides his face beneath the shadow of a cloud. The farmer turns his horses back to shelter; he reaches it just as the down-pour of rain falls heavily. He unharnesses his horses and turns them into their stalls and stands at the barn door. A deep rumble of thunder breaks the steady natter of rain. A jagged flash of lightning follows, the wind blows furiously and the horses whinny for their master. For half an hour or more this storm darkened the surrounding country. Then as suddenly as the sun had left, it came back and cnce more smiled on the world. The black clouds roll away leaving soft blue clouds in their place. Thus the peace of the morning was restored and the farmer went back to his work. HELEN BOARDMAN, ’26. How She Helped “Seems strange to me that folks will let chances to do good slip right through their fingers,” said old Mrs. Spears, to her gossip Miss Warner, who sat on the edge of her chair. “Seems strange they don’t think how unlikely ’tis they’ll ever have just the same chance again.” “Yes’m, I was wondering if — ” began Miss Warner, but her small spark of conversation was speedily quenched by the onrushing tide of the old lady’s speech. “’Taint any use to wonder,” she said, quickly biting off the thread with which she was mending a rent; “the thing is to do; that’s what I’ve labored all my days to make Brook- by folks realize, and it don’t seem as if I’d made much of any impression on ’em. “Now there’s the minister’s wife; she makes most excellent pies. Well, when Miss White came around the other day asking for donations for the missionary supper, she said she was in want of some apple pies. Quick as thought I said to her, ‘The minister’s wife is the very one ! Her pies are extra good. No doubt she’ll count it a real privilege to make some ! “Miss White looked doubtful, and it seems she had reason. I heard that the minister’s wife spoke up real sharp, and said, she’d got too much else to do to make pies for other people. It seems sad for a minister to have that kind of a com- panion! I gave them a loaf of fruit cake that Cousin Sarah brought over here the last time she came. It was too rich for me ,and it seemed such

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THE ECHO 15 enough to pay him well. He said to me, in joke, knowing my rheuma- tism, ‘If you hadn’t a bog of your own, Mrs. Spears, I should be happy to make you a present of all you’d pick!’ “Now I’ll write a line to him, say- ing you are my substitute. Hand me my glasses, Betty. What a provi- dential thing you came in, as I said ! It makes me so happy to be able to help a little, now and then!” The bewildered guest meekly handed her the glasses, and with a conscience happily at rest, Mrs. Speers applied herself to the com- position of her letter to the deacon. RUTH HAUSER, ’27. The Mysterious Bag It was a dark, foggy night and I was returning from the movies. To reach home quicker, I took a short cut through an alley. I had gone about half way when I saw a man, who was carrying a bag on his shoulder, come out of one of the houses. I grew suspicious and de- cided to follow him. He shifted his burden from shoulder to shoulder as if the baer were of great weight. Suddenly I heard a cry like that of a baby come from the sack. This aroused my suspicions more than ever. The man was rapidly approach- ing the bridge which overhung a large river. He was just about to pitch the bag over the railing when I said, “Halt!” The man ran, leaving the bag be- hind. I ran over to the bag, untied the cord, and to my surprise, out came an old cat with her seven kit- tens. They started off in the di- rection of the house from which the man had come. JULES WALDMAN, ’28. THE FARM OF THE FUTURE In 2941 — “The world is certainly changed,” remarked some angels who were gazing down from the heavens, “since 1924.” Indeed it had. Buildings towered, miles high. The sun could not reach the streets, so artificial sunshine cast its rays from buildings and posts. Hardly a clear spot could be seen in all the world. Land was valued so high an ordinary man could not buy a square foot. The government reserved an acre here and there to help feed the people if connections with other planets were broken. I suppose you wonder how they built new houses; instead of buying land, they bought the top of another house and built theirs above. Fire was a thing of the past so nothing was de- stroyed by fire. A farm was a rare sight and what was considered a farm we would not recognize. Plants had been changed so as to yield more. Vegetables of all kinds grew on trees. Orchards of tomatoes, onions, beets, and with rare vegetables growing underneath were often found on a farm. The farms in many places were similar to the rest of the world, that is, in layers. By means of boxes and posts, food-stuffs were grown on top of each other. The rich soil used in layer farming was imported from other planets. Giant air-crafts were used for carrying things between planets. The few farms could hardly feed the people on our world. Canned goods, green vegetables, fruits and meats were imported from the stars. Milk, of the creamiest and best va- riety ever known, was transported from the Milky Way to help feed the many people. Thousands of pounds of butter and cheese were imported from the moon daily. Furthermore, the universe was so civilized it never had wars or anv such things. Peace reigned. ETHEL MAYERS, ’26.