North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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12 MANET lVhat was it that made Karl Schmidt, the little foreign boy, whose parents, although ex- tremely poor, had determined to send him to a good American school, be the very one who. with a happy smile on his usually sad face. walk to the front of the room to receive from the beaming teacher the coveted reward? That was luck. YVhat was it that made the same happy boy lose, on his way home, the money wlnch he received that morning? That was fate. lVhat was it that made Peter Steele. whose parents were equally as poor and who had tried. to the best of his ability to 'earn the money for his parents, watch with a sinking heart another boy earn the much desired prize? That was fate. XYhat was it that made the much disap- pointed Peter, on his way home that evening. ind a well worn purse, bearing the initials K. with the money inside? That was luck. VVhat was it that made Peter, after a battle with his conscience, take to Karl 's humble home and give back to him the money which he had lost? That was love. A XVhat was it that made Karl, with a brilliant light in his eyes, divide equally the money? That was the greatest love of all. Priscilla Xvallace, 9-3. SUNSET The tops of pointed pines arise Against the glowing sunset skies: The sun, a ball of molten gold, Appears to have settled on the crest Of yonder mountain in the west. Lending the sky its brilliant hue lVhich melts above into softest blue. The night-bird callsg its shrill notes wake Echoes far across the lake: No breeze stirs through the woodland dalesg Tl1e stillness of the night prevails: The lake reflects the gold and green And mirrors the beauty of the scene. Sinking. a crimson blaze in the west. The sun now leaves the world at rest: No human voice to break the still, Softly the shadows fall, until The evening star gleams far away. Eclioes cease, 'tis the end of day. Bernice Lyford. VISION Life would be a crystal draught For which through aeons I had sought From a rounded. golden bowl. The world's not so precious. not the whole And after each sweet taste. then I'd raise 1111' eyes and drink again. Till at last when all was done, And all my drops were gone but one. I'd throw my head back with a sigh And. lifting sad eyes to the sky. See a light 119'G1' seen before. Hear celestial music soar. The sound of white rays as they met Till. with the aching glory. my eyes wet, I would drink the last drop up And laughing. throw away the cup. Elizabeth Balcom. 10 CLOUD F ANCIFS Swift. oh swift. thou lady moon. Across the night sky. soft, star-strewn, Phantom forms tlit by you. Hist! Their wisps of gossamer, cloaks of mist XVrapped round them, iioating out behind, Hastening past. Moon. art thou blind? Uh see. they hasten away. away-- Pray. why do you not turn and play? For see. they all sail swiftly by To Fairyland. Turn thou and fly. Oh. whither goest thou, fair moon '? Fie! Play. for day breaks all too soon. Come. hast thou done some wrong. in haste To flee. as though by monsters chased? Ah. stop. fair moon. the night is sweet, The stars are hung: the fairies meet To sing and dance. But thou-oh. tie! So swift. so white. you hasten by. Hazel M. Borne 10

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MANET 11 The captain emerged from his cabin and shouted to the crew, who were wrapped in heavy rubber clothing, Launch de boats, row out a leetle way and cast de nets. Queek, I care not for dees 'little' storm or how long he rages! Through shouts of protest, the boats were launched a11d away the sailors rowed. Later they came back with the sad report that one of the crew had been drowned when his boat overturned and there were no fish caught. Dawes, disgusted went to his cabin for it was to have been his job to photograph the cleaning and weighing the fish. The crew went to the quarters but still the captain walked the deck. Late that night, an earnest conversation was being held in the crew's quarters. The crew were talking in a large group. One man cried, VVe must get reed of dees peecture man. He ees making de feesh run away and he make our man drown! I tell you, tomorrow night I weel go to hees cabin and knife heem. VVhat you say to dat my friends? Through shouts and cheers it was learned that Dawes was a jynx to these ignorant and superstitious men. The next day the storm did not abate, but continued. Again the catch was small Toward nightfall Dawes went to his cabin to retire. About 3.30 A. M. he was awakened by a sound of stealthy footsteps approaching his cabin door! Sitting abruptly up in his bunk, he snatched his gun from under his pillow and waited. He sat there about a moment or two which seemed hours. He looked out of the window. The storm had died down and the huge yellow moon spread a golden ray across the still black water. Suddenly, he was startled to hear the foot- steps stop in front of his door. He saw the knob move back-back-back and crash! Into the cabin rushed the leader of the crew. I-Ie was naked down to the waist. In his hand he carried a huge knife. VVith a mad lunge he dived at the terrified Jim. Grabbing the butt of his revolver, 'Jim cracked the man, who, with a moan, fell heavily to the floor. Into the cabin the captain ran and cried, 'What ees dees? pointing to the still form. Jim explained the best way possible and then with a. curse the captain grabbed the body of the stunned leader and dashed out of the cabin, slamming the door. How Jim got through the-night he does not know to this day for he was scared pink that the crew were coming to seek their revenge but they did not appear. 'When the Jessie Silvan docked, Jim rushed off to his employer's office in Boston. When he burst into the door of the oflice, the em- ployer echoed a. cry of surprise. J IM 'S ONCE DARK HAIR HAD TURNED PURE VVHITE FROM TERROR! After he related his experiences he said, Sir, I'd never go again for all the fish at sea! ' Jim is now the head photographer for a leading newspaper of New York and this is how he told it to me. Marjorie Bennington, 9-2. THIEVES Casey Riggs was an honest man. So he told himself and all his associates. Casey had ua peculiar brand of conscience, it had elastic qualities. Nobody but Casey himself under- stood Casey 's moral code. On this particular day he was walking down High Main Street just keeping his eyes open for good-fortune. Suddenly he stopped. A large, elegant-looking lady descended from a long black car and stepped across the pave- ment into an exclusive shop. In her progress she dropped her purse, unnoticed by herself or, so thought Casey, passersby. In the same instant that the purse left the corpulent lady's arm, Casey's conscience was stretching. Almost at the identical moment of the purses landing, Casey turned his head. This was done so that when he looked back, the lady would have vanished, and Casey, not knowing to whom the purse belonged, and knowing that all cops were crooks, he needs must keep the purse-and its contents. His soul satisfied, Casey turned his head and took a step toward the spot of the bag's fall. lt was gone! In that instant, someone less conscientious had seized the object of Casey's desire. Bitterly denouncing dishonest men, and fate, and everything in general, Casey shuffled down the street, turned the corner and swiped an apple carelessly from a fruit stall. Munching his prize, he shuffled on, cursing the god who created thieves. Hazel Borne, 10. LOVE, LUCK, AND FATE What was it that made Mr. Boyd, the most severe teacher in the Wilson School for Boys, to whom daily chastisement for the rnerest of offences were a daily occurrence, offer a new five dollar bill to the pupil whose grading in scholarship and deportment was the best for one month? That was love.

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13 MANET Hazel Borne THE IVORY PAPER KNIFE Beverly Hills, the ho1ne of the silver screen stars, lay simmering in the heat of a. summer 's morning. A dog barked piercingly somewhere, a lawnmower whirred in the distance, and a few high-powered cars whizzed by on the road- way. The sun poured down from a brilliantly blue sky, and a locust sang in a eucalyptus tree that hardly stirred in a faint warm breeze. Spread over a lounge chair, on a cool ver- anda was a boy. He was immaculately attired in white shorts, and through half-closed eyes he surveyed the stretch of green lawn with its white crescent of drive and its big trees. The toe of one of his black and white sport shoes thumped on the tiles with irritating regularity. Aside from that he was entirely still, and on the whole, conveyed the impression that he was either a permanent invalid or a person ex- hausted by heat. Suddenly, inside the house, a telephone jangled loudly. The boy didn't move. The gardener, on his knees among the roses. mopped his perspiring brow, and looked toward the boy. You'd best be after answering that there telephone, Master Nicki, he said. He bore the imposing name of Fyodor Pakinovitch, tho' he spoke with a thick Irish voice. ' Nicki sighed languidly. Oh, all right, tho' it's probably for Chris, he said, and arose slowly, and went towards the door. The tele- phone was growing more insistent as he went. Hello,'7 he said, in a dying voice.i Oh, Chris?-I'll call him! Oh-oh, no, anything for you, Margief, He shouted up the stairs. 4'Oh, Chris! Margie 's on the 'phone! An irate voice floated down, 'cTell her to hold the line! I'm not dressed! That's all right, Nicki assured him. '4She says come just as you are! I can 't, cried Chris, I'1n in the shower. Nicki returned to tl1e telephone. Hello, Margie, Chris says to hold the line-hels tak- ing a shower, that's the noise you hear. He 's awfully noisy. No, that's the lawnmowerf' At that moment nineteen year old, blond, Chris dashed down the stairs. Give me that, you imp! He grabbed the 'phone, where upon Nicki retired into the library to gleefully jiggle the hook of that 'phone up and down, to the indignation of Chris., we LITERARY 919' Fifteen minutes later, a big car was gliding through Beverly Hills, with Nicki sitting be- side the chauffeur, who also bore a Russian name, and who was reputed to be the son of the late Czar of Russia. Certainly, in his dark and handsome face, there was all the pride of the Romanoffs, and he wore his chauffeur's uniform as a prince might wear his. The Thorpes ran their household with Russian serv- ants, at least, those with Russian names. Nicki's real name was Nikolai, but his screen public knew him as Nicki Thorpe. Chris's middle name was Alexovitch, but he never told anyone. Chris was vainly trying to say something, and Nicki, who had installed a siren on the car, rang it every time he heard Chris' voice. At last he stopped and kneeling on the cushions, looked over the back of the seat at his brother. VVhat's this? asked Chris, holding up an object. Its a paper knife, replied Nicki. An ivory one, I bought it the other day. It cost five dollars. t'VVhat do you want a paper knife for? queried Chris. t'It's awfully heavy.'7 The handle was heavily carved in relief, with oriental figures. It seemed to be loaded. ' UI don 't want it. said Nicki. You can have it. 'fWhat would I want it for? said Chris, but nevertheless he put it in his pocket. You shouldn't waste your money on foolish things. You might need that five dollars some dayfl 'fHey, Chris, said Nicki after a few minutes' silence. VVhat did Margie have to say? None of your business, retorted Chris, flushing. Never mind, said Nicki, I know any- way. Look here, said Chris. I don 't, like you. The Doctor said to me 'Chris' you've been blessed by a little brother,' I thought I was then, but now I know I was cursed. How long did it take you to think that one up? flashed Nicki, 4'Did you ever think how I felt when I first looked at you? VVell, I felt positively nauseated! He slid around front again and chattered into the Crown Prince's ear all the rest of the way. At the studio Nicki paired off with his bosom