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

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8 MANET The leader poured a stream of Words in a Spanish sounding tongue into their startled ears. That it was Spanish was evident When the Indian guide replied in the same manner. Were they to be able to converse with these people and learn the strange secret of their isolation? VVere these people some band of lncas separated by the mountains from the rest of the world in bygone days? As they spoke Spanish they might even be the descendants of Indians who had fled from Spanish oppression into the wild mountain regions. And if so, had they developed into a new and strange race as often happens under like conditions? In any event, what would their fate be amongst these savages who plainly showed their dislike for them? The guide began to speak, unravelling the following amazing story. CContinued in the June Issued JOSEPH COSTELLO, 11-1. THE STORMING OF THE BASTILE The frenzied mob charged down the street With furious cries and tramping feet, Brandishing firearms and flashing knives, Hate in their hearts-avenging lives. The grim old prison was reached at last, The object of hatred for long years past. A shout, The prisoners, set them freel' 'Twas easyea dead guard-a purloined key. But the mob, full of hatred, their work just begun. Stopped at nothing-they plundered. they tortured, they hung! Long years had they waited. souls seething with hate. Ai-istocrats, rulers, at last met their fate! Margaret Duncan, 11-6. A LITTLE OF LIFE You know, life is a funny thing. Ton lay your plans for the day without thinking that something may happen to prevent their being carried out and suddenly you ind yourself confronted with disappointment. I guess most of us wonder why we are not illowed to carry out all our plans to a success- ful conclusion. but if we ever stopped to think vhat. would become of us if we always had 'hings as we wished them, we might .see just 'vhy even the best laid plans sometimes go astray. This is simply fate's way of letting us xnow that we cannot lay plans Without taking ner into consideration Erst. I wonder if you ever stopped to think what life would be like without disappointments and sorrows? We should become unutterably bored 'vith anything pertaining to life and would realize, perhaps for the first time, the reason for these seeming catastrophies. Is it not to nake us understand and better appreciate the ,goys of life? As life is at present we are all adventurers ind explorers, seeking experience, searching for happiness, and many times the very things we a1'e seeking are the things that hurt us the most and cost us the most dearly when We find them. Nevertheless, each experience, Whether harmful or beneficial, teaches us a great lesson in the school of life. We may not realize it at the time, but it is these details that make up our whole existence on earth. A man without experience may be compared to a man without arms. He is caught in the whirl of destiny unprepared for whatever life may see fit to deliver to him. At every turn he is held back by his handicap, the lack of adequate preparation, for this fascinating but bewildering game that is called life. Did you ever turn the pages of a calendar ahead and wonder what the future held for you? It is a decidedly interesting and intrigu- ing thought, but it is not to be built upon definitely for the capricious gods usually decide differently. And after all, who can tell what the morrow will bring? MURIEL Towns, 11-6, sNow-FALL Last night I heard a faint whispering Outside my window-pane. A soft, new sound. I thought, listening. It must be a gentle rain. And I slept again, yet in slumber That soft patter I still could hear Like a broken twig in the ivy, Or a dead leaf fluttering near. In the light of the early morning I arose, and drew aside The curtain. and there before me O'er the landscape far and wide- O'er the trees and shrubs and house-tops, O'er the church towers misty height, O'er all within range of my vision Lay a garment of purest white. And the air was filled with feathers, Mounding the hedge-tops high. From the wings of the downy snow-birds That flew along the sky. Mabel Macdonald. 11-5. RED AND MORE RED Billy and I sat on the pasture fence and chewed grass. There was nothing to do but chew grass. The August sun shone down, strong and bright, the ocean beyond the pas- ture was an unbelievable blue, and the gulls were startingly white against it as they Wheeled and iiashed in the sunlight. They were having a. good enough time, but we weren't. For that whole long day we were forbidden to go any further than the school house simply because we wanted to see, the night before, what Lars Johanneson was doing in Windy Point Cove. lVe had heard that he was engaged in a strictly illegal occupation carried on around the sea- shore, and we were greatly intrigued. What Lars was doing was none of our business, it seemed, and after being rescued from his en- raged clutches by the English gentleman at Wiiidy' Point House, we had been returned

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M A XE 7' 7 OLD MAN RIVER Johnny sat back in his chair, putting on his soothing briar as the radio played Old Man River by his side. The world discon- tented him. Business-! XVorry--I Fatigue-l Louging for a change-! He sat dream- ing of rivers. Marco Polo travelling down Oriental streams to an undiscovered East, tor- rents in central Europe down which the ravag- ing Tartars rushed to the plains, gold seekers and explorers in the new world, Australian creeks in fantastic regions, Himalaya 's eternal flows, Norvvay's mighty fiords, tropical South -Xmerica's unexplored river basins and moun- tain rivers. :xc :X: :E :I-Q: An early morning departure for regions un- known. Buenos Aires. Vp the Parana. Fever, death, rapids. Jaguars, cannibal fish, poisonous snakes. Five men in a boat. Brazil. The headwaters of the Amazon. Three white men and an Indian guide. The Peruvian border. Fertile Andes moun- tain sidcs. Vnknown hills and forests. The roof ot' the world shitting from the Painir to Peru. Four dots on snow capped crests. The making of new boats. Travelling down treach- erous rapids and sucking currents. Mapping, noting, exploring. A sinash on the rocks. Lost instruments. Speed increasing. Turning a hend. A disappearing river. lnto a pitch hlacli tunnel. Through a long passage. The river opening into a valley. A inajestic citv ot' white marble revealing itself. 911 Ili: li? iff lt was a cuiious valley having an ancient loop and reminding one ot' an abandoned dwell- ing place, as indeed it was. The expedition, ol' which -lohnny was a part, was increasingly curious as it saw an enormous stone pipe stretching from the river into a reservoir below, Front the reservoir, a series ol' te1'1'aces ex- tended up a long hill, past the pool, over the valley and up to the city. The explorers were climbing up these ter- races when a flash of light temporarily blinded them. Bewildered. they gazed upwards to where a huge shield, golden yellow in the sun, hung in the city square. They recognized the losf 'ildity of the lVa!'I'iol's, by this shield to o l the sun, so often mentioned in Peruvian legends. Stumbling up well-terraced slopes, the ex- cited party reached a paved street leading to the square. The golden emblem of the emperor scintillated before a pyramid temple, evidently dedicated to the sun. Its whole exterior was decorated with gold ornaments, and gold was everywhere profuse in the buildings. Johnny's little party explored every nook and passage. lt would take a book to reveal all the interesting objects they observed. Pipes, evidently for supplying water and disposing of sewage, lay in the ditches beside the streets. Roadways, having no side walks, intersected at angles to shame most modern cities. The buildings theinselves were slightly modern be- cause ot their occasional second stories and their style ot architecture. An exceedingly valuable discovery had been made il' this hardy band ot' men would be able to find its way out to r.-port it. They seated themselves on a stone wall and inade plans for exploring the city. as excitedly as a crowd ot children, taking souvenirs as evidences, and tor receiving the glory on reporting the find. l,t'l'll2llJN they were too greedy. Things happen quickly in strange places. .lohnny had no knowledge ot' anything out ot' the ordinary happening until something snapped over his head, and he t'elt himsell' dragged ott' the wall. Strange, triuinphant yells rang out around hint. .X great tear seized his heart. XVhat could he happening? The next instant he was trnssed and hound, and the lnlindt'old was whipped front his eves, Ile ln-held, crowdingaround the hound party, as desperate a band ot' lndians as he had ever lllldQllll'tl to exist. XM-re these lncasg' hYll 1't' had they eoine l'ronn .' llad they been isolated here l'or untold agcsf What did they plan to do to the illi1'ttdel'S? .Iohnnv did not have much chance lor rctlee tion as ln- was hurried betore the leader ot' the people. Strangely enough. the latter, as in t'act all ol' the people, had the appearance ot' the dcgradcd town Indian rather than that of the noble lncas whoin he had hall' expected to see.

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M .-l NE home unceremoniously, and the strict bound- aries had been imposed to teach us to keep our inquisitive young noses out of other people's business. Billy put his father 's field-glasses to his eyes and observed that Lars and Philip were having a fight in the side yard. He managed to convey to me a blow-by-blow description till the glad- iators disappeared, a11d once more we sank into silence, chewing our grass thoughtfully. A summer afternoon can be very quiet at times and tl1e only sounds we heard were the raucous laughter of the gulls, the muffled roar of distant surf, and that vague, indeterminate buzzing which seems to be always heard on a hot after- noon. Presently Matilda Jane wandered into our view. Matilda is our sister under the skin be- cause she eats all the time, the way we do. She is known to her intimates as Tilda and she lives a happy life of bovine content always minding her own business. Tilda, said Billy gravely, is a fine ex- ample of getting into a rut and staying there. I looked at him silently-I am used to his mental meanderings. VVhat she needs, he added, ' ' is individuality. ' ' '4You mean, I asked lazily, that she should learn Russian and wear what hair she has in bangs? I was not at all surprised by his statementg his talk was always mildly insane. Tilda, stated Billy, would look beauti- ful in red flannels. This time I was surprised, and disturbed. I stared at him with my mouth open. Don't you recollect that cow in Craw- ford? asked Bill. I saw the light. Oh, yes -but you wouldn't dare! Wouldn 't I, though? replied Bill. Here Tilda, here, I've got something for you! Tilda, all unsuspecting, ambled over, a wide smile on her gentle face. She looked trust- fully at Billy with those limpid brown eyes in a way that might have melted an older heart, but Billy was young and hard. Hello, old lady, said Bill. Here's some hay. She chewed it slowly, keeping her wide and child like gaze on Billy all the while. You go over yonder, Billy commanded me, and get Joe 's red llannels off the line. I opened my mouth to protest, but Billy said: Go ahead, he shouldn't wear 'em in summer. I saw the humor in the situation and grinned as I started off to where Joc's red flannels streamed forth upon the breeze. Billy knelt down in back of Tilda and pre- pared to make her individual. The subject tor should I say victim?j, eontendedly munched hay from my hand until she felt Billy's hand on her leg. Then she immediately became kittenish and sidestepped, her tail catching Billy in the face. He grinned and ducked. and the next recollection I have of the affair was T fl seeing Billy landing some four feet. off with a surprised expression on his face, and a frant ie Matilda tearing 2lU1'OSS the field as though J. pack of wolves were at her hccls. linhappy day! I still remember the hunu.: ol' that moment. Portugee .loe's flannels vvi-we practically strewn across the pasture in a. hull- dred pieces, and even in the excitement- ef' 'l'ilda's rebellion, I thought of Mamie Joi-. What. would she say? I shuddered to thinlc of her wrath. Billy was up on his feet, sg stout stick in his hand, ready for the chase. NVe were off, fast and furious. Tilda, far down the road, raised a cloud of dust like a troop oi' cavalry and then took the path past the fist! houses to t.he harbor. Oh, my g-ollyl yelled Billy. She,ll wrt-1 it the harborlw The first person Tilda met on her rampage was Snooky le Blanc. Snooky came out from behind his father 's boat, a can in his hand, full of rieh, red, paint. Billy shouted a warning and Snooky stared at the oncoming beast With- wide open eyes and mouth. He had no chance to get out of the way and Tilda swept him rdf his feet. NVhen the dust cleared, Snooky pw-- sented a rather gory appearance, for that rief.. red, paint covered his clothes and his face. He shook his fists after us and cursed with Gallic fluency. Here, 'llildaln called Billy. 'tHere, 'I'ilda! called I. But our entreatifrs fell on deaf ears. Tilda swerved to the left. and would pick out a bed of nasturtiums to wreck. She thought she was a bull, I guess and she put her head up and gave vent to her emotions with a sort of over-grown moo. We tried stalking her, but we were surrounded by a shower of uprooted nasturtiums. Tilda now chose a different refuge. She went straight for the Johanneson clothes lines, where the week's wash was hung out to dry, Snowy sheets tiapped tantalizingly in the breeze and Tilda evidently thought. they were waving an her. Anyway, she charged. A day of mis- fortunes! My heart stood still. I looked at Billy and Billy looked at me. Presently 'Filda appeared from under the clothesline. Despiif- my fright I doubled up in helpless laughter. If you have ever seen a cow with sheets fest00i.- ing her horns, you know why. Tilda start-tl at our mirth with wild eyes, her long face peer'- ing out from her veil after the manner of a bride, though a cow-like one to be sure. She whirled around and raced down the litt -e path that led from Johanneson 's to the mam road which was hardly more than six feat wide. On the other side ofthe road was .Iohai - neson's fish shack where fishermen meet to tar nets, paint buoys, talk over the affairs of the nation, and decide how to end the depres- sion. There was a group there now, and the smell of boiling tar mingled rather pleasantly' with the smoke of their ripe.old pies, as their