Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

Page 33 text:

HEINRICH KIDNAPPED )EINRICH Heine Schmidtlein was howling dismally. He had been very naughty in school, so his hard-hearted and cruel teacher had set him out on the schools steps to meditate upon his misdemeanor, after giving him a se¬ vere beating. “Was ist los, sonny? ' ’ said a kindly voice. Heinrich looked up and wip¬ ed his large china-blue eyes. The tracks of his tears were visible over his dirty little face and his yellow hair was sticking out over his head, making him look like a dandelion in full blossom. It was an old man who spoke. When Heinrich found that he was of the same nationality as himself and that the bag he carried appeared to have candy in it, the little boy cheered up somewhat and began to realize that life might be endurable after all. “You come home with me,” said the old man, “and quit the schule. I’ll see that you are treated fine.” “If I come by you, can I have two fried eggs for breakfast?” asked Heinrich. “Ja!” answered his friend, so Heinrich bade a silent farewell to his school, which he hoped never to see again, and set forth with his new found friend. They soon left the residence part of the city and entered the poorer business district. At last they came to a dark (little second¬ hand store. This they entered after strong protests from Heinrich who preferred the delicatessen store next door where many big fat sausages hung in the window. “This is where du bleibst!” said the old man decidedly and pulled Hein¬ rich in. An old woman came to meet them. “Heinrich Strauss!” said she, “where have you been all this time?” “Sssh!” said Mr. Strauss, “here is the little bub you have been wanting so long and for me he can sweep out the store in the morning.” Heinrich suddenly had a pang of homesickness but Mrs. Strauss was a motherly woman and soon was cuddling him in her lap, with a big piece of sausage in his hand. She had long wanted to adopt a little boy and here was one coming from—she didn’t know where. As for her husband— here was the very boy he wanted to run errands. So all three were satis¬ fied. 31

Page 32 text:

THE ENTERPRISE, ’12 ant whistle and the chug chug of the launches as they go or come from the Lido. Now the night has fallen; many lights gleam out over the canal. Sud- enly there is music. It comes nearer and nearer—now it seems under the balcony. It is the music boat, gay with green and yellow lanterns and fill¬ ed with singers and their accompanists. After each song a rain of cop¬ pers falls into the boat from the different windows and balconies. We hur¬ ry down and ask the portier to call our gondolier. “Una centa quarante otto” (148) he calls, and in a jiffy Kenzo, that jewel of gondoliers, is at the steps and we are comfortably seated among the cushions of his boat. In answer to his soft “Where, Mees?” we tell him to follow the music boat; and soon we aie drawn up with a dozen other gondolas alongside of the singers. “Will they sing‘O sole mio’ Fenzo?” “Yes, if the Signorina wishes it,” and presently a clear, sweet tenor is singing that sweetest of all Venetian songs. We have our coppers ready and gladly give all we have when the leader steps from one gondola to another with his hat in his hanf When we return to the hotel. Fenzo says, “Shall I come tomorrow. Mees?” We had some glorious rides with Fenzo. He spoke English in a soft, pleasant voice. When we asked him how he learned it so well, he said, “Out of a book, ' mees.” One pleasant day we went across the Lagoon and past the funeral island to Murano, an island dotted with pink and yel¬ low houses, where the glass factories are. Fenzo remained at our service during our whole visiR|hd took us to the station the day we left. As we stepped out of his gondola, he slipped a card into our hands. On one side the enterprising gondolier had printed a picture of his gondola and Ermenegildo Fenzo, Gondoliere N. 148, Venezia. S. Agnese 750. On the other side he had carefully written “Please recommend me to your friends and to write at my address before to arrive in Venice.” V e did not say Goodbye” to Venice or to Fenzo, but “Au Revoir.” M. C. S.

Page 34 text:

THE ENTERPRISE, ’12 Meanwhile the day had come to an end and the Schmidtlein family were looking anxiously for Heinrich. When the Schmidtlein father came home from work his wife met him with tears. “Heinrich ist verloren:” she sobbed and all of his seven brothers and .sisters set up a chorous of howls. “Wo ist Heinrich ?” they all cried. Consternation reigned supreme for some moments. Finally a bright idea came to the father. “We will go to the school teacher. She will know.” The plan was seized upon eagerly by the entire family and they were soon all running down the street, Wil¬ helm (the dog) leading, and the twins, Johanna and Hans, bringing up the rear. When they arrived at the school, the teacher met them with astonish¬ ment. She had seen nothing of Heinrich since morning when she had sent him out. “I thought he got angry and went home,” she said. The Schmidtelein family were distracted. They rushed through the halls of the school, looking under tables and chairs, but no Heinrich! “What shall we do?” the teacher asked, looking at the father; but after his one bright idea, his head became a perfect blank, and he could only shake it sorrow¬ fully. At last Jacob, the star of the family, spoke up. “He m ust be lost. Let’s go and find him.” So the family set off once more, the teacher watching them from the door. Every policeman was stopped and com¬ manded to give Heinrich up and each time the blue uniformed officer look¬ ed the Schmidtleins over, then turned away, shaking his head, and the wor¬ thy people thought it was on Heinrich’s account that so much emotion was shown. At last they found a policeman who was able to give them more satis¬ faction than the others. He had seen a little boy, he said, walking along with an old man and from his great resemblance to this family he con¬ cluded it must be the lost child. “Right up this street they went,” he said, “and into that store,” point¬ ing to the dark little second-hand store. The Schmidtlein parents thank¬ ed him with tears of gratitude, he kissed Hans and Johanna, and Wilhelm I. licked his shoes. Then they continued their way. Many people marvelled to see this strange family rush up the street and into the little store in which there was hardly room for them all. Mr. and Mrs. Strauss holding fast to Heinrich, who was between them, appeared from the back of the store. Papa Schmidtlein and all the little Schmidt¬ leins immediately precipitated themselves upon Heine, crying “Heinrich! Heinrich!” but mamma Schmidtlein, strange to say, paid no attention to her small son. She rushed into the arms of Mr. Strauss, also crying “Heinrich! Heinrich!” she exclaimed, pointing to Mr. Strauss whose face was wreathed with smiles. “Come all this way from Germany, and I not know it!” “I can not find you at all when I come over,” answered Hein¬ rich, der afte.