Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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30 THE PILGRIM off his cap, threw it to the ground, and trampled upon it. Then, after flexing his biceps so hard that the monstrous, knotted muscles split the sleeves of his leather jacket wide open, he clenched his mighty paws so that each knuckle stood out like a baseball, only twice as hardg and, rushing to the door, with one mighty heave wrenched it off its hinges and charged into the room. There, seated across the room, was the cook in all his splendor, with a spot- less, snow-white napkin tucked under his chin, spreading a freshly-cooked. big, juicy steak Cbarely discernible un- nerneath the lavish garnishing of onionb with a lump of butter about the size of a big brown egg. The facial expression, one of peace and extreme contentment, vanished, and one of horror,-of ghastly horror, took its place. Slowly he pushed back his chair and tugged at his napkiin, his eyes fixed up- on those of the crazed lumberjack, who sucked in his breath like an enraged go-- rilla and advanced, step by step, toward his victim. The tempting odor of delicious steak smothered in onions did not deter him. The hapless cook backed into the cor- ner by the stove, follow-ed by the fiend. Seizing on-e of the red hot stove covers by the holder, the hash slinger hurled it. Mullaney, the iron man, caught it, dashed it through the window, advanc- ing again, his massive hands opening and closing like the business end of steam shovel. The cook, as a last hope, snatched the huge kettel of beans from the oven and dumped it over the head of the infuri- ated wood cutter, fastening the handle down under his granite chin. Mugs Mullaney, man mountain of the lumber camps, passed out like school children after receiving their diplomas. When he came to, some days later, he was informed of the contents of a letter found in the belongings of the cook. who had escaped. The letter, addressed to the cook, read :- Received your shipment of beef and will send immediately Cif not soonerj 500 lbs. of beans. The men can work just as well on beans as on beef, and think of all the money you save! If you get another supply of be-ef intended for the lumber camp, I will gladly exchange it for beans and a rea- sonable cash bonus for your own pocket . . . There is a motley group of Maine lumbermen searching the world over for a scoundrel who fed human beings beans for breakfast, BEANS for dinner, and for supper,-BEANS! Week in, and week out,--beans! beans! beans! And still more beans! ! ! FRANCIS TRASK '34 PRECIOUS TREASURES Upon the steps of time an old man satg And in his skinny hands, he held His whole lifels treasure. For more than four score year and ten He had livedg and tho, his hair was snowy white, He still loved life. His wrinkled brow and trembling limbs Were tokens of his passing life- And old age held him fast. And what had he from all those years- A mighty store of hoarded gold? Nay-treasures more precious far! The memories of a 1ifetime's work, The prayers of many invalids saved, And, best of all, of duty well done! And so he sat-and was content. Tho' ever weaker grew his limbs, His heart was ever strong. H. SURREY '34 JUST THINGS An old pitcher Spilling bayberries from its mouth, Its fat body Tinted rose from the sun. Maple furniture- clean, shimmering In the light, A print or two, Roomy chairs and gaily hooked mats. An India hanging, Mellow blue, green, and yellow, With faint tracings of faded pink. Many colored backs of books, Little china dogs And curiously carved figures, All such dear, precious things I love so well. JEANNETTE MARTIN ,34 CONTRAST Through the darkness of night A torch gleams, Making a path of light Across the water. Ripples slowly creep To the shore From the foamy wake Of the tug. Upon the grimy decks Strong men, Handling the lines, Sweat and toil, Struggling in the dim light Of oil lamps. Everywhere are smoky fumes And filth. LUCY HOLMES '35

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I l fr. 7. ,Y 74- W Ls .ML F THE PILGRIM 29 I f' 1 1 . C - r - xi .S . ii? BOY, PAGE MR. BOSTON Mugs Mullaney, six feet tall, half as wide, and as thick as a London fog, was boss of the McCutcheon lumber camps. For his tonnage of bone and muscle, he was as gentle as a ten-year- old tiger cub. Cln other words, mean and ornery.J As a bully, he had no equal. Compared with him, Nero and Rasputin were babes in arms, while Attila and Genghis Khan were sissies. Now to get on with the story. One brisk, frosty morning in late October a new arrival made his- ap- pearance in camp, a city feller to take the place of the recently deceased Chinese cook. It seemed that this new hash-sling- er, as he was called, had a very limited knowledge of the culinary art. In fact, his only accomplishment was baked beans. For the past few months the lumber- jacks had been fed nothing but rice fwithout raisinsj and, a filthy mess called chop suey. No one would even hazard a guess as to what it contained, but one of the fellows asserted that he was about to take a spoonful of the ob- noxious mess when a half-drowned snail emerged from the murky black- ness and feebly crawled upon a piece of half-peeled potato, rolling his eyes in such a mournful manner that the poor fellow had to leave the table. He felt a peculiar rumbling sensation in his stomach for the rest of the day and swore never to eat Chinese concoctions again. Ah! beans, there was a m0m's dish. A heaping plateful of golden-brown, mealy goodness, smeared with thick, sticky, black molasses. Sick of the Chinese slumgullion, the lumber men consumed huge quan- tities of beans, and became encouraged by the change in fare. Beans were served three times a day for the first week, second week, third week, and for weeks and weeks after- wards. Beans for breakfast, beans for dinner, and for supper, BEANS! BEANS! BEANS! BEANS! The situation became desperate. The men would have! gladly gone back to rice, chop suey, and spinach. Yes, even spinach would have been welcomed as a change from the ubiquitous bean! Mullaney, hearing the grumblings of revolt among his men, stopped in at the cook house for bean factoryb late one afternoon to see what he could do. As his massive bulk thundered through the door, his shoulders scraped on both sides. The cook was standing in front of the open oven stirring beans, the odor of which permeated the room. By this time, most of the men could not endure the sight of beans, and the odor nauseated even Mugs, the bull of the lumber camps. He flung himself into a chair which creaked submissively and nearly collapsed under his great weight. Whew ! he exclaimed, whipping out a big red handkerchief as large as a cat- boat sail and mopping his huge, pers- piring cranial frontage which stood out like the chalk cliffs of Dover, more beans ? Yes, meekly replied the cook with an air of utter dejectedness that would have wrung a salty tear from Momus, beans were the only supplies we re- ceived before the heavy snows, an' beans we'll eat 'til the spring thaw. Mugs Mullaney, summoning his last ounce of strength, staggered to his feet and threw up a window. He re- mained hanging out of the window with his tongue lolling from the corner of his mouth for the best part of an hour. When he had recovered suffici- ently, he pulled his head out of the win- dow, wiped his massive brow again, and lumbered off toward his cabin. Well, the bean diet lasted for five months and would probably have lasted for five more had not Mullaney chanced to meander past the cook house one eve- ning just as the tempting odor of steak and onions was being wafted into the crisp, night air. He halted, turned, directed his steps to the window of the cook house, and peered in. The sight that met his eyes must have enraged him, for he pulled -L

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THE PILGRIM 31 CATASTROPHE One summer evening in the year 1858, as the setting sun was turning to flame the glassy surface of the Caribbean Sea, Captain Thomas Chandler was sitting on the deck of his schooner, the Nancy Chandler, smoking his pipe peacefully. Molly's havin' quite a tussle with that un, ain't she, Cap'n? remarked the fat first mate, Joe Carson. Um, grunted the captain squinting his small, blue eyes and watching the large gray' and white cat dextrously handling a huge, squealing rat with all the art of a Veteran rodent hunter. We sure got well stacked with rats, if nothing else, he went on. By the way, Joe, what became of Molly's kittens? Sold 'em at Jamaica, replied the mate. The natives never see any cats except the ones that come on ships. They never knew they caught rats un- til I showed 'em Molly. The place is swarmin' with rats so I sold 'em right off' for about twenty cents apiece. Say, Cap'n! Just happened to thinkg I reckon We could make- So do I, interrupted the captain quietly, replacing the pipe in his mouth. Six months later in Boston harbor, the Nancy Chandler was being loaded with a large cargo, which consisted, be- sides quantities of New England ex- ports-, of exactly 296 feline specimens of all sexes, colors, ages, and breeds protesting in no uncertain manner at this sudden exile. However, Captain Chandler was giving brisk orders and paying no attention to his unhappy cargo or to the jeering onlookers. During the fifteen days' journey to Jamaica, the ship was a howlin' bed- lam as Joe Carson described it. Pipe down, you screechin' critters l he would bawl lustily as he dealt out their rations of salt fish and water. O'ught to be glad you ain't in with them, Molly. The cats remained in vigorous good health until the last two days of the journey when they apparently began to tire of their monotonous diet. All petered o-ut, I guess, was the way Joe accounted for it. Two hours' after landing at Jamaica, all the cats were disposed of at a. profit of about 35800. Joe was gleeful and the tall, quiet captain was satisfied. However, it was not all smooth sailing. The ship remained in port some time because of bad Weather and because the captain had encountered difficulty in disposing of the rest of his cargo, con- sisting now chiefly of perishable goods, at a price high enough to make any profit. On the sixth day he received the disturbing news that nearly all the cats had died, either from the sudden change in climate or from the change from the diet consisting entirely of salt fish to one of rats-. Furthermore, the natives, believing they had been swindled, were furious, and refused to have any deal- ings with Captain Chandler. By 'this time the cargo was practically unsal- able at any price, and the following day the captain directed that it be 'thrown overboard. Ast he watched seven hundred dollars' worth of cargo splashing into Kingston harbor, Joe remarked gloomily, Net Receipts, 358.C'0. CHARLES COOPER '35 ,i.i.l,.-.- TRICKY ADVERTISEMENTS Once P. T. Barnum said, There's a sucker born every minute. Granting this, we still don't believe enterprising companies should take advantage of the unsuspecting public by misleading ad- vertisements. There are plenty of fair ways of advertising through interest- contests and radio broadcasts. Rarely do we read a magazine or paper but we see an article about a contest, with grand prizes of automo- biles and one hundred dollars, pro- moted by some business establishment for advertising purposes. A good per- centage of th-ese are interesting, worthy of entrance, and fair to all. It is the other part of the group that we criti- cize. We, ourselves, have had several ex- periences along these lines. We no- ticed in a daily newspaper a coupon from a well-known numismatic com- pany offering its rare coin book, giv- ing prices and details about coins upon receiving four cents in stamps for post- age. In return we received a folder of four pages with very brief informa- tion, and an order blank for the real book, which we thought we were get- ting before, at the price of one dollar. There was nothing we could do. Some companies sponsor guessing contests. The person who sends in three labels from the product and guess-es the contest correctly, wins one hundred dollars, while the person who sends in only one label gets less than one hundred dollars. Other concerns offer money and prizes for a name for their new product. This