Providence Technical High School - Review Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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1930 T II E T E C II R E V I E W 83 with jokes and stories. We arrived in the bottom of the ravine in due time. After a few minutes of exploring I sighted a shovel hanging in an oak. We made our way to the spot and there found a sizeable hole in the ground. The earth about this excava- tion was strewn with rotten boards, what had doubtless been a buried box. The blacksmith pointed out several small holes in the vicinity and said that the villian had probably used the rod to locate the casket before he dug it up from its resting place. For some time the affair remained a mystery. Then suddenly appeared in the New York papers an account of the cap- ture of a criminal with a half moon scar on his face. The man had resisted arre:t, it being necessary to batter down the door of his room in order to make him a prison- er. In the corner of this room was found a large chest, and in this chest among other things an oilcloth bundle containing a large amount of silverware and jewelry, identi- fied. the papers said, as the property of several persons living near the little town of Petersberg in Massachusetts. You see the fellow had buried his loot after stealing it and had come back to dig it up again after the excitement had blown over. Why he hadn’t pawned the stuff when he re- claimed it I don’t understand.” “Now I realize that true stories are not made to order, Mr. X.” I said, “but I am afraid I can’t use your story. You see, I expected that silverware was a package of bones. We make it a rule never to dis- appoint a reader. Now, if the silverware had only been bones—” But Mr. X had already picked up his evening paper and seemed quite disgusted because he could not find his place. Traffic Judge, 1950: Wrong side of the clouds, eh?—Fifty dollars and costs.” —Ex. Howard Scholz: “ They say if there is anything in a man travel will bring it out.” Ruth Drew: “You tell ’em! I found that out my first day at sea.” Street car conductor: “Young lady, this transfer has expired.” “Mim” McLaughlin: “Well, you can’t expect much else with the cars so poorly ventilated.” Photographer to most any Senior: “Look pleasant. Miss! One, two, three!—thank you—Now you may resume your natural expression.” TOP HEAVY “ There are times when people who try to reduce should begin at the head.” POME “I eat my peas with honey. I’ve done it all my life. They do taste kind of funny. But it keeps them on the knife.” —Ex. Some eat and grow fat. Some laugh and grow thin. If you don’t like our jokes. Try handing some in. —Ex. You may lead a horse to water. But you cannot make him drink; You can show a Soph his lessons. But you cannot make him think.

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82 T II E T E C II R E V I E W 1030 comply. The scar faced man climbed down from my buggy, took his long iron rod, his shovel and his oilcloth, and commanding me to wait, dove into the underbush. I could hear him fighting his way through the growth. The snapping of dead sticks and the rustle of bushes grew less distinct as he pressed further into the woods. My first thought was to whip my horse and make a dash for it while I was still alive for I verily believed the man a demented murderer who was even now digging my grave. A look at the steep overgrown road ahead of me discouraged this idea as I realized that I could not hope to maintain through this mess, and especially with a fast horse who was not used to my guidance. It was plain to me that I must remain where I was, for to leave without my horse would be pure folly. Thunder rumbled in the distance and water dripped with lone- some patter from the trees. Why had not the stranger taken the train directly for Petersberg instead of going this round about way? What was he doing with an iron rod and a shovel? It must have been twenty minutes before I heard a rustling again in the bushes. 1 he stranger appeared, this time minus his shov- el and iron rod, but in his hand he held a large bundle which I could see was oilcloth gathered up at the corners. The contents rattled as he stepped and reminded me of a lot of boards or metal bars which clanked together when moved. He stood there by the buggy glaring up at me, and I noticed that he was out of breath, as though from some labor. He swung his bundle into the rear of the buggy where it landed with a crunching sound. I trembled with fear. It sounded to me exactly like the crunching of bones. What gruesome remains had he unearthed? He climbed into the buggy and once more seated himself beside me. ‘Now we will drive back to town in time to catch the night train. You see, I play with these things.’ I turned to gaze into the business end of a huge pistol. ‘Of course,’ he added, ‘you will be well paid.’ My return trip was not a pleasing one. We struggled through bushes and young trees eight feet high and I feared I would break my buggy. It was nearly dark, how- ever, and beginning to rain harder. I felt that I would be willing to break half a doz- en buggies to get back to town again. So rough was the traveling that it was with difficulty that we could keep our seats. The stranger’s mysterious oilcloth bundle slid from one side of the rear of the buggy to the other. The stranger himself only made the best of things and hung on as well he might, muttering to himself and twirling his revolver around his extended index fing- er. What, I asked myself, had he done with the iron rod and shovel? It was with great relief that I saw him and his bag of bones aboard the train. I pocketed the five dollars payment and no sooner had the train started than I sprinted to the blacksmith shop to tell my story to the blacksmith. ‘Why yes,’ he said. ‘1 hat fellow with a scar on his face came in here and asked me to make him a long iron rod, pointed at one end and with a handle at the other. He paid me and said he would wait so I set to work. Then, wondering, I asked him why he wanted the rod, saying that if he wanted it to prod stumps he should have a flat point. He turned on me furiously and said, ‘When I paid you to make that rod did I say I would tell you why I wanted it?’ ‘Why no,’ I answered, somewhat taken back, and I went to work on the thing.’ 1 he blacksmith was very much interested in my story. He readily agreed to ride back to the ravine with me on the following morning, that being Sunday. I he return trip did not seem nearly as long nor as difficult. Possibly this was be- cause the blacksmith kept me cheered up

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84 THE TECH REVIEW 1930 After the Primrose Prom By Rosario Di Malleo, ’3 The junior Prom at the Primrose Medi- cal College, had been a great affair. Here it was two weeks after it was over, and still, it was the main topic being discussed on the campus by the students. Hal” Wright, President of the class, claimed that he had had a wonderful time because he met Billie” Moran there, Billie was a co- ed, popular among both sexes. Hal had called on her eight times in the two weeks since the Prom. One evening while Hal was calling at Billie’s house, Mr. Moran entered the room. Billie introduced the two, and they began to converse in a very friendly manner. When the elder man withdrew to retire, Hal confessed his love for Billie and prom- ised that as soon as he received his M.D. degree, they would be married. Hal and Billie had thus become inseparable pals by the time Hal entered his senior year at the medical college. The results of the election of class offi- cers found Hal Wright president and Frank Swain, his bitter opponent, vowing eventual and inevitable revenge. One night shortly after the election Frank, about to leave his house for an eve- ning’s enjoyment, was called into the pa- ternal library. I have a proposition to present to you,” said Mr. Swain, Sr. What is it. Dad?” asked Frank. Well,” continued Mr. Swain, we have in our neighborhood, a very wealthy, and influential man.” Mr. Moran?” questioned Frank. “Yes,” answered the father, and such a person thus gifted with prosperity should not refuse to aid a neighbor, who feels that retirement and some of the luxuries of life. would be greatly welcomed. Incidently my plan would provide a life of leisure for you also. I am aware of the existence of a beautiful daughter named Billie. Your acquaintance with her would be followed by my subsequent meeting with her father, and some accidental misleading tips on the stock market by a well reputed broker, namely, myself; the rest is obvious.” Frank was contemplating deeply. He finally decided, knowing the relations of Billie and Hal, that this presented an op- portunity for the revenge on Hal Wright. O.K., Dad, we shall act accordingly,” said Frank. Frank soon became acquainted with Bil- lie, and he told violent lies to her about Hal. Billie innocently believed them. Hal was mortified on learning that Billie had refused his invitation to the senior ball in favor of Frank’s. 1 he night of the affair Billie looked charming. The gold of her hair blended perfectly with her pale green gown. Hal pretended not to notice her, but whenever he got a chance, he would steal a glance at her. 1 he orchestra began to play an old fashioned waltz, Hal plucked up courage and walked over to where Billie and Frank were standing. May I have this dance with you, Bil- lie?” asked Hal. I'm sorry, but I do not care to dance with a fool,” replied Billie. Billie!” pleaded Hal, ‘won’t you even listen to an explanation?” “No explanations are necessary,” an- swered Billie, and putting her hand on Frank’s arm, they walked away. Hal, burning with rage, was left spellbound. He spent the rest of the evening alone, thinking