Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE (iOLDEN - ROD Fisherman's Luck By Robinson Murray. Two families from different towns were spend- ing the summer camping near a pretty lake in western Massachusetts. In one of the families there was a boy about fifteen years old, and in the other a boy slightly younger. They were both very fond of trolling for pickerel, and in the course of their fishing had become acquainted. So it happened, that on a warm day in the middle of July, the two boys were lying together under a grove of piue trees. “ Well,” said Tom, the younger, “ it would be a hard job to carry a rowboat a mile on an old squeak}’ pair of wagon wheels, even if the pond is full of pickerel. But if we can get your father’s horse tomorrow it will lighten the job considera- bly” “I’ll ask him,” answered Leo, “but I’m afraid he will want to use him tomorrow to go to town- It would be just our luck. I’ll go home and see if we can have him and be around early tomorrow, We can go just the same, even if it is cloudy, because the pickerel will bite better.” The pond of which they were talking, was a small millpond, used in winter, and then left un- used during the summer months. But as no one lived near it, it was fished very little, and the pickerel grew to a very large size. The boys had often been down to the pond and fished from the bank, but the big fish stayed out near the middle, and it was impossible to cast so far. There was an old dead pine tree which hung out over the water, and this was a favorite place for the pick- erel, while the roots were the favorite resort of turtles for sunning themselves. The pond was surrounded by woods, with the exception of the place where the mill stood, and the muskrats had their holes in the bank. The boys had often talked of going there with a boat, but had never at- tempted it. The next morning Leo was back, but without the horse. “It was just as I told you,” he said to Tom, who had come out, “Father couldn’t spare the horse this morning, because he had to drive to town. We’ll have to do the best we can with the wheels. It will be hard work, but we ought to be able to do it. The boys after considerable tugging, got the boat on the wheels and everything in it. “ It won’t take very long,” said Tom, as they started, “this is a good deal lighter than I sup- posed. But when they had gone a little way, it began to grow heavier, and at the end of a short time they had to stop, panting. “ It wasn’t so light as I supposed,” said Tom. “ I guess we have got more of a job than we bar- gained for; anyway, let’s get at it again. This kind of travelling was kept up until they had covered about one-third of the distance, when both boys felt pretty well tired out. “We’ve come this far any way,” said Leo, “and we might as well keep going as to turn back. We’ve past the worst of it now, and the rest will come more easy.” In course of time they came to the edge of the pond, tired, but happy. “Now we can have our fun,” said Tom, with a sigh of relief. After a rest they put the boat in the water and started out to enjoy their fishing. “There,” said Tom, “I’ve forgotten the landing net, but then, perhaps, we won’t need it anyway. I’ll row first, and you can troll for a while.” For two or three minutes they rowed along in silence, when Leo’s line tightened with a jerk and the reel began to hum. “ Stop rowing, Tom,” he cried excitedly, “ I’ve got one.” lie waited a minute impatiently, to give the fish time to swallow the bait, and then gave a jerk. The line came in without resistance. “ There,” said Leo, “ I’ve lost him; that’s a shame. I ought to have let him have it longer; he must have swallowed the bait and then let go the hook. You bet I’ll pull quicker if I get another bite. That fish must have been a beauty.” But Leo’s luck seemed to have gone with the fish he had lost, and not another bite did he get for fifteen minutes; then Leo and Tom changed places. “ I wonder,” said Tom as he took the pole, “what makes the line drag so heavily, it feels as if there was something hanging on the end of it.” “No wonder you didn’t get a bite,” he said as he pulled in the line. “Your hook is all covered with weeds. You must have struck them right after you got that bite. There may be pleuty of large fish iu this pond, but I haven’t seen anything of them yet.” “There, I’ve got one this time,” he said, as he pulled his line in excitedly. “ I can feel him pull.” This time it was a fish, but a very small one,

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THE GOLDEN-ROD Friends of the school who attend the concerts and graduating exercises often think that the pupils seated in the front of the hall compose the whole school. They are greatly mistaken because the chorus consists of less than half of the pupils. If the whole school were seated in the hall there would remain little room for any audience since the whole number of different pupils enrolled for this year is six hundred and seventy-five. A question which has arisen in the minds of the editors several times is what ought to receive first consideration in this period of insufficient accom- modations. The answer that immediately comes is the welfare of the pupils. Quincy should be glad that it has so many boys and girls whose parents desire for them more than a common school education. Its High school should afford them opportunities equal to any in the State. While this does not mean an expensive building it does mean sufficient rooms and equipment so that all can secure equal advantages and have the best opportunities for a secondary education. The con- ditions today are such that pupils can not refer with pride to their accommodations when making comparisons with pupils of other cities. Probably no other place in our State has so outgrown its building and resorted to so many unsatisfactory ways of providing little more than seating room for its pupils. It is often said that pupils are in- fluenced by their surroundings ? What must be the influence exerted by the old building upon the pupils who are forced to attend there ? Can it prove other than a place where careless and un- tidy habits and morals are developed ? Can they and the pupils of the afternoon feel that they are really in the High school and an active part of it when they see and work with none but their class mates, and miss the inspiration of the older pupils in the upper classes ? Can they be expected to do the same quantity and quality of work as their more fortunate classmates and schoolmates of the morning session in the larger building ? It has been said many times by various people with regret, that Quincy is a series of villages and not a real city, that general improvements are made only with great difficulty, and that united action is.not possible. If the whole High school could be brought into one session and one building a great gain in unity would be made, since united action by the pupils of today would mean common action on the part of the city’s coming citizens and this in turn would mean preparation for future concerted action for the general wel- fare of the whole city. As it is now, with the school in three sections, it is not possible to secure hearty support from the whole school of anything undertaken, in athletics, a school paper or a social. The sections of the school not in the main building may be willing to attend base ball, foot ball and other games, but they do not have sufficient interest to give financial support. Leaving out the many reasons which the teachers would doubtless advance for additional room, it seems to us that what we have stated above should lead the citizens to provide what the pupils and teachers merit by the faithful hard work now done in the school—a building large enough to meet the needs of all the pupils at one session. j On the rocks and stumps in Butler’s Pond gather each bright and sunny day many turtles who seem to have nothing to do in life but to enjoy the sun- shine. From the hour when we awake in the morning until long after sunset, the songs of birds greet us from all sides. They, too, apparently have nothing to do but to sing all through the long day. A little thought, however, will show that both must spend much of their time in hard work simply to secure food for themselves and their young, and that their moments of leisure and song must be followed by intervals of work and care. Two useful lessons may be drawn from the turtles and birds by all who wish to live suc- cessful lives:—To work hard while they work so that they may have leisure for enjoying the daily blessings and to be contented with a simple life» which will make them burst forth into song in their moments of leisure. j j School spirit requires that the individual should forget himself for the interest of the school. It means that whatever is worthy for the school to undertake will receive hearty and full support from all the pupils. On the athletic teams the aim of each pupil will be to have in each place the best player and not necessarily the one who wishes the position. That the one who cannot take any active part will give support and en- couragement to those who have greater powers. That at all times the promotion of the general welfare of the school will be sought, even at the expense of the individual.

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THE GOLDEN - ROD smaller a good deal thau the boys had caught from the bank. “ Well, if this is the size we are going to get for all our trouble ’ said Tom, “ I wish we’d either stayed at home, or left the boat and fished from the bank. But then, we’ve only just begun, and we’ve got plenty of time yet. It isn’t twelve, but I begin to feel hungry already. This boat isn’t any too dry, either. Oh, I put our lunch under the seat, and if the water has reached that, our dinner will be pretty well spoiled.”. “ Well, you better find out quick,” said Leo, disgustedly. “ We’ll have to go without our dinner if it has.” Imagine their disgust to find the box floating around in the water and almost everything in it soaked. One sandwich on top had not been touched, but what was that for two hungry boys ? They were both pretty well discouraged. “ I say, let’s go ashore and rest for awhile, and then fish from the bank; I’m sick of this,” said Leo. Tom began to wind in his line, when the pole almost bent double, and the reel began to buzz at a rate that threatened to break the line. Tom lost his balance and almost fell out of the boat. This time it really was a pickerel, for both boys saw him when he jumped, and he was a beauty. Tom played him for awhile, and in a few minutes more the fish gave up and was pulled into the boat. “ Isn’t he a dandy ?” said Leo, as the fish lay gasping and flopping in the boat. “ He’ll weigh at least three pounds, and he’s as fat as a butter-ball. That’s the kind we came here for. I knew there were big ones here if we could catch them. There are so many little herring in the pond that I guess the pickerel have about all they want to eat. Our lunch is spoiled, but I’ll tell you what we can do, we can go ashore and make a fire and cook the small pickerel. It won’t be very much, but it will be something, and he’s almost too small to take home.” They rowed ashore, and Leo collected wood for the fire, while Tom cleaned the fish. The boys were so busy that they did not notice that the sun had gone behind the clouds and the sky was dark. But just as they had started the fire nicely, and the pickerel was about half done, it begau to sprinkle, and in a few minutes it poured in tor- rents. They had just time to grab the fish and run for the old mill to escape a drenching. The fish was hardly worth eating, but the boys ate it with a relish, and with that and the sandwich that had not been spoiled, they had to be content. The storm passed in an hour, leaving the boat and everything in it extremely wet. “I think I’ve had enough of this kind of fishing,” said Leo. “ It’s almost two o’clock now, and with the muddy roads, it will take us a long time to get home. I say let’s quit and start home.” The roads were so muddy that it was very hard pushing, and it was almost five o’clock before the boys got home, and pretty tired boys they were, too. “ I don’t think the day has turned out quite as well as we expected,” said Leo, as he left, but we had some fun, anyway, even if we did have to work for it.” v Crackers’ Luck A STORY OF A BOSTON NEWSBOY. By Clifford Bean, '07. “ Here’s yer evenin’ Herald, five o’clock, full account of the great railroad accident. Herald sir?’ “ Give me a Journal, boy.” “All sold out, here’s the Herald; lastest in.” This man was a stout gentleman, with a heavy gold watch chain and a white vest. He dropped a couple of coins in the hand of the newsboy, who put them into his pocket, while he repeated his cry. The sound was re-echoed at every street corner as far as you could see. “ Most all sold out, Crackers ? ” called out a new boy from the opposite side of the street. “ All but two. Buy me out, Spider, I want to go home this minute. “ Going to the great auction sale on Beacon street, to buy that house, I suppose,” said Spider, coming half-way over to buy the two papers. “No, sir, going the other way. My agent is out of town, and I must make some heavy purchases on Salem street,” which meant that he must go home and buy a loaf of bread at the baker’s, and two cents worth of milk at the corner grocery. The real name of our young friend was not Crackers, but Mike Mulloney. But almost all the newsboys had nicknames, and Crackers got his one day in the newsboys’ alley, while they were wait- ing for the last edition of the Herald. Spider was so-called from his long, awkward legs and arras. He had just sung the latest popular song per- formed in the negro minstrels, with immense ap- plause, when Mike Mulloney mounted an empty beer barrel, and said: “ Feller citizens, if you