Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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

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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 want ter get rich, don’t try ter be honest. Gentle- men look at me. I came ter this ’ere city barefooted and ragged, now look at my good clothes ! ” They consisted of a pair of his father’s trousers, cut down, and a patched shirt, while his bare toes stuck through a pair of ragged shoes. “I didn’t get them by being honest, I was so poor, then, feller citizens, that I hadn’t a cent in my pocket, now its full of ’em.” Here he jingled a half a pint of coppers. “ But I didn’t come honestly by them —no-sir-ee, I got ’em government contracting. I say, feller citizens, I was so poor that I lived on one cracker a day; now I dine on turtle soup at the Parker House.” When he said that, they tipped over the barrel and he spoiled his good clothes by falling into the mud. There was more truth than fancy in poor Mike’s story on one cracker a day, for once, when his mother, who was never strong, was too sick to work, the family were reduced to one cracker apiece. If the newsboys had thought there was any truth in it, they would never have called their friend “ Crackers,” but would sooner have made up a purse for him on the spot. As soon as he had sold out to Spider for two cents, he started on the run for home—if the dark musty den in a miserable alley off Salem street, could be called a home. His mother, who was sick with a headache, had her head tied up. “ Here is some money, Mike, just tell the grocer to send me two ounces of the best tay, and some bread and a little sugar.” “ Take away yer money,” replied Crackers, “ haven’t I a pocket full of the same, as a man should have that has a family to support? ” The boy threw down a large handful of cents on the table. “ Don’t touch ’em, Pat, you rogue,” as his young brother made a dash at the pile, “ here’s one, a bright one I’ll give ye, and I’ll take ye along to buy a stick o’candy. Hold on, me boy, let’s have another look at it,—Gold, by cracker! ” he cried. “ Indade it is that, Mike,” said his mother, ex- amining it. “ Five dollars. Hooray! Let’s all go up to Copeland’s to ice cream and oysters. Come on, Pat.” “ But where did you get it, Mike ? ” said his mother. “ How should I know who ’tis that throws gold bits round in such a fashion? Somebody gave it to me for a cent, just as I did to Pat. What? I saw the old feller give me a new cent, with a watch chain as big as yer finger and a white vest. lie won’t miss it.” “ Well, if you keep it, you will grow up to be a thief. You should carry it around in your vest pocket, and when ye see the man again, just ask him has he missed a pocket-piece.” Mike was earning money bravely now, and many comforts found the way into their house through his hands, but he and his mother said little about the schooling that he was missing and about which he felt badly. About a week after the discovery of the gold piece, somewhat to his disappointment, he saw the “ Old Fatty ” coming down the street. “ Have a paper, sir, Journal, Traveler and Herald?” He shook his head. “ I bought one of you the other day, I dare say, but I just bought one up the street,” said the man. “ I think there was some mistake about the change. Did you miss a gold piece ?” “ Why, yes, Nelly’s five dollar gold piece, that her uncle sent her from California. I went to the jeweler’s the very next day to have a pin made of it, and no gold piece was to be found.—Just my luck ! I must have given it away to some rascal for a cent,” said the old gentleman. “Well I guess not, mister, you gave it to a gentleman, and that’s me, sir, and here it is. Here’s yer evenin’ Herald, Journal and Traveler.” “ Look here, youngster,” said he, walking around to him to attract his attention, “ What shall I give you for your honesty?” “ Nothing at all. I don’t ask a cent for being a thief. It’s your luck you fell in my way, sir. Next time you throw round yer gold pieces, see that yer among honest fellers, like me.” “ What can I do for you?” replied the old man. . “ Well, if you insist upon it, give me your card, sir, and I will sell you a paper at your office, if it’s, on my beat, sir.” “ Confound the little rascal,” thought Mr. Wales, for that was his name, “ how does he know I have an office instead of a store. Call about five o’clock tomorrow, at----Tremont street,” he said to Mike. “ All right sir, have a paper? ” The Old South clock was striking five when Crackers entered Mr. Wales’ office the next day with his papers. “ Journal? ” said he. “How much money can you make a day? What is your name?” asked Mr. Wales.