Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN- HOD I came in, ’specially across the reef. How'd they bite to-day ? ” “ First t’rate, got a good haul of small had- dock and a few large cod, considering the weather an’ all. Got a fine haul of lobsters this morning, best so fur this week. S’pose your still gettin’ good hauls! ” “ No, scarce, scarce as kin be and all small — by the way have you got any bait you kin spare ? I’m rather shy fer to-morrow mornin’, don’t want much.” “ Certain, your welcome to what’s left, I’m going to town to-morrow, so won’t haul till Thurs- day, better stay and have something to cat. Rather disagreeable out.” “ No, guess not, got to go home early. Much obliged. Good night.” When Rufe went to his traps Thursday morn- ing he found only two full grown lobsters in them. His good fortune of previous weeks had changed, but he lost no time in complaining. Instead, at low tide, he rowed cheerfully across the cove and dug clams enough to equal his loss of the morning’s haul. Continuous clam digging was fatiguing work even for Rufe,who was trained to it by years of hard experience. So he retired early and slept soundly through the long cloudy night. Again the next morning Rufe hauled only to meet with the same result; so he piled all the pots in a boat and dropped them on a smaller ledge about a quarter of a mile up the shore. As this change brought no better success he took them back to the old ledge, never discouraged, but rather puzzled by this sudden and complete change in his lobstering. One week passed, each day of which came and went with empty traps. Monday night the moon shone strong and bright from a clear blue sky, sending its silvery rays across the little cove. From the door of his hut Rufe could plainly see the ledge where his useless pots were lying. Here he sat till late into the night meditating upon his lobster problem. When Rufe rowed across to the ledge in the morning a happy sur- prise was in store for him. Nearly every trap had a good catch. Two more days came with almost the same success. This aroused his sus- picions. In the afternoon of the third day black clouds arose from the west, hiding the sun and making the evening dark and thick. After sup- per Rufe sauntered along the beach, around the cove and out to the extremity of the point. Here he found a hiding place behind some old rails of a long broken-down fence and waited. At half past eleven he was suddenly aroused from a half doze by a slight splashing and rippling of the water. Looking towards the reef he saw in an instant the answer to his lobster problem. The following night he was at his post on the point, this time clad in swimming apparel with a large ulster thrown over his shoulders for protec- tion against the evening dampness. When eleven o’clock came he was wide awake and watchful. At last, across the sound he perceived a black speck coming rapidly towards the point. Taking a log from the fence he plunged into the water, pushing it in advance as he gracefully swam towards the ledge. Near a lobster pot that was located on the edge of the ledge he stopped swimming, resting lightly on the log. The water was cool but Rufe did not notice this in his anxiety about the black speck that was rapidly approach- ing the pots. When this speck had reached the first pot he recognized the fisherman’s dory and its one lonely occupant. One by one the pots were hauled and emptied. Gradually and silently the dory approached the pot where Rufe was waiting. The critical moment was near. He must not be discovered. Two strokes under water brought him up under the protecting shadow of the overhanging stern of the dory, while the thief was hauling the last trap. This completed, the thief sat down to the oars for retreat. Before he could take a stroke Rufe plunged through the water, grabbed the blade of the port oar, threw his entire weight upon it, and with the gunwale as a fulcrum hurled it off into the darkness. A quick plunge under water brought Rufe up on the other side where he found the other oar floating on the water where the thief had dropped it in his bewilderment. The wind was now blowing quite hard and the bewildered thief was drifting helplessly toward Rufe’s hut. When the dory grounded on the smooth beach Rufe was there to receive its occupant. With knitted brows and lowered head, Peter West walked sullenly up the beach under the guiding influence of Rufe’s double barreled shot gun.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD which follow, upon having new quarters to occupy next fall, supplying that long felt need of room, and containing many improvements. And we wish to thank the citizens of Quincy for obtaining this addition which means so much to the future citizens of this city. J v J School spirit may be shown in many different ways. Many of us are extremely careless in the untidy condition of the basement, and some of the desks. Paper and miscellaneous articles are thrown at waste baskets in haste, instead of into them. This untidiness shows lack of thought on the pupil’s part, which should be overcome. We can show our school spirit in one direction by taking good care of the building, and of its interior. «3 «3 3 A good school library is something that would be greatly appreciated by the pupils and teachers of the school. With the new building comes the prospect of a much needed room, which may be devoted to reference books alone. In the pre- sent condition of our school, the pupils who wish to make use of encyclopaedias and general refer- ence books, are obliged to go to Room 3, where there is always a recitation. Of course, the con- stant flow of scholars, going and coming, some- what disturbs the class which is in progress, and those using the books cannot do so much as if the room was perfectly quiet. So cheer up, you studious ones, don’t lose courage, for the new school and library are coming! The teacher asked, “ What is space?” The trembling student said, I cannot think at present But I have it in my head.”—Ex. Query : What cause impels the diminutive schoolboy to hasten forward so rapidly, as if seeking some object before him? Answer : The bell of the school. Query : What cause impels the large High School boy to hasten forward so rapidly as if seeking some object before him? Answer : The belle of the school.— Ex. Rufe Anderson’s Thief. By Roy Given, ’07. Rufc Anderson was a young fisherman, tall, broad-shouldered and powerful. His red, weather- stained, but bright countenance beamed down alike on all with honesty, pure and simple, written on every feature. For this reason he had gradu- ally become disliked among the fiishermen of that vicinity, men who were less firm in their moral principles. Consequently he became the victim of many unkind tricks as he met them in his daily round of fishing, but these he bore bravely, more than ever determined not to give in. He lived in a solitary hut built against a cliff on the edge of a large green cove that extended majestically into the land and out again, as if once upon a time the angry waters had swept against the land in a rage, and had torn away the earth. Its graceful curve terminated in a long and sandy point about opposite Rufe’s shanty. Off this point upon a small ledge of rocks Ruf had set his lobster pots as a temptation for the fish that crawled slowly about the kelp-covered rocks. Ever)- morning bright and early, before the sun had barely risen above the trees on the island across the sound, Rufe rowed over to the ledge, hauled his pots and took out the unfortu- nate victims. For the past two weeks he had been getting fine hauls from his pots, which, with his other fishing and clamming, kept him busy from sun- rise to sunset besides increasing his income to an amount far above all previous records. Every- thing ran on smoothly and prosperously and Rufe went about his wrork in foul and pleasant wreather cheerfully and happily. One wet, foggy afternoon when he returned from his day's fishing, tired and wet, he found a fisherman w-aiting on the beach for his return. It w-as Peter West, a small middle-aged man, w-ho lived across, on the island. This seemed rather queer, for Peter had not been very cordial of late and very seldom came to the cove. Never- theless Rufe gave him a hearty welcome and in- vited him inside out of the wet. “ Rather nasty outside this aft’noon, Peter, for small craft.” “ Right ye be, sea’s runnin, pretty high when

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TITE GOIjDEN - ROD The Mysterious Voice By Isabelle Chute, '08. “ O Grandma won’t you please tell us a ghost story ? ” asked little Ross. “ Yes, please do,” chimed in Harold, Tommy, and Jinna. “Of couth, you’ll tell uth a ghoth thtory, won’t you Gammic ? ” said little three-year-old Margaret in a most persuasive voice. We were all seated around the open fire- place. The pine logs were burning cheerfully in spite of the wind which was roaring like a lion and the rain beating hard against the house. I suppose the dreariness of the night was upon the children and they wished something to excite them and keep up their spirits until bed-time. “ Very well, then, I’ll tell you about a ghost I saw myself. I was about sixteen, I think, just about Harold’s age.” “ But Gammie what ith a ghotht ? ” asked Margaret. Suddenly a voice, loud and hollow, spoke from a dark corner of the room. “ A ghost is a person just like you who has departed from this life Sometimes it comes back and visits those who have done any wrong to it.” The children were startled by this unlooked for answer and little Margaret clung to her sister as if she feared the sound would carry her away. “ Oh Grandma! what is that noise ? ” asked Tommy in a very frightened manner. Again the voice in the corner answered, “ I am the ghost which your grandmother saw, but none of you can see me now.” There was a silence and no one broke it. The voice continued, “You cannot behold me be- cause that fire on the hearth is very bright and because seldom can mortals gaze upon us spirits. I heard your grandmother say she was going to tell about me, and therefore I have come to tell my own story.” “ Long long ago when I was a human being your grandmother was my most intimate friend. We played together when we were little, started to school together and never quarrelled so badly as not to make up next day. At school we averaged about the same in our studies. One day an announcement was made that a prize would be given for the best essay on ‘Julius Caesar.’ Your grandmother and I tried for the prize. She won it, but not because she was smarter than I. We were supposed to read up our points and then write from memory, but your grand- mother kept her papers in sight and so was able to write the longer paper.” “ When I learned that she had cheated I told her that I knew it. We had angry words and parted. In a short time my life on earth ceased, so that she never saw me again in any form until the time she had intended to tell you about. I did not mean for her to see me then but it was unavoidable. It was about nine o’clock in the evening and the moon was shining brightly. She was sitting underneath some trees which overlooked a small brook. This brook ran be- hind both of our houses. I thought that she looked sad. She must have been thinking about our early days when we used to play in the brook and make mud-pies, for she looked up longingly towards my room and surprised, saw me standing in the window. I had been watch- ing her from the middle of the room but in my eagerness to see her more clearly I had stepped to the window. The reason why I had been in my room was that I had a longing to see my old things once more and so had come back and had taken a visible form for the time being. “Seeing me your grandmother screamed and fainted away. Her mother came running out to sec what had happened. When she was revived, she was asked why she had fainted. All she was able to say was, ‘ Mary’s ghost! Mary’s ghost! ’ and pointed toward my room.” Here the voice stopped and we could hear a hollow sound as if the ghost might be calling softly to the friend of her school days over this remembrance. The children were more frightened than ever. “ I became invisible immediately and no one has ever seen me since then. I suppose you wonder why I am here now. I heard, no matter how, that a prize was offered for the best essay on ‘Abraham Lincoln.’ I heard also that the grandson of my old chum was trying for it. I thought that if he had any of his grandmother’s ways I had better warn him. Good-night. You know ‘ forewarned is forearmed.’ ” There was a faint rustling and a silence. The children had become so frightened that they could not speak.