Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD Dick’s Dream. By Caro Sumner. During Mr. Crawford’s convalescence from a long illness, his small son, Dick, had appoint- ed himself “father's head nurse.” and when his physician prescribed an entire change to complete the recovery of his patient. Master Dick deemed it essential for his father's safety that he should accompany him. It was there- fore decided that the invalid should carry out a long cherished plan of visiting European scenes. It seemed to Dick, whose eight years had been spent in comparative quietude, that he was to he the principal actor in a long fairy tale. One evening, after a journey of several weeks through Germany, they came to a little village nestling among the mountains. In the quaint little inn the tired travelers were made very comfortable, and Mr. Crawford, much im- pressed by the beautiful scenery, determined to rest here some weeks. They spent many happy days exploring the wonderful surround- ings. An attractive playhouse for Dick was the pretty garden of the Inn. It was bordered by a thick hedge of tiny trees planted closely to- gether and was filled with little flower beds made in all sorts of queer shapes. Then, too, there were low benches where he would often lie and sleep away a long afternoon or sit and look up at the gray rocks heaped in imposing masses above him. And happy was he when the little old landlady would come and sit by him in the twilight and tell him wonderful stories of the fairies who fled to the surround- ing mountains when the great Emperor Charle- magne banished from his kingdom all fairy people. He lay, one evening, under a broad linden tree that grew in the garden, watching his hostess as she went about her evening tasks. From a distant hamlet, borne on the even- ing wind, came the sound of a sweet-toned bell, and as Dick lay looking up into the tall linden above him. it seemed that the leaves were keep- ing time with the soft intonations. The flowers, also, seemed to nod and wave and as Dick looked at them more closely, little forms Iwgan to emerge from among their golden stamens. In a moment the garden was filled with tiny, dancing creatures, while in their midst sat one who seemed to be their Queen. Dick hardly dared to stir, and all the time the little elves kept up a most fantastic dance. Suddenly they stopper! and Dick could hear only a faint murmuring of their silvery voices, and the rustle of their wings, lie knew that the fairies had discovered him. They hesitated for a moment and glanced instinctively toward their Queen. She was looking at Dick intent- ly. so intently that he hardly dared breathe. Suddenly she spread her silvery wings and in a second was at his side. She spoke in a low. sweet voice which was. nevertheless, command- ing : “How came you here?” But Dick was too much frightened to answer, and the fairy queen continued. “I know you have been sent by the cruel King with the Iron Crown, to spy upon us. He has banished us from his kingdom and we have found refuge in these flowers. But not satisfied with this, he must follow and persecute us. We are now more powerful than either you or the one you serve; we can never allow you to return to your cruel master, for you would tell him of our hiding-place. You must die.” And at a sign the little elves rushed upon him with their tiny spears and struck sharp thorns into his fingers until Dick cried with fear. ' ‘ I am not a spy. neither do I serve Charle- magne.” he sobbed. “I am only staying here for a short time with my father, and have read so much about you that I have longed to see what you were really like.” When the little army realized that he was no enemy, they put back their spears and dag- gers and their faces assumed a more friendly aspect. Dick, noticing this, took courage, and continued. “Tell me. are all the things that I have been reading about you. true?” One old dwarf who seemed to be a leader in the band, answered, “Many things are true, but others are not. There is one story which the peasants about here do not know and that

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THE GOLDEN - ROD Albert Winslow Prescott. “He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.” — Lamb. Ralph Leonard Robinson. “Whilcst that the child be young, let him be instruched in virtue and lyttcrature.” —Lily. Helen Almy Sayward. “A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.” —Tennyson. George Valentine Shiri.ey. “A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks, A dreamy boy, with brown and tender eyes.” — Whittier. Eugene Oakland Smith. “In general, those who have nothing to say, Contrive to spend the longest time in doing it. —Lowell. Rathburn Eaton Sprague. “Behold the child, by nature’s kindly law, Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw. — Pope. Myron Richmond Stebbins. “I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Among the swains to show my book-learned skill.” —Goldsmith. Rose Eleanor Sullivan. “Red as a rose is she.” —Coleridge. Walter Arnold Sutkrmeistek. “There’s mischief in this man.” —Shakespeo re. Nellie Estella Tallman. “Sighed and looked unutterable things.” —Thomson. Harold Thomas. “Like two single gentlemen, rolled into one.” —Coleman. Persis Anna Thompson. “O’er rough and smooth she trips along And never looks behind.” — Whittier. Etta May Thurber. “I am always in haste, but never in a hurry.” — Wesley. Anna Tinglof } Elvira Tinglof f “They are like each other as two peas.” —Swtft. Minnie Jane Travers. “Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned.” —Marlowe-. Eric Daniel Wallin. “Why should a man whose blood is warm within Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? ” —Shakespeare. Rebecca Florence Warshaw. “As merry as the day is long.” —Shakespeare. George Bennett Weston. “My only books were woman’s looks, And folly's all they’ve taught me.” —Moore. Lizzie Mabel White. “I cannot check my girlish blush. My color comes and goes.” —Kipling. Elsie Woll. “The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.” —Shakespeae. O. P. A. ’07. o j o» Wanted : In Room 21, another desk for Mr. Thomas’ books. Wanted : Some matches in the Physical Lab oratory. Wanted : For English IV' C, a book of long vowel verses. Wanted : Appropriation for a whistle for G-----W------in French III Here’s a toast to Mr. Hall, Who sometimes thinks he knows it all. Advice from others he doth spurn, But “there are others”—he must learn Here’s to those who go to school, Thinking that’s the place to fool ; If they soon do not get wise In June there’ll be a big surprise.

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THE GOLDEN- ROD is, that every spring we make a journey up into the mountains, and there we work for many days touching the trees, flowers and streams to bring them all back to life again. It is the best fun of the whole year. Perhaps you would care to come with us sometime and watch us at our work.” But before Dick could reply, the Queen bade them return to their flowers, for they had spent too much time already, talking to their new acquaintance. So, quickly as they had come they were gone, and when he had watched the last silvery wing vanish, he was startled by a voice calling his name. He sat up. and rubbing his eyes, saw the landlady standing in the doorway. She beck- oned to him and lie slipped down oft the bench and started slowly up the narrow garden path that led to the door of the Inn. lie looked closely at the flowers but they said never a word. Instead, their eyes were closed tightly. When he reached the door, the good lady said. “My child, your father is waiting for you in the dining room. Your supper has been ready for you for half an hour, but you looked so happy sleeping, that I did not like to waken you.” Dick went in. through the narrow hall and on to the dining room. When he entered, his father looked up from the paper he was read- ing and said, “Well. son. did you have your sleep out? I saw you curled up in the garden and thought you had better sleep. But now sit down and eat your supper, for it is late.” Dick was unusually quiet during the meal and only once did he speak. Then he said. “Father, are there fairies out in the garden?” His father looked up, surprised at this question, and said, “Why. I am sure I don’t know. Are there?” With this as an encouragement, Dick re- lated the experience he had had and his father «ave his closest attention. When he had fin- ished he said gravely. “Well Dick, perhaps you are right. There may be fairies out there but the idea had not occurred to me before. We will look tomorrow, however, and see if we can see them. But now that your supper is finished, you had better go to bed.” The Postman’s friendship. By Ella F. Packard. The postman of the little village of X— whistled merrily as he went up the path to a small white cottage with a green, well-kept iawn. He never used to whistle, but now a little boy was there, who always hobbled out on his crutches to get the letters. “Sure an there he is!” suddenly cried the mail-carrier, as lie caught sight of the little figure swinging down the path as quickly as if he were not lame at all. As the boy came near, the man called out jestingly. “Arrah, now, and do ye think ye’ll be afther geetn’ a letter from me this day whin ye took yer lave from th’ house so quick without a hat?” “Oh, yes, Pat. answered the little one saucily, “be- cause you would write one yourself if Mama didn’t send me one.” “Arrah. and ve’ve got the impident tongue on yez ter answer yer swate-heart like tliot, Harry me boy. An’ how does ye know that I writ yez a bit of a letter, at all. at all?” “Why, you write like you talk!” exclaimed the little boy. looking up at the tall Irishman quickly. “An’ it’s a mighty poor way, to be sure.” the latter answered rather shamefaced- ly. “but as ver mither is too busy in th social aft airs of th’ world ter care for yez. I t’ought ye wudn’t mind if I tried ter cheer yez up a bit. whilst ye was getting well here. P’raps ye wudn’t be afther wantin’ the letter I writ in th’ office this mornin’. thin?” “Oh. Pat! of course I want the new letter. You make such funny pictures and say such funny things in them.” So Pat took from his pocket a large en- velope and gave it to the little boy. “Oh! what a nice big one! “Harry cried, “can I read it right now?” “Sure, but I'll have ter be laving yez. An’ here’s the Boston paper for th’ old man an’ his wife. Ye’ll be givin’ it to tliim whin ye go in. Goodbye.” He .turned and went quickly down the street. Then the little lame boy was left alone. He opened his letter smilingly and read, laugh- ing at the queer characters. But suddenly he