Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL LIBRARY Quincy, Mass. THE GOLDEN-ROD Ilis name is Lacey, Pat for short, And whether lie’s in school or not, All he does is talk, talk, talk. From morn till night his tongue does swing, As though suspended on a string. “Mr. Gore, go home.” Mr. Gore, “If I go home, I’ll have to work.” A—“I hear that the senior class is going to have their reception in Music Hall.” B—“How did they do it?” A—“Just as (M) Howe said.” Leathers may have a license to run an auto but who gave him a license to run Room 28. Miss Blanche Morrison is very good at mak- ing Welsh Rabbit, but better still at making Welch dance. A pair of legs, a head, a suit of clothes, that’s all He wears a number thirteen shoe and measures seven feet tall. But as to weight the Hull thing’s mighty small. When one bright student of athletic trend, had signed his name for manual trainii g. he raised his hand and innocently asked. “When arc they going to get a Physical instructor?” MissG—You’re a straight Junior, aren't on Mr M-----?” Mr. M— d—n, (turning rather red), “I I- thought so.” Remember the eighth commandment, Mr. Treasurer. The last scene in the Dramatics showed a great deal of practice. Oh, Mabel? A—“N—s—h ‘09 has a new attraction.” B—“What?” A—“Not a Belgian Hare.” Farewell, Miss Farwcll, Favorite pastime of Curtis, P. G.—Tripp through Merry Mount Park. A—“Mr. H. C—s ‘07 has a new job when lie leaves school.” B—“What?” A—A Barker Miss Souther has changed the end of Poe’s poem “The Raven,” and now it reads, Mr. Gore—never more.” Miss B---to Miss D—wli-st ’09— “Would you like to be a butterfly?” Miss D—“I’d rather be a Miller.” Why does Lacey contrast with the New York National team? Because on the New York team Doyle plays second, and with Lacey Doyle plays first. •A—“I hear ‘Dune’ is fond of steak.” B—“That may be, but he likes Liver-more.”

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THE GOLDEN-ROD his cap and then he muttered: ‘Poor young thing, poor young thing, Just like the Lady Alice. Just like her. A shame, too bad!’ Now what did he mean? Does he mean that I am like my great-aunt-Alice? Lady Alice Thorpe? I don’t see any harm in that I am sure. Her picture upstairs in the gallery is very beautiful. What made Peter speak so? Please tell me. Did he mean my great-aunt Alice?” “Yes, dear, I think he did. She was very, very beautiful and you are growing more and more like her pictures. I do not remember her myself for she died when I was very young.” ‘‘Yes, I understand, but what did Peter mean about it being a shame that I resembled her? “Well. Alice, she died with her husband in the wreck of their vessel which was bound for America, That was their wedding journey and was to have lasted five years. The Lady Alice was mourned throughout the country for her goodness and charity. She was very kind to old Peter’s mother and I suppose that he remembers her. He probably mixes you up with the ship- wreck in his simple mind.” “Now I see. Poor thing. I am sorry too. What else do you know of her?” The old lady smiled with a little glint of mis- chief in her eyes. “Well, dear, there was a treasure of course.” “A treasure? Where? What was it? How did you know? Please explain.” “The Lady Alice, as oldest daughter of the Thorpes of that generation, had a good deal of fine old lace as her wedding portion. When she was starting for the new world, she said to her younger sister, Claire who was my mother and your grandmother T shall leave my wedding lace here at home. It is to valuable to be taken across the sea. I shall hide it here for fun and will disclose its hiding place to you when I return. ‘It is supposed that she did hide it, and as the poor girl never came back, the lace was never found. Plenty of people have hunted for it, dear so please don’t tear the roof down over my head in your frenzy,” for the girl was rushing about the room followed by both the dogs, looking in every corner. “But just think,” she cried, “a lot of lovely old lace. I shall keep up a search for it myself until cousin Harry comes and then he shall help me.” So, two or three months later Alice Thorpe, perched on a bookshelf in the library was scold- ing her cousin Harry for his inattention. “Listen Harry! Can’t you let that old clock alone a minute? I have something of grave im- portance to tell you,” and she went on with her story of the lace. Harry Thorpe was taking out the old works of a great grandfather’s clock, which stood in one corner of the library, and making ready to put in some modern ones. The young fellow was fond pf his mechanical hobby and preferred his present congenial task to that of treasure hunt- ing among the cold,dusty attics and cellars. “That is all very interesting. Alice, but can’ you get a broom or something and get the dust out of the lower part of this clock?” Alice found a duster and put her hand and arm down gingerly into the depths. “Oh how dusty! Why Harry there seems to be a metal handle down here. How strange! I’m going to pull it. Oh! Oh! i ook!” The girl had drawn up a box, an old black box studded with brass nails. Alice’s eyes were shin- ing as she let her cousin take the box from her and lay it on the soft rug. “Could it be, Harry? Oh do you suppose— you know—the laces?” she stammered. “Good girl! It might be. Here, let’s- call auntie first. Look, Aunt Cornelia what do you think of this? May I force the lock? It’s rusty There now Alice as you found it, open it.” The girl,breathless and trembling from excit- ment. sank on her knees and lifted the lid. while Miss Cornelia and Harry held their breath. Therein the satin lined box lay the wedding laces of Lady Alice Thorpe. There were veils, there were collars, cuffs and ruchings, and there were shawls: all yellow from age and musty of odor but still perfect examples of the lace makers art and a portion fit for a princess. The three people stood there in breathless astonishment and admiration. Then Alice looked at her aunt and laughed: “There Aunt Cornelia, I always told you that Harry’s mechanical hobby would be of some use”

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THE GOLDEN-ROD It’s hard luck but the Bouncer has been bounced. Duncan’s motto—“It is better to smoke here than hereafter.” Jasper, was it a faint or a feint? Pratt’s food is nourishing.’ Clipping from the London Times— “Lord Chelsea while visiting America contracted a very trying disease, Chicken-poxdon’t cher know.” “I thought it was a Bee that stung you, and not a hen that pecked you. If the two Pratts in the ‘08 class changed resi- dences, it would be more accommodating to G. E. H. ‘08. He wouldn’t have so far to walk Heard in domestic science—“Bak--er Brown, Helen.” The Murphy brothers are a mighty hot pair. hen you see Hunt and Mead you’ll find them there. English III. K. Don’t forget to keep your windows clean, children, so you can seethepict- ures in Shakespeare’s works. The dignified (?) young gentlemen who have favored us with their presence since the closing of the Adams Academy, say they don’t like High School because the girls are there. BUT you never hearthem say they don’t like the girls. Can anyone explain it? Who are M-----1 Pr- - t’s favorite sons? Tom and John, of course. French II. F. R. ‘10 Translating “I have an inspiration.” Teacher, “What is it?” History IV. Teacher “What event is connected with the railroad?” P. K. ‘08 “The steam engine.” Our Latin teacher is extremely well versed in nursery rhymes; e. g. Ba, Ba, Black Sheep. Three freshman girls think that a curtain in the front door of Room 12 for the benefit of R-b-t C—n—w, would be acceptable. Teacher. “What is the approximate value of T?” Pupil, “Five cents.” It has been reported that a recent meeting at Hough’s Neck was disturbed by some of Mr. Stone’s chemicals. The name of this paper will have to be changed from Harper’s Monthly to Leslie’s Weekly. Strange how a giant like Claflin can be ruled by a “Babe” Heard in 3rd year English—Miss G—“What happened to Caliban, Trinculo and Stephano?” Miss P'—“They were pinched.” Tough, Mr. N--1--H ‘08, but it‘s a cold cold fact Mr Cole is not married. Next year’s foot-ball captain is a mighty man; he wore out the plank walk in four months. Wanted—A letter carrier between room 26 and 23. How A. J. B. does abuse poor Homer! Who is the bubbling, babbling, bounding fellow in No. 29, who seems charged with soda water? If Gladys had her wish, she would never change her name. I wonder How(e). Rhodes would pass for a notorist; always talking of his—Power—and his—-Packard. Frequent trips from Quincy to Wollaston Park seems enjoyable to a short Walker. Tired teacher (near end of period). “Now who can tell me where Rip Van Winkle fell asleep?” Bright youth with slight lisp, ‘09 On the gwath where he laid down.” Two little eyes of brown, what makes them snap so brightly Two little hands so white, what makes them move so sprightly? My muse has gone astray, I know not where she wanders So this must be the account for my poor attempt at stanzas. Blake ‘08.