Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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10 The Golden Rod THE STORY OF THE SUGAR MAPLE. The great King had finished making the world, and the birds, the flowers, and the trees were choosing their homes. All the birds chose the air, all the flowers the fields, but each tree chose the home where it thought it would be the most happy. The willow went to the mountain brook to shade its banks. The silver birch together with its friend, the basswood, went to the lake side. The pine, the spruce, and the hemlock chose the sides of the lake mountain, for they were vain trees and wished to be admired by all. There was one tree, however, which had not chosen a home. It was the maple. Far away from the lake, there lived an- other mountain. When he saw his friend, the lake mountain, so beautiful, he wished to beautify himself, too. So he called to all the trees, “Come and make your home with me.” The pine, the spruce, and the hemlock murmured. The willow drooped a little nearer the brook, and the birch and the bass- wood nodded their heads together. Each said, “I am too happy where I am.” But the little maple thought, “If the great moun- tain would only let me come,” and finally said, “Dear mountain, will you let me make my home with you? I am neither so beauti- ful nor so useful as the other trees, but will do my best to make you happy.” “Let you?” cried the mountain, “I shall be contented and happy if a dear little tree like you will come to me.” After many months the great King came to visit His children. He praised each for its work, and when He came to the maple, He said, “You of all my children have served Me best, for you have sought to give happiness to others. I will make you the most useful and beautiful of all trees.” So He gave the maple a sap for which men seek, and when fall comes and He turns the leaves yellow, red, and brown, it is the most beautiful of all trees. Priscilla White, T7 WHICH ? “Jack” Sheridan, captain of the Need town College baseball team, had finished his last game of “ball” for the season, and probably for life. They had beaten their great rivals, Hammond College. His teammates were in the dressing-room, singing, whistling, danc- ing jigs and everything else to express their joy, while “Jack,” the captain, who should be the happiest, was gloomier than the defeated team. Why was he gloomy? It was a reason that only “Jack” and his father knew. This was his senior year and it would not be very long before he would have to go out into the world to earn his living. He dreaded the thought, but he must go and make his name. He thought back and remembered when he was a “Soph”, and had made the varsity team. He remembered the great quartets, trios, duos and solos they used to have after a game that they had won; the towel fights and the “duckings” they had, fully dressed, under the shower for the sake of fun and sport. The hazing of the “Freshies,”— how well he remembered all this. He had written to his father asking him if he could stay for a post graduate course. But his father answered in his letter and how well he remembered those words: “Do you want to be a milksop all your life? If not. go out into the world and make your name.” He finished dressing and left the locker room. In a few days he received his “Sheep- skin” and started out to make his living and NAME.

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The Golden-Rod 9 possibility that this mighty man can set him free comes to his mind as often an idea will, when one is driven to utter despair and lie will grasp it and cling to it until, as impossible as it may seem, it will often materialize. So with determination Von Hohenlohe grasps this one and with pen and ink he writes and rewrites a letter which he intends to send that evening by Achmct to the Emperor wherever he may be stopping within the city. It reads thus: To your Imperial Highness: I, your humble servant, am imprisoned here at this city for the excavation of a mummy taken in behalf of the University of Heidel- berg. and for an attempted escape after im- prisonment. Could your majesty consider such a thing as a compromise with the offi- cials? Your loyal subject, Max Von Hohenlohe. He passes the note that night to Achmet through the bars and gives him instructions as to where he shall most likely find the Emperor and how he shall gain permission to have the note presented to him. CHAPTER V 44No. 54, at the end of the corridor and your name, sir?” questions the guard at the gate of the prison. “Oh well, I guess for the occasion Hohenlohe will do,” replies a tall,dignified looking per- son, handing his card to the guard. Re- moving his cork hat he enters and makes his way to the end of the long row of prison cells. “Von Hohenlohe? Am I right?” he asks of the prisoner. “Oh, yes, Your—Your Majesty,”—struck with awe upon finding himself in the pres- ence of the Emperor. “I shall ask of you in the first place, Von Hohenlohe, that you reply to my questions briefly as my time here is limited and further- more I do not wish to be recognized by the people if I can avoid it. “In a report that I received from the University of Heidelberg a few months ago I recall a statement concerning your journey here and its purpose. If you have committed no other crime than to excavate a mummy I think that I shall be able to persuade the officials here to free you. I leave it to your cleverness, though, to get the mummy to its destination as I am aware of its priceless value to that University. Now may I ask if it was a Scarabaeus mummy that you un- covered. “Yes, Your Majesty, and in perfect con- dition. It is now hidden at Alexandria.” “Have patience and I think that I can se- cure your release.” With a motion that it was time to depart, he closed his remarks by say- ing that he wished Von Hohenlohe would send word to Potsdam to him informing him of his luck, and he strode down to the prison gate where a carriage was waiting. On the following day when the prison gates were thrown open, a man holding in his hand a scroll stamped with the imperial black eagle as sign of the approval of the Emperor stepped out into the street, where he was met by another man in native garb and together they walked to the banks of the Nile, where they boarded a dahabeah bound for Alexandria. Through the crowd at the Alexandria dock pushed two men, one an Egyptian, the other a European, followed by a donkey cart bear- ing a large box marked for the University of Heidelberg, Germany. It was hoisted a- board a large German liner. The whistle shrieked the signal that all was ready for departure. The German clasped the hands of the Egyptian and with a smiling farewell, hurried up the gang plank. A moment after- wards it was lowered and the great ship slow- ly plowed through the white foam, growing smaller and disappearing in the blue expanse of sea. Frederick F. Johnson.

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The Golden-Rod Pres. J. K. Sheridan sat at his desk in his private office. He was the head of one of the greatest construction companies in the world. He had risen from the rank of an engineer to the head of the company. He was always faithful to his employer and did not waste a minute. Now, he could afford to waste some time after making his name. He took a letter up from his desk which had familiar writing on it. It was from his son, asking him the same question that he had asked his father thirty years before. His I I son was in his college and was a far better athlete than he had ever been. He thought and thought. Should he let his son enjoy his life while he was young? Or should he make him go out into the world as he had done? Finally he made up his mind. He took a piece of writing paper from his desk and wrote.—That is for you to find out, reader. Which answer did he send his son—the answer he had received from his father, or the simple word, Yes? W. E. Mullen, ’17 WHEN THE ANIMALS ESCAPED. Grandpa Seeley sat on the front porch with his rheumatic feet carefully encased in roomy carpet slippers. William Seeley was hunched on the steps below, busily littering them with pink skins from a pan of new potatoes. It was high noon on a June Saturday and the street was swept clean of all other inhabitants, even boys and dogs. From distant Main Street the rollicking blare of a steam calliope announced the arrival of a mammoth circus, with fifty big acts and forty splitting clowns, as the flaming posters had been announcing for some time. William Seeley went on peeling his potatoes with the desperation of a vivisectionist. Grandpa eyed his efforts with mixed severity and pride. “Keep them skins off the steps, Willum,” he admonished. “I ain't going to flop into the rose-bush again.” The riotous calliope cut off his reminiscence. “Circuses is circuses,” Grandpa Seeley re- sumed, “and always will be circuses—only the lions get mangier and less ferocious and the bareback gals, in spangles, get fatter an’ more human-like as we get older.” Distant sounds of cheering rent the air, and Grandpa Seeley stopped to listen. “You recollect that old lion-skin sleigh- robe, Willum,” he went on determinedly, “and how your pa said I had skunned it off a man-eatin’ feline in Africa?” Grandpa snick- ered. “Well, it wan’t so. I bought it in Oil City, and it came near swallowin’ me once, boots and all. “Your pa was a boy at the time,” Grandpa went on, “and the circus was cornin’ to town, just like to-day, on a special train. The station agent, in the excitement, had forgot to flag the down freight. They met—the freight and the circus special—an’ the freight walked through the circus train, animile cages an’ all. “The first thing Independence knowed a- bout it was a flock of kangaroos, hoppin’ an’ skippin’ up Main Street. They was followed by chatterin’ monkeys, baboons, and lions. “On account of them having thought that I had shot that African lion, they all of them rushed to my house an’ gathered around me. Your grandma and pa had come up to the kitchen, where I was and were trembling with fear. “Pretty soon your pa slipped out, but so quietly we did not notice him. I took your grandma by the arm and we walked to the outside door and flung it open. There, ready to spring, within six feet was the man-eatin’ lion. “I shut the door softly and turned the