Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Text from Pages 1 - 36 of the 1917 volume:

Quincy High Schoc Bradford Library ooqos Lj6(H AoumQ GRANITE SHOE STORE, MORE V-A-L-U - E Q-U-A-L-l-T-Y FOR THE PRICE THERE IS THE COMPLETE STORY Come to Us and See our Values in High Grade Footwear at $5.00 BUYING IN LARGE LOTS FOR CASH IS THE REASON GRANITE SHOE STORE Quincy’s BIG Shoe Store CLEANSERS WARSHAW’S Founded 1892 DYERS DRV CLEANSING AIND PRESSING Men’s Suits, $1.00 Ladies’ Plain Suits, $2.00 Sport Coats, $1.50 It's a thorough cleansing process without the use of water Main Office and Works: 2 PROJECTA RD., EAST MILTON Call Milton 1907 GLOVE CLEANSING DEPARTMENT Quincy Office: 1503 HANCOCK ST. Call Quincy 2551 -W We carry a complete line of First Quality Groceries, Meats, Canned Goods, Etc. Courteous Reliable Clerks Auto Delivery Service puniur I ADAMS MARKET 1980 rHUNt | so. QUINCY MARKET I 17 FOY’S 2 STORES LOWELL TEXTILE SCHOOL Scientific and practical training in all processes of textile manufacture including all commercial fibres. Three-year diploma courses in COTTON MANUFACTURING WOOL MANUFACTURING TEXTILE DESIGNING Four-year degree course in CHEMISTRY AND TEXTILE COLORING TEXTILE ENGINEERING Degrees of B.T.D. (Bachelor of Textile Dye- ing) and B.T.E. (Bachelor of Textile Engineer- ing) offered for completion of prescribed four-year courses. Certified graduates of High Schools and Academies admitted without examination. For catalogue address Charles H. Eames, S.B., Principal. Lotcell. Mass. Patronize the GOLDEN-ROD and our advertisers Gfahle of (tiontmto Page EDITORIALS..................................... 3 STORIES ....................................... 4 The Missing Link—Continued from January “Golden-Rod” BOOK NOTES ................................... 21 SCHOOL NEWS .................................. 23 ALUMNI NOTES ................................. 25 EXCHANGES..................................... 26 ATHLETICS .................................... 27 JOKES AND CARTOON ............................ 30 C. HEARN We carry the largest line of high grade candies in the city. Try us and see. QUINCY SQUARE THE GIRL WHO GRADUATES from the High School: who hesitates to pledge four years to a College Course: who, nevertheless, desires to study, to enjoy college advantages, to cultivate special talents, to enrich her life and her friendships — should know of NATIONAL PARK SEMINARY It is a Junior College for young women planned especially to meet the needs of High School graduates. Collegiate and Vocational Courses, Music, Art, Domestic Science, Floriculture, Business Law, Travel. Outdoor life a feature. Study of the National Capitol. Illustrated book of 126 pages free on request. Address Secretary National Park Seminary, (Suburb of Washington, D.C.) Forest Glen, Maryland. Quincy High bchoo Bradford Library ZLbe (5olbcn s=1Rob March, 1917 No. 5 Volume XXVII XTbe ©olben IRcb Published eight times during the school year by the PUPILS OF 0. H. S. Address The Golden-Rod Quincy High School, Quincy, Mass. EDITORIAL STAFF EDITOR-IN-CHIEF...RUSSELL C. JOHNSON LITERARY EDITOR.. .. .AUGUSTA MacMAHON NEWS EDITOR....................HUGH NIXON ART EDITOR...................EVELYN LUKE ALUMNI EDITOR...............MILDRED DIACK EXCHANGE EDITOR................ANNA CREMINS ATHLETIC EDITOR.....HENRY PETERSON JOKE EDITOR.................WILLIAM MULLIN BUSINESS MANAGER..WILLIAM T. KENDALL ASS’T BUSINESS MANAGER STUART DIMMICK For Sale at Quincy High School Yearly Subscription - - 75 cents. Single Copies - - 10 cents. Entered at Boston, Mass., Post-Office as Second Class Matter. Editorials We are sorry that the Sophomore num- ber lacks a frontispiece. We had intended to print a picture of the Sophomore class officers but as no election has yet been held, no picture can be taken. Therefore, the Golden Rod must appear without a frontis- piece. Predictions concerning the basketball team certainly ran true. After Reading had inflicted a rather severe defeat upon Quincy, the latter came back strong and supplied a brand of basketball worthy of our athletic position. In addition Quincy trounced Reading in one of the most spectacular and hair-raising games ever witnessed on our floor, thereby tying Reading for first place. With the exception of the game at Wellesley this game was the best of the season and brought forth the wildest enthusiasm from the rooters. Although we are loathe to harp upon the financial support given the Golden Rod the alarming decrease in the circulation of the Short Theme Number necessitates a renew- al of this subject. It is absolutely essential that we regain the circulation that we ac- quired in the first two issues. We urge you to buy your own Golden Rod. Don’t look over somebody else’s shoulder! Freshmen and Sophomores make up the deficit shown in your subscriptions! In glancing through the first four issues of the Golden Rod certain interesting facts are revealed. The first which attracts our attention is the part each class produces, that is, the number of contributions each class has proffered. More careful enumeration indicates that the Junior class leads in the number of articles published. The seniors follow closely, with the sophomores and freshmen trailing behind. Upon closer ex- amination, also, the number who have contri- buted two or more times is observed. The number of these individual contributors is about a dozen, which number consists of seven boys and five girls. Three have submitted articles three times, a Senior, a Junior and a Freshman, respectively. From this review it is evident that the Seniors have lost that bril- liant literary standing which they held last year. This is a lamentable situation which ought to be remedied. Of course, we hope the other classes will increase their literary sup- port and make the contest hotter. Freshmen! One of the remaining editions of the Golden 4 THE GOLDEN-ROD Rod is to be reserved expressly for your con- tributions. See that a respectable amount of your work adorns the pages of the Golden Rod when your special edition appears. Notice is especially drawn to the narration entitled “The Story Told by a Desk.” The work is the result of the combined effort of the pupils in Miss Brant's division, H2A. Therefore, the writing shows different styles which may be of interest to the readers. The following pupils have contributed: Ebba Xarsten, Lempi Seppala, Amy Blom- quist, Hannah Rosenburg, Anna Haugh, Elizabeth Millen. The Missing Link (Continued) They were up bright and early on the mor- row, and little the worse for the terrible dreams and visions which had been theirs that night. In fact, if one had been watching them while they were preparing their breakfast, he would not have seen the least trace of fear on their faces, but instead would have found them more joyful and expectant than ever. But whether they were joyful because they would soon have their breakfast, or because they were now hopeful that they could solve the problem about the mysterious hand, I can- not tell. Donald was the first to break the short period of silence which ensued after they had eaten sparingly of their small amount of food. “Marshall.” said he, “we had better be going out now, and see what we can find out about that hand. I’m sure I can’t bear the suspense much long—.” “Come on then,” interrupted Marshall, whose one great fault was that of sometimes having an utter disregard for the feelings of others, especially when he thought he knew what they intended to say. “But look at that grey wall in front of us. I didn’t notice that before,” gasped the aston- ished Donald. “It wasn’t there before, for we came in, didn’t we?” “Where did it come from?” Marshall man- aged to gasp. “That’s for us to find out,’’ said Donald, gradually regaining his coolness. “I know what to do. We’ll crawl slowly towards it, and then make some sort of plan.” So slowly and cautiously they advanced on their hands and knees. Nearer and nearer they came to the wall, until at last they thought they ought to have touched it, but they did not; instead their hands groped along the un- even stone floor, their outstretched fingers meeting no barriers. “That’s funny,” laughed Donald, “we must have gone right through that wall. How—.” But Donald never finished that sentence. A groan from Marshall brought him to a sense of their real danger. “What is it, Marshall?” asked Donald. “What’s the matter?” “Oo, what an escape I had,” groaned Mar- shall. “I was crawling slowly along, when my hands left the floor, and I felt nothing but empty space. I drew back in alarm, for I guessed that I was on the brink of the shelf, on which we landed.” “You sure did have a narrow escape,” ad- mitted Donald, “but how about that wall that we saw?” “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! exclaimed Mar- shall. “The wall was nothing but a mass of fog. Don’t you see how foggy it is out here?” “That’s right,” admitted Donald: “No won- der we took this fog for a wall. Look how thick it is; you can cut it with a knife.” “But,” he continued regretfully, that ends THE GOLDEN-ROD 5 it, today, for our brilliant hopes of seeing that hand, for it doesn’t look like clearing up.” ' “We might as well go back to the hole then, before we fall down there,” advised Marshall, pointing to the bottom of the chasm. They went back to the aperture, and decided that the best thing to do was to sleep. It was surprising to see how long they slept, for it was at least three o’clock before they awoke, and then upon looking out, and muttering something about the fog, they only turned over, and again dozed off to sleep When they finally did get up, it was about six o’clock. Of course the first thing they did was to see if the fog was gone. It was gone, but it was now dark and so it did not make much differ- ence. However, they suspected that the moot} was out, but they could not see it, as the huge white clouds obstructed its view. So taking a little of their remaining food, they sat down on the shelf, where they could dimly see the clouds sail slowly by. “How about our rope on the cliff?” sudden- ly asked Donald, “We forgot all about it.” “Oh, yes,” replied Marshall. “Let’s get it now.” Again they move along the narrow stone shelf, but what is their dismay when after walking back and forth several times, they are unable to find the least trace of their precious rope. “What’s going to become of us?” Marshall asked weakly. “We’re in for it, now, all right,” said Don- ald, “we can’t ever get up this cliff without the rope.” “But I’d like to know what became of the rope,” muttered Marshall. “I don’t know,” Donald replied, “unless someone took it so that we would be kept prisoners here, and probably starve to death.” “At any rate,” Donald went on, “I’d like to meet whoever took that rope.” Could there have been two boys more fright- ened than Donald and Marshall, when out from the depths of nowhere came this thun- derous response? “The time may come when you will, so be on your guard.” What could they do now but hug them- selves with fright and return to their seat on the shelf. What with looking for the moon and repeatedly penetrating the darkness, try- ing to discover the owner of the voice which had bellowed at them, quite a large amount of work lay in store for them. Unknowingly they began to have forbod- ings. How long could this last ? Would they have to remain prisoners on this shelf facing unknown dangers and starvation, until their bodies could no longer stand the strain? No, this could not happen. Surely their Father would not forget them ? This last thought put new life into them, and it is well that it did, for they were yet to have many trying experi- ences. Just then something happened. The moon, which had been hiding in back of the clouds, suddenly appeared, and a flood of light brigh- tened the earth. “Hurrah, the hand! The hand!” exclaimed Donald, as a still brighter light, in the shape of a hand, burst forth a dazzling silver glow. “Where? where?” demanded Marshall hys- terically, “I don’t see it.” No wonder Marshall didn’t see it. The cloud which was then pass- ing over the moon was broken in places, and the moon shone only when one of the spaces was between it and the earth. “It’s gone; no, there it is,” shouted Donald,. “See it, Marshall?” “Yes, I do. No—Yes,” said Marshall, now excited beyond control. Just then he did a very rash and foolish thing. Picking up a stone, he aimed and threw it straight for the hand, before Donald could prevent. It went true to its mark, hitting the hand in the center. Suddenly a tremendous clanging noise startled them. What was happening, they did not know, but they would soon learn. Of one thing they were sure; the clanging noise was caused by the stone hitting the hand. The suspense was broken by Donald, who 6 THE GOLDEN-ROD shouted frantically, Marshall. Marshall, the shelf is sinking, I can feel it go down. What’ll become of us?” Donald was right. The shelf was slowly but surely being drawn down, with the two frightened boys standing on it. Did the owner of the thunderous words which they heard, have anything to do with this? Time alone would tell. John Preti, T9. A Story Told by a Writing Desk Introduction One day as I was exploring the attic, I dis- covered in a corner, an old, worn, and battered desk. Its aspect was very interesting, and I could not help wondering about its life his- tory for I knew it must have an interesting one. The old desk must have read my thoughts, because it said. “Ah! you are wondering about my history. If you would like to listen to me, I will relate it to you.” I was delighted with the plan, so I thanked the desk and consented to come and listen a little while every day. The following story will give an account of the old desk’s history, as it was told to me. I was made in the year 1862 by a large fur- niture company in New York. I am, as you sec, an old fashioned Adams’ desk made of mahogany, with a bookcase above and a chest of drawers beneath. At one time you might have seen books of rare and beautiful bindings behind the leaded glass doors of the book case, but now only papers are stored where these once priceless books were kept. Beneath the bookcase is the main part of me. My front cover may be let down to form a rest to write on. This, when open, reveals many pigeon holes where papers and letters are kept. One of the three spacious drawers that form the lower part of me is di- vided into oblong shaped boxes. In these Mr. Warren, my owner, used to keep his valuable papers. There are a great many scratches on my surface made by the children of the War- ren family, so that from my present condition you can hardly imagine what a beautiful piece of furniture I was, when new. But, as people have to grow old and of little use, so it is with furniture. I am now good only as a place in which to store these old books and papers. One day. I was placed in a large wooden crate, on which was printed the name of one of the largest furniture stores of Boston. At last I was to see the world. I was put in an express wagon and taken to a large railroad station. In three weeks I reached Boston. Never before had I seen such a bustle and hurry as I did when I arrived there. Another express wagon came for me and without much cere- mony I was taken to the store. Here I met many new friends, but, a writ- ing desk or any piece of furniture from the time it is made in the factory until it is chopped into fire wood is always making friends and then losing them. Well, as I said, I made many friends in the store and heard stories of their lives, some of them sorrowful and others glad. One of my new chums, a beautiful slender, bamboo chair, told me that he was made in South America and on the way north, the ship on which he was aboard was held up by a southern ship and detained for two months before a northern ship rescued it. The chair, with some of his brothers, was injured, one of his legs being broken by the rough handling of the southern soldiers. He was, however, mended and polished over until the wound could not be noticed. When a wooden picture frame of beautiful Swiss handiwork heard the chair’s story, she told us of the picturesque Swiss mountains and of the life of the one who had made her. She said that she became very homesick and THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 cried all night when she was packed in a hard wooden box with hundreds of other frames, and sent to far off America. It was not many days after I had listened to the sad misfortunes of my friends, the bam- boo chair, and the picture frame, that an elder- ly man entered the store with the intention of buying a desk. It proved to be Governor Warren of Vir- ginia, who had been sent to the store by a friend, who had noticed me the day before. The proprietor of the store told the Gov- ernor to examine me carefully and see of what a fine quality of mahogany I was made. I was purchased on the spot, and taken by two laborers into the packing room, where I was put into a crate much against my own wishes and injured pride, though I was very glad to know that I would soon see new and strange things. Next morning I was taken by the express man to a freight house where the baggage man scrawled some words on the outside of my prison walls. I was then carried by two men into a freight car. That is about all I remember until I was taken out again in a new and strange place, for I had fainted from fright when I felt the cars begin to move rap- idly and heard the engine shriek out blasts of warning. I recall being taken out of the freight car, when I reached my destination, and being put into an express wagon which carried me to the Governor’s home. Such a drive as I had, through long streets and parks until at last I was driven up a wide tree-shaded avenue where the teamster stopped before a large and stately mansion. The house was of the white colonial kind with stately pillars upholding the many bal- conies and verandas. It was surrounded by well kept lawns bordered with flowers and shrubs of different kinds: while a crystal fountain added to the beauty of the place. The sight of all these new things absolutely took my breath away, but I was awakened from my deep musings by the sudden jar I received in being drawn off the wagon, and carried with great difficulty up the grand stair- way of my new home. I was placed in a large, cheery, old-fash- ioned library, near one of the bay windows in one corner of the room, and as soon as I was settled I began to make friends with all the occupants of the room. During my conversa- tion with an arm chair, the wide panelled door swung open and into the library scampered two youngsters of about seven and ten years of age. They rushed over to me and began to ex- amine and handle me most rudely until I groaned with pain, and were in the act of open- ing one of my lower drawers, when their father appeared and dismissed them from the room. They went out unwillingly but quietly. Their father closed the door after them, and sat down in the large arm chair apparently in deep thought. It was here in the library that young Colonel W arren found his father. “I shall have to hide these papers some- where, father,” exclaimed the impatient officer, as he strode into the room. They stood a few moments in deep thought before Governor W arren spoke. “I’ll tell you what to do! Hide them in my new desk. I’m quite sure they will be safe, and I have a key that will lock each drawer.” “A good idea,” said the young Colonel, tak- ing the important documents from out of one of his leather boots, and locking the thick package in the drawer in my left hand side. The key was hidden in one of my deep ink- wells and covered with a pile of books and papers. After a few words which I could not dis- tinguish the Colonel pulled out his watch, started up hurriedly, shook hands with his father, and putting on his gloves, left the room. A little later the sound of horse’s hoofs was heard in the drive, and I knew that he had departed. The next day being stormy the children were obliged to stay in the house. After play- 8 THE GOLDEN-ROD ing several games, they thought it would be fun to play school. Muriel, the eldest, was chosen to be teacher. While arranging the papers and books on top of me, she came across an old inkwell under a heap of papers. She took it out intending to fill it. Upon opening it she found three keys attached to a ring, which she laid aside, thinking no more about them. By the time school was dismissed, the sun was shining again. The children, eager for new attractions, did not stop to put the desk in order, but ran out of doors. That afternoon. Mr. Warren sent word to his wife that he would bring home to dinner, a guest, who came with a letter of introduc- tion from their son. Mrs. Warren was pleased when she heard this, for she anticipated hear- ing news of her boy. Upon their arrival Mr. Warren introduced the stranger as Mr. Coburn. Mrs. Warren was immediately impressed by the appearance of their guest. He was a man about twenty years old. well built, and handsome to look upon in his well-fitting uniform. After dinner, while sitting in the library en- gaged in an interesting discussion about the war, they heard the sound of a fall in one of the children’s rooms overhead. Mrs. Warren hastily excused herself and rushed upstairs. Presently I heard her call to her husband who excused himself from Mr. Coburn and left the room. Mr. Coburn, when left alone in the library, acted very strangely for a guest. He rose and walked over to me, and examined me closely. I had noticed before that evening that he had cast several searching glances in my direction, but had thought he was simply admiring my beautiful lines and mahogany. Now, to my surprise, he drew out a bunch of keys and tried each one without success. Glancing quickly over the top of me. he dis- covered the three keys which Muriel had found earlier in the day. With breathless haste, he tried each one until he found one that fitted a drawer at my left hand side. Upon opening it, he found a bundle of papers which to me looked like the papers the Colonel had hidden the day before. Just as he was about to put the papers in his pocket, a voice called, “Hands up, or I’ll shoot.” Turning swiftly he saw Mr. Warren with a drawn revolver. He had a look of surprise and consternation on his face, for he had hardly expected to find that their charming guest was no other than a Union spy. Covering him with the revolver, Governor Warren started toward the papers, and as he stooped to pick them up, the visitor with a quick movement, darted out the French win- dow and made his escape. One morning a few weeks later, Arthur and Buddie were playing in the library, when happening to glance out of the window they saw a number of men crossing the field and coming toward the stable. The boys recog- nized them to be stragglers from the Union Army, and they immediately hastened out of the room to tell their mother what they had seen. It was true, the men were now surround- ing the stable, and some of them were leading out the horses. Then I heard Mrs. Warren exclaim, “Quick, we will have to go up into the attic, for they are coming towards the house, and that is the only place to hide.” “Oh, mother, why do those terrible men come here and trouble us like this? I am sure we have done nothing to injure them,” said the Governor’s daughter, as they were going upstairs. I realized what was happening. These stragglers from the Union Army were coming to raid Governor Warren’s house, as they had raided many other houses during the war. I only hoped that they would not trouble the frightened family, for they had no means of defense. All was quiet for an instant, then I heard the tramp of many footsteps coming up the front steps onto the piazza. Finding the door THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 locked, the soldiers began to pound at it, until at last they broke in. To judge from the noise, they went through all the rooms upstairs and down, smashing, banging everything they could possibly find. When they came into the library they de- stroyed some valuable pieces of furniture. I thought that this would surely be the end of me, and in truth they left me in a terrible condition. The glass on my bookcase was shattered into a thousand pieces, the books were taken out and scattered over the room, and my beautiful mahogany sides were all scratched. After this reckless destruction the soldiers must have gone to the kitchen and helped themselves, for I saw them going past the win- dows with all the provisions they could carry. While I was in this sorry plight the Gov- ernor and his son, who during this time had been away, arrived home, and it was a sad sight that met their gaze as they glanced about the rooms and realized what had happened. In great alarm about the family they went in search of the missing ones, and discovered them in the attic, dreading to go downstairs and see the ruin caused by the soldiers. As they went from room to room and gazed about them, they realized that they were a ruined family, for their home was really de- stroyed. The furniture, which they were unable to use any longer, was stored in the attic, and much to the sorrow of the Warren family, I had to go with the rest. So it is here in the attic of this old Virginian home that I am now telling my life history to one of the Warren dcscendents. The war has long since been over and my owners have rebuilt this dear old home, but they hardly ever think of me; in fact, you are the only one who has come to visit me for many years. Perhaps you will come again some time; at any rate I want to thank you for the little bit of sunshine you have brought into the life of a poor old discarded writing desk. H2a. My Queerest Dream It was the fitting end of a gorgeous August. It seemed a pity that school began the next day, and as I threw aside my book, and lay back on the grass, I banished the thought from my mind. I gazed around me, wondering why more people hadn’t seen the beauties of the place and built there. The smooth, green meadow stretched to the softly rounded hills on three sides, while on the fourth towered a clump of enormous trees, an outpost of the dense woods beyond. It' seemed as if one were miles from human habi- tation, although the sleepy little village sat stiffly, like a group of doll houses, just over the nearest hill. As I lay there, suddenly I felt a touch on my arm. Jumping up, I found myself con- fronting a dccidely pretty girl, with haughty gray eyes that went with the manner of one born to command. “I—I beg your pardon,” I stammered, “I didn’t mean to trespass.” “Oh, you’re not, at all,” she replied, “I saw you here, and came to ask you to tea.” Here was my chance. Something interesting had befallen each member of the party except myself. This would be something to tell about, although I wasn’t quite sure what my chaperon would say. “I’d love to go,” I assented, and picking up my goods and chattels, I followed my guide in the direction of the clump of trees. We fell into conversation. “Might I ask your name?” I queried. “I’m ‘The Girl Philippa’,” she replied, 10 THE GOLDEN-ROD “Don’t you remember? I came out in the ‘Cosmopolitan’ ”. My face must have shone my astonishment, for she began to laugh. “Why, I thought you knew. The last after- noon of every August, the Story Book People' are allowed to have a mortal to tea. We had almost despaired of having a guest this time, as our country is not frequented a great deal, when I caught the glimmer of your white dress and came over to ask you.” “Oh, what fun!” I cried, “I’ve always want- ed to see my favorite characters in real life. Do hurry.” We soon entered the grove of trees, which had, in some mysterious way, grown a great deal larger, and there before us stood a little white bungalow, its veranda, and the strip of lawn in front of it, dotted with tables. Philippa approached the girls and men seat- ed on the steps. “We are the entertainment committee,” she explained, “These are Miss Trilby, Miss Mag- gie Tulliver, Mr. Quced, and Mr. Wilkins Mi- cawber,” and, turning to them, “this is our mortal, who has come to tea.” They rose and greeted me enthusiastically. “My dear young lady,” quoth Mr. Micaw- ber, putting his hand in his waiscoat, “I as- sure you we shall endeavor to express our thanks for this visit, in some slight way. In fact,” he went on, in a burst of confidence, “we are glad to see you.” Mr. Queed, a studious, timid looking little man, bowed, and without speaking, shook my hand, while both the ladies courtesied. “The others will arrive soon,” said Mr. Micawber, “at present we are the only ones here.” “As you may have observed,” put in Mr. Quced, his eyes twinkling. Trilby turned to Philippa, and burst forth, “My dear, have you heard that My Lady—” “Which one?” I rudely interrupted. “The one written up in ‘The Three Muske- teers,’ of course. As I was saying, have you heard that My Lady is giving a big dance at which that nice little Lorna Doone is to make her debut? It is two weeks from tomorrow. You’re invited. I—Oh, heavens, here comes that awful Robinson Crusoe. I wish he would remove that motheaten sheepskin. It looks so hot. I never could see what Guinevere saw in him. “Sir Lancelot’s Guinevere?” I ventured to ask. “Oh. that affair was broken off long ago. Robinson Crusoe and Guinevere are quite de- voted now.” “Here come some people,” Philippa broke in. “Ring for some hot water, somebody.” Mr. Queed rang the bell, and in answer to it, who should appear but my old friend, Un- cle Remus, dressed in a uniform covered al- most, with brass buttons. I turned to sec a group evidently coming from the tennis courts. As I don’t read “The Red Book,” or “Snappy Stories,” I failed to recognize many of them. Then three men strode around the corner, and I saw they were Sherlock Holmes, Jean Yal Jean, and John Ridd. The newcomers placed themselves about the tables, and fell to consuming sandwiches in quantities. “Hey, Dick,” called a dapper young man, who looked like the hero of “Seventeen.” “I heard somebody inquiring for you.” “ ‘Dick,’ is Richard Carvel. You've heard of him?” Mr. Queed murmured in my car. Dick turned red, and muttering something under his breath, looked angrily at the young man. The group burst into laughter D’Ar- tagnan turned to me. “Poor Dick,” he said. “One of the heroines of a ‘Ladies’ Home Journal’ novel follows him everywhere. I forgot what they call her, the ‘Gernanium Lady,’ I think. He has been teased about her so much, he almost hides when she comes around. S’blood! Here she is now!” Sure enough, rather a pretty girl rounded the corner, looking eagerly about, as if search- ing for some one. The minute her eye fell Quincy High Schoo Bradford Library THE GOLDEN-ROD 11 upon Mr. Carvel, she approached, and attached herself to him, to his ill-concealed chagrin, and the amusement of the by-standers. “It has grown so plebian here, since all these magazines started up,” I heard the aristocratic Aramis say, while on the other side, Porthas was grumbling because he had cream instead of lemon. Athos and D’Artagnan were ar- guing about the respective merits of Mary Pickford and Marguerite Clark. “So, Medea,” called Dr. Jckyll, just returned from a ramble as Mr. Hyde. A stunning young woman, sheltering her charms by a pink parasol, appeared. She car- ried a bag which looked rather lumpy, and I couldn’t help wondering if she carried her la- mented brother’s bones in it. As she walked towards us, I noticed that she limped a little. “What’s the matter with your foot, little one?” inquired Lord Leicester, jocularly. “That clumsy Ivanhoe wore his best suit of mail to the last Assembly, and while I was dancing with him, he tramped on my foot as hard as he could and lamed me for a week,” she answered pettishly. “Where’s Becky Sharper” asked John Ridd. “Oh, Guy Mannering came to call, and brought that new man, ‘K,’ they call him. So Becky had to stay home and entertain them. She was awfully bored.” Suddenly, Lady Rowcna pushed through the crowd. “Ah, ha! So you arc that mortal,” she said, dramatically, “You—” Siezing my shoulder, she began to shake me, and— I opened my eyes to find my sister bending over me. telling me to hurry, or we should miss the train. Marian Carter, T9. A Quincy Lilliput I did not know there was a colony of those little people, the Lilliputians, until, arriving at Quincy High School one March morning about eight-thirty I rang the bell and was ad- mitted by a small boy about two feet, six inches, in height. He toddled away from the door with a very bashful air and I followed him into a room on the left. It was full of them—infants like the one who answered the door. The tops of their heads were just barely visible above the covers of their desks while their legs dangled help- lessly in the air about a foot from the floor. A recitation was going on. The teacher called on one of the little dears to recite but he was so timid that she had to have him come up and whisper in her ear. Before the final bell rang I went down to the other end of the corridor where I ob- served a very tall man doubled up like a jack- knife trying to hear what one of those cute little children was saying. He straightened up suddenly and motioned some one to get down. I turned to see one of the extremely small infants boosting another up so that he could get a drink at the fountain. The classes were now changing for the next period, and the tall man disappeared in the crowd. A dignified sophomore as he ascended the stairs rested his books on the head of a sweet little girl with pig-tails down her back. At the very end of the long procession I noticed a freshman go running up and down stairs twice. Asking him what the trouble was I learned that he was unable to carry all his books at once and so he was obliged to make two trips. In room twenty-seven the teacher asked if one of the members of the class was absent but this was emphatically denied as the lit- tle fellow stood up in his seat in order to make himself seen. At lunch-time I heard a small freshman ask if he couldn’t have some bread and milk for his lunch. One of them spilled his milk and thereupon began to cry while a deluge 12 THE GOLDEN-ROD of soup descended on the head of another to the accompaniment of saddening wails. I was a bit bewildered by all the strange sights I had seen. I thought I was visiting a High School. I withdrew to the office to question the principal, where 1 found a lit- tle fellow weeping copiously against the door-frame. After school hours 1 saw the strangest sight of all. A little boy about three years old was standing by the post at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor, howling with all his might. The Charge of “Not so fast, not so fast, Not so fast,” thundered Teachers to freshmen For the lunch counter running. Faster up stairs they go, Freshmen are never slow, Especially when time to go, To the lunch counter. Upward they quickly climb, Only to fall in line. “Stop pushing, take your time,” Some one is saying. With noise of lots of feet. Forward they go to eat, Then they sound quick retreat, Hurrying to get a seat. Silently struggling. “What’s the matter, my little man?” I asked. “I want my muvver,” he wailed. This was certainly the last word in juvenile productions. I stood there completely puz- zled until I saw a woman, evidently his mother coming down the stairs. She had been attending the adult sewing classes and her little son had followed her to school. He was not, I was relieved to learn, a mem- ber of the freshmen class. I could not help feeling as I departed that he would probably be admitted in September—to Lilliput. Florence M. Hoagland, T9. the Freshmen Students to right of them, Students to left of them, Students in back of them Pushing and crowding. Kicked at with well aimed feet, They never sound retreat, For they must find a seat, Or they must face defeat. Forward, brave freshmen. Finally they reach the wall, ’Gainst it they heavily fall. The noise sounds through the hall. Then they start eating So fast you can hear them. They fall to with great delight, Gurgling their soups with might. It is a glorious sight. Well done, bold freshmen. Martin Battis, T9. The March Wind The March Wind is a strange fellow. He roves about all streets and corners, and plays pranks on everyone that he meets. At one time he will blow so hard as to cause many an old gentleman to run after his hat. The next minute he will brush roughly against the cart of a fruit vender, and cause that individ- ual to scramble hither and thither in pursuit of his apples and oranges, which roll in all directions. He continues on through the crowded streets of the city, and raises such dust, that it almost blinds the people. He scatters paper which frightens the horses, and causes such confusion, that everyone wishes that he may never have an opportunity to meet this mischievous person again. Morris Mirkin, T9. THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 Mace’s Mansion Part One. The Spectre The rickety coach drew up to the inn door and stopped with a jerk that threw me from my seat. Grabbing my baggage, I jumped out and entered the inn, which was of the usual type, a low rambling affair, surrounded on two sides by a garden as unkempt as the hair on the head of a school boy. Inside J was met by a dapper clerk and the jovial innkeeper, who showed me to a table, where I made a hearty meal. Later, as I sat by mine host’s roaring fire, sipping my beer and puffing my pipe, an elder- ly gentleman entered the room and drew a chair up to the fire close beside mine. He in- quired for my health, introduced himself as Colonel Samuel Livingston, said he had “fit in the Revolution,” and gave me a great deal of his family history, all in a remarkably short time. Then gradually the conversation drifted to my own affairs and to the trip I had just made. He asked me a great many questions. Among them—“An’ did ye chanct to see that old house nigh the river, ’bout a half mile from the village ?” At my affirmative reply, he proceeded to tell me that the house was a peculiar cue. Most everyone thought it was haunted, and he knew it was. It was called “Mace’s Mansion.” Would I like to hear about it? ’Twas a wierd tale. I assured him that I would be very glad to hear of anything mysterious. The colonel took a slender, clay pipe from above the fireplace, filled it leisurely, and turned to me. “Have ye ever heered of Holebrook Mace?” he queried. “No, sir, T can’t say that I have,” I replied. “Nor of Montgomery Wallace?” “Not he.” “Well, then, I will tell you the story of those illustrious gentlemen.” Settling back in his chair he spoke in his high-pitched, rasping voice. His story ran something like this. Holbrook Mace was a lawyer, one of the meanest of that lofty profession. Wallace was a scientist, such as they went in those days, and made up in the good nature and most of the other good qualities which Mace lacked. However, he had a bad habit of losing his temper and consequently his head. On account of this weakness Mace had been able, by a contemptible stroke of professional strategy, to secure possession of Wallac’e house and belongings. When his anger had cooled Wallace realized how badly he had been beaten, and soon lost all of his kindheartedness in a burning desire for revenge. Upon meeting his enemy at this very inn, he asked that he be given a week’s time to get a few of his personal belongings. Mace consented and Wallace left, hissing at Mace, “Remember, you’ll gain nothing by this accursed trick.” The week passed, and as Wallace did not return, the new owner set out to claim his property. Upon reaching the house Mace rapped loudly and, receiving no answer, stepped in. A deathly silence hung over the place. Mace passed on through the empty rooms and, drawn by some strange power, which he could not ex- plain, he descended the stairs which led to the scientist’s wine-closet. All was quite dark and at first he could see nothing, but presently he could discern the figure of a man alarmingly close at hand. Mace stepped nearer and was about to speak when he detected a line passing from the man’s neck to the cross timber above his head. Ha! ’Twas quite plain. Mace comprehended in an instant and cold sweat came on his brow at the realization of the mournful truth. The blow had been too much for Wallace and so he had chosen this method of ending it all. Was Mace to blame? Well, there was nothing to do but cut the body down and get rid of it. A stroke of his sword and the corpse fell across Mace’s shoulder. How stiff and cold it felt. Mace started up the stairs with his gruesome J4 THE GOLDEN-ROD burden, and as he did so, the dead man’s head, striking a beam, was shoved horrifyingly close to Mace's. Upon arriving in the open air he took a closer look at the body. But the setting sun afforded a poor light and the face of the dead man was blackened and contorted beyond rec- ognition. As Mace had no time to waste, he staggered down to the river and unceremoni- ously heaved the body in. Mace tossed on his bed, and. as he lay there all alone in that great, silent house, which had, a few hours before, contained a suicide, he recalled Wallace's words— Remember, you'll gain nothing by this accursed trick.” What did the man mean? What had he to fear from a dead man. anyway? He laughed nervously. He was not superstitous, but, nev- ertheless he felt decidedly ill at ease. The night was cloudy. A storm seemed near at hand. And the silence was broken only by the muttering of distant thunder. The hollow sound of an innocent clock, striking twelve, made Mace jump pitifully. Then as the last stroke died away, the room became faintly lighted by a burning object near the door. Mace raised his head and stared in that direc- tion. Zounds! There stood Wallace, whose dead body he had thrown in the river a short time before! His face and hair glowed with a wondrous yellow light and around his neck was a rope, the end of which he held in his flaming hands! His clothes clung to his body and the drops which fell from them told Mace they were wet. Wallace pointed at Mace. His yellow lips moved, “Mace, this house does not belong to you!” He raised his hand above his head and stepped forward. All this time Mace had been staring fixedly at the spectre. However, this last move proved too much and the terrified Holbrook dashed head over heels down the road to town. A few minutes later he arrived at the inn, where he put up for the night, attired in night cap and gown. Xow to make a long story short, I will sim- ply say that Mace’s adventure had cured him of all desire to dwell in his new abode. Long and earnestly he tried to sell his property, but each one of his prospective buyers, after spend- ing a night at the house, gave one reason or another for not buying it. Thus matters stood upon my arrival at the village. Mace had gone to Europe, leaving his property in charge of the innkeeper, with or- ders to sell whenever possible. The only new- comer to the village was an old man much too poor to buy the mansion. The innkeeper’s luck was consequently poor. And thus ran the colonel's story. What do you think of it? Supernatural? (To be continued.) Norman L. Dodge, T2. Reflections on the Rear End of the School Car We wait in the “Chinks” in the morning. We wait ’til he hollers “Car come!” Then we go walking out yawning And stretching, and saying, “Hi hum.” We think of the school teachers’ faces, When they say, “1.15,” then we groan. We try to forget them, but gracious, If we do there is trouble at home. At 1.15 we’re as happy as crickets, We hop on the fender so gay. But when the conductor says, “Tickets,” The happiness turns to dismay. There’s always a kid in the middle. With everyone crowded around, When they “sap” him it’s just like a riddle, For the culprit cannot be found. We’re glad when we reach “Dog Corner,” For then we have nearly reached home. We don’t stop to think of the dishonor, Of “skipping” without being known. Edward O'Meara, 1919. THE GOLDEN-ROD 15 My Breakfast “I just must have some breakfast, I’m hun- gry enought to eat brass! I’ll HAVE to go out through the fire-place, and see whether there is anything to cat in the waste-basket or not!” I cried to my wife. “If there isn’t any danger and is some food in there, I will come back and tell you.” We never went out into the sitting-room except as a last resort of getting something to keep us from starvation. I had often sug- gested changing our home to some nearby house, but my wife had always said she would- n’t go through moving again unless it was ab- solutely necessary. I hated to go out into that room as the cat was generally sleeping, with one eye open, watching for my wife and me. That waste-basket rarely had anything very palatable in it anyway. I crept up the passage and came to the fire- place. Peering around 1 saw that the cat wasn’t there. This certainly was luck ! I stole cautiously outside and started to run swiftly to the basket. About half-way across, there was a terrible BOOM! I almost stopped still. Again, BOOM! I ran as fast as I could to the basket and hid behind it, wait- ing, anxiously, until four more booms were over. Then I decided that it was the clock, stricking six. I crawled up the side of the closely-woven basket, and balancing on the top, smelt a delicious smell. Jumping inside I carefully made my way towards it. It proved to be a piece of cheese, but—it was in a trap. I knew what they were be- cause I had fully examined the one my brother was killed in, so I kept at a safe distance away. This was discouraging. But what was that? Couldn’t I smell shredded wheat? This was unusual in a sitting-room waste-basket. There might be some small pieces left in it though. I turned around. SNAP! “Ouch !” I shouted, “oh my beautiful tail!” “Pulling, I found that the trap had cut off about one-sixth of it. I was free again, nevertheless. I hastened to the box, knowing that soon the family would be up, and would hear me. Oh! that delicious wheat! I must hasten back home and tell wifey. My! How my tail ached! What was that? Surely no one was up yet. Yes. Someone was. They were com- ing nearer. I felt them reach in and care- fully take out the trap. “Oh! He isn’t in here! But I certainly heard something move. Gladys! bring down the cat! There’s a mouse in the waste-basket.” I was terribly frightened. What could I do? I had no way of getting out except by taking the chance of crawling out, and run- ning across to the fire-place. I heard steps. I must cither act quickly or die. Working to the top, I found they had placed a heavy news- paper oved the basket. Now, I must await death! I heard the cat. He was smelling around the basket. I wondered how long it would be before he caught me. The basket tipped. The cat was looking in. I couldn’t see him, but I knew what he was doing. “Oh, Kitty!” Gladys exclaimed, “You are too slow. Come, I will take the basket into the enclosed piazza, and see if you can catch him when I turn it upside down!” She carried the basket out there, and closing the door securely, she stood in a chair and turning the basket up a little began shaking it gently. What was to await me except death by this loudly purring cat? I tried to be calm. Soon she tipped the basket more until it was nearly upside down, and shook harder. I felt myself slipping. Out I went! Papers with me! I darted to a nearby corner. Did the cat see me? No! He was covered with papers. But Gladys did! I ran along the edge of the room to the next corner. He didn’t see me now! Swiftly I went to the next corner which was very near, formed by a support of the piazza. Gladys stood looking at me and shouting to the cat. What was going 16 THE GOLDEN-ROD to happen to me ? But wait—was that a hole ? Yes! I crept up to it, and looked out through. A cold wind came in. This must lead to out- doors. It was bitterly cold and I hated to go out. I looked once more at the cat, and he was coming. He must have discovered that I wasn’t in the papers. I gave a great jump, and was outside. I hurried along the edge, and scrambled down the side of the piazza, safe! I had forgotten that I was hungry! After being lost several times. I succeeded in finding my way home. When I arrived, there was my wife waiting for me, with a fine cracker dinner which she herself had found, without any mishaps, in the next house. Thus she was convinced that the next house was better. So after bandaging my poor tail, and ravenously eating our dinner, we began to get ready to move. In our new home we have plenty to cat, and there are no cats to annoy us. Helen Alden, T9. The New Boy It was a typical boy’s school, with boys of all types and from all parts of the country, and was located at a distance from the city just where it should be, where there was plenty of skating, football, baseball, toboggan- ing, and rowing. It had just reopened after the Christmas Holidays, and the boys were just beginning to swarm back. There were groups of them about the grounds and in the buildings, and a general commotion prevailed. A few new boys had entered, and wandered helplessly about, not knowing what to do with themselves, and they eyed with envy the “old boys,” who rushed back and fourth, call- ing to one another in a jolly, intimate way, and seeming so entirely at home. A few of them made friends with one another, but most of the fellows were too busy. And then be- sides, the hockey-captain had ordered all can- didates down to the pond, so that all the athletic crowd had disappeared. A knot of such were all hurrying along in their togs, and all talking at once. They were big fellows, some of them veterans of the previous year. They had nearly reached the pond when they saw, sauntering along ahead of them, in a unconcerned manner, one of the “new boys.” He wore a brown golf suit, and a cap on the back of his head. With his hands thrust into his pockets, he walked slowly along, swinging one foot in front of the other. “Who’s this?” asked one of the veterans, noticing him. “New boy, good figure, hasn’t he?” said an- other. “Yes. Wonder if he intends to play in that suit of clothes?” “They’re new,—he got them to come up here in.” A general snicker followed this shot, and they all turned a little to look at the target as they passed him. He glanced up also, and they saw a handsome face with a pair of dark eyes looking out curiously at them from under a lock of dark brown hair. He scanned them with a good-humored stare. The crowd hurried past him, and no one spoke until they were some distance ahead. Finally Jones, (one of the players,) said, “I wonder how old that fellow is?” “Seventeen, or so, I guess,” returned Perkins. “Good-looking, wasn’t he?” put in Dean, who was handsome himself. No answer was made to this, as they had reached the pond, where Andrews, the cap- tain, was tearing round from man to man, en- deavoring to put some method into the con- fusion that reigned. One of the masters was there also, with the old players, who were flying round on the ice. “Here you are at last,” he panted, stopping before the arrivals. “You, Jones, go down THE GOLDEN-ROD 17 to where Mr. Walters is, and see if you can make a goal for these new men. We’re go- ing to line up in a few minutes.” Then he rushed off again, leaving the boys to find their own places. Meanwhile the “new boy” had sauntered on and reached tlie pond also. He went leisurely to the edge, and surveyed the crowd with in- terest. Perkins soon caught sight of him, and ques- tioned Andrews. “Has that fellow tried for anything yet?” “What fellow?” “That good-looking one on the ice.” “No. Who is he?” “Don’t know—some new boy.” Just then the puck went bounding out of the pond. The new-comer jumped up, chased the puck, picked it up and gave it back to the captain. “Thank you!” called several voices, directed toward the “new boy.” The captain next came running up and stood beside the “new boy.” “Look here,” he be- gan awkwardly, “want to try for the team?” The “new boy” regarded him a moment, and then answered with a smile: “Of course I wouldn’t mind trying.” “All right; come on. Got any togs here ?” “I have some back at the school.” “Can’t you find some here?” Andrews rushed into the nearby building and returned in a moment, with several suits in his arms. “Get into one of these, as quick as you can,” he said. “Hold on er—er—what’s your name ?” “My name?—oh, er—Williams.” Andrews hurried off and told the tale to some of the boys, and then, with the help of Mr. Walters, lined up the teams. By the time all was arranged, Williams came on the ice. All eyes were fixed on him, and no one noticed Mr. Walters’ start of surprise, nor did they understand the glance Williams directed at him. “Come on, Williams,” called Andrews. “Get down here on the pond. Now boys, get ready. Play hard and fast, and lets see what the first game of the season will show! Mr. Walters, you’ll umpire, please.” The game began, with Williams playing on Andrews’ team. The other team had the puck. They gained five yards on the first two shots, and Andrews exclaimed, “This won’t do! Come, get together! Williams, play up more, you don’t get into the inter- ference.” One more strike, and an opposing player knocked the puck toward Williams. Andrews yelled, “Nail it, nail it! Get down more!” Williams waited calmly, and then reached down and stopped the puck. He then started slowly to the right, and then suddenly to the left. Here, an opposing player shot out and grabbed the puck. There was quite a struggle until the opposing player slipped and fell. Wil- liams suddenly grabbed the puck, and in a minute went tearing down the ice and never stopped until a goal was made. The play lasted only two ten minute halves, and during the next half Williams played his best. Immediately after the game, Williams rushed into his dressing room, and that was the last seen of him. When the other boys had dressed, Mr. Walters approached them, laughing. “Whom arc you waiting for, boys?” he asked. “Williams,” Andrews answered. “Well, I wouldn’t waste time doing that, He’s gone. “Gone where?” “He has gone back to Quincy. Who do you think that fellow was? ‘Mutt’ Winslow, the Quincy High School captain!” “Winslow ?” exclaimed Andrews. “Why, Mr. Walters, you’re joking. He’s Williams, a new boy.” “I beg your pardon. That was ‘Mutt’ Winslow, whom I know very well. Of course he wasn’t going to let you suspect by his name; but I knew what he was up to. He has just brought his little brother up here, and 18 THE GOLDEN-ROD finding none of you knew him by sight, he played a joke on you. It’s just like him too, to.” And Mr. Walters laughed until the boys laughed with him. “Do you think I ought to write?” Andrews said shamefacedly. “I was awfully flip with him.” “My dear boy, no!” Mr. Walters said. “It’s the best joke of the year, and that would spoil it. At any rate you all know Winslow now, and I've no doubt but that he will send you all tickets during the season.” And he did. Ralph Hayden, T9. The New Sport “Where did you get that pin, Bulldog?” Shrimp Bellew asked curiously, meeting Bull- dog Jones on the steps of Rockville Academy. “Which one do you mean?” asked Bulldog Jones, the athletic idol of Rockville, for the lapel of his coat was covered with pins of all varieties. “That red, white and blue one,” answered Shrimp, pointing out a small but pretty pin. “Oh, you have to earn that by doing some- thing great.” Bulldog threw out his chest as if he was the only one who could ever win that sort of pin. “How did you get yours? Can I get one? Who gave it to you?” Shrimp fairly hurled the questions at him. “Go easy, kid. One at a time. You know how the Kaiser gives the Iron Cross to any German that does some brave deed. Well, Prexy gives the pin to anyone who helps Rock- ville defeat Greenfield fairly. Of course, the fellow’s got to be captain or else the best player on the team. I was captain of the first hockey team Rockville ever had that beat Greenfield. As you’re such a little runt there’s not much chance of your winning a pin.” Having delivered this speech. Bulldog walked over to join some of the players of hockey team who had approached, leaving a disconsolate youth behind. Mr. Wesley, an alumnus of Rockville Academy offered a beautiful silver cup every year to the pupil having the best scholarship. George Bellew had won this cup ever since he had come to Rockville, and it was a pretty safe bet that he would win it this year. But Shrimp would gladly exchange all the Wesley cups ever offered for that little red, white and blue pin, that only Bulldog Jones out of the whole school was privileged to wear. At an assembly of the pupils a few days later, Professor Prescott, the principal, an- nounced that a new sport was to be introduced in both Rockville and Greenfield Academies. “Didn’t know there was another new sport,” whispered Bulldog’s neighbor. “However I suppose you will be captain anyway.” “There will be an announcement on the bulletin board. We’ll see what it is later,” re- plied Bulldog, rather grandly. At recess as Bulldog approached the bulle- tin board, he saw an astonished crowd talk- ing loudly. “What’s the trouble?” he asked the first one he came to. “Huh, guess there’s one sport you’re not captain of,” was the not altogether satisfac- tory answer. Bulldog, his curiosity aroused, elbowed his way through the crowd and saw this poster: Debating Rockville vs. Greenfield April 10, 7.30 Candidates for the team report to G. Bcllciv, Capt. “Debating!” remarked a disgusted Bull- dog. “Are they turning this into a young ladies’ seminary ?” Bulldog went to New York with his father, and was gone for two weeks. The first per- son he met when he came back was Shrimp THE GOLDEN-ROD 19 Bellew. “Hello Shrimp, who won the debat- ing match?” Then suddenly catching sight of a pin on Shrimp’s lapel similar to his own, he exclaimed, “Where did you get that pin?” “Oh, this one you mean,” answered Shrimp, imitating Bulldog’s manner exactly, “I was captain of the first debating team that ever defeated Greenfield.” Then “the little runt” walked off. As Bulldog slowly followed him, his face broke into a broad grin, and he said to his chum, “Can you beat it?” “No I can’t,” answered his chum, “but such is life.” Roland Forsyth, T9. Snow-Bound Great excitement reigned among the mem- bers of Troop 2, Boy Scouts, as there was a photograph contest on, and about fifteen Scouts were entrants. That either Ted Wil- liams or Jack Knight, who were exceptionally fine photographers and Patrol Leaders of rival Patrols, would be the winner was the general opinion. Scout Master Wilson had offered a gold-plated cup as a prize for the winner, to be selected on Saturday, February 10, after six-thirty P. M.. All photographs were to come under the title, “Snow-bound.” Jack sent his specimen in on Friday and it certainly was a fine one, containing a story in itself. There was an old, dilapidated farm- house entirely coated with snow and ice, with a sagging roof and a crooked chimney from which rose a thin column of smoke. No paths had been shoveled and the surface of the two feet of snow lay undisturbed. From one of the large, front windows peered two small faces. Ted, evidently had not been as fortunate as Jack, for nothing had been heard of him at the club and several wondered what had hap- pened, but they knew that he would surely get his photo in before closing time. He went into the woods Saturday morning, however, and got his picture, but he was rather worried for fear it had been over-exposed, as he was cing_thc_sun when he snapped it. Hurrying half on Buff Enlarging paper. It was a beau- tiful scene of a small cave under a boulder, and near the opening lay a nest made of hay, leaves, twigs, and pebbles, held together with mud and clay. Curled up in it were three baby chipmunks which came out in their nat- ural brownish color on the Buff paper. On the outside, the snow had drifted up so that it resembled a small hut with the cave as an opening. Ted started out for the club-room with the photograph rolled up in the pocket of his over- coat. He was hurrying along whistling and was near the door when he heard a loud cheer and looking up saw his fellow Scouts in the window awaiting him. When he got inside he looked at the clock and saw to his surprise that it was six-twenty-five. After giving his picture to Mr. Wilson he walked over to the couch and lay down with as much indifference as he could fake. The fellows watched with interest the Scout Master as he eliminated photograph after photograph. By nine o’clock there were but two prints to choose from, Ted’s chipmunks and Jack’s farm-house. He studied them for fully forty minutes but he could not make his choice, so he decided to send them to a friend who was an expert photographer. The expert’s answer came with Thursday’s mail and he stated that were he the judge, he 20 THE GOLDEN- ROD How The Flashlight Helped “Father, will you please give me a half a dollar. I want to get a battery and a bulb for my flashlight, so that Everett Harding and I can signal to each other,” said Donald Reed a bright boy of twelve, to his father. “That’s all you want money for, batteries and bulbs for that old flashlight. It has cost me ten times what it is worth, but here, you may as well have this,” and he tossed a half dollar to his son. Donald went to the hardware store and got a bulb and battery for his light. That night he was signaling to his chum, Everett Harding, who lived across the street, by the dot dash method. That night Donald’s father brought home a large sum of money, which he was going to deposit in the bank, coming from the office, but when he arrived at the bank, he found it was closed, and as the office would be shut, he took the money home for that night, and put it into his own private safe. Little did he know two crooks followed him to the bank, to see whether the money was deposited. They knew that Mr. Reed’s company deposited money every two weeks. They would have robbed him when he was carrying the money to the bank only he went through the business section of the city. The two thieves planned to rob the house that night. They kenw that Mr. Reed had a safe but that did not bother them, for they were both experts in opening safes. That night with a companion, they entered the house by a window in the rear and crept into the dining room where the safe was. They started to try and open the safe, using different combinations but that failed. They had ex- plosives but did not want to use them except as a last resort. Donald’s father was a light sleeper and a slight noise would wake him. While one of the crooks was trying to open the safe, the others were guarding the stairs. Mr. Reed was awakened by the noise made by twirling the combination of the safe. Scenting trouble, he took his automatic and went downstairs to investigate. When he got to the foot of the stairs, the crooks leaped upon him, then bound and gagged him. But he had time to cry out for help two or three times. Donald was awakened by the confusion below him. The boy did not know what to do then he thought about his flashlight. He took the flashlight and flashed it into a large mirror, he placed the mirror in such a position that it shone across the street into Everett’s room. By constantly flashing the light, he woke up Ever- ett, whom he saw come to the window. Then by dots and dashes he flashe’d his message to Everett, telling him to telephone for the police, as his house was being robbed and he could not reach his telephone. Everett woke up his father who quickly telephoned for the police. The crooks were unable to open the safe by trying different combinations, and they de- cided to blow open the safe. Just as the door of the safe fell off, the police had surrounded the house. Then two policemen went in the same way as the thieves had entered. Finding themselves surrounded, the crooks gave up to the police. After the excitement had died out, the boys became interested in wireless, and to show his appreciation to the boys, Mr. Reed bought them a complete wireless set. THE GOLDEN-ROD 21 BOOK NOTES MODESTINE (Travels with a Donkey and an Inland Voyage R. L. Stevenson.) In his “Travels with a Donkey” Stevenson has clearly described to us the disposition of the average donkey. Now, Modestine was no exception to the rule. She was usually a meek, little creature, but, like all her sex, subject to occasional bursts of pettishness. She would be jogging amicably along at a snail’s pace, when, suddenly, she would come to a dead stop, refusing to move another inch. Light lashes from a whip would not make her budge, nor would sugar lumps, brought along for that express purpose. She might be coaxed and coaxed the whole day long, but that would not move her. The only thing to do would be to lash her legs vigorously with the donkey- whip. Then she would start, and when the spirit moved, go along at a good pace. Modestine was very sure-footed and min- ueting along would lift first one slender foot and then the other in such a graceful manner. Carefully would she go along down the hilly roads, her small feet culping the cobble-stones. Perhaps she would hear some distant noise and cock up her velvety ears and stop dead still. Then again, if you were not discouraged you would use all your persuasions to make her resume her jogging. Barbara G. Chambers, T7. WHEN A MAX’S A MAX The author, Harold Bell Wright, has chosen the cattle fields of Arizona, as the setting for a most interesting novel. The story deals with the trials of Lawrence Knight, a rather worth- less, young, Chicago millionaire, in his at- tempts to “make good.” As a cowboy on a western ranch, under the assumed name of Honorable Patches, he works hard to accom- plish the work dealt out to him, in order to win the love and respect of a girl with whom he is deeply in love. With his constant good- nature and stick-to-it-ivness, he finally wins out. He captures the rustlers, with whom he is suspected of being in league, and proves himself worthy of the trust and confidence of his friends. He then finds that his efforts have been in vain, as the girl, for whom he has been trying to make good, has married an- other man. The story is well told and the author evidently knows his subject well, but he is very cynical in his prejudices against city life. Albert Baker, 1917. THE COMING OF THE TIDE—AN IMPRESSION (Margaret Sherwood) A most interesting book full of beautiful color descriptions of the ocean at sunrise, noon� and sunset. Not much of a plot, but so at- tractive in other ways that the plot is scarcely missed. Author’s love of beauty brought out wonderfully. Charming characters who hold one’s interest all through the book. A South- ern girl, passionately fond of the water, whom everyone comes to love for her frankness and winning ways. An old man, well-posted on the characters of his ancestors, who later learns that he is adopted and must give up all reference to traits inherited from his sup- posed ancestors. A young man, made over from a woman-hater to a lover, through the influence of the pretty Southern girl. On the whole, a book well worth the time spent in reading. Mabel G. Merigax, 1917. LORNA DOOXE “Lorna Doone,” by R. D. Blackmore, is a story of country life in the west of England. The leading character is one John Ridd 22 THE GOLDEN-ROD through whose efforts a notorious band of out- laws, named Doone, is entirely annihilated. The heroine. Lorna Doone, is almost too fairy like to be human but for all that she is very lovable. Although the characters are for the most part dull and uninteresting, yet the story is exciting and well told and the descriptions are wonderful. “Lorna Doone” is probably one of the greatest books in Eng- lish Literature and any time consumed in read- ing it is certainly well spent. Mabel Derry, 1918. NINETY-THREE Ninety-Three by Victor Hugo is one of the best romances that I have ever read, for three reasons. The first reason is because it is so well planned. Each chapter has a certain definite end in view. Every time the action of the plot is stopped to go back to something, which at the time appears to have no bearing on the plot, there is a fixed purpose in the author’s mind. For instance, the first book seems to be of no use at all until in the mid- dle of the story, then the mother following her children takes a prominent place. It’s a fine example of literature. The second reason is because of its educa- tional qualities. This book depicts the condi- tions in France during the latter part of the Revolution. Victor Hugo presents a very graphic account of the hardships in all parts of the country, life in Paris and in the theatre of the war alike, being described. The high cost of living now-a-days had its duplicate in the year of ninety-three in France. The third reason is because the book is con- sidered one of the great classics. Any rom- ance, novel, or other form of literature which is in a class with Ninety-Three, is a good thing to read. It offers such a great opportunity to improve one’s composition and English by studying and copying the style. It is always a good plan, as in any line of work, to imitate the great masters. Ninety-Three is an educa- tion in itself. Harold Ewertz, 1917. ROBERT E. LEE The biography of Robert E. Ijzc by Gillman is the most readable biography I have ever had in my possession. It brings out Lee’s character in a most in- teresting way. at the same time giving a good idea and a true one of the conditions in the South at the time of the Civil War. If more Northerners would read this book, they would lose a great deal of their bitter feel- ing towards the South. It does not uphold the South in seceding from the Union in any way, but it shows that the South fought for what it believed to be right, and that is as much as anyone can do. There is one passage in the book summing up Lee as a general which I thought was especially good: “Lee was Caesar without his ambition, Frederick I without his tyranny, Napoleon without his cruelty, and Washing- ton without his reward.” This seems to be true throughout the entire book. He had no ambition, except to do right, he was fair and just at all times and dealt sympathetically with his soldiers. He never received a reward nor did he wish one. As time passes on and people overcome their narrow prejudices against Robert Lee, gain- ing a clearer and a truer idea of him. he will be respected more and -more as a man who at all times did that which he believed to be right without a thought of his own personal interests. No book can give a truer portrayal of Robert Lee and the South at the time of the Civil War than this account by Gillman. Florence M. Hoacland, ’19. THE GOLDEN-ROD 23 SCHOOL NEWS DEBATING CLUB The question for debate January 31 was: Resolved, that hockey and track should be substituted for basketball and baseball in the Quincy High School. The debaters were: (affirmative) Mullen, Cummings, and Walters; (negative) Gesmer, Baker, and Keyes. The negative received the decision. The appoint- ments for March 14 are: (affirmative) Marr, Mahoney and T. Nixon; (negative) H. Nixon, George, and H. Ewertz; reader, R. Ewertz. The question for the debate will be: Resolved, that the best lumber sections in our forests should be placed under federal con- trol. The following officers were elected for the next half year: President, Hugh Nixon. Vice-President, Russell C. Johnson. Secretary, John Cummings. Assistant Secretary, Harold Ewertz. Treasurer, Roland Newcomb. Entertainment Committee, Mullen, H. Nixon, and Keyes. Question Committees, Gesmer, Kendall, and Markham. Membership Committee, Mr. Fuller, Hig- gins, George, Carlson, and Mahoney. Nominating Committee, Peterson, Marr, Diamond, T. Nixon, and Nicholson. A committee consisting of Keyes, Johnson, and Higgins was appointed to arrange a dance after the vaudeville show has been given. Dimmick then gave an interesting reading. A meeting was held February 14. The ques- tion for debate was: Resolved, that the coast defenses should be strengthened. The dis- putants were: (affirmative) Peterson and Dia- mond; (negative) Markham. The affirmative received the decision. The appointments for March 28, are: (affirmative) R. Ewertz, Kendall, and Nicholson; ( negative) Johnson, Taylor, and Weymouth; reader, Mahoney. The question will be: Resolved, that Cuba should be annexed to the United States. Read- ings were given by Gesmer, Marr, Diamond, Mahoney, and Peterson. LATIN CLUB A meeting was held January 27 in the Hall. Miss Rogers sang several selections and Wey- mouth played four pieces on the violin. Miss Luke accompanied Miss Rogers and Wey- mouth on the piano. Reed and his sister, Lil- lian, give an interesting sketch and then Reed and Gesmer each gave several excellent read- ings. A Pin Committee consisting of Miss Russell, Dodge, and Gesmer was appointed. DRAMATICS The Debating and Thalia Clubs will present a vaudeville show March 9 and the members arc now perfecting their parts. From all in- dications the show will be a tremendous suc- cess. Our local stars, Bill Mullen, P. Oscar Jenkins, “Knock-Out” Keyes, Ted Higgins, and “Whitey” Peterson will be seen in action. Everyone who wants to have a good time should buy a ticket. MUSIC Plans are under way for a fine Spring Con- cert to be given May 15. A soprano and also a ’cello soloist will be secured by Miss Howes, who is directing the plans. The High School chorus, the Girls’ Glee Club, and the Mixed Glee Club will render selections, assisted by the Orchestra. SCHOOL An assembly was held in the Hall, Monday, January 29. Mr. Collins asked that any pupil who had found a bunch of keys should return it to the office and then discussed the matter 24 THE GOLDEN-ROD of order in the building after 1:15. He said that, owing to basketball, many pupils stay at school until the time for the game and while doing so make too much noise. These pupils were told that they would be asked to go away from the school until the time for the game if they could not be quiet. He also said that students must not reenter the school after the game to get their books and wraps. The Teachers’ Play, to be given Tuesday, February 13, was commenced, and the pupils were requested to advertise it. The proceeds will go to Miss Jackson, the school nurse, to be used by her. The tickets are twenty-five and thirty-five cents. LES ENIGMES ORIGINALES Je suis compose de trois syllables; Ma premiere est un metal que les femmes aimcnt beaucoup; Ma deuxieme et ma troisieme sont ce qu’il vaut mieux que rccevoir. Mon tout est ce que les officiers de l’armee font. •jauuopjQ Mon premier est 1c melat le plus utile; Mon second est la couleur, la plus pure; Mon tout est un autre melat tres utile. •Dinqq-JDj Harriot Barbour, T9. Mon premier est un fruit; Mon deuxieine est une preposition; Mon troisieme est ce que les riches possedent; Et mon tout est qucldiose precieuse a manger. 3JJ3X 3P suuuoj Mon premier est un habitant du del avec un accent aigu; Mon deuxieme est le participe passe du verbe lire au pluriel; Et mon tout est la cloche de nuit. •snjoSuy Catiierexe Merigan, T9. The Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute of Troy, N. Y., has been given $11,000 for the erection of a wireless station and will be glad to communicate with any students of the school who have wireless apparatus. • I “I cannot tell a lie.” The George Washing- ton luncheon, February 21 was “simply grand.” Creamed chicken, Washington salad, cherry pie, Washington pie and all garnished with American flags, fancy candle-sticks and red, white and blue garlands. Would that the Father of Our Country were here to enjoy it! Hugh Nixon, News Editor. Mon premier est un adverbe de lieu; Mon second est la troisieme personne au pluriel de pronoun. Mon tout est ce qui est necessairc pour lire les contcs franqais. xno Barbara Foley, T8. LOST AND FOUND COLUMN (Alger McLennan) LOST:—A Freshman between rooms 13 and 38. When last seen was wandering up second flight of stairs. If found, please return to office at once, as parents are worried. LOST:—Earl Winslow’s love of study. If found, please return to owner as he needs it very much. FOUND:—A sneaker size 15 7-8, in the gym Monday, Feb. 5, 1917. Owner may have same by proving property and paying for the advertisement. Apply at. Golden Rod Of- fice. LOST:—The school spirit which formerly prevailed at our athletic contests. Three hun- dred rooters are needed to fill the space left by the shirkers. FOUND:—A broken heart. Ask Percy Jenkins about it. THE GOLDEN-ROD 25 ALUMNI NOTES 1910 Annie Buckley is teaching in Chelsea. John Duggan is working for the Goodwin Tire Company. Lora Lamb is a teacher at the Adams School. Louise Daly has a teacher’s position in Wareham. William McDonald is a ship carpenter at Fore River. Everett Prout has passed the Massachusetts Bar Examinations and is now a full-fledged lawyer. 1913 Richard Ash and Arthur Williams are seniors at Tufts Medical School. William Dickson is working at the Lowell office of the Boston and Maine Railroad. Camille Fuller is attending Amherst Agri- cultural College. Frances E. Gronberg is working with the Quincy Trust Company. Michael Martin is a bookkeeper for the New York, New Haven and Hartford Rail- road Company. Edwin McDonald is a plumber at Fore River. Lawrence Newcomb is working in the office of the Tublar Rivet Company. Lillian Werme is a senior at Bridgewater Normal School. 1915 Roger Allen has a position with a wool con- cern. James Connor is a time keeper at Fore River. Walter Hinchon is a time keeper at Fore River. Alice Kenn is a bookkeeper with Walter Deacon and Company. Lydia Keyes is a “soph” at Mt. Holyoke. Harold McCormick is connected with the C. F. Hathaway Company. Albert McDonald is a clerk for the New England Telephone and Telegraph Company. Margaret McLennan works with the Pneu- matic Scale Company. Edna Miller works in the office of the United Rubber Company, Boston. Evangeline Morris has a position with a musical agency. William O’Donnell is employed by the Citi- zens’ Gas Company. Ellen Sandison works in the office of the Citizens’ Gas Company. 1916 Anne Atkinson is a stenographer at the Boston Gear Works. Dorothy Burgess is employed as a steno- grapher in a clearing house. Veronia Cheverie is a bookkeeper with the L. C. Page Company, Boston. Howard Haskins works at the Boston Op- tical Company. Augusta LaBrcquc is studying Shorthand and Typewriting at the Columbus Shorthand School. Spanish at Boston University, and Bookkeeping at Simmons College. Robert McCormick is working for the Gen- eral Electric Company of Salem. Russell Sanborn has a position drawing car- toons for the Edison Light Company Paper, the Edison Light. Annie Schlenker is employed as a book- keeper by the Boston Gear Works. Edwin Stephens is learning the trade of a machinist at the Tublar Rivet Company. Helen Townsend is studying music with Professor Buckingham. 1917 Agnes McCarty lives in Medford and at- tends the Medford High School. 1918 Philip Mooers is a student at Mt. Hermon Academy. Mildred M. Diack, Alumni Editor. 26 THE GOLDEN-ROD We gratefully acknowledge the following exchanges: Review—Newton, Mass. Industrial School Magazine— Golden, Col. Blue and White—Westbrook, Maine. Brewster—Wolfeboro, N. H. P. I. H. S. Flyer—Presque Isle, Maine. Tradesman—High School of Commerce, Boston, Mass. Voice—Lawrence High School, Falmouth, Mass. Lasell Leaves—Auburndale, Mass. Echo—Winthrop, Mass. Clarion—Portsmouth, N. II. Child's Work—Harvard School, Boston, Mass. North field Star—Northfield Seminary, East Northfield, Mass. The Lowell—Lowell High School, San Francisco, California. Gleaner—Pawtucket, R. I. Clarion—Everett, Mass. The Junto—Easton, Pa. COMMENTS We are pleased to have such a large number of exchanges, and we assure them that they are always welcome. It would please us to have some of our exchanges comment on our magazine, and show us how we may improve our paper. The pupils of the Harvard School deserve a great deal of praise for their efforts in pub- lishing a school paper. These youngsters cer- tainly seem to be interested in making the paper a success. We notice the absence of an exchange and alumni column in the Northfield Star. We fail to find an exchange column or table of contents in the Blue and White. Their literary department is commendable. The Industrial School Magazine is always welcome. It is a well-arranged and thorough- ly enjoyable magazine. Its exchange column is one of the best we have seen. Anna L. Cremins, Exchange Editor. QUINCY VS. READING (To music of “Where did Robinson Crusoe go with Friday on Saturday Night?”) Five or six weeks ago, and may-be more, At Quincy High School, on the old gym floor, A few lads from Reading blew in one fine day, (Come quite a way, had a hard game to play.) Papers all said they had a corking team, (And they sure did show some steam.) They played the game mighty fas’, Knew how to shoot and pass, But still, our own home team showed class. Chorus And what did the lads of Quincy do to the five from Reading, that night? Ev’ry other league game they had won with great ease, But our crack Quincy outfit brought them down on their knees. Oh! They had a great team but, when Quincy High met ’er They showed them the'team from old Quincy was better. And what did the lads of Quincy do to the five from Reading, that night? Norman L. Dodge, T2. THE GOLDEN - ROD 27 QUINCY 33, ROCKLAND 10 February 2, 1917. Quincy virtually swamped Rockland on the home floor. Quincy did not present its full strength in the first period, consequently there was an even tussle for a part of this period, Rockland lead- ing at one time, 8 to 7. Our boys overcame this handicap speedily, however, and the period ended with the score of 13 to 8. In the second and third periods Quincy presented its strongest line-up and Rockland was power- less, being able to score but two goals from fouls. Jenkins and LeCain were Quincy’s high scorers with four and three baskets, re- spectively. Billings put up a strong game for Rockland. Between periods, the seniors defeated the sophomores with a score of 26 to 3. QUINCY 35, ATTLEBORO 6 February 6, 1917. Quincy defeated Attle- boro in one of the fastest games of the sea- son on the home floor. Attleboro was far out- played in all phases of the game. Quincy en- tered the game with the expectation of a hard struggle, but Attleboro was utterly unable to break through Quincy’s defense. Attleboro scored but one basket during the whole game, the other points being the result of goals from fouls. Quincy on the other hand presented a speedy attack and scored almost at will. Every member of our team played a strong game; Jenkins led in the scoring with eight baskets, followed by Desmond with six. Between the periods, the seniors defeated the juniors 13 to 3, thus creating a top tie in the class league standing. QUINCY 22, CHELSEA 14 February 10, 1917. Quincy traveled to Chelsea and easily defeated the latter’s team. Our team exhibited a superior brand of team- work and at no time was its lead threatened. Chelsea was completely outclassed, being able to score but one basket in the first period. Beaton showed remarkable ability in dribbling up the floor. Jenkins and Williams excelled in foul shooting for Quincy and Chelsea re- spectively, Jenkins securing six goals out of seven tries and Williams eight out of eleven. Quincy’s second team lost to Chelsea with the score of 17 to 11. QUINCY 17, READING 13 February 13, 1917. Before a record crowd of spectators, Reading went down to defeat on the home floor in one of the hardest fought games of the season. The game was replete with thrills and brought the spectators to their feet time and time again. Quincy secured the lead at the start and scored five points in short order before Reading scored one. Jenkins started the scoring with a goal from foul and was followed by Beaton and Des- mond with spectacular baskets. The visitors secured no baskets in the first period, the 28 THE GOLDEN-ROD score standing at 5 to 2. Reading put a game rally in the second period, but Quincy managed to hold a lead of one point, the score being 10 to 9. The third period was a heartrending affair, both teams striving to the utmost to gain the advantage. Within five minutes of play Reading tied the score at 13. Quincy put on an added spurt, however, and brought the final score up to 17, at the same time holding Reading. Quincy’s whole team played the best game of its career, since a vic- tory afforded a chance to tie Reading for first place. McLeod excelled for Reading. The summary: Quincy Reading LeCain, O’Brien, rf..............lb, Gibbons Jenkins, If........................rb, Bangs, Stevens Desmond, c.........................c, Fowler, Keaney Beaton, rb................................If, McLeod Mullen, lb................................rf, Richards Score: Quincy 17, Reading 13. Goals from floor: Desmond 3, Beaton 2, Gibbons 2, Keaney, McLeod. Goals from fouls: Jenkins 7, McLeod 5. Referee: Cody. Umpire: Rem- mert. Scorer: Mansur. Time: one 20m. and two 10m. periods. Between the periods, the Quincy seconds defeated Reading by the score of 29 to 12. The game was an even tussle during the first period, but in the second and third periods, Quincy easily outstripped the visitors. Lozo- wick and Robbie starred for Quincy with seven and five baskets, respectively. QUINCY 9, HAVERHILL 22 February 16. 1917. In a rough game Quincy went down to defeat at the hands of Haver- hill on the latter’s floor. Haverhill outweighed our boys about fifteen pounds to a man and used this advantage to the utmost, playing a fast but rough game throughout, and em- ploying football tactics more than anything else. Haverhill led at the end of the first period by the score of 7 to 5 only, but suc- ceeded in gaining the advantage in the second half. Quincy, particularly Jenkins, put up a plucky game. QUINCY 10, CHELSEA 6 February 19, 1917. Quincy barely escaped defeat in the return game with Chelsea. Bea- ton was compelled to retire from the game early in the first period and with his departure Chelsea proceeded to make things interesting. It was an equal contest the whole way, the teams being separated by not more than one or two points during the progress of the whole game. The visitors scored three points in short order, but Quincy overcame this handi- cap and led at the end of the first period, 4 to 3. Chelsea regained the lead in the second period, the score being 6 to 5. In the third period, our boys, playing desperately, went into the lead and retained it. Both Chelsea and Quincy put up a stubborn game, the lat- ter realizing that chances for the champion- ship were at stake. The excellent defensive work of both teams prevented many tries for the basket. Chelsea showed a strong passing game. LeCain and Desmond performed pluckilv for Quincy; Williams excelled for Chelsea, in fact, he was Chelsea’s main works. The second team lost to Chelsea in a close game with a score of 17 to 15. Quincy held a lead of 12 to 10 in the first period but was unable to retain it. QUINCY 14, WINTHROP 12 February 22, 1917. Quincy defeated Win- throp in a fast and furious game on the holi- day. Winthrop put up a stubborn game and the issue was in doubt until the last moment. Fouls were frequent throughout the contest. Winthrop started with a rush, but because of continual infractions of the rules by that team, Jenkins was able to put Quincy in the lead through goals from fouls. Quincy had the advantage in this period, which ended with the score of 10 to 6. LeCain and Beaton each contributed a spectacular basket. In the second period Winthrop showed up much stronger, coming from behind and tying the score twice, at 10 and 11, through the medium of a basket and goals from fouls. Our boys THE GOLDEN-ROD 29 were able to score but one point during this period. In the third period, Quincy redoubled its efforts to win. The play raged from one end of the floor to the other, the score being tied for a considerable part of the period. Many close shots at the basket failed. Jenkins finally secured a goal from foul, and Des- mond’s shot at the basket, which counted be- cause of Winthrop’s infraction of the rule, gained the victory for Quincy. The hard-won victory of the boys put the team in a position to engage with Reading in the play-off for first place, provided that Reading win its last league game with Chelsea. The summary: Quincy Winthrop LeCain, rf........lb, Kennedy, Berry, Baker Jenkins, If.......................rb, Anthony Desmond, c.................c, Griffith, Talcott Beaton, rb..........................If, Burke Mullin, lb...............rf, Talcott, Murray Score: Quincy 14, Winthrop 12. Goals from floor: LeCain, Desmond, Beaton, Burke, Griffith. Goals from fouls: Jenkins 8, Talcott 8. Referee: Cody. Timer: Mansur. The Winthrop seconds received their first setback of the season at the hands of Capt. Kendall’s quintet. Quincy gained the advan- tage at the outset and led in the first period with the score of 6 to 3. Bailey and Lozowick scored baskets in this period. Winthrop pulled up on our boys in the second period and Quincy held a one point lead only, 12 to 11. The visitors were unable to score in the third period and the game was put on ice through a goal from foul and Lozowick’s basket. Quincy’s seconds put up their best game of the season; Kendall at back played an ex- cellent game. The summary: Quincy 2nd Winthrop 2nd Lozowick, If.................rb, E. Jenkins Robbie, rf...................lb, F. Jenkins Bailey, Dodge, c................c, Kennedy Taylor, lb...............................rf. Baker Kendall, rb..............................If, Verny Score: Quincy 15, Winthrop 11. Goals from floor: Lozowick 3, Bailey, Robbie, Baker, Verny 2. Goals from fouls: Lozowick 3, Robbie 2, Baker 5. TRACK The Q. H. S. relay teams were both beaten at the Huntington School indoor track meet on Feb. 17. The senior team was matched against Dorchester High and the midgets against Lynn English and Weymouth High Schools. In the midget race E. Lindsay started for Quincy and handed a lead of two yards over his Lynn English opponent to W. Shyne, who lost this lead and about two yards more. Bar- rows, the third runner, lost four yards. Al- though Maybury, Quincy’s fourth man, had about seven yards to make up, he ran a splen- did race, and almost overhauled his opponent, being beaten by about one foot only. The midgets ran a plucky race; their time was the fastest of the meet. Weymouth was a poor third in this race. The seniors did not come out so well. Mal- nati, the first man, lost about four yards, Wil- liams and Melville three each, and Herrich about four, the total number of yards being about fifteen. Webster Pierce, who ran in the mile, made the fatal mistake of staying in the rear too long. He remained behind about three-fourths of the race and then made a spurt. The effort of passing eight men was too much for him and he could not place. Owing to the late arrival of the train in Boston, Batts, who was entered in the dash, did not arrive in time to run. Although the teams were beaten, much credit should be given the boys as they had to run against some of the best school boy run- ners in Boston. HOCKEY The hockey team, shortly after the Milton game, after playing a practice game with the West Quincy Independents at the Wollaston rink was forced to disband for the season, be- cause of the scholarship deficiences of several of the players and because of adverse condi- tions all around. Due credit should be given Mr. John Fuller for his efforts to build up a hockey team this year. Henry Peterson, Athletic Editor. 30 THE GOLDEN-ROD Mr. Roache—“What is one of the natural resources of Alaska, Mr. MeNiece? McNiece—Er—ice. Mr. Lundin (explaining a theorem)— Can anyone give me any light on this the- orem ? Hedges—Got a match? Miss Dawes—When you fall on a slip- pery day you feel the ice shiver. Well, in some cases, like McNamara, Winslow, and Higgins, that may be true. But— Miss Thayer—What is a table? Larsen, '18—A table is a flat board with four legs and is generally used for serving meals. Miss Thayer—That shows where your mind is. R. Faulkner has indigestion, His stomach’s on the “fraud”; He’s just the man for us to put Upon the diet squad. The Class of 1917 elects the following to these honored positions: Class Flirt—H. Nixon. Class Spendthrift—McFague. Class Heater—Higgins. Class Lady Killer—Richmond. (Enough to kill any lady.) Class Politician—R. Faulkner. Class Dude—F. Baker. Class Brain—Peterson. Class Songster—Beaton. “Hank” O’Brien (boasting about Hough’s Neck)—Say, I am even a member of the 400. LeCain—Yes, you’re one of the ciphers. Miss Brooks—What is your sixth sense? Miss Oberg—Common Sense. Baker—Will you lend me your face? Keyes—What for? Baker—To go begging with. Keyes—Is yours worn out already? Last Wednesday night when Roy Walker was bidding “Adieu” to his lady friend, she was heard to say—Why, Roy, I am going to have you arrested for carrying concealed weapons. On investigating this clue we notice that Roy is trying to “raise” a mustache. THE GOLDEN-ROD 31 Miss Taber—Does a fat lady waddle off the car? Walters—No, she falls off. Heard in Room 8. Weymouth, ’18 (discussing Life of Chat- terton)—He ended his death by committing suicide. A Shattered Romance Youth winks Maiden thinks Mother spies Cupid flies. Miss Dawes—Nowadays a dramatist can- not have too many characters in a play to act upon a 40 by 70 stage. They would step on each other’s feet. Note—That must be the reason that Vien- na, Peterson, and B. O’Brien could never be actors. Oh, you number tens! Miss Dawes—Bailey, do you know you’re talking? Bailey doesn’t know whether he is living or dead when he strikes Room 23. Taylor, ’18 (boasting)—Why, I even dropped a ten dollar gold piece into the con- tribution box one Sunday. Ewcrtz, ’18—What was the matter with it? The ancient but honorable president of the senior class may be seen every night rehearsing before the mirror so that he will feel at home in the “sack” at the banquet. Jenkins (translating Latin)—Ganymedes was chasing the deer (dear) with his jave- lin. Miss O’Neill—That’s the only way to chase them now. W. E. Mullin, Joke Editor. 4kfk will-tWt nitar ■ntafc VoolilV -nt$S J,rl} vuitlt Ccle tl 4 rson. -tfccujKt k ;V)WI •« Owt.- R4I.I flatyna? TU Q. H.$ 134U tn� ! ,110. Tutor 0 Ctu f� at 1'0-nS I Tlfcl t O.Hiktvn M rr Ruggles Real Estate Co. INSURANCE Farms City Property Shore Property 19 Temple Street, Quincy Telephones Office 93 Residence 652-M The Dutch Food Shop Is still with you, and remember the good things which can be procured there. Cakes, Doughnuts, Pies Cookies, Jellies, Etc. BEALE ST. Phone 592 JOHNSON’S City Flower Store 1361 Hancock Street Has the Largest Assortment of CUT FLOWERS Flowers Arranged for All Occasions Tel. Con. SUE RICE 2ji0li (6raiie fUjntiigtraptia Studio | 1522 Hancock Street Phone 565-W “Your friends can buy anything you can give them except your photograph.” The National Mount Wollaston Bank ni i un tuning Wr u fi «0 u Spccialiston � 11 piano troubles m IUI H y Boston ollico JO BromtieldSt. ■ � 1 Telephone in residence. 13 years of factory experience and tuning instructor in Boston Conservatory of Music. Recommendations from manufacturers, dealers, teachers, colleges and the musical profession. Refers to his many patrons, among whom are Ex-Gov. Brackett, Hon. Samu’l W. McCall, J. J. Martin, Pres. Exchange Trust Co., E. Harold Crosby, Boston Foot Dramatic Editor and Critic, Ex-Mayor Campbell of Quincy. City Clerk Crane. .Mrs. John O. Holden. Mrs. W. H. Forbes of Milton. Messrs. John Buchanan. G. A. Tripp. L. D. Gurney, and many other Quincy and Wollaston people. Orders can be left in Wollaston at cither of Brook’s drug stores: in Atlantic at Brook's drug store: in Quincy at Carlson's periodical store, near depot; in Norfolk Downsat Mackey's drug store. FJZAAIKA.L O CKE RALPH COAL COMPANY 33 WESTON AVENUE WOLLASTON TEL. QUINCY 839-W YOU WANT THIS You want to look your best at all times. We want to offer you clothes clean- ing, pressing and repairing service that is second to none. Service that means lengthening the life of your apparel. THIS SERVICE IS FOR YOU Harry, The Tailor 1466 Hancock St. Patronize the GOLDEN-ROD and our advertisers HATS CLEANED TAN SHOES DYED BUY REAL ESTATE WOLLASTON SHOE HOSPITAL FROM AND BOOTBLACK PARLOR RICKER By our new machinery we are now able to do any work in the quickest possible time. Cigars, Cigarettes, and All Polishes ▼ THEO. DUSOPOL INSURANCE 300 Newport Ave. Wollaston, Mass. 1416 Hancock Street, Quincy Well, Boys, After Trimming Winthrop to the Tune of 14 to 12 a SHOWER, a SHAVE, and a HAIR CUT, neatly and correctly done, will make you feel bully. Our place is the right place for correct work and appreciative service. SAM SHELLMAN (Central Square Barber Shop) 1466 HANCOCK STREET Spaulding’s Special Models in Misses’ Corsets designed Sporting to give correct natural support to the growing girl Goods AT The Corset Shop Winer Hardware Store Mias Sarah E. Dunphy QUINCY SQUARE No. 8 Maple Street, Quincy, Mass. MURRAY EMERY CO. flbrinters anb JBmbers Cambridge Kendall Square i omero of (§tmb Sfljinp Plus Quick Intelligent Service bom of a Desire to Please You YOU’LL ENJOY SHOPPING HERE D. E. WADSWORTH MACULLAR PARKER COMPANY Give Special Attention to Clothing Boys and Young Men for School and College. Garments in Latest Styles and Fabrics. Made in Workshops on the premises. FULL LINE OF FURNISHING GOODS. STETSON HATS. 400 Washington St. Boston, Mass. J. G. Johnston Company Incorporated Manufacturing Imtitts Class Pins and Rings Medals and Cups Sudbury Building 79 Sudbury St. Boston, Mass. Phone 3291 Hay. tiPjc ( rapine Printers and L,inotypers Commercial, Society, Club, Mercantile, Book and Pamphlet Printing Nothing But the BEST at the Most Reasonable Prices 12 CENTRE PLACE, NEWTON, MASS. TEL. NEWTON NORTH 77