Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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

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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-

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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,