Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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

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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

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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-