Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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16 THE GOLDEN ROD THE PRODIGAL SON Heedless of the fierce storm that raged without, the aged couple gazed into the fire before them. They were dreaming of one who, since his departure a few years previous, had been the subject of many an earnest and heart-felt prayer. In fact, since John Harvey’s birth, his parents had prayed constantly for his welfare. Tonight, as they sat there, each wondered if God would answer their prayers; and each wondered if their prayers were too late. The sweet-faced old lady broke the silence. “Father,” she murmured feebly, “somehow or other I feel that John is very near me tonight. I—I really think he is on his way home.” “Tut-tut!” replied the old man assum- ing a very harsh tone of voice. “He seems near to you because it was just such a night as this when be bade us good-bye. Then he continued bitterly, “We ought to be proud of our grateful boy. Think of the way he treated us after the many years we skimped and saved in order that he might go to college. Most likely he’s serving a time in jail and therefore is ashamed to write us.” “Father!” cried his wife, and she stared at him with tearful eyes. The expression of pain that passed over her countenance caused the old man to repent his rash statements. “Father,” she repeated, “you don’t mean what you say. Deep down in your heart you know there is still a chance for our boy to make good in the world. You know that some day he will come home to us, and—” Unable to continue she broke into sobs. “Mother, my dear, brave comrade! I wouldn’t be able to bear the loss of our boy if it wasn’t for you.” “Let’s continue to hope and pray,” she whispered. “John did what most country boys do when they reach the crowded, pleasure-loving city.” For the first time during the evening the two realized what a bitter, stormy night it was. Terrific storms were com- mon in the north-central part of Maine, but tonight the wind seemed unusually fierce as it howled and whistled through the evergreens, now covered with snow. “Father, what was that noise?” sud- denly gasped the old lady. “Why, Mother, I do believe you’re hearing things. It’s nothing but the wind.” “I was just thinking how awful it would be if John should attempt to come home in this storm. No one could ever come through it alive.—We are getting old, Father. We have but a short space of this life left and oh!—I could not die without seeing my boy, or at least without the assurance that I was to meet him later.” “There’s no use, my dear, if he is spending his time gambling and drinking as Farmer Nathan’s son said he was doing two years ago.” “Listen! There! I knew I heard something at the door. Hurry! I know it’s John.” The old farmer opened the door and a young man covered with snow tumbled into the kitchen. The two bent forms welcomed the stranger. Their eyes dim with age did not recognize him. “John, is it you?” cried the mother eagerly. “Ye-es,” stammered the young man and he fell prostrate to the floor. Two pairs of hands worked over the boy, but alas!—he did not regain con- sciousness. In the middle of the night the tired old man fell asleep, but the faithful, gray-haired mother watched the sleeping form through the long, quiet hours. While her husband slept John Harvey’s mother made a discovery! A burden was lifted from her heart, and the tears she shed were tears of joy.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD lo Essays Modeled after Addison (Anyone desiring to see original copy may find it in Room 8.) EDUCATION OF THE MODERN GIRL {From the Daily Observer) Some months ago as I was walking down Hancock Street, one of the main streets of Quincy, Massachusetts, I chanced to meet a student of the Quincy High School. Being much interested in the education of the modern girl, I chatted with her for a few moments. Indeed, the height of learning reached by this young lady was amazing. She in- formed me that she liked to go to this school but they made her study awfully hard. She said she only had a chance to go to the “movies” two or three times a week. Her range in reading was wide. Her favorite authors were Robert W. Chambers, Arthur B. Reeves, Ralph Henry Barbour, Zane Gray and Gene Stratton Porter, who, she declared, wrote “swell” books. She had also read two of Shakespeare’s plays and three of the Nine Orations of Cicero. From all this I gathered the idea that her education had been along very varied lines. As she has had such a very wide range of reading it has given her a particular way of thinking, so even her dress, speech and manners arc affected by it. —Gladys Fletcher, ’21. ADVERTISEMENTS Powdered Wigs at Cranby’s Shop. Ye Old Corner Book Shop. Books on sale today at low prices. Crawfords Coffee House. Take a mug of ale and a bit of cheese and be merry.—Mary Townsend, ’21. Lost! A man’s shoe, with high heel, large silver buckle and size, y2 inside. Finder please bring to 71 Tory St. Re- ward. Buy your “Night Owl” early; avoid the rush. Thank ye. —Esther Campbell, ’21. THE CLUB (From The Taller) The first member of the Bachelors’ Club is Mr. Rocks, a venerable old man, known throughout the country as a profiteer. He made his money buying sugar at seven cents a pound and selling it at eleven cents a pound. He is a bachelor because he cannot help him- self, not through any fear on his part of the bonds of marriage. Another member is Mr. Oil, who dur- ing the war was famous for his marvelous ability in giving a pint of gasolene short in every gallon. In this way this man became rich and powerful in the world of business. He has never tried mar- riage because he thinks it is too expensive a proposition for a multi-millionaire. The third member is an army man, his father having gotten him a commission through his “pull” at headquarters. This poor fellow went across the Potomac to Washington and was stationed in the Ordnance Department. There he slaved like a beast for two hours a day, signing checks and looking out of the window at the Yeomen (F) in the street. He never married because he thought it would take away from his glory as a hero of the great war. The last member of the club is a post named Archibald A. Anderson. The poet has all his work published, since he owns a magazine. He did not enlist be- cause he thought the service uniform un- becoming to him, and, since he weighs nearly three hundred pounds, this is not to be wondered at. He is a bachelor because his poetic soul has never felt a longing for a mate. There are a few other members but I have selected these as the most virtuous and the best examples to be shown the public. —John Laverty, ’21.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 17 Just as dawn was breaking the young man went Home. The sorrow-stricken old father was puzzled by the new light that brightened his wife’s careworn face. She answered his look of inquiry by handing him a crumpled letter. He read: “Dear Father and Mother:— When you receive this letter I will be in Heaven. I went astray but He has forgiven me and is taking me Home. I came to France with the other boys, and God knows how hard I fought to make up for the wasted years of my life. I am going quickly but I will meet you in Heaven. With love, Your son, John. P. S. Capt. John Lane, my pal, is bringing you this letter and also my medals. John.’’ —Margaret Johnson, ’20. It’s the little things that count. Let us cleanse them for you. Satin and Kid Slippers Gloves Boudoir Caps Spats Fancy Collars Ties Furs Scarfs Feather Boas Ostrich Feathers Shawls Fancy Pillow Tops “IN FACT—MOST EVERYTHING” WARS HAW’S CLEANSERS AND DYERS Founded 1892 QUINCY MILTON 1503 HANCOCK ST. PIERCE SQUARE E. MILTON PLANT AND OFFICE PROJECTA ROAD Call Quincy 2873-We’ll Call Teacher: (To a 1923 who has just come in late) “Where do you come from?” 1923: “From Scotland, sir.” Mr. Nickerson: (to a freshman in Ancient History) “Why were the Spartan youths trained for a military life?” Ignorant Freshman: “So that when they went into the front line trenches they would be good soldiers.” Parris: (conducting an English recitation and discussing the use of the dash in Washington’s Farewell Address). “Has any one seen this punctuation used before? No one has. I haven’t.” (From the steam pipes, you know) Bang! Crash! Biff! Slam! Besse: “Mr. Hart is practising for the High School orchestra.” Mr. Roache: “When was New York settled?” A low voice from the rear of class: “July first.” Mr. Thomas: (speaking of solutions) “I can see ‘French’ through this solu- tion.” Mr. Blanchard: “Tomorrow is always the next day.” Why, so it is.