Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Text from Pages 1 - 60 of the 1922 volume:

ths'eftfclfc I i Of XLhc $olfc en 1Rofc Quincv, Mass. Volume XXXII February 14, 1922 No. 2 Zbe (5ol5en lRo5 PUBLISHED BY THE PUPILS OF QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL Address—The Golden-Rod High School : : Quincy, Mass. FEBRUARY, 1923, STAFF OF GOLDEN ROD Edit or-in-C kief___________________Edmund Johnson Literary Editor____________________Eleanor Akin News Editor---------------------------John Reed Alumni Editor---------------.Mary Driscoll Exchange Editor-------------Emily Stewart Athletic Editor------------Herbert Berman Jokes Editor ______________ Wayne Belding Art Editor_______________Gertrude Corcoran Business Manager----------Edward F. Savage Assistant Bus. Mgr____Laurence Whittemore Assistant Bus. Mgr-------------------Ethel Dark THE NEW STAFF As announced before, this number of the Golden Rod and the one following are in the hands of the February 1923 staff. The staff hopes that all who con- tributed to the success of the first issue will keep up the good work, and those who were backward will come across and push. Sophomores and Freshmen, this means you! The sale of the Golden Rod in your classes fell far below expectations. Wake up! The Golden Rod belongs just as much to you as to the upper classes. WELCOME, FRESHMEN! Welcome, Class of February, 1926! We have hopes that you will prove your- selves one of the best Freshman classes ever entered at Quincy High. You are especially fortunate in entering at a time when school activities are in their full swing and ready to receive you. Step in and help push them along. This is the way to prepare yourselves for your duties as Seniors. An excellent way to get ac- quainted with school life and spirit would be to buy and read the Golden Rod. REPORTS Already the second reports have been received and the half year mark passed. To some this meant joy and satisfaction with the knowledge of work well done. To some this meant the disappointment of bitter failure. Some of these failures may have been from hard-working students. Such may be consoled by George Eliot’s saying, “Failure after a long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a fail- ure.” Whether you are one of the unfor- tunate or one of the “never tries,” make a resolution today to make the remainder of the year the banner season in Quincy High. Show the world that Quincy High School is “looking up.” The staff is very sorry that Doris Cra- pon received no acknowledgment for her story, entitled “Yours truly,” in the last issue. 4 THE GOLDEN-ROD BASKET-BALL ONCE MORE Once more, Quincy High has a basket- ball team with a regular prepared inter- scholastic schedule. The ban is off this great winter sport, in which Quincy made such a formidable reputation a few years ago. Already a number of games have been played, and the showing of the team indicates a successful season. But, bas- ket-ball fans, you realize, do you not, that your conduct at the games decides whether or not this privilege will last long? Therefore, it is necessary for every one, in the excitement, to remember to act like a real sport and keep “the lid” off basket-ball. Teachers! Where are the sage proverbs and verse selections that contained so much of earthly and divine wisdom which had a conspicuous place on the boards last term? They would be welcome back. OUR LIBRARY The reader’s attention is called to the library column in the school news section. The whole student body should be inter- ested in this column, as it represents one of the most important departments of the whole school. Quincy High is very fortu- nate in having such a library within the school. It is a fact that Quincy High has the largest library of any school in the vicinity. That the library is filled to an overflowing condition before and after school and at recess shows that the major- ity of the school body are taking advan- take of this great convenience, and find it an indispensable asset to their school work. But have you ever thought that there are many enjoyable things in the library which can be found and appreci- ated only at your leisure? If your studies permit it and you have a spare study period, why not spend it browsing around the library? You will find that the librarian has the time then to answer your questions in a far more comprehensive manner than at rush periods. In this way our library could be run at full blast all the while, as it should. Show your appre- ciation of the librarians’ effort to build up the library. EDITORIAL Shortly after the first copy of the Golden Rod came out, the staff received an anonymous letter from “A Senior” criticising the manner in which the news editor had reported about the two staffs of the Golden Rod. The criticism was as follows: “On page nine of the first number of the Golden Rod the article, ‘Class News,’ says that the September, 1922, class elected its staff, ‘the members of which will be found in the first page of this issue.’ I was exceedingly disappointed in my search, though I examined diligently— even with a microscope—for a trace of the members. Would you advise me to try a higher powered microscope, used for the detec- tion of minute organisms,, or should I visit an optician?” Now, the staff is most grateful for any criticism that is offered by a student of the school whose first thought is wholly for the improvement of his school paper. However, when a person writes in this mood, which seems to be a wholly mali- cious and spiteful one we are in doubt whether to accept it or not. Furthermore, a student who is afraid to put his or her name to his assertions is hardly to be noticed. We could have easily found out who the student was who wrote such a sar- castic criticism. However, we concluded that it was not worth the trouble and that the student, reconsidering since, would be highly embarrassed if we discovered who he was. We hope that in the future any student passing in a criticism will not forget to put his or her signature to his work, for it will receive a great deal more attention and respect. The Christmas concert certainly was a great success, giving everyone a great deal of enjoyment for five cents. Surely we are all looking forward to another in the near future. Speaking of concerts, the Quincy Teach- ers’ Association deserves praise for secur- ing the Harvard Glee Club for the concert January 10, 1922. THE GOLDEN-ROD 5 WHERE, OH, WHERE ARE THE FUTURE MARK ANTON YS? Last, but not least, among the institu- tions of this progressive High School is the Debating Society. It seems as though the Quincy High School Debating Society had this year been entirely overlooked in the maelstrom of our happy-go-lucky High School life. Desperate efforts are being made by the members to stave off a lean year. We call for your personal help. We await your response. The Q. H. S. D. S., when its member- ship is complete, which so far this year is far from being the case, is composed of fifteen Seniors, ten Juniors, and five Soph- omores. Meetings are held every other Thursday at 7.30, beginning with the first Thursday in October, ending with the last regular meeting in June. At every meet- ing a prepared debate on some current topic takes place between two of the sev- eral teams which compose the Society. The execution of business, discussion and expression of personal opinions on the subject debated is the regular procedure. Now and then a lecture, or an interesting talk, or adjournment to the gym for bas- ket-ball varies the usual course. Once, usually toward the end of the year, a ban- quet and dance, or an outing, or a theatre party is held, the condition of the treasury permitting. The training of the future orators and lawyers is supervised by Mr. Jewell, as- sisted by Mr. Dawson, a Harvard man, well versed in the age-old art of oratory. This year, unlike previous years, appli- cations for membership have been few. We do not believe that this implies a lack of earnest, desirable men, men who are looking into the future, who wish to learn how to stand on their own two feet and say what they mean in a straightforward, logical manner. Unfortunately, there are very, very few students who can safely say they can do this. Who has not secret- ly dreamed of swaying vast audiences with a golden flow of oratory? Which one of you has not envied the ease and grace and the connected flow of speech of some plain, quiet-spoken man in contrast with his own stumbling, stuttering red-faced delivery? Take, for instance, the case of the Alumni a short while ago. Every one of them who achieved a fair measure of suc- cess formerly belonged to the Q. H. S. D. S. But this is only a minor example. Fellow classmates: the Q. H. S. D. S. will show you the way to be able to say what you want to say in the right way. No, girls, you are natural-born speakers. Two debates have been arranged for this year—Quincy High vs. Everett High, January 27; Quincy vs. Cambridge Latin, in March. The caliber of these opponents shows the quality of Quincy High’s debating teams. SOMETHING NEW Science students, attention! How in- terested are you in your study? Are you one of those who are fortunate enough to have a radio set? Are you interested in machines or any other practical side of science? If you are, the Golden Rod staff invites and urges you to tell about it in the next issue. This should be both interesting and helpful to every one. Per- haps some other fellow is puzzled by something which you understand. Explain it to him. Perhaps through this column you can make the acquaintance of some- one interested in the same thing you are. Perhaps you can awaken another student to the interesting side of science. Let’s hear from you. VALENTINE’S DAY Valentine’s Day? From the appear- ance of our corridors one would judge that Quincy High had a perpetual Valentine’s Day. This fault, or bliss, spread widely through the school is most pronounced in the upper classes, as we see w. k. faces strung plentifully along the second floor corridor and occasionally a beleaguered couple seeking solitude on the third floor. If only some of the science students could invent a method of sending the vision of the enchanting physiognomy to the en- chanted along with telephone calls so that the faculty need no longer be annoyed by these victims of the mischievous Cupid! THE LAND OF THE LOST It was gone. There was no doubt of that. Search high, search low, my foun- tain pen was nowhere to be found. I could have sworn that it had rolled under the bookcase; yet the flashlight revealed nothing. Exasperated, I dropped onto the davenport before the fire and watched the shadows flicker across the ceiling. Finally, disgusted and perplexed, I mut- tered to myself, “I don’t see why I can’t find it.” “You don’t, eh?” piped a squeaky voice, bubbling with laughter. With a start, I jerked my head in the direction of the sound, and there I saw— well—you probably won’t believe me, be- cause scientists say that they don’t exist outside of fairy tales—but I saw, with my own eyes—a gnome. His wizened little face crinkled into a maze of furrows as he peered at my flab- bergasted countenance through a pair of horn spectacles, perched precariously on a blab of a nose. His hands, peeping from the mysterious depths of his sleeves, seemed to be poised, prepared to swoop down and snatch something away. “Well, who on earth are you?” I gasped. “Oh, I’m not of the earth. Can’t you see my badge of office?” he answered im- patiently, holding a clutching hand beau- tifully worked in gold, which dangled from a long chain about his neck. The fingers of this hand seemed to be ani- mated with the eagerness of a lion watch- ing unsuspecting prey. They so fascinated me that I forgot to answer the gnome, who was waiting expectantly. “Stupid! Don’t you understand yet? Come on, then, and I’ll show you.” So saying, he clambered onto one end of the davenport and slowly waved his wand above his head. The davenport glided forward like a roller coaster, gaining momentum all the time, while the walls receded till I thought I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Then, without any warning, the davenport shot over an abyss. There I sat, my eyes bulging from my head, every nerve and muscle tense, watching the hea$of the davenport reluctandy dip down. Then an agonizing pause before we dived into what seemed to be eternity. Down, down we shot. I felt as if my stomach had lagged far, far behind, yet was still connected to me by some tugging elastic band. After ages, a patch of hard earth jumped up to meet us. I took a long breath, shut my eyes, and awaited the inevitable impact, but much to my surprise we floated gently to a resting place. It was not until I had collected my scat- tered senses and the lagging parts of my anatomy that I discovered we were in the shadow of a towering wall. The old man was standing in front of a curious gate. “Hey! you lazy mortal!” he cried with impatience, “come on.” “If you please, sir,” I said as meekly as possible, “where are we and what are we going to do?” At this, the gnome danced up and down with rage, shrieking: “You numb-skull! Why, you ought to have guessed that long ago! What were you doing during our pleasant ride down? You—-you—” Here he paused, inarticulate with fury. I took the safest course and kept quiet. Then he said: THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 “If you must know, this is the land where everything you mortals call lost is kept. My brothers and I go up to earth and carry away everything lost or likely to be lost that we possibly can. Do you wish to inspect the place?” As he led the way through a dark tun- nel, I heard him mutter, “Lord, what fools these mortals be!” The walls of the tunnel pressed closer and closer around me, till at length I could stand it no longer. Just as I was about to protest, the next step brought me into broad daylight. I turned to look back through the tunnel, but was confronted by a blank wall with a tiny hole in it. “Did I come through that?” I gasped. “Yes. Our gates are constructed so as to admit anything, but I don’t believe a pin could get out.” He led the way across the bare room into another room beyond. As he opened the door, a babel of complaining voices struck my ears, while mischievous-looking gnomes passed in and out. “Mother, I can’t find my watch,” I heard the whining voice of an American boy say. Immediately a gnome jumped up and rushed past me, grinning impishly. “This is our information room. Here we find out about the things lost on earth,” explained my guide. “ ‘I can’t’ is a great little phrase. Once uttered, your grip on your possessions is weakened, and it is much easier to snatch them away. We’re going to give you your pen simply because you said, T don’t see why I can’t’ instead of the usual T can’t.’ While the others are preparing the presentation ex- ercises, I’m going to show you our collec- tions.” He passed into a long corridor. On either side were enormous compartments in which lost articles were stocked. My head reeled as we went by piles of um- brellas, heaps of needles, tons of pins, and stacks of small change. My companion paused at the threshold of a spacious room. In the center was a neat little pile of papers. “This is where we keep lost home-les- sons.” “Why, surely there must be lots more than that; they vanish by the dozen at Quincy High.” “So there are. The room is full of them, but the rest are imaginary and can’t be seen.” I was then led out-of-doors to a large lake teeming with fish. The size of the perch, bass, and trout that kept the water fiecked with foam was astonishing. “This lake is the final abode of the fish- that-got-away.” I noticed one fish which had the ap- pearance and characteristics of a minnow, but the dimensions of a whale. “Who lost that one?” I asked. “You did.” Then and there I privately resolved to keep my next lost fish down to ten inches. Reaching the summit of a gentle slope rising from the lake, I saw a level plain stretching to the horizon, crowded with countless herds of goats. “What are these here for? Why, there aren’t that many on earth.” “Didn’t anyone ever get your goat?” asked the gnome. “People lose ’em all time. See that big herd? Well, they all belong to you.” I stared at my herd of goats till my reverie was broken by the voice of my conductor shouting, as he seized my hand, “Get a move on; we’re two minutes late to the presentation.” The next thing I remember I was standing on a platform before a vast audi- ence of gnomes, while one of their number presented my pen to me. Amid thunder- ous applause, I bowed to the audience. A shrill, insistent cry of “Speech! Speech!” smote my ears like waves beat- ing upon the shore. My heart pounded wildly; my face turned brick-red; my hands grew so large that I couldn’t hide them anywhere; I opened my mouth; not a word could I utter! The faces of the gnomes, grinning diabolically, swam be- fore me.” “She’s losing her self-possession! Let’s grab it!” they shrieked. As they rose en masse to take it away, the horrid vision grew blurred and gradually faded away. I found myself once more on the daven- port, my pen in my hand, gazing at the dancing flames. How did it happen? That, my reader, I leave to you. Dorothy Kinner, ’23. THE GOLDEN-ROD 8 TUNNELL 17 I “I’ll go.” It was Tom Jackson who spoke these words firmly as he reached for his cap and walked toward the door. Tom and the other members of the Jack- son family were spending the summer in their cottage at Pinecliff, in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. That evening Tom’s ten-year-old brother, Frank, had fallen off a ledge of rock and broken his leg. There was no doctor nearer than El- dorado, four miles away. The shortest way there was to follow the railroad track. It hugged the sides of the mountains above deep canyons, ran through long, dark tunnels, pierced through the very hearts of massive moun- tains, and crept cautiously over tall, thin trestles, built at dizzy heights over roar- ing mountain streams. “My! I hate to see you go, Tom, but it’s hurting him so badly, and now that you’re sixteen years old, I guess you can take care of yourself,” said Tom’s mother. “Good luck, Tom,” called Mr. Jackson. With his flashlight, Tom picked his way down the hillside to the railroad track and started for Eldorado. There were seven tunnels on the road between Pinecliff and Eldorado; some long, some short, some straight, some crooked, but the one that was considered the most dangerous on the whole railroad was Tunnel 17, the last one before reaching Eldorado. Under ordinary circumstances, Tom would not have gone through the tunnels, for if a person is caught in a tunnel when a fast train comes through, he will prob- ably be sucked under the wheels, and whether the train is fast or slow, he will be suffocated by the smoke. However, Tom had to get a doctor, and get him quickly, and it would take most of the night to get to Eldorado, if he climbed over every mountain through which there was a tunnel. Besides, there was no train until morning, according to the schedule, so Tom felt pretty safe. He walked the first mile and a half using his flashlight most of the way, be- cause the moon had not yet risen. The first tunnel was short and straight. Just as he came out, he heard footsteps far ahead of him, and, as they came nearer, Tom could hear the steady crunch-crunch- crunch of hobnailed boots in the gravel I and cinders between the tracks. Was it a tramp? Was it a train bandit? Was it some wild Mexican? After about five minutes of this nerve-trying suspense, Tom made out the figure of a large man a few feet in front of him. The man said pleasantly, “How d’ y’ do, stranger?” Tom answered, and with a sigh of relief went on. As he came out of the second tunnel, the moon peeked over the crest of a low mountain. It shone through the rarified atmosphere so brightly that the night seemed almost as light as day. A night hawk swooped down not more than five feet in front of Tom, and in the distance a lone coyote let out a most doleful howl. Tom could hear the roaring of the stream in the canyon below him, and once in a while, between the trees, he would get a glimpse of the dashing waters. He was used to these natural sounds, and so they did not bother him. Tom kept on. In about an hour he had gone through the sixth tunnel, and less than a quarter of a mile ahead was 17. As he approached it, he looked at the spot of black darkness that marked the mouth of the treacherous tunnel. He looked up at the mountain towering above him, with the pines on its sides outlined against the rich, dark blue, star-sprinkled sky. Then he thought of his small brother suffering with his broken leg. He must go through the tunnel. He entered and walked along a straight stretch. Then there was a curve for about one hundred yards. Tom had just turned onto a stretch of straight track about two hundred yards in length when Toot-Toot- T’toot! A train was coming! The thoughts that swirled through Tom’s mind were something like this: “’S coming from that way! No, that side! Which? Dunno—maybe—” The echo of the whistle was thrown back and forth from cliff to cliff and mountain to mountain, now on this side, now on that, as if mocking him in his predicament. He knew that if he tried to run out he might trip, fall, and break a limb. Be- THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 sides, he did not know which way the train was coming. It was too far to run in so short a time, anyway. He wondered if the dark-colored suit he wore would show up against the smoky walls of the tunnel. The only thing he could do was to trust to luck that the engineer would see him. He held onto a post on the wall and was ready to lie down flat on the ground where the smoke would be the thinnest, and where he could hold on to the post to try to keep from being sucked under the train. All this happened in about twelve sec- onds, but it seemed three minutes to Tom. He could hardly keep himself from starting to run out as hard as he could, but he knew it would be a crazy thing to do. So he stood there while the roar of the locomotive became louder. There was the glare from the head- light! The great engine lurched around a curve, straightened out, and with the cars rumbling after it started toward Tom. When it had covered about fifty yards— clank! There was a terrific jar which knocked the rear wheels of the locomotive a foot in the air, and—but that was all Tom saw, for the jar had disconnected the headlight, and the locomotive was fly- ing towards him in the dark! Instantly he whipped out his flashlight and waved it frantically in the air. There was a deafening hissing as the air brakes were thrown on. The train stopped about nine yards in front of Tom. He ran up to the engineers cab. “What’s this?” demanded the engineer savagely. “That’s what I’d like to know,” said Tom. Then Tom told of his experience, and the engineer calmed down. The engineer said that this was a special train, hired by some business men who were putting through a big deal for a gold mine. He also said: “If my headlight had been on, I could not have seen you, because your brown suit wouldn’t have shown up against these dark walls. And as I had orders not to stop for anything, I would have gone right ahead without my headlight if you hadn’t flashed that light of yours.” They went back to the place where the train had been shaken up. Through the thickening smoke they saw that a tie at the joining of two rails had been under- mined by a small underground stream, and as there was nothing to support the rail, the engine had been thrown forward for a second or two. While Tom and the engineer were look- ing at the track, the fireman came up and, looking at Tom’s dark-colored suit and the smoky walls of the tunnel, then at the engine with its dead headlight and at Tom’s flashlight, he said to Tom: “Boy, I guess it’s a good thing for you that tie was washed out.” “It certainly was,” agreed Tom. Eliot Weil, Sept., ’24. JOKES On an examination paper: Pilgrim’s Progress was a book written by Benjamin Franklin about the pilgrims who came over here in 1620. A diller, a dollar, a nine o’clock scholar, Why did you not make haste? Sorry, sir, the pupil said, but there’s a girl in the case. White: Jerry, what’s a good remedy for a headache? Golden: Stick you head through a window and the pane will be gone. Cole’s Bad Breaks Cole: I saw a negro funeral today and behind the hearse walked a number of mourners with pails. Listener: Why the pails? Cole: Going blackburying. Listman was lying quite still after being jumped on by five of the opposing team and when Mitchell came up and said, “He’s unconscious,” Listman moved slightly and replied, “No, I ain’t, either.” “Shut up,” said Cole, “Mitchell knows best.” 10 THE GOLDEN-ROD JACK Dear Reader: I am writing this introductory note to give you an idea of what the following letters are about. The members of English E 1A had been reading “Adrift on an Ice-Pan ’ by Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, and we had been very much interested in his dogs, espe- cially in his little retriever, Jack. When we finished the story we wondered if Jack was alive or dead, and so all of us wrote letters to ask Dr. Grenfell about him. The best letter, which was written by Louise Roberge, was chosen and sent to Dr. Grenfell. Her letter and his reply are printed here. Sophie Kaufman, English Division E 1A, Room 12. Quincy High School, Quincy, Mass., December 19, 1921. Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, Grenfell Association, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York. Dear Sir: You don’t know who I am, but I have heard a great deal about your work. I am just a Freshman at Quincy High School. We are reading your thrilling story, “Adrift on an Ice-Pan,” and I assure you that the whole class is very much inter- ested in it. The other day a question came up in class as to whether your dog Jack is still alive. As no member of the class could answer it, our teacher suggested that we write a letter asking about it. Everybody is trying hard. If you answer my letter, do you mind if we submit it to our school paper, “The Golden Rod”? If you ever come to Quincy and have any spare time, we cordially invite you to visit our school. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am, Yours very truly, Louise Roberge, English Division E 1A, Room 12. 20 Beacon Street, Boston 9, December 20, 1920. Dear Miss Roberge: Yes, Jack is very much alive still, but it is only in the realms of memory and in- spiration that he lives. His poor, affec- tionate little body lies sleeping in the frozen North, but whenever I hear his name he seems to speak to me to be true and loving and unselfish and brave as he Was; so, you see, he lives still, and that is why I hope all die children want to live so that they will never die, but always live on in inspiration to those who come after them. And so with the next generation in the Quincy High School when those that are there today are in the realms where I believe Jack is—the place that is reserved for all that is beautiful and noble and unselfish. You certainly can do anything you like with what I write to you. If I cannot get time to come to speak to the school my- self, there are a number of friends here who know all about our work, and, I am sure, would be glad to come and give a little talk to the school about Labrador and its people. Sincerely yours, Wilfred Grenfell. REAL OBJECTION OF CATULLUS (As Seen by a Junior) 0 Cicero! with speech of world above, Irresistible in argument, immovable in debate, Man of parts, of wisdom, with patriot’s zeal, If in you there is the slightest love Of fellow man — leave Catiline’s hate, Leave your tale of woe for the public weal. Actions speak louder than words, And deeds are reckoned more Than speech; wherefore, cease to weary The helpless schoolboy and the men of forum; Would not the allies welcome you, as if Pompey, If you come to subdue the enemy? Is not a praetor of the Roman people Worthier of better deeds Than idle speech? That is breach of precedent, That is neglect of the interests of the Roman people, To waste the ballot of your countrymen. Abraham Pactovis, ’23. THE GOLDEN-ROD 11 DESOLATION It was midnight. Twelve brazen notes from the distant curfew echoed sonorous- ly in the still night air. I nodded a mo- ment longer over my book, closed it, looked up, and behold! before me on the table was a huge, imposing tome. I looked closer. In what mysterious manner had this curious volume come here? I leaned over and examined it. A very ancient book it was, as large as a dictionary and closed by two immense clasps. The cover was decorated in an intricate design; great scrolls circled about in endless arcs, interlaced in a fine meshwork of delicate lines, and became lost in the inextricable maze of meaningless figures. And the clasps; of what mystical import were these? Pluto might have formed them, I thought, as I gently touched one with an extended finger. If this book had thus appeared before me in an entirely and strange, unnatural manner, was it not meant that I should read what it contained? Reasoning thus, I released the fastenings and timorously turned to the first page. Yellow and mouldy though it was, I could still dis- cern, faint, shadowy and gauze-like, the tracings of an unknown pen. What won- derful tales were written here? Or per- haps there were no tales, but logic, pro- found as Pluto. Curiosity overcame me. I read; the walls seemed to crumble around me, and dull, gray mists rolled upon me and enveloped me. Then I de- scended. Transported by an invisible power, I moved gently as the summer breeze, but as swiftly as the lightning. Then, sud- denly, the mists crept away, dissolving into the infinite atmosphere, and left me alone, alone in the uttermost parts of space. And there happened there won- drous things, so terrible that the mere telling of them would make mortal man aghast. From a lofty orifice on a barren rock there poured forth the waters of the river Styx; which was not water, but black, and dreadful. And all around was wet with dew; and yet it was not dew, but blood, and sprinkled everywhere in ruby drops. And high up upon the rock, at the very summit of the precipitous glade, was writ the name of the place, which must not be spoken, for it was writ with the blood of martyrs. Scarlet and ghastly it looked from its mountainous position in the darkened musty cavern. And all around were weirdness and desolation. The inky stream wound serpentine among gigantic boulders, spreading broader onward in undulating blackness, bathing its cold, bare banks in muffled sibilation. All was dark, save distant tongues of flame that lapped their slender heights forever up- ward and cast a hideous luminosity throughout the fearful place. Dark and loathsome was this ponderous dungeon; lonely and dreary it was. Now, all who would pass by this place must first drink deep of Lethe’s soporific wave, and, as the deathly potion steeps their feeble flesh, then Charon comes (dread ferryman of all the underworld), and leads them, in their stupor, swiftly on. Against the banks of Acheron awaits a boat. And in that boat the boatman leans upon stupendous oars, while, on his glis- tening skin, there flicker Stygian shadows. His back is bowed, not from age, but bent by work, from driving on that mas- sive bulk throughout the night. Noise- less, the ferry moves, no ripple sounds, and inky drops drip silent in the stream. At length the wide expanse is crossed, and on the farther shore there is no quiet, but all is tumult, and the groaning dead unite in awful concert. Furious thunder rends the adamantine stones, the stream, the air; which is not air, but stench, and heavy, striking pungent on my nostrils as I wonder at the sight. The bitter intoxicant has done its work. The arch-fiend comes himself to show me on. What death and terror in his eye- balls glare! He searches me with a ma- lignant stare, and I must follow. The place of pestilence we passed. I shut my eyes,—and opened them again to witness all the tortures of the doomed. I saw a man, chained in the penal fire, with deadly serpents writhing all around. I 12 THE GOLDEN-ROD saw another, in a moment, plunge head- long down to bottomless perdition. But with the speed of light we went, and all, again, was quiet. It was a place of desolation. The very shades of the departed had melted into the ground to make it so, and all the winds were withered in the stagnant air. No vegetation showed, and nothing moved. But there was light, a sombre light, that came not from afar, but seemed a sort of fixture in itself. I looked again, and there I was alone; no other living thing in all that amplitude. The very rocks stood single and apart, and all the sound I heard was the beating of my own heart, that sent the hot blood cours- ing through my veins. My temples throbbed, and but increased my fear. I dared not move, and yet I could not stay. I longed to run, but my limbs were rigid. I tried to shriek, but my tongue was dry and parched. I wished that I could swoon, but no, I was condemned to stay thus, upright, and hear that fiery liquid palpipate within my pulse. Transfixed by fear, I could not move nor speak, but stood, another rock in this deserted waste. Cold perspiration gathered on my brow and each hair rose erect upon my head. The overpowering stillness quenched the peace of solitude and cruel silence har- rowed up my soul. How long I stayed I do not know. But at length the demon came, and broke the spell; and I found pleasure in his com- pany. How I returned, and whence, I can not tell; but what I know is this:— There is no terror like the terror of silence and desolation, and he who mocks at thunderous noise and sneers at agony will quake and fear when all is gloomy, silent, dark, and still. Gordon Watts, ’22. TEACHERS TEACHERS (a la Kipling) I have taken my fun where I have found it, I have talked and gassed in my time, I have had all species of teachers, And that’s the excuse for this rhyme. One was a half-sized teacher, One was a woman at High, They tortured me so by studies That ofttimes I thought I should die. I was a young one at Quincy, Wise as could be to begin. They all did their best to reform me. And they were as clever as sin. The first one I mentioned was Ruthy, More like a side kick she were, For she’d kick me along, till I burst into song, And I learned about teachers from her. Then I was shifted to others, Much as a wreck was I then, And I got me a live young quarrel Through refusing to write with a pen. Donald Mackay, 22. THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 AT A HIGH SCHOOL DANCE Have you ever been to a high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance? Well, I remember one day long ago, When I went to a high school dance with my beau. The girls on the left, and the boys on the right. Wearing their best Sunday shoes, that were “Oh! so tight.” As has always been since the world began, Every girl in that room had picked her man. At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. Little Susie Brown who is “oh! so thin,” Chose none other than fat Charlie Lynne. Big Lillie Carter with a pimple on her nose, Chose Archibald Mose with his classy hose. Loud Janet Hall with a dimple in her cheek, Chose Harry Ball, who is very meek. Sweet Mary Ann, of the kissable lips, Chose Frankie Marr with his bulging hips, At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. But, Oh! what fun did we have at that dance, Where we had to beg the fellows to dance. So just think back to that time long ago, When you were one of the girls in that row. With your face and hands that were newly washed, And organdie bows you were afraid would get squashed. I’m as happy as can be That I can look back to that time and see Myself as one of the girls at that high school dance, Where the girls had to beg the fellows to dance. Ida Newman, Feb., 1923. 14 THE GOLDEN-ROD THE CAPTURE OF A NIGHT-MOTH Not a breath of air was stirring. The velvety blackness studded with diamond- like stars, above. The very leaves on the trees were silent. Silently, gracefully, a night-moth flew toward me, as I sat on an old decayed log in a room of the for- est. The walls of the room were formed by alder bushes, and the green moss car- pet on the ground gave one a feeling of walking on a heavy plush carpet. The moth sailed a bit to my right, and I was able to observe its color, a pale jade green. It nearly settled on an alder leaf, then, in light, airy flight, flew high above my head, a pale green moth, whose very color made me gasp. It circled above me a few times, then flew lower, and with a long sweep of its plane-like wings flew away into the night. I followed until all trace of it was lost, then went back to the log by my lan- tern to await the attraction of another moth. I sat there for some time, then, looking suddenly toward the opening in the green walls where the moth had flown, slowly, silently, and tantalizingly out into the starry depths of the night I saw it reappear. What luck! It came slowly, gently toward me. I dared not breathe lest I should break the spell. I grasped two leaves and rested my hand on the log, near my lantern. The night-moth swerved. I was going to lose it after all. However, unexpectedly it gave a great lilt of its wings and settled on the leaves. I hastily slipped it into my case, then drew a long breath. I was fairly ex- hausted. No one can know the exaltation of such a capture except one who has that fascinating experience. E. Morgan, ’24. “BY GUM” DINNY 0, Dinny O’Brien was a lad, young and fair, A joy to his father, but his teacher’s despair, Who cuffed his red head and scolded all day, “You’ll never reach heaven, Dinny', mark what I say!” But Dinny just grinned his sly wicked smile And tossed another spit-ball down the aisle! Chorus “I may be a devil, with a head like a drum, But life is some rosy for me, yes, by Gum!” Well, Dinny grew to a fine-looking lad, Who made all the girls look wistful and sad; They smiled and they cast long languishing looks, At the fiery yroung head from behind their big books: But Dinny disdainfully sniffed, turned away, “Weak, silly creatures,” they all heard him say! Chorus “Brainless—foolish—worthless,” he’d hum, “Keep far from me, forever, by Gum!” Then eager for life and chock full of “pep,” Dinny traveled the world and made the queer “rep” Of being a roistering, howling young fiend, But pure as the youngest youngster yet weaned! But always, always, his proud boast would be, “No wily woman has ever caught me!” Chorus “In far foreign lands, or wherever I come, A woman’s smile means nothing, by Gum!” Then free as the foam on the crest of a wave, Dinny sailed back to the home of the brave; Then Ho! for the jest of life’s merry fate, For out of the crowd flashed the face of his mate,— A rosy young face and roguish blue eyes,— And captured his heart with love’s sweet surprise! Chorus “There’s something wrong! My heart’s strick- en dumb, And the world’s topsy-turvy, and jumping, by Gum!” That was ten years ago; and Dinny today, Ne’er repeats his proud boast in the old cocky way, For, like all such fools below and above, Dinny learned of the sweetness of a woman’s pure love; And tenderly clasping his little ones fast, He tells of his foolish, dark, wicked past! Chorus “I’ve lived the life of the pirate bum, But give me love, that’s all, by gum! M trrill C. Or swell, ’22. THE GOLDEN-ROD 19 and forced to sing several songs not scheduled. Miss Flagg, ’cellist; Misses Farrar and Lydon, violinists, played, and convinced the students that they have some excellent musicians for teachers. The Orchestra played several pieces with its accustomed brilliancy. As a whole, the concert was as good as those for which it is necessary to pay high prices. LIBRARY NOTES A new feature is being planned through which you may enjoy the resources of the library. Either the fifth or sixth period on Fridays there will be reading aloud. All who have a free period at that time may attend by getting library permits be- fore the period. The following pupils are among those who will read: George Laing, Robert Cunningham, Doris Currier, El- len Pyyny, Richard Crosscup, Hyman Richman, James Keating, Eleanor Akin, and Harlow Schenkelberger. A good program is promised. Watch for an- nouncements and plan your work so that you can enjoy the period. A library staff has been formed to as- sist in the library afternoons, to acquaint the students with the resources of the library, and to give special help to the incoming class of freshmen. Those stud- ents who have shown interest in and abil- ity for this work form the staff: Joseph Anderson, Nicholas Avgerinos, Gordon Archibald, Philip Hokenson, Gilman Russell, Cabell Ryals, Natalie Adams, Henrietta Burroughs, Margaret Heselton, Sophie Morentz, Irene Pemberton, Clara Saylor, Edna Shea, Olive Rogers, Rachel Thomas. John Reed, News Editor. SOME OF THE BEST NEW BOOKS Hawes—The Mutineers. A real sea yarn set back a century or more. It is a book written with a swing and go, and windy of the high seas, full of the wild doings of those earlier days. Hall Nordgoff—Faery Lands of the South Seas. For two years the authors lived the native life in all sorts of experiences. Theirs is probably the most amazing South Sea story. Bok—The Americanization of Edward Bok. I didn’t know biography could be so entertaining. It reads like fiction.—A Sophomore. Hawes—The Great Quest. Filled with the thrills that lovers of ad- venture yarns get. An altogether engros- sing adventure story, told in delightful fashion. Franck—Working North from Patagonia. You who have read “Vagabond Jour- ney Around the World” and other books by this author know the reason for their popularity. Here is another just as good. Scoville—Everyday Adventures. By all means read this book if you love birds, flowers or the woods. Robinson—My Brother Theodore Roose- velt. An intimate picture of his childhood, boyhood, youth, and manhood. TRIP TO TECH About twenty-five boys of Mr. Wilson’s and Mr. Burtt’s physic classes attended a lecture at Tech Saturday, Jan. 20th. Prof. G. Goodwin spoke on the subject: “Light —Visible and Invisible.” Although a great deal of the talk was above the boys’ heads, nevertheless they were very much interested, especially in the experiments. In one experiment that was especially in- teresting, Prof. Goodwin took a round piece of cardboard half blue and half yel- low. When he revolved this it became white instead of green. DEBATE Friday, Jan. 27th, a debate was held at Everett. Quincy boys upheld the negative of this question, “Resolved, that the United States should recognize the Soviet government in Russia.” The Quincy de- baters were Donald Mackay, Walter Blake, Wesley Archibald, and Donald Cummings, alternate. Walter Morris, Henry Thompson and Coleman J. Joel, Jr., represented Everett. As one of the judges was absent and the remaining two were divided, the debate was declared a 20 THE GOLDEN-ROD tie. The judges were also divided on the best speaker. Everett was superior in elocution and more fluent in speaking, but Quincy presented the best argument. Everett will debate at Quincy next year. Mr. Thomas A. Watson, who helped Alexander Graham Bell invent the tele- phone, spoke to the school Monday, Jan. 23rd. Mr. Watson was very interesting, and told how the telephone was discov- ered, made, and perfected. Mr. Bell and Mr. Watson were experimenting on the harmonic telegraph one day when Mr. Bell heard a slight noise made by the in- ALUMNI The Alumni Association commenced the season, Wednesday, December 28th, 1921, with a masquerade ball, which was a great success. 1908 Ted Keohane, an overseas veteran, was married last November to Miss Margaret Carey of Quincy, a Woodward graduate. 1910 Captain Thomas H. Veale, Dental Corps, United States Regular Army, has been transferred to Fort Wright, New York. 1911 Miss Elizabeth W. Sayward was re- cently married to Dr. Robert E. Baldwin cf Tampa, Florida. Miss Sayward is a graduate of the class of 1911. Dr. and Mrs. Baldwin intend to make their home in the South. 1912 The engagement of Miss Martha W. Cohan of Mattapan to Mr. Nathaniel Warshaw has been announced. Mr. War- shaw, a graduate of this class, also a grad- uate of M. I. T., 1916, is employed with the Murray and Tregurtha Co. Miss Eveline Usher was engaged in De- cember to Alfred A. Clough, an ex-T2. Mr. Clough is also a graduate of M. A. C. in the class of 1916. 1914 Viola Jackson is now teaching at Mil- ton High School. Eddie Berman is teaching economics in Illinois. strument with which Mr. Watson was working. From this he and Mr. Watson made many experimental telephones and finally succeeded in making one success- ful. The first telephone ever used is now as clear and distinct as those in present use. This was proved when Mr. Watson and Mr. Bell talked from New York to San Francisco, Mr. Bell using the first telephone. The school paid close atten- tion to Mr. Watson, and owes many thanks to Miss Emerson, who persuaded Mr. Watson to speak to us. NOTES 1916 Henry W. Erickson, who graduated from M. I. T. last June, is employed with the American Smelting Refining Com- pany in Chihuahua, Mexico. (Henry says, “Mexico is just as bad as they picture it.”) Mr. and Mrs. Angus White have an- nounced the engagement of their daugh- ter Margaret, to Stephen Humphrey of Lawrence. Gertrude Price, a well-known cornetist, has announced her engagement to Hollis Johnson of the T6 class. Miss Price is a graduate of Dorchester High and is a member of the Quincy Ladies’ Orchestra. Hollis is employed by the Boston Tran- script. The wedding will take place in June. 1917 Russell Johnson and John Cummings graduated from M. I. T. last June. “Rus” is now with the Tennessee Copper Co. in Ducktown, Tennessee. John is an assist- ant instructor at M. I. T. Carl Hammond also graduated from M. I. T. last June. A daughter was born in December to Mrs. David R. Stabler. Mrs. Stabler, who before her marriage was Dorothy Parker, is making her home in Pennsyl- vania. A Christmas engagement of much in- terest was that of Violet Shay to Sheldon Heap. Mr. Heap, besides being a gradu- ate of Q. H. S., 1917, is a graduate of Northeastern College, 1921, and is an em- THE GOLDEN-ROD 21 ployee of the New England Tel. Tel. Co. Recently when amateur wireless tele- graphers sent messages to Scotland, his was one of the few that were received. Esther Bagg is a senior at Radcliffe. 1919 Alice Dixon is doing stenography work at the Murray and Tregurtha Co. Amy Blomquist graduated from the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago last December. John Flavin is a junior at Boston Col- lege. John is a member of the reportorial staff of “The Heights,” the Boston Col- lege weekly. Wallace Trumper, prominent in Quincy High School dramatics, is a junior at M. I. T. Hazel Scott, a graduate of this class, has announced her engagement to Fred- erick A. Taylor. Miss Scott is employed at the Pneumatic Scales Corporation, and Mr. Taylor is a violin instructor. Lucy Bagg is attending Simmons Col- iege- „ . . ... Sumner Swingle is working with his father. Florence Hoagland is a sophomore at Boston University. Edna Campbell is a member of the sophomore class at Wellesley. Fred Djerf is at Tufts. 1920 William Couch and Maurice Crowell are sophomores at M. I. T. Azenath Kilpatrick is married. Arthur Olson has a position with the National Shawmut Bank. William Jenness is a second year P. G. at Thayer. Mary Remick and Dorothy Cole are sophomores at Smith. Clifford Boshan is attending B. U. Law School. Lois Kemp, Margaret Ponch, and Anna Ollson are sophomores at B. U. Marion Hall is attending Bryant and Where, and oh where has the girls school uniform gone? The white sweaters look quite as attractive, however. Stratton. Morris Silverman is a sophomore at Northeastern. Ethelle Cleale is a student at Lasell Seminary. William (Luck) Deane is employed by Richards Co., metal dealers. 1921 Dorothy Prout, Alumni editor of the Golden Rod last year, is now a P. G. Marjorie Owens is with relatives in Chicago. Archibald Blair is at the University of Vermont. Dick Saunders goes to Clark Univers- ity, Worcester. Francis Driscoll is a freshman at Bos- ton College. Catherine Foye has announced her en- gagement. Alice White is at the Sacred Heart Con- vent, Canada. Sadye Berman goes to Bridgewater Normal. Ruth Wilmore and Josephine Ghigli are doing library work. Margaret Callahan is working for the Bahr Music Co. George Golden has a position with the New England Tel. Tel. Co. Paul Akin is attending the Faelton School of Music. Arthur Mendel won the Price Green- leaf Aid for Harvard. Edward Speirs and George Cooke are attending Lowell Tech. Helen White is a freshman at B. U. Willard Edwards and John Djerf are P. G’s. Bradford Ropes is a P. G. at Thayer Academy. The following are attending Northeast- ern College: Edwin Davidson, Bennie Berman, Arthur Whitehead, Louis Mer- rill, and Roy Olson. Mary Driscoll, Alumnae Editor. Speaking of uniforms, the basket-ball uniforms certainly are snappy, and es- pecially the stockings. FOOTBALL, 1921 Quincy ended its football season Thanksgiving morning, when it played a 7—7 tie with the Alumni. Considering the muddy field, our men played good football. Guinan, Listman and Wood- worth starred for Quincy, and Topham and Woodworth did good work for the Alumni. SOPHOMORES 35, FRESHMEN 0 The following Friday the two lower classes met on a muddy field. The fresh- men were out-aged and out-weighed by the sophomores. Capt. Neal, Mowbray, and Nelson starred for the sophomores. Capt. Cook and Todd did good work for the losers. The game was nothing but a picnic for the sophomores who used two full teams. The freshmen were game to the last and have pluck if nothing else. FOOTBALL RECEPTION At the football reception “Q’s” were given to Capt. Guild, Capt.-elect Guinan, Johnson, Arverson, Richmond, Dingwell, Anderson, Barstowe, Reed, Shenkclber- ger, McLeod, Bassett, Woodworth, Neal, Cole, Cliffe, Listman, Heap, and Manager McQuarrie. Foster was chosen next year’s manager, while “Ted” Guinan was elected to lead it throughout its 1922 season. Guinan has two years’ experience on the gridiron and should make a good captain. Besides the above mentioned, there are Mowbray, Berman, Hoey, Nelson, Fos- tello, Van Nostitz, Cook, Rhodes, and Young. These boys have played in the minor games this season and should be a great factor in next year’s team. Coach Mitchell more than deserves praise for his hard work throughout the season. The squad gave him a gift as a mark of appreciation of his services. Fac- ulty Manager Webb and Student Mana- ger McQuarrie should be rewarded for their good work. This year Quincy was better outfitted than it has ever been be- fore. Mr. Webb bought all that the school fund could afford. Mr. Nisson taught the line men a good many things necessary in their playing and was greatly responsible for getting them into condi- tion. With these men back next year there is no reason why we shouldn’t have a successful season. BASKETBALL, 1921 The 1921 basketball season opened with a rush. To Coach Clark’s first call 40 boys reported. After two weeks of try- outs the squad was reduced to eighteen boys. A week later it was cut down to ten boys. These men were the pick of forty boys. They are Listman, Maskilieson, Neal, Cummings, Woodworth, Cole, Bar- stow, Guinan, Anderson, and Jacobson. Mr. Clark whipped the squad into shape and the first game was played with Chel- sea, Jan. 6, 1922. CHEASEA 21, QUINCY 0 Chelsea administered a beating to the home team by the above score. Chelsea always has a strong team and this year was no exception. Our boys were be- wildered by Chelsea’s clever passing and fell a victim to its snappy team work. QUINCY 23, MALDEN 12 Quincy took on a new lease of life the following Tuesday and took a hand at giv- ing a beating itself. Quincy’s work had greatly improved. Maskilieson was re- peatedly “fed” by Guinan and Listman, and by the aid of his good shooting, Quincy won. ROCKLAND 22, QUINCY 18 Rockland gave Quincy a beating the following Friday on its own floor. Rock- THE GOLDEN-ROD 23 land's gym was not of regulation size and our men were greatly handicapped by the low ceiling. At the end of the first half, Rockland had 17 points to Quincy’s 7. Quincy by this time had begun to get used to the gym. Our boys outplayed their opponents in the next half and the final score was 22 to 18. Herbert Berman, Athletic Editor. GIRLS BASKETBALL The girls of Quincy High School are showing their athletic enthusiasm by playing basketball. The first game was played on Tuesday, January 10, Juniors vs. Seniors. The Juniors were completely outplayed, the score being 17—6. The Seniors showed splendid team-work, Ethel Wiley seldom failing to make her baskets for the Seniors. The cause of the Juniors’ downfall was mostly wild throwing, but as this was the first game of the season, they may improve with practice. The schedule of games is as follows: Jan. 13—Sophomores vs. Freshmen. Jan. 17—Seniors vs. Sophomores. Jan. 20—Juniors vs. Freshmen. Jan. 24—Juniors vs. Sophomores. Jan. 27—Seniors vs. Freshmen. Jan. 31—Seniors vs. Juniors. Feb. 3—Sophomores vs. Freshmen. Feb. 7—Seniors vs. Sophomores. Feb. 10—Juniors vs. Freshmen. Feb. 14—Juniors vs. Seniors. Feb. 17—Seniors vs. Freshmen. Emily Stewart. HAVE YOU FLAT FEET? Is the spirit of the Q. H. S. boys so dead that a draft must be resorted to if Q. H. S. is to be at all represented among the schools in track athletics? Is it neces- sary to recourse to abject appeals for support in this age-old sport? Must we admit Q. H. S., our school, to be a “One Horse” institution? We have honorably met the best schools in the state in football and basketball with a fair degree of success. Your lack of loyalty and red-bloodedness prevents Q. H. S. from showing them a clean pair of heels on the cinders. One thing is certain—Q. H. S. must and shall be recognized as a factor in the track world. How great a measure of success we achieve, or how bitter a dose of in- glorious defeat we swallow rests entirely with you; depends upon your allegiance; reflects upon Quincy High School. Three simple fundamentals are required to make a good track team—a good coach, very little money, but many, many, steady, hardworking loyal men who will stick in fair weather or foul. We have a good coach; if necessary we can get the money; we have enough steady, hard- working fellows. Then why haven’t we a track team? Seemingly because these hardworking, steady fellows ignore the call of duty to their school. They ignore the support, the allegiance they owe to Q. H. S. Fellows, we must get together and push. We must each do our little share for the common glory of our school and incidentally for ourselves. In track, un- like other sports, the privilege of repre- senting the school is not limted to a fa- vored few. The greater number of men we have the greater is our chance for vic- tory. Track requires but 30 minutes of your time three times a week. Surely you won’t deny your school that much? The mistaken idea is current that in order to “make” a track team a fellow must pos- sess marvelous or extraordinary qualities. But the fact remains, as any sensible indi- vidual will agree, that any one who is not crippled can become a track athlete. All you fellows, whether you are short or tall, stout or thin, big or little, can be placed. Bear in mind that track consists of sprinting, middle and long distance run- ning, high and broad jumping, hurdling and shot-putting. Surely no red-blooded chap will admit without shame that he cannot do at least one of these natural exercises. Are you getting the full worth of your High School career? Come out and meet, mingle, and hold your own with the other men. Be a vital, live influence in your school. You lower classmen, you fresh- men, you sophomores, juniors, we chai- 24 THE GOLDEN-ROD lenge your spirit of loyalty. Upon your shoulders rests the responsibility for the future reputation of Q. H. S. Upon your shoulders rests the burden of upholding the standard of our school. It is your time to train to defend the honor of Q.H.S. as successfully as your predecessors. We will answer for the support of the Senio; class. We appeal to you little fellows who have had no chance in other sports. Come out for track. Show that you are at least willing to defend your school. Never mind what you can’t do. Every one can learn. It is up to you small fellows to demonstrate that you are small only in stature. The coach will be only too glad to enlarge upon your other accomplish- ments. What have you done for Quincy High? Let your conscience answer. Fellow class- mates, our willingness to defend Quincy High School is doubted. Our spirit of loyalty is challenged. Shall we answer? Plans are being made to send a senior and midget relay team to the indoor meets in Boston in February. Meets with Win- throp, Thayer, Revere, and Gloucester will be arranged for in the spring. BRAINTREE 13; QUINCY 12 Braintree defeated Quincy in a close- fought game. Braintree was exception- ally strong for a small school, while our boys could not locate the basket. Our boys played a poor game, and all the luck seemed to be with Braintree. Maskilie- son shot practically all of Quincy’s bas- kets. MILTON 27; QUINCY 17 Quincy struck something real hard when it played Milton. Our boys were handicapped by the strange gym and the team was weakened by the loss of List- man and Nelson. Milton had a real team and deserves credit for winning. ROCKLAND 17; QUINCY 16 Quincy had the edge on Rockland the first half, but in the third and fourth periods Rockland came from behind and with some spectacular shooting and splendid work gave Quincy another beat- ing. Students of Quincy High School, your school spirit is falling. The attendance at the games is poor. You must come out if you want your team to win. The boys work hard and believe their team is going to win. However, a few pessimists al- ways say that the team is going to be beaten. If every one felt that way, what kind of a team will we have? Let’s get together and boost our team. With your full support it will win. Herbert Berman, Athletic Editor. CAMP LIFE IN MAINE (Continued from Literary) Some may sing of the call of the sea,— Some, of the lure of the West. But there’s only one spot that holds promise for me:— Northern Maine with her foliaged breast. Give me the vistas of straight-standing pine, The pine-needles soft to the tread; The cool, spicy odor that braces like wine, From the evergreens high overhead. The thrill—be it mine!—when the chickadee calls From the top of the hemlock at dawn. When, in sweet, tripping melody each clear note falls, Greeting the birth of the mom. The splash of the bass on the mirrorlike lake; The snort of the moose at its brim, As he noisily drinks at the day’s early break, —A wood’s monarch, sturdy and grim. The rush down the stream of the hand-battling trout; The loud-singing reel in the hand; The rod double-bent as the line fast pays out; —The struggle to bring him to land. And at evening the camp-fire’s flickering light, The sound of the crackling boughs; And the myriad noise of the midsummer night; And the warmth of the after-meal drowse. These things do I choose,—simple comforts, you say. But for me not the sorrow and pain That is brought by great wealth,—mine the pleas- ures, each day, Of camp-life in northern-most Maine. F. St. Clair, ’22. THE GOLDEN-ROD 25 EXCHANGES We are trying hard to build up a good Exchange Department, and by our next issue we hope to have one of the largest among the High Schools in New England. The following magazines have been re- ceived : “The Register,” Cambridge, Mass. “Drury Academe,” North Adams, Mass. “The Argus,” Gardner, Mass. “The Tatder,” Nashua, New Hamp- shire. “The Abhis,” Abington, Mass. “The Jabberwock,” Boston, Mass. “The Breeze,” Ashburnham, Mass. “Barrington Recorder,” Barrington, Rhode Island. “Upsala Gazette,” Kenilworth, New Jersey. “The Wampatuck,” Braintree, Mass. “Oak Leaves,” Vassalboro, Maine. “The Mirror,” Waltham, Mass. “High School Review,” Medford, Mass. “Stetson Oracle,” Randolph, Mass. “The Spaulding Sentinel,” Barre, Ver- mont. “The Lynn Classical High School Ga- zette,” Lynn, Mass. “THESE TERRIBLE CRITICISMS” “The Register,” Cambridge, Mass.— Your material is good, but your athletic notes seem to be scattered through the magazine. Why not compile them? “Drury Academe,” North Adams, Mass.—Your magazine is very complete. The Joke and Exchange Departments are especially good. “The Jabberwock,” Boston, Mass.— The stories are fine, but more jokes would make the magazine livelier. “The Abhis,” Abington, Mass.—Your jokes are very original, and are enjoyed. “The Tattler,” Nashua, N. H.—The cuts at the heads of the departments are fine, and your “Personals” are certainly good. “The Argus,” Gardner, Mass.—-The number of your advertisements shows a great amount of work. We found “The Argus” very interesting. “The Spaulding Sentinel” Barre, Vt.— Your editorials and school notes are espe- cially good, but what has happened to your Exchange Column? “The Mirror,” Waltham, Mass.—You have good material, but don’t you think it spoils the appearance of the magazine to have advertisements on every page? Emily Stewart, Exchange Editor. JOKES Mr. Wilson: Why do they have black notes on the piano? Smith: So you can see them. Miss Galleher: Did you have a good lesson while I was away? Ford: Oh, Oui! Tres bum (bonne). Coombs: What was the cause of the Irish famine? Nelson: Why, the potatoes froze and the Irish died. Collins: What was the established Church of Ireland? Kendall: The Christian Scientist. L. E. F.: Cole! What do you think you will get if you keep on talking like that? Cole: A sore throat. Miss Kinner: Do you know that List- man talks in his sleep? Alice Goodhue: No, how do you know? Miss K.: Well, it’s true, he recited in class this morning. Rhodes: The school has hired a new dish-washer. Belden: How so? Rhodes: I noticed the difference in the finger prints on my plate. Miss McDermott: Miss Giles, stop talking, Pm presiding!—Eng. E 5b. Webster (scuffing all the way back to his seat.) Miss Coombs: Webster Gleason, go back to the waste basket and pick up your feet and walk. Dennison: I hear you are trying to aim high this year, Harry. Damon: Yes, Pve succeeded; I broke a light last time I aimed. Newell: How do you feel to-day? Spratt: Like a loaf of bread. Newell: How’s that: Spratt: Tip-Top. Miss Twombley: Who was at the bat- tle of Troy? Bright Senior: Napoleon. Miss Bruce (after reading a passage in Spanish): Is that verb form right? Miss Zeller: Yes, what makes you think it isn’t? Miss Bruce: Well, all the class is laughing at it. Miss Zeller: It might not be the verb they are laughing at. Rhodes (translating a passage in Span- ish) : “It was a glorious day. The moon and stars shone brightly.” Class discussing prices in Junior book- keeping—Miss Horrigan: Shall we change our beans? Miss Burns: It might not be a bad idea! Mr. Dawson: What are the Alien Se- dition Acts, Miss—er-er, well (Mr.) Pier- son. That’s an old one, class, don’t laugh. Pierson: I don’t know. Walsh: That’s an old one, too. Miss Flagg: Olsen, what is made from petroleum? Olsen: Millionaires. i Miss Wiley: Lead is the only thing that radium positively will not affect, and it affects that a little. Pitts: Why so gloomy, Drew? Drew: Oh, I went to see a show the other night and the ticket seller played a mean trick on me. Pitts: How so? Drew—Well, she asked me if I cared what nationality I sat behind, and I said, Of course not. Pitts: Well? Drew: So she put me in back of a Pole. Pupil in English: I think that theme was very well written up. Miss Giles: Written down, if you please! We all noticed that the football picture was in the Joke Section of the last Golden Rod. Miss Douglas: We will have all girls read this act. Joseph B----you read the first soldier. Miss Thompson: Here, Widlin, come up the stairs in two files please. L.E.F.: What is the commonest use of calcium carbonate (marble)? Johnson: Why, it is used to make gravestones. Miss Galleher: You can come to me any time for help. Ford: Where are you Saturdays and Sundays? A K r� two eIt� -ckief ckief rnaet ( JoK-nsort Vvom ) V + ' VaLetrtm QHS. 0«v’ JJtVK Uv Jf t of tones? Js 28 THE GOLDEN-ROD Dodge: If you get killed by an auto- mobile you’re dead. Not if you “Dodge” it. T.: Turn to Stevenson’s appendix and we’ll see how much we can cover. (All in a nut shell.) Freshie, entering restaurant: Do you serve lobsters here? Waiter: Yes, sit down! We serve any- body. Miss Colclough: Jocelyn, stop stamp- ing your feet, I can easily keep you after school, you know. Jocelyn: You’ll have to “hold me.” Miss M.: Mr. Springer, can I read the “Making of an American”? (No an- swer.) Miss M.: Can I? It’s a corker, I mean it’s peachy. (Icy stare from Mrs. S.) Miss M.: I mean, it’s swell. (That’s a freshman.) My wife has gone to the West Indies to spend a few weeks. Is that so? Jamaica? Nope, she went of her own accord.— Lampoon. Wanted—Experienced general house- work girl not under thirty or forty years of age.—Quincy Ledger. Miss B.: What is the equator? Miss Sherman: It’s an imaginary line running around the earth. Voice: What’s its speed. It was a freak day and a certain young lady who had a tremendously large bow on her hair had just said, “I don’t know.” Whereupon the teacher replied, “I think it would be just as well to have some- thing inside our heads!” Weil (in English class): Washington Irving was always a bachelor because his wife died before he was married. The Secret of the Well Dressed Young Man is not the size of his ward- robe, but the care he gives it. Frequent cleaning and press- ing will keep your clothes fresh and new, in fact, it is real economy. Have our solicitor call at your home or office. Wayne Belding, Joke Editor. wm ADVERTISERS NOTICE!! - | Copy for next issue of “Golden-Rod” MUST be in the managers hands by March 27th. Send if convenient Victor-Victrolas and Records AT AN UP-TO-DATE MIBl 1454 Hancock St. Quincy EASY TERMS PHOTOGRAPHER School Groups a Specialty 1507 Hancock Street Quincy JUf X PedaJid on aH rKACt lAJOCAc. RSiSSS FSB A BlbO MW■■ an n ermces. and full PI ANU TUNER GOWNS Smart Gowns and Coats WESTLAND’S Ready to Wear NEW YORK SAMPLES Paints and Hardware Madame Clapp HANCOCK ST. QUINCY 249 Highland Ave. Wollaston Tel. Granite 1378-W ailv ruunt LWiaij ncv. Mass. NATIONAL ADVERTISED GOODS Every article we carry in this store is a national advertised article, the quality is unquestionable. Every purchaser is guaranteed satisfaction. Some of our national advertised goods Mallory Hats, Reis-Underware, Hart-Schaffner and Marx Clothes Conqueror Hose, Talbot’s Boston Made Clothes, Talbot Blue Ribbon Hose, Manhattan-Shirts, Arrow-Shirts, Emery-Shirts, Hickok Belts and Buckles, Arrow Collars, Manhattan Underware S™ Talbot-Quincy, Inc. O H ATS WITH VOUF GAS MAN Do you read these articles as they appear each week in the three Quincy papers? You should do so! They give cer- tain facts and general information concerning the gas industry that will be found interesting and in- structive. Over FOUR BILLION DOLLARS are invested in this business in the United States. Such an enterprise is worthy of study. It holds out many oppor- tunities to enterprising young men and women who look forward to being of real service to their fel- low citizens. This Company will be pleased to furnish information pertaining to our business, locally or nationally, at any time. CITIZENS9 GAS LIGHT CO. Office and Salesman 7 Granite Street Quincy m § stftl tic Goods 286 Devonshire St Boston Mass. THE HIGHEST GUALITY ATHLETIC GOODS MANUFACTURED Catalogue sent on request -awiuas Crane PuBliC iiorao Oninrv Mass Our Little Quality Shop is ready to serve you if you wish CANDY, CARDS, NUTS, PICTURE PUZZLES or GIFTS 9 i-2 Maple Street Quincy Bradford Building njOOD PlacEv '-TO BUY- Look ai our Spring Line of Oxfords and Sport Shoes before buying It is the best we have ever shown MOORHEAD’S SHOE STORE 1547 Hancock Street, Quincy WRIGHT DITSON Granite City Print ATHLETIC HOUSE o 83 HOCKEY SHOES and SKATES (Printers of The Golden-Rod) HOCKEY STICKS PUCKS GLOVES LODGE, SOCIAL and DANCE TIGHTS TICKETS and PROGRAMS JERSEYS SHIN GUARDS A SPECIALTY Telephone Granite 484-M 344 Washington Street Boston 9, Mass. 14 Maple Street Quincy Heffernan’s SHOE STORE ALHAMBRA BUILDING Present this add and receive these Special Prices Patent Leather Jazz Oxford $4.75 Patent Three Buckle Pump 4.75 Four Buckle Overshoes 3.75 Gym Shoes, High White Tennis Shoes 1.75 Agents for Brockton Co-operative, Ground Gripper and La France Shoes Guay's 5ysterr BaKery CAKES AN’ ROLLS AN’ COOKIES OF “SUGAR ’N SPICE ’N EVERYTHING NICE.’’ WHERE U BOT THE DOUGHNUTS Telephone Granite 1430-W DO YOU ENJOY A GOOD DINNER ? BUY IT AT FOY'S Groceries Provision Quality Service Grossrrjao Coal Co., Ipc. 130 Granite Street, Quincy Telephone Granite 2843 Where You Get Genuine Franklin Coal tLbe 3ol6cn=1Ro Volume XXXII February 14, 1922 No. 2 Zbe (Solt en 1Rot PUBLISHED BY THE PUPILS OF QUINCY HIGH SCHOOL Address—The Golden-Rod High School : : Quincy, Mass. FEBRUARY, 1923, STAFF OF GOLDEN ROD Editor-in-Chief_____________Edmund Johnson Literary Editor____________________Eleanor Akin News Editor----------------------John Reed Alumni Editor-------------------------Mary Driscoll Exchange Editor----------------------Emily Stewart Athletic Editor____________________Herbert Berman Jokes Editor_________________________Wayne Beldinc Art Editor_______________Gertrude Corcoran Business Manager----------Edward F. Savage Assistant Bus. Mgr_____Laurence Whittemore Assistant Bus. Mgr-------------------Ethel Darr THE NEW STAFF As announced before, this number of the Golden Rod and the one following are in the hands of the February 1923 staff. The staff hopes that all who con- tributed to the success of the first issue will keep up the good work, and those who were backward will come across and push. Sophomores and Freshmen, this means you! The sale of the Golden Rod in your classes fell far below expectations. Wake up! The Golden Rod belongs just as much to you as to the upper classes. WELCOME, FRESHMEN! Welcome, Class of February, 1926! We have hopes that you will prove your- selves one of the best Freshman classes ever entered at Quincy High. You are especially fortunate in entering at a time when school activities are in their full swing and ready to receive you. Step in and help push them along. This is the way to prepare yourselves for your duties as Seniors. An excellent way to get ac- quainted with school life and spirit would be to buy and read the Golden Rod. REPORTS Already the second reports have been received and the half year mark passed. To some this meant joy and satisfaction with the knowledge of work well done. To some this meant the disappointment of bitter failure. Some of these failures may have been from hard-working students. Such may be consoled by George Eliot’s saying, “Failure after a long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a fail- ure.” Whether you are one of the unfor- tunate or one of the “never tries,” make a resolution today to make the remainder of the year the banner season in Quincy High. Show the world that Quincy High School is “looking up.” The staff is very sorry that Doris Cra- pon received no acknowledgment for her story, entitled “Yours truly,” in the last issue. 4 THE GOLDEN-ROD BASKET-BALL ONCE MORE Once more, Quincy High has a basket- ball team with a regular prepared inter- scholastic schedule. The ban is off this great winter sport, in which Quincy made such a formidable reputation a few years ago. Already a number of games have been played, and the showing of the team indicates a successful season. But, bas- ket-ball fans, you realize, do you not, that your conduct at the games decides whether or not this privilege will last long? Therefore, it is necessary for every one, in the excitement, to remember to act like a real sport and keep “the lid” off basket-ball. Teachers! Where are the sage proverbs and verse selections that contained so much of earthly and divine wisdom which had a conspicuous place on the boards last term: They would be welcome back. OUR LIBRARY The reader’s attention is called to the library' column in the school news section. The whole student body should be inter- ested in this column, as it represents one of the most important departments of the whole school. Quincy High is very fortu- nate in having such a library' within the school. It is a fact that Quincy High has the largest library of any school in the vicinity. That the library is filled to an overflowing condition before and after school and at recess shows that the major- ity of the school body are taking ad van- take of this great convenience, and find it an indispensable asset to their school work. But have you ever thought that there are many enjoyable things in the library which can be found and appreci- ated only at your leisure? If your studies permit it and you have a spare study period, why not spend it browsing around the library? You will find that the librarian has the time then to answer your questions in a far more comprehensive manner than at rush periods. In this way our library could be run at full blast all the while, as it should. Show your appre- ciation of the librarians’ effort to build up the library. EDITORIAL Shortly after the first copy of the Golden Rod came out, the staff received an anonymous letter from “A Senior” criticising the manner in which the news editor had reported about the two staffs of the Golden Rod. The criticism was as follows: “On page nine of the first number of the Golden Rod the article, ‘Class News,’ says that the September, 1922, class elected its staff, ‘the members of which will be found in the first page of this issue.’ I was exceedingly disappointed in my search, though I examined diligently— even with a microscope—for a trace of the members. Would you advise me to try a higher powered microscope, used for the detec- tion of minute organisms, or should I visit an optician?” Now, the staff is most grateful for any criticism that is offered by a student of the school whose first thought is wholly for the Improvement of his school paper. However, when a person writes in this mood, which seems to be a wholly mali- cious and spiteful one we are in doubt whether to accept it or not. Furthermore, a student who is afraid to put his or her name to his assertions is hardly to be noticed. We could have easily found out who the student was who wrote such a sar- castic criticism. However, we concluded that it was not worth the trouble and that the student, reconsidering since, would be highly embarrassed if we discovered who he was. We hope that in the future any student passing in a criticism will not forget to put his or her signature to his work, for it will receive a great deal more attention and respect. The Christmas concert certainly was a great success, giving everyone a great deal of enjoyment for five cents. Surely we are all looking forward to another in the near future. Speaking of concerts, the Quincy Teach- ers’ Association deserves praise for secur- ing the Harvard Glee Club for the concert January 10, 1922. THE GOLDEN-ROD WHERE, OH, WHERE ARE THE FUTURE MARK ANTON YS? Last, but not least, among the institu- tions of this progressive High School is the Debating Society. It seems as though the Quincy High School Debating Society had this year been entirely overlooked in the maelstrom of our happy-go-lucky High School life. Desperate efforts are being made by the members to stave off a lean year. We call for your personal help. We await your response. The Q. H. S. D. S., when its member- ship is complete, which so far this year is far from being the case, is composed of fifteen Seniors, ten Juniors, and five Soph- omores. Meetings are held every other Thursday at 7.30, beginning with the first Thursday in October, ending with the last regular meeting in June. At every meet- ing a prepared debate on some current topic takes place between two of the sev- eral teams which compose the Society. The execution of business, discussion and expression of personal opinions on the subject debated is the regular procedure. Now and then a lecture, or an interesting talk, or adjournment to the gym for bas- ket-ball varies the usual course. Once, usually toward the end of the year, a ban- quet and dance, or an outing, or a theatre party is held, the condition of the treasury permitting. The training of the future orators and lawyers is supervised by Mr. Jewell, as- sisted by Mr. Dawson, a Harvard man, well versed in the age-old art of oratory. This year, unlike previous years, appli- cations for membership have been few. We do not believe that this implies a lack of earnest, desirable men, men who are looking into the future, who wish to learn how to stand on their own two feet and say what they mean in a straightforward, logical manner. Unfortunately, there are very, very few students who can safely say they can do this. Who has not secret- ly dreamed of swaying vast audiences with a golden flow of oratory? Which one of you has not envied the ease and grace and the connected flow of speech of some plain, quiet-spoken man in contrast with his own stumbling, stuttering red-faced delivery? 5 Take, for instance, the case of the Alumni a short while ago. Every one of them who achieved a fair measure of suc- cess formerly belonged to the Q. H. S. D. S. But this is only a minor example. Fellow classmates: the Q. H. S. D. S. will show you the way to be able to say what you want to say in the right way. No, girls, you are natural-born speakers. Two debates have been arranged for this year—Quincy High vs. Everett High, January 27; Quincy vs. Cambridge Latin, in March. The caliber of these opponents shows the quality of Quincy High’s debating teams. SOMETHING NEW Science students, attention! How in- terested are you in your study? Are you one of those who are fortunate enough to have a radio set? Are you interested in machines or any other practical side of science? If you are, the Golden Rod staff invites and urges you to tell about it in the next issue. This should be both interesting and helpful to every one. Per- haps some other fellow is puzzled by something which you understand. Explain it to him. Perhaps through this column you can make the acquaintance of some- one interested in the same thing you are. Perhaps you can awaken another student to the interesting side of science. Let’s hear from you. VALENTINE’S DAY Valentine’s Day? From the appear- ance of our corridors one would judge that Quincy High had a perpetual Valentine’s Day. This fault, or bliss, spread widely through the school is most pronounced in the upper classes, as we see w. k. faces strung plentifully along the second floor corridor and occasionally a beleaguered couple seeking solitude on the third floor. If only some of the science students could invent a method of sending the vision of the enchanting physiognomy to the en- chanted along with telephone calls so that the faculty need no longer be annoyed by these victims of the mischievous Cupid! THE LAND OF THE LOST It was gone. There was no doubt of that. Search high, search low, my foun- tain pen was nowhere to be found. I could have sworn that it had rolled under the bookcase; yet the flashlight revealed nothing. Exasperated, I dropped onto the davenport before the fire and watched the shadows flicker across the ceiling. Finally, disgusted and perplexed, I mut- tered to myself, “I don’t see why I can’t find it.” “You don’t, eh?” piped a squeaky voice, bubbling with laughter. With a start, I jerked my head in the direction of the sound, and there I saw— well—you probably won’t believe me, be- cause scientists say that they don’t exist outside of fairy tales—but I saw, with my own eyes—a gnome. His wizened little face crinkled into a maze of furrows as he peered at my flab- bergasted countenance through a pair of horn spectacles, perched precariously on a blab of a nose. His hands, peeping from the mysterious depths of his sleeves, seemed to be poised, prepared to swoop down and snatch something away. “Well, who on earth are you?” I gasped. “Oh, I’m not of the earth. Can’t you see my badge of office?” he answered im- patiently, holding a clutching hand beau- tifully worked in gold, which dangled from a long chain about his neck. The fingers of this hand seemed to be ani- mated with the eagerness of a lion watch- ing unsuspecting prey. They so fascinated me that I forgot to answer the gnome, who was waiting expectantly. “Stupid! Don’t you understand yet? Come on, then, and I’ll show you.” So saying, he clambered onto one end of the davenport and slowly waved his wand above his head. The davenport glided forward like a roller coaster, gaining momentum all the time, while the walls receded till I thought I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Then, without any warning, the davenport shot over an abyss. There I sat, my eyes bulging from my head, every nerve and muscle tense, watching the head of the davenport reluctandy dip down. Then an agonizing pause before we dived into what seemed to be eternity. Down, down we shot. I felt as if my stomach had lagged far, far behind, yet was still connected to me by some tugging elastic band. After ages, a patch of hard earth jumped up to meet us. I took a long breath, shut my eyes, and awaited the inevitable impact, but much to my surprise we floated gently to a resting place. It was not until I had collected my scat- tered senses and the lagging parts of my anatomy that I discovered we were in the shadow of a towering wall. The old man was standing in front of a curious gate. “Hey! you lazy mortal!” he cried with impatience, “come on.” “If you please, sir,” I said as meekly as possible, “where are we and what are we going to do?” At this, the gnome danced up and down with rage, shrieking: “You numb-skull! Why, you ought to have guessed that long ago! What were you doing during our pleasant ride down? You—you—” Here he paused, inarticulate with fury. I took the safest course and kept quiet. Then he said: THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 “If you must know, this is the land where everything you mortals call lost is kept. My brothers and I go up to earth and carry away everything lost or likely to be lost that we possibly can. Do you wish to inspect the place?” As he led the way through a dark tun- nel, I heard him mutter, “Lord, what fools these mortals be!” The walls of the tunnel pressed closer and closer around me, till at length I could stand it no longer. Just as I was about to protest, the next step brought me into broad daylight. I turned to look back through the tunnel, but was confronted by a blank wall with a tiny hole in it. “Did I come through that?” I gasped. “Yes. Our gates are constructed so as to admit anything, but I don’t believe a pin could get out.” He led the way across the bare room into another room beyond. As he opened the door, a babel of complaining voices struck my ears, while mischievous-looking gnomes passed in and out. “Mother, I can’t find my watch,” I heard the whining voice of an American boy say. Immediately a gnome jumped up and rushed past me, grinning impishly. “This is our information room. Here we find out about the things lost on earth,” explained my guide. “ ‘I can’t’ is a great little phrase. Once uttered, your grip on your possessions is weakened, and it is much easier to snatch them away. We’re going to give you your pen simply because you said, T don’t see why I can’t’ instead of the usual T can’t.’ While the others are preparing the presentation ex- ercises, I’m going to show you our collec- tions.” He passed into a long corridor. On either side were enormous compartments in which lost articles were stocked. My head reeled as we went by piles of um- brellas, heaps of needles, tons of pins, and stacks of small change. My companion paused at the threshold of a spacious room. In the center was a neat little pile of papers. “This is where we keep lost home-les- sons.” “Why, surely there must be lots more than that; they vanish by the dozen at Quincy High.” “So there are. The room is full of them, but the rest are imaginary and can’t be seen.” I was then led out-of-doors to a large lake teeming with fish. The size of the perch, bass, and trout that kept the water flecked with foam was astonishing. “This lake is the final abode of the fish- that-got-away.” I noticed one fish which had the ap- pearance and characteristics of a minnow, but the dimensions of a whale. “Who lost that one?” I asked. “You did.” Then and there I privately resolved to keep my next lost fish down to ten inches. Reaching the summit of a gentle slope rising from the lake, I saw a level plain stretching to the horizon, crowded with countless herds of goats. “What are these here for? Why, there aren’t that many on earth.” “Didn’t anyone ever get your goat?” asked the gnome. “People lose ’em all time. See that big herd? Well, they all belong to you.” I stared at my herd of goats till my reverie was broken by the voice of my conductor shouting, as he seized my hand, “Get a move on; we’re two minutes late to the presentation.” The next thing I remember I was standing on a platform before a vast audi- ence of gnomes, while one of their number presented my pen to me. Amid thunder- ous applause, I bowed to the audience. A shrill, insistent cry of “Speech! Speech!” smote my ears like waves beat- ing upon the shore. My heart pounded wildly; my face turned brick-red; my hands grew so large that I couldn’t hide them anywhere; I opened my mouth; not a word could I utter! The faces of the gnomes, grinning diabolically, swam be- fore me.” “She’s losing her self-possession! Let’s grab it!” they shrieked. As they rose en nasse to take it away, the horrid vision grew blurred and gradually faded away. I found myself once more on the daven- port, my pen in my hand, gazing at the dancing flames. How did it happen? That, my reader, I leave to you. Dorothy Kinner, ’23. 8 THE GOLDEN-ROD TUNNELL 17 “I’ll go.” It was Tom Jackson who spoke these words firmly as he reached for his cap and walked toward the door. Tom and the other members of the Jack- son family were spending the summer in their cottage at Pinecliff, in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. That evening Tom’s ten-year-old brother, Frank, had fallen off a ledge of rock and broken his leg. There was no doctor nearer than El- dorado, four miles away. The shortest way there was to follow the railroad track. It hugged the sides of the mountains above deep canyons, ran through long, dark tunnels, pierced through the very hearts of massive moun- tains, and crept cautiously over tall, thin trestles, built at dizzy heights over roar- ing mountain streams. “My! I hate to see you go, Tom, but it’s hurting him so badly, and now that you’re sixteen years old, I guess you can take care of yourself,” said Tom’s mother. “Good luck, Tom,” called Mr. Jackson. With his flashlight, Tom picked his way down the hillside to the railroad track and started for Eldorado. There were seven tunnels on the road between Pinecliff and Eldorado; some long, some short, some straight, some crooked, but the one that was considered the most dangerous on the whole railroad was Tunnel 17, the last one before reaching Eldorado. Under ordinary circumstances, Tom would not have gone through the tunnels, for if a person is caught in a tunnel when a fast train comes through, he will prob- ably be sucked under the wheels, and whether the train is fast or slow, he will be suffocated by the smoke. However, Tom had to get a doctor, and get him quickly, and it would take most of the night to get to Eldorado, if he climbed over every mountain through which there was a tunnel. Besides, there was no train until morning, according to the schedule, so Tom felt pretty safe. He walked the first mile and a half using his flashlight most of the way, be- cause the moon had not yet risen. The first tunnel was short and straight. Just as he came out, he heard footsteps far ahead of him, and, as they came nearer, j Tom could hear the steady crunch-crunch- crunch of hobnailed boots in the gravel and cinders between the tracks. Was it a tramp? Was it a train bandit? Was it some wild Mexican? After about five minutes of this nerve-trying suspense, Tom made out the figure of a large man a few feet in front of him. The man said pleasantly, “How d’ y’ do, stranger?” Tom answered, and with a sigh of relief went on. As he came out of the second tunnel, the moon peeked over the crest of a low mountain. It shone through the rarified atmosphere so brightly that the night seemed almost as light as day. A night hawk swooped down not more than five feet in front of Tom, and in the distance a lone coyote let out a most doleful howl. Tom could hear the roaring of the stream in the canyon below him, and once in a while, between the trees, he would get a glimpse of the dashing waters. He was used to these natural sounds, and so they did not bother him. Tom kept on. In about an hour he had gone through the sixth tunnel, and less than a quarter of a mile ahead was 17. As he approached it, he looked at the spot of black darkness that marked the mouth of the treacherous tunnel. He looked up at the mountain towering above him, with the pines on its sides outlined against the rich, dark blue, star-sprinkled sky. Then he thought of his small brother suffering with his broken leg. He must go through the tunnel. He entered and walked along a straight stretch. Then there was a curve for about one hundred yards. Tom had just turned onto a stretch of straight track about two hundred yards in length when Toot-Toot- T’toot! A train was coming! The thoughts that swirled through Tom’s mind were something like this: “ ’S coming from that way! No, that side! Which? Dunno—maybe—” The echo of the whistle was thrown back and forth from cliff to cliff and mountain to mountain, now on this side, now on that, as if mocking him in his predicament. He knew that if he tried to run out he might trip, fall, and break a limb. Be- THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 sides, he did not know which way the train was coming. It was too far to run in so short a time, anyway. He wondered if the dark-colored suit he wore would show up against the smoky walls of the tunnel. The only thing he could do was to trust to luck that the engineer would see him. He held onto a post on the wall and was ready to lie down flat on the ground where the smoke would be the thinnest, and where he could hold on to the post to try to keep from being sucked under the train. All this happened in about twelve sec- onds, but it seemed three minutes to Tom. He could hardly keep himself from starting to run out as hard as he could, but he knew it would be a crazy thing to do. So he stood there while the roar of the locomotive became louder. There was the glare from the head- light! The great engine lurched around a curve, straightened out, and with the cars rumbling after it started toward Tom. When it had covered about fifty yards— clank! There was a terrific jar which knocked the rear wheels of the locomotive a foot in the air, and—but that was all Tom saw, for the jar had disconnected the headlight, and the locomotive was fly- ing towards him in the dark! Instantly he whipped out his flashlight and waved it frantically in the air. There was a deafening hissing as the air brakes were thrown on. The train stopped about nine yards in front of Tom. He ran up to the engineer’s cab. “What’s this?” demanded the engineer savagely. “That’s what I’d like to know,” said Tom. Then Tom told of his experience, and the engineer calmed down. The engineer said that this was a special train, hired by some business men who were putting through a big deal for a gold mine. He also said: “If my headlight had been on, I could not have seen you, because your brown suit wouldn’t have shown up against these dark walls. And as I had orders not to stop for anything, I would have gone right ahead without my headlight if you hadn’t flashed that light of yours.” They went back to the place where the train had been shaken up. Through the thickening smoke they saw that a tie at the joining of two rails had been under- mined by a small underground stream, and as there was nothing to support the rail, the engine had been thrown forward for a second or two. While Tom and the engineer were look- ing at the track, the fireman came up and, looking at Tom’s dark-colored suit and the smoky walls of the tunnel, then at the engine with its dead headlight and at Tom’s flashlight, he said to Tom: “Boy, I guess it’s a good thing for you that tie was washed out.” “It certainly was,” agreed Tom. Eliot Weil, Sept., ’24. JOKES On an examination paper: Pilgrim’s Progress was a book written by Benjamin Franklin about the pilgrims who came over here in 1620. A diller, a dollar, a nine o’clock scholar, Why did you not make haste? Sorry, sir, the pupil said, but there’s a girl in the case. White: Jerry, what’s a good remedy for a headache? Golden: Stick you head through a window and the pane will be gone. Cole’s Bad Breaks Cole: I saw a negro funeral today and behind the hearse walked a number of mourners with pails. Listener: Why the pails? Cole: Going blackburying. Listman was lying quite still after being jumped on by five of the opposing team and when Mitchell came up and said, “He’s unconscious,” Listman moved slightly and replied, “No, I ain’t, either.” “Shut up,” said Cole, “Mitchell knows best.” 10 THE GOLDEN-ROD JACK Dear Reader: I am writing this introductory note to give you an idea of what the following letters are about. The members of English E 1A had been reading “Adrift on an Ice-Pan,” by Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, and we had been very much interested in his dogs, espe- cially in his little retriever, Jack. When we finished the story we wondered if Jack was alive or dead, and so all of us wrote letters to ask Dr. Grenfell about him. The best letter, which was written by Louise Roberge, was chosen and sent to Dr. Grenfell. Her letter and his reply are printed here. Sophie Kaufman, English Division E 1A, Room 12. Quincy High School, Quincy, Mass., December 19, 1921. Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, Grenfell Association, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York. Dear Sir: You don’t know who I am, but I have heard a great deal about your work. I am just a Freshman at Quincy High School. We are reading your thrilling story, “Adrift on an Ice-Pan,” and I assure you that the whole class is very much inter- ested in it. The other day a question came up in class as to whether your dog Jack is still alive. As no member of the class could answer it, our teacher suggested that we write a letter asking about it. Everybody is trying hard. If you answer my letter, do you mind if we submit it to our school paper, “The Golden Rod”? If you ever come to Quincy and have any spare time, we cordially invite you to visit our school. Hoping to hear from vou soon, I am, Yours very truly, Louise Roberge, English Division E 1A, Room 12. 20 Beacon Street, Boston 9, December 20, 1920. Dear Miss Roberge: Yes, Jack is very much alive still, but it is only in the realms of memory and in- spiration that he lives. His poor, affec- tionate little body lies sleeping in the frozen North, but whenever I hear his name he seems to speak to me to be true and loving and unselfish and brave as he was; so, you see, he lives still, and that is why I hope all the children want to live so that they will never die, but always live on in inspiration to those who come after them. And so with the next generation in the Quincy High School when those that are there today are in the realms where I believe Jack is—the place that is reserved for all that is beautiful and noble and unselfish. You certainly can do anything you like with what I write to you. If I cannot get time to come to speak to the school my- self, there are a number of friends here who know all about our work, and, I am sure, would be glad to come and give a little talk to the school about Labrador and its people. Sincerely yours, Wilfred Grenfell. REAL OBJECTION OF CATULLUS (As Seen by a Junior) 0 Cicero! with speech of world above, Irresistible in argument, immovable in debate, Man of parts, of wisdom, with patriot’s zeal, If in you there is the slightest love Of fellow' man — leave Catiline’s hate, Leave your tale of woe for the public weal. Actions speak louder than words, And deeds are reckoned more Than speech; wherefore, cease to weary The helpless schoolboy and the men of forum; Would not the allies welcome you, as if Pompey, If you come to subdue the enemy? Is not a praetor of the Roman people Worthier of better deeds Than idle speech? That is breach of precedent, That is neglect of the interests of the Roman people, To waste the ballot of your countrymen. Abraham Pactovis, ’23. THE GOLDEN-ROD 11 DESOLATION It was midnight. Twelve brazen notes from the distant curfew echoed sonorous- ly in the still night air. I nodded a mo- ment longer over my book, closed it, looked up, and behold! before me on the table was a huge, imposing tome. I looked closer. In what mysterious manner had this curious volume come here? I leaned over and examined it. A very ancient book it was, as large as a dictionary and closed by two immense clasps. The cover was decorated in an intricate design; great scrolls circled about in endless arcs, interlaced in a fine meshwork of delicate lines, and became lost in the inextricable maze of meaningless figures. And the clasps; of what mystical import were these? Pluto might have formed them, I thought, as I gently touched one with an extended finger. If this book had thus appeared before me in an entirely and strange, unnatural manner, was it not meant that I should read what it contained? Reasoning thus, I released the fastenings and timorously turned to the first page. Yellow and mouldy though it was, I could still dis- cern, faint, shadowy and gauze-like, the tracings of an unknown pen. What won- derful tales were written here? Or per- haps there were no tales, but logic, pro- found as Pluto. Curiosity overcame me. I read; the walls seemed to crumble around me, and dull, gray mists rolled upon me and enveloped me. Then I de- scended. Transported by an invisible power, I moved gently as the summer breeze, but as swiftly as the lightning. Then, sud- denly, the mists crept away, dissolving into the infinite atmosphere, and left me alone, alone in the uttermost parts of space. And there happened there won- drous things, so terrible that the mere telling of them would make mortal man aghast. From a lofty orifice on a barren rock there poured forth the waters of the river Styx; which was not water, but black, and dreadful. And all around was wet with dew; and yet it was not dew, but blood, and sprinkled everywhere in ruby drops. And high up upon the rock, at the very summit of the precipitous glade, was writ the name of the place, which must not be spoken, for it was writ with the blood of martyrs. Scarlet and ghastly it looked from its mountainous position in the darkened musty cavern. And all around were weirdness and desolation. The inky stream wound serpentine among gigantic boulders, spreading broader onward in undulating blackness, bathing its cold, bare banks in muffled sibilation. All was dark, save distant tongues of flame that lapped their slender heights forever up- ward and cast a hideous luminosity throughout the fearful place. Dark and loathsome was this ponderous dungeon; lonely and dreary it was. Now, all who would pass by this place must first drink deep of Lethe’s soporific wave, and, as the deathly potion steeps their feeble flesh, then Charon comes (dread ferryman of all the underworld), and leads them, in their stupor, swiftly on. Against the banks of Acheron awaits a boat. And in that boat the boatman leans upon stupendous oars, while, on his glis- tening skin, there flicker Stygian shadows. His back is bowed, not from age, but bent by work, from driving on that mas- sive bulk throughout the night. Noise- less, the ferry moves, no ripple sounds, and inky drops drip silent in the stream. At length the wide expanse is crossed, and on the farther shore there is no quiet, but all is tumult, and the groaning dead unite in awful concert. Furious thunder rends the adamantine stones, the stream, the air; which is not air, but stench, and heavy, striking pungent on my nostrils as I wonder at the sight. The bitter intoxicant has done its work. The arch-fiend comes himself to show me on. What death and terror in his eye- balls glare! He searches me with a ma- lignant stare, and I must follow. The place of pestilence we passed. I shut my eyes,—and opened them again to witness all the tortures of the doomed. I saw a man, chained in the penal fire, with deadly serpents writhing all around. I 12 THE GOLDEN-ROD saw another, in a moment, plunge head- long down to bottomless perdition. But with the speed of light we went, and all, again, was quiet. It was a place of desolation. The very shades of the departed had melted into the ground to make it so, and all the winds were withered in the stagnant air. No vegetation showed, and nothing moved. But there was light, a sombre light, that came not from afar, but seemed a sort of fixture in itself. I looked again, and there I was alone; no other living thing in all that amplitude. The very rocks stood single and apart, and all the sound I heard was the beating of my own heart, that sent the hot blood cours- ing through my veins. My temples throbbed, and but increased my fear. I dared not move, and yet I could not stay. I longed to run, but my limbs were rigid. I tried to shriek, but my tongue was dry and parched. I wished that I could swoon, but no, I was condemned to stay thus, upright, and hear that fiery liquid palpipate within my pulse. Transfixed by fear, I could not move nor speak, but stood, another rock in this deserted waste. Cold perspiration gathered on my brow and each hair rose erect upon my head. The overpowering stillness quenched the peace of solitude and cruel silence har- rowed up my soul. How long I stayed I do not know. But at length the demon came, and broke the spell; and I found pleasure in his com- pany. How I returned, and whence, I can not tell; but what I know is this:— There is no terror like the terror of silence and desolation, and he who mocks at thunderous noise and sneers at agony will quake and fear when all is gloomy, silent, dark, and still. Gordon Watts, ’22. TEACHERS TEACHERS (a la Kipling) I have taken my fun where I have found it, I have talked and gassed in my time, I have had all species of teachers, And that’s the excuse for this rhyme. One was a half-sized teacher, One was a woman at High, They tortured me so by studies That ofttimes I thought I should die. I was a young one at Quincy, Wise as could be to begin. They all did their best to reform me, And they were as clever as sin. The first one I mentioned was Ruthy, More like a side kick she were, For she’d kick me along, till I burst into song, And I learned about teachers from her. Then I was shifted to others, Much as a wreck was I then, And I got me a live young quarrel Through refusing to write with a pen. Donald Mack ay, ’22. THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 AT A HIGH SCHOOL DANCE Have you ever been to a high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance? Well, I remember one day long ago, When I went to a high school dance with my beau. The girls on the left, and the boys on the right, Wearing their best Sunday shoes, that were “Oh! so tight.” As has always been since the world began, Every girl in that room had picked her man. At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. Little Susie Brown who is “oh! so thin,” Chose none other than fat Charlie Lynne. Big Lillie Carter with a pimple on her nose, Chose Archibald Mose with his classy hose. Loud Janet Hall with a dimple in her cheek, Chose Harry Ball, who is very meek. Sweet Mary Ann, of the kissable lips, Chose Frankie Marr with his bulging hips, At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. But, Oh! what fun did we have at that dance, Where we had to beg the fellows to dance. So just think back to that time long ago, When you were one of the girls in that row. With your face and hands that were newly washed, And organdie bows you were afraid would get squashed. I’m as happy as can be That I can look back to that time and see Myself as one of the girls at that high school dance, Where the girls had to beg the fellows to dance. Ida Newman, Feb., 1923. 14 THE GOLDEN-ROD THE CAPTURE OF A NIGHT-MOTH Not a breath of air was stirring. The velvety blackness studded with diamond- like stars, above. The very leaves on the trees were silent. Silently, gracefully, a night-moth flew toward me, as I sat on an old decayed log in a room of the for- est. The walls of the room were formed by alder bushes, and the green moss car- pet on the ground gave one a feeling of walking on a heavy plush carpet. The moth sailed a bit to my right, and I was able to observe its color, a pale jade green. It nearly settled on an alder leaf, then, in light, airy flight, flew high above my head, a pale green moth, whose very color made me gasp. It circled above me a few times, then flew lower, and with a long sweep of its plane-like wings flew away into the night. I followed until all trace of it was lost, then went back to the log by my lan- tern to await the attraction of another moth. I sat there for some time, then, looking suddenly toward the opening in the green walls where the moth had flown, slowly, silently, and tantalizingly out into the starry depths of the night I saw it reappear. What luck! It came slowly, gently toward me. I dared not breathe lest I should break the spell. I grasped two leaves and rested my hand on the log, near my lantern. The night-moth swerved. I was going to lose it after all. However, unexpectedly it gave a great lilt of its wings and settled on the leaves. I hastily slipped it into my case, then drew a long breath. I was fairly ex- hausted. No one can know the exaltation of such a capture except one who has that fascinating experience. E. Morgan, ’24. “BY GUM” DINNY 0, Dinny O’Brien was a lad, young and fair, A joy to his father, but his teacher’s despair, Who cuffed his red head and scolded all day, “You’ll never reach heaven, Dinny, mark what I say!” But Dinny just grinned his sly wicked smile And tossed another spit-ball down the aisle! Chorus “I may be a devil, with a head like a drum, But life is some rosy for me, yes, by Gum!” Well, Dinny grew to a fine-looking lad. Who made all the girls look wistful and sad; They smiled and they cast long languishing looks. At the fiery young head from behind their big books: But Dinny disdainfully sniffed, turned away, “Weak, silly creatures,” they all heard him say! Chorus “Brainless—foolish—worthless,” he’d hum, “Keep far from me, forever, by Gum!” Then eager for life and chock full of “pep,” Dinny traveled the world and made the queer “rep” Of being a roistering, howling young fiend, But pure as the youngest youngster yet weaned! But always, always, his proud boast would be, “No wily woman has ever caught me!” Chorus “In far foreign lands, or wherever I come, A woman’s smile means nothing, by Gum!” Then free as the foam on the crest of a wave, Dinny sailed back to the home of the brave; Then Ho! for the jest of life’s merry fate, For out of the crowd flashed the face of his mate,— A rosy young face and roguish blue eyes,— And captured his heart with love’s sweet surprise! Chorus “There’s something wrong! My heart’s strick- en dumb, And the world’s topsy-turvy, and jumping, by Gum!” That was ten years ago; and Dinny today, Ne’er repeats his proud boast in the old cocky way, For, like all such fools below and above, Dinny learned of the sweetness of a woman’s pure love; And tenderly clasping his little ones fast, He tells of his foolish, dark, wicked past! Chorus “I’ve lived the life of the pirate bum, But give me love, that’s all, by gum! Merrill C. Or swell, ’22. 15 THE GOLDEN-ROD Hanover, New Hampshire, Le 26 fevrier, 1922. Ma chere Doris: Enfin nous sommes arrivees, apres toutes nos peurs de ne pas pouvoir venir. Et croyez-moi, nous nous amusons bien. Les jeunes homines nous avaient ren- contrees a la gare a “White River” et nous avaient conduites a “Hanover” (c’etait jeudi apres-midi). En arrivant a Hanover nous avons traverse la ville, parce que toutes les jeunes hommes qui avaient invite les demoiselles au carna- val desiraient les montrer a ceux qui ne les avaient pas invitees. C’est drole, n’est-ce pas? Le soir il y avait un carnaval en plien air, a “Faculty Pond.” Nous avons apporte nos patins, et toutes les jeunes filles portaient les costumes chics. C’etait tres joli, il faisait claire de lune, la glace etait tres bonne, et tout etait parfait. Plus tard nous sommes alles a une maison de Societe pour danser un peu. Vendredi apres-midi il y avait des evenements sur les “skiis.” Ils etaient tres interessants, je t’assure. Apres cela, nous sommes alles a un “the dansant,” chez un des Societes. La nous avons fait la connaisance de bien des jeunes hommes, tant que, mainte- nant je ne sais pas avec lesquels j’ai danse. Maintenant vient le mieux de tout, le costume bal! C’etait vendredi soir. Je ne peux te le deerire; il me sem- blait que je revais, tout le temps, c’etait si merveilleux! Ce matin, bien entendu, je ne me suis pas levee tres de bonne heure, et apres- midi nous sommes alles au “Ski-Jump,” qui a cent cinquante pieds de haut! Ma coeur etait dans la bouche chaque in- stant, j’etais si excitee. Demain matin nous partirons pour Wollaston. Je ne desire pas retourner, je t’assure. Je suis si fatiguee, mais il valait la peine de venir, je me suis tant amusee. Je te verrai dimanche apres- midi, et je te dirai en details tout ce qui s’est passe. Bien a toi, Chy. Charlotte Nowell, 1922. WHAT I WRITE? Teacher, she ask I’m write story. Me, I’m not used to write story. What I write? “Anything, my dear,” teacher say; “your thoughts, anything at all.” So I’m take pen in one hand and chin in n’other, and try, try write mine thoughts. I’m chew my pencil. Bah! It not good. What I write? My thoughts? But what I think? Nothing, nothing’t all. I’m sit and hold my chin. I’m kick my feet. It say, “Ow!” Not like. I’m hold my head; I’m bite my tongue. All no good. What I write? It say in book, “It was a dark and dis- mal night. The baying of the hounds sounded hollow and eery.” But that not true here. I’m sit in chamber of sleep, on chair in front of looking glass. I’m knit my brows; I’m gaze on space. (I’m peek in glass, and think I’m look nice, like that). No good. No thought come. What I write? “First prize, fifty dollars.” I’m see me, make believe, send in nice, long story. Man read; him say, “Good, fine, very ex- cellent.” Him print in paper. All the world read. All clap; say, “Good.” Sona Mari got $50 prize! “Hurrah, good girl!” I’m make smile with mouth, one little bit. Say, “Thanks,” and have picture take. Good fun. All the world like. Like what? Story? What story? Bah! I’m not write. I’m make-believe. What I write? I’m look in glass. My cheek is pale; my face is hollow, skin is lily white. I’m raise my slender arms on high; I’m cry, “Oh, sir lord and liege of mine, come hence, I pray thee, hither come.” I’m raise my ear and list to noise, “Oh, my errant knight, he comes!” I’m bend my gaze to ground below. My knight, he galop fast on horse. He foam at mouth, he run so hard. My knight, him wore a sword. “I come!” Him scale the ladder, up and up; him break down iron fettered door. Him clasp my form; I’m melt away. Him whisper, plead, and sigh, “My heart!” I’m fall and fall; black space rise up. It bump my head hard. I’m say, “Ow!” I’m open my eye—I’m on the floor! Shame on! I’m dream such silly dream. What, what I write? It no use; my pencil broke. I’m throw my paper down and say, “I’m not write. I’m not think. Good-bye.” OUR NEW HIGH SCHOOL 17 THE GOLDEN-ROD SCHOOL NEWS FOOTBALL BANQUET About two tons of turkey done to the turn and carved by Mr. Collins were de- voured by a crowd of football boys and their fathers at a banquet Friday night, January fifth, in the free-hand drawing room. All the side dishes that go with turkey were served, and a plate, or rather plates, of ice cream finished the dinner and nearly finished some eaters. After every one had had his fill, Toast- master John Lane called upon Mr. Collins, Coach Mitchell, other faculty members, and fathers for speeches. The speakers said that Quincy should be proud of its team, not only because of the fine record it has, but because of its repu- tation for clean, hard playing. The need of an enclosed field was discussed, and it was decided to try to have one in the near future. Mr. Webb spoke of the difficulty of securing Saturday dates for next year’s home games from the Park Commissioner. Several of the fathers promised to use their influence to secure the desired dates. Captain Guild made a speech in which he thanked the team for its hard work, and predicted a successful season next fall. Captain-elect Guinan was called upon, and he replied very briefly, saying he hoped that next season would be as successful as the past season. Music was furnished throughout the evening by an orchestra of students and alumni. FOOTBALL RECEPTION If you were one of the unfortunates who did not see Merrill Orswell perform tricks at the football reception, Friday, December 16th, you are to be pitied. He entertained the audience with numerous tricks with balls, cards, etc. His best trick was to cover a glass of water with a handkerchief and snap the handkerchief toward the audience. Those in the front row ducked, but the glass had disap- peared in transit. Gordon Spear, cor- netist, and the Union Quartet, consisting of George Laing, Donald Spear, Clifton Leake, and George Gould, completed the excellent entertainment. Dancing was enjoyed in the gym until 9.15, when Mr. Collins made a short speech praising Coach Mitchell and the team. Mrs. Collins then pinned football Q’s on eighteen boys and Manager Mac- quarrie. Girls’ Q’s were awarded to those girls who sold tags at the games. Refresh- ments were served, and dancing contin- ued until 10.30. DEBATING SOCIETY The Debating Society has at present nineteen members. As the full quota of the Club is thirty, there are now eleven vacancies. President Hyman Richman sends out an urgent appeal for new mem- bers. The advantages of the society are numerous, the most important being that of giving each member confidence in him- self to stand before an audience and speak clearly, forcibly, and in good English. Come on, slackers, join up! A regular meeting was held December 4th. The following questions were de- bated: Resolved: That the Monroe Doc- trine should be continued as the perma- nent foreign policy of the United States. The affirmative, consisting of Cummings, Mackay, Severance, and Weil, won the award. They were opposed by Richman, O’Brien, Thomas, and Nickerson. The second question: Resolved: That the proposed quadruple alliance between France, Great Britain, Japan, and the United States should be adopted. The negative won this debate. It was made up of Archibald, Johnson, and Prior. The affirmative consisted of Blake, Crosscup, and Merrill. Plans have been completed for a debate with Everett, January 27th, at Everett. It is expected to meet Cambridge Latin Sortie time in March. New officers for the next half year have been elected: President—Donald MacKaye. Vice-President—Harold Severance. Treasurer—Leon Prior. Secretary—Wesley Archibald. 18 THE GOLDEN-ROD LATIN CLUB The Latin Club has elected permanent officers: President—Virginia Ripley. Secretary—Caroline Field. Treasurer—Joseph O’Brien. The Club met the week before Christ- mas and discussed the Ruins of Pompeii. Many interesting points were disclosed by the members. SPANISH CLUB The following are the successful candi- dates at the election, Thursday, January 12th: President—Evelyn Faulds. Vice-President—Madeline Fay. Treasurer—Ethel Macphee. Secretary—Elizabeth Sweeney. The members went as a body to see Ibanez’s “Blood and Sand” at the Hollis Street Theatre, Thursday, December 4th, as guests of Miss Zeller. THALIA CLUB The members of this Club gave a Christmas party to about sixty poor chil- dren shortly before Christmas. Games were played by all, old and young, dur- ing the afternoon. Santa Claus, imper- sonated by Harriet Palmer, had gifts for all the youngsters, and each one was made happy by his or her present. Ice cream was served and the party was brought to a close, the children happy and the girls declaring that they had had a better time than expected. It was just another ex- ample of this saying, “It is better to give than to receive.” GLEE CLUBS The Glee Clubs are practicing diligently every week. They sang at the Christmas concert and at the Parker School, Tues- day evening, January 24th. ORCHESTRA The Orchestra played at a Christmas party for poor children at the Eye and Ear Hospital, Cambridge, Saturday, De- cember 24th. Harold Merrill, a former member, assisted the Orchestra. CLASS ELECTION The September, 1923, class held their election for officers, Wednesday, Decem- ber 14th. The result: President—Joseph O’Brien. Vice-President—Alice Goodhue. Secretary—Elizabeth Brown. Treasurer—Hargraves Heap. Pin Committee — Janet Macdonald, Harold MacLeod, Edna Abbiatti. ASSEMBLY Monday, November 20th, the school assembled in the hall. After the opening exercises, Mr. Collins read the honor roll, and said that it was not as large as usual. He asked the students to study harder, saying that the person who receives good marks in school usually does well in the business he undertakes. Wednesday, January 4th, about twenty alumni returned to their old school and spoke on the subject, “What are the ad- vantages of colleger” The joys and advantages of college study, life, and ath- letics were explained; several humorous stories illustrating these were heartily en- joyed by the students. Each speaker, whether he came from Harvard, Boston University, Technology, Massachusetts Agricultural, or any other college, or whether she came from Smith or Mount Holyoke, was positive that his or her alma mater offered better advantages to the high school graduates than any other col- lege. Mr. Collins stated at the conclusion that it was hoped to make this an annual event. CHRISTMAS CONCERT The school enjoyed some excellent music at the Christmas concert, Thurs- day, December 22nd, as a result of the Misses Howes’ and Tuthill’s untiring ef- forts. Carols and songs were sung by the school and the Boys’ and Girls’ Glee Clubs, who showed the result of constant practice by their unity. Mr. Webb as- sisted the boys, adding much to the har- mony. Dr. Gould, soloist, was the only singer not a member of the school body or faculty. He was repeatedly encored THE GOLDEN-ROD 19 and forced to sing several songs not scheduled. Miss Flagg, ’cellist; Misses Farrar and Lydon, violinists, played, and convinced the students that they have some excellent musicians for teachers. The Orchestra played several pieces with its accustomed brilliancy. As a whole, the concert was as good as those for which it is necessary to pay high prices. LIBRARY NOTES A new feature is being planned through which you may enjoy the resources of the library. Either the fifth or sixth period on Fridays there will be reading aloud. All who have a free period at that time may attend by getting library permits be- fore the period. The following pupils are among those who will read: George Laing, Robert Cunningham, Doris Currier, El- len Pyyny, Richard Crosscup, Hyman Richman, James Keating, Eleanor Akin, and Harlow Schenkelberger. A good program is promised. Watch for an- nouncements and plan your work so that you can enjoy the period. A library staff has been formed to as- sist in the library afternoons, to acquaint the students with the resources of the library, and to give special help to the incoming class of freshmen. Those stud- ents who have shown interest in and abil- ity for this work form the staff: Joseph Anderson, Nicholas Avgerinos, Gordon Archibald, Philip Hokenson, Gilman Russell, Cabell Ryals, Natalie Adams, Henrietta Burroughs, Margaret Heselton, Sophie Morentz, Irene Pemberton, Clara Saylor, Edna Shea, Olive Rogers, Rachel Thomas. John Reed, News Editor. SOME OF THE BEST NEW BOOKS Hawes—The Mutineers. A real sea yarn set back a century or more. It is a book written with a swing and go, and windy of the high seas, full of the wild doings of those earlier days. Hall Nordgoff—Faery Lands of the South Seas. For two years the authors lived the native life in all sorts of experiences. Theirs is probably the most amazing South Sea story. Bok—The Americanization of Edward Bok. I didn’t know biography could be so entertaining. It reads like fiction.—A Sophomore. Hawes—The Great Quest. Filled with the thrills that lovers of ad- venture yarns get. An altogether engros- sing adventure story, told in delightful fashion. Franck—Working North from Patagonia. You who have read “Vagabond Jour- ney Around the World” and other books by this author know the reason for their popularity. Here is another just as good. Scoville—Everyday Adventures. By all means read this book if you love birds, flowers or the woods. Robinson—My Brother Theodore Roose- velt. An intimate picture of his childhood, boyhood, youth, and manhood. TRIP TO TECH About twenty-five boys of Mr. Wilson’s and Mr. Bum’s physic classes attended a lecture at Tech Saturday, Jan. 20th. Prof. G. Goodwin spoke on the subject: “Light —Visible and Invisible.” Although a great deal of the talk was above the boys’ heads, nevertheless they were very much interested, especially in the experiments. In one experiment that was especially in- teresting, Prof. Goodwin took a round piece of cardboard half blue and half yel- low. When he revolved this it became white instead of green. DEBATE Friday, Jan. 27th, a debate was held at Everett. Quincy boys upheld the negative of this question, “Resolved, that the United States should recognize the Soviet government in Russia.” The Quincy de- baters were Donald Mackay, Walter Blake, Wesley Archibald, and Donald Cummings, alternate. Walter Morris, Henry Thompson and Coleman J. Joel, Jr., represented Everett. As one of the judges was absent and the remaining two were divided, the debate was declared a 20 THE GOLDEN-ROD tie. The judges were also divided on the best speaker. Everett was superior in elocution and more fluent in speaking, but Quincy presented the best argument. Everett will debate at Quincy next year. Mr. Thomas A. Watson, who helped Alexander Graham Bell invent the tele- phone, spoke to the school Monday, Jan. 23rd. Mr. Watson was very interesting, and told how the telephone was discov- ered, made, and perfected. Mr. Bell and Mr. Watson were experimenting on the harmonic telegraph one day when Mr. Bell heard a slight noise made by the in- ALUMNI The Alumni Association commenced the season, Wednesday, December 28th, 1921, with a masquerade ball, which was a great success. 1908 Ted Keohane, an overseas veteran, was married last November to Miss Margaret Carey of Quincy, a Woodward graduate. 1910 Captain Thomas H. Veale, Dental Corps, United States Regular Army, has been transferred to Fort Wright, New York. 1911 Miss Elizabeth W. Sayward was re- cently married to Dr. Robert E. Baldwin of Tampa, Florida. Miss Sayward is a graduate of the class of 1911. Dr. and Mrs. Baldwin intend to make their home in the South. 1912 The engagement of Miss Martha W. Cohan of Mattapan to Mr. Nathaniel Warshaw has been announced. Mr. War- shaw, a graduate of this class, also a grad- uate of M. I. T., 1916, is employed with the Murray and Tregurtha Co. Miss Eveline Usher was engaged in De- cember to Alfred A. Clough, an ex-’12. Mr. Clough is also a graduate of M. A. C. in the class of 1916. 1914 Viola Jackson is now teaching at Mil- ton High School. Eddie Berman is teaching economics in Illinois. strument with which Mr. Watson was working. From this he and Mr. Watson made many experimental telephones and finally succeeded in making one success- ful. The first telephone ever used is now as clear and distinct as those in present use. This was proved when Mr. Watson and Mr. Bell talked from New York to San Francisco, Mr. Bell using the first telephone. The school paid close atten- tion to Mr. Watson, and owes many thanks to Miss Emerson, who persuaded Mr. Watson to speak to us. NOTES 1916 Henry W. Erickson, who graduated from M. I. T. last June, is employed with the American Smelting Refining Com- pany in Chihuahua, Mexico. (Henry says, ‘‘Mexico is just as bad as they picture it.� ) Mr. and Mrs. Angus White have an- nounced the engagement of their daugh- ter Margaret, to Stephen Humphrey of Lawrence. Gertrude Price, a well-known cornetist, has announced her engagement to Hollis Johnson of the T6 class. Miss Price is a graduate of Dorchester High and is a member of the Quincy Ladies’ Orchestra. Hollis is employed by the Boston Tran- script. The wedding will take place in June. 1917 Russell Johnson and John Cummings graduated from M. I. T. last June. “Rus” is now with the Tennessee Copper Co. in Ducktown, Tennessee. John is an assist- ant instructor at M. I. T. Carl Hammond also graduated from M. I. T. last June. A daughter was born in December to Mrs. David R. Stabler. Mrs. Stabler, who before her marriage was Dorothy Parker, is making her home in Pennsyl- vania. A Christmas engagement of much in- terest was that of Violet Shay to Sheldon Heap. Mr. Heap, besides being a gradu- ate of Q. H. S., 1917, is a graduate of Northeastern College, 1921, and is an em- THE GOLDEN-ROD 21 ployee of the New England Tel. Tel. Co. Recently when amateur wireless tele- graphers sent messages to Scotland, his was one of the few that were received. Esther Bagg is a senior at Radcliffe. 1919 Alice Dixon is doing stenography work at the Murray and Tregurtha Co. Amy Blomquist graduated from the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago last December. John Flavin is a junior at Boston Col- lege. John is a member of the reportorial staff of “The Heights,” the Boston Col- lege weekly. Wallace Trumper, prominent in Quincy High School dramatics, is a junior at M. I. T. Hazel Scott, a graduate of this class, has announced her engagement to Fred- erick A. Taylor. Miss Scott is employed at the Pneumatic Scales Corporation, and Mr. Taylor is a violin instructor. Lucy Bagg is attending Simmons Col- lege. Sumner Swingle is working with his father. Florence Hoagland is a sophomore at Boston University. Edna Campbell is a member of the sophomore class at Wellesley. Fred Djerf is at Tufts. 1920 William Couch and Maurice Crowell are sophomores at M. I. T. Azenath Kilpatrick is married. Arthur Olson has a position with the National Shawmut Bank. William Jenness is a second year P. G. at Thayer. Mary Remick and Dorothy Cole are sophomores at Smith. Clifford Boshan is attending B. U. Law School. Lois Kemp, Margaret Ponch, and Anna Ollson are sophomores at B. U. Marion Hall is attending Bryant and Where, and oh where has the girls’ school uniform gone? The white sweaters look quite as attractive, however. Stratton. Morris Silverman is a sophomore at Northeastern. Ethelle Cleale is a student at Lasell Seminary. William (Luck) Deane is employed by Richards Co., metal dealers. 1921 Dorothy Prout, Alumni editor of the Golden Rod last year, is now a P. G. Marjorie Owens is with relatives in Chicago. Archibald Blair is at the University of Vermont. Dick Saunders goes to Clark Univers- ity, Worcester. Francis Driscoll is a freshman at Bos- ton College. Catherine Foye has announced her en- gagement. Alice White is at the Sacred Heart Con- vent, Canada. Sadye Berman goes to Bridgewater Normal. Ruth Wilmore and Josephine Ghigli are doing library work. Margaret Callahan is working for the Bahr Music Co. George Golden has a position with the New England Tel. Tel. Co. Paul Akin is attending the Faelton School of Music. Arthur Mendel won the Price Green- leaf Aid for Harvard. Edward Speirs and George Cooke are attending Lowell Tech. Helen White is a freshman at B. U. Willard Edwards and John Djerf are P. G’s. Bradford Ropes is a P. G. at Thayer Academy. The following are attending Northeast- ern College: Edwin Davidson, Bennie Berman, Arthur Whitehead, Louis Mer- rill, and Roy Olson. Mary Driscoll, Alumnae Editor. Speaking of uniforms, the basket-ball uniforms certainly are snappy, and es- pecially the stockings. FOOTBALL, 1921 Quincy ended its football season Thanksgiving morning, when it played a 7—7 tie with the Alumni. Considering the muddy field, our men played good football. Guinan, Listman and Wood- worth starred for Quincy, and Topham and Woodworth did good work for the Alumni. SOPHOMORES 35, FRESHMEN 0 The following Friday the two lower classes met on a muddy field. The fresh- men were out-aged and out-weighed by the sophomores. Capt. Neal, Mowbray, and Nelson starred for the sophomores. Capt. Cook and Todd did good work for the losers. The game was nothing but a picnic for the sophomores who used two full teams. The freshmen were game to the last and have pluck if nothing else. FOOTBALL RECEPTION At the football reception “Q’s” were given to Capt. Guild, Capt.-elect Guinan, Johnson, Arverson, Richmond, Dingwell, Anderson, Barstowe, Reed, Shenkelber- ger, McLeod, Bassett, Woodworth, Neal, Cole, Cliffe, Listman, Heap, and Manager McQuarrie. Foster was chosen next year’s manager, while “Ted” Guinan was elected to lead it throughout its 1922 season. Guinan has two years’ experience on the gridiron and should make a good captain. Besides the above mentioned, there are Mowbray, Berman, Hoey, Nelson, Fos- tello, Van Nostitz, Cook, Rhodes, and Young. These boys have played in the minor games this season and should be a great factor in next year’s team. Coach Mitchell more than deserves praise for his hard work throughout the season. The squad gave him a gift as a mark of appreciation of his services. Fac- ulty Manager Webb and Student Mana- ger McQuarrie should be rewarded for their good work. This year Quincy was better outfitted than it has ever been be- fore. Mr. Webb bought all that the school fund could afford. Mr. Nisson taught the line men a good many things necessary in their playing and was greatly responsible for getting them into condi- tion. With these men back next year there is no reason why we shouldn’t have a successful season. BASKETBALL, 1921 The 1921 basketball season opened with a rush. To Coach Clark’s first call 40 boys reported. After two weeks of try- outs the squad was reduced to eighteen boys. A week later it was cut down to ten boys. These men were the pick of forty boys. They are Listman, Maskilieson, Neal, Cummings, Woodworth, Cole, Bar- stow, Guinan, Anderson, and Jacobson. Mr. Clark whipped the squad into shape and the first game was played with Chel- sea, Jan. 6, 1922. CHEASEA 21, QUINCY 0 Chelsea administered a beating to the home team by the above score. Chelsea always has a strong team and this year was no exception. Our boys were be- wildered by Chelsea’s clever passing and fell a victim to its snappy team work. QUINCY 23, MALDEN 12 Quincy took on a new lease of life the following Tuesday and took a hand at giv- ing a beating itself. Quincy’s work had greatly improved. Maskilieson was re- peatedly “fed” by Guinan and Listman, and by the aid of his good shooting, Quincy won. ROCKLAND 22, QUINCY 18 Rockland gave Quincy a beating the following Friday on its own floor. Rock- THE GOLDEN-ROD 23 land’s gym was not of regulation size and our men were greatly handicapped by the low ceiling. At the end of the first half, Rockland had 17 points to Quincy’s 7. Quincy by this time had begun to get used to the gym. Our boys outplayed their opponents in the next half and the final score was 22 to 18. Herbert Berman, Athletic Editor. GIRLS BASKETBALL The girls of Quincy High School are showing their athletic enthusiasm by playing basketball. The first game was played on Tuesday, January 10, Juniors vs. Seniors. The Juniors were completely outplayed, the score being 17—6. The Seniors showed splendid team-work, Ethel Wiley seldom failing to make her baskets for the Seniors. The cause of the Juniors’ downfall was mostly wild throwing, but as this was the first game of the season, they may improve with practice. The schedule of games is as follows: Jan. 13—Sophomores vs. Freshmen. Jan. 17—Seniors vs. Sophomores. Jan. 20—Juniors vs. Freshmen. Jan. 24—Juniors vs. Sophomores. Jan. 27—Seniors vs. Freshmen. Jan. 31—Seniors vs. Juniors. Feb. 3—Sophomores vs. Freshmen. Feb. 7—Seniors vs. Sophomores. Feb. 10—Juniors vs. Freshmen. Feb. 14—Juniors vs. Seniors. Feb. 17—Seniors vs. Freshmen. Emily Stewart. HAVE YOU FLAT FEET? Is the spirit of the Q. H. S. boys so dead that a draft must be resorted to if Q. H. S. is to be at all represented among the schools in track athletics? Is it neces- sary to recourse to abject appeals for support in this age-old sport? Must we admit Q. H. S., our school, to be a “One Horse” institution.? We have honorably met the best schools in the state in football and basketball with a fair degree of success. Your lack of loyalty and red-bloodedness prevents Q. H. S. from showing them a clean pair of heels on the cinders. One thing is certain—Q. H. S. must and shall be recognized as a factor in the track world. How great a measure of success we achieve, or how bitter a dose of in- glorious defeat we swallow rests entirely with you; depends upon your allegiance; reflects upon Quincy High School. Three simple fundamentals are required to make a good track team—a good coach, very little money, but many, many, steady, hardworking loyal men who will stick in fair weather or foul. We have a good coach; if necessary we can get the money; we have enough steady, hard- working fellows. Then why haven’t we a track team.? Seemingly because these hardworking, steady fellows ignore the call of duty to their school. They ignore the support, the allegiance they owe to Q. H. S. Fellows, we must get together and push. We must each do our little share for the common glory of our school and incidentally for ourselves. In track, un- like other sports, the privilege of repre- senting the school is not limted to a fa- vored few. The greater number of men we have the greater is our chance for vic- tory. Track requires but 30 minutes of your time three times a week. Surely you won’t deny your school that much? The mistaken idea is current that in order to “make” a track team a fellow must pos- sess marvelous or extraordinary qualities. But the fact remains, as any sensible indi- vidual will agree, that any one who is not crippled can become a track athlete. All you fellows, whether you are short or tall, stout or thin, big or little, can be placed. Bear in mind that track consists of sprinting, middle and long distance run- ning, high and broad jumping, hurdling and shot-putting. Surely no red-blooded chap will admit without shame that he cannot do at least one of these natural exercises. Are you getting the full worth of your High School career? Come out and meet, mingle, and hold your own with the other men. Be a vital, live influence in your school. You lower classmen, you fresh- men, you sophomores, juniors, we chai- 24 THE GOLDEN-ROD lenge your spirit of loyalty. Upon your shoulders rests the responsibility for the future reputation of Q. H. S. Upon your shoulders rests the burden of upholding the standard of our school. It is your time to train to defend the honor of Q.H.S. as successfully as your predecessors. We will answer for the support of the Senio; class. We appeal to you little fellows who have had no chance in other sports. Come out for track. Show that you are at least willing to defend your school. Never mind what you can’t do. Every one can learn. It is up to you small fellows to demonstrate that you are small only in stature. The coach will be only too glad to enlarge upon your other accomplish- ments. What have you done for Quincy High? Let your conscience answer. Fellow class- mates, our willingness to defend Quincy High School is doubted. Our spirit of loyalty is challenged. Shall we answer? Plans are being made to send a senior and midget relay team to the indoor meets in Boston in February. Meets with Win- throp, Thayer, Revere, and Gloucester will be arranged for in the spring. BRAINTREE 13; QUINCY 12 Braintree defeated Quincy in a close- fought game. Braintree was exception- ally strong for a small school, while our boys could not locate the basket. Our boys played a poor game, and all the luck seemed to be with Braintree. Maskilic- son shot practically all of Quincy’s bas- kets. MILTON 27; QUINCY 17 Quincy struck something real hard when it played Milton. Our boys were handicapped by the strange gym and the team was weakened by the loss of List- man and Nelson. Milton had a real team and deserves credit for winning. ROCKLAND 17; QUINCY 16 Quincy had the edge on Rockland the first half, but in the third and fourth periods Rockland came from behind and with some spectacular shooting and splendid work gave Quincy another beat- ing. Students of Quincy High School, your school spirit is falling. The attendance at the games is poor. You must come out if you want your team to win. The boys work hard and believe their team is going to win. However, a few pessimists al- ways say that the team is going to be beaten. If every one felt that way, what kind of a team will we have? Let’s get together and boost our team. With your full support it will win. Herbert Berman, Athletic Editor. CAMP LIFE IN MAINE (Continued from Literary) Some may sing of the call of the sea,— Some, of the lure of the West. But there’s only one spot that holds promise for me:— Northern Maine with her foliaged breast. Give me the vistas of straight-standing pine, The pine-needles soft to the tread; The cool, spicy odor that braces like wine, From the evergreens high overhead. The thrill—be it mine!—when the chickadee calls From the top of the hemlock at dawn. When, in sweet, tripping melody each clear note falls, Greeting the birth of the mom. The splash of the bass on the mirrorlike lake; The snort of the moose at its brim, As he noisily drinks at the day’s early break, —A wood’s monarch, sturdy and grim. The rush down the stream of the hand-battling trout; The loud-singing reel in the hand; The rod double-bent as the line fast pays out; —The struggle to bring him to land. And at evening the camp-fire’s flickering light, The sound of the crackling boughs; And the myriad noise of the midsummer night; And the warmth of the after-meal drowse. These things do I choose,—simple comforts, you say, But for me not the sorrow and pain That is brought by great wealth,—mine the pleas- ures, each day, Of camp-life in northern-most Maine. F. St. Clair, ’22. THE GOLDEN-ROD 25 EXCHANGES We are trying hard to build up a good Exchange Department, and by our next issue we hope to have one of the largest among the High Schools in New England. The following magazines have been re- ceived: “The Register,” Cambridge, Mass. “Drury Academe,” North Adams, Mass. “The Argus,” Gardner, Mass. “The Tattler,” Nashua, New Hamp- shire. “The Abhis,” Abington, Mass. “The Jabberwock,” Boston, Mass. “The Breeze,” Ashburnham, Mass. “Barrington Recorder,” Barrington, Rhode Island. “Upsala Gazette,” Kenilworth, New Jersey. “The Wampatuck,” Braintree, Mass. “Oak Leaves,” Vassalboro, Maine. “The Mirror,” Waltham, Mass. “High School Review,” Medford, Mass. “Stetson Oracle,” Randolph, Mass. “The Spaulding Sentinel,” Barre, Ver- mont. “The Lynn Classical High School Ga- zette,” Lynn, Mass. “THESE TERRIBLE CRITICISMS” “The Register,” Cambridge, Mass.— Your material is good, but your athletic notes seem to be scattered through the magazine. Why not compile them? “Drury Academe,” North Adams, Mass.—Your magazine is very complete. The Joke and Exchange Departments are especially good. “The Jabberwock,” Boston, Mass.— The stories are fine, but more jokes would make the magazine livelier. “The Abhis,” Abington, Mass.—Your jokes are very original, and are enjoyed. “The Tattler,” Nashua, N. H.—The cuts at the heads of the departments are fine, and your “Personals” are certainly good. “The Argus,” Gardner, Mass.—The number of your advertisements shows a great amount of work. We found “The Argus” very interesting. “The Spaulding Sentinel” Barre, Vt.— Your editorials and school notes are espe- cially good, but what has happened to your Exchange Column? “The Mirror,” Waltham, Mass.—You have good material, but don’t you think it spoils the appearance of the magazine to have advertisements on every page? Emily Stewart, Exchange Editor. JOKES Mr. Wilson: Why do they have black notes on the piano? Smith: So you can see them. Miss Galleher: Did you have a good lesson while I was away? Ford: Oh, Oui! Tres bum (bonne). Coombs: What was the cause of the Irish famine? Nelson: Why, the potatoes froze and the Irish died. Collins: What was the established church of Ireland? Kendall: The Christian Scientist. L. E. F.: Cole! What do you think you will get if you keep on talking like that? Cole: A sore throat. Miss Kinner: Do you know that List- man talks in his sleep? Alice Goodhue: No, how do you know? Miss K.: Well, it’s true, he recited in class this morning. Rhodes: The school has hired a new dish-washer. Belden: How so? Rhodes: I noticed the difference in the finger prints on my plate. Miss McDermott: Miss Giles, stop talking, I’m presiding!—Eng. E 5b. Webster (scuffing all the way back to his seat.) Miss Coombs: Webster Gleason, go back to the waste basket and pick up your feet and walk. Dennison: I hear you are trying to aim high this year, Harry. Damon: Yes, I’ve succeeded; I broke a light last time I aimed. Newell: How do you feel to-day? Spratt: Like a loaf of bread. Newell: How’s that? Spratt: Tip-Top. Miss Twombley: Who was at the bat- tle of Troy? Bright Senior: Napoleon. Miss Bruce (after reading a passage in Spanish): Is that verb form right? Miss Zeller: Yes, what makes you think it isn’t? Miss Bruce: Well, all the class is laughing at it. Miss Zeller: It might not be the verb they are laughing at. Rhodes (translating a passage in Span- ish): “It was a glorious day. The moon and stars shone brightly.” Class discussing prices in Junior book- keeping—Miss Horrigan: Shall we change our beans? Miss Burns: It might not be a bad idea! Mr. Dawson: What are the Alien Se- dition Acts, Miss—er-er, well (Mr.) Pier- son. That’s an old one, class, don’t laugh. Pierson: I don’t know. Walsh: That’s an old one, too. Miss Flagg: Olsen, what is made from petroleum? Olsen: Millionaires. i Miss Wiley: Lead is the only thing that radium positively will not affect, and it affects that a little. Pitts: Why so gloomy, Drew? Drew: Oh, I went to see a show the other night and the ticket seller played a mean trick on me. Pitts: How so? Drew—Well, she asked me if I cared what nationality I sat behind, and I said, Of course not. Pitts: Well? Drew: So she put me in back of a Pole. Pupil in English: I think that theme was very well written up. Miss Giles: Written down, if you please! We all noticed that the football picture was in the Joke Section of the last Golden Rod. Miss Douglas: We will have all girls read this act. Joseph B------you read the first soldier. Miss Thompson: Here, Widlin, come up the stairs in two files please. L. E. F.: What is the commonest use of calcium carbonate (marble)? Johnson: Why, it is used to make gravestones. Miss Galleher: You can come to me any time for help. Ford: Where are you Saturdays and Sundays? T- A Kcn two eXtors - r -chief ( JcK-nso-h v o n ) chief rnact Uy � 5 VaLvrtme Jlay m QHS. 0 V; « £Jc Or Utt► f t'i of b.'icoy Js c=n?' THE GOLDEN-ROD 28 Dodge: If you get killed by an auto- mobile you’re dead. Not if you “Dodge” it. T.: Turn to Stevenson’s appendix and we’ll see how much we can cover. (All in a nut shell.) Freshie, entering restaurant: Do you serve lobsters here? Waiter: Yes, sit down! We serve any- body. Miss Colclough: Jocelyn, stop stamp- ing your feet, I can easily keep you after school, you know. Jocelyn: You’ll have to “hold me.” Miss M.: Mr. Springer, can I read the “Making of an American”? (No an- swer.) Miss M.: Can I ? It’s a corker, I mean it’s peachy. (Icy stare from Mrs. S.) Miss M.: I mean, it’s swell. (That’s a freshman.) My wife has gone to the West Indies to spend a few weeks. Is that so? Jamaica? Nope, she went of her own accord.— Lampoon. Wanted—Experienced general house- work girl not under thirty or forty years of age.—Quincy Ledger. Miss B.: What is the equator? Miss Sherman: It’s an imaginary line running around the earth. Voice: What’s its speed. It was a freak day and a certain young lady who had a tremendously large bow on her hair had just said, “I don’t know.” Whereupon the teacher replied, “I think it would be just as well to have some- thing inside our heads!” Weil (in English class): Washington Irving was always a bachelor because his wife died before he was married. Wayne Belding, Joke Editor. The Secret of the Well Dressed Young Man is not the size of his ward- robe, but the care he gives it. Frequent cleaning and press- ing will keep your clothes fresh and new, in fact, it is real economy. Have our solicitor call at your home or office. gj � ADVERTISERS NOTICE!! Copy for next issue of “Golden-Rod” MUST be in the managers hands by March 27th. Send if convenient Victor- Victrolas and Records AT 1454 Hancock St. Quincy EASY TERMS rm TUNER erences. and full «e — icctioo tdcohooe book. WESTLAND’S Paints and Hardware HANCOCK ST. QUINCY AN UP - TO - DATE PHOTOGRAPHER School Groups a Specialty 1507 Hancock Street Quincy GOWNS Smart Gowns and Coats Ready to Wear NEW YORK SAMPLES Madame Clapp 249 Highland Ave. Wollaston Tel. Granite 1378-W NATIONAL ADVERTISED GOODS Every article we carry in this store is a national advertised article, the quality is unquestionable. Every purchaser is guaranteed satisfaction. Some of our national advertised goods Mallory Hats, Reis-Underware, Hart-Schaffner and Marx Clothes Conqueror Hose, Talbofs Boston Made Clothes, Talbot Blue Ribbon Hose, Manhattan-Shirts, Arrow-Shirts, Emery-Shirts, Hickok Belts and Buckles, Arrow Collars, Manhattan Underware Gio'n Talbot-Quincy, Inc. “S ' CHATS WITH VOUR GAS MAIN! Do you read these articles as they appear each week in the three Quincy papers ? You should do so! They give cer- tain facts and general information concerning the gas industry that will be found interesting and in- structive. Over FOUR BILLION DOLLARS are invested in this business in the United States. Such an enterprise is worthy of study. It holds out many oppor- tunities to enterprising young men and women who look forward to being of real sendee to their fel- low citizens. This Company will be pleased to furnish information pertaining to our business, locally or nationally, at any time. CITIZENS9 GAS LIGHT CO. Office and Salesman 7 Granite Street Quincy ® Goods 286 Devcnsbiie St Boston M aa. THE HIGHEST QUALITY ATHLETIC GOODS MANUFACTURED Catalogue sent on request ALL MAKES TYPEWRITERS SOLD or RENTED CoroNA The Ideal Machine For Your School Work Complete with Case $50.00 GEORGE M. BARDEN Stationer 1395 HANCOCK STREET QUINCY SQUARE A Good Store in a Good Town WOMEN’S '5 BROGUE JAZZ DRESS 2 and 3 Strap Pumps Formerly Sold for $7.90 FOR MEN We are showing a variety of Styles at Prices that can’t be beat $5.00 $6.00 $7.00 Camel Hair Pure Wool Hosiery for Women $2.95 SMALLEY-TERHUNE COMPANY Opposite the Station W O l_ L. A S T o rvi C. M. PRICE CO. Wholesale and Retail ICE CREAM Manufacturers Washington Square WEYMOUTH Telephone 8U0 — vim i uuiiC U'Ji7.:- j|p4 — “LETS GET ACQUAINTED” JAMES P. CAHILL The Corset Shop MISS S. E. DUNPHY MEN’S FURNISHINGS Comer Beale St. and Greenwood Avenue Telephone Granite 893-W WOLLASTON Telephone Granite 2398- V 8 Maple Street Quincy Yerxa Motor Sales The Rice Studio Ford Sales L. Service 9 CLIVEDEN STREET The Short Street vrith the Bright Lights PORTRAITURE UNUSUAL FRAMES Cor. School St. and Quincy Ave. WE INVITE YOU to our store. It costs you nothing to look at the beautiful Bicycles we have on display OUR PRICES ARE RIGHT Holden Crout, Inc. CITY SQUARE QUINCY VISIT SHAW’S - SQUARE FEBRUARY SALE O F FURNITURE at 50% Saving over last year USE YOUR CREDIT COMPLETE HOME FURNISHERS Open CLOSE Every Day I 1 a •! FRIDAY NIGHT OPEN Until SATURDAY 5.30 P, M. NIGHTS THE NATIONAL MOUNT WOLLASTON BANK Established 1853 HENRY M. FAXON President ARTHUR H. ALDEN Vice-President GEORGE F. HALL Cashier Capital $ 150,000. Surplus 100,000. Profits 33,000. CHECK ACCOUNTS Individuals Firms Corporations Interest paid on balances CERTIFICATES OF DEPOSIT If you have money idle awaiting: investment we will pay interest from date of deposit to date of withdrawal. SAVINGS DEPARTMENT Money goes on interest the first day of each month Open Saturday Evenings 7 to 9 The only National Bank The only Member of the Federal Reserve Bank in Quincy