Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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8 THE CHIMES Lillian MacQuarrie, '14, is now Mrs. Andrew Finnie. Mildred Litchfield, '14, is teaching school in Quincy, Mass. Mrs. Frederic L. Wright, (Miss Marion Cole), '12, is living in Palo Alto, California and has two sons. The son of Laurence Haywood, '12, recently died from the effects of a mastoid. A NIGHT WITH THE TYPEWRITERS IN SCITUATE A typewriter rose in the stilly night and drew closer her cover for warmth, as she crept down the lonely halls. Her teeth chattered in fright, but her woes drove her on. On each stair she paused to search and peer around in the feeble light cast by the moon. Oh, where can they be, she moaned, and moaning crooned this song. 1 search, and I search, and I search in vain, For letters I never may find again. From words misspelled, I'm in such pain My ink has all rushed to my brain. The Remington woke from his sleep with a groan. What is this voice in the night? he cried, and his aged frame shook with fear. Closer he pulled the cover over his head, and drew the bar a little tighter. Can't an old fellow get a little decent rest at night? he muttered. I work hard all day and if my sleep is broken like this, I know that some day I shall go all to pieces. Ah ! — who would care, already I hear them finding fault with the old fellow that has served them so well and so long. My teeth may be a little loose and my frame a bit shaky, but after a good drink of fresh oil, I feel all the courage of a younger fellow and can do my bit with pride. Thus musing he grew wide awake. I'll show them, he whispered. I'm not afraid, and with creaking bones he rose. Come, comrade, said he to the Underwood who slept near him. I can see you are awake also and that your frame trembles with fear. Let us face this spook that roams the old school hall, and protect young Miss Royal here, who seems to have swooned, so pale and still she lies in the moonlight. Why, bust my ribbon! If Miss Woodstock hasn't dis- Barbaea Brown, Alumni Editor. HIGH

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THE CHIMES 7 settled on our shoulders. Thousands have written songs and verses about smiling when things go wrong. We all have heard the advice and we know it to be good, yet we seldom follow it. Many preach it but few practice it. It is easier to mope than to be gay when things go wrong, and we usually do. It is hard to square our shoulders, lift up our chins and smile; yet there is no adage better and no one gets far who does not live up to it. There are different ways of getting rid of the blues, different ways appeahng to different people. Book lovers turn to their faithful friends, their well-worn books; many seek to help their fellow-beings; and nearly all find a solace in Nature. Everyone, rich and poor, old and young, has his trouble and his happiness. It is all in Life's game, and those who take their hardships bravely, with lifted chin and smiling Hps, win the reward — happiness and success. The Editorial Staff wishes me to express their thanks to the Alumni who have subscribed to The Chimes. This means much toward the building up of our paper. Class notes are given below: George Murphy, '24, is now working in Boston for the Massachusetts Bond and Insurance Company. Martha Lincoln, '24, is employed in the office of George Keith in East Weymouth. Amy Frye, '24, is training to be a nurse at the Children's Hospital. Helen Jellows, '24, has completed her services at the Scitu- ate Post Office, and is employed by Mr. Yenetchi. Velma Pelrine, '23, has a new position in Boston with the First National Bank. Mary O'Hern, '23, has just completed a course at Bryant and Stratton and is working for the New England Dairy Food Council, Boston. Evelyn Clapp, '22, is working for the United Shoe Machin- ery Company, Boston, Mass. Dorothy Damon, '20, is a stenographer connected with the Library Bureau, Boston, Mass. Grace Waterman, '18, is teaching school in Wellesley, Mass. Annie Wilder, '17, is cost accountant in the Suffolk En- graving Company, Cambridge, Mass. Madolyn Murphy, '14, has returned from California, and is now employed as librarian in Southbridge, Mass. H. L. W. '26

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THE CHIMES 9 appeared entirely. Carried off, Fll wager, by this fearsome goblin in yonder hall. We must arm ourselves and fight this creature, good Underwood. It is the full of the moon, when witches ride and goblins dire with banshees dance and work their evil spells, but at cock crow their power ceases and me- thinks the hour is near. Still, thy clicking teeth. My own ink is chilled with horror of the unseen, and of the empty place that so lately held the beautiful form of our charming little friend. Let us speed away to the rescue. We'll hurl our longest words, our most ungrammatical sentences at the foe; banish the fiend with words that have no meaning, that are, and yet are not; floor him with words of fearful force; call Miss Woodstock to life if he has charmed her, with soft sentences from the poets, that we know so well. Forever and a day, we will banish this demon from our Scituate High, and arise a great dust with dry business letters that shall blow him into the next country. So saying, they bravely passed out into the hall. Peering over the banister, they beheld the lady of their search, weep- ing and moaning, as she passed into the library trailing her black robe behind her. ''Methiriks, said Remington softly, the lady walketh in her sleep. I will shake my keys, said Underwood, 'she must be awakened gently. So saying, he boldly entered the library and ran his fingers lightly over the entire alphabet. 0h, my friends, I am sleeping, sighed dolefully the gentle Miss Woodstock. ''Have I, in my selfishness, robbed you two of your needed rest? We care not about that, so that you are safe, spoke Remington. But why, pray tell me, do you roam and grieve so, this chilly night? Alas, alas, 'tis many a night since I have really slept, she sadly replied. I have endured so many hours of careless usage. I have been obliged to endure the disgrace of so many errors and mispelled words credited to me. My shame drives me forth to search for the lost letters that should be mine. You are young, spoke old Remington, and will become hardened to such treatment. I can well remember that in my youth I suffered the same sorrow. I will quote you a poem written by my old friend, Elsie Smith if I can remember it; it ran like this : They come to learn They come to learn They fritter their time away, And the words misspelled And the task half done Shall bring regrets some day.