Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

Page 27 text:

THE CHIMES 25 Big-ch icf-n o i -afraid Born 1843— 1863 At the battle of Gettysburg May he rest with the Good Spirit! ' ' Oh, then I was right after all and I didn ' t even have to look it up. Mdj I have this stone for my people? ' ' asked the hig man. The girl assented. The next day Barbara again went to the woods and standing in front of some nice cozv briars, said, Thank you, nice Briar Patch. I got 100 per cent in history today. A VISIT FROM THE U. S. S. DORSEY John Barry, ' 35 Last summer was the first time in the history of Scituate that a government destroyer has visited this small but historic town in Massachusetts Bay. Aboard this ship were more than one hundred men. There is a lot of talk about how bad sailors are, but from my own experience I can say that these boys aboard the Etorsey were as fine a group of gentlemen as I have ever met. Many people are misinformed about our navy todav. All the men in it have to have six months or a year of special training before they go aboard a ship. A man with a criminal record cannot even apply for entrance. The quarter-master of the ' ' Dorsey, Joe Lawrence, w as a former Scituate boy and last summer was the first time his uncle had seen him for sixteen years. Aboard this ship every night while it was in Scituate they had talking pictures, and an invitation was extended to the friends of the sailors. It was interesting to notice the courteous way the sailors treated the people that boarded the cruiser. Some interesting facts about a destroyer that we learned from first-hand information are that it costs fifteen hundred dollars a day to keep it in port; they use four hundred gallons ' of fresh water a day; and a destroyer averages about thirty-eight knots an hour. According to all reports the sailors enjoyed their stay in Scit- uate just as well as the people enjoyed entertaining them. To quote Tony, the radio operator, ' ' Scituate may be small but it sure knows how to treat guests.

Page 26 text:

24 THE CHIMES THAT ' S HISTORY Madeleine Bailey, ' 37 Barbara repeated it again — ' ' Civil War 1861-1865 — Civil War 1861-1865. Big-chief-not-afraid died at the batde of — oh dear! Was it (lettysburg or Bull Run? I never can remember! All of a sudden she threw her l)ooks on the table, noiselessly push- ed back her chair and stole swiftly out the back door. Dt)wn the old cart-path she ran and into the woods. It was one of those dreary damp days when home work is most discouraging, and Barbara had gone on a strike. She ran and ran saying over and over, ' T don ' t care whether Big- chief-not-afraid died at the battle of Gettysburg or not. Suddenly Barbara tripped over a twig and went headlong into one of New England ' s choicest briar patches, hitting her head on a stone as big as Bunker Hill Monument. For a few minutes Barbara lay where she was, stunned. Finally she sat up, blinked, and rubbed her head. ' hee ! What a spill. Oh, you awful stone !you ' ve made a bump as big as an egg on my forehead and — Say ! you do look like Bunker Hill Monument; don ' t you? And what funny writing and pic- tures on you ! Barbara pushed and tugged at the rock and when she had pushed it out into the path, she sat down on it to think. ' ' Pardon me. Miss said a voice, awakening Barbara from her thoughts. And Barbara turned quickly to find a perfectly huge man smiling kindly down at her. She finally swallowed her fright and said, G-good evening, sir. Wh-hat can I do for you? Fm from the Indian Reservation in Montana and I thought I would take a short cut from the station to the town hall wliere I must make a report, but as you see, I ' m lost. Oooh ! exclaimed Barbara, you ' re just the person Fm looking for ' cause you ' re an Indian ! Then she remembered that she was in her teens and so she stopped jumping up and down and said, If you please, sir, could you tell me what this stone says? It looks like the way the Indians used to write. Why surely, Miss, I will if I can. He studied it a moment or two and then exclaimed, Why this is very valuable. It is a tombstone and it says : —

Page 28 text:

26 THE CHIMES MAJESTY Dorothy Clapp, ' 35 He was a charger, ahnost tremendous of luiild, with a hiack coat faintly mottled in gray, which shone like polished glass in the sun. Evidently he h.ad been carefully dressed down by his owner, Stewart, for there was no dust on him, not a kink in his beautiful mane, nor a mark on his glossy hide. This fine horse served a cowboy down in El Cajon, Mexico, a beautiful country, with splendid land on which to raise horses and cattle. But Majesty was not raised in this little Mexican town on some lonely old ranch. Indeed not ! He was of desert breed. He could go days without water and live on surprisingly small clumps of dried desert grass if necessary. ' ' Come hyar, you, said Stewart. The horse dropped his head, snorted, and came obediently up. He was neither shy nor wild. He poked a friendly nose at Stewart and then looked at the pretty girl to whom Stewart was speaking. ' ' ' ould you like to ride him, miss? ' ' Yes, and very happy am I to be able to ride him. But how shall I ever get on him, Al? His shoulders are taller than I am. What a giant of a horse ! Oh, look at him — he ' s nosing my hand. I really believe he understood what T said. Al, did you ever see such a splendid head and such beautiful eyes? They are so dark and large and soft — and human. Oh, I am a fickle woman, for I am forgetting my AVhite Stockings ' ! Fll gamble he ' ll make you forget any other horse, said Alfred. You ' ll have to mount him from the porch. Madeline led the horse to and fro first and was delighted at his gentleness. He came to her call, followed her like a dog, and rub- bed his black muzzle against her. That afternoon when Al lifted her to the back of the big roan, she felt high in the air. We ' ll have a run out on the mesa, said her 1)rother, as he mount- ed a wiry little mustang. Keep a tight rein on him, and ease up when you want him to go faster. But don ' t yell in his ear unless you want me to see you disappear in the horizon. He trotted out of the yard, down by the corrals, to come out on the edge of a gray, open flat that stretched several miles to the slope of a mesa. Another girl accompanied Al and his sister. Aladeline stayed behind. The leading horses broke into a gallop. They want-