Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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8 THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. “H Cup of Chocolate.” lly BE A TRICE COLBURN. My invitation came (as did those of the other girls) in verbal form, being whispered hurriedly to me between bells “Pleased to see you in the ‘Grab Bag’ to-night, No. 47, at 11 o’clock sharp, and bring a spoon along. Mum's the word!” I was a “new” girl at the Seminary, and had not the slightest suspicion what the spoon had to do with it, or why my silence concerning the nocturnal visit was required. But then, you know, I was “green.” Now, as it all comes back to me, I laugh aloud at my own sweet innocence. Beatrix Dean, or “Trix,” as she was called at Bleakdale Seminary, was my ideal of a boarding-school rogue. She had short, black curls, parted boyishly in the middle, sparkling grey eyes (which could be so pleading and demure when occasion required), and cheeks just matching the knot of scarlet ribbon which often nestled coquettishly in her rumpled curls. I had been confidently informed that very day that I had better “get on the good side of Trix Dean,” because she was always having little surprises in her room and was “just the jolliest girl on beach.” Fortune favored me, for, upon ventur- ing to smile as Miss Dean passed in recitation, I was rewarded in this most unexpected manner. One may imagine how my lessons fared during the two study hours follow- ing dinner. Nora word of my German verbs could I remember. I would start out bravely: Ic i, liebe du libst, then— “Mum’s the word,” would echo through my ears, or “Eleven sharp, and bring a spoon along!” However, all things, good or bad, arc bound to have an end, and at length, upon the sound of the hall gong an- nouncing the close of study periods for the night, books were tossed to the floor, doors flew open and a general hub- bub ensued. I hurried at once in search of my new friend and found her perched upon the piano in the upper hall, sur- rounded by a group of girls. “Yes sir! well have a splendiferous time, but if you dare to let your doors squeak, or step on the wrong board I'll —well. I'll never invite you again, that’s just the whole amount; because the old “Cat’s” on duty and she’s positively aching to catch her mouse. Last night she and I had a little settling of ac- counts, and it’s my private opinion that she knows something is up. But what’s the odds? Let’s have a dance. Tilly, you can play that heavenly waltz. Oh! hello! Miss-er-what’s-your-name; glad to see you. Will you take a spin?” And I was caught unceremoniously in Trixy’s arms and whirled down the corridor. What a bewitching little madcap she was! I could hardly realize that she could be the same demure and ladylike girl whom I first saw conversing with the matron, Mrs. L., in the reception- room. But appearances are sometimes deceptive. At 10 another gong warned us that recreation was nearly over, leav- ing us two minutes to hurry to our rooms. The second bell found me seated on my bed breathless, panting and infinitely happy. Still, you know, there is never a rosy cloud without some sable streak to mar its perfection, and upon the cloud of my anticipation there was one spot— fear! What if I should step on the wrong board! Although Beatrix had artfully chalked the dangerous ones the footing of Bleaksdale Seminary was in- clined to be uncertain. How the moments dragged. As I had a second time been reminded about the spoon, I somewhat modified the sus- pense of waiting by unpacking my trunk, for of course that spoon was at the very bottom, stowed carefully away in the depths of my dancing slipper. I had no more than tossed the contents hack again before the town clock chimed 11, and to each of its strokes my heart gave an answering thump. Cautiously I opened my door and peered down the dimly lighted corridor. Hardly had I ventured to take a step when my neighbor’s door opened and a

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THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. 7 north to Monte Mario where the dark cypress trees are clearly outlined against the supreme blue of the sky. And as we gaze and gaze upon Rome, the wonder grows that this was once the proud mistress of the world and that it once had a population of 2,000,000. It covers so small a space to have so dominated the world. The most careless visitor is oppressed by the memories of history that crowd upon him as he stands here. Like a scroll unrolled that one may read, lie glimpses of grand and terrible events, scenes from the lives of men that are almost as vivid to day as they were hun- dreds and hundreds of years ago and all the glory and shame and pathos that lie in the history of Rome. Like a wide and yellow sea, the broad Campagna stretches away toward the south and lying in the delicious shim- mering haze are the noble aqueducts like huge serpents and the broken tombs that line the Appian road that leads to old Capua where Hannibal lingered too long. Nearer at hand rises the Capitol, the “Head” of Rome, where stood the great temple of Olympian Jove and where to-day there are splendid buildings, the work of Michael Angelo. Beyond is the Colosseum, magnificent in its iso- lation, the pride of ancient Rome. The palaces of the Caesars lie in stately ruin upon the Palatine Hill, afar upon the Quirinal is the palace of King Humbert and beautiful Queen Marghcr- ita ; we can see the pretty garden of the Pincio, where the “four hundred” of Rome enjoy a drive ; among the mass of grey roofs arise two circular ones that catch the eyes and that take our thoughts back, back, back to the Rome of old, when the city was splendid be- yond our conception of to-day. In one of these circular buildings all the gods held rites, for it is the Pan- theon, and through the great circular opening in the roof, the sunlight streams, the moonlight delicately steals and the rain falls with gentle splashes. Enshrined under that circling dome lie all that is mortal of the immortal Raph- ael and the brave good king of United Italy, Victor Emanuel, upon whose tomb are heaped memorial emblems. The other circular dome covers the tomb of the great Augustus—a tomb that is now empty and that has been used for a theatre, but still holding, in spite of all this, rich stores of historical memories. And just across the Tiber, not far away, near the site of Pompey’s senate house, is the Spada Palace, and we know that within is the colossal statue of Pompey, at the foot of which great Caesar fell, proudly drawing his robe be- fore his eyes that he might not see the faces of his murderers. We linger so long on the hill that when we come down into the city we find some of the narrow streets quite shadowy, for there is no lingering twi- light. And so darkness settles softly over the city, as the ages hid for so long her historic treasures, but the sun of knowledge shone upon her and brought to light the treasures of her past, and just so surely, we who love Rome feel that there are again glad days for her in the sunlight of United Italy. Mignon's Plea. From the German of Gcrtlic.] Know st thou the land where lemon blows ? Mid leaves of green there the orange glows. Soft breezes from the blue heavens fall On myrtie low and laurel tall. Know’st thou the land? Tis there! Tis there I’d go with thee. O my beloved one! Know’st thou the house with its pillars white, Its Hashing rooms and salon so bright ? Those statues now seem to say to me : ‘‘Poor child, pray what have they done to thee ? ’ Know’st thou the house? Tis there! 'Tis there I’d go with thee. O my protecting one! Know'st thou the mount with its sunless day? Mid clouds and mist the mule seeks his way. Old dragon broods in the caverns hide. The rocks leap down and o’er them the tide. Know’st thou the way? Tis there.' 'Tis there Our way doth lie ! O father, let us go! Lyman C. N i: vki.i..

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THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. 9 gaunt, white-clad figure stalked quickly and silently out, waving a ghostly hand for me to follow. I obeyed with a guilty thrill of pleas- ure. Before we had reached the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, we were joined by five others, and noise- lessly this select band crept along, finally pausing before the door of 47, whose card was out reading : WELCOME TO THE “GRAB BAG. In less time than it takes to relate, seven convulsive, giggling girls were huddled together on the bed, and seven pairs of inquisitive eyes were turned toward the trunk by the window, where towered a pyramid of crackers, a box of sardines and a row of empty, though imposing tumblers, cups, etc. On a pile of books, hovering over the gas jet, stood Trix, stirring something which emitted a faint and delicious odor. “ Chocolate! ” came in a whis- pered chorus, after a few emphatic sniffs. “Oh ! Trix, you’re a dove ! ” Sophy Moore bobbed up to kiss the tip of the “dove’s nose, when- horror upon horrors—over went the sauce pan upon the hostess’ head. I have read of martyrs, but until then I had never been fortunate enough to meet one, for not a sound escaped Trixey’s lips. There was a few moments hush, then as no dreaded teacher appeared, some one offered to rub the offended member. “Pshaw! Jessie Parkhurst, I guess I’m out of my swaddling clothes. If you want to make yourself useful in- stead of ornamental, just bring out the chocolate can and condensed milk, they're on the closet floor under my best jacket. But—if I should stop to relate all the thrilling incidents connected with that midnight feast, they would fill a book. Enough—that the second attempt at chocolate proved quite satisfactory. The girls vowed they had never tasted anything so exquisitely rich, the sar- dines abounded in oil, and as for the crackers—I dare not confess how many I ate. By my dreams—which alack ! came later—I should fancy the number to have been sufficient ! The words quoted by Trix at her chamber door, as she bade us good- night, still ring in my memory; and I can see that rumpled frowsled head peeping from the door of 47, as she glanced significantly at a certain door down the corridor: “ ’Oft when the cat’s asleep the mice do play !.’ At 1 o’clock seven sleepy, chocolate- besmeared mortals stumbled back to their rooms and resigned themselves to the tender care of Morpheus, who, I daresay, presented each with another cup of chocolate, for the sake of “Auld lang syne. Radiator Accounts Approved. This is to certify that we have exam- ined the accounts of Wm II. Burgess, Business Manager of S. II. S. Radi- ator, and having found them correct, do hereby declare them approved. This is to certify that we have exam- ined the accounts of S. S Thierry, Treasurer of the S. H. S. Radiator, and having found them correct do here- by declare them approved. Auditors, Roy K. Pierce, ) Warren J. Baldwin, ) Somerville, Oct. 12, 1897.