Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR but especially to know about her relatives. Iler Sliest told her he came from Boston. “And where was Boston? Near Chicago or Toronto?” She had heard of these two places, but never knew there was a city named Boston. Of course, it was not very far from the places familiar to her, as our friend answered the good woman’s questions; for he had met people before in the country districts who knew of cities in the L'nited States only New York and Chicago. The woman would accept but a most meagre sum as pay for her food; ami the way in which she served it could not be paid for. but only treasured as a pleasant memory. At parting she gave our friend a little bag of candy out of her store, and was so interested to see how he carried his clothes when cycling, she came out to the road to examine his wheel. And, as he rode off. she stood watch- ing and waving her hand till he was out of sight at the next descent in the road. Recollecting, then, our impressions of several European countries, we know of none the memo- ries of which are pleasanter than those of Scotland. The people speak a language that can be generally understood, at least in the cities; and, however de- sirous an American may be to learn a foreign tongue, he always welcomes the sound of an Eng- lishman’s voice: and especially so when he has not heard it except from his traveling companions for davs at a time. But, best of all. the inhabitants of Bonnie Scotland are in character very honest— a thing that cannot always be said of Europeans on the continent: and all the members of our party learned from experiences similar to that of our friend that they were exceedingly open-hearted and hospitable. ONE ROMANCE OF CORPORAL O’SHEA. Laurence T. Cain, L.f '02. ORPORAL O’SHEA lay groaning in his narrow cot. It was not that he felt any great pain. O, no, the cor- poral would never groan for that. It was because lie had to lie there with- out moving, while his comrades were all off on the trail. There had been exciting times at Fort Rodney for the last fortnight. Every day brought fresh rumors that the Indians were planning another out- break. and warnings for the soldiers to be ready in case of an emergency. The men were all excited and eager for the fight, and foremost among them was Corporal Teddy O’Shea. Poor Teddy! Just when the crisis was approaching, lie was accidentally and dangerously shot bv a green recruit, and now the surgeon had given orders that he should not stir from his cot for a week, at least. Two days after the accident came the hurried call from Little Ring Ranch, which lay about thirty miles west of the fort. The messenger declared that the Indians in full war paint had surrounded the ranch, and were threatening to fire the whole place if they were not admitted. The occupants, seeing death on all sides, had de- cided to fight to the very last, and. if possible, to hold out until they could get relief from the fort. The cowboy who brought the message had suc- ceeded in getting by the Indians while they were holding a final council to decide the fate of the ranch. No time was to be lost. Every available man was ordered into the saddle, and at a swift gallop they set out for the beleaguered ranch. Nobody thought of Teddy O’Shea, not even the rifleman who had shot him. To be down at a time like this was agony to the broad-shouldered corporal. But then, he had one comfort. Miss Helen, the colonel’s daughter, was at home, and would per- haps come up and see him. Now. Teddy admired all pretty young ladies, but Miss Helen he fairly adored. No work was too menial to perform if she commanded it. Her very word was law. Teddy thought that he found favor in Miss Helen’s eyes, and lie felt very proud of the fact. Lieutenant Nevens. the gayest, happiest young sol- dier at the fort, came in for the lion’s share of at- tention. however, and when the corporal thought of the handsome brown face, the curly hair, and the ringing laugh, he sighed deeply, and muttered, Miss Helen was made for the likes of him, but O, I could die for her!” As his mind was running in this channel, the door suddenly opened, and a red face was poked into the room. Terrence O’Shea. cried the one at the door, what do you mane by being awake, whin the doctor tould ye to go to sleep? I’ll re- port ye for disobeying his orders, I will. Hush. Nora. I couldn’t sleep at all. Say, where is Miss Helen? Is it that willful girl you’re thinking of? Sure, I’m ashamed of vc, Terrence. But. by the way. she wanted to say ye this morning, but I wouldn’t let her. I says: “The doctor says Corporal O’Shea must have sleep,’ says I. ’and you musn’t wake him up.’ ” “O, Nora. groaned the corporal. I’ll never for- give you. Where is she now?

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR (i of attracting his attention. In due course of time our boatman appeared and ferried us across. Before setting out on our six-mile ride awheel to Loch Katrine, we visited Rob Roy's cave, more than a mile off the road. We found the walk a wearisome one, on a rough and narrow path, but a little side excursion that amply repaid our efforts. 'I he cave and the jagged rocks about it, tossed up helter skelter, and the outlook on Loch Lomond 300 or 100 feet below are sights seldom surpassed, and never forgotten. They inspired us with such a feeling that, the longer we looked, the less we thought of our weary walk, and seemed to feel new vigor. Retracing our steps to the place where we had left our wheels, we soon reached Loch Katrine, and boarded the Sir Walter Scott” for a forty-five- minute sail past landmarks made famous in the Lady of the Lake, as Ellen’s Isle and the Lady’s Rock. On the bicycles again, we rode twelve miles farther, and arrived at the town of Callander. Time, 9.30 p. m. Fitch dark by that time, we re- membered. in Boston, but in Scotland on a July evening it was only dusk. We did not have to think of finding a lodging place for the night till nine o’clock approached. The next morning we rode on fifteen miles farther to Stirling Castle, where we spent two or three hours in the middle of the dav: and in the afternoon continued on to Edinburgh, taking in the field of Bannockburn en route. We had traveled but two days on the bicycle: vet advantages of wheeling were in that short time found to equal, if not surpass, in some cases, the ad- vantages of traveling by train, and boat, and coach. We found the beauties of mountain, lake, and stream could be seen as well; for the roads fol- lowed in most places right beside the water, and were exceedingly good. In the 100 miles, more or less, that we rode between the rival Scotch cities, we found but one stretch of only five miles where the road was in poor condition ; and, for the greater part of the distance, we cycled along as easily as if on the Mvstic Lake boulevard. If there were no trains in a district, as cyclists, we could go wher- ever the coaches went. Side trips afoot could be taken in. as well, for the wheels could be left at any house along the way. If there were no roads in a certain region, as along the shore of Loch Katrine, bicycles could be carried on the steamer for a nomi- nal sum. But what if it rained? If it poured hard, we were obliged, of course, to stop; but all other tourists were at the mercy of the weather, too. If it only misted, we donned our rubber capes, made espe- ciallv for cvclists in Scotland, and rode on in com- fort for miles. What did we do about our luggage? Content with one outfit of outside clothing, we could carry on the heads of our bicycles in a con- venient bag all other necessary articles,—the whole not weighing over twelve pounds. But was not such a package a great inconvenience? It is true that when we met a head wind for several hours, the strain was greater: but there was one great ad- vantage in having a bundle over the fore wheel Xo one knows until he has tried it how much easier a bicvclc rides when the weight over the front wheel is more nearly like that over the rear. But was not Scotland very hilly? There were to be sure, manv braes”: yet we did not ride many days before we learned the good |)oints about hills. The great majority of them can. in fact, be ridden after the wheelman has become somewhat hardened to his daily exercise. Those that must be walked, we discovered, had their advantages, for they forced us to a change of exercise, in itself most beneficial. Bringing a new set of muscles into play seemed to rest the tired ones; moreover, every hill climbed meant a coast on the other side sooner or later. And the invigoration to the spirit that we received, as well as the rest to the body, counted for much when we met a descent on which we needed to pedal only one-quarter of a mile in a stretch of three miles. The country, then, we discovered could be seen from the wheel: and we were not long in finding out that we saw the people, too, and in their homes. An experience that befell one of our party when riding alone one day is especially typical as illus- trating the character of many of the Scotch country- folks. Our friend remembers the experience with the keenest pleasure. Acting on the recommendation of a friend, he wanted to take a short excursion up the Yarrow Water one afternoon, and then circle around to the main road again. The side trip proved unique both for scenery and lonesomeness (for a stretch of nearly five miles there was not a single house passed), and when he reached the main road about (• p. m.. he found that he had twenty miles farther to ride to the next town. He had already wheeled fifty miles, more than twenty since dinner. lie was growing hungry. After riding four more miles, lie spied (so he wrote home in a letter) at the top oi a hill ahead a small house, which he hoped might be a place for refreshments. Everywhere along the roads in Scotland are to be found what are called cyclists’ rests,” with aerated waters, etc., for sale. This house proved to be one. The good lady of the house was out front in her garden. She nodded assent to our friend’s inquiry as to whether he could get some bread and milk. He soon found himself seated at a little oblong table in a sitting room, with an open fire before him,—not at all un- comfortable. though in the middle of July. An old decrepit gentleman sat near by, stroking a lit- tle kitten on his lap, and watching a dog that lay- by his side. The good, whole-souled housekeeper waited on the tired and famished cyclist to all the bread and the sweetest milk he wanted, with plenty of preserves, lie ate and listened to the conversa- tion of the aged couple, understanding little that the man said, but most of what the woman said. He finally asked his hostess where she thought he hailed from. Imagine her pleasure when she knew he came from America! She had a son there, and was therefore interested with anything American.

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR Faith, she's gone and saddled the Major and gone for a ride, down to the river, 1 think she said. “Good heavens! exclaimed Teddy, raising him- self on his elbow, “you didn't let her go out at this time alone?” I did. then, replied Xora, “for 1 couldn't help myself. I told her mere was Injuns around, and she laughed, and said. ‘Why, Nora, there's no In- juns this side of Little Ring Ranch, and that's thirty miles away.' So she rode off. She said she'd he back in an hour to sec Mr. Teddy, mind ye.” The corporal’s face grew white as he listened. The idea of Indians catching Miss Helen was something too terrible to think of. It’s all non- sense. said he to himself. She'll be back in an hour, as she said, and then we’ll keep her in till the boys get back. That hour seemed days to Teddy, who lay watch- ing the hands of the clock as they slowly crept around to the hour. As it neared the time and Helen did not return, the corporal groaned. I can’t stand it any longer.” he cried, and sprang out of bed. In a moment he was in his uniform and had donned his heavy cavalry boots. He felt a sharp twitching in his wounded side, but he did not heed it. He took down his long pistols, loaded them, and slung them in his belt. Then painfully he descended the stairs to the kitchen. Xora was there, and so was the colonel’s wife, the latter gaz- ing with anxious eyes across the prairie. On catching sight of Teddy, she burst out sobbing, “O. corporal, what shall we do? What shall we do? O. if her father was only here! ‘ Tell the boys about it when they get hack, the corporal cried as he sprang toward the stable. He bridled his own nag, leaped on her back, and galloped toward the river. On the far side was a small wood, and Teddy knew this was Miss Helen’s favorite haunt. Reaching the stream, he forded it and mounted the opposite bank. His eyes rested on the ground, and. with an exclamation of joy. lie threw himself from his horse. There, indeed, were Miss Helen’s soft footprints, but what were those many other marks all along the bank? It needed but a glance from the corporal’s ex- perienced eve to answer that question. He wheeled his horse about, and at a swift gallop made for the mountains, a mile distant. It seemed to Teddy as though he was moving like a snail. Faster and faster he urged the mare. Finally he reached the base of the mountains. Here, between two shelv- ing ridges, a narrow pass was disclosed, which seemed perfectly familiar to the corporal, who dis- mounted from his horse and crept through on his hands and knees. Reaching the farther end, he cautiously looked forth. The scene that met his eyes would have dismayed even the boldest. There, tied to a tree stump, was Helen, her long hair fluttering in the wind, while about her danced a dozen half-drunken Apaches in full war paint. The coronal's mind was made up on the instant. He retreated to his horse and climbed on her back, ilis face was white, and he muttered, Good-by, Nancy, good-by. Save her for my sake, old girl, for my sake. The mare seemed to understand, and whinnied softly. Teddy rode to the opening of the pass, and then clapped spurs to the mare’s flanks. With a hound she sprang forward. They reached the end of the pass and dashed out into the clearing. W hen Helen saw the horse, she gave a glad cry. hut the Indians had time neither to think nor to act. In a Hash Teddy was off. had cut the thongs from the girl's wrists, placed her on the mare’s back, struck the faithful animal, and all was over. The Indians soon recovered from their stui or. and. with grunts and yells, came rushing up, but Corporal O’Shea stood there without flinching, with a pistol in each hand. “Come on, ye varmints, he cried, I’m ready for you.” ' When the soldiers from the fort arrived some hours later, they found all silent in the pass, and, on entering the clearing, they saw three motionless forms lying side bv side. Two were Apaches, shot straight through the brain ; the third was the form of Teddy O’Shea. Gentlv they lifted him and bore him hack to the fort. He was not dead, but the doctor, when he looked at him. shook his head in doubt. But the magnificent constitution of the corporal overcame all obstacles, and Teddy began to mend. His first visitors were Lieutenant Nevcns and Miss Helen. They came in hand in hand, but, on catching sight of Teddy’s poor, battered face, the girl rushed for- ward and seized the corporal’s hand. “O. Teddy.” she cried, “it’s all my fault. I low can I ever repay vou ? By making yourself happy, my girl. That’s the only way. Besides, it was nothing. It was nothing at all,” said Corporal O’Shea. Resolutions. Whereas, bv the divine will of God. our principal, Mr. Whitcomb, has been bereaved of his beloved father: and Whereas, we have learned with great sorrow of his affliction: be it therefore Resolved, that we tender to him our heartfelt sympathy in his great sorrow; and be it further Resolved, that a copy of the resolutions be sent to Mr. Whitcomb, and be also published in the High School Radiator. PERCY UNDERHILL, President Class ’02. BROOKS CROSBY, President Class ’03.