Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMKRVILLK HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 9 TWIXT GODS AND MAN. By M. M. B., L. H. S., '03. CTO HER FIRST is a date long to be remembered among the red-letter days of my life. How triumphant I felt as I reviewed the day! Had 1 received by card the mystic sign for excellent or good. or had 1 led the home basket ball team to victory? Xo. my wiser feelings told me to postpone the subject of school reports as long as possible, and as for basket ball, I had led the opponents to victory by a foul. Yet I was happy: very much so. in fact. I had kept a secret! Had I not heard. “A woman never can keep a secret ? Oh. the joy to feel that, as an exception. I had proved the rule. The next day I felt like a mighty conqueror, as I resisted all temptations to confide in my dearest HAD KEPT A SECRET.’’ friend. That night my room seemed filled with a hum and rustling. Was it my imagination, or did the hum really swell into a triumphant song? Yes. I became sure that some mysterious creatures were singing of my glory! Soon, from out the darkest corner, glided a figure. I did not scream because I recognized the features. It was Catiline. Al- though somewhat reassuring to know my visitor, yet I thought of his crimes and feared. Was he going to kill me? Nearer and nearer he came. and. at last, leaned over and scanned my face. My hair began to rise and stood on end. I suppose his breath caused it to do so. 1 lark ! he was speaking! “Would that mv comrades had been gifted with silence! Then, oh Cicero, you would never have been able to insult me in the senate! His words were followed by a groan, and then the conspirator walked back to the corner and dis- appeared. 1 was surprised to feel how hot and thirsty I was, but, of course, 1 was not frightened. (ireat was my relief, however, that my night’s sleep was not interrupted for several weeks. But at last a night came when, as I lay thinking of Cati- line. 1 heard a noise at the screen, and soon realized that there was another person in the room. He hardly seemed to touch the lloor. so lightly did he walk. I knew by his dress and features that he was no Roman. I looked more closely and beheld little wings on his cap. Those wings gave me the clue, and. after a keener glance. I fully recognized Mer- cury. the messenger of the gods. Oh. daughter of the human race, the favor of Jove has fallen upon you. The great father orders you to obey his commands. I shall come to lead you to his presence. Before I could ask any questions, he had with- drawn. I thought I heard some one at the win- dow call Pridie Kalendas. Now I understood that on that date he would come again. I»v the help of a Latin grammar. I found out that Pridie K alendas would probably mean October thirty- first. Impatiently I awaited the messenger’s return, but I heard nothing for a week. 1 was so excited that I could not get to sleep on Hallowe'en. Would he really come as he had said? What did Jupiter want of me? Soon I heard the same noise, and. looking around. 1 saw Mercury. He told me to throw a mantle about me and follow him. This I did, not daring to question him. After we climbed out of the window, he produced a pair of sandles with little wings on the heels. He stepped upon a moonbeam, and I tried to follow. I nearly fell, but bv his help I became more accustomed to the little steps, and progressed rapidly. After a while we came in sight of a great golden castle. We left the moonbeam, and seemed to flutter toward the building. When we came to the walls, the gates opened, and Mercury walked quickly into the court. I hur- ried after him, not daring to look either to the right or left. 'The majestic form of the king towered above all his courtiers, as he took his seat on the dazzling throne. I was surprised to see the people surround him and appear perfectly at home. Mer- cury explained that, on Hallowe’en night, the great king held a reception. There was no time for more conversation, for Jupiter addressed me. Arc you. oh being, so strong to resist tempta- tions, or did some goddess help you? I could not answer, try as I would. Would all my glory fade? Surely he would believe me guilty of some artifice if I did not answer. Once more I tried, but in vain. Yea, oh great and glorious majesty, king of us all. I have fully investigated, and have found that she has, unaided, kept a secret.”

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3 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR pass. The clever work of Clark was on every one’s lips, and many were the cheers that he received front the cheering section. In the second half, the sturdy orange-clad arms and legs had advanced the ball far into the home territory, and the hall was slowly moving toward that line of success. The thirty-yard line was passed, then the twenty, and at last the fifteen- yard line Hold ’em! Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” rings out from the main stand, and, encouraged by this, they make a determined stand on the ten-yard line, but, alas! the ball is pushed over for a touch- down. The orange banners wave for the first time. The ball is brought out for the try for goal from touch- down. The cheering is furious. The kick is care- fully directed by the captain, but it goes under the bar.. Score: 1 1 ue. ; orange, 5. Again the snappy yell of the blue rings across the field, and gray-haired professors fairly split their throats endeavoring to be loyal. With eight minutes to play, they kick off again to the giant fullback of the orange-clad team, who is soon downed. For five minutes they strive to gain through the line, but with little success. A few end plays give them five yards. The ball is in the centre of the field. Two minutes to play. The quarterback glances anxiously across the field to the side line. The coach is holding a handkerchief in his hand. This is the signal for the quarterback kick. ‘‘Play steady, boys,” commands the gritty little quarter. At this signal the quarter receives the bail and kicks it to one side. It lands fairly in the end’s arms, who tears down the field, followed by Phillips and the halfback. The little end hurdles the fullback. Phillips is gaining. Ye gods! who will win? Nearer and nearer, on, on speed the two contestants over the white marks, which seem to fiy by like so many birds. Phillips is certainly gaining. Will he overtake his opponent in time? Phillips sees the two posts which signalize victory for rival and defeat for himself, lie gives one des- perate leap, and straightens out in a beautiful dive tackle. His arms clutch the air desperately; they circle about the runner’s knees! Oh! how good it seems! Then all is blank. The whistle sounds the end of the game, with the ball on the three-yard line, and the score six to five, in favor of the blue. The crowd rushed on the field and carried the heroes around the field on their shoulders. In passing one of the tally-hos, Harry saw Miss Grace toss a bunch of violets to Clark, who in reality had won the game, but he himself had saved it. That night, as the team sat in the parlor of the hotel, smoking their favorite brands for the first time in weeks, the captain came up to Phillips, who sat near the fireplace, and said. What’s the matter. Harry? You don’t look like a fellow that had saved the day for his team.” Never mind. Ned,” said Phillips, “if I did save the day, I lost something dearer to me than that,” and he opened his watch and showed the picture of Miss Grace to his chief, and Ned understood. Two weeks later the stocky little quarterback was receiving congratulations, and Harry had promised to be best man. A FANCY. By A. F. L., L., '03. I saw a small cloud passing. As I lay on the mountain side, With a wild brook near by dashing To the sea, with its wondrous tide. I know not why I wondered At its shape, the face of a child, Not why I lay and pondered On that face so pure and mild. ’Tis childhood’s smile it weareth, Free from pain, or trouble, or care, There is nothing indeed it fcarcth, But hath trust so pure, so rare. 1 watched it passing o’er me. With its changing smile, most sweet, Obscured by a towering pine tree; Now again its smile I meet. Changing, yet ever smiling, On its way o’er that vast blue dome, With a calm sweetness beguiling, Far above the great ocean’s foam. Now from mv sight ’tis hidden, Far over the mountain height, To follow it I am forbidden By a valley, a river, and night. But in thought I can ever follow In its wake through the pathless sky; Though the world be small and hollow, ’Tis a memory I’ll have for aye.

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10 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR A murmur of applause rolled through the court, and 1 felt my record was clear. Overcoming my pride. I kept my head bowed in an humble position. “Rise! It is given you to choose some gift. Choose wisely, and your desire shall be granted; otherwise, perhaps Death shall reward your foolish pride.” Lull of joy, I raised my head to show my grati- tude. and then bowed it again. What should I wish for? A hat, a Yale vs. Harvard ticket, or an automobile? Nay. I had it! A rush of memories of sleepless nights, of headaches and heartaches came over me, as I thought of my story due the Radiator. Oh. worthy king, if I might express my wish, I would for the power to write a story. What could that murmur mean? It had no ap- plauding ring, but why not? Mad I not chosen wisely? Child of earth, great has been your mistake. Had you been intended for an author, the gift would have been bestowed long ago. Authors, like poets, are born, not made. Rut let these authors, some of whose works arc good, others bad, decide your fate.” He pointed to his left, and there among a great number I saw Shakespeare. He stepped out from the rest, and immediately three old women came toward him. As he whispered to them, the glance which they gave me awakened a great fear in me. Again they glided away, murmuring as they went:— Trouble, trouble, come and double. Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” Then Shakespeare spoke to his companions, but so low that I could not understand him. His audi- ence seemed pleased, and all said, Yea. vca.” He continued, and I heard:— if it were done, when it were done, Then it were well if it were done quickly.” Shakespeare turned to Jupiter and addressed him. ■ lie king looked at me very sternly, and said:— “Oh, feeble soul, your doom has been decided. You must drink from the witches’ cup. They alone know the result.” A cold, damp feeling came over me. I felt my last moment had come when I saw the witches re- turning. So cold and fearful had I become that I did not notice that any one was speaking. For the first time 1 listened:— I never believed, as I state in my essay on Addi- son. in harshly criticising women authors, and now I would plead for this child. She is de- ceived bv the false glitter, and is too young to be allowed the privilege of choosing a gift. That she kept a secret. 1 believe, was a mere accident; but keep it she did. Therefore, I say, allow her to re- turn to earth a sadder, but wiser, girl.” A silence fell o er the assembly, but at last Jupiter said:— Macaulay’s plea has attained its object. Be- gone. before our minds arc changed. You arc free.” One of the witches dropped the cup, and. as Mer- cury hurried me away, she screamed:— You’ll never write a story!” The crash of the cup seemed to double and triple as it echoed through the court. I turned to Mer- cury to ask if the prophecy was irrevocable, but, instead of seeing the messenger of the gods, I be- held the mighty column of books from whose depths I had been imbibing knowledge fallen in chaos on the floor by my bed. THE MAN OF RED AND BLUE. By J. G. H„ S. L. S., '03. With his myriad host of satellites. Admiring friends and chums, The greatest of our “shining lights,” The gridiron warrior comes, With hair a-clot with mud and gore, With a broken bone or two. With nose in pieces three or four, And eyes of black and blue. He’s lacking much of sanity. And a yard or so of skin. His cars arc sought with vanity On the field by happy kin. He’s the idol of society. The deity of youth, Emblematic of propriety, A Chesterfield, in truth ! The golfer lays his sticks aside To grace the conqueror’s march, Equestrians no longer ride In pomp and generous starch. The tennis crack is on the shelf, The yachtsman,—on the beach, The mobilist can prove himself To be quite out of reach. The cyclist rides in solitude, The sprinter sprints in vain, The baseball player’s “somewhat crude,” And has an addled brain.” But the footballist is just the thing, So full of force and vim. Of all great fav’rites, he’s the king, V hen will his sun grow dim? I-Ie’s the pet of femininity, And, girls, it’s up to you To support your new “affinity,” The Man of Red and Blue.