Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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8 THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR “letters to a jfresbman 1Rumber Qwc Dear Freshman: Believe me when I say that I wish I could have again the opportunity to begin high school which you are now having. But providentially it comes but once. I mean by that that if you make the most of your opportunity you will never regret it. If you do not, you will regret it just as I do now. And I suppose that is a part of Providence that we should learn by our mis- takes. What I mean by making the most of your op- portunity is this: You are entering school not only fresh in name, but in reputation. None of the teachers know you yet. so that in the first two years you will have the opportunity to make or mar a favorable impression with them, which is no mean consideration. It is needless to say that I marred mine, and have been fighting against a reputation for laziness for the past year. You have another opportunity which comes but once in the course. It is the chance to spread along equally and normally over the four years the work wliich is required to get you into college. Don’t do the way I did. I loafed the first two and a half years, and have spent the rest of the time repeating underclass courses and studying con- tinually. with the awful nightmare of approaching examinations ever hanging over me. And I wasn't the only fool. There were quite a few of us who sat up till twelve o'clock many a night, wish- ing we had again the chance to do our studying more gradually through the four years, as it was intended we should. But we thought we knew, and we had a good time, only to find that those who worked at first have the laugh on us now. Another point: I hope you take the various school interests thoroughly to heart, as well as the study part of it. The football season is now on. and our school has a good team. Don’t leave the support of the school activities to some one else, for if everybody did that nobody would have any interest. You’ll get a lot more out of your course if you support the various athletic, social, and literary enterprises which the schools offer. The Radiatou is a fine paper, but it will be better when all the underclassmen subscribe and try to write stories and class notes for it. 'Hie Debating Society, also, ought to interest you. If you are in the English School, join it. If in the Latin School, make it a point to attend the public debates. You'll be proud to see how well your schools do. Don't forget that they are yours. If you play any instrument except the har- monica. bring it along and try to make the school orchestra. If you’re good at it. vour chances for making it arc good; because not many have the inclination or industry to learn to play anything more than “Chopsticks” on the piano. Above all. be sure to attend your class meetings and join the Athletic Association. Don’t let a clique or a society run the elections. Take an in- terest and interest others. If they want you to run for any office, don’t shirk. You’re probably as good for the place as any one—perhaps better. Don’t be a “Don’t care. or I’ll never be Your friend, A Senior. 3first ITmpresstons of Cape Cob m Isabel m. TllUbcr, X., ’00 1C Ble steamer made its way up Provincetown harbor, I stepped to the rail to catch my first glimpse of the city. It looked as though it had serious intentions of falling into the bay, rising, as it did, from the very edge of the water. I didn’t have long, however, to speculate on the possibilities of such a calamity, for within ten minutes I was on the wharf. And what an uproar! Every kind of noise and cry, from “Carriage, lady, carriage! to Baggage transfer! greeted my ears, until I thought I had stumbled into a miniature Boston. I finally man- aged to get my dress-suit case away from an enter-

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THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR 7 Meanwhile the Japanese were approaching through the woods. For an instant the firing stopped. Then a noise like an approaching whirl- wind swept across the open. The waiting soldiers grasped their guns even more tightly, the officers walked slowly up and down the waiting line, speak- ing words of encouragement to the men. A frightened rabbit sprang from the woods and scur- ried through the line. Then a fox and more rab- bits; the wild creatures of the woods were fleeing before the approaching storm. Xow the trees and bushes began to sway as in a hurricane. Mere and there through the leaves could be seen the blue uniforms of Japan. “Load !” rang the command down the silent line. Aim!” A thousand rifles were leveled. And then, as the hordes of Japan burst from the forest with a wild cry of Banzai! the banner of the rising sun floating in the lead, the command. “Fire!” rang forth, and the roar of the rifles as they blazed out their rain of death awoke the echoes of the Marathon. For an instant the lines of Japan wavered, but. pressed by the hordes be- hind. they came on. Now the rifles commenced to blaze along their lines, and the Americans began to go down by the score. Step by step they were forced back, leaving the ground covered thick with dead and wounded. The color-bearer dashed for- ward and planted the stars and stripes between the lines, singing We'll rally ’round the flag, boys.” For an instant the lines re-formed, but it was im- possible for one regiment to hold back the thou- sands hurled upon it. and they were again forced backward, the men fighting desperately as they re- treated. The regiments along the line began has- tily to form for the flank attack, but they withered away before the leaden hail from the Japanese rifles. Captain Taylor raised himself on his elbow, his clenched teeth holding back the stream of blood. Near where he had fallen he saw the wireless set. Dragging himself out from underneath the body of tile Japanese soldier he had impaled with his sword, he crawled to the instruments. Many of the guys on the pole had been broken, but the antenna was still in serviceable condition. After several vain attempts, he finally got on his knees and reached for the key. Slowly and distinctly, though everv movement caused sharp pains to dart through his body, he sent: Japanese have at- tacked left Hank. Send help at once. Look out for the sunken road. Captain laylor, M. . S. C. At that moment he was seen by a Japanese sol- dier. itli a curse the yellow man sprang for- ward and ran him through and through with his bayonet, but it was too late,—the message had been sent. Outside the headquarters' tent the general paced anxiously up and down. Near by stood the waiting regiments of reserves, the trains ready for an immediate start, yet no message came. The operator of the wireless station listened, but no sound came to him. Suddenly, so faintly that he could hardly read it. came the message:— “Japanese have attacked left flank. Send help at once. Look out for the sunken road. “Captain Taylor, M. V. S. C. With a yell lie dropped Ins receivers and sprang with the message towards the general. Quickly tiie troops filed into the waiting trains, and with a cheer started for the firing line. Far off in the fighting line the boys in khaki store! shoulder to shoulder with fixed bayonets, fac- ing the yellow devils from Japan. They were not in the shelter of the woods now, but out on the open plain. They knew what was coming. The Japa- nese had massed their men for the final charge. With blowing bugles and wild cries of “Banzai! they came on. Not a man in that thin, brown line wavered. The front of the advancing horde met it only to reel back, broken and disordered. Again they came on. and again they reeled back- ward. For a third time they came.—thousands and thousands of them. The brown line, weak- ened by the previous charges, began to Waver and break in places, when suddenly from their rear came the glorious notes of the bugle. To those that were left to see, the sight will never be for- gotten. Up a slight rise, on the double quick, with the setting sun gleaming on their shining bayonets, came rank after rank of Yankee volunteers. The light from the crimson west shone on the waving banners as they floated above the moving lines. For an instant the men of Japan tried to with- stand the furious charge they received, but it was impossible, and they were forced back over the ground which they had won. back into the forest, back across the clearing where the men of the wireless corps had died, back to the shelter of their entrenchments and frowning batteries. Captain Taylor was found with his dead hand still clutching the key. A week later in the East- ern newspapers his name was among those re- ported as dead. But how he died, how his mes- sage won the day, the world never knew.

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THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR 9 prising youngster, who thought he was going to earn a quarter, and started up the wharf. When I got to the head of it, the outlook was not en- couraging. There was just one street. On one hand a gentleman was assuring strangers that the best shore dinner could be had on the right, while on the other hand another gentleman was just as positive that we should go to the left. I did neither. Instead. I got into a carriage and took a drive through the town. I was calmly enjoying the quaint little city, when the carriage came to a sudden stop. The reason? Oh. simply we had met another carriage, and the question arose as to who should back into the broader part of the road. It was finally decided that we should turn around and go back over our course. Inside of fifteen minutes I was in a train and on my way up the peninsula. 1 pushed uo the cur- tain and looked out. Sand, sand. sand, and then some more sand, just for novelty's sake. Was there ever such a country? Add to barren reaches of sand an August sun. and ask yourself what beauty there could be in such a scene. Gradually the outlook changed. Here and there patches of grass appeared and stunted pines struggled sturdily for existence. I v the time 1 reached North Truro the aspect of the country was quite changed, and I took courage. As I plunged down a steep hill from the station in a strong country carriage. I looked with interest on the little village. Just one street wound to the north. hite farmhouses snuggled down among eld apple trees, and the village church looked across the street almost into the face of the squat little post-office. Then the well-kept lawns gave way to hay fields, which stretched away, swaying gently in the sun. The sandy road began to wind up and down over hills pretty to look upon, but oh. how trying to the pedestrian! The farmhouses came less and less frequently, and lo! we were away from the village and out in the open country, an undulating, dazzling combination of greens and yellows well calculated to win the heart T f the visitor. That evening I started out from the farmhouse where I was visiting, towards the beach. It was hidden from my view by a high hill, but when one reached the top what a sight greeted the eyes! The water of the bay stretches oft toward the horizon, guarded only by the protecting arm of the cape. Toward the west the sun was just sink- ing behind the little glistening city of Province- town. And as old Sol sank to rest. I turned away, well satisfied that such a scene should end my first day on Cape Cod. It jfisbtng Crip tit Jfoggv JSy? C. JE. 1b. tTClcatbcr HERE'S nothing the matter with the weather. W hy don’t you go fishing now? I’ll go with you. said Mr. Morrill, on entering the woodshed where Harold Atwood and I were sitting early one afternoon on a cold, cloudy day of last July. I was spending my va- cation in one of the outermost towns of Cape C od, Harold was passing a fortnight with me, and Mr. Morrill was a summer visitor with whom I had gone fishing on several previous occasions. Such was his answer to our question as to when, in his opinion, the weather would allow us to go fishing and have some small hope of success. And why shouldn’t we go fishing? Here was an opportunity to give Harold some new experi- ence, for as vet we had been unable to enjoy even that sport on account of continual disagreeable weather. Besides, my mother had remarked that morning that the house was nearly destitute of food, for. like many other small summer resorts, the question of knowing whence your next meal is coming was not one of the least puzzling. Then we were all ready to go. not even having to stop and get bait, because I had dug some on the pre- vious day. not knowing when we might need it. After considering everything to be gained by go- ing. we decided to go. W hile we were running about getting our oiled- skin coats, fishing tackle, and other necessities, my father, noticing our unusual activity, asked us what we were going to do. I told him. and invited him to join the party. Instead of responding, he looked displeased, walked to an easterly window, and stood looking out. while we impatiently awaited his reply. After a moment or so, he