Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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I SOMERVILLE HIGH he horse plods slowly and quietly, as though mindful of the silence, is unwilling to disturb it. The thud, thud of the horse’s hoofs grows fainter and fainter, and soon dies away altogether. Then the silence is felt again. Far away on the edge of the eastern horizon ap- pears a tiny red ball. This ball is slowly moving, and as it moves higher and higher in the heavens, it transforms the dusky, silvery clouds into colors of faint pink and red. The sky loses its grayness and changes to a light blue which gradually be- comes of a darker hue, and soon the whole firma- ment is flooded with the rosy colors of morning. The whole countryside seems to be waiting for the day that is to come. Everything is hushed; waiting, expectantly, hopefully, for the things this coming day will bring. There is a sort of pleasure in uncertainty. To some this day may bring grief and sorrow, to some joy and i leasure. Yet, they are all waiting to see what it will bring, and are preparing for it. Suddenly, there comes from the tree tops, the clear, sweet song of the robin. He is singing from the depths of his soul a cheery “Good morning” to the whole countryside, or perhaps he is singing to his mate in the nest, below, a sweet, tender love song. Perhaps he is telling the people to be happy and joyous, and think only of the bright side of life, and put away the cares and worries until to- morrow. From afar in the heavens, comes the dis- tant call of the crows, winging their way slowly SCHOOL RADIATOR to their nests in the tall tree tops. The sweet morning air stirs the leaves and grasses, and makes them sway to and fro. The swallows are twittering and chattering among the dusty cob- webbed beams of the barns, and signs of life are beginning everywhere throughout the country- side. From all the white, green-blinded houses, a thin gray wisp of smoke curls lazily up to soon van- ish in the air. Curtains are drawn aside, and windows opened to let in the cool, morning breeze. From afar comes the twinkle of the cow-bells, tell- ing of the returning of the herd to the pasture to browse in the green fields all the day. The horses are stamping in their stalls, eager to go out into the open and freedom. The barnyard fowl are strutting about the yard proudly, and the dogs are barking, just for the joy there is in living. The lambs frisk gaily about over the rough rocks and stubble fields, and the bees drone lazily over the bright colored flowers; darting here and there to some bright flower for honey. Morning has come! Over the variegated fields of wild flowers, over the deep, thick forest, and over the village, is the sun, riding across the heavens in his golden chariot, and sending his warm rays to the earth beneath. Up in the top- most branch of the maple tree sits the robin pouring forth in wild ecstasy, his cheery “Good morning” song to all those who wish to listen. Morning has come! HER FIRST DAY Alice Mixasian, 1921 I Under the Winged Victory, A little Freshie stands, The girl, a little child is she. With small and trembling hands, She thinks this is the biggest school In all the many lands. II Her hair is golden, long, and straight. Her face shows great unrest, Her cheeks are wet with anxious tears, She’s lost in the S. H. S., She looks distractedly about In hopes to find her quest. Ill At last a Senior dignified, Comes mincing carefully by; She glances at the poor lost child, And tells her not to cry; She shows her what she’s looking for— Then oil' the Freshman flies!

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR well for a while until, sad to relate, the old man became insane. He was placed in an asylum but the boys had little money, and that was soon spent, so the old man came home, not better, but worse for his sojourn in the asylum. He seemed wild. He played with knives and hatchets and at last, one night, attacked one of his boys with a saw. The boy awoke and called his brother and with his help imprisoned their father in the attic chamber. “The boys decided that the only safe thing for them to do was to imprison their father in a cage which they set about to build on the rear of the house. This plan was carried out, and soon after the old man died, partly from exposure and part- ly from grief. He was buried in the graveyard which I have mentioned as being further up the road. After this, it is said, the boys were driven from the house by the constant reappearance of their father’s ghost, carrying a saw. The boys have now passed away and the property belongs to the Government.” A half-witted country lad volunteered to show me, on the following day, the cage and the room where the ghost appears. I willingly consented to go. The room, I must say, still holds a rather ghastly appearance, and the cage is still stand- ing. “This will make an excellent subject for an English theme,” I remarked. “Would you like a ‘Ghost story’ better?” queried my country friend. “If you would, leave it to me.” Upon the assurance that I would, he told me to wait until spring and he’d have one for me. “Good!” I remarked, and we parted. The next day I left the “hotel” to go home and I have not seen my friend since. Nevertheless, I’ve heard his story. My uncle, who lives near him and who is a hunter during the fall, visited me last Christmas and told me the tale. It runs like this: “A city fellow, who thought he could hunt, was accompanied one day by my friend of the hotel, who acted as guide. They made an unsuccessf trip at the end of which my friend proposed a moonlight trip to the ‘Wildcat’ barn and there watch lor deer. It was agreed and they set out the following night at 10.30. On the way to the barn' my friend told him the story, not omitting the slightest awful detail, indeed, he added enough to make a fair-sized ghost story iilone. At last they reached the barn and climbing among the rafters selected a place on the roof which gave full view of both the graveyard and the house. “After waiting for a few minutes in the solemn stillness my friend thought he heard a deer and proceeded to instruct the hunter to wait until he should ‘scare ’im out’ and then take a pot shot. The boy then disappeared and the hunter thus left alone on a roof, near a haunted house with nothing but stillness abounding, began to think of the story of the insane man. ‘What if there were such things as ghosts?’ thought he. ‘What if they-------,’ he did not tinish, a deadly moan rose up from the graveyard and up rose a white spectre in the moonlight. He carried a saw and proceeded up the road, past the barn, into- the house, and now the hunter could see him in the attic chamber. “That was too much for the city chap who im- mediately jumped from his perch, landing safely on some hay which was stored in the barn, and ran headlong up the road, not looking to the left or right. He reached a sharp turn in the road and swerved. As he rounded the corner he col- lided squarely with—my uncle. They both were bowled over and arose covered with dust. They looked at each other in amazement and the city man was much relieved upon linding that he had not struck a ghost. They remained there a while and then the would-be hunter, thinking that an | excuse would be expected, began to tell the story. “He had not yet finished, when my friend was seen coining down the road with a gun and a suitcase, through the end of which protruded the ] corner of a sheet.” How the Country Wakes Up in the Morning Marjorie Fogg, 1919 VER on the western edge of the liori- zon, among the silver-lined clouds, the waning moon hangs. A few stars remain in the sky, but the have lost their crystal brightness, and shine drowsily down upon the sleeping world beneath. All is quiet and hushed. Except for the clear brook, deep in the green forest, gurgling merrily over the slippery, mossy stones, everything is still. The night wind has ceased and the leaves hangj motionless on the trees. Even the songbirds are| still asleep in their warm nests in the trees. | Everything seems asleep. Suddenly this silence is broken by the soft thurij of hoofs along the dusty road. It is a farinej with his wagon load of farm produce, intendiiL to sell it in tlie market of the neighboring citi

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 13 The Stolen Horse By Marion G. Gladdis, ’21 ALTER, I want you to bring down this recipe to Mrs. Smith.” The speaker was an elderly woman. Walter was an orphan and lived with his aunt. He was fifteen years old and was very mischievous, but lie was as honest as he was mischievous. ‘‘All right.” •‘Be sure to come right back.” “Yes’m,” and Walter went whistling down the path. He delivered the recipe and started to go home. As he went down the steps he was startled to see a figure sneaking toward the barn. Determined to find out the meaning of it, he crouched down behind some bushes, where lie could watch with- out being seen. After becoming accustomed to the darkness, he could watch the actions of the man more clearly. Suddenly the man turned, and Walter was surprised to find it was Mr. White, a man who lived in the town. Mr. White very carefully opened a window of the barn, which, through the carlessness of one of the hired men, had not been locked. As soon as Mr. White disappeared from sight, Walter jumped up and ran to the barn; he looked in the window. He was just in time to see Mr. White untie a horse from one of the stalls. He unlocked the door and led the horse out. He rode away into the night and then Walter went home, lie didn’t tell Mr. Smith because Mr. White had been kind to him. The next day he read in the paper how a Mr. Jones had been blamed for taking the horse, be- cause one of the hired men said that lie had seen Mr. Jones around there. He also said that as Mr. Jones was poor a horse would be very useful for he could sell it and get a lot of money for it. Everyone seemed to believe this, and so Mr. Jones was to have a trial in court. Walter didn’t know what to do, he was getting sick from worrying about it. He didn’t want to tell on Mr. White, and yet he didn’t want Mr. Jones to be blamed. His aunt noticing how pale he looked, asked what the matter was. But he said, “Nothing,” and walked away. He decided to go for a walk. Unconsciously he walked by Mr. Jones’ house, and just as lie was going by lie saw the sheriff coming out of the house. Walter walked up to him and said, “When is the trial for Mr. Jones to be held?” The sheriff said, “Tomorrow after- noon at 2 o’clock.” “Thank you,” answered Wal- ter and walked on. lie decided to go to the trial. The next day at 2 o’clock everyone appeared at the court room ; even Mr. White was present. The lawyers had almost proved Mr. Jones guilty when Walter got up and said, “Oh, Mr. Harlem (that was the judge’s name), I know who stole that horse. It was Mr. White, for I saw him!” Mr. White paled when he heard this and looked! to see if he could get away, but means of escape were cut off, and he was obliged to remain where he was. Walter got up and explained how he had seen Mr. White steal the horse and in so doing gained the good will of the community. Mr. White was then proved guilty being obliged to pay a heavy fine and also to pay for the horse for he had sold it. We are told “Man is fearfully and wonderfully made.” The favorite maxim of the Greeks was “Know thyself,” while the Romans placed the em- phasis on “Master thyself.” Here are a few facts from one of our exchanges relating to the human organism with which all should be familiar: Each ear has four bones. The body has about 500 muscles. The human skull contains thirty bones. The lower limbs contain thirty bones each. Each hair has two oil glands at its base. The globe of the eye is moved by six muscles. The wrist contains eight bones; the palms five; the fingers fourteen. The roots of the hair penetrate the skin about one-twelfth of an inch. Hair is very strong. A single hair will bear 1,150 grains. The enamel of the teeth contains over 05 per cent, calcareous matter. Straight hairs are nearly cylindrical; curly hairs are elliptical or flat. The weight of the average man is 140 pounds; of a woman, 115 pounds. The brain is supposed to contain ovef 200,000,- 000 cells, in which thought works out problems.— Exchange. “Well, my little man,” said the grocer kindly, do you want to buy candy today?” “You bet I do,” responded the urchin, “but T gotta buy soap.”—Exchange.