Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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PRINCIPAL CHARLES IT. HOWE

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TA5LE OF C0NT6NTS COVER DESIGN THE HEART OF A BOY PRINCIPAL CHARLES H. HOWE AN EMIGRANT ' S DEPARTURE THE WOODS DURING A STORM FOOD ADULTERATION TO THE CLASS OF 1919 WAKEFIELD, THE BEST TOWN- WHY? MANAGING A HIGH SCHOOL PAPER MY FIRST SCHOOL DAY IN LONG TROUSERS THE COMMERCIAL DEPARTMENT THE IDEAL OFFICE ASSISTANT EDITORIALS THE AMERICAN MERCHANT MARINE THE PARENT-TEACHERS ' MEETING HONOR PARTS Gladys Watkins, Barbara Randall, Thelma Bridge Paul K. Guillow Millard W. Thresher Elizabeth F. Ingram Jerry J. Buckley Eliot Zwicker Ernest E. Fairbanks Charles H. Howe Harold Moncrieff M. W. Thresher L. C S. Marion Kennedy M. E. Keefe George Butterfield ATHLETICS TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE MAST THE HIGH SCHOOL BATTALION A CHANGE OF DIRECTION THE LAND OF ANNE OF GREEN GABLES THE BOYS ' DEBATING CLUB THE GIRLS ' DEBATING SOCIETY THE GIRLS ' GLEE CLUB DEPARTMENT OF GRAMMAR SCHOOLS THE ORIGIN OF THE SAHARA DESERT AN UNWELCOME VISITOR THE NEED OF BIRLS A NEW VERSION OF MOTHER GOOSE ROBIN IN SPRING THE LEGION OF THE DEAD EXCHANGES Manson Dillaway Major Ralph E. Belmore Louise Whitten Dora McKie Jerry J. Buckley Hazel E. Barstow Thelma Bridge Ida M. Low John W. Sands Isabelle Goldberg Josephine F. Stoddard Miriam Crosby Alec Williams Norman B. Kingston

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ilri! ii. PU5LISH60 5y THE STUOeNTS OF THe WAK6FI6L0 HIGH SCHOOL : : VOL. 8 VVAKKFIKLD, MA.SS., JUNK, 1915 X(.. -2 AN E V IGRANT ' S DEPARTURE I T was about four o ' clock in the afternoon when we reached Queenstown, and after a light luncheon at the hotel, I took a walk around the town. I visited the famous cathedral on the hill and then sought the seashore. Here I remained for almost an hour, watching the tide as it crept slowly up on the sands. I finally returned to the hotel and retired early as the landlady informed her guests that emigrants usually left for the tender early. The bed in which I slept was none too comfortable, and as my mind was excited with the prospects of the voyage, it was long past midnight ere I fell asleep. I was awakened suddenly by loud knocking on the door. The gray light of dawn stole through the cur- tained windows, and in a moment I realized that the Jay of departure had arrived. After dressing hurriedly, I ate a light breakfast and started for the wharf. Here was the usual hurry and bustle, hand shaking and fare- wells, tears and laughter. Two small steamers lay ready to take the passengers to the liner, which lay far out near the entrance to the harbor. It was a beautiful morning; the sunlight si)arkled on the waters and a light morning breeze blew in from the broad ocean. I stood in the bow of the tender, watching with interest the various sights of the harbor. Suddenly the tender changed its course and before me, as if it had sprung up from the depths, lay the Arabic at anchor. We passed close by it and beheld the Republic anchored half a mile away. As we drew near the gigantic liner, I beheld a num- ber of fruit venders circling about the ship in row boats. One can imagine my amazement, however, when I saw a large basket lowered by a rope from the deck of the liner and an intrepid old woman, loaded with fruit, get in to be hoisted aboard. The change from the tender to the liner was (juickly made, each passenger being separately examined by the ship doctor, who glanced at the interior of the eyelids of each emigrant. This being over, each person was assigned a bunk, and final preparations for departure were made by the crew. 1 was just about to start on a trip of exploration when I realized the vessel was in motion. Coming on deck, I saw we were already near the outskirts of the harbor. I remained on deck all the afternoon, watching the seagulls that screamed about the stern of the ship. We were now running along the south shore of Ireland and I feasted my eyes for the first time on the marvellous scenery of the Kerry shore. In the west the sun was sinking low and the first faint fiush of scarlet deepened into the purple of the evening sky. Far away lay the Kerry hills, fading into the deep shades of night, while across the silent sea the scented evening breezes wafted the sound of the breakers whose lingering echo was our last farewell. JkKUV J. lUcKLKV. THe WOODS DURING A STOR M Tin Ell E is nothing, to my mind, that can com- l»are with the solemn grandeur of the (ireat Woods during a storm. Once when I was tramping in the Maine Woods, I suddenly became aware of an oi)pressive stillness, brokcTi only by the twittering of some fright- ened bird. Upon glancing up, I noticed a great bank of clouds, shutting off the light of the sun, which was even then sinking in the west. Hastily looking for shelter, I found a sort of cave in a hillside. After seating myself therein, I awaited the war of the ele- ments. On came the clouds, ])iling themselves one upon the other in a wild confusion. It seemed as though they were in a hurry to work their destruction upon the