Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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and corn, while on the floor wore piles of pumpkins and squash. As he put his pack down, he noticed, through a crack in the floor- ing, a gleam of light from the room beneath. With natural curiosity, he stooped down and placed his eye to the chink in the rough boards, and saw the group of men below, with their heads together in whispered conversa- tion. Catching a phrase here and there, his suspicions were soon thoroughly aroused, and he instantly changed li is plan of retiring. First, stripping a blanket from the bed, lie emptied the contents of his pack into it, and after tieing the bundle loosely, pushed it un- der the bed. Then he refilled the empty pack from a pile of vegetables, and deposited it carefully at the foot of the bed. Next, he tied his nightcap onto a pumpkin and placed it on his pillow, and built up the bed clothing to resemble a human figure, with the pump- kin as a head. Having completed his prepara- tions, he concealed himself under the bed. In a few minutes the pedler was snoring loudly, feeling assured that there were listen- ers downstairs. lie had not long to wait, for presently he heard stealthy footsteps and then his door was softly opened. Suddenly, a club descended on the pumpkin head with a sicken- ing thud. Someone stumbled over the pack, at the foot of the bed, snatched it up, and in an instant the would-be murderers and thieve? were gone. A few minutes later the weary pedler crawled carefully from beneath the bed and silently put on his coat and cap. With a few deft motions he tied securely the comers of the blanket holding his valuables, and after softly open- ing the window, he passed the bulky bundle over the sill, then dropped it to the ground. An instant later he, himself, was standing on the ground near his pack. Shouldering the unwieldy burden, he again plodded on his wea ry way, deprived of his night ' s rest, but safe, and a wiser man for his experience. LAWEENCE MART7N, ' 24. MODERN DAYS AND MODERN WAYS Peg came home from High School in high spirits. Opening the door and calling, Mumsy, I ' m home! she flung down her books, and without removing her sport coat, sank into the best velvet chair. Her mother, placing the stockings which she was darning for her daughter on the table, came downstairs. Upon seeing Peg sprawled in the best chair, she gently said, How many limes, dear, must mother tell you not to loll in that chair with your street -clothes on? Tin re are other chairs in the house. 1 know, responded Peg, but 1 like this one best, so I want to sit in this one, see? There was silence. Oh, 1 forgot to tell you, I ' m going to the dance tomorrow night. Can I have a new dress? I ' ve worn that green one twice, and 1 don ' t like my blue one. But, my dear, you got your blue one only last week. You can ' t have another, yet. Well, 1 will have another; all the girls are having new ones ; I-I never g-get any-any- thing I want, cried this impetuous child. We ' ll see later, was the mother ' s reply, as she returned to her darning with a troubled mind. What a problem Peggy is getting to be. Why! wu children never dreamed of an- swering back our mothers as the boys and girls do, now-a-days. Well, I suppose it can ' t be helped! The next night found Peg at the dance, .Mid with a new dress, flirting, and attracting attention on all sides. The matrons, for there were matrons, sighed and shook their heads, as Peg jazzed by. What will that girl come to? Why, she isn ' t dancing, just running wildly about this hall with her partner! What can they be doing now; they ' re standing perfectly still. I ' m sure I don ' t understand this new danc- ing, either. When I was a girl, we were content to dance slowly, arm in arm, but now they are not happy unless they are cheek-to- cheek, racing like mad dogs. I think it ' s dis- graceful ! Thus the comments went on, but Peg, all unconscious, danced merrily on. At one o ' clock she arrived home in her partner ' s automobile. Mumsy, trying hard in keep awake, asked her daughter what had de- tained her. ' Oh, we just went for a little ride, that ' s all! And thus the younger generation goes on, while the older stands by and wisely shakes its head. GLADYS DAGNINO, ' 24. CROSSROADS The train pulled into the station. 1 Looked at my directions. Yes, t his was the town. I climbed down the stops and stooil on the plat form in front of the little station. The loose jointed train slowly got itself in mo tion and disappeared down the track. I was left .-ill alone on the platform.

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when suddenly were heard the creaking of coach-wheels, the labored breathing of horses, and the voices of coachmen. One coach, then another, a third, a fourth; who were these people coming at so late an hour? The country, at that time, was not densely populated. Very often houses were many miles apart. Wealthy people owned great es- tates, which they used in the summer, these, to- ward spring ' , were opened for the usual prep- aration for the occupants, and the keys en- trusted to trustworthy servants. The travellers continued on their journey. The wearied horses pulled and stumbled along the rough road. Upon turning a slight bend in the road, a large house loomed up in front of them. It was the Vestan-O, one of the largest ami finest estates, for many miles around. The horses turned up the driveway, swung around towards the back of the house, and stopped before a large iron door. A coachman jumped from his seat, and opened the door of the coach. One man stepped out, followed by others. Each wore a dark suit, a long black cape, and a cap. They quickly moved over towards the iron door, and waited in a group. Not a word had been spoken. The second coach came up. More men joined the group. In a few minutes came the third and fourth coaches, all carrying men of the same description. At last the party at the door was complete. A tall man, evident ly the leader, stepped up to the door, and gave three taps in quick succession. The door swung slowly open. One after another the men passed through, and the door closed, in the same fashion, behind them. Within, all was absolute darkness. The air was damp and cold, as in a cell, and an involuntary shiver passed through each man. A small light flickered, and came nearer and nearer. A servant brought a small tallow candle, and with this light, they proceeded on their way. It was indeed like a cell, this passage through which they were going. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all of stone. At the end of the passage, which was about fifty yards long, was a small trap door. This, also, as the gate, was of iron. It opened from the bottom and was not more than four feet in height. As the men reached it, they stopped. The. door was lifted and each man, crouching down, stepped into a long narrow tunnell, which extended from it. The last man extinguished the candle, and, followed his companions into the tunnel. Half an hour later, the same party of. men suddenly appeared in a park, one mile and a half distant from Vestan-O. They hurried stealthily for about fifteen minutes, keeping in the shadows of trees as much as possible. Each man was silent, busy with his own thoughts. Their course led to another large estate. This time a small light shot out a welcoming beam. This light shone from a window on the ground story. The men quickly entered, and presently on the drawn shade were seen their silhouettes. They drew up chairs around a small table; the leader arose and addressed them; then others spoke; arguments seemed to arise; — the meeting of the Caps was on! Two weeks later, the king was assassinated at a masquerade. BERTHA VIK, ' 24. AT REID ' S TAVERN The short winter afternoon was drawing swiftly to a close; an icy wind drove through the trees with an eerie shriek, chilling to the bone a weary pedler who was trudging along, bent down under the weight of an enormous pack. The road, 0110 of the few in that part of Ohio, in the year of 1843, followed the wind- ing shore of Lake Erie. Ahead of the trav- eler, glimmering in the fast gathering dusk, were the lights of Reid ' s Tavern. To a stranger the house might have radiated warmth and comfort, but the belated pedler approached it with a feeling of distrust. How- ever, his immediate need of food and shelter overcame his misgivings. Upon entering the tavern, the traveler was attracted at once by a cheerful blaze, snap- ping and crackling in the huge fireplace. After laying down his pack and removing his outer garments, he warmed himself at the fire, and then sat down to a steaming supper. Feeling refreshed after his hot meal, his at- tention was drawn to a group of men, at the other side of the room, who were intently re- garding his pack. Immediately he recollected all of the unsavoury tales he had heard con- cerning this inn. Exhausted and not caring for the companionship of these men, he re quested a, candle from the landlord and retired to his room. Setting his candle down upon a small table, he gazed about the room. It seemed to be a storage- room for vegetables for winter use. From the rafters hung strings of dried apples

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I again looked at my directions. They said, Go down Baldpate road until you come to the crossroads. Down Baldpate road I walked, dragging niy heavy suitcase after me. The sun beat down on the dusty, country road and on me. There was not a living thing in sight. Finally, I reached the crossroads. I put my suitcase down and again consulted my directions. They said, Take the road to the right, but three roads intersected, and there were two that went to 1 the right. One was a main thoroughfare. Automobiles were flashing by me continually. There were no shade trees, and the dust arose with every vehicle that passed. The other road appeared to be little fre- quented. There was just room enough for one carriage to pass along. Great trees hung over the road and formed a canopy. I heard the whispering of the brook and the distant call of birds. It was a most inviting road for a weary, hot traveller. I decided to try the pleasant road. I walked slowly down it, enjoying the beauty and quietness. A red bird flashed among the trees. A squirrel ran out into the road in front of me. On one side a beautiful hill arose, and on the other was a pine grove, which gave off a delightful woodsy smell. Soon I began to see signs that told me I was coming near a house. A cow grazed in a pasture and the fields were enclosed by stone walls. The sweet smell of fresh cut hay greeted me and an orchard came into view as I roundedi a bend in the road. Then I saw what I had been looking for, a red gate, and a moment later a white house set far back from the road. A woman whom I knew to be grandmother was on the porch. I had taken the right road and arrived safely at Red Gate Farm. DOROTHY YOUNG, ' 23. IN THE SWAMP Have you ever been in a swamp? If so, did you think of the beauty of it ? In a swamp, all the water is not stagnant nor muddy, for one comes across a little pool that is very clear. In the fall this has many leaves on the surface of it. These bright-colored boats do not clutter up the pool, but add charm and beauty to it. As a result of some storm, many of the trees are broken, many bent. But, as sternness and rigidity abounds where all the trees are straight and upright, these bent and broken trees are useful in taking away this feeling. To make a forest look graceful and yet give the impression of strength, both drooping and straight trees are necessary. As you stand amidst a small cluster of trees, you see beautiful things of a smaller nature. There is a root of a tree, covered with moss; there is a small stone also covered with moss; here is an old fallen tree that has vines climbing over and covering it; farther over is a large stone, out of the crevices of which small plants that are yet green are growing. As you survey all these smaller things, you begin to think that slush, slime, oozy bunches of swamp grass, broken trees, and dead leaves, logs and twigs, are not all there are to be seen in a swamp. Besides these things, there is life moving all around you. There are the noisy jays, the chickadees, the sparrows, the swallows, and about all the other birds that belong in our climate. Not only the birds are here, but also the animals. Beyond the edge of the swamp, one sees an occasional rabbit scamper, or hears a field mouse squeak. In the swamp, are tho holes made by the water animals. Is (here anything so beautiful as the life and evidences of the life of the lower animals™ Added to this is the Sabbath stillness of the swamp. There is none of the hustle and bustle of the cities. With the loss of the city noises, all business, sorrow, grief is forgotten. All the joy and gladness of life is intensified. One feels a new; joy in living, if one can see and appreciate the beauty and life of nature in the swamp. BERNICE BAZLEY, ' 24. THE SEA Yes, I am the sea, both hated and beloved. Many a sunrise has brightened my surface, making me beautiful and alluring. Many an artist lias painted my reflected colors. Many a moon has cast its silvery path across my bosom as, with a sullen but soothing roar, I roll my waves upon the shores. At these times, men like me, they sail upon my surface in their gorgeous ships and feel secure, think- ing they are my masters. Yet, many a storm has swept over me, blot- ting out this tranquility. Amid roars of thunder and flashes of lightning, I rise in huge, dark mountains of water and dash against the shores with untold strength. Then men hate and fear me. I laugh at their ships. I strike them, sink them, drive them to the