Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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THE MIDNIGHT MARAUDER A True Story Tlie room was terrible in its darkness and tlie air intensely sulphurous. The stillne;;.s was so great that I could almost hear it. I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep. But my mind was working actively and my thoughts would not be still. All the events of the day tumbled around in my brain. One of tliose events was the narrow escape that I li.id had in that automobile accident. I was reviewing rather haphazardly thij thrilling experience when I heard the clock s.trike bang! bans;! I counted the st rokes, twelve o ' clock! That dreadful mysterious hou ' - when ghosts leave their graves to haunt the living, and bold marauders leave their laii-s to venture forth into tlieir victim ' s houses. A shiver ran down my spine. I tossed and turned and tried to sleep, but sleep evaded m . Cautiously I opened my eyes and glanced around the room, half fearing that I might see a liold robber al)OUt to pounce upon me with his murderous black-jack. Not seeing anj-- tliing alaiining, I tried to comi)ose myself but my fears had only begun. In the awful solitude of night, I thought I hoaid a soft stop on tlie stairway. There It was again — and again — and again! A soft steady tread coming nearer, nearer! I lav still with my ears fixed in,teutly on that tread. It gi ' ew a little louder and then louder, until it stojjped outside my door. What was that noise? Mv door was slowly opening. The cold sweat stood out in great beads on my fore- head. My breath came in short quick gasps. My eyes were glued on that door and the iloor continued to open little by l),ttle. In my distorted imagination, I conjured up many pictures of the person who was stealthily en- tering my room. Tie was a robber after money and jewels or he might be a raving maniac, with shrivellod, skinny fingers, and long claw-like nails, sneaking up the stairs, making hideous faces and clawing at the air with his ugly hands. I could see him grop- ing at my door and jjushing it open with his horrilile fingers. Ugh! I was petrified! Already I thought I saw a hideous head and distorted features peeking around the edge of the door. During the fraction of a second which fol- lowed I went through unutterable tortures. I lay cold and limp. My heart pounded ter- ril)ly. I tried to scream, but I could only produce a faint whisper. One moment more and I should have been a mani .e myself, then, from the doorway cahle a sound which made me offer up prayers of thankfulness, for the sound was a plaintive Meow, Meow! VIEGINIA ULUICI. AN AMERICAN Years ago, in that part of Russ ' a which has long been the scene of political revolt and upris ' .ng, there lived a cobbler, Ivan Eativitch. Life to this poor cobliler was a continual night- maie, haunted by domineering landlords and cruel police. Monarchy succeeded monarchy with such rapidity until from one day to the next the poor peopk ' did not know who i-uled them. As time went on, food and clolhinL; grew scarcer and one by one, ' til there was only tlie youngest left, Ivan saw his children tlie, victini.s of inuiger, cold and cruelty. At last he could endure it no longer and he cried to his wife, We have only one cliild left. Let us take the money your good fatlior left us and go somewhere. There must lie some place where God will let us li ( ' in jieace. Sio they traveled li-om one country to another through central EuroiJC. l!ut ever (hey moved towai ' d the west. At last Ivan ' s wife died. Then Ivan cried to his son, Everywhere we hear of America. Kveryliody says that in . nierica, the jioor piMiple are as good as the lich ; the peasants as good as the ollicials. ' J ' liey tell us how in AinerVa the i)eople wel- come strangers au l make them free. Ijct us take the remaining money and go there. Six years later, in one of the bettei ' streets of tlie foreign section of our largest cities, Ivan Eativitch lay dying. His son, also Ivan, knelt by the bed, listening to the last words of the dying man. My son, America is the finest country on earth. She is your foster mother. Russia killed N ' oiir own mother and America, opened her arms. She took ns, outcasts of ;inother land, to her heart. She fed and cared for us. Unasked, she taught us her language and is educating you. She gave us the supreme gift, freedom. She will, in years to come, give you wealth and jiosition if you earn it. Take all she has to give you but in return live for America, uphold her doctrines, foster her ideals, be worthy of her. Give her your all, even if necessary, life itself. Thus Ivan Eati- vitch, a l?ussian, nay, an American, died. But his soul lived on in his son, who strove to be woitliy of America. It was not always easy. W ' th his Russian looks and foreign ways, he was not ail American to everybody, but only one of those horrible Russians. u

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broker. There are a great many allusions to A snake lies hidden in the grass. Perhaps the best is spoken l)y Lady Macbeth when she, advises Macbeth to Look like the iinKicent flowers But be the serpent under it. ' ' Defer no time, delays have dangerous seeds ' .s seen to be the simple phrase, Delays are dangerous. ' ' This is referred to in A prov- erb never stale in thrifty mind. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good is discov- ered to be, 111 blows the wind that profits no- body in Shakespeare ' s diction. Whereas Shakespeare writes When sorrows oome, they conic not s ingle spi.es But in battalions, we more often say Misfortunes seldom come alone. He makes the proverb Still water? run deep much more picturesque by SmooTii runs the waters where the brook is deep. The two following quotations are not as easily construed into the much better known Strike wliile the iron is hot. My lord, he will drive you out of your re- venge, and turn all to a merriment, if yo ' i take not the beat. We must do something, and i ' the beat. What can ' t be cured must be endured is found in Macbeth as Things without all remedy. Should be without regard: what ' s done is done. Shakespeare refers to the old adage The cat loves fish, but she ' s loath to wet her feet, when he says Letting ' I dare not ' wait ui)on ' I would ' Like the poor cat i ' the adage. A study of Shakespeare ' s works togelher with a study of such creations is most inter- estvig. The description of his fairies is fas- cinating, while the gruesome i)ic.tures of his ghosts and witches are awo inspiring. One might well feel repaid for making a tliorougl; study of Shakespeare ' s creations. G. WIDTFELDT ' 24. as long as we live; their actions are a guide to us in times of uneertjiinty. Oh, l)est beloved friends, rema ' .n with us forever! Let us through you and with you, iiiiil our v ' .sion, lest wo also perish. BERTHA VIK, ' 24. BOOKS Books ! — what a volume of thought tha,t one word brings to ns. We think of the quiet, al- most holy hours, tliaf we spend with a book as our sole companion. Wo remember the pleasant moments we have with our friends, discussing some favorite book. The charac- ters become as real persons and companions to us. Their thoughts and words remain with us LA FEMME IDEALE? Selon Monsieur Homme, quelle type est h; feunne ide.alef Est-ce la fille intelligcnte ou la fille athleti(|ue? Est-ce la femnie senti- mentalc, qui vous adore les yeux, ou la fille de bon sens, qui paile toujours a la voix seche? Monsieur Homme, au inieux, est une cre.i- ture changeante, ainsi il est assez difficile di: lui faire un choix. Maintenant, au cas dj I ' intelligente, Monsieur Homme, sans doute, lui offre beaucoup d ' adniiration, surtout, si elle est a la mode. Mais souvent, sa sui)ci ' iorite nieme pique la vanite enfantine de Mon- sieur et — e ' est fini. Nous savons tous que Monsieur Homme aime ordinairement a no parler de rieu que de lui-meme — ses conquetes atl!leti(|ues, par exemple ; ainsi, quand notre fille athletique lui dcmundc un pen d ' elos ' e merite, il la eroit ennuyeuse, et il poursuit soti chemiii. La femnie sentimentale a bien du succes, car elle lui nourri.t la vanite avec le nectar de flatterie exagerce. Cela est pourquoi il ne Taime pas lon ' gtenips — elle le flatte trop. Vous pouvez bien vous imaginer que la fille de bon sens n ' attire pas Monsieur Homme; on tout cas, il senible que trop de jeuncs gens I.-, trouvent prevenante. Monsieur Homme dira hii-meme Ma fille ideale est celle qui repres nte un peu de tout — intelligeute, athletitiue, sentimentale, et la femme de bons sens. Oui, dira-t-il, C ' o:it moil ideale. Mais, quand nioi, jc vois celle |u ' il choisit — c ' est trop. MARTIN, ' 24. A CLOUD Just a cloud like a big graj ' pearl With a (lush of rose in the heart. Just a cloud ill the morning sky To give the day a new atart. Is not there .-i, vision within that rose? A vision for you and for me, Which calls to the very best in our souls And makes us rejoice to be? All, yes; there ' s a vision, a vision true Which leads us on to our best. ' Tis our (iod Who put the vision there And taught us to do the rest. HELEN CORBBT, ' 24. 12

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At length came the World War and finally America entered. Ivan, with liis father ' s last words ringing in his ears, was one of the first volunteers. Perhaps now he could repay America. To the doughboys, who nicknamed everybody, he was Little Eoosia . In vai.n, he told them he was an American; in vain, ho fought Iiusky Yankees and brawny Western- ers, and endeared himself to tliem all. His fun-loving buddies persisted in calling him Little Eoosia . Late in the afternoon of one stormy day, the captain of Ivan ' s company called his men together. Boys, he sai|d. we ' re trapped. Tlie relief won ' t come ' til tomorrow. Therd ' s only one way out. Tonight a German will bring the plans for tomorrow to a post in ' No Man ' s Land ' . If we get the plans, probably most of us will be living tomorrow night. If not — . We have got the location of the post. We need four men, two to get the message and two to bring it in, for chances are nine to ten the first two won ' t get in. Who volunteers? Once again Ivan heard the words of liis fa- tlior — If necessary die for her , and he stepped forward. It was pouri,ng that night when four silent figures crept over the top of the trendies into the inky blackness of the slime and muck of No Man ' s Land . The silence and darkness was deathly, save for an occasional blinding- shell from the Huns. The four crept for- ward, burrowing into the mud as a shell broke. For interminable minutes they crawled. At length, Ivan, who was in the lead, stopped. Aliead he caught sight of a faint, steady light. He looked at the luminous dial of hi|8 watch ; time for the messenger. He crawled closer. Hark! Gutteral voices! Very slowly now ho moved ' til the German post came into full view. Two Germans sat bait to him. One held up a packet. Ivan waited. He signaled to the man behind him, and crawled closer. Tiien lie rose swiftly and brought the| butt of his pistol down on the head of the German who held the packet. The man sank witliout a word, but hi,s companion cried out. Ivan seized the packet and plunged into the dark iiess. As lie knelt, a bullet singed his legs. Another, and his head seemed to crack, but on, on to Number III. At last by tlie light of the coming dawn, lie saw the American lines. But by tlie same liglit, the Germans saw him. Shells spun in the air and tore up tlie earlli. Finally, ho reached Number III, and as the man dis- aiijieared with the packet, lost consciousness. When Ivan awoke, he was in a hosp),tal. He awoke to a world of darkness for the Ger- mans had taken liis eyes. He awoke to find he would never walk again for his legs had been given to the great cause. After the Armistice, many of his buddies came to see him and the first one said, You are one of the finest Americans. We have given you a new name, ' Tjttle Yank ' . Ivan was in the hospital of France three years, and wliile he was there, the president of France decorated hijn, An American soldier, for con- spicuous bravery . And the president of the United States, visiting France, called on him and left a token of the greatest honor to an American soldier. Toda.y, Ivan is in one of our great work- sliops for the blind, where wonderful things are done by the sightless. He has no eyes. He has no legs ; will never walk nor see in this world, yet he is content, for he knows he has been worthy of America, lias offered her liis all and best of all — he is an American. DOETS DULEY. MORNING The sun rose brightly o ' er the hills, And filled the valley with shining light. The budding flowers beside the rills Glistened with dew in the morning liright. The birds in the trees sang merrily Witli their joyful matins filling the air. Tlie frogs in the brooks croaked happily. As they gleefully greeted the morning fair. Over the whole wiite eaa ' th the morning Comes with a gleaming light so clear. To impart to the world the joy of having The use of (Jod ' s wondrous beauty here. DOEOTIIY BRADFOEI), ' 24. W oik! for soon you graduate, A im high, before it is too late, Iv eo]) light on as you begin, K liter play and work to win. V iiid yourself in what is best, I 1 will help you stand the test. I ' j a 111 a good name for your own, 1j earn to depend on yourself alone, 1) oii ' t be gniiiipv, glum or gloomy. II a ( ' a smile that ' s bright and bloomy, I 11 the world go out and try, G lad to will for W ' akelield H igh. DOEOTHY BAETON, ' 24. :• 1-1