Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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22 acne Blue ann what QQPQQPQQPQQPQQPQQPQQPQQPQQFQQPQQPQQPQQPQQPQQP S R I E S waaeaassaaaaswaasssesassasaaeaswsaeaassas A Message Brought by the Sea Mary Smith sat dreaming on the porch of the tiny sea-side cottage one sunshiny day. Her thoughts seemed to be traveling far out beyond the little harbor to the blue stretch of ocean which met the distant horizon. Scarcely a year ago her father had proudly ridden forth upon the crest of the waves with his well equipped fishing smack, fully confident of bringing home a big catch from the Grand Banks. But month after month passed and the little craft did not return. and no word was received from her captain or any of her crew. Little doubt now remained in the minds of the most hopeful of the friends that these men had met a sailor's fate and had been lost at sea. Mary's thoughts were busy devising some plan for lightening the house- hold burdens, for the tired look which the daughter had noticed that morning on her mother's face, showed only too plainly that care and worry were beginning to tell upon her. The murmur of familiar voices and the sound of her own name, caused Mary to turn to greet her friends, John Dallings and his sister Grace. Why, halloo, John, and halloo, Grace! How good of you to come! Isn't this a great day? Well, I should say so, an- swered Grace. Just right for a sail, exclaimed John. Oh! wouldn't that be glorious! Let's go over to Lovell in the sailboat. The Wind is just right, and mother can spare me, I think. Just the thingll' agreed Grace and John. At two o'clock, the trio set sail for Lovell, a small summer resort just across the bay, where they spent the afternoon with Mary's aunt. About five o'clock, they started on the homeward trip. When about half way across the bay, Mary spied some- thing iloating in the water near them. John directed the boattowards the object, which proved to be a bottle. inside of which, was a scrap of papei with Writing on it. Mary was the first to read the messagej As she read, her cheeks turned ashy, he lips began to tremble, and she seemes on the point of fainting. Crossing the stern to where Mary was sitting Grace dashed water upon the girl' temples and rubbed her hands, whil John seized the paper and read a follows : Lone Tree Island, June 6, 1915. Alone, starving and in need of clothing, living on roots and bark of trees. Will the one who finds this please offer some assistance to T. D. Smith, captain of fishing schooner Macbeth, wrecked off Newfoundland, July 1, 1914. Why! exclaimed John, th: must be Mary's father!

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The Blue anh white ZI MY BIRD NEIGHBORS Little Birdie, on the tree, Turn around and look at me! Tell me if you're ever sad, For you always seem so glad. Tell me why you fear me sog I won't hurt you, don't you know? Come down here and get this Worm He's a fat one, watch him squirm- He will make the best of food For your little hungry brood. I know where you have your nest, Hidden where none may molestg For I found it while at play By the hedge, the other day. Little wife she fears me, too, When I came, away she ilewg As I peeped into the nest, Four tiny eggs in it did restg Then I tiptoed soft away, But returned another dayg Birdie, guess what I did see! Eight little eyes gazed up at me! -+73 r Four little mouths were open wideg For their daily food they cried. Mother bird was watching me From a near-by apple treeg Careful not to cause her fear, I left her to her babies dear. Birdie, are you not hard pressed To find food for so full a nest? Soon you know the day will dawn, When your babes will all be gone, Leaving you and wife alone With an empty little home. Father bird, when they're afar, Do you wonder where they are? Do you sing a song of prayer That our Heavenly Father's care Be bestowed upon them all? He who marks the sparrow's fall, Will guide your young where'er they be, Over land or over sea, But, Birdie, must you leave me now, To feed the babes on yonder bough? I thank you for this little talk, And I'll continue on my walk. D. S. G., '19. Jil? v flf I .i.

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Gite Blue aah white 23 Mary had by this time revived enough to tell them that shehad recog- nized the writing to be that of her father. Upon reaching home, the letter was shown to Mrs. Smith, who was also convinced that it was from her long lost husband, whom she had feared dead. Six weeks later, there was great rejoicing at the Smith home, for after a five weeks' search, -Mr. Smith had been found and restored to his wife and children. Purnus GnEssEY,'19. A CAT'S PLEA No, it's no use being just an old family cat Without any feelings! What? say cats have feelings, after the way you've pulled my tail and kicked me out of the door! You must remember that you are fifteen times heavier than I, and one hundred times stronger, but still you think it is all right to throw stones at me and toss me from some high place to see if I'll land on my feet. I won't say that you do all these things, but why don't you try to stop others from tormenting me? You laugh at the little baby for pulling my tail, and then you get mad and give me alicking for protect- ing myself by scratching. Another thing-you do not feed me enough. You say that if the old cat is hungry, she will go out and catch a mouse. But this is not so, for we cats catch every mouse we can find, whether we are hungry or not. You fire shoes at me and my friends when we try to talk things over in the back yard at night. Don't you like to have a good time with your friends? Then why should not' a cat like to, also? You make us beg for everything we get to eat. How would you like to have to beg for everything you Want to eat? You do not think it is cold for us to be out in zero weatherg but how should you like to stay out all night, as I have to? Now, Boy, you have heard my plea, and you know how I feel when mis- used. So won't you please try to treat the old family cat decently after this? DANA GREENLAW. HAZY-RIVER JDE ' Hazy-River Joe was a tall, muscular Indian, about forty years of age, with beady, black eyes, and dark, straight hair. His swarthy face was covered with scars, and was marked by very high cheek bones and a long, slender nose. His broad shoulders were covered with a buck- skin coat, the front of which was lecorated with beadwork. Like his face, his long, slender hands were :narred by scars. On his feet were a pair of knee-high boots, into which his trousers were closely tucked. The only visible weapon about him was an old-fashioned muzzle-loading rifle with a very long barrel. As he started quietly forth from his dingy hut, situated on one of the back streets of a small Canadian town a few miles above the border, he appeared as a man accustomed to strive for himself under all condi- tions. After walking aimlessly about for over an hour, he looked at a' battered silver Watch, and then hastened to- wards the small railroad station. He