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

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Uribe Blue ani: white 27 go home, because he remembered his mother wanted him to do some er- rands for her. Look here, he said, I bet that dog got lost or something. I don't believe anyone killed him or anything. But he looked queer and hurried off. I wonder if he does know anything about Jip. I am going to watch out. JUNE 25. I had a queer dream the other night. I seemed to see Jip coming along toward me, wagging his tail just as he used to, and trying to make me follow him. I did so, and he led me out behind the barn,where the old Baldwin apple tree is, and began to paw the ground and bark, as though he knew something was hid- den there. Just as I began to dig, I woke up. All day I couldn't help thinking about Jip and the dream. Finally, I took a spade and went out by the tree, and I had just made a small hole when Iheard Tom shouting for me. I answered l1im and he came around the barn, but when he saw what I was doing, he turned awful white. Then he said, O, Tolly, please don't tell on me. Your aunt Glare gave me a dollar to do it, really she did. After that he told me the whole thing. How Aunt Clare hated all kinds of dogs, and was afraid of Jip, and so she hired Tom to kill him, but made him promise not to tell. But you found out, anyway, he said, so I had to tell you. Your aunt Glare knew your uncle would be mad if he found out, and so when you had all gone to the County Fair, I happened to find Jip asleep under this very tree. I ran home and stole some chloroform, and as soon as he was dead, I buried him right here. He didn't suffer any, truly. I told Tom I would never tell, I guess sometimes detectives do let their victims go free, anyway. Tom and I wrote an epitaph for J ip, beginning- Every dog must have his dayg Jip had his and passed away. We would have put up a board with this on it, but we knew it would be seen. and so we hid it in the hollow trunk of the tree. And now I am looking for more mysteries to solve and more clues to detect. MARIAN S. Hasmmon, '16. THE MAJOR'S ,BATTLES In a small New England town, there once lived a man called Major South. No one was aware that he had ever shouldered a musket, but, when he arrived in town, he told the stage driver about a great battle in which he had figured as major. So the stage driver introduced him as Major South, and Major South he re- mained. Now, this man had two hobbies. The first was to tell of his marvelous battles, and the second was to appear young. His hobbies soon became well known, for, as is the custom in all small towns, when they had noth- ing to do, all the men and boys sat around the country grocery store. Thither the major came every day and told of his great adventures. Oh! the many, many battles that man had engaged in! His recitals were interesting at first, but in time they grew monotonous. Yet no man, woman, or child would have dared breath a word of doubt concerning

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26 Qiibe Blue :mb white shoot these rapids, but up to the point of our story, no one has suc- ceeded, and those who have attempted it have either been drowned or killed by being dashed upon the rocks. O. S., '16. Tolly, the Amateur Detective JUNE 17. Now that school is closed, perhaps, I'll have time for my diary again. There's one thing about diaries-after you have kept one long enough, you see that things really do happen to you after all, even if you seem to be having a sort of dull time as you go along. And it's still worse when you have such an awful name as I have-Tolman Oourtenaye Smith, called Tolly for short. My mother got it out of a book. I suppose that's why none of the other boys have such names, but are just plain Tom orJim. I was twelve years old last week. QOne must always write numbers out in words, unless they are very big. Teacher says so.l I think it's about time I decided what Pm going to do when I grow up. I've thought of everything. There's dentists, and cowboys, and sailors, but I guess I'll be a detective, and what's more, I'm not going to wait till I get awful old. 1'm going to begin now, and hunt for clues and things, like Sherlock Holmes. A JUNE 20. It certainly is funny, but just as soon as I decided to be a detective, along came a mystery! To be sure, it wasn't like having a mur- der, or lots of diamonds stolen, but it's most as bad. Our big dog, Jip, has disappeared! Now, of course, Jip was kind of bad sometimes. Aunt Clare hates all kinds of dogs, and she always hated Jip, who felt a a similar dislike for her. He always barked when he saw her, and one day a while ago, he ran off with a whole leg of lamb which happened to be in the kitchen. But otherwise, Jip was a fine dog, at least we boys and Uncle John always thought so. We never would let him be punished, nc matter what he did. Jip and I were great friends. It seems kind of lone- some now. It has been two days since we have seen him. I thoughtl might as well begin practicing being a detective, so I looked around fo: foot-prints, but there so many every where in the road, that I gave it up Jip wouldn't wander away by himsel anyway. Probably somebody stolf him. JUNE 21. A clue at last! I wa out this morning with Tom Randal and we had a great time. He had half a dollar to spend, and there's on thing about Tom, he isn't a bit stingy Tom is fourteen, so he always ha more money to spend than I do, bu fifty cents, all at once, is a lot eve for him. But he said this wasn't any thing--it was only the remainder of whole dollar he earned three or for days ago. He absolutely refused 1 tell me how he earned it, even whe I said cross my heart and hope ' die. That was queer, for we haw always told each other secrets. B1 I don't care, I paid him back by n- telling him about being a big d tective. We were having a fine tin and then I began to tell him aboi poor Jip. I told him how Uncle Jol said held have the one that stole killed Jip arrested, if he could iii him. Just then Tom ,said he had

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28 mhz Blue ant white these tales, because of the major's terrible frown. His second hobby, as I have said, was to appear young. His hair was slightly gray, to be sure, but he was straight and tall, always well groomed, and his clothes were of the latest cut. He always attended the dances, nor did he sit by the stove and look on, as the old men did. Not he! He danced with the prettiest girls. None of them would have dared refuse, because of that terrible frown. Finally, a new family moved into town. Now, one of the members of this new family was a little lad of about seven years. Evey day since his arrival in town, he had sat on the bench at the grocery store, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands, listening with wide-open eyes to the major's stories. Never before had the major entertained such an attentive listener. One day, as the boy was listening, a thoughtful look came over his face. He did not like to interrupt, but at length he could bear it no longer. Why, he said, you must be awful old, major. I've been counting up the battles, and you must be pretty nearly a hundred ! Everyone held his breath. Such a look spread over the major's features that the poor, little, innocent lad fled in terror. I am sure he did not stop until he was safe in his rnother's arms. The major stalked out of the store. He still attends the dances and is still called the major. But never since that eventful day has he ever mentioned the word battle. Bmralcu ANDEB SEN, '16. A KNIGHT FOR A NIGHT Henry Pownall was one whom for- tune had favored, in every sense of the word. After leaving college, he had entered the stock exchange on Wall Street as a clerk. Gradually, he invested what money he had, in a copper mine, paying six per cent. dividends, which soon advanced to ten per cent. At the age of thirty he had retired and become president of the W. dz M. Copper Syndicate,with a large income. With all this, however, he was not happy. He was unmarriedg in fact he never intended to marry, for in his college days, his faith in female tenderness had received a severe jolt, as his sweetheart had eloped with his roommate. But what did that mat- ter? he had often saidg they were probably living happily together. Mr. Pownall was of English birth: his grandfather had been in the English court, and it was his highest ambition to bear an English title. As he sat by the fireside one dark, cold night, smoking in comfort, his mind wandered back to the days which witnessed the deeds of his grand- father. While thinking of these ex- ploits, he ceased to draw on his pipe, his eyes closed, and he was soon in a deep slumber. In afew minutes he appeared be- fore the king of England, and was knighted for rescuing the princess from a band of German plotters. Then he was made lieutenant in the British army, and, after bidding the princess goodbye, he left for the front. He had been on the firing-line three weeks when he was wounded. During that time he had performed many brave deeds, such as piercing