Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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10 THE QUIVER are placed on the table. ' I am always thinking of the wholesome, appetizing foods that had been “thrown out” to please the “swell” company, who, I believe, eat corned-beef and cabbage when they dre at home. About an hour later, the dinner is over. I can hardly stand up, I am so angry. I have lost my appetite and my temper as well. K. FRANCIS KELLEY, ’18. TWILIGHT The shades of night are falling, Slowly, slowly falling; The birds and trees and flowers to rest The Almighty King is calling. The trees their lofty branches -rear Like spectres grim and still. And the golden sun is sinking Far beyond the distant hill. All alone I sit and wonder As the long day fades away, Wonder at the glorious twilight, The best part of the day. Now alone my soul is restful, Free from care my heart doth beat, O’er me comes a peaceful sadness, Sadness 'tis—and yet how sweet! Some do love the cheerful morning, Some the glorious noonday sun; But the deepening shades of twilight Have my heart’s affection won. HELEN H. KELLY, ’16.

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THE QUIVER 9 This list of food was changed just because some “swell” company were coming for dinner. I was not informed what we were going to have, but I was sure that it would be no good. About twelve o’clock the company came. After the usual exchange of compliments and such rubbish, they took their seats at the table. I was established between two very stout women. I had been told to keep up my part of the conversation at the table, but I need not repeat that there were two women seated beside me. Oh, I can see myself and that dinner now! The first thing on the menu is a small plate of “julienne,”—at least that is what they call it. The soup would fill about a teaspoon. I am always passing things back and forth and receiving, for my kindness, a “bewitching” smile. Next I am handed a plate of “turbot.” I take a taste to try it and find that it is all gone. Before the next course of “rote de-lievre” is brought along, 1 have some gossip with my neighbors,—that is, they tell me some of their hard luck stories. They talk of the wholesome bouillon they had at Mrs. Clarkin’s; of the new pink dress with the chiffon on the outside that Mrs. Malachy has made; and of various other things. I feel as if I am going to faint from want of food and from excess of dissappointments. I think that a block of wood or iron, or any other thing that did not come from France would be very wholesome and delicious. Some “ragout de mouton” is next placed on the table. More French! I have a good mind to shout out, “Where’s the corned-beef and cabbage?” However, when I think of the Philippic that I shall be the entire audience of, if I do, I change my mind and say something complimentary to my neighbors. I feel that at any moment I shall fall asleep, never to awake. I am slowly fading away. Just then a baker’s cart passes by. As I am seated near the window, I see all the nice things with which the baker fills his basket to take to the next house. Then comes along a man selling baked beans for ten cents a quart. Presently another man strolls by, carrying a portable delicatessen. The appetizing odors are wafted in through the window. Just imagine how I feel! Meanwhile my neighbors are exchanging gossip. There is now placed on the table a dish of croquette, which we eat a la francaise. Though it has a big name, the croquette proves to be plain mince-meat. . . Soon some “parfait au cafe,” some meringue, and some marmalade

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THE QUIVER 11 109 Monroe Street, Woonsocket, R. I., March 19, 1915. Dear Miss Mowry: I think you will be interested to hear of some of the work I do outside of school. Since I have been in high school, I have spent mv vacations working with a surveyor, thus having many new and interesting experiences. I found the work rather hard and perplexing at first, but my employer taught me carefully and I soon gained a good idea of whai 1 was to do. Besides learning to use and adjust a transit and to make accurate measurements, I gained additional knowledge of mathematics, carpentry, woodcraft, building construction, and many other things j ertinent to civil engineering. Most people never see a surveyor at work except on a city job, on house-lot work, or some other comparatively easy branch of surveying, and they are always inclined to think such work is very easy and simple, though there is much more to it than appears on the surface. In the country the work is harder, and I have passed many a long day chopping a line through mile after mile of swamps and woods, under a blazing sun and tortured by myriads of insects. Often it is miles to a drink of good water, although one’s clothes may be soaking wet with water, mud, and slime, in which he is working. The winter has its discomforts, also, in the way of wet feet and numb, stiff hands. The pleasant side of surveying, however, far outbalances the disagreeable. In summer the best place is out-of-doors in the open air. The outlook changes from day to day. Cities and villages, farms, woods, and swamps, all form part of the scene in their turn. To-day we work in Chepachet, to-morrow we are in Mansfield, forty miles from Chepachet, and the next day we are on a farm deep in the quiet country and far from the beaten roads. So it goes, a kaleidoscopic whirl of change, ever new and ever different. One of the most enjoyable days I passed this winter was a Saturday which we spent surveying. We went out to Mansfield, where we had spent most of last summer running a power transmission line between Mansfield and Foxboro, and went over the entire line, using only tape and pins. The day was bright and intensely cold, and the sky was so blue, and the sun so bright and golden, and the air so keen and bracing, and the snow so white and clean, that it was a joy merely to be alive on such a day. The cold was not sullen and deadening, as it sometimes is, but it seemed as though Jack Frost were in a merry mood,