Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER OUR ORCHARD 13 Just imagine that you and I are sitting in the shade of the sycamore tree. The cool afternoon breeze is very refreshing, and peace and quiet reign. To the west lies the apple orchard near the foot of a hill. The land slopes gradually upward, so a part of each tree can be seen from where we sit. I believe that I never saw anything as beautiful as the apple orchard is now, for the trees are in full bloom, and the scent of apple-blossoms fills the air. Everything harmonizes. The clear, blue sky, the dark green hill, and the shades of pink outlined against the black bark of the trees form a beautiful picture. Once in a while we can hear the clear, sweet notes of a bird. A few butterflies flit in the sunshine. Everything is so beautiful that it hurts. Many of the trees are very aged; some are even a hundred years old. Year by year the dear old trees are falling, but each is being replaced by a young, vigorous one. Beyond the orchard, in a pasture, are a few of the oldest fruit trees on the farm. In the heat of the day, the cows gather in the cool, dark shadows, and placidly chew their cuds. Do you see that tree with the wide, outspreading branches? I am very fond of it, and have named it the “Mother Tree” because its branches seem like gigantic arms ready to hold you. Every limb forms a seat, and even now I like to climb up there to read or think. The tree directly in front of us is an Astrachan tree. I like it because its apples are the earliest in the orchard. When I was little, I used to play dolls under that tree, with its low boughs for cradles. Nearly every Fourth of July, our family has an outdoor picnic there. We can not look long on this beautiful natural picture without feeling strangely quieted, and we leave it with a sense of restfulness and peace. HELEN J. THAYER, ’18. SHOPPING FOR CHRISTMAS Scene I. A department store Enter Mrs. Jones, with forty-one parcels. Mrs. Jones—I want to see some gentlemen’s socks. Salesgirl—What price, please? Mrs. Jones—I’m sure I don’t know. Salesgirl—Any particular color? Mrs. Jones—Oh, show me all you have. (The salesgirl takes down eight different colors at eight different prices.)

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12 THE QUIVER and we breathed gladly and deeply of the frosty air. Millions of sparkling, twinkling snow crystals quivered and flashed gaily in the gray woods, ever mocking the somber dulness of the trees. The brooks gurgled cheerfully under the ice, the snow made shrill music beneath our feet, and the merry tinkle of gladsome sleigh bells came lilting on every breeze. The blood went surging and caroling through our veins with such glowing strength and bounding energy that we felt a power that the gods of Olympus might have envied. The ordinary cares and worries seemed far away and insignificant and were soon entirely forgotten. At noon we pulled our lunches from our pockets and ate dinner, sitting on a stone wall. So we went merrily through the day with talk and laughter, yet wasting not a minute and accomplishing our purpose through it all. The occupation is exacting, for a single mistake may upset a day’s work; but the observance of care and precision soon becomes a habit and is splendid training. I think that every boy who has a chance to do such work should grasp the opportunity. It builds up strength ot mind and body and supplies him with the best kind of money, that earned by himself. He has many experiences that he would gain in no other way; and when the summer is over, he will have money in the bank, improved health, and many pleasant memories. Yours truly, T. BUELL CARD, ’16. LET US HAVE PEACE O God of Mercy! grant to us thy peace In this dark hour of sin and strife. Let not thy ever endless blessings cease. But give to man a purer life. May every soul forget its toil and care, And rally to thy throne above; May every heart bring sunshine, not despair, To thee and thine, O God of Lovei O, let man cease this vain and useless war, And let us join the grand “Amen Then angel throngs will sing, as those of yoie, Of “Peace on Earth! Good-will toward men.” NELLIE R. WOOLLEY, '16.

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14 THE QUIVER Salesgirl—Here are some light blue, dark blue, black, yellow, gray, light green, crimson and brown, at prices from ten cents to one dollar. (Mrs. Jones selects the crimson pair.) Mrs. Jones—How much did you say this pair is? Salesgirl—That pair is fifty cents, madam. Mrs. Jones—I'm not sure but this color will wash out; and, I declare, here’s a thread broken. Let me see the yellow ones. You said they are fifty cents? Salesgirl—Oh, no! those are one dollar. Mrs. Jones—Ahem! They’re not worth it. When I was in Boston, •- bought a pair of socks exactly like these for twelve and one-half cents i don’t believe Alphonso would care for them, anyway. These light blue ones appear to be the best. What time is it there? Half-past five! Alphonso will be waiting for his supper. I’ll take the light blue ones (The salesgirl wraps up the light blue socks, and Mrs. Jones examines the black ones.; Mrs. Jones—Why, I declare! I’m sure I didn’t notice these black ones before. How much are they? Salesgirl—(with a weary look)—Ten cents, madam. Mrs. Jones—Why, I believe I like them better than the blue ones. 1 11 take them instead. (The salesgirl rapidly ties up the black socks to prevent Mrs. Jones from changing her mind again.) Salesgirl—Here’s your parcel, madam. Ten cents, please. (Mrs. Jones spends four minutes searching through her purse. She hands the salesgirl a ten-dollar bill. The salesgirl moves away to wau on another customer.) Mrs. Jones—Was there ever anything so inefficient as a salesgirl in a department store! I declare, I’ve been waiting exactly thirty seconds for my change! Salesgirl—Here’s your change, madam. Nine dollars and ninety cents. Mrs. Jones—Well, at last I can start for home. Alphonso will be tired waiting. I’m sure he’ll like his socks. I couldn’t have bought him a better present. They look exactly like the dollar ones. But it certainly does take patience to buy anything here, (with a Job-like look.) Exit Mrs. Jones. Scene II. The department store two hours later. Enter Alphonso. Alphonso—What is a suitable present for a stout, middle-aged lady ? Salesgirl—Here are some fine kid gloves. All the wealthy people