Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER o ON POND AND RIVER The sun was lifting the gray mist as we launched our canoe and started up the pond. Everything was silent except for the sound of the steady dip and drip of our paddles. When we reached the first “carry,” the mist was quite gone and the sun coated the quiet water with a sheet of living gold. The green banks, rising from the shore, looked soft and velvety in the sunlight, and the shady coves invited the explorer’s paddle. Ascending the river, we soon came to another pond, where water lilies lay anchored like fleets of fairy craft. Their gleaming sails sweetened the air with the choicest perfumes of elf land and tempted us to remain in their lotus-land. The river ahead beckoned, however, and we went on, after a last long look at the dainty blossoms. On the winding river we now struggled with a stretch of rapids and then glided over a deep and quiet pool, where the current lay asleep. The waters shone clear and emerald bright, and, looking into their crystal depths, we could see dainty aquatic plants gently waving in the current, awkward turtles plunging hastily to shelter among the roots, and bright fish darting and flashing over the bottom. Sometimes, as we rounded a turn in the river, a pair of ducks would rise from their meal with much indignant splashing and quacking. Sleek muskrats dived and swam along meadow bottoms, always deeply intent on business. At times the stream lay straight before us, bordered on one side by high, wooded banks and on the other by peaceful hay fields. Here and there a quiet old bridge lay brooding over the stream, casting calm reflections on the hurrying water beneath.

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4 THE QUIVER THE SKY Have you ever seen the sky at dawning, When Aurora opes the gates of day, When the sun-god mounts his golden chariot, When he drives exulting on his way ? All the earth is joyous, fresh, and fragrant, Beams of light shoot up across the sky; White and amber, pearly clouds of gossamer Gleam, and then the sun is up on high. See it mounting far up to the zenith, Going on its same old pilgrimage, Lighting up the world with rays of sunshine, Cheering youth and aged, fool and sage! Summer days, its light shines warm and friendly, Gentle clouds of down flit o’er the sky; fn the winter time, its rays seem colder, Shafts of harsh light rioting on high. Have you ever seen the sky at night-time, When the sun is going down to rest, When the clouds of rainbow colors seem to Flutter from a thousand gardens blest? Then the twilight deepens, sunset fadeth, Darker purple hues are in the sky, Nature draws the coverlet o’er her gardens, Flowers nod and whispering winds do sigh. Angels in the Heavens hang out lanterns, Stars that glow and twinkle in the blue, In the floor of Paradise, they’re peep-holes, Letting glory from the Lord shine through. In the night, when earth is wrapped in slumber, Sparkling, gleaming, in their lofty sphere, All the stars keep watch without cessation, Breathing blessings on us year by year. MARION E. SALLEY. ’Ir .

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 THE QUIVER At noon we ate beneath a shady tree and explored the country near by before setting out on the return journey. Instead of resisting us, the river now aided our efforts at navigation, and we paddled rapidly homeward. The frogs basked in the warm afternoon sun and all nature seemed satisfied and happy. As the sun went slowly downward, the lilies furled their sails, and the beams of the western sun were broken into many flashing, sparkling gems by the dancing ripples, until their light finally disappeared altogether. Darkness gathered slowly around us and the breeze died down. We soon glided silently to the boat-house, glad to be home once more. T. BUELL CARD, ’16. “JUST ABRAHAM LINCOLN” (An Imaginary Incident) “Why doesn’t someone answer that doorbell?” I muttered, half to myself and half to the baby; but no sooner had I spoken than I remembered that there was no one but myself to answer it. Te rs came to my eyes, for I was tired out and in despair. News had come of my husband’s death in the battle of Five Forks, and, although I knew it wasn’t true, I was very, very anxious. Richmond had surrendered. apd a great fire had swept the city. The servants had fled in terror, and I was left alone with my little son. The ringing of the bell again aroused me with a start, and after I had tucked the baby under my arm, I started for the door. You can’t imagine how much I dreaded to open that door. Of course, I should find some Northerner, for the city was full of them, and I not only hated them but feared them. I opened the door, however, and saw a tall, gaunt, sad-faced man in loose-fitting clothes. Never, to this day, have I seen anyone quite so tall as this man was. I really had to bend back my head to see his face. “Is this George Andrew’s place?” asked the stranger. “Yes, sir,” I replied. “But—” and a sob choked ,me as I thought of the news I refused to believe—“but he isn’t here.”. “I know all about it, lady,” was the reply, in the kindest of tones, “but I just wanted to look over his place. You see, George and I are very old friends, although we havep’t seen each other for years, and I would give much to see him once. more. I wanted to see him, to see his home, and his family. I am Abraham Lincoln, and you, I suppose, r