Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER 15 Leading up to the house from the gate is a beautiful avenue lined on both sides with giant pine, elm, and ash trees. In front of the house is a charming flower garden with little walks of white stone, which glisten in the sun, and here and there are cozy nooks with little white benches, also of stone, sheltered by rambling rose vines. There is but one low step before a door made of wood and painted dark brown. On the door is a big brass knocker, on which are engraved the coat of arms and the motto of my mother’s people. The house is surrounded by acres of valuable land. On the east side is a large hay yard closed in by a high wall, where the hay, corn, and turf are kept for use during the winter. Some distance beyond this is a small brook, which adds to the charm of the scene. Stretching away to the west is a great farm, where the planting is done. Here also is a large coach house, where the farming implements and the carriages are kept; and here again is a large paddock, where a ferocious bull is confined. At the western extremity is a remarkable spring, from which all the drinking water and all the water used for cooking are taken. This is drawn in great pails every morning and carried to the house for use during the day. Behind the house is the dairy, where the cream is separated and the butter made. Going down a little slope, one sees a large space fenced in, where the cattle graze. There are. perhaps, ten or twelve cows, two horses, twenty-four pigs, and twenty sheep, both black and white, each kind of animal in its own compartment within this enclosure. The northern extremity is the most picturesque. Here is a large river, Abann Sliah, Mountain River, which joins the Shannon. At this point on the river is a beautiful castle, which was formerly the ancient residence of the Obriens, earls of Inchiquin, on the opposite side of which is lovely Inchiquin Lake, a mile in length, with a hill (Cantlay or Countlay), celebrated in legend, rising over its western shore. The lake gives name to the barony of Inchiquin. This view is plainly seen from the northern side of the house. The death of any member of this family was made known to the household a week before its occurrence by the crying of the banshee, famous in Irish tradition, who came to the hank of the river every night and could be heard crying from evening till daybreak. This castle is now untenanted and is gradually falling to decay. The beauty of this Irish home under the light of the moon is a sight long to be remembered. The stillness of the scene in the evening twilight seems to be invoking the blessing of God after the labors of the day. FRANCES M. BETAGH. ’23.

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14 THE QUIVER sou’ wester, put his corncob pipe in his mouth, and stand leaning over an end of a boat. He is supposed to look natural, but a fisherman on dry land never does, and some of the interpretations of him are marvelous to behold. The artists seem pleased if one tells them how well they paint, but if he offers a suggestion, they insinuate that he doesn’t know anything about art and attempt to put him in his place. Some of their costumes would shock a good artist. I suppose they bring about inspiration, but I should think they would scare it away. After one has satisfied himself and his feelings that if he wished to be an artist, he could do as well as anyone he has seen, he strolls to the gift shops. To leave Provincetown without some sort of a souvenir is simply not done, so he saunters into the shops. Here he sees some more creations. Everything that can hold paint is dressed up in some way with the inscription, “A Souvenir of Provincetown.” Quahog shells, long neck clam shells, scollops, and Dutchmen’s shoes are all painted in such a way that if the poor creature wished to return, he would never recognize his old home. There are also pennants, rings, and pins with pictures of the monument. More wooden things with pictures of the monument have “Japan” stamped on them than the name of any other country. He finally decides to buy a pennant to put on the car and lets it go at that. If you are intending to visit Provincetown next summer or at any other time, I strongly advise you not to do it. LOUISE ULLMAN, ’23. MY MOTHER’S HOME. I am going to try to bring to you a picture of my mother’s home. This home is located in the townland of Cappanagera, County Clare, Ireland, nine miles from the town of Ennisi and a two hours’ train ride from the city of Limerick. It is situated on a high hill overlooking the surrounding country. It consists of approximately one hundred and fifty acres of land and was at one time the ancestral home of Mr. Dadd, an English planter, who was forced by bankruptcy to sell his home. The house is built back about fifty yards from the public road and is separated from it by a huge wall made of stone and mortar with a massive iron gate painted white, which is always locked.

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16 THE QUIVER A SHIP O’ FANCY A ship o’ fancy I once did sail, O’er a beautiful amethyst sea; But a wind did blow That wrecks such ships, And my ship o’ fancy It wrecked for me. I Faith was my captain, ; Hope, his mate; But Illusion stood guard O’er the wheel with Fate. • And one dark night, When Faith was not there, The storm did come That wrecked my ship fair. i Though my ship is wrecked, My captain’s left for me, And he still in my dreams Sails that amethyst sea. MILDRED L. BUXTON, ’23.