Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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10 THE QUIVER “THE ROAD TO VAGABONDIA.” He was only a little yellow dog, of the kind that no pne seems to want, and was sitting there on the side of the road, as forlorn and lonely a sight as ever was seen. His coat was ragged and bore many signs of recent battle, while the remainder of one ear “flopped” over his eyes, which were large and brown and were his only good feature. However, he was not as downtrodden as he appeared to be ; and when 1 whistled to him, he came trotting up, shaking his stump of a tail in the friendliest manner possible. We set out, my friend and I, taking the back ways to avoid any encounters, and soon reached the open country, where we swung along at a great pace. Over hills and through lanes we went, sometimes stopping near a brook to watch the fish darting about, or to see a bird rise out of the grass with a great flutter, as we approached. Once more on the main road, we wandered aimlessly along until we came to a crossroad where Jip, as I now called him, led the way. He chose the road to the right, and we went on with only a stop at a farmhouse to get a drink. The stop, short though it was, was not short enough, however; and when I had quenched my thirst, there was Jip, in a mad scramble after the farmer’s hens. I finally managed to quiet him down and to lead him away, taking care to avoid all signs of houses. We scrambled along, jumping ditches and climbing walls, and having a glorious, but breathless, time. Finally we came to a little

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THE QUIVER 9 RULES ARE MADE FOR GUR GOOD, LET’S OBEY THEM Why is it that the minute anyone says the word, rule, we become stubborn? Rules are really the most simple things in the world to obey. They are merely guide posts, showing us the right direction and helping us to follow it. How well should we be able to conduct ourselves in school without our guide posts? The first rule of the day is that we reach our home rooms at the appointed moment. Just imagine the delay there would be if we took our time about it. Then there are rules of order. In a large institution, these rules are absolutely necessary, but it is these rules that are the most offensive to our pride. How we do hate to believe that we are just one small part of a large whole, and yet that is just what we are. If one part of an engine does not function properly, the whole engine is either directly or indirectly affected. It is just the same at school. We don’t realize that when we do something to annoy a teacher, although it may seem a trivial act to us, we are clogging the machinery. It is so easy to do things without thinking, while, if we used a little thought, so many little annoyances could be avoided. Next year let’s start a campaign against petty disturbances, for in reality we are only obeying the old law, that what cannot be done by all should not be done by one.

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THE QUIVER 11 lane that just seemed to invite one, so vve started following it regardless of houses and hens. We had not gone far when we met a tramp, who, although he would rrot tell us the reason, warned us not to go any further. Feeling rather venturesome—for the road wound invitingly before us—vve disregarded his warning and braved the danger, whatever it might he. All seemed quiet and serene until we came to a farmhouse, where we saw all the people running in every direction and making wild dashes for some place of shelter; but we went on ,,ur way, even though we did not feel so brave. Alas! we were soon to find out the cause of the commotion, for, as we rounded a curve, there was a great roar and a bellow, and a large bull came rushing towards us. For a moment we were both too startled to move ; but we soon regained our powers of locomotion and run we did. jumping walls that we should have believed impossible a few moments before and going at a pace that would have delighted any traffic officer had he been near to see it. Finally we lost our pursuer and sank limply down to regain our breath before returning home. Jip seemed as full of life as ever after a few minutes of rest, but I decided that we had had enough vagabonding for one day, so we turned our steps towards home, hoping, however, to take another excursion on the Road to Vagabondia at some future date. GLADYS BELROSE. '24. THE COUNTRY ROAD I love to walk the country road And know not where I go, For oft small brooks in shady nooks I hear as on they flow. And watch the birds that sing above And see the flowers that grow. The orchards old, the corn of gold, As in the wind they blow. And then at dusk when home I go, I think of all I’ve seen; And I rejoice with heart and voice At everything they mean. ' CATHERINE M. QUINN, ’26.