Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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18 THE QUIVER Here we cooked a light “snack”: eggs, bacon, pancakes, fish (caught by trolling on the way), and coffee. After lunch we immediately proceeded on our way. About two o’clock the current grew stronger, and, seeing the water flash in the sun, we knew we had arrived. At the foot of the “rifflin’s” was a large rock, surrounded by deep, quick water, just the place for bass. We caught a large eel there. Getting up close to the shore, we fished one at a time, as a person in each end was needed to hold the canoe against the current and keep it from punching holes in its side on the rocks. We had taken two or three small bass (about a foot long), when suddenly Dad’s rod bent double, and the reel remarked, “Whizzzzz!” That fish was a “holy terror.” He tried to go under the canoe, under sunken logs, around rocks, and, all these failing him, jumped clear out of the water, splashing us with the bright drops as he shook his head. But he was doomed, and we took him in the landing net. fully twenty minutes after he had felt the first prick of the hook. Nearly sixteen inches' long, weighing about five pounds and a half, he was probably the best, though not the largest, fish we caught on our two weeks’ trip. By this time the wind had shifted and was blowing upstream, but we were hungry and triumphant, and how we made the water fly! Down the six miles of river, up the two miles of lake, we raced without a stop. The wind blew so hard on the lake that I was kept busy bailing the tops of waves out of the canoe. Oh, but the “Mushroom” was inviting! Oh, how the odour of frying bass and eel tickled the nostril! Oh, the way a dinner of a bass a foot long, half a large eel, two or three “spuds,” six or seven flapjacks a foot across and an inch thick, topped with half an apple pie and a pint of milk, tasted, and how comfortable the bed was when, the inner man full, the mind at rest, and the body tired, we put out the lamp and turned in. CARROLI H. RICKARD, ’26. Miss C—: “What is a coat of mail?” D. B—r: “A male coat.” Teacher: “Who were David and Goliath?” Pupil: “They were lovers.” Teacher: “Give an English word derived from ego.’ D. S-n: “Egg.”

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THE QUIVER 17 bed; she sat up a long time. As her room is next to mine, I can hear her easily. I heard her get out of her rocking chair about half an hour later. It was the first time she had ever stayed up. She usually goes to bed right after she enters her room. It looked strange to me. The next morning at table both of them hardly said a word. 1 } aw them look at each other once, in a queer way. Say, this was getting suspicious. I determined to watch them all I could. After the meal they walked into the parlor. I followed; but when Uncle Billy saw me, he asked me to bring him an envelope that was on his dresser. Though I looked around, I didn’t find it. When I came downstairs, they were gone! When I came home for dinner, Father and Mother were talking in the parlor. I heard enough to make me gasp. Uncle Billy and Phil had left that morning, bag and baggage, without telling anyone where they were going. Then, shortly before noon, Uncle Billy called up from Petersburg. He said that he and Phyllis were married and were leaving in ten minutes for Florida. Now wasn’t that a funny thing to do? WENDELL KELLOGG, ’25. A VISIT TO THE “RIFFLIN’S” The most enjoyable summer of my experience was spent in the north-eastern part of Maine. My father and I were staying at Palmer’s shack, the “Mushroom.” It took its name from the fact that when we wrote asking if we could have some sort of a cabin, Anson Palmer answered, “Yes,” then built the shack almost overnight. But I digress. One morning during our two weeks’ stay, we decided to go for bass to the “rifflin’s,” or rapids. As it was an eight or ten mile paddle and as non-residents are not allowed to build fires, we took Roswell Palmer, called, for seme inexplicable reason, Teen. Teen was eighteen. “Down East” has one failing for the fisherman. No one has a good canoe. Palmer’s, the one we were using, was eighteen feet long, every foot a leaky one, and weighed more than a large man could ftagger under. We started up Hadley Lake with a head wind. (One always has a head wind in Maine. When you turn, the wind shifts.) We had a long upstream trip, so naturally we went slowly. About noon we stopped on a low hill in the marshes which border the river for miles on both sides, where the current is slow.

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THE QUIVER A CALENDAR OF THE YEAR 19 By Anna San Souci, Lester Taber, Mary Lynch, Thomas Ryan, Dorothy Gledhill, Doris Pease, and Catherine Coleman JANUARY January, is full of cheer, With blustery snow, and the glad New Year, With its usual thaw of ice and snow, Showing its days will longer grow. FEBRUARY February’s cold and dreary, But our thoughts are very cheery; And our hearts leap very high As we go for a coast near by. MARCH When March winds blow o’er field and hill And grass begins to grow, Then comes the yellow daffodil, To make the gardens glow. APRIL In April there are many showers, Which tend to bring forth lovely flowers. In swamps the frogs begin to “peep,” And buds and insects wake from sleep. MAY May is the month of flowers, Which April rains do bring. They cover all the bowers Early in the spring. JUNE The month of June is lovely. The best of all the year; With the birds all singing gaily, And the air just full of cheer.