Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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22 THE QUIVER the children in the neighborhood had spent three days in decorating It. “If I do say it, I certainly made a pretty bride, and your gra.iu-father, in his blue uniform, was handsome enough to have gone into the moving pictures, had they had them in those days. We had a honeymoon of three heavenly weeks. We stayed at home because it was change enough for Joe to be on dry land without gallivanting around the country. “Finally the day came when he was to leave. I don’t believe any parting was ever so touching. I had a terrible feeling that I should never see him again. Something seemed to tear at my heart, and I hated to let him go. It was to be for a year and a half this time and I thought I could never wait for his return.” Here Grandmother paused, and I didn’t dare to speak, I was so afraid of what she was going to say. Finally it came, the inevitable. She almost whispered it. “He never returned.” My heart almost stopped. “Oh, Grandmother, what happened?” I couldn’t help it, but I was weeping. It was a very long time before she told me “They were about an hour from port. The men had been very busy clearing decks, and your grandfather, after the work was done and he had come from the watch, told the mate to take the wheel while he went to rest. He lighted his pipe and walked toward the stern. That was the last time he was ever seen alive.” “Why, Grandmother, how perfectly terrible! Didn’t anybody know what became of him?” “Well, the manager of the shipping office came up to the house. I was just finishing dressing your mother and was putting her into her cradle. You see he had never seen her, and I wanted to make her as pretty as possible. So when the door opened, I rushed out, expecting to dash into your grandfather’s arms. When I saw who was there. I knew instantly that something was wrong; and when he told me tiie news, I was nearly crazy. I don’t remember much until I opened my eyes some time later and found myself in bed. with my mother and father leaning over me. It all rushed back to me, and I buried my head in the pillow and sobbed. I think it was the best thing I could have done, for afterward I seemed to have awakened all over again. The first thing I thought of was my baby; and when they brought her to me, I crushed her to my breast, mumbling something about the Lord being good to have given me a daughter that looked so much like her father. I think I even smiled a little. “The next day his body was found by the lighthouse keeper,

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THE QUIVER GRANDMOTHER’S SMILE 21 Grandmother pointed to a picture on the wall. It was a picture of a girl barely eighteen. She was looking down on us with the sweetest smile I have ever seen. Her lips were a rosy Cupid’s bow and her little pearly teeth shown between them. Her eyes were large and brown and twinkled with a merry sparkle. I looked at Grandmother, and I looked at her picture. The mouth was almost the same except that there were some little wrinkles that denoted suffering, in the corner of Grandmother’s mouth “Grandmother,” I said, “if it were not for the wistfulness in the corners of your mouth, I should say that you have the same smile that you had then.” With that Grandmother looked at me with a tilt of her head as though she were considering something. Finally she drew a long breath. “You would like to know, I am sure, just why those lines happen to be there. Of course,” she smiled, “they are partly due to my many years, but the real reason—” The smile suddenly disappeared, and Grandmother looked all of her eighty-three years. I began to think 1 was going to hear no more. Suddenly she began her story. “I was only eighteen, and I was the happiest girl alive because I had met. and was engaged to, the best man on earth. The first time I saw him, I had gone down to the dock to watch my father’s boat come in. He was captain of the “Priscilla Bess,” named for my mother and me. And proud he was of her, taking great pains to keep her white and shining'. She drew’ up to the dock in the prettiest manner, gliding in as though she had wings. I ran up to my father and threw my arms around his neck and uras just going to kiss him when I found my eyes fastened on the best looking man I had ever seen. I asked my father who he was. “ ‘Johnson,’ he called, ‘ccme here and meet my pretty daughter.’ “I blushed a vivid pink at this, which made Father laugh. “‘Mr. Johnson has been my first mate on the voyage and has just come in to take his examination for captaincy. He lives in New York, but w’e are going to keep him with us until he sails.’ “Of course I was terribly thrilled to hear this, and before he railed, we were engaged. Well, my dear, I don’t believe a girl ever had a better time getting her trousseau ready than I did. Joe was going to be gone two months and then we were to be married. The night before he w’as due, I don’t believe I slept a wink for thinking of h m and Wondering if everything was in readiness for the wedding. We were to be married in a little chapel not far from the house and

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THE QUIVER 23 who was coming ashore for some provisions. He saw a form floating in the water and upon examination, found him to be my husband. Everyone drew the conclusion that he must have been sitting on the i ailing and fallen overboard. You know it was an odd thing that, although he had practically lived on the water all his life, he had rc-vcr learned to swim. He was buried in a little cemetery behind the church where we were married, and your mother and I used to go every day to oflfer a prayer for him.” Grandmother’s story was ended, but I saw something new in her smile that I had never noticed before. It was a smile, not only wistful, but very brave. LOUISE ULLMAN, ’24. A DAY IN “YE MERRIE OLDE ENGLENDE” We were awakened at early dawn by mine host of the Red Lionne Inn, a coach-house on the road from Cambridge to London, in order that we might partake of a hearty breakfast, served smoking hot. before we continued our tiresome journey by stage-coach to London. However, we could not do full justice to this excellent meal, for the “Tally-ho” of the guards sounded in the courtyard before we finished. There was much scurrying around and altercation with the other passengers, but finally we obtained seats in the interior of the coach, where we were packed between an old lady who was afraid of highwaymen and an old gentleman whose only comments were upon the class of people with whom one was forced to travel. W e endured this atmosphere until we reached London, where we made haste to descend at the sign of the Crowne. As we had reached this hostelry at dinner time, we indulged ourselves to the extent of eating a savory dinner and then, while we tossed off a mug or two of ale. for such was the custom of the times, we read the poorly printed billet, which had been handed to us upon our arrival. Since entertainment was needed to free ourselves from the disagreeable feeling which had been contracted during the morning’s ride, we decided to attend a new play, “Macbeth,” by a fairly well-known playwright. William Shakespeare. We learned that it was being played at the Globe Theatre under the capable direction of that gentleman himself.