1936 Yearbook

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DEDICATION "Love is courage, service, friendship aflame"

TO MISS KNOWLES, WHO HAS FAITHFULLY REFLECTED THESE QUALITIES IN HER YEARS OF DEVOTION TO THE CHILDREN OF THE LOWER SCHOOL, WE THE BOARD OF 1936 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE THIS SEVENTH ANNUAL VOLUME OF THE BLUE MOON.

FOREWORD THE ASTRONOMERS OF THE BLUE MOON, HAVE IMWE. PORTED A TELESCOPE OF THE CLEAREST GROUND GLASS WITH WHICH TO STUDY THE ACTIVITIES OF THE CONSTELLATIONS AND PLANETS AROUND THIS BODY. OUR UNIVERSAL LENS IS ABLE TO BRING OUT IN DETAIL THE STARS OF THE FIRST, SECOND, AND THIRD MAGNITUDES. OCCASIONALLY WE SEE A SHOOTING STAR WHICH FLASHES INTO OUR VISION MAKING AN INTERESTING VARIETY IN THE CLOCKWORK OF THE HEAVENS. SO CLIMB THE LADDER TO OUR BLUE MOON OBSERVATORY AND GAZE WITH US UPON THE WONDERS OF THE HEAVENS.

MAY THE TELESCOPE BE ADJUSTED CLEARLY

TO YOUR VISION SO THAT AFTER ONE GLANCE YOU WILL WANT TO KNOW MORE.

AFTERNOON TEA AT GRAY GABLES

HOPE FISHER Principal A.B., Vassar College; A.M., Columbia University; Ph.D., University of Michigan EUNICE W. SMITH Mathematics and Science A.B., Middlebury College HELEN

B. CLARK

History

A.B., Vassar College; A.M., Columbia University HELEN P. ESTEE French A.B., Smith College; diplomas from l'Institut de Touraine and la Sorbonne and l'Ecole de Phonetique de l'Universite de Paris: A.M., Middlebury College CHARLOTTE M. POST Latin A.B., Smith College ELEANOR BLAIR A.B., Wellesley College; A.M., Columbia University LENA SIBLEY PORTER A.B., Dalhousie University; A.M., Wellesley College ROSE DRESSER

English English

Diction and Dramatics Graduate of the Leland-Powers School

EDITH

J. JONES

Head of Middle and Lower Schools Class VIII, mathematics and testing Graduate of State Normal School at Worcester

CALVIN

W. MILLER

Class VII, History and English A.B., Williams College

FLORENCE

A. WOODIS

Class VI, Art and Science

Graduate of State Normal School at Worcester

BLUE

6 ANNA

MOON Class

MATTISON

V

A.B., Vassar College

E.

CARRIE

FLORENCE

IV

KNOWLES Graduate of Springfield Training School

Class

L.

Class III

COBB Graduate of Miss Wheelock's School

Class II

ANNE LACEY A.B., Smith College

E.

MAUDE

Class I

HYDE Graduate of Miss Fisher's Kindergarten School

HELEN

G.

Sub-Primary

ROCKWELL Graduate of State Normal School at Worcester

Nursery School

MARGARET TAFT Cooperative School for Teachers of New York MARION

F.

Assistant in English

MCENERY A.B., Wellesley College

FRANCES OMAR WEEKS Graduate of Fox-Buonamici School ; Surette Summer School; Pupil of Carlo Buonamici, Mrs. Frances L. Grover, and John Hermann Loud HOMER

Music

Interior Decoration

D. CARR

Boston Museum of Fine Arts, Harvard Summer School

A. STEPHEN

DEMOORJIAN Graduate of Worcester Art Museum School

EMILY BURLING WAITE MANCHESTER Graduate of Worcester Art Museum School

Art Art

DOROTHY TROWBRIDGE MERRILL A.B., Connecticut College

Physical Education

JOHN WILLIAMS

Physical Education Harvard School of Physical Education

WILLIAM

G. KECK

Manual Training and projects Massachusetts School of Engineering

Creative Dancing

MARJORIE HEINZEN Pupil of Max Weiner JOSEPH

Social Dancing CHAMPAGNE Chalif, Castle, Maurice, of pupil Technology; of Institute Massachusetts Serova, Baieul

GRACE

L.

L.

Registrar

EDGETT A. B., Wellesley College

Head of the Residence Financial Secretary EMMA J. TODD olNurse R.N.Scho MINNIE R. PAIGE, School Physician CHARLES A. SPARROW, M.D CONSTANCE GARDNER

DOROTHY DEAN President of Class I; Glee Club I, II, III, IV; Dramatic Club I, II, III, IV; Treasurer of Dramatic Club III; Dramatic Club Board IV; Play I, III, IV; BLUE MOON Fair I, II, III, IV; Library Committee II; Varsity Basketball II, III, IV; Head of Self Government IV.

BARBARA GUMMERE Treasurer of Glee Club III; Glee Club IV; Dramatic Club III, IV; Play IV; Stage Crew III; BLUE MOON Fair III, IV; Head of Blues IV; Varsity Basketball IV; Manager of Baseball IV; President of Class III, IV.

RUTH WIN DLE Glee Club I, II, III, IV; Make-up Committee I; Scenery I; Costume Committee I; BLUE MOON Fair I, II, III, IV; Social Committee II; Varsity Basketball I; Head of Grays III; Secretary of Class I; Basketball Manager IV; Class President II; Chairman of Community Chest IV; Play II, III, IV.

CAROL CHURCHMAN Library Committee I; Librarian II; Glee Club I, II, III, IV; Dramatic Club I, II, III, IV; Play I, III, IV; BLUE MOON Fair I, II, III, IV; Secretary of Class II; President of Class II; Assistant Business Manager of BLUE MOON III: Business Manager of BLUE MOON IV.

PRISCILLA MARTIN Glee Club I, II, III, IV; President of Glee Club IV; Dramatic Club I, II, III; Make-up Committee I; Scenery Committee I; Chairman of the Ticket Committee for Play III; House Manager IV; Census Committee I, II, III; BLUE MOON Fair I, II, III; Chairman of the Food Table IV; Secretary of Class I; Assistant Librarian II; Hockey Team II; Varsity Basketball IV; Community Chest III; President of Class III.

SHIRLEY ECCLESTON Community Chest IV; Glee Club IV; House Committee IV.

MARY ANNIS HASKELL Community Chest III; Secretary of Class III; Glee Club III, IV; Dramatic Club III, IV; Play III, IV; BLUE MOON Fair III, IV; Art Editor of the BLUE MOON III; Editor-in-chief of the BLUE MOON IV.

THE SENIOR WILL L t1 CM of 1436 of girt iLiaturoft iktool, in the Heart of the Commonwealth of Worcester, Massachusetts, being as much in our right minds as would be expected, and being uncertain as to what the world has in store for us, do, after much discussion, make this our final will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills made by us.

We give, devise, and bequeath, after due deliberation, as follows: To the incoming Senior Class an alarm clock and dinner gong for the benefit of those who fall asleep in the Senior Room during study periods.

To the whole school, an endless supply of nickles and dimes so that clothes may be taken from the pound immediately.

To the school we also leave special suction pipes to the cellar so more holidays may be had during the rainy season.

To the occupants of room 36 at Northfield next year, Annis's and Dottie's ability to be quiet (?)

To the present Freshman class, Carol's ability to play any piece but Chop-sticks.

To the Upper School, bridge tables and cards to be used in the Study Hall during lunch hours and recess.

To Miss Blair, in order to reduce her frequent trips to the pound, we leave a wheelbarrow.

To Miss Smith, who is sadly in need of it, a new laboratory, guaranteed to be larger than a shoe box, completely furnished with the latest equipment.

To Helen, who is fated to be a great physicist, all the materials for her perpetual motion machine.

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MOON

11

To Babs, Mary Lee, Frannie, and Libby we leave Winnie's car.

To Doreen, Dot's unbroken record of perfect attendance.

To Penny and her pals a subscription to a good magazine. We suggest Child Life.

We install in Dossie's house a bell that rings simultaneously with the one at school to prevent her tardiness.

Signed in the presence of us by the testatrix, who at her request and in the presence of one another have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses.

MR. DEMOORJIAN MISS EDGETT Gummere, and Dean Drawn up by Attorneys-at-law for the class of 1936.

SENIOR PROPHECY Bancroft Hill! This new and modern buildThe powerful lens in the telescope far surpasses the one made at Corning, N. Y., twenty years ago. It was three years in the process of cooling and it looks into the very lives of people. It was transported to Worcester, Mass., on a specially constructed train last month, and was installed by a special crew of trained technicians. While this tremendous task was being executed, another one equally difficult was in process—that of selecting a suitable and capable head of the observatory, to carry on scientific research and world important experiments. Finally, from among the world renowned scientists, Prof. Gummervitch, A.B., LL.D., B.Litt., B.M., B.L., B.M.E., B.Sc., XYZ. was chosen. It is felt by leading authorities that Professor Gummervitch's background in the spacious and fully equipped laboratory at Bancroft School under the careful and trained guidance of Miss Smith, head of the scientific department, played a very important part in her successful career. Professor Gummervitch has chosen two assistants—one, Catherine Cadwallader, daughter of Professor and Mrs. Nathanial Cadwallader; the other, a classmate of Miss Cadwallader, Dianna Brooks. Both of these young ladies are at present students at Bancroft School. Mrs. Cadwallader, the former Carol Churchman, was a member of the Bancroft graduating class of 1936 and founder of Churchman Seminary for Young Women.

I had the rare opportunity of visiting Professor Gummervitch in her observatory yesterday. As I entered she was peering into the telescope and giving orders to her assistants. I was about to speak to her when she became very excited about something she saw. Waving her hands frantically in the air and nearly falling off the steps, she called to her assistants.

"Please focus this lens, Catherine. All I can see now is a red and gold

Observatory on THEingNew has just been completed.

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blur. That's fine. Is that the front of a Five and Ten I see? Yes, it is, and there's Shirley. She is typing out some sort of list. Oh, its a book-list and the letter-head says Woolworth's Red and Gold Gift Shop. She must be the buyer in the book department.

"I believe I shall move the telescope in the other direction. Please open the skylight toward the southern hemisphere. Move the telescope Dianna, and watch out that it doesn't come down too far. That will be all right there, but wait till I mount the stairs to focus it. Turn the furthest wheel to the left a little. There, hold it still.

"It looks as if I had the New York Police Gazette Building. It is; but which department is it? Turn that wheel to the right just a little . . . fine.

I can see the sign on the door, now; it says, 'Advice to the Lovelorn, Winnie Windle.' Imagine that. There's Winnie now just tearing out the door with a bunch of papers in her hand and her hair flying. I heard that she was one of the best writers of that kind today and that she has made quite a name for herself.

"Catherine, just move the telescope one eightieth of an inch to the left; I want to look around New York a little more. There, right there is very fine. That is the Women's Reformatory, I see. Wait, who is that person?

She looks very familiar. It's Dorothy Dean—behind bars. Oh yes, I remember I saw an article in the paper last week about a Dorothy Dean being sent to a Women's Reformatory but I never thought it could be the same one that I knew. She was arrested for shop-lifting and causing riots in several stores by throwing rocks at cases and inciting the crowd with a strike.

"I would like very much to look at the middle west, Catherine, so we will now move the telescope in that direction."

The grinding of steel against steel as the dome was moved reminded me of a roar of thunder, and when at last the circular roof was moved and the oblong skylight opened in the dome the telescope was put into place again.

Prof. Gummervitch then spoke to her assistant.

"Will you please focus that now, Catherine. It's a little blurred still, and all I can make out is a large moving object like a great caterpillar. That's very good. That monster has turned into a bus. There is a young woman driving it and it is loaded with passengers. Why, it is Mary Annis Haskell driving. The bus has written on the outside of it 'New York to Seattle.'

I always thought that she would get there some day."

When I heard that Mary Annis was going to Seattle, I thought that it would be a fine trip for me to take. So I carefully left the observatory without disturbing Professor Gummervitch for I knew that the slightest disturbance would annoy her greatly—I made all arrangements to meet the bus at the Bancroft Hotel, and was overjoyed when Mary Annis offered to show me around Seattle in her spare time.

PRISCILLA MARTIN, 1936

Playing hymns on the piano

Doing her Algebra

Campbell Soup Advertisement

Chubby little rascal

Spanish

Classic

Exotic

HASKELL

KAYO

PRISSY

SHIRL

WINNIE Doing extra work in all her lessons!

Reading laboriously

Being late to school

Chuckling

Athletic

GUMMY

Going to see Miss Fisher

Girl Scout

BEAUTY

DOTTIE

CHIEF OCCUPATION

TYPE OF

Her past

Her finger wave

Her fingernails

"Jolly" (Cocker Spaniel)

The car

Her brogue

Her Kleenex

POSSESSION

DEAREST

"Don't tell me, let me think"

"Thank you"

"Huh?"

"Oh, dear!"

"Well—what of it?"

-Ha, Ha!"

It makes me so mad !''

SHE SAYS

SENIOR SLAMS WHAT OTHERS

Innocent?

Quiet

Tidy

Conscientious

Typical college girl

Happy

Perfect senior

THINK OF HER

To settle down

To be a buyer

To be an interior decorator

To graduate from Vassar

To go west

To be curvy

To go abroad next winter

DESIRE

GREATEST

VAGUE MEMORIES OF A TRIP TO EUROPE Europe

I was four, my parents decided to take the whole family to NvHEN for a year. To my older sisters the prospect of going away to a new

and strange place was looked upon as an exciting adventure, but to my four years the news was taken as a matter of course.

I remember nothing of the train trip to New York, but I do recall waking up on the train and seeing Mother and Nannie my nurse standing over me anxiously and saying something about hurrying. I was very sleepy from a long, uncomfortable night on a bed that jiggled, and on looking out of the window and seeing a place that was new and strange I thought I was in Europe and calmly announced that I was quite ready to go back home.

However, instead of being taken home, I was hustled to a big boat.

My memories of the steamer are narrowed down to numerous dolls. I remember I had brought all my doll family with me, half of which I think is still residing in Europe. The steward was fascinated and took excellent care of them. Every night at bed time I would come into the stateroom and there, snuggled into the berth, were my dolls very carefully put into it by the steward. This thrilled me to think that there was one person who cared about the dolls as much as I and from then on the steward and I seemed to have a mutual understanding.

BLUE

MOON

15

Soon after landing in England my brother Waldo and I were taken up to a little town in Scotland to stay with the family of our nurse while the rest of the family went on extensive sight-seeing trips. We were at Nannie's for about a month and every morning a little Highlander would come around with a little wagon from which he sold icecream cones for a penny. It was because of him I had one of my first tragedies. At the sound of his bell one morning Waldo and I rushed up the hill with our two pennies to buy an ice cream cone; running home as fast as we could and admiring our cones, I suddenly tripped, falling fiat on my face and giving my knee a nasty scrape.

I remember watching the scoop of ice cream rolling down the hill to destruction. Whether it was the loss of the ice cream or the pain in the knee I don't know, but whichever it was made me yell, and yell I did. My brother thought it was rather funny until the suggestion that he might give me half of his cone came up. Then it was his turn to yell and I joined in for fear he might have his way and I would have none. I finally won out.

When we arrived in Annan, we were given little chores to do every morning. I was allotted to feed the chickens—which was a pity for the chickens because I think their diet was a trifle irregular, but I learned a lot about the temperament of a hen.

After leaving Scotland, Paris is my next memory. Until a few years ago, when I visited Paris again, I have connected Paris with indigestion. The reason was simply that a few days after our arrival Mother brought home some nougat candy. It looked perfectly delicious; so that night when the family had gone out leaving me in bed, my thoughts wandered to the candy box. I had taken very careful pains to notice where Mother had hidden it and so it was no trouble at all to find it and less trouble to eat it all up.

The consequence was that all the rest of the time we were in Paris, I was in bed with numerous French doctors and a family that was quite worried till they discovered the empty candy box.

Now that I'm older and can appreciate things I can look back to our visit to Tours with an understanding of the humor of the headwaiter there but at the time I took him seriously. Nannie, Waldo and I were eating supper early, as was our usual custom, when the head-waiter came in with only two ice creams, which he set down in front of Nannie and Waldo.

That worried me and I lost no time in making inquiries as to where mine was— to which be replied that there was none left and that "la petite mamsell" would have to go without. I was very angry and in complete seriousness I said: "If I had a gun, I'd shoot you."

I got the ice cream.

After serious daily trouble with the waiter and ice cream, you can't imagine the relief I felt when we left and went to Nice. Here again my memory is limited to the dining room but with a more amusing slant. We were all in a very big and stylish dining room and waiters were carrying very

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fancily balanced trays but one waiter was too fancy for his abilities and soon he and his dishes were rolling at random all over the room. This struck me as terribly funny and I thought Nice a very nice city after that.

With Mentone came French lessons. We had a French governess and it was her unfortunate job to teach me French. The lessons took place in a little stuffy red room that was always much too hot. Mamselle would put a French book in my lap and tell me to read it out loud to her. Then she would get a grip on me so I couldn't move away by getting her arm around my neck, and holding a newspaper she would read the news of the week. If ever I happened to stop reading, which was often the case as I couldn't even read English, she would poke me and say: "Lisez! Lisez!"

I had a violent dislike for her and the French language and classed them both with the head-waiter at Tours.

The rest of Europe holds no definite memories for me. I vaguely remember feeding the pigeons in Venice, watching the marionnettes, and seeing the huge parade in Rome, and the great fun Waldo and I had having a store in the ancient ruins of Pompey.

In Genoa a rather sad discovery was made by Mother as we were leaving.

All through Europe at the end of each stay in a place Mother would go through our rooms and throw away innumerable treasures (in the form of rubbish) that Waldo and I had picked up, and Waldo and I, missing them, would hunt and generally find them in the waste basket. Then we would fill our pockets and start off. This grew to be sort of a custom—that at the end of each stay we should raid the baskets. But in Genoa our plan was brought to light because Mother happened to hear us say to each other that this was the day we raided the waste paper baskets. But her discovery was made rather late and it didn't affect us at all as we were sailing the next day for home. So the only treasures lost were those picked up in Genoa.

The arrival home was fascinating, seeing things I vaguely remembered but somehow didn't, looking at doors that looked perfectly familiar but not being able to remember where they led. I really think it was worth going to Europe to be able to come home and explore one's house over again.

FRANCES DRESSER, 1937

UE

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VARIABLE WEATHER shining, her silver

weather is a fairy: her twinkling eyes are stars THEhair—the moonbeams, her soft breath—the gentle south wind blowing, her misty gown—white fluffy clouds, her tears—the rain drops falling, her crystal beads—the dew drops.

The weather is an angry beast: the noisy, roaring wind—his voice; loud thundering—his anger; bright, flashy lightning—the glistening of his eyes; dagger-like icicles—his teeth; - needles of beating rain—his claws.

CAROL CHURCHMAN, 1936

THE WILL 0' WISP OF GROWING UP about anything at all, I

since I have been old enough to think EVER have thought how very nice it would be to feel old and to have others think you were growing up. Since I was four and a half, I have tried to act old. At that time all my friends were five and old enough to go to school, while I had to wait until the next year. So I ran away from home and went to the principal of the school. She let me take the examinations and I went home to tell mother I was in kindergarten. That experience opened my eyes to the fact that age makes a difference and the older you are the more privileges you get.

Since then, time after time, I have yearned to be older. And time after time I have failed. 'When we came to Worcester, Thayer and I entered Downing Street School, she in the sixth and I in the first. Of course she seemed to me to have reached the perfect age. She could go to the movies with mother at night, she could stay up until nine o'clock, she had a pair of real silk stockings, but the best thing was she could put her sweaters under her skirts while I had to wear mine hanging around my hips. To me, nothing pointed out to everyone quite so clearly how old I was as did those awful sweaters. They hung in a straight line from my shoulders to my hips while Thayer's tucked in beautifully and showed her waist. My For years I waited to be old sweaters were very nice of course, but enough, and then when I was in the sixth grade, the awful part came. It was stylish to wear sweaters outside of skirts. It discouraged me almost more than anything before or after ever did.

But I still had more to come. In the sixth grade I went to Gray Gables.

There I found the one thing to do to make people think I was old. One of the girls there had just had a permanent, and as you all know, the main thing that goes with a permanent is the gesture made by the left hand. This gesture consists of placing the hand, when every one is looking, on the back of the head and making a quick circular movement to make sure the hair is in place. When the movement is well done, it conveys to the spectators the

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idea of nonchalance which cannot be exceeded even by blowing perfect smoke rings. To me it was the perfect thing. At night I would stand in front of the mirror for hours practicing it. Of course I didn't have a permanent and my hair was as straight as a string, but it is always well to be prepared. The next year I got a permanent. At last I could use my gesture. I did it every time it was possible. But did it make me feel older? It did not. Did it make others think I was older? It did not. To tell the truth, they asked me if my head itched.

But I still didn't give up hope; some day perhaps I would be older, and toward that day I prepared myself. At Gray Gables the others all drank coffee. I didn't, naturally, as I was too young. I studied the way to hold the coffee cup so I could have the correct crook in my little finger. I found out how much cream to put in and that it should be put in before the coffee was poured in the cup at breakfast, and after the coffee was poured at dinner.

I realized that one should drink it negligently and always leave a little in the cup for fear of grounds. Oh yes, I knew all about coffee drinking—except what it tasted like. Two years later I was allowed coffee twice a week.

I was sure I loved it, sure I couldn't do without it, sure that at last I was old. Last week I told Mother I didn't want it any more. I didn't care for it.

I was fast losing all my illusions, but I had one more, one I was sure wouldn't fail me—high heels. There are kinds and kinds of high heels— the one that are squat and sturdy and the ones that are tall and graceful.

The latter of course were the ones I wanted—shoes preferably short vamped and spiked heeled, a black pair with suede sides and reptile tips, and a pair of sheer grey chiffon stockings to go with them. I found a picture of them in Vogue which I cut out and looked at every day. I got a pair, not quite my ideal but good enough for a beginner. I wore them everywhere and was terribly proud of them. I threw them away a month or so ago. I prefer low heels now; they're much more comfortable.

I still have a few illusions left, ones which I haven't tried out. College is the next big one, but I walk with care for fear it will turn into air as the others did. I have almost lost hope of being older but not quite. Others get older. Why shouldn't I? HELEN HUNTER, 1937

FANGAR OF THE FOREST OF DHU was a beautiful girl who lived in the large forest of Dhu with FANGAR her old mother Merdow. She was the loveliest girl in all Ireland.

Fangar stood straight as an Indian pipe and her hair was like spun gold.

Her cheeks were like the pale pink clouds at sunset and her eyes were blue as the fall sky.

BLUE

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19

Fangar could not remember her father who had died when she was young, but Merdow offered her all the love she could possibly want.

Fangar had never seen a human other than her mother. She was not lonely however. The animals of the forest were her friends. She could run as gracefully as the deer and was as gentle as the shyest doe with her speckled fawn. Her voice was as musical as the brook that babbled and chattered over the rocks.

The forest of Dhu had lovely trees which cast velvety shadows on its path when the sun shone through and the insects droned busily as they gathered pollen from sweet scented flowers.

There was one end of the forest that Fangar's mother had forbidden her to go to. This was the north end where the brook ceased to flow. Merdow said it was dangerous and that unfriendly animals lived there unlike the ones Fangar knew. This was not Merdow's real reason however. She knew that many handsome heroes came to hunt in the north end of the forest.

The thought of Fangar falling in love with one of them made her sad but she knew some day it would happen.

One fall morning Fangar set out for some choice nuts which she knew were ready to be picked. The tree was at the north end of the forest just were the brook stopped running. The leaves on the trees were turning red and gold, and overhead the clouds scudded by like big fuzzy rabbits' tails.

Fangar wore a dress the color of gold and entwined in her hair were some red berries.

Arriving at the end of the brook Fangar found the tree and proceeded to fill her basket which was made of bark. Suddenly she was startled by a noise such as she had never heard before. It sounded like thunder put to music. Fangar stood there enchanted with what she heard. All at once from around a bend in the path a man came. He stopped short when he saw Fangar for her beauty dazzled him.

Margael (for that was his name) was tall and dark with crisp, curly hair.

His back was straight as a spear and his shoulders and arms were broad and muscular. His eyes were like black whirlpools and his teeth were white as nut meats. He wore a brown tunic embroidered with gold and at his side was a gold hilted sword.

Fangar was the first to speak.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"They call me Margael and I am lost. I was out hunting with some friends and have not seen or heard them for a long while."

Margael's voice was low and husky for never had he seen such a beautiful woman as Fangar and he was already in love with her.

"I live with my mother Merdow not far from here. It is getting dark and I think there is going to be a storm. We can house you for the night," Fangar told him.

That night he told Fangar and her mother how he was a hero and how

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he had killed three times fifty men; how he could lift any tree in the forest of Dhu with one hand; and most of all he bragged how he was the most truthful hero of all Ireland.

Fangar listened breathlessly to Margael's stories and her mother knew that Fangar was in love with him.

Suddenly above the storm they heard a horrible roaring noise. Margael reached for his sword and rushed out into the storm. He was met by a huge four-headed monster who was all ready to spring on Margael. The monster was brownish green and his eyes were yellow and ravenous. His four tongues coiled and recoiled and his four mouths opened and shut with loud clicking noises.

Margael rushed forward with his sword and with one thrust pierced the monster's heart.

Merdow saw that Margael was worthy enough for Fangar. So the next day she showed Fangar and Margael the way out of the forest Dhu. Margael and Fangar were married and lived happily ever after.

JOAN ASHEY, 1938

NO SUCH WORD AS "CAN'T"! a certain mood into which one gets occasionally when doing THERE'S arithmetic becomes impossible. Last June you had breathed a sigh of complete bliss as you closed your math book for the last time—and completely and entirely forgot all that you possibly could: the times table, how to change square inches to feet—or rather to square feet—or can you do that? And now this year—most unexpectedly—you are presented a little problem—Oh-h-h, you're so mad—nothing comes out—you try to sit composed and go at it smilingly-8X7=63—(or was it 64?-0h-1) You go diving under the desk at an itch under your heel or under your knee— and come up to find that the problem of the 8 X 7 hasn't solved itself. You smile again—most unconvincingly—twitching and turning in your seat, furiously trying to believe it was 64 and not 63—and vaguely remembering that that wasn't much like anything you'd made it in the first four examples. So—then,—oh, after all, you only do it once in a great while— gritting your teeth and making impressive faces, you rip the work in pieces and pitch it toward the wastebasket as you stamp out of the study hall towards the library to sit comfortably with a book, or to the dressing room to console yourself with a drink of water, telling yourself that, after all— it only counts five off to pass the paper in late!

JOAN OAK, 1939

SKIERS

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AN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY LADY'S JOURNAL BATH, AUGUST 28, 1750.

DEAR CAROLYNE: I am sadly fatigued but, as I promised, I am writing by the first post.

The journey was very tiring and my aunt has been in low spirits since we arrived. Bath answers all my dreams and is truly charming. The prospect from the Crescent and the elegant symmetry of the Circus delights me. I must confess that the Parades do not satisfy the ideas I had formed of them —they are scarcely preferable to London's best paved streets. One of them affords a lovely prospect of the Avon and Prior Park, and here the most fashionable ladies and gentlemen stroll.

But to go back to the day we arrived. We neared the gates at about half after five and here Lady Castle met us. (She is very beautiful and I was astonished at the height her hair is dressed. In truth I have never seen the like in London.) My aunt told me that she is one of the leaders in Bath and I am sore led to believe it. When we entered, the bells rang for us (you pay to have it done), and many people bowed to Lady Castle. She seems to know everyone and I am sure I shall have a delightful visit. Lady Mary, her daughter, met us at the door. She is not very pretty and is several years younger than I. Aunt Charlotte was thoroughly fatigued so we had tea and then rested. Lady Castle told me she had planned a ball in my honour to be Thursday next—I am so excited.

I keep straying from telling about Bath but have patience and I shall.

We went to bed early and the next morning Lady Mary informed me we were going to the baths. She lent me a dress and cap as I had none appropriate. There are five baths but King's and Cross appear to be the most popular. We went to King's and it resembles that house we saw in Rome last winter. Lady Castle gave me a lovely tray to put my scents, powder, and other toilet articles on. You have to wear a bonnet or you are considered indecent and not allowed in. The bath had a most peculiar odor— I am told it is sulphur—which I did not like. The gentlemen are at one end and the women at the other. The little trays float on the water and you push them along. I was so worried for fear someone would knock mine and it would sink, I held on with both hands. It is very jolly and the most amusing thing happened. A very old lady said as we came out: "The very idea of being seen in such a condition—it is indelicate." Everyone tittered and she got very angry.

We had our breakfast and went to the Abbey after. It is very lovely and the windows are most beautiful. Then before lunch we strolled in the Parades. Lady Castle spoke to everyone. (It is a rule that you speak and be sociable to everyone.) I saw Beau Nash and my disappointment was

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great. He has a clumsy figure but dresses in the very latest fashions. He is to call at tea on the morrow.

After lunch we went to the Pump Room. Everyone comes here and it is very crowded. The fashions were shown and I feel quite provincial. London is out of fashion. You did laugh at my hair style because it was too high.

I blush because it is not high enough. Lady Castle wears a garden in hers with bright plumes adorning it. She introduced me to Sir Roger Newberry, a pretty beau. He inquired if I were to be at the ball Tuesday next and if he could have the first minuet? He smelled of a scent that was new to me, and is most gallant. Lady Mary did not feel well so we soon departed and had tea at home.

I sit here now for a few minutes' rest as I must soon dress for the theatre tonight. I will continue this on the morrow but for now goodbye.

Ever thine friend, Betsy.

JANE BAKER, 1937

DIRT to small son—Go wash your hands, dear.

MOTHER Little boy—Why should I? They'll only get dirty again.

Mother—Oh, but you must have clean hands for supper because then you won't get germs in your food. Germs will make you sick, you know, and you wouldn't like that to happen.

Little boy—My puppy doesn't wash his paws and he doesn't get sick. He's eating his supper now with his feet all covered with dirt where he's been digging.

Mother—But darling, he doesn't touch his food with his paws.

Little boy—Well, neither do I. I eat with a spoon and besides Fritz gets his paws in his food sometimes and then he licks them, dirt and all.

Mother—Well, you aren't a dog, and your hands have to be clean, so go wash them.

Little boy—No, I won't. I know a boy who eats without having to wash his hands and he doesn't have to take baths.

Mother—There might be some boys in this world like that, but you aren't one of them so you had better go wash your hands.

Little boy—Yes'm, but when I grow up I'll be as dirty as I want and nobody will tell me to be clean because I won't listen to them.

EDITH KINNICUTT, 1939

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THE HUNT Early at dawning Bright from my bed Forth to the forest For I was to witness We started out, striding The kindliest creatures Followed our footsteps Four hounds of the hearthside Forth from its lair Smelling its footsteps Baying and barking The sure-footed fox Straight toward the lake side Rapidly running Bounds over bushes Turning and twisting The keen nosed and clever Trixie the terrible Bravest of beagles Leading the larger Untwisting the tangled steps Farther and fainter The craftiest creature Striving to shake the dogs Hard on his heels Seeking to save himself Suddenly showing Tawny of body Up comes the gun Bang! breaks the shot He lies where he leaped Broken the back Lying lead-filled The dogs spring upon him We hasten to handle Bearing him back The dogs with tails waving

when daylight meets darkness I did break my repose. and fields I did hasten a battle of wits. with steadiest pace. the hounds bent on killing in friendliest manner. hunting the wary, the four frightened a fox. they started in running to bring down their prey. in swiftness depending turning his path. the red-coated robber and breaks through the branches. attempting to tire chasers of red coats. tiny and tawny barking defiance less clever, less skillful. tricks of the wise. the sound falls upon us. is circling the lake sticking like leeches he bears them approach straight into death, he streaks through the bushes tail tipped with snow. greatest giver of death toward his bright body. life having left him. of the beautiful creature cross the brook in the leaves. striving to shake him. the spoils of the hunt. all bloody and gory, triumphant trot homeward.

BARBARA EMMONS, 1938

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SHAG you brute,.and that!"

44T Therethat, was a grating, metallic sound, and then a snarl that had in it AKE

rage and a note of pain.

Stanley Burrows, a tall dark haired boy of about sixteen, turned the corner of the icy street quickly to see a gaunt wolf-dog backed against the snowy wall of a cabin, and facing him a heavily clothed man with a stout chain in his hand. The chain was stained with blood, and clinging to it were tufts of matted hair.

The man, scowling, glanced at Stan and back at the dog, whose ruff bristled suggestively and whose fangs were bared.

"You will steal, will you?" The slouching figure advanced a step or two and raised the chain, the dog continuing to growl.

"What's the trouble, Snake?"

Snake Blane—Black Snake he was called in Nome from his swarthy skin and heavy dark brows that met over his small furtive eyes—answered gruffly.

"Trouble enough. I've been missing grub from my shack for the last week—dried salmon I keep in there for my team. And now," he made a gesture toward the culprit, "I've caught him in the act." A half-eaten fish lying in the snow was proof of the crime.

Stan feeling sorry for the dog tried to establish an alibi.

"He looks terribly hungry, Snake. And when they're like that they just have to have food, no matter how they get it. And you know you can't get any place by beating a starving dog. Who owns him, anyway? I haven't seen him around here before."

"Nobody now. He did belong to Bill Johnson of Teller," Snake answered ill-humoredly. "Bill was brought down to the hospital here and died of pneumony last week. Jim Stanton, who lives across Moose River, next t' the cemetery, was passing a while ago, and he told me the dog ain't budged from Bill's grave since the fun'ral, 'cept when he leaves t' steal. He wouldn't let Jim near him, or he'd got fed proper, the ornery beast."

"Poor fellow!" Stan moved over to the husky, whose eyes glared for an instant into his own. Then, with a whimper that punishment had not brought, the dog licked the friendly hand held out to him.

"If he doesn't belong to anyone now," Stan said slowly, "I'll take him home with me. My Mother'll let me keep him." The man sullenly assented and the boy walked away, the dog limping beside him.

When they had gone a short distance the boy stopped to look the dog over. The chain had slashed the flesh in several places, through the silver gray coat; on his nose was a broad welt from a blow, and blood came in a steady stream from a deep cut on one flank. While he winced as Stan passed his hand over the hurt body, the dog offered no resistance to the examination.

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"You're all right," Stan gave him a reassuring pat, "and Mother will fix you up like she does me when I bark my shins. We'll forget that little run-in we had with Snake." They walked quite a distance and at last reached his home, a neatly painted cabin on the edge of the town.

He went very soberly up the path. All his life he had wanted a dog and as he grew older it was more important that he have one. All the boys had full teams, which consisted of five huskies, and there was a great deal of friendly rivalry among them. There was, however, one exception which was the big fall race. To win one of these races was the greatest honor a boy could have. It proved the winner's skill as a driver and made him respected by all the famous men drivers. Stan belonged to the club of juvenile teamsters only because of his ability to drive on short notice any team in Nome with marvelous skill. He had always wanted a team and this poor dog seemed to be the start. But, after all, would his mother be willing to let him keep the dog? It would be another mouth to feed and things had not been going very well with them lately. Every cent of income she made by giving lessons in French was being saved to develop the mine that his father had owned. It would take a lot of whale meat to cover these bones.

"Mother, I've brought a friend home to dinner." He pushed the dog into the lighted space by the stove.

Mrs. Burrows, surprised, stepped back involuntarily. "He looks like a timber wolf. Is he savage?"

"No, he's scared and that makes him look wild." And he swiftly told her of Snake's cruelty.

"You'd better feed him at once," Mrs. Burrows said as she began to set the table. "You'll find a dish of scraps under the table. I was saving them for my friend, Rex, next door. I don't know how I'll be able to explain to him that he can't expect anything from me this evening. He'll be disappointed."

"He doesn't need it, Mother. He's too well fed at home. Fat as a seal.

But this poor fellow—." Stan picked up the pan and went out in the back yard where, in the shelter of a snowdrift, he watched the dog eat ravenously.

Satisfied at last, and wagging his plumy tail in gratitude, Shag—as he was now called—followed Stan into the house and lay by him quietly during dinner. ..

When the table was cleared and the dishes washed, Stan settled himself on the couch under the reading lamp, the dog still crouching at his feet.

Three hours later, his studying done, he brought up the subject of the dog. "May he stay with us, Mother? Just see how much he likes me already. He's young and strong, and he'll make a bully sled dog, maybe a leader. You know it's my duty to the club to own at least one dog."

The husky's steady gaze was fixed with pathetic trust on her son's face, and a lump came in Mrs. Burrows throat at the sight of the matted blood

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on the gray coat and the deep gash on the flank. A boy and a dog—by right of tradition they belonged together, her husband had always said.

"Yes," she answered thoughtfully, "He's yours. We'll manage some way."

The next morning a thundering knock was heard on the cabin door.

Stan looked out the window and stared. Then, "Moose!" he exclaimed, as he dashed hurriedly toward the door followed by his Mother.

Moose Jones, Mr. Burrows' best friend and aid in mining, greeted Stan's Mother cordially and regarded him carefully in the bright sunlight.

"You sure hey shot up in the last six months, son. More like your dad than ever: just as wiry, but taller. Better go slow, or you'll be ez big ez me, someday, an' folks '11 call you Moose the second."

"That won't hurt my feelings." Stan laughed. "But look, I've got a surprise for you." And he led the dog over to him.

"Well, I'll be blowed. Where'd you get your little playmate? He looks like he oughta be in the emergency ward at the Holy Cross Horspital." He ran expert hands over the dog's body. "Where'd you find him?" On hearing the tale Moose grinned widely. "Well, son, you sure picked a winner.

I thought I'd seen this here critter before. His Grandpappy won the Alaskan National four years ago and this dog's got the makin' of a naeral born leader. To-morra we'll go to town and see what we can do about a sled and such things. Now don't you worry none about the expense."

This to a worried Mrs. Burrows. "The dog will pay for it hi'self. You jest wait an' see."

Next day found Moose, Stan, and Shag at Stimpson's shop. Shag was fitted to the finest harness that could be bought—a padded collar of tan leather, and light webbing of the same shade for the traces, with a little whiffletree of hardwood, finished at the ends in polished brass. As in racing outfits, there was a coiled spring between this and the sled, so that flexibility was insured and a sudden jerk eased of any discomfort.

A sled was next for consideration, and they went to the Eskimo Mission, where the native men and boys were given manual training. Sled building was one of their accomplishments.

A sled made of stout, well seasoned hickory was selected. The lines were graceful, copied from a racing model; and while it was small, it was large enough to carry a passenger or a light load, yet not too big for Shag to draw easily.

Shag turned out to be a real sled dog and in a few weeks was pulling it like a veteran. Stan earned money by delivering packages for a friend of his mother after school. He liked this because he was making money and it was excellent for the dog. The cold air had frozen the surface of the trails and they were in fine condition and whenever possible Stan took Shag and the sled on long runs.

One morning Stan stepped out on the porch just in time to see a very strange sight. Shag was walking up the walk proud as a peacock leading

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a bedraggled malamute behind him. The bit of chewed rope on the newcomer's neck told the story. Stan fed the dog and went over to Moose's cabin to tell him. As he neared the cabin he heard peculiar noises. Moose met him at the door.

"Well, son, I've got a big su'prise fer ya. Come on in here." Stan stepped into the tiny room and stopped short. There on the floor were three thin huskies not unlike Shag in build.

"Moose, where did you get them! Whose are they? What—" "Hold yer bosses, boy, wait a minute and I'll explain. In th' fust place the're yourn. I got 'em from that half-breed that was jailed. There was anuther but he disappeared. The man give 'em t' me fer practically nuthin.'

Ef we cm n find the other we'll have a 'hole team."

Stan was speechless with joy. No doubt the dog at the house was the run away. After a while he talked over with Moose the prospect of getting more harnesses and then returned to his cabin. That night sleep was long in coming. He had a full team! He could enter the fall race! Three months to train the dogs!

"Hi, Shag, mush! Step on it, Bags! Move on, Rags! Get along, pups!"

It was three days before the race. The dogs moved in perfect step. Stan was proud of his team. The twin pups at the wheel pulled together as one.

Rags and Bags, the next pair, were plucky clean through and stuck out the hardest trips. And Shag was perfection. A real leader. At the slightest command he would turn compelling his teammates to follow and they had faith in him. The one and only combination for the ideal team. "Haw, Shag!" With one movement the team turned to the left and home. When they arrived Stan ran to Moose.

"It's wonderful the way they save their speed," he told him, "I took them on a ten mile run and when we came home we were going twice as fast as when we left. I only hope they don't get scared with all the excitement."

"Don't you worry none, son," was Moose's advice, "Shag's as cool as a champion. He'll lead 'em through. And even if ya don't win it's only ya fust race and ya sure will learn a lot."

It was a clear cold day. Just right for the race. Instead of electric suspense the air was filled with good-natured joking. But to the contestants it was a moment of vital importance. The course was marked for 12 miles across the snow crusted tundra. A bugle note signaled that the race was to begin.

All of Nome crowded near the barrier calling last minute warnings to their favorites.

"Remember, boys," the field marshal stepped forward, "A fast team behind a slow one may call for the right of way; the slower one must pull to one side far enough so that the faster, approaching from the rear, may pass safely and easily."

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"Good luck t' ya Stan!" Moose roared.

Just then the Mayor announced, "twenty seconds, ten, five, go!"

The flag dipped and they were all off, cheers ringing in their ears. Stan got off to a flying start and was well up front. He was glad that Shag had not been flustered by all the patting before the race. After a mile or so Stan decided to speed up. "Let 'er go, Shag!" The leader easily increased his speed. And so it was for ten miles. Now was the time to really speed up. "Now, Shag, for the big mush. Full speed ahead!" The boy's encouraging tone had its effect. The dogs tugged in the harnesses, every muscle taut. On they sped, outrunning Hienz Hounds, the Beef Eaters, and then the Siberians. Only the Red Devils were holding their own and for a brief while the huskies ran neck and neck in a gallant fight for supremacy.

Slowly the huskies drew ahead, inches, feet, yards. Victory was surely Stan's. Shag was too much for them all. He'd show them—he'd— There was a sudden whirring sound, a crash, and a sharp yelp of pain.

Shag dropped in his tracks, a gush of blood from a jagged wound in his side staining the snow around him. The other dogs stood helpless beside their fallen mate.

In an instant Stan was kneeling beside Shag trying to stop that flow of blood with his handkerchief. A pointed stick had been thrown with deadly accuracy.

Instinctively, he unhooked the dog and lifted him gently into the sled.

Help for Shag was his main concern. The race was forgotten. He was still ahead but he did not care. Mechanically he called, "Mush," and his team started.

From the rear the other teams swept onward—were beside him. It was anyone's race.

Stan could hear the excited cries of the crowd: "Come on, you Red Devils, come on! I'll bet on the Huskies. They'll pull through." But the Huskies without their commander wavered and fell back a trifle.

Less than fifty yards to the stand. Stan leaned over and patted Shag.

The touch roused the dog. He gave a dazed look about him, then he suddenly hurled himself out of the sled. He struggled, sank to his haunches, rose, staggered an instant, and then plunged forward. He was once more at the front, a loose leader.

Though the watchers could not tell just what happened, they knew that something had gone wrong, and that Shag was making a desperate attempt to succeed for his master. Cheer after cheer broke from them.

"Stop, Shag, stop!" Stan cried frantically, but it was too late for obedience. The dog was wild with excitement. There was a flying leap, a flash of stained silver and sable, and a deafening roar from the crowd that surged toward him.

The boy did not hear the judge's clear voice—"Stanley Burrows wins!"

He did not see his mother nor see a beaten, bruised, Snake Blaine in the

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terrible grasp of Moose Jones. He only saw a heap of gray in a crimson pool just over the line that marked the end of the course. His eyes filled with tears as he grasped the weakly proffered paw of the best leader of them all!

BETSY STINSON, 1939

MUSIC OF THE RAIN and light the raindrops SWIFT Patter on my window pane;

patter,

On the shingles clatter, clatter, Sweet the music of the rain.

Blowing now among the tree-tops, Rushing down the winding lane, Pouring streams instead of rain-drops— Hush! the music of the rain.

Wildly now it howls, and wilder Roaring like a beast in pain; Then descending mild and milder.

Strange the music of the rain.

BETSY STINSON, 1939

SOPHOMORE FRENCH CLASS

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PURPLE SHADOWS layer of snow crackled like leaves coated with a sparkling THEfrostcrispas thin I stepped on it. Making my way to the swing, I watched the saucy clouds blown in front of the moon by a mischievous breeze. The stars shone mysteriously through a moving veil of smoky purple cloud.

The moon made the snow a golden-orange and on this purple shadows made fantastic designs. A bush with a little ice on it caught and held a bit of the moon's light and then laughing threw it back. The poplars, usually tall and stately, unbent and nodded gracefully to a tall elm that was trying to untangle its shadow from other purple designs but was absent-minded and forgot.

The purple shadows bowed, writhed, bent, and nodded on the goldenorange snow.

SUZANNE SIGOURNEY, 1938

FOG You wake up in the morning and it's cold and “wHAW-R-R-R." damp. The bed clothes are wet and even the walls are steaming.

"Whaw-r-r-r," horrid sound! You raise yourself up on one elbow and look out the window—then you really see it! Fog! Heavy, thick, white steaming mist, moving in great waves around everything. Enormous, heaving, impenetrable clouds. You get up and put on damp clothes, and when you pick up your toothbrush it is soggy. So you throw it down and skip your teeth. At breakfast the shredded-wheat is rubbery and the salt won't come out of the shakers. So you don't eat much. You try a banana but the black skin is so uninviting that you put that back, too. Nobody says much.

One just looks out the window and tries to pierce through the fog. The cat wanders aimlessly around trying to decide whether the chance of a mouse is worth going out for. It goes to the door and sniffs—wet and damp— s° it lies under the stove instead and tries to pretend it's happy, but its tail droops.

When the family is through breakfast, the dishes are washed and supposedly wiped—with a wet towel. The beds are made and then everybody tries to pretend he is busy, with one eye out of the window watching the fog for signs of lifting. You finish your breakfast and wander about. You pick up a book but instead of reading you keep thinking how much you want to play tennis or go swimming. If only the sun would come out! Finally, you decide you must do something. So you put on a heavy sweater and a raincoat and decide to go out. Somebody sees you on the way and tells you to get your rubbers. You don't think you need them because you have sneakers on. You say you can't find them, anyway. Then there's an argu-

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ment and everybody takes their gloom and pent-up feelings out on you. Of course, you lose your temper, too, and the cat saunters in to find out what it's all about. After arguing a long while and getting madder and madder at everything in general, you yell at everyone and go stamping out of the house—with your rubbers on.

It's worse out than in. You turn your collar up and look around you, nothing but mist, mist and more mist! You want very much to take your rubbers off but you see that the grass is really wet and decide that perhaps you do need them after all. You just look at the mist some more. It begins to rain a little bit, but you don't care. You think perhaps it will clear the fog up, but it doesn't. It rains a few minutes and then stops, but the fog is still there. Finally, it gets unbearable: you become desperate. There must be something to do. All kinds of thoughts enter your mind. You walk down the path to the beach. On the way all the water from the leaves drips down the space between your collar and your neck. You finally get to the beach. The fog looks even worse. You approach the water and contemplate drowning yourself. But the water is cold and gray. You stare down into it thinking gloomy thoughts. Then all of a sudden something makes you look up and through a tiny hole in the fog you see the sun! You rush back to the house again and encounter the cat going out.

The family is very pleasant and you tell them that you are sorry for the argument and agree that you did need your rubbers. But no one cares or listens. The sun is out!

PAMELA MITCHELL, 1939

9:45 CONCENTRATION O MINDS of good intent, vainly trying to concentrate on what the value of x is, the melodic strains of the "Blue Danube" are strangely distracting. Fingers begin to beat time, heads sway and pretty soon one realizes one has not the faintest inkling of what has been so painstakingly explained.

Concentration on perfect trinomial squares ensues, but the deep strains of "In the Halls of the Mountain King" prove the more interesting. These quickly change to "The Flight of the Bumble Bee" and a sound that closely resembles a siren comes issuing from below, mingled with the voice of the teacher calling your name. You find your place, grateful to your neighbor who has a finger on the example. Strict attention is paid until the stirring march from "Aida" carries you completely away to the colorful stage of an opera house. The music stops, feet and voices are heard dying in the distance.

Class One's gym period is over!

JANE BAKER, 1937

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JUST FOR A BOOK once more. You might as well 'cause you certainly won't 4 40 getTRY a book this way."

H,

"All right. Just once more." I heaved a tremendous sigh and stuck my weary finger into the dial for the hundredth time.

"4-6-0-6-4. Gosh, I'll be saying that number in my sleep. . . . Hello . . . . (Hurrah! I've got a clerk) . . . Book Department, please. Thank you . . (It's about time. It's lucky I tr—.) Hello—could I speak to Miss Cunningham? No, not Miss Funnylamb—Cunningham—C-u-yes, that's right. She's busy? Well, never mind, you'll do just as well. I wanted to know if you had a book by the name of 'Long Ears and a Tail.' It's a dog story. I don't know who it's by. (Do you know, Anne?). I think it's by a Scotchman. Mac somebody maybe. You haven't got it? Oh dear. Thank you just the same. Goodby."

"Well, that's that . . . unless you feel like going down town and getting it. We could try Denholm's. Want to?"

"Yes. We can try it anyway. It's a funny name for a book. They'd probably think we'd escaped from the Insane Asylum if we popped up and asked a clerk if she had long ears and a tail."

"Oh, Anne. We wouldn't have to ask for it that way. Well, let's tell Mother we're on our way."

She sympathized with us having to go way down town in a snow storm.

But we struggled into our heavy coats and warm scarfs and cheerfully opened the front door to be welcomed by a whirlwind of snow in our faces. We slammed the door and cleverly stepped knee-deep into a pile of slush.

"Heh, heh. Nice day," Anne managed to splutter out. And so we continued on our way to Denholm's.

All this trouble for Harry, a little brother who was over-enthusiastic about dogs.

After practically sliding upside-down down Walnut Street we landed breathless on Main Street, only to find we weren't the only ones to have the "Christmas Spirit" in mind. I still can't understand why people had decided to go shopping just the day I had chosen to go.

Although it was only about four-thirty, all the store windows were brilliantly illuminated with bright lights and decorated with red trimmings and wreaths—to say nothing about the displays of Christmas gifts. So after our undignified descent to Main Street we gaily started our rough pilgrimage to Denholm's. The mob was so thick that one couldn't even see the sidewalk.

My hat was knocked off twice and Anne lost a mitten for good. If it hadn't been for those cheerful Santa Clauses patiently ringing bells I'm afraid we'd have lost our tempers and ploughed through the jostling crowds, head down. But as it was we held our tempers, and finally after much

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pushing and shoving we managed to arrive at our destination. It was hopeless to get in an elevator so we tackled the stairs. I sincerely wish Mothers wouldn't bring their two-year-olds to stores with them. We joined a slow procession upstairs behind a fat old woman hauling her short-legged child after her. But at last we were rewarded by seeing in the near distance the BOOKS sign. The idea of getting a book for a Christmas gift was not exactly an original one either. Fifty other people had had the same idea.

I finally dragged a clerk out of the crowd and asked her for the wanted book. (I didn't ask her if she had long ears and a tail). I nearly fainted when she said she had three more copies. I produced the money and got the book! What a relief. In the meantime Anne had been "North to the Orient" with Anne M. Lindbergh. She -had a feeling" her mother would like the book. With an order to me to -stay here" she dove into the mob.

Five minutes later she came out, the book in her hand and a triumphant grin on her face. We made our way out of the store and onto the crowded sidewalk. I don't think I ever was so glad to get some fresh air in my lungs in my life!

In spite of the crowd on Main Street, we quite enjoyed our walk home, but nevertheless it was comforting to see the lights of home and then to open the door and fling ourselves into the nearest chairs and rest our tired feet.

After lying thus for a sufficient length of time, we took off our coats and unwrapped the books. For two solid minutes we gazed at them with loving eyes. We felt they were relics of a war.

"Dossieee." Mother appeared.

"Did you get what you went down for?"

We nodded and I held up the book.

"What's the name of it?" she asked.

I told her and was much astonished with her undignified reply: -Heavens!"

Then to my great relief she explained herself.

"I just read an advertisement of that book in the paper and I thought Harry might like it so I called up Denholm's and ordered it. They just sent it up a few minutes ago."

"Ooohhh"—by this time I had collapsed and Anne was on the floor groaning. When I fully recovered I looked at Mother and said, "Thank Heavens Christmas comes only once a year."

DOROTHY DEWEY, 1939

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LATIN AUTOBIOGRAPHY WITH TRANSLATIONS movere plurimum, sed

unum eram bona, quod non poteram ANNUM clamabam et familiam agitabam.—For one year I was good, because I

was not able to move very much, but I cried and disturbed the family.

Postquam gradi novi, in periculum semper cadebam. Terram mu(tarn habebamus et cane lictore defendebar.—After I learned to walk, I was always getting into trouble. We had much land and I was protected by a police dog.

Vir ut pattern meum videret in carro novo venit. Carrum non amavi, itaque eum album pinxi.—A man came to see my father in a new auto. I didn't like his car, and so I painted it white. Carrum non amavi album, ita rotas carri rubras pinxi.—I didn't like the car white, so I painted the wheels of the car red. Quando pater meus eum vidit, poenam accepi.—When my father saw it, I received punishment. Puella parva multa noscenda habet!— A little girl has many things to learn!

Uno die pater meus mihi carrum canum emit.—One day my father bought me a dog cart. "Fragmenta" per vias carrum traxit et in animis bonis eram.

—"Scraps- dragged the cart over the roads and I was in good spirits. Sed "Fragmenta" interfectus est et mihi gradiendum erat ad ludum ubi ibam.— But "Scraps- died and I had to walk to school when I went. Ludum non amavi quod eram mala, et magistri me non amaverunt.—I didn't like school because I was bad and the teachers didn't like me. Famae meae erant malae et domum multum missa sum.—My reports were bad and I was sent home a great deal. Eram puella mala sed id amabam.—I was a bad girl but I liked it.

Ubi septem fui, catervam puerorum iunxi quod frater meus erat dux.— When I was seven, I joined a gang of boys because my brother was leader.

Vita facilis non erat quod pueri valuerunt et parva fui, sed pericula amavi.— The life was not easy because the boys were strong and I was small, but I loved the dangers. Officium meum fuit facere pedicas quae caperent cuniculos et quaedam animalia quae male olent.—My duty was to make traps to catch rabbits and certain animals which smell bad. Id amavi et animalia quae cepimus pecuniam tulerunt.—I loved this and the animals which we caught brought money. Post annum pecuniam magnum habui quae servaveram.— After a year I had much money which I had saved. Nunc quod pecuniam habui, quid emerem?—Now that I had money, what should I buy?

BETSY STINSON, 1939

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SILVERY NIGHT moon swept the silvery sea, THEAndsilvery in silvery ripples played in glee: The silvery leaves on the silvery trees Swayed to the swish of the silvery breeze.

A sea gull glided on his silvery wing, And a nightingale on his silvery note did sing: A myriad of silver stars glittered above, And a dove flew by with his silvery love.

MARJORIE MURCHISON, 1939

THE WATCH southwest breeze was blowing through the great steel girders of A HOT the fire tower swaying it a little as it blew. Far below it touched the pine trees with its hot fingers and withered the underbrush to a brown color.

The sun was just starting its downward journey toward the west and was at its hottest. The shrill cry of the locust was the only sound except the roar of the wind, which was less audible today.

At the top of the tower, the door of the inclosed platform opened and a tall, thin but strong looking boy in khaki pants and shirt descended to the first landing and stretched out on the cool metal bars and gazed off to the distant hills. His light curly hair was blown about by the breeze and his handsome tanned face showed the results of days in the open.

-Hey, Bob!" he called, -Come on out. It's much cooler, we can watch for signs of fire just as well here if you bring out the glasses."

-Dr. Burns told us to be sure to keep careful watch when it was so dry and besides here he comes up the trail now and he can spot you if you're out on the platform. Better come in," counseled his companion, who was older and more used to the work of ranger and to the ways of Dr. Burns.

"Oh, all right. I'll come in but I don't see why Dr. Burns takes it into his head to come out walking on the hottest day in the year. If I were him I'd stay at home on the cool porch and drink ginger ale," said Ted in a disgusted voice as he climbed up the stairs again.

"I can see you,- mocked Bob, -reclining in a hammock with two cases of ginger ale and a bucket of ice. The mighty Dr. Edward Williams in person."

"I guess I'd rather be a ranger. His job is awfully hard," said Ted pointing to the figure now half way up the tower, "but he sure does it well."

Dr. Burns was a tall, active-looking man with iron-gray hair and a short pointed beard. He never left all the work of running the forestry school

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and keeping the woods in shape to his subordinates but took an active part as he was now in coming to see how Bob and Ted were getting along, and to find out if there was anything that needed his attention.

The boys were standing at the west side of the platform as Dr. Burns entered from the east.

"Good afternoon, sir," both boys said together.

"How goes it with you two boys up here? Rather hot, isn't it?" said the doctor looking at the boys' flushed faces.

"Yes, sir," said Ted, "very, whew!" he took out a big handkerchief from his pocket.

"Oh, sir, there seems to be some disturbance among the birds down in that brush to the right," said Bob pointing to the place and handing the Doctor his field glasses. "I don't know what is causing it."

"So I see, so I see," answered Dr. Brown slowly as he studied the spot through the glasses. "Birds have been known to do that when there is a fire but I can't see any smoke so I imagine some animal or person has frightened them. Well, I must go on down and see about a new spray for gipsy moths. Oh, yes, Ted, will you come over and see if you can make friends with that young fox sometime, and you can see if the young deer have moved away from the paddock fence."

"I'd love to, sir." Ted answered warmly, for taming wild animals and watching them in their own habitats was his favorite occupation.

About half an hour later Ted broke the silence that had enfolded them by saying, "Bob, come over here a minute, will you?" As Bob obliged, Ted looked intently at the same patch of brush. "I think I see smoke there," he said excitedly, "but I can't make sure. Shall I turn in the alarm or wait?"

Bob who had taken the glasses answered, "Wai . . . turn in that alarm— the place has flared up and looks as if it would continue for a while. Tell them to send everything they've got, and you'd better telephone the village fire department—such as it is.,, After doing this Ted said, "What about those deer that have just been turned out?" and at the same time slammed down the receiver and dashed to the window for a second look. "They won't have sense enough to go through the brush while it's still not burning too much and the paddock gate on the other side of them is closed. They are trapped."

"I could go down there and open the gate while you stay here to keep the authorities in touch with the progress of the fire," suggested Bob. "Oh no, I wouldn't let you risk yourself like that. If two people went, one could help the other. Come on, let's go," replied Ted pulling Bob toward the stairs as he picked a piece of fire-fighting apparatus that could be carried on the back.

"That isn't so good either because it's a rule that someone has to stay in the tower," argued Bob. "Oh, hang the tower," exploded Ted, "with the lives of a dozen deer at

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stake, you still are afraid to disobey in an emergency like this. You know that all the men are miles away from the school and that nobody will think of opening the gate. What are a few extra trees to the pain the poor little animals would have to suffer." With this last appeal Ted was off down the stairs.

"But what will Dr. Burns say?" expostulated Bob weakly as he dashed after Ted. When they reached the ground Ted started on a bee-line for the gate.

Through bushes and over rocks they scrambled tearing their clothes and scratching their faces. Pretty soon they began to smell smoke and then as they advanced, it came in great choking clouds.

"Put your handherchief over your nose and mouth," gasped Ted, between breaths, as they plunged on.

They began to notice small flames and soon they had to be careful where they stepped.

"Around this way," yelled Bob skirting a bush and finding an opening on the now almost solid wall of burning brush. On they plunged. It seemed like an eternity until the flames got less frequent but then a new evil sought them in the form of thick yellow clouds of smoke from some green wood that had caught fire. Stopping near a small trickle of water, Bob soaked his handkerchief, and bid Ted follow his example.

"You all right?" he questioned as Ted staggered up to him.

"I—I guess so," muttered Ted in response, "if it wasn't for those confounded burning bushes. A branch fell on my hand."

"Too bad, old man, but we're nearly there so let's get on," answered Bob sympathetically as they plowed on.

After five more minutes Ted, who had taken the lead again, shouted, "Here's the gate, and all twelve deer are here plus about two dozen rodents.

Ow! the gate is hot and the fire has spread beyond a bit so we've got to work."

Bob caught up to him and with much straining and pulling they got the gate open.

"Whew!" breathed Bob when the job was done, "come on you animals —there's the way out of your troubles."

"Oh, is it though?" said Ted. "We're up a tree, Bob. The fire has spread through the fence and the animals won't go forwards anymore than backwards. The only reason they are safe here is because what's left of that little brook flows past here and the sphagnum moss around the edges is too damp to catch fire."

"Right you are," answered Bob, "pick up a stick and drive them through.

That's all we can do."

It was easier said than done. The deer were frightened and kept wanting to get back to the only place free from the flames which were an ever lurking menace to the boys as they swept up from behind. If it hadn't been for the

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fairly tame behavior of the deer they could never have been driven to final safety in the pasture at the head of the road up to the school.

With a sigh of relief the boys sank down on the porch steps.

"Wonder why some of the men aren't down where we were, fighting the fire. They should be. It might spread," asked Ted in a worried voice.

"Ted," Bob almost yelled, "there were no classes today and so nobody is at the school. We've got to go down and fight that fire or it will catch the school."

From then on neither of them could remember what happened. All they knew was that they worked for hours and that finally they had found themselves in the infirmary. Doctor Burns was speaking, "I will never trust those villagers to get aid up here quickly. Their two teams were an hour late and when they did get here they were driven by two boys that didn't know the first thing about fire fighting." He said this to the surgeon of the school.

"Was it all right to leave the tower under those circumstances, sir?" queried Bob, "You won't remove our privileges, will you?"

"No, of course not. That was a good piece of work you two did. You not only saved the deer but also the school building. But I wouldn't advise you to do it again. I will have a good set of fire fighting apparatus soon and you must always stick to your post."

EDITH KINNICUTT, 1939

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SCHOLARSHIP HONORS 1935

UPPER SCHOOL Gage Medal Bancroft Medal Students having an average of 90 or above

Mary Ellen Mowbray Margery Ann Williams Anne Bigelow Martha Esty Louise Erskine ,Carol Churchman

MIDDLE SCHOOL Gage Medal Bancroft Medal

David Hoffman Phyllis Massey

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Standing (left to right): Pamela Mitchell, Elizabeth Young.

Sitting (left to right): Barbara Gummere, Barbara Emmons, Mary Lee Sparrow, Miss Fisher, Phyllis Massey, Dorothy Dean, Frances Dresser.

THE COUNCIL Dorothy Dean, '36, President Barbara Gummere, '36, Secretary Barbara Emmons, '38 Mary Lee Sparrow, '37 Pamela Mitchell, '39 Frances Dresser, '37 Phyllis Massey, '39 Elizabeth Young, '38 Miss Fisher, Faculty Advisor

Left to right: Carol Churchman, Virginia Mudge, Mary Annis Haskell, Miss Blair, Anne Bigelow.

BLUE MOON BOARD Mary Annis Haskell, '36, Editor-in-Chief Helen Hunter, '37, Assistant Editor Carol Churchman, '36, Business Manager Anne Bigelow, '38, Assistant Business Manager Virginia Mudge, Art Editor Miss Blair, Faculty Advisor ART WORK Title Page—Virginia Mudge Middle and Lower Schools—Barbara Gummere Faculty—Joan Oak Activities—Mary Annis Haskell Literature—Barbara Perkins

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COMMITTEES THE SOCIAL COMMITTEE Barbara Heywood, '37, Chairman Anne Day, '37 Penelope Allen, '38 Jane Baker, '37 Charlotte Dunbar, '38 Virginia Pomeroy, '37 Nancy Hutchins, '38 Mary Lee Sparrow, '37 Rachel Stevens, '38 Miss Estee, Faculty Advisor Events Sponsored by Social Committee: Blue Moon Fair Luncheon Sandwich Sale School Dance

December 7 February 11 May 9

THE COMMUNITY CHEST Ruth Windle, '37, Chairman Shirley Eccleston, '36 Barbara Emmons, '38 Nancy Campbell, '37 Martha Prouty, '39 Anne Cook, '38 Edith Kinnicutt, '39 Miss Smith, Faculty Advisor

the Community Chest tried a new system for collecting money.

THISWeyearplaced in every room a bank in which the pupils put money.

The money was collected every week and the results were read in assembly. We feel that this system has been successful in that it has made everyone here at school conscious of the Community Chest. With $87.75 on hand from last year, and after having collected $193.67 we had a total of $281.42 at our disposal. As usual we gave a hundred dollar scholarship to Hampton, and contributed to the Worcester Community Chest. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, food and clothing were given to the Associated Charities and to different hospitals. After the flood, we were asked to help with money. The whole school responded to the plea and we collected $59.00 in one week.

The Committee wishes to thank the entire school for giving so generously.

RUTH WINDLE, Chairman

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THE LIBRARY COMMITTEE Helen Hunter, '37, Chairman Nancy Campbell, '37 Doreen Wise, '37 Louise Erskine, '38 Virginia MacFarland, '38 Miss Blair, Faculty

Dorothy Dewey, '39 Pamela Mitchell, '39 Marjorie Murchison, '39 Betsy Stinson, '39 Advisor

with the enthusiastic cooperation of the whole school, we have THIShadyear, great success. Five hundred and fifty-one books have been accessioned, thus almost completing the main library. Two hundred and twentyone books have been given to us since last June, and we have bought 17 books. Quite a few of these have gone to help swell the lower school library which is taken care of by lower school pupils. Also we have started this year a loan library in which are the latest books of fiction and non-fiction, which we could not have had otherwise. This year we have more than doubled the number of books accessioned which is greatly due to the excellent cooperation given us by Mrs. Kennedy and Miss McEnery. The Library Committee itself has so unfailingly done its share in thorough checking that we have lost only two books the whole year. Many people have donated books, and we should like to thank them for their interest: Mrs. Frank Dresser (New Webster's Unabridged Dictionary), Barbara Goodwin, Barbara Perkins, Dorothy Dean, Anna Mattison, Anne Cook, Cecile de Banke, Joan Kinsley, Edward Kinsley, Mrs. Sigourney, Suzanne Sigourney, Mrs. Lincoln, Mrs. E. F. Hoskins, Mrs. F. W. McEnery, Mrs. Harry Stoddard, Alumnae Association, Sophomore English Class, and the American Antiquarian Society.

HELEN HUNTER, Chairman

THE CENSUS COMMITTEE Jane Baker, '37, Chairman Doreen Wise, '37 Irene McLaurin, '38 Mary Spaulding, '39 Miss Clark, Faculty Advisor

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GLEE CLUB Frances Omar Weeks, Director Jane Bowker, Accompanist Priscilla Martin, '36, President Joan Ashey, '38, Secretary Elizabeth Forbes, '37, Treasurer Suzanne Sigourney, '38, Librarian Elizabeth Laselle, '39, Assistant Librarian

NATIONAL MUSIC WEEK PROGRAM MAY 4, 1936 CLASS VII Greek Choral Dance—danced by Seventh Grade Girls Hebrew Folk Song Elijah, the Prophet!

CLASS VIII Medieval Gregorian Chant Medieval Hymn CLASSES VII AND VIII Go Down Moses Swing Low, Sweet Chariot Negro Spirituals The Magnet and Churn, from "Patience" Sullivan CLASS VI Episodes in American History: 1. What the Pilgrims Found The Medicine Man Indian Piano accompaniment by David Adams Tom-tom accompaniment by Virginia Cobb 2. Life in the Southern Colonies Minuet—Danced by Barbara Jordan, Judy Wise, Philip Alton and David Adams 3. Life on the Plantation Shortnin' Bread Negro Mammy Song Goin' to Shout Negro Spiritual Accompanied on the piano by Philip Alton 4. Life in the Mountains Grandma Grunts 5. Westward Trek Wagon Wheels Night Herding Song Cowboy Songs 6. Transportation Improved The Erie Canal Medley for Rhythm Band Patriotic 7.

Conducted by Peter Morgan

EAGER-H EA RI

By A. M. Bucton PRESENTED DEC. 1 9, 1935 GLEE CLUB CHOIR CAST P. Allen C. Churchman M. A. Williams Eager-Heart M. Esty E. Lassell F. Dresser Eager-Fame Eager-Sense M. Murchison R. Stevens M L. Sparrow C. Dunbar E. Forbes Joseph B. Gummere A. Day Madonna H. Hunter D Dean P. Massey N. Hutchins 1st Shepherd P. Morgan P. Martin S. Sigourney 2nd Shepherd R. Coe M. A. Haskell 3rd Shepherd B. Heywood F. Taylor 1st King M Hoagland 2nd King D. Bowker 3rd King T Collins Prologue N. Campbell BOY CHOIR C. Pierpont B. Preston ANGELS S. Porter L. Kinnicutt V. Cobb B. des Cognets B. Daniels J. Collins J. Wise J. White G. Knowlton P. Taylor M. Lowell M. Whitin D. Adams P. Morgan P. Bright D. Alton H. Dewey P. Alton B. Bowker E. Coe B. Lincoln S. Pomeroy B. Jeppson M. Berry W. Porter L. des Cognets

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DRAMATIC CLUB Rose Dresser, Director Frances Dresser, '37, President Margery Ann Williams, '38, Treasurer Virginia Mudge, '37, Secretary

FRIEND HANNAH

BY PAUL KESTER Cast Betty Trott Margaret Lightfoot Thomas Lightfoot Hannah Lightfoot Isaac Axford George Tudor (Afterwards George III) Edward, Duke of York Charles, Duke of Chandos Lord Bute, Prime Minister of England Augusta, Princess Dowager of Wales Robert Clegg, a post boy Doctor Halford

Mary Lee Sparrow Elizabeth Forbes Barbara Gummere Helen Hunter Barbara Heywood Mary Annis Haskell Ruth Windle Frances Dresser Pamela Mitchell Carol Churchman Margery Ann Williams Mary Spaulding Elizabeth Lase11 Pages Barbara Perkins Dorothy Dean, Production Manager Harriett Erskine and Virginia MacFarland, Stage Managers M. A. Williams, Business Manager Joan Oak, Scenery Virginia Mudge, Costumes Dorothy Dewey, Props.

Priscilla Martin, House Manager Nancy Campbell, Make Up

THE STORY OF JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS Presented by Class VII Joseph Jacob Pharaoh Butler Servant Merchant

Ishmelites

R. Coe K. Dowley P. Morgan A. M. Washburn P. Taylor F. Taylor A. McLaurin L. Erskine R. Higgins C. Emmons

Brothers

M. L. Barnard J. Bigelow J. Bliss D. Guest A. Hoagland T. Huber 0. Kennedy B. Lincoln S. Pomeroy C. Sigourney B. Wood

"FRIEND HANNAH" Left to right: George Tudor; Hannah Lightfoot; Edward, Duke of York; Charles, Duke of Chandos; Thomas Lightfoot; Margaret Lightfoot; Betty Trott; Isaac Axford,

THANKSGIVING PLAY-SCENE IV Left to right: Judy Wise, Harry Dewey, Peter Morgan, Katharine Greene, Lloyd Byrd, Philip Alton, Martha Lowell, Barbara Jordan, David Adams.

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THANKSGIVING PLAY Scenes of Colonial Life in America Presented by Class VI THE TOWN MEETING

I.

Meeting House in the Town of Dorchester, in 1650 D Adams B. Jordan L. Byrd P Morgan

Moderator Constable Tithingman Town Clerk

II.

V. Cobb Woman H. Dewey Townsman P. Alton Farmer Selectmen, K. Greene, M. Lowell, J. Wise

WITCHCRAFT SCENE

The Rev. Mr. Paris' House in Salem in 1675 P. Alton M Lowell K. Greene

Rev. Mr. Paris Tituba Mrs. Paris

III. Judge Hathorne Martha Corey Giles Corey Cotton Mather

Dr. Griggs H Dewey Mary Walcott B Jordan Children V. Cobb, D. Adams L. Byrd, P. Morgan, J. Wise

THE TRIAL OF MARTHA COREY

P. Morgan K Greene D. Adams P. Alton Deacon

Constable J Wise Girls V. Cobb, M. Lowell Mary Walcott B Jordan John Gloyd L. Byrd H. Dewey

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THE YOUNG KING

By Oscar Wilde Dramatized and produced by Class VIII, assisted by Class VII 15th Century small Kingdom in Southern Europe

TIME—Late PLACE—A

ACT I Scene I. The Bed Chamber of the Young King; Evening Scene II. Interior of a 'Weaver's Hovel Scene III. The Deck of a Galley, Off the Coast of Africa Scene IV. Mouth of a Mountain Cave Scene V. The Bed Chamber of the Young King; Morning ACT II The Cathedral, the Morning of the Coronation of the Young King PRODUCTION CREW Stage Managers—Martha Adams, Warren Porter.

Scenery—Ned Greene, Francis Hart, Robert Carr, Mahlon Hoagland.

Properties—Elizabeth Alton, Louis des Cognets, Thomas Collins, Webster Blood.

Costumes—Janette Bolton, Jean Tibbetts, Pliny Allen, Davenport Bowker.

CAST Robert Carr 1st Courtier Carol Sigourney 1st Page Thomas Collins 2nd Courtier Anne Hoagland 2nd Page Warren Porter 3rd Courtier Jean Bigelow 3rd Page The Young King, Davenport Bowker 1st Noble . . Anne Marie Washburn Maria, the old nurse, Martha Adams 2nd Noble Tevis Huber Louis des Cognets 3rd Noble Anny McLaurin A Weaver A Poor Man Janette Bolton The Weaver's Children, Dorcas Guest, Seward Pomeroy 1st Soldier Linwood Erskine A Merchant . . . . Mahlon Hoagland 2nd Soldier Richard Higgins Hart Francis Driver The Bishop Elizabeth Alton Slave Taylor Peter Pearl Diver Choir Boys: Oarsmen, Janet Bliss, Mary Lee Barnard Craig Emmons, Fred Taylor Dorcas Guest, Joan Bigelow Paul Morgan A Sailor Katherine Dowley Owen Kennedy Shark Drummer Carol Sigourney Ned Greene Death Brooks Wood 1st Baron Jean Tibbetts Avarice Brayton Lincoln Baron 2nd Pliny Allen A Pilgrim Dick Coe The Chamberlain . . Webster Blood 3rd Baron

A NORWEGIAN STORY ABOUT THE TROLLS Presented by Class III Dame Siegried Little Girls

Margaret Glidden Margaret Berry Elizabeth Coe

A CLASS ROOM SCENE IN GRADE V OF THE BANCROFT SCHOOL JUST BEFORE A TEST ON CHINA E. Bowker P. Bright

P. Hoagland B. Daniels M. Gummere B. Jeppson D. Sykes

A. Kennedy L. Kinnicutt

TROLLS A. Bliss D. Alton C. Erskine P. Heald J. Hoagland R. Kennedy F. Naughton N. Wood

G. Knowlton D. Morgan

THE SONG OF ROLAND Presented by Classes VIII and VII, June 1935 Left to right: Elizabeth Alton, Martha Adams, Barbara Perkins, Sally Daniels, Gaskill, Jean Tibbetts, Elizabeth Brown, Edith Kinnicutt, Constance Barth, Joan Carol Oak, Liddora Gould.

GREEK PROGRAM BY CLASS IV EXPLANATION OF GREEK VASES Introduction—Lemuel Manchester Process—Teddy Childs Types—Robert Menard Workshop—Mary Whitin TABLEAUX REPRESENTING SCENES ON GREEK VASES Description of Vase Tableau I. Bunnie Barton Vase by Exekias Ajax—Stanley Porter Achilles—Robert Preston 2. Nancy Willard Vase by unknown artist The Disappearance of Cattle Jean Whitcomb Suzanne Hart 3. Robert Preston Vase by Hieron Triptolamus and the Wheat Suzanne Hart Richard Harrington 4. Janet White Vase by Polygnotos Achilles and Amazon Queen Bunny Barton, Betty desCognets Edith Sherer, Charles Washburn

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GIRLS' ATHLETICS Head of Blues: Barbara Gummere Head of Grays: Elizabeth Forbes Middle School Representatives Blue: Janet Bliss Gray: Anne Hoagland

Upper School Representatives Blue: Mary Lee Sparrow Gray: Irene McLaurin

Lower School Representatives Blue: Dabney Morgan Gray: Patsy Bright Managers Hockey Blue: Elizabeth Young Gray: Barbara Heywood Tap Dancing: Marjorie Murchison Archery: Suzanne Sigourney Tennis: Pamela Mitchell

Young Martin Heywood Sparrow Gummere Forbes

Basketball Blue: Frances Dresser Gray: Ruth Windle Track: Elizabeth Young Baseball: Barbara Gummere

BASKETBALL TEAM Captain: Priscilla Martin Subs: McLaurin Dean Erskine, L. Williams Hutchins Ashey EVENTS

Two hockey games with Holden—defeated in both.

Faculty-Student hockey game—Students won.

Parent-Student hockey game—Tie. Faculty-Student basketball game—Faculty won, 30-19.

Lincoln basketball game—Bancroft won, 22-19.

Skating Carnival—February 6.

Northfield trip for winter sports—February 7-9.

Girls' gym meet—April 14.

Riding meet.

Track meet.

Upper School tennis tournament—April 30-May 30.

Front Row: Warren Porter, Louis Des Cognets, Ned Greene, Pliny Allen, Webster Blood, Francis Hart, Brooks Wood.

Back Row: Tom Collins, Davenport Bowker, Teddy Blake, Mahlon Hoagland, Paul Morgan.

BOYS' ATHLETICS FOOTBALL Captain: Davenport Bowker 1st game—Fay School—Fay, 0; Bancroft, 6.

2nd game—Rectory School—Rectory 6; Bancroft, 18.

3rd game—Eaglebrook School—Eaglebrook, 6; Bancroft, 0.

4th game—Rectory School—Rectory, 0; Bancroft, 26.

BASKETBALL Captain for first First Team game—Warren Porter 1st team—Fay School—Fay, 18; Bancroft, 35.

Captain for first Second Team game—Brooks Wood 2nd team—Fay School—Fay, 17; Bancroft, 10.

Captain for second First Team game—Francis Hart 1st team—Fay School—Fay, 24; Bancroft, 42.

Captain for second Second Team game—Brooks Wood 2nd team—Fay School—Fay, 8; Bancroft, 9.

BOYS' SKATING CARNIVAL Results:—Seventh Grade Dash—lst, Brooks Wood; 2nd, Brayton A. Lincoln; 3rd, Paul Morgan. Seventh Grade Four-lap Race—lst, Philip Alton; 2nd, Brooks Wood; 3rd, Paul Morgan. Eighth Grade Dash—lst, Mahlon Hoagland; 2nd, Pliny Allen; 3rd, Davenport Bowker.

Jumping—Francis Hart.

BASEBALL Captain: Warren Porter 1st game—Fay School—Fay, 10; Bancroft, 8.

2nd game—Rectory School—Rectory, 5; Bancroft, 5.

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ATHLETIC AWARDS 1935 AWARDS TO GIRLS GRADES 3 AND 4: B. S. Betty des Cognets, Betty Bowker, Dabney Morgan.

Posture Cup, Kitty Sigourney. Spirit Cup, Betty des Cognets.

GRADES 5 AND 6: B. S. Kathryn Dowley, Barbara Jordan, Virginia Cobb.

Stars for Second Year. Janet Bliss, Patsy Lennihan, Carol Sigourney.

Posture Cup. Patsy Lennihan.

Spirit Cup. Janet Bliss.

GRADES 7 AND 8: Small B's. Jean Tibbets, Elizabeth Brown, Betsy Stinson, Carol Gaskill.

Stars for Second Year. Nancy Gould, Anne Michie, Pamela Mitchell, Edith Kinnicutt.

Improvement. Honorable mention, Barbara Perkins.

Posture Cup. Nancy Gould.

Spirit Cup. Betsy Stinson.

Trophies for different sports: Hockey—Liddora Gould; Dancing— Martha Adams; Baseball—Carol Gaskill; Track—Anne Michie.

UPPER SCHOOL: Big B's. Gertrude Blood, Francis Hill, Dorothy Dean, Barbara Gummere, Irene McLaurin, Elizabeth Young.

Bars for Second Year. Dean Hoffman, Sue Mirick, Sylvia Spence, Elizabeth Forbes, Barbara Heywood, Mary Lee Sparrow.

Posture Cup. Elizabeth Young.

Spirit Cup. Frances Hill.

Trophies for different sports: Hockey—Priscilla Martin; Basketball— Barbara Heywood; Baseball—Barbara Gummere; Track—Elizabeth Young; Tennis—Elizabeth Forbes (winner of spring elimination tournament).

Honorable Mention in Skating—Mary Lee Sparrow, Barbara Heywood; in Archery—Jane Baker, Barbara MacFarland, Dean Hoffman, Anne Bigelow.

Athletic Cup. Mary Lee Sparrow.

Jackson Cup to Grays.

AWARDS TO BOYS Pest Athlete: Teddy Blake.

Athletic Improvement: David Hoffman.

Football Letters: F. Adams, G. Gould, D. Hoffman, D. Lowell, E. Macy, Teddy Blake, D. Bowker, F. Hart, B. Wood, M. Hoagland, L. des Cognets.

Baseball Letters: Paul Morgan, B. Wood, P. Allen, Teddy Blake, D. Bowker, L. des Cognets, G. Gould, D. Hoffman, D. Lowell, M. Hoagland, F. Hart.

Basketball Letters: G. Gould, Teddy Blake, D. Lowell, D. Bowker, F. Hart, Paul Morgan.

• •

,

CLASS VIII

Front Row: Jean Tibbetts, Janette Bolton, Martha Adams, Elizabeth Alton.

Middle Row: Pliny Allen, Davenport Bowker, Francis Hart, Edward Greene, Warren Porter.

Back Row: Thomas Collins, Webster Blood, Louis des Cognets, Rob2rt Carr.

(Absent—Mahlon Hoagland)

In ftirmorti of Paths iKintirg Blakr January 29, 1922 —

March 9, 1936

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EIGHTH GRADE WILL To Anne Marie Washburn—Janette Bolton's sandwiches.

Mahlon Hoagland's curly hair to Brooks Wood.

Martha Adam's modesty to Kay Dowley.

Webster Blood's size to Seward Pomeroy.

To Tevis Huber—Libby Alton's Latin Book.

Davenport Bowker's skating ability to Craig Emmons.

Franny Hart's long legs to Janet Bliss.

To Dicky Coe—Ned Greene's behavior.

Tom Collin's bad memory to Fred Taylor.

To Owen Kennedy—Pliny Allen's cows.

Jean Tibbett's temper to Carol Sigourney.

To Mary Lee Barnard—Bobby Carr's playthings.

Louis des Cognets' notes to Anne Hoagland.

Warren Porter's smile to Dorcas Guest.

THE HERO OF THE DAY perilous snow storms in the back

WAS one of those blinding, swirling ITwoods of Maine. The cold, biting wind howled around the little log cabin that held as its occupants, two young girls and a big, beautiful police dog.

The two girls, Virginia and Barbara, had come up to Maine on a vacation from their work on the stage in New York. They were seeking adventure in these wild woods, but neither girl realized the danger that they were about to encounter.

Babs, the younger of the two, was curled up contentedly in front of the big open fireplace, gazing at the flames. Ginny was lying on the sofa, devouring the contents of a huge box of chocolates.

"Wolf certainly is making enough noise to wake up the dead," groaned Ginny.

"I'll go and let him in," said Babs.

Both girls gasped with terror as Wolf came limping in with his paw dripping with blood. Carefully and tenderly the girls bound the wounded dog's paw with clean strips of white cloth. All the while that this operation was going on, Babs noticed that Wolf was trying to tell them something.

Finally she told Ginny.

"I think that Wolf wants us to go somewhere with him," said Babs.

"It's an awful night, but we had best follow him," answered Ginny.

The girls wrapped up well and followed Wolf out into the inky blackness of the treacherous night. Again and again the girls stumbled in the wet, cold snow. The wind cut their faces and sent tears streaming down

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their faces. After this chase had gone on—as Babs described later—a million miles, both girls stood paralyzed in their tracks.

"Ginny!" Babs cried as she grabbed Ginny by the arm.

"Keep still, Babs, and let's see if we can find where the noise is coming from," said Ginny.

Again they heard the low weird moan. Suddenly Ginny gave a startled exclamation.

"Babs! here's a man's hat!"

"And here's a man lying here half frozen to death," cried Babs.

Through many long hours the girls struggled to get the man back to their cabin.

The next few hours found Ginny and Babs sitting in front of the big fireplace talking to the man. He was not a stranger. He was Ginny's uncle that she had run away from to go on the stage.

"But Uncle John, you don't really mean that you want both Babs and me to come and live with you," said Ginny in excited tones.

"Yes, and your dog, Wolf, that saved my life in spite of the fact that I shot him in what I thought was self-defense."

JANETTE BOLTON, VIII

THE THOUGHTS OF PRINCE was shouting as loud as he could because he knew he could HOWARD frighten me. I really was frightened to tell the truth, but I came up to him pretending not to be. As far as I could make out he was in his worst temper. He always lost it with me. As he took off his belt I shrank away under the piano, my only safe hide-out. I got under the piano just in time to escape the thrashing in hand. Howard just did this because he thought it was fun. At that moment I heard a car coming up the driveway just as clearly as Howard did. He knew it was his father so he put on his belt very hurriedly. My master came in suspecting something but he didn't say a thing.

My master was always very kind to me. I sneaked up to him watching Howard for I was still frightened. My master always petted me. He spoiled me dreadfully while Howard enjoyed mistreating me.

My master went upstairs and when I tried to follow him I was grasped by the collar by Howard. He cursed me much with his wicked tongue. I couldn't understand why I was being punished.

Just as Howard had again taken off his belt my master arrived on the scene. I tried my best to thank him and I think he understood what I meant. He realized how badly Howard had mistreated me.

That noon after I had been fed I went next door to find my friend Pal, who was a setter like myself and was about the same age. Although Pal was

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very stingy with his bones, we got along very well. We always had a grand time teasing the old lady terrier across the street.

I finally left Pal, and upon my return home I found we had a guest, and what should she be but a nosy little Dachshund! She would annoy me something terrible.

I finally had some peace in front of the library fire. I lay there for a little while until I longed to go into the dining room where the family was now assembled. I saw a bone drop off of my mistress's plate and I made a dash for it but I was sent out of the dining room with a number of harsh words and without the bone.

After everyone had left the house I found the mistress's bed very comfortable so I stayed there.

I was awakened by a great racket under the bed. I jumped after it but found it only a mouse and to my sorrow I didn't catch it. This was another thing lost besides the bone so I was quite a disappointed dog when the master found the bed of the mistress in such a mess. I was scolded severely and I was quite sad that night when I was left by myself instead of sleeping with my master.

JULIE JEAN TIBBETTS, VIII

OLD SEAPORTS may or may not know, Shanghai is, in many respects, still an AS oldYOUseaport.

One of its chief aspects is the old character of the sailing vessels.

Once when we were coming back here from China we took a little steamboat from Nanking down the Yangtze River. The commerce on the river is mostly carried on by the queer old fashioned junks. The junks are painted different colors—red, black, white, or maybe gray. Sometimes the hulls will be red or black but almost always there will be two white eyes high up on the blunt bow. These eyes are meant to give life to the junk and scare away the water demons. The junks have a queerly shaped hull which is strangely effective. The outside resembles somewhat the ships of Columbus' days with the high bow and stern. Sometimes there are as many as four masts having sails of different sizes. The sails are fastened to the masts in the middle and regulated by ropes on the sides.

In the harbor of Shanghai there are also small boats called sampans which are sculled with a single oar, and often have whole families living in them.

The sampans are very numerous and are quite a bother cluttering around the big ships.

Aside from the little ships there are many ungainly tramp steamers and now and then a destroyer or river gunboat. Ships of every nationality are in Shanghai, which is indeed an old and interesting seaport.

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In marked contrast to the hand or wind propelled Chinese ships are those of Japan. As one comes into port, it seems that any family who could efford a boat and motor of any kind what-so-ever had established itself in the harbor. The number of craft of all shapes and designs is simply appalling. Some of these ungainly ships are put to work towing barges which carry the goods to and from the liners. Others go about their own business.

NED GREENE, VIII

AN INTERESTING PERSON HERBERT is an ornithologist and is now seventy-six years MYofCOUSIN age. When someone tells a story, he always knows something about the special thing talked about.

One day as we sat around the fire, he told us of an incident that happened when he was a very small boy. He had been told that some soldiers would go marching by near his house. So he and some other small boys ran to see them. This was during the Civil War. As the soldiers marched by, one of them rode over to where the boys were standing. The soldier asked Cousin Herbert, as he lifted him up in his arms, if he wanted to go to war with him. Of course he was joking, so he put him down again and rode away.

Cousin Herbert once caught a Rose Breasted Grosbeak, who had a broken wing. This bird he kept in a roomy cage. The Grosbeak grew very fond of Cousin Herbert, and he became greatly attached to the bird. One day he let the Grosbeak out in the sun porch. The top windows were open but he didn't think the Grosbeak would fly away. Nevertheless, he did. Cousin Herbert followed the bird, who finally perched high in a tree. He whistled and the Grosbeak recognized his voice, flew down, and perched on his shoulder! Cousin Herbert caught the bird and was able to put him back in his cage.

Another occupation of his is banding birds. He has a bird trap outdoors, in which he captures the birds, and afterwards bands them. Each time he bands a bird, he takes a note of the number of the band, the purpose being to find out if the same birds come back each year. He has an aviary where he keeps the birds whose habits he wishes to study.

One of his other hobbies is collecting specimen plants of wild flowers. He has wild flowers from all over Massachusetts, growing under a grove of pines behind his house.

At one time this remarkable gentleman was Attorney General of the State of Massachusetts under Governor Curtis Guild. He was also advisor to Governor Calvin Coolidge, at the time of the Boston Police Strike.

He is today, still keenly interested in Politics and World affairs.

JOAN BIGELOW, VII

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THE HISTORY OF OUR FARM years have passed since I was built. It was in 1823 when I first MANY looked through my many eyes out across a smiling valley in the warm August sun. I didn't know then that it was named Cyclone Valley, but I learned a few months later when the wintry blasts made me thankful that young John Barnard had built my brick walls so thick and warm. For it was he who planned me, the new home that was to be his bride's.

From 1824 to 1873, John Barnard lived in me; but when he died, his son, the first George A. Barnard, took his place in my twenty-eight rooms until he departed in 1923. During his reign in me, a queer machine, quite common now, was put in me, besides a steam plant and lighting and plumbing equipment. This device I heard someone say was a telephone. A member of the family was lame, so they put another strange thing in me that made me shiver. This was for the lame lady to ride in up and down stairs. 1 found out later, from two small boys stealing a ride in it, that it was an elevator.

My view now is very different from what I saw when I began as a full fledged house. My eyes then rested on a quiet valley with only one or two houses in sight, but now I can only see dirty factories and houses packed in my once beautiful dell.

After George A. Barnard died, his sons all said they owned me together— but I know that I am as independent as any other respectable residence!

They have sold me to Mr. Sansouci who came from some place called Leicester. Now, after one hundred and nine years of service to man, he has ordered me to be torn down! This is only because some children have been stealing my belongings and have nearly ruined my barn that used to be full of cattle, pigs, hay, and everything that belongs to a prosperous, busy farm.

They have broken most of my eyes, thus making a way into my rooms, which have not been used for three years.

I heard one workman say that I was wonderfully preserved for one hundred and twelve years, and that I was the second beautiful residence in North Worcester being torn down.

Soon I will be completely done for, except for that terrible elevator which the workmen say they will have to leave here until Mr. Sansouci has something else to do on my land. Not much of me is left now, but while there is a scrap of me left to dream, I shall love remembering those fine old days when all my family lived safe within my arms.

MARY LEE BARNARD, VII

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TWO BEAUTIFUL NIGHTS during the summer the moon was full. I was lying in bed oNEandnight the light shone so that I got an impression that it was raining silver raindrops. The color at first was silvery and then a turquoise blue with a sprinkling of silver, then gold with some bright shining specks of reddish-silver.

Another night during the autumn the moon was not quite full, but the light was bright. Every leaf and branch appeared as if piled high with snow.

BARBARA JORDAN, VI

INDIAN SUMMER morning when I looked out the window I saw a frisky little red THISsquirrel up in the pear tree eating a bit of pear. Everything was quiet except for the sound of the bluejays in a nearby tree. A lively little nuthatch was eating sunflower seeds in the feed-box on the gray stone wall.

One of the trees in the next yard was a brilliant red with touches of yellow here and there. It looked so pretty against the smooth blue sky.

Fall or Indian Summer is one of the most beautiful seasons of the year in New England. Every minute is precious because any time a strong wind or rain may spring up and tear the lovely leaves from the trees. Birds come by in flocks headed for the warm and sunny south. This fall is said to have been the most colorful fall that we have had in New England for forty years.

MARTHA LOWELL, VI

PET DEERMICE Friday in the fall, the year before last, my father said he thought oNEit cold would be fun to have some pet deermice. He said he would make a trap that would catch them without hurting them. Mother, who was used to having lots of pet animals around the house, said she thought it would be lots of fun too. When the trap was finished we set it down cellar in the wood pile. The next morning, which was Sunday, there was a deermouse in the trap. We took it upstairs and put it in a cage which we had all ready for some deermice. That afternoon when dad came home he had with him three more deermice. He had got them from a man who had caught them in his house and didn't want them. We found out we had two males and two females. One of the males and one of the females mated and the female had four little baby deermice, but the other male was jealous of the first male so he killed him. We then decided to let the other female and the only male go. This we soon did. Soon after that the female had another litter of four little deermice. These we kept till spring and then let go. The baby deermice when born look just like little tiny

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pink pigs, but soon after they grow a soft coat of grey fuzz. The fullgrown deermice are a light brown with white underparts. They are very easy to tame and eat anything such as cold cereals, oats, and all kinds of fruit and also milk.

MARTHA LOWELL, VI

MY CHEMISTRY SET went down

Christmas I was lucky enough to get a Chemistry set. I LAST in the cellar the next day and got all the old one-inch candles and got to work. My brother and sister had had a set for three or four years before and had abandoned theirs. So I went over and collected all the books they had and finally found one telling how to make writing ink. I pulled out a test tube and into it put the correct chemicals, and let it heat. When the time was up I blew out the candle and put the mixture into a bottle and put the cork on. Then I got some water and poured it into the test tube to wash it out, and was surprised to see the bottom fall right plum out. I thought the chemical was very strong but found out later that it was hot and then cold. I tried out the ink and found it good. I was so excited that I ran upstairs so fast that I slipped and fell and lost all my precious ink all over the cellar stairs.

I set to work again and made some more. This turned out better, and I succeeded in getting upstairs without spilling it.

I next decided to make some ammonia. When all the chemicals were mixed, I put the tube over the flame and let it heat. The book didn't say how long to keep it over the flame, but it said to smell of it! So I took a deep breath and then put my nose right close over the tube and breathed in.

It almost killed me—but I made ammonia.

HARRY DEWEY, VI

ENGLAND AND AMERICA England and English are known by nearly all the people of THEthewords world, although England is a very small place, about the size of Massachusetts. It has lots of interests in the world today, and the language is spoken in many parts of the globe.

One of the things that is noticed most is the difference in the climate between England and America. In America it is hot in the summer and very cold in the winter, but in England it is not cold in the winter. If we get twelve degrees of frost it is terrible. The summer is not hot while in America it is. Also it is very damp in England.

I notice that American people prepare for winter with a lot of fur coats and ice skates and skis and sleds. There are a lot of things here that I have never seen before in England but they are mostly nice.

JUDY WISE, VI

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THE DIARY OF ONE OF COLUMBUS'S SAILORS July 31. Would be let out of prison if I would go with a man called Columbus on a journey to India going west instead of east. He thinks the world is round. I do not but I wanted to get out of prison so I signed up.

Aug. 3. We are on the ocean now and I am on the Pinto.

Aug. 8. At the Canary Islands. A magic demon spurted up flames of fire at night as we were leaving. I am afraid it means bad luck.

Sept. 18. Seaweed in large quantities.

Sept. 20. More Seaweed. Looks like grass growing. The weed is green and some little fishes that swim about three inches long. When we put down a bucket little fishes were brought up one of which had a red light which shone at night.

Sept. 21. A whale spurted up a mountain of water in the distance.

Sept. 22. Columbus got a crab which he is keeping.

Sept. 23. A ball of fire came down from the heavens and scared all of us.

Sept. 24. Columbus put down a sounding line that didn't strike bottom.

Sept. 25. No weed. Went swimming. It was very warm. One of the sailors got bitten by a jelly-like kind of fish which Columbus called Portuguese Man-O'War. Sept. 26. No more weed. Yesterday we saw small fish that fly out of the water. They were jumping around as lively as grasshoppers.

Oct. 8. We saw wild roses growing on a stick.

Oct. 11. Captain said he would give a velvet coat to the man that sighted land.

Oct. 12. Two o'clock this morning an isle of trees was sighted.

KATHARINE GREENE, VI

SPRING Flowers push up their wee heads.

Men rise early from their beds.

Cares are cast off. All are gay.

Oh! the joy of a spring day!

Birds are singing in the trees.

Clouds are floating in the breeze.

Happy summer days are near.

The longed-for spring at last is here!

BETTY BOWKER, V

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THE HORSE'S CHRISTMAS storm was raging,

and Tom looked out the window. The snow mARY and the wind was howling down the chimney. An old horse was

plodding down the country road. He had once belonged to Mr. Hicks.

He had been turned out in the snow storm because Mr. Hicks didn't want an old horse. His name had been Tim, but no one called him by his name - any more. As he plodded down the road, he was thinking of when he was young and lived with his mother in a warm barn and had hay under his feet. He remembered the good oats that he had eaten, never thinking that he was going to be turned out of his beloved home in a raging snow storm.

As Mary and Tom had their noses pressed to the window, they saw the old horse. Mary saw him first and then Tom. Mary called to her father and said, "Look at that poor old horse! We will give him a Christmas." So Mary and Tom and their father went out in the cold and snow and brought Tim in the warm shed again with hay under his feet. That night Mary and Tom went out and gave Tim a heaping dish of oats. Then Mary said, "What a nice old horse," and Tom said,."Sure." And what did Tim think? Well, I'll tell you. He thought that it was the best Christmas he ever had.

BETTY JEPPSON, V

HALLOWE'EN The witches are riding their broomsticks, The ghosts are walking about, The jack-o-lanterns are grinning, And all the boys are out.

BRUCE G. DANIELS, V

THE SNOW-COVERED TREES \\THEN I awoke one morning in the middle of winter, I got up and looked out my window. I felt a cool breeze on my face and saw that every tree was thickly covered with snow. Then I got up and dressed. I went down to breakfast. I put on my ski pants and ski boots and a jacket and went out. The dogs were already out and I met them in the woods so I went with them. I went to a rocky knoll. Just then the sun broke through the trees and it made everything glisten like the sun shining on a diamond.

When I walked the crusty snow went crunch, crunch, crunch. The smell of the freshness and the coolness made me feel very happy.

LINCOLN KINNICUTT, V

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SPRING Now let us frolic as winter is gone.

Robins' throats are bursting with a song.

Let us deck the house with flowers From the lovely garden's bowers.

Spring is here!

The birds are singing on the lawn— Be glad winter's gone.

The sun is shining, And the waters are sparkling and shining.

Spring is here!

One and all come and sing, And burst with a song!

Winter is gone!

Winter is gone!

Spring is here!

BETTY JEPPSON, V

THE GRAND CANYON T HAVE never been to the Grand Canyon, but I can imagine how beautiful I it is with its colorful scene with the rivers curling in and out. I can also imagine the moon climbing up over the mountains and making the color show out more clearly. And in the morning the sun coming up and making the shadows still more beautiful.

The birds made a noise, a noise that no one else could make. A deer was stepping out of the thicket. This animal sent a light over everything, this time a lion ready to pounce on the deer. But quick as a flash there was a scramble and the deer was gone. There was a sudden silence. The birds stopped singing as they realized the time. It was getting dark. Things should be asleep.

PEGGY GUMMERE, V

AN EXCITING ADVENTURE One day when I had gotten through with washing the dishes, Mother said that I could go out doors and play with the girls. While I was out doors playing with the girls I saw a nest up in a tree. "Come on, Janet," I said. She came over, and I said, "Let's see if it's a bird's nest, and let's take a stick.- We took a stick and punched the hole. "Oh!" I cried. I ran as fast as I could towards the house. It was a wasp's nest. I know a wasp's nest now when I see it.

BETTY DES COGNETS, IV

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A POOR DOG THAT HAD FLEAS Oh, poor Ned! He had so many fleas I just had to wash him. I took the garden hose, and a bar of soap and a brush and then started to find Ned. But Ned was nowhere around. I had put him in the cellar but I had forgotten to lock the door. Oh, it will take a year to find him now and I should be taking my piano lesson. Oh, what an excuse.

EDITH SHERER, IV

HANGING WALL PAPER One day I told my father that I wanted new wall paper for my room.

He said that he was sorry but he could not afford a paper-hanger. But I told him that I could easily put the paper up if he would get it for me. The next day the paper arrived. It was a very pretty design with little squares on it. Saturday I started hanging it. When I was in the midst of it I leaned too far over on one side and down came everything and a piece of nice clean paper was all spattered with paste. I don't think I will try hanging wall paper again!

RICHARD HARRINGTON, IV

THE KITTEN Once upon a time there was an old man and an old woman. They lived on a farm. They had a little kitten named Blacky. Blacky was a mischievous kitten. He lived in the barn. He did not like living in a barn so he decided to run away. So early the next morning, he ran out of the barn into the woods. He ran through the forests. He looked up and he was so far in the wood that he couldn't even see the barn. He felt sort of lonesome for the barn, but he kept on going. He ran on and on till he came to a little pond, and the frogs jumped all around. It began to get very dark, and he became very frightened and wished he was at the dear old barn again.

So the next morning he started out. He ran and ran till he was tired and lay down to rest. Then when he was rested he started out again, till he came to the barn and he went up to the door and cried. Then the old man and woman came to the door and saw the cat and were so happy they let the cat in and danced around in a circle and they all lived happily ever after till they died.

DOTTY ALTON, III

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SAUCY PIRATE Once there was a great big fat pirate. His name was John. He only liked himself and his ugly crew. He owned a ship called the Jolly Roger.

He liked to capture sailors and put them in jail. He would like to put chains on them as heavy as a ton. This old ugly pirate had a ton of gold and silver and a half a ton of diamonds. When he got hold of a sailor he would make him walk the plank.

FRANK NAUGHTON, III

BLACK--TAIL Once upon a time there lived an awful pretty swan. She lived in a pond that looked like a mirror. The pond was always clean and fresh.

The swan's name was Downy. One day the children came down to look at Downy and give her scraps of bread. The children that Downy knew were Jean, Carol, Nancy, and Dick. Downy was pure white. The children came down every day to feed Downy. But one day Downy did not come.

So they went away. For a whole week the children came; then one day they saw Downy and her six little babies. When the babies got a little older Downy named them. There were two boy babies and she named one Tuff, and named the other Black-Tail. The four girls she named them Muff, Fluff, Buff, and Whitey. Black-Tail she named because he was pure white with a black tip on the end of his tail. Black-Tail loved to get into mischief. Black-Tail once saw a little elf in a morning glory. Black-Tail ran around the stem of the flower and picked and picked at it. (The elf didn't hear him because he was sound asleep.) He picked at it until it fell down, and the poor little elf fell in a heap and woke up in a hurry.

Black-Tail's mother had to teach him better. He tried and pretty soon he didn't do it any more and everybody liked him.

ELIZABETH COE, III

THE BOAT ON THE SEA Once I pulled the rigging in my little toy boat And told it to go fast around the float— It pulled and it pulled and at last it swung free— It went out of the harbor to sail on the sea— The wind blew on the sails and the waves they were rough, But my little boat stood it because it was tough.

The wind blew and blew and my boat went fast, For it had a big sail and a very strong mast.

ELIZABETH COE, III

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A SAGA - ERIC SAILS THE NORTH SEA ON ADVENTURE I see a ship of ice.

It has a high white mast And a great white pilot.

He looks like a giant.

I will head my dragon for it And see what it may be And what pilot brings it on the sea.

I come nearer— I vow I see a bear— It is a white bear— Now it is a strong white bear.

It steers without a rudder.

It is a smart sailor.

It heads for somewhere— But does it know where?

It has no crew or sails.

There is no ship!

It is an iceberg!

It is just a ship of ice!

And its passenger is just a bear With a white fur coat.

CLASS III

IN BED Every night I dress my Teddy-Bear in sheets, and then put on ribbons, and then play she is gong to her Auntie's birthday.

PHYLLIS GODDARD, II

THE FLYING HIGHWAYMAN One day long ago a coach was going down the street. There was a highwayman. The highwayman stopped the coach and asked for money. The lady gave the man her pocket-book but the lady had play money in it.

ANN GUEST, II

THE GUEST We had a guest to dinner one day. She told us she played the bells of a tower. One day her picture was to be taken. I haven't told you that she had to walk up one hundred and forty-one steps. Well, she waited and waited again. After a long time she went down stairs. The men were there to take her picture. She had to walk up the stairs again.

DEBORAH HEYWOOD, II

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SCHOOL REGISTER FACULTY WORCESTER ADDRESS

NAME

Fisher, Hope Blair, Eleanor Carr, Homer D. Clark, Helen Cobb, Florence Demoorjian, Stephen Dresser, Rose Edgett, Grace L. Estee, Helen P. Gardner, Mrs. John Heinzen, Marjorie Hyde, Maude Jones, Edith Keck, William G.

14 Trowbridge Rd. 34 Fruit St. 5 Fenimore Rd. 21 Fruit St. 42 Harvard St. 377 Main St. 49 Elm St. 45 Cedar St. 97 Elm St. 45 Cedar St.

HOME ADDRESS

402 Mount Vernon Ave., Marion, Ohio 34 Fruit Street 5 Fenimore Rd. 21 Fruit St. 42 Harvard St. 377 Main St. 49 Elm St. Beverly, Mass.

97 Elm St. 2538 Kemper Rd., Shaker Heights, Cleveland, Ohio 166 Neshobe Rd., Waban, Mass.

25 Prospect St., Somersworth, N. H. 18 Somerset St. Temple St., Boylston, Mass.

82 Elm St. 18 Somerset St. Temple St. Boylston, Mass.

1 Dayton St. 1 Dayton St. Knowles, Carrie 1 Marston Way 32 Jason St., Arlington, Mass.

Lacey, Anne 12 Harvard St. 12 Harvard St. McEnery, Marion 770 Franklin St. Manchester, Mrs. Emily 770 Franklin St. 69 West St. 880 West Ferry St., Buffalo, N. Y. Mattison, Anna 45 Cedar St. P.O. Box 187, New Paltz, N. Y. Merrill, Dorothy 21 Dayton St. Marshall, Michigan Miller, Calvin 1 Dayton St. 1 Dayton St. Paige, Minnie 1 Tuckerman St. Porter, Mrs. Lena S. Baldwinville, Mass.

17 Beaconsfield Rd. 17 Beaconsfield Rd. Post, Mrs. Martin 35 Woodland St. 35 Woodland St. Rockwell, Helen 11 Coventry Rd. 11 Coventry Rd. Smith, Eunice 21 West St. Sparrow, Dr. Charles 21 West St. Uxbridge, Mass.

Taft, Margaret Uxbridge, Mass.

23 Hudson St. Todd, Emma 23 Hudson St. 21 Fruit St. Weeks, Frances 0.

21 Fruit St. 21 Dayton St. Williams, John 21 Dayton St. Woodis, Florence 13 Merrick St. 13 Merrick St.

UPPER SCHOOL NAME

Penelope Allen Joan Ashey Jane Baker Anne Bigelow Nancy Campbell Carol Churchman Anne Cook

ADDRESS

6 Lincoln Street, Spencer, Mass.

14 Whitman Road 12526 Cedar Road, Cleveland Heights, Ohio 16 South Quinsigamond Avenue 38 Forest Street 20 Institute Road 989 Main Street, Leicester, Mass.

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Anne Day Dorothy Dean Dorothy Dewey Frances Dresser Charlotte Dunbar Shirley Eccleston Barbara Emmons Harriette Erskine Louise Erskine Martha Esty L. Elizabeth Forbes Barbara Gummere Mary Annis Haskell Barbara Heywood Merle Higgins Helen Hunter Nancy Hutchins Edith Kinnicutt Elizabeth Lasell Katharine Lase11 Virginia MacFarland Phyllis Massey Manette McKinney Irene McLaurin Priscilla Martin Pamela Mitchell Virginia Mudge Marjorie Murchison Joan Oak Barbara Perkins Virginia Pomeroy Martha Prouty Suzanne Sigourney Mary Lee Sparrow Mary Spaulding Rachel Stevens Mary Elizabeth Stinson Margery Williams Ruth Windle Mary Doreen Wise Elizabeth Young

MOON

Care Philippine Refining Co., Manila, P. I. 30 Sever Street 54 William Street 49 Elm Street 2 Harvard Street 62 Elm Street, Southbridge 24 Otsego Road 5 Trowbridge Road 5 Trowbridge Road 85 Elm Street 81 William Street 24 Rittenhouse Road 1025 Main Street, Leicester, Mass.

8 Wheeler Avenue 41 Davidson Road 171 Woodland Street 10 Regent Street 72 Cedar Street 141 Hill Street, Whitinsville, Mass.

141 Hill Street, Whitinsville, Mass.

182 Mil!brook Street 6 Westwood Drive Birmingham, Michigan 161 Pine Ridge Road, Waban, Mass.

Grafton, Massachusetts 48 Cedar Street 304 N. Boulevard West, Huntington W. Va, 11 Downing Street 119 South Street, Northampton, Mass.

R.F.D. No. 3, Athol, Mass.

4 Germain Street 26 Cherry Street, Spencer, Mass.

Boylston Place, Princeton, Mass.

73 Sagamore Road 34 Kenwood Avenue Plantsville, Connecticut 110 Flagg Street 56 William Street 119 Elm Street, Millbury, Mass.

Virginia Circle, Grafton, Mass.

221 Burncoat Street

MIDDLE SCHOOL Martha Adams George Pliny Allen Elizabeth Alton Mary Lee Barnard Joan Bigelow *Charles Kinney Blake *Deceased March 9, 1936.

159 Quinapoxet Lane Spencer, Mass.

340 May Street 337 Burncoat Street South Lancaster

BLUE Janet Bliss Webster Blood Janette Bolton Davenport Bowker Robert Carr Richard Coe Louis des Cognets Thomas Collins Kathryn Dowley Craig Emmons Linwood Erskine, Jr. Edward Greene Dorcas Guest Francis Hart Richard Higgins Ann Hoagland Mahlon Hoagland Tevis Huber Owen Kennedy, Jr. Brayton Lincoln Anny McLaurin Paul Morgan Seward Pomeroy Warren Porter Carolyn Sigourney Frederick Taylor, 2d Peter Taylor Jean Tibbetts Anne Marie Washburn Hamilton B. Wood, Jr.

MOON

14 Trowbridge 25 Metcalf Street Whitinsville, Mass.

46 Fruit Street 5 Fenimore Road 11 Germain Street 299 Salisbury Street Shrewsbury, Mass.

42 Kenwood Avenue 24 Otsego Road 5 Trowbridge Road 71 Lancaster Street 103 Merrick Street 16 Creswell Road 41 Davidson Road 150 Woodland Street 150 Woodland Street 161 Institute Road Boylston, Mass.

39 Cedar Street Waban, Mass.

9 Burgess Road 16 Military Road 1 Tuckerman Street Princeton, Mass.

112 Russell Street 112 Russell Street 34 Monadnock Road 42 Elm Street 68 Beechmont Street

LOWER SCHOOL David Adams Dorothy Alton Philip Alton Elizabeth Barton Margaret Berry Anne Billington Anne Bliss Christine Bosshard Elizabeth Bowker Patricia Bright Dana Bullen Lloyd Byrd Edward Childs Edward Clary Philip Cobb Virginia Cobb Elizabeth Coe Janet Coe Louisa Coe

159 Quinapoxet Lane 340 May Street 340 May Street 65 Elm Street 40 Westwood Drive 1 Woodbine Street 14 Trowbridge Road Leicester, Mass.

46 Fruit Street 14 Algonquin Road 39 Forest Street 17 Beeching Street 8 Burgess Road 16 Beeching Street 1 Marston Way 1 Marston Way 11 Germain Street 11 Germain Street 23 Westwood Drive

77

78 Roger Coe William Coe Elizabeth des Cognets John Collins Carol Cross Bruce Daniels Phoebe Ann Davis Harry Dewey David Duffy George Duffy Christopher Erskine Bartlett Farnsworth Mary Louise Fitton Margaret Glidden Phyllis Goddard Katharine Greene Ann Guest Margery Gummere Frank Harrington, Jr. Richard Harrington Roxana Harrington Suzanne Hart Philip Heald Deborah Heywood Hester Hickel Joan Hoagland Peter Hoagland Betty Jeppson Ward Johnson Barbara Jordan Edwin Jordan Winthrop Jordan Carol Keith Joseph Keith Allan Kennedy Richard Kennedy Lincoln Kinnicutt George Knowlton Martha Lowell Lemuel Manchester Rosemary Marble Robert Menard Mary Lou Molder Dabney Morgan David Morgan Frances Morgan Peter Morgan Frank Naughton, Jr. Carleton Pierpont Stanley Porter Caroline Preston

BLUE

MOON

11 Germain Street 11 Germain Street 299 Salisbury Street Shrewsbury, Mass.

51 Institute Road 190 Salisbury Street 8 Hancock Hill Drive 54 William Street 72 Flagg Street 72 Flagg Street 5 Trowbridge Road Sterling Junction, Mass.

16 Beechmont Street Worcester County Sanitorium, Boylston, Mass.

90 Commodore Road 71 Lancaster Street 103 Merrick Street 24 Rittenhouse Road 122 Coolidge Road 10 Ripley Street 122 Coolidge Road 16 Cresswell Road 45 Flagg Street 70 Elm Street 25 Brownell Street 150 Woodland Street 150 Woodland Street 1 Drury Lane 28 South Lenox Street 20 Loudon Street 20 Loudon Street 20 Loudon Street 54 Cedar Street 54 Cedar Street Boylston, Mass.

87 William Street 72 Cedar Street 15 Military Road 4 Burgess Road 770 Franklin Street 26 Longfellow Road 57 Howland Terrace 10 Rutland Terrace 295 Salisbury Street 295 Salisbury Street 295 Salisbury Street 9 Burgess Road 983 Pleasant Street 85 William Street 1 Tuckerman Street 13 Ashland Street

BLUE Robert Preston Virginia Quick June Ramsey Shirley Reed Edith Sherer Joanne Sibley Katherine Sigourney David Sykes Betsey Taylor Emily Taylor Pamela Taylor James Truslow Charles Washburn Jordan Watson Jean Whitcomb Janet White Mary Rowena Whitin Matthew Percival Whittall, 2nd.

Nancy Willard Roger Willard Judy Wise Norman Wood

MOON

13 Ashland Street 107 Longfellow Road 1 Monmouth Road Boylston, Mass.

62 Elm Street 21 Creswell Road Princeton, Mass.

27 Berwick Street 112 Russell Street 17 Harvard Street 17 Harvard Street Whitinsville, Mass.

42 Elm Street 21 Roxbury Street 5 Westland Street 28 Westland Street Whitinsville, Mass.

15 Rittenhouse Road 20 Nottingham Road 20 Nottingham Road Virginia Circle, Grafton, Mass.

68 Beechmont Street.

79

80

BLUE

MOON

AUTOGRAPHS