Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Page 20 text:

 if An Amxioes Momeimt |X a bright autumn morning when the air was gloriously J clear and a boisterous wind had swept away the purple haze from the low-lying hills, I went whistling down the lane. starting my journey to the village of G---------, some eighteen miles distant. Nor was the weather entirely responsible for the glow in my heart, for I was feeling very important indeed, having been offered a job which would mark my dehut into the world of business, after my graduation from college. As the hours and miles passed and I began to feel quite weary 1 asked the distance from chance-met passersbv. But each inquiry seemed to add a mile or two to the distance till finally, as dusk closed in the hills. 1 decided I was still five miles from my goal, at least, though I knew not how much farther it would be when next 1 inquired. So. coming over a hilltop. 1 was rejoiced to see a yellow light glim- mering through the gloom and hurried toward it. I found it shone through the window of a tidy. New Kngland farmhouse which was surrounded by a picket fence, and from which emanated an air of hos- pitality and cleanliness. An auspicious curl of smoke rose from the chimney and brought before my mind the picture of a kitchen hearth and bubbling pots. I knocked. 1 he door was opened by a young girl. To her I stated my plight and asked it I might spend the night there. I waited in an agony of suspense during a whispered parley behind the half-opened door. But I was at length admitted to introduce my- self to a family of two daughters, bright and healthy-looking, and their father who had a fringe of whiskers under his chin and a skull cap on his bald head. The two girls brought in the supper, steaming hot. and sending forth an aroma so tantalizing that I had to exercise some self-control in order not to appear over-eager for the contents of the dishes. 14

Page 19 text:

Who sings before those gates of gold. There bright Aurora will unfold The brilliant sunbeams, one by one. And loose the horses of the sun. The trail creeps on among the trees. The poet walking down it sees Shv stretches winding far ahead. Where the pines, more widely spread Reveal above, a rosy sky And pearl-winged clouds that seem to fly. But look! One beam of glittering gold. The treasures that such mornings hold Will vanish like a fairy gift; The sun is rising, bright and swift. Eleanor Burgess, ’ 6. (Awarded first price Nads and Reeks Literary Contest. 1936.) I know not if her voice be harsh or sweet, 1 cannot tell the color of her hair. But this I know, that where her idle feet 1 lave passed or lingered, there is magic there. I know not what it means when all my heart W ill thrill and pause at a familiar tone; I only know that when I steal apart A something flutters with me not my own. These days have webbed a soft enchantment close. And still as Mem’ry’s golden tendrils run. They weave the bonds that will not let us loose While someone smiles and speaks beneath the sun. Yet something calls and throbs and fears in me That when 1 wake, there is none such as she. (Awarded first price Nads and Reeks Literary Contest. ) Betty Ford, 'j6.

Page 21 text:

After supper when we sat before the fire I. feeling the responsibility of a man of the world, attempted to start the ball of conversation rolling and launched forth with enthusiasm about football. My ardor quickly died, however, as mv taciturn host did not respond beyond a grunt and a nod. Next, 1 tried baseball, but he knew even less about the Big League. I tried politics but this met a similar fate. Unper- turbed, he sat and puffed at his pipe, and in desperation I gave up. Finally, the old man rose and got down on his knees before the fire facing us. I had been brought up in a strict New F.ngland fashion, and was accustomed to morning family prayers. Concluding that these people had evening prayers. I slipped to mv knees beside the old man and with bowed head waited for him to begin. Dead silence reigned throughout the room except for the suppressed giggles of one of the girls. Suddenly, an awful thought gripped my heart and sent the shivers of apprehension chasing up and down my spine. They were waiting for me to lead in prayer! I became hot all over, then cold. I knelt there paralyzed, unable to move. Myjace burned and the blood throbbed in my temples. I tried to open my mouth and couldn't. 1 sent an appealing glance at the old man. Mis face bore no trace of expec- tancy, hut only a look of great solemnity. A wave of relief came over me. They must be Quakers 1 decided, and have silent prayer. Thank- ful for this, I remained quiet, too, until my host rose. Then we each took a candle and went to bed. The old man led me out through the wood-shed and showed me the ladder that led to mv room. “Your bed is that one on the other side of the partition. You under- stand, sir? he asked. “Good night.’’ I was tired after my walk and was soon comfortable in the desig- nated bed. Presently I heard footsteps below—and giggles!—the girls. Their feet scraped on the ladder and the giggles grew louder. Sh-h! You’ll wake the man!’’ More giggles. I 15 |