Bar Harbor High School - Islander Yearbook (Bar Harbor, ME)

Page 32 text:

The Islander 30 .O he - - coys he owned. While they were talking Pete Berwick came into: the store. H I suppose you two have met, remarked the store- keeper. Why,1yes, answered Charlie, we dined together yesterday. g 4R. A. H. '24 A Song of Praise Oh State of Maine, my rugged home Once more to be with thee, Once more within thy woods to roam In blest tranquility! To once more see the sun's red blaze Light up the evening sky, And hear the thrush his song of praise Lift up to God on high. 'T is vain! It may not ever be That in thy land I roam To wander by the restless sea, In Maine, my native home. H. DOW, '25 A Watch in the Night The sad world slept in the stillness, That follows a day of pain, Night fell on the quiet city, Peace covered the outer plain. Above, the shadowy mountains, Faint stars in the vigils shone, Below, in the darkened garden, A watch and a heart of stone. The night wind sighed in passing, Its sorrowful, lonely wayg Light mist arose to the herald, The day broke cool and grayg Soft crouched 'mid the branches, A bird in her little nest, Feeling her wee ones nestle Closely against her breast. -AL. JOHNSTON, '24

Page 31 text:

M The Islander h 29 Feathers' ' The autumn sunset was reflected from the glassy sur- face of a small lake in the Maine woods. On the eastern shore of the lake Charlie Durant, a city sportsman, was preparing for his first experience in duck-shooting. He packed his wooden decoys in the stern of a light skiff and then went into the camp to prepare his supper. So far, he was greatly pleased with life in the Great Outdoors. On the western side of the lake stood a small log cabin. Pete Berwick, an old hunter and trapper came out of this cabin with a dish of corn for his tame decoys. He was very fond of these ducks and had refused many offers for them. The next morning the weather was ideal for duck- shooting and Charlie put out his decoys on the west side of the lake and waited for the ducks to come. His hand trem- bled a little when he heard the whistle of wings and saw five ducks coming straight towards the boat. When they were in range, he fired both barrels and a large duck fell. Charlie quickly picked it up and examined it with great pride for it was the first duck he had ever shot. His meditations were rudely interrupted by a terrible volley of oaths. He turned quickly and looked into the muzzle of Pete Berwick's shotgun. Drop that gun and row ashore, commanded the angry hunter. Charlie obeyed and when he reached the shore, Pete took the duck away from him. Nobody can shoot my ducks and get away with it. Them ducks are the best tollers in this country. Charlie explained that he did not know they were tame ducks and offered to pay for the one he had killed. I reckon you're going to pay for that duck right now, said Pete. You're going to eat some of his feathers before I count to ten or you'll get a charge of shot. Charlie argued, threatened, and be ged Pete to be reasonable but he kept on counting. Wien he got up to nine he cocked the gun. Charlie took a hasty glance at the large barrel of the ten-gage and at the man who held it and decided to eat the feathers. When he thought Charlie was sufficiently punished, Pete took the duck and started for his cabin. Charlie was very angry as he picked up his own gun and shouted, Come- here and eat your share of the feathers. Pete obeyed sullenly. Charlie took his gun from him, unloaded it and left it at some distance from the old hunter. Then he returned to his camp. The next day when he was at the village store, the owner was telling of Berwick's skill in hunting and of the fine de-

Page 33 text:

. The Islander 31 Heart of A Moth As he looked with unseeing eye into the fire, fantastic flame-light spotted the shadow on his face in such a way that it made him appear to be grinning, fiendishly. In broad day, without this bizarre lighting, his expression would have been drawn and haggard, for he was a man with a problem. Andgas in days of yoreehis problem was a woman. A woman, despite the fact that he called her his gay night motlhlf' Indeed, they were very like, this woman and the mot . Ever iiitting through the night Ever drawn to gleaming light Ever beautiful. Yet he knew that he loved more than the moth. There was an intangible something that lingered in his consciousness. He had been groping as one blind to find expression for it- and not for once had it occurred to him that his seemingly mysterious something might be just her woman personality beneath the light exterior. Try as he might, he had been unable to capture this elusive creature. At first, he had been determined to win her by his own personality, but, he reflected, he had been too dull, too gross to attract a fanciful, delicate moth. He had turned to other men hoping to find that their experience would tell him what to dow-but these men had come in con- tact With only average women. They believed that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Accordingly, knowing no better way, he had absented himself, only to find it utterly distasteful to him-and, which was infinitely worse, that it had made N0 impression on her. Then, he had despaired. How could he accomplish what other men had failed to do? He was weary of the city that had shown him such ill-favor.. He would tell her good-bye. And so he was here-in her home-gazing into the fire- and seeking vainly to discover some means that he might have overlooked in his frantic effort to charm her Sud- denly he was conscious of her presence. Instinctively he- arose and piled logs on the fire, for the room was too dark for her. She craved light-and as a moth-expanded greatly in it. He heard a beautiful voice speaking to him. Oh! It's you, and you've come to tell me 'good-bye.' Why are you going? Perceiving that she was comfortable in her favorite chair, he sank back in his own. VVhat had possessed her to ask him that, of all questions? That she was aware of his love, he was convinced, for up to this time she had evaded