Central High School - Aglaia Yearbook (Manchester, NH)

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16 IANUARY AGLAIA OF THE ORACLE He has just finished his harvesting. In the background is a battered old farmhouse, worn by weather and time. In the yard, a young boy, clothed in dungarees and an old straw hat, is completing his chores. I stop a minute to wish that I were an artist. Passing the farmhouse, I came to a grassy meadow and a cattle-worn path. Be- yond appear the tops of millions of trees. The leaves are just beginning to turn and never before have I seen so many beautiful colors. I don't believe that one could find greater beauty anywhere. Coming home, these pictures are still with me and I Wonder-if the country folk appreciate the beauty which surrounds them. BETTY BURPEE THE HERO Once upon a time, As the legend always goes, There was a daring cowboy With many friends and foes. He rode a spotted pony, Wore chaps upon his knees, His blouse was multi-colored, His attire one to please. There also was a badman Named Jasper Q. MacKnightg Our hero went to get him On a dark and stormy night. He rode through all the bad lands With his pistol butts in view, His face was set in hardness As he thought of Iasper Q. He urged his horse on faster, He was eager for the fray, But as he turned the corner He heard somebody sayg Now reach right for the ceiling, My high an' mighty franlg Don't think you're smart enough to fool This here super'or man! Now our hero started thinking Of some way to play his hand, When there came a sound of moving And a shuffling in the sand. Then someone started breathing, So the robber turned to see, Our hero took a sideward leap And got behind a tree. He drew his gun for shootingi The bullet straight and true Had found its mark, the robber went Forever out of view. Our hero went to thank his friend, The latter not in sight, Our hero called, Who helped me out? With all his strength and might. He heard a little stirring, A moving in the grassg Out from behind a big old rock A bullfrog jumped at last. Our hero looked and then he smiled, At last he made a vow, He would reward the frog, because He was the hero now. DOROTHY LANG ROOM 300 This is a test for accuracy, not for speed. I think I've heard that phrase before, but each time I seem to profit less. My mind is made up today, though. I shall turn out a perfect copy of the printed matter. I am ready-in position, I look around for the last time. The teacher is standing

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IANUARY AGLAIA or THE ORACLE 15 learning how to End things. First of all, you must know for what you are looking. Then it is wise to concentrate and try to remember where you last used the vanish- ed article. If this produces no result then proceed to look for it in the most probable room. Search thoroughly in every nook and corner before hunting in another. Don't, if possible, let other things dis- tract your attention, but remain attentive throughout your search. Keep in mind the appearance of the article: its size, make-up, and color. Be sure to disregard anything of a foreign nature. How many times my at- tention has been so drawn to a past relic fespecially in the atticj that I forgot com- pletely what I was looking for! Losing your temper will get you no- where if you intend to master the science. A cool head, observing eyes, and an attentive mind are all essential factors of a successful finder. But above all, never give up. Don't say, Oh, it isn't around here, thereis no use looking, for if you're like me, you don't know where you put half of your things all of the time! The next time your favorite book dis- appears, or your gloves seem to have vanish- ed in thin air, perhaps my suggestions will aid your disheartened search, and if not, why then ask for begj the assistance of your mother as I do. WILLIAM SPRIGG TRAVEL Travel-how the word thrills me and seems to open new vistas of enchantment. That one word spells delight and mystery. Ever since I can remember I have dream- ed of travelling to different countries on the other side of the ocean. When I was a child the books I loved most and read over and over again told of adventure in Europe and Asia. I've always looked forward to the beautiful English countryside and London with its dismal fog and stone houses of the same drab color, to Ireland in all its green- ness, to its little villages with their narrow lanes winding past cottages where house- wives sit on their cloorstones to work, to the donkey carts filled with peat rumbling over the stone bridges. Most of all, however, have I longed to visit France. I want to walk leisurely through Tuileries or the Bois de Boulogne, to stand before the Arc de Tri- omphe, and to kneel in the dim candlelight, marveling at the immensity of Notre Dame. Meanwhile, dreaming of the delight and mystery of travel, I content myself with reading avidly about these places. PHYLLIS C. BROWN FIDDLER'S COIN The symbols of our yesterdays Adorn the woven belt of Time, They are the price that each one pays For blinding grief and love sublime. Fading with time as all things do, And stripped of most of its silver sheen: A single moon-ray falters through And tries to find a shattered dream. The flame of hope is what remains Of what was faith and love in one. Our hearts have trod in sorrow's lanes But eager wait the rising sun. HELEN MONTGOMERY COUNTRY PAGEANT A windy autum day, a quiet country road, and solitude-that's all I ask. Roam- ing through the country on my right I see an aged farmer standing in the golden Fields.

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IANUARY AGLAIA OF THE ORACLE 17 with the watch in her hand. I feel a liitle nervous, my body grows tense, my neck is already stiff from watching the copy whizh I have not yet started to type, and my little finger is exhausted from pressing so long on that shift--still, I hear no signal to start. After a heated debate with myself, I relax just for a second-surely it won't take any longer than that to collect my nerves, give my machine a last minute inspection, and see that all will be Well during my forth- coming struggle with the control of that which claims to be a typewri-- Start!', Oh, now for that shift-where is it? My copy-it's on the floor! I have it back in position now and Hnd myself playing the hit or miss game once more. But it seems my troubles are not over yet-this is the second time I have been obliged to get my keys out of a badly entangled huddle. Oops! I almost forgot my instructions about keeping my eyes on the copy, but I've been hearing bells rin ging-could one of them have been mine? No, not yet, of course. Perhaps mine will be the next, then remembering that good old saying, There's nothing like a changef' I fumble for the return lever, and after due wandering my hand strikes it. That's odd, it didn't seem to move very far-I look up just this once-Horrors! I wasn't even half way through the- Timel The last step in one of these so-called tests is reading it through. I rub my eyes and read again-in vain. Either I have be- come cross-eyed, or I can't read. ' ' That bewildered expression 1T1uSt have drawn attention, for I am surrounded by my most considerate classmates. They tell me that I could have done worse. In typing for ten minutes on the wrong row of keys, I wrote three out of fifteen words correctlyl ALICE KYRAGAKIS i SOUTH SEA SAGA Night settled down upon the island and relieved the earth of its stifling heat. The grassy swale lay thick and luxuriant under the tall trees and the hills assumed dim, monstrous shapes in the velvet darkness. The night was without wind, but occasional vagrant airs stirred the treetops. Rhythmic waves beat upon the shore in stately succes- sion under the blazing stars above. Mouldy smells rose from the dark earth and filled the night air with their pungent odor. In the eastern sky the faint glow of a coming moon shone. Night seemed to hold its breath.- VIRGINIA FULLER LET'S PLAY ALADDIN I wish I had a watermelon, I wish I had a Watermelon, chanted Iohnny as the rest of his friends looked on eagerly. Iohnny was in the process of smoothing down the top of an oily lantern with his two chubby little palms, for this lantern was sup- posed to be magic. By rubbing it one's wish came true and after the gang Qas Iohnny's small group of friends liked to term them- selvesj had noted what to expect, Iohnny began to rub. He had been rubbing and chanting now for more than fifteen minutes, but then, no one had ever specified the time necessary for the wish to come true. Iohnny had even suggested that it might take about an hour of rubbing to get the wish working and then about another hour for the water- melon to appear. So there they all were, sitting Indian fashion in a circle around Iohnny land, of course, the lantern. Each boy Qthere were about sevenj was eager and tense, hoping, at any moment, to see a water- melon drop from the sky, for where else could a magic watermelon come from. At First Iohnny chanted just above a whisper,