Lyman Hall High school - Singer Chronicle Yearbook (Wallingford, CT)

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THE CHRONICLE 17 She had never seen such beautiful metal fittings. All chromium, and they shone like the Pearly Gates — so different from the brass of the Old Building, which even though polished daily, looked its thirty-six years,— and then some. She was glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more. She turned and looked at the spacious files. She bet that they worked easily without catching quite unlike the rusty files of the Old Building. But the old files seemed to fit in with their surroundings and the surroundings were as bad as the files, and, oh well, she was glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more. She snuggled close to one side of the big comfy swivel chair in which she was seated. The soft, springy seat was warm and probably wasn’t any inducement to work very hard. But the chairs in the Old Building — There wasn’t a word hard enough to describe them. And as she leaned her head back against the smooth felt cushions, she was glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more. Scarlet geraniums, four just alike, stood tall and straight on the stands made for them. They looked well-cared for — so much so that they almost seemed smug. In the Old Building there used to be a fern, but it died one winter, and no one had ever brought another plant. And because of the geraniums’ cheerfulness, she was glad she worked in The New Building. It certainly had been hard to get the transfer, but she had worked for it and she got it. The other girls laughed when they knew she was working for a transfer, but in the end the joke was on them. She had received it. She glanced at the beautiful black and silver wall clock. Nine o’clock. She gasped aloud. She had come right from dinner and had been here two hours. This was no way to start. And shifting her two hundred and eighteen pounds from the chair to the floor, she started to wash the wonderful floor, a smile on her face. A. Nony. Mous, ’38 Hobbies Hobbies are a pastime Leading to lots of fun, No one knows the pleasure Until they have begun. Collecting stamps or stones, Pictures and beautiful art, Collecting anything your fancy desires Is educational on your part. Beginning with a stone or two Or many another suggestion, Soon you’ll be the possessor Of a large and interesting collection. Ruth Shookie, ’39

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16 THE CHRONICLE “Why, I — I Caro was not expecting this. Tlien she answered quickly, “I usually eat with Mother and Dad when Mother is about, but this is the last night, and I know that they won’t mind.” While they were dancing after dinner, Jack announced, “At midnight we are going to pass a light which we shall be able to see on the horizon. I have arranged with the chef for a little snack after we have seen it. I hope that you have a heavy coat. It will be cold.” Caro was excited. She had always wished that someone would talk to her like that - order her around. They sat on the deck that night until they had passed the light. Then Caro looked at her watch. “Heavens!” she said in her callous way, “I have to go in or Mother will scalp me!” “Good night, Caro, and good bye.” Panic struck her. They were to dock in the morning. ‘Mack —” she started, and stopped. “Yes, Caro, some day we’ll meet again,” he said, and was gone. That night the fire alarm sounded. Bedlam reigned. In the red glare ugly seas snatched at the lowered life boats. The headlines in the New York papers on the following morning announced: “Huge ocean liner sinks twelve hours from Southampton. Five passengers and crew drowned. Among the missing were Miss Carolyn Livingstone of this city and Mr. Jack Hobart.” Betty Shelley, '37 Satisfaction She sat in the big swivel chair behind the huge, shiny mahogany desk. How large and roomy it was, with so many drawers. It was so different from those in the Old Building. Battered and worn, scratched and marked, and worn smooth with long usage, those desks had known many years of hard work. She was so glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more. She glanced around her. She marveled. Everywhere were evidences of great wealth. Secretly she wondered if these wonderful things would last as long as those things in the Old Building. What did it matter, anyhow? The owner would probably redecorate all the offices here in ten years. She was glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more. She looked at the beautiful, glossy, hardwood floors. Mentally she compared them with the floors of the Old Building. Those had served the foot steps of many years, and she was in a way familiar with them. But these new floors, well, they sort of did something to you — like making you want to dance — even though you couldn’t. And she was glad she didn’t work in the Old Building any more.

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18 THE CHRONICLE Fly-fishing for Trout The most common method of catching trout is to use bait, such as worms, grasshoppers, beetles, and shiners, the worms being most often used. In recent years, however, a new phase of scientific angling has become popular, taking trout on the artificial fly. The fly is by no means a new thing. Isaac Walton used it back in 1600, and up to 1900 it was occasionally used by the really scientific fishermen, the average angler, however, resorting to worms. After 1900 it was proved that it took twice as much skill to take trout on the fly as on the worm, and also since the speckled trout were diminishing because of heavy fishing, pollution, and factories, it showed better sportsmanship to catch them on flies. About 1920 the phrase “Give the fish a chance” became popular. This awoke the fishermen’s sporting blood, and today we find fly-fishing gradually becoming predominant. Of the many trout fishermen in the United States, three-quarters of them use flies. However, don’t get the impression that worms are impractical for bait! As a matter of fact, they have to be used in early spring fishing when the streams are high, cold, discolored, and when hundreds of natural worms are being carried downstream; but in June when the insects are humming, the water’s normal, and the flies are hatching (yes, mosquitoes too!), the trout feed heavily and naturally on these insects, and therefore it is the correct time to use artificials. The artificial fly is divided into two classes the wet fly and the dry fly. The wet fly is supposed to imitate a half-drowned fly that is faintly struggling in the current or a shiner and an underwater fly. It is divided into the bucktail, streamer, nymph, and ordinary wet hackle. The dry fly is intended to imitate a floating insect such as the may-fly, which, as its name suggests, hatches in May and falls off the tree branches into the stream, which causes the trout to come to the surface and feed on them. As the natural fly floats, so the artificial has to float, which is accomplished by special equipment. The dry fly is divided into the fanwing, spentwing, bivisible, and ordinary dry hackle. To take trout on dry flies is an art in itself, requiring the highest degree of skill and patience. On the casting of the fly, which is a book in itself, I shall say nothing to my bored readers, but until May is here with its rich, new foliage, humming insects, and warm days, may the trout rest in peace and wait for the bombardment of thousands of flies, both real and artificial. Daniel D’Agostino, ’37