New London High School - Whaler Yearbook (New London, CT)

Page 7 text:

BULKELEY NEWS 5 On the table the clock was merrily ringing, its hands pointing to the hour of seven, time to get up for school. Grabbing a shoe he flung it at the offender, which, though rudely interrupted, kept up its noise. Tom arising, begrudgeingly muttered: Hang it,—at the best part of it, too!” Try This On Your Piano. I went for a trip on the mountain side— On the mountain side—on the mountain side, I went for a trip on the mountain side; I just went for a ride! This is what I saw on the mountain side— On the mountain side—on the mountain side. This is what I saw on the mountain side; The time I went for a ride! Over there I espied a classy kid— A classy kid—a classy kid. Over there I espied a classy kid; And I made for her—I did. She turned around to look at me— To look at me—to look at me. She turned around to look at me; And oh—what I did see! A face she had as black as coal— As black as coal—as black as coal. A face she had as black as coal; And features like a mole! That’s what I saw on the mountain side— On the mountain side—on the mountain side. That’s what I saw on the mountain side; Where never again I’ll ride! —Frank A. Mallen.

Page 6 text:

4 BULKELEY NEWS togs. The remainder of the morning was spent at tennis. Both boys had had a little practice at this, but were no match for the girls who easily outplayed them. Getting tired, they sat down on a bench, well hid in the shade of the trees. They sat here idly for a spell. Finally Helena asked Tom if he would like to go canoeing in the afternoon. Now this was one of Tom’s chief sports, taking up a considerable portion of his time when near the seashore, so he readily consented. The question was then put to Esther who was also eager to go, while poor Jack’s heart sank within, but he could not refuse. His mind went back to the time when he was nearly drowned as the result of a capsized canoe. He had never been in one since. They were on the river. It was a beautiful sight; the rippling waters lapped on the beach; the green swaying trees reflected in the waters below. To the south a quarter of a mile was a sudden drop, which, with jagged rocks jutting from out of the water, formed a treacherous rapid. To the north all was smooth and level. Tom struck out toward the middle of the stream, then cropped his paddle to watch his cousin who was awkwardly striking out, making sure at the same time that he remained near shore. For him it was no pleasure, for at each movement of the craft his heart gave a sudden thump. Tom glanced over at Helen who was interestingly watching the other couple, but his eyes drew her around. This time as their eyes met and re- mained so fixed, she did not become confused, but quite to the contrary as they soon forgot where they were. All the time they kept on drifting. Tom’s back was towards the rapids so he was unaware of their nearness, while Helen’s parasol was so fixed as to exclude them from her sight. They probably wouldn’t have noticed the nearness, they were so occuppied in each other. Tom’s paddle lay idle in the bottom of the canoe. They were only about twenty yards away when Helen became aware of their danger. She gave a sharp cry and a sudden move. Tom, with disregard that he was in a canoe, stooped over to regain his paddle, but at the same time leaning far over to one side. It was fatal. The canoe tipped, hesitated, then went, sending the occupants into the water. Helen, although she was able to swim, was terrified at the nearness of the rapids, so that she grabbed Tom about the neck as he swam towards her. They had not reached the rapids, but if they had, no one knows what the result would have been. Luckily they were near shore so that they were able to reach land in safety. Tom’s foot finally struck bottom. He stood up and still the girl clung to him. If she was w'illing, Tom was, so he gathered her up in his arms. A sweet feeling of contentment stole over him. He had her in his arms. Her arms were around his neck; her face near his he could feel her soft breath on his cheek. The sweet perfume of her hair floating to his nostrils intoxicated him with delight. He drew her closer, he shut his eyes—a noise, lie opened them,, in bewilderment he glanced around.

Page 8 text:

6 BULKELEY NEWS In Love and War. EUNICE and Grace Hull were commenting earnestly over the contents received only a few moments previous—a letter which a few words contained therein, caused more mental activity to those two girls, for such they were; and handsome, indeed,—than would an event of greater importance. It was not one of the ordinary epistles that confront various persons each day and which they read with little or no interest—neither one of those letters uncared for and not anticipated ; but very much to the contrary. It was, and to be sincere, a letter awaited for with anxiety, and and which received, eased the largest cruelsome burden that anxiety can load on not-quite-yet matured minds. It came a long distance, was a long time coming, and dearer to the hearts of the aforesaid girls than would be pleasures indefinable. Over in France, in a hospital deluged with wounded and dying modern warriors and heroes; an institution which harbored death and death’s accomplices; cries of pain, anguish, homesickness, and disease; where the despicable, but heroic part of life and the various forms of suffering were conspicuous; a tall, well-proportioned young, and good-looking doctor hurriedly traversed a blood-stained floor while making his daily tour to the numerous bedsteads and the signifi- cant heart-rending scenes therein lying, in order to alleviate at least a little of the suffering, if not a great deal. As he concluded his labor and knelt beside the last patient’s bed, Harold Hull’s heart sank within the deep sea of sympathy that so often got the best of him and caused him many horrible pangs. He was treating a nurse—one who faithfully volunteered her life in order to be of use to others. But it was not the nurse as much as the story attached to her that held Harold’s gravest sympathies. She was in love. A soldier was in love. They were in love—and with each other, which speaks the fundamental part of the story. Then she saved his life when he was wounded. Wounded in such a manner, that naught but death could benefit by. But brave girl, optimistic where pessimism should have reigned, she knelt beside his bed and devoted four sleepless nights to his care. Her constant labor was victorious. He rallied, and why not? How can death better such a contending force of bravery and skill which that girl hurled against it? It had to give in. The soldier, well, went off again to lend his services for his Majesty. Her strenuous work, however, rendered her beyond health, which answers for her being in bed instead of out. Harold knew this, and, better still, understood it. His heart gave a sudden thud. A sigh of relief escaped