Phillips High School - Phillipian Yearbook (Phillips, ME)

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THE PHILLIPIAN 25 Evelyn confessed that the boys at school had been poking fun at his name and that he, on several occasions, had had to fight and up to now had always had the worst of it. I keep telling them how brave my dad is, he said, almost in tears, but they say that a man who'll name his son Evelyn can't be brave. I guess it just isn't any use. The next morning at recess the boys started their hectoring again. Evelyn had reached the limit of his endurance. His fists Hew and before even he realized it both his tormentors were on the ground. What is the meaning of this? de- manded a stern voice. Evelyn Black, you don't deserve to hear the news I have for you. It was the principal. Is it-is it from my father? quavered Evelyn. It is. I think your-er-friends may be in- terested too. Your father, Evelyn, has just received a medal for bravery. Gosh! exclaimed the boys, and one of them added, You weren't kidding us at all! Your father really is with the R. A. F . Boyl' said the other, A real flyer! Say, how's about being friends? Gee, we really liked you, only, well your name is sort of funny. You bet,,' said Evelyn. And why don't you just call me Butch for short? Nelda Thompson. HOW IIMMY SAVED THE FLAG IT was a cold winter night and Iimmy O'Brien, a poor newsboy, was walking home from work. He and his mother lived in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of the city, almost a mile away. It started to snow and the wind increased. Iimmy, shivering, drew the collar of his thin jacket more closely about his throat. He decided to take a short cut to get home sooner. His way now lay in a bad part of the city. People of almost every nationality lived there and it was almost dangerous to walk in this section alone after dark. Iimmy continued resolutely onward. The wind and snow increased. It seemed as if the bones of his body were frozen, and soon he realized that he must stop at one of these houses to get warm, or perish. He paused in front of a building for he thought he heard angry voices and someone sobbing. He stepped to the window and looked in. The sight that met his eyes made him forget that he was cold. In the small room he could see people. On looking more closely he discovered a little boy crouching in a corner. He was crying and appeared very frightened. A large brutal looking man was bending over him as though threatening to do something. A frail woman was standing near by. It seemed as if she were pleading. She spoke in a foreign language which jimmy could not understand. Her words seemed to make the man more angry. Suddenly Iimmy saw that the little boy held a small American flag partly concealed by his coat. The man started to take it from him. Iimmy felt that it was time for him to interfere. He opened the door softly and entered. The man did not see him. Rushing up behind and knocking him to one side, Iimmy took the flag from the boy's hand and turning to the astonished people cried: This American flag protects all its citi- zens. You are a foreigner. You may be an enemy of this country, I cannot say, but I know you are doing wrong to try to take this Hag from the boy. While you are liv- ing here you are under its protection and should obey and respect its laws. Has the United States ever done you any wrong? The man felt ashamed and lowered his head. Finally in broken English he replied: No, the United States has not wronged me, but my native country does not like her, and I was only doing what I thought was right. I see now that I was wrong. jimmy gave the flag to the boy and told him to honor it and respect it always. As he moved toward the door the woman de- tained him, trying to express her gratitude for his assistance. Finally he started for home. He no longer felt cold. He was very happy for he knew that he had done a good deed that night, a deed of any true American! Robert McKeen.

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24 THE PHILLIPIAN ended our wonderful trip which we shall never forget and probably many will never see again. L. M. '4l. NEW ENGLAND AS WHITTIER KNEW IT T is spring! Spring again in New Eng- land! But these are troubled times. There is talk of war. Let us escape from all this and spend a day in the New Eng- land of Whittier's youth. We shall visit with Iohn Whittier himself on his father's farm. In early morning one day in May as we drive along the old road with horse and buggy we see a gate behind which stretches a county lane shaded with tall trees, stately with age. On this gate we find a boy look- ing olf into the distant hills with perhaps a shy glance or two at us. As we draw up, the boy smiles shyly at us and we think immediately of Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy with cheeks of tan --. No wonder Whittier could write that so naturally, he himself had been that boy. On the way to the school we pass through fields and across the brook while our new acquaintance tells us of the winter just passed. He takes us back beside the fire- place, crackling and giving off a cheery warmth. With chestnuts roasting and rosy red apples at our elbow, we see the family gathered 'round while father and Uncle Iohn tell of other snow storms, Indian fighting and patriotism. A blizzard rages outside but the family is oblivious of that. Suddenly around the bend we see the schoolhouse. Boys are leaning on the fence, laughing and happy as are school boys every where, girls watch us from the windows and door. The bell rings and in we go. The boys and girls sit on benches, girls on one side and boys on the other. They made certain that the school master did not see them as they whispered for he was free with the birch rod. A spelling lesson comes first, carried on as we knew it must have been for who of us hasn't read Whittier's School Days P Could this freckled little girl with pig tails who went to the head of the line be the one we know so well? We notice that Iohn Whittier's eye wanders toward her. Lagging through the fields and beside the brook on the way back to the farm 'and evening chores the boy asks eager questions of Burns and Scott. Who of Whittier's schoolmates could realize then that their friend who played hooky with them to go fishing would someday write poems that homesick New Englanders would read with grateful hearts. As we pass by the general store on the way through the village for one last look at the pleasant New England life before re- turning to 1941 we wish that perhaps we might have lived in those peaceful times. But listen! What is the man shouting in the center of the one street? Down with the trouble-makers! he cries. Drive out the abolitionistsf' Our hearts are heavy as we pass through for even then life was not always so peaceful. Marion Beal. THE ENGLISH REFUGEE HE boys in Riverside School, Riverside, Michigan, were surprised to Hnd a new pupil among the group on Monday morning. They were very much surprised to find that this tall, good-looking lad of thirteen had come from London, England, during the previous week, but imagine their astonish- ment to find that his name was Evelyn Black. When Evelyn went home to dinner that noon he was very unhappy, but since his aunt and uncle, for that was what he called his present guardians, attributed his sadness to homesickness they did not comment on it. However as time went on and Evelyn's unhappiness increased, they became con- vinced that homesickness could not be the whole cause. Then one day he appeared with a black eye and they decided to make inquiries.

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26 T H E P H THE EASTER LILY . U I SN'T it remarkable, the way she cares for her garden-everything grows so nicel ' This is what the neighbors would say when they saw eight-year old Babette Grant working on her precious plot. She was the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Grant who lived on Decatur street. They had a small, modern home. Mr. Grant having worked in a bank for ten years. On one side of the spacious lawn, was Babette's garden, beauti- fully decorated with many flowers. She had a little glass box for a hothouse. Her many species had been given to her by her mother and the neighbors. She tenderly cared for her garden every day. One day Babette came home from school and saw a package for her on the table. It was from the minister. He had sent her an Easter lily bulb! M ot h e r! M ot he r, look! she cried. See what Mr. johnson gave to me. Now I can have a lily all my own.', During the winter, a poor Italian family had moved in, down the street. The father had died, leaving a wife, three small chil- dren and a girl, Betti about Babette's age. The mother had to work very hard so her children would not starve. Babette tried in vain to make friends with Betti, but she paid no attention. Her face was always dirty and she looked to be very cross. By now Babette's lily had grown quite large. It was almost Easter, but would the lily bloom too soon? This question worried Babette. One day Babette had noticed Betti gazing into the window of the Florist Shop. She stood there a long time. When Babette went over, she saw Betti crying. Immedi- ately Betti ran. It must be that Betti liked flowers also and she had been wishing for some. One morning when Babette woke up, the sun was shining brightly. She hurried to look at her lily. Much to her disappoint- ment one bud had already opened and the other was about ready. Oh what shall I ILLIPIAN do? she thought. It's eight days before Easter and my lily will be spoiled. Sud- denly she stopped crying. An idea had come to her. She ran to mother and they whispered for several minutes. She hurried down to Mr. Iohnson's to ask him something. Yes, my dear, he answered, it's all right with me. That afternoon Babette carefully wrapped her lily and went over to Betti's. She was giving it to the poor girl who, she knew, loved flowers down in her heart, instead of putting it on the church altar where every- one would see it and praise her. Mother and the minister both agreed that it was a fine idea. Oh thank you,', she cried, thees is for me? I love-a it. After this the two girls were close friends. Babette gave and taught Betti many things. THE LIE AND HOW IT GREW N this particular morning nine year old jerry Arnold was feeling very sorry for himself-and why shouldn't he? He had just come from a long session in the wood- shed. At least it had seemed long to him. This is how the whole thing happened. Ierry's mother was right in the midst of making a cake when to her dismay she found she had no baking-soda. She hurried to the door and called, jerry, come here a min- ute, please. Will you run down to Mr. Carter's store and get me a box of baking- soda? Wait just a moment and I'll get you some money. Be sure and come right backll' A few minutes later jerry was hurrying down the street, and fearing he would for- get what he was after he kept muttering to himself, Baking-soda, baking-soda. At the same time that jerry was on his way to Mr. Carter's store, a jolly group of young boys was coming down the street, baseball gloves and bats swinging at their sides. Now Ierry's intentions were to do as his mother had told him to, but he soon found himself in a vacant lot, on one side of Mr.