Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

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THE CAULDRON 17 the faded manuscripts. After carefully restoring them, she preserves them by covering them with a special sheer cloth which is nearly transparent. All papers are then placed under glass or in dust-tight cases. e It was interesting to hear her tell of this intricate and exacting work and we wondered if she had had any particularly interesting experiences with her paper patching. After some prodding she told us this story: About six months ago. two men came to my work room and asked me if they were right in understanding that I could re-assemble the parts of a mutilated letter. After carefully producing a box containing seemingly hundreds of pieces of writing paper as small as confetti, they asked me if I would be willing to put this letter together for them. I enjoy unusual requests and so set to work. As I spread out these fragments they told me why they had come. It seems that a month before a young lady was found with a bullet wound in her head. Her estranged husband was now on trial for her murder. This man, who was on an out-bound train half an hour after her death, had no way of proving that she was alive when he left her apartment. His fate seemed sealed, until in searching her room for evidence, these scraps of paper were found in her waste basket. Evidently she had intended for no one to read them, for not a word could be read. 'l'he court had sent these men to me in the hope that if the papers were mended so that the letter could be read, it might furnish evidence which would decide the case one way or the other. Now that I had the pieces spread out and knew the importance of my task, I set out eagerly to assemble my puzzle in the endeavor to save a man's life. At the end of the second hour. I was finished, and the men excitedly read the results of my efforts, after which they thanked me profusely and left, exultantg for in this letter rested the one scrap of evidence which would prove that this woman was alive after the accused had left her. In the note the dead woman explained that, her husband no longer loving her, she had nothing to live for and was going to shoot herself. Apparently she decided not to leave the note and so destroyed it as completely as possible. Her husband would have soon joined her in death had it not been for the help of this quiet old lady. Did we once think her work dull and monotonous? BETTY HEMPSTEAD THE GREAT STRUGGLE or PLUMBING IN THE HOME Due to the shortage of experienced and well-trained plumbers, many of us are now discovering the pleasures and joys QU of doing our own plumbing. Cn a peaceful Sunday morning as we are just opening our eyes, luxuriously stretching, and chuckling over last night's party, we feel a sense of security and contentment that only a good night's sleep can bring. WeV rise and shine, only to discover that it is quite chilly, fnot to say freezingj, and make a dash for the bathroom to indulge in a nice steaming hot bubble bath Capple blossomj.

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16 THE CAULDRON nowhere at the rate of forty miles an hour. Even the fairly big ships were wal- lowing and plunging under the pressure of the towering seas. The little Hat- 'bottomed landing craft were bouncing and tossing about like toothpicks in the tempest. Dawn came up gray and misty, and as the day wore on, the storm grew progressively worse. By midafternoon the sea was breaking in mountainous waves clear over the decks of the largest ships. Men could not stand on deck and watches had to be lashed to their posts. This storm could turn the whole venture into a disaster that would cost thousands of lives and ships. The majority of the soldiers would hit the beach weak and indifferent from sea-sickness, with two-thirds of their fighting power destroyed. High waves would make it im- possible to launch the assault craft from the transports. Boats would be smashed, lives would be lost, and the attack seriously weakened. lf the invasion were post- poned, it would increase the chance of discovery and bring heavy attacks by the enemy. Finally the prayers of the boys for moderate weather were answered, and it seemed as though fate had plucked the convoy from the grip of doom. The storm ceased as quickly as it had begun, and the mountainous waves slowly leveled out until the surface of the water was as smooth as a table top. This was the moment the brass hats had been waiting for, so they gave the long awaited order, Stand by to board landing craft l VVithin fifteen minutes the beach was covered by what looked like chocolate icing, but this icing was the brown and khaki uniforms of American soldiers. The enemy offered little resistance, and by sunset the infantry had taken every- thing they had hoped to get during the first five days. Convoys had started back to Africa for new loads before the first day was over. Our own invading Heet had escaped without losses other than normal mechanical breakdowns. Strong counterattacks were inevitable, but the invaders felt that, whatever happened, they had a head start and all was in their favor. This is only a preamble to the work and fighting our boys are engaged in. They are making supreme sacrifices in order that we, the younger generation of America may inherit a world of peace. Not every invasion is as successful as this mythical one. But every invasion does depend on the loyal support of every single person who has the privilege of calling himself an American ! VVENDELL VVEBBER MONOTONOUS? H- Miss Abigail Tompson, Custodian of Old Manuscripts at the Library of the Philadelphia Historical Society. Yes, this quiet, unassuming, white-haired lady of some seventy odd years, seemed like a typical librarian whose uneventful life would be very monotonous. I am not familiar with your title. What sort of work do you do ? After a few other leading questions we found that Miss Tompson's work is very unusual. As custodian of old manuscripts she is given old letters and papers, many of Revolutionary Days, and restores them as nearly as possible to their original state. Often she finds the edges of them ragged and whole sections of paper missing. Each new item presents new problems. She has many kinds of 'old paper for patching at her disposal, and often she has to dye them to match

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18 THE CAULDRON We turn the hot water knob and start to whistle a cheery tune while we wait for the tub to fill. But what is this! Nothing happens! Oh, well, fsighj, per- haps the pipes on the second Hoor are frozen. We'll have to postpone that lovely warm bath 'till the sun rises high enough to thaw the pipes. As we skip down the stairs, a sense of foreboding fills usg but we shrug it off and put our mind on more pleasant things, such as the little woman in a frilly little housedress standing by the stove watching the bacon and eggs-and that coffee she makes! It makes our mouth. water just to think about it. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, a startled gasp escapes our lips. There is no coffee, no bacon, and no eggs, all is in an uproar! There on the floor the little woman! Her hair is disheveled, her dress is torn and dirtyg and she is surrounded by piles of newspaper, a wrench, and several candles. She is evidently having some trouble under the sink, as her head disappears every so often, leaving :just her legs protruding from under the sink as if it had suddenly swallowed her up. Having regained our senses, we Hy to the rescue, like the daring Young knight on a silver charger. VVe calm the little woman and send her off to clean up while we do the job up brown. VVhen at last we have bundled her off to church, we settle down to the task at hand. Now let's go at this in a scientific way. We decide, first of all, to examine the pipe and discern the ailment. As we attempt to squeeze our head and shoulders into a space large enough for a very small pekinese, we see that this method of examination is all wrong. Now, how are we going to see up under the sink? Ah! An idea hits us! Where did Billy keep that toy periscope? We dash upstairs, ransack Billy's drawers, fremoving them entirely from the bureau and putting them on the bedj and fly down again with the toy periscope in hand. After standing on our head holding the periscope in one hand and balancing iourselves with the other, we finally hnd the source of the trouble. just as we thought. The pipe is frozen in the elbow between the sink and the cellar. We decide that the only way to fix this is to disconnect the elbow and bring it up to the kitchen to thaw out. VVe enter the cellarway with caution. lfVow! It's dark in here. Groping around for the light switch, we hit our head on the cupboard door. Ah l There's the light! No, it's just a star. It must be over here. Ouch! So that's where she keeps all the niousetraps. At last we find the switch. A sorry sight greets our eyes. There are a clothes basket full of dirty clothes, an axe, an ironing board, and a wooden saw horse, complete with buck-saw, arranged carefully just where we want to step. Oh, well, it won't take long to move them. We were right-half an hour isn't really long. VVhen at last we get down cellar, and shut off the water, we discover that the pipe is screwed on so tightly that it is impossible to remove the elbow with our wrench. Fired with enthusiasm, we dash upstairs and bring back the hammer. Holding a flashlight between our teeth, the wrench in one hand, and the hammer in the other, we finally extract the elbow. Now let's see. That kettle would be iust the thing to put it in. lVe'll simply take it up and set it on the stove. It will be all right in a moment. Crash! What's that? We dash madly into the cellarway, only to find that the clothes basket has fallen down cellar. Well, we shan't give up all hope yet. We