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Page 31 text:
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There is nothing which gives a Senior quite so many thrills as the last few exciting moments before setting off for that snowbound village in the New Hampshire hills. We pile into the sleigh much besmothered in fur coats and happy way down to the tips of our toes. We are down the hill and scrambling onto the platform in an incredibly short time. The train steams into the station, pulling a private coach after it. We clamber in and spread ourselves out its full length. At Haverhill Mr. Bassett gets aboard, and what a jolly, joking man he is! Before the end of the ride he has us all named and labeled and fed with cookies, bananas and chocolate, until we feel as though we were at a county fair. As we near our journey ' s end, the mountains loom up on either side, all glittering in their white coats, their rugged sides enveloped in clouds of purple mist. Finally the train pulls up to the little station and we jump out and into a barge and off we go ploughing our way through the snow to the hotel where a warm welcome is waiting for us. In less than no time we pull out our sweaters, caps and wooly gloves to try our luck at skiing on the slippery hill outside the door. Our dignified Betty seizes a bicycle on runners and makes a grand sweep down the hill, her coat-tails flying. After a triumphant ride she comes puffing up the hill to tell us what fun it is. We try it, but some of us arise from a snowbank not so triumphant as Betty. Chuck and Mary have a scheme of placing two skis together and sitting on them with Hunkie on behind as ballast. At length Jane interrupts us by saying, There goes the supper bell. I speak for the tenderloin. 27
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Page 32 text:
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After supper some hunt their knitting and sink into chairs too tired to utter a sound. A few, not content with indoor sports, put o n their woolies and go out into the moonlight to try the toboggan chute. They come back later, spattered with snow, and thrilled with the sensation of speeding down the frozen chute into the great unknown. After a few songs and a long cheer for Mr. Bassett we go to bed. Some of us have a little trouble in finding our right clothes. They seem to have mysteriously disappeared and when found have a very queer way of resisting all attempts to get into them. It can ' t be they are sewed together! After laboriously ripping stitches we give a sigh of relief and plunge into our beds to strike crumbs, toothpicks, hair-brushes, even wet sponges. Who could have been so cruel! The next day dawns beautifully clear and crisp and as we descend to the breakfast table sighs and groans escape as each one puts her foot on the stair and feels her muscles give a twinge of pain. Mr. Bassett greets us with a plan of a bacon bat in the woods and a climb of Mt. Surprise. We enthusiastically accept his invitation, hiding the thought of our weary, aching legs. So we take a long, up-hill tramp on snowshoes through Cathedral Woods to a clearing some two miles distant where Rex, Mr. Bassett ' s right-hand man, has started a fire, and the coffee- pot is boiling. Nothing could taste so delicious as that picnic in the snow, with the green pine trees the only onlookers. After the fire is beaten out, we continue our climb toward the mountain- top, a few deserters having turned back toward the village. Our snowshoes finally become useless and we climb with difficulty, our hands pawing the snow in front of us and our feet slipping at every step. Finally at the summit we stand upright and look about us in wonder at the peaceful, green pine trees below and the mountain peaks rising on every side. After a brief rest we make the descent and commence our trail back to habitation and a warm supper. We are a tired but very happy crowd that tumble into bed that night, to dream of another whole day of just such fun. The next day is filled with all sorts of sports. The long sleighride in the afternoon through country lovely in its winter dress is one long to be remembered by us all. The following morning we don the clothes of civilization and before we know it arejsvhisked off to the station, thinking with regret that our four short days at Intervale are over. 28
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