Bancroft School - Blue Moon Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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THE BLUE MOON 57 troupe. It is queer that they should come here, when there are so many inns near the theatres, Perhaps they are traveling actors just entering London. After quenching their thirst, one brings out a fiddle and another sings, and the tavern is livened with hilarious music. A man comes toward me and sits down at a nearby table. He seems more gentlemanly than the usual fre- quenters of this tavern. He puts his head in his hands and stares at his fellow actors. His lips move, and I catch a phrase of what he is murmuring: Time and the hour runs through the roughesz day. I nudge a neighbor, who, in response to my question, mumbles, That's Shakespeare-just lost all his money on some gamble-writes plays and acts. The name is unfamiliar, I take one last draught, pay for it with a promise, and shamble out. ELEANOR DANIELS, 1935 MORNING . HE grandfather clock in the hall musically strikes six notes. Drowsily you listen to it, secretly wondering why in the world clocks have to strike anyway: they are just a bother, waking you up at such unearthly hours. As you turn over for another forty winks, you realize with a start that you are in the country now, and six is the rising hour here. Tentatively you stick one foot out. Brr -- it's cold. Hastily you pull the aforesaid foot back into the warmth of the bed. Then you make another try at it, Taking a long breath, you pull both feet out and plant them firmly on the cold floor. Donning your slippers and bathrobe, you go over to close the win- dow, and an icy breeze greets you. While you are shutting the window, you find that Old Man Winter and Jack Frost have been having a merry time of it, for the landscape is blanketed with fluffy snow, the kind that packs down into wonderful slides. Getting dressed, you welcome the heavy clothes that you scorned on leaving the city. As you go down the stairs to the kitchen, the smell of bran muflins floats up to you, and makes your descent even more rapid. When the cook isn't looking, you steal one of her hot, crispy muflins, and everything looks rosy again. On your way out to the barn, you are greeted by the sun, which is making the snow sparkle like millions of little diamonds. In the barn everyone is busy, some milking the cows, others putting hay in the stalls, and you feel in the way. Wait, what's this? A hungry little kitten is cautiously trying to steal some milk from one of the pails. Look out, there! No, she doesn't look out, for in she goes with a wail of despair. You play life-guard and pull her out, all wet and dripping. After you have comforted the kitten, you get permission to give the sampled milk to the calf.

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56 THE BLUE MOON Henry Esmond whispered softly to her, HI want To Have and To Hold you, and he put his arms around Mary's Neck. Tish, Tish, murmured Mary, It was Springtime for Henry, and he was all Love. There was a Silent Wz'tness to this love affair, a Mr. Aesop, a man of uncertain reputation, who let it be known throughout the Judith Paris that he thought Mary a Bad Girl, who would try to hurry Mr. Esmond into a Consolation Marriage. Just an Impatient Maiden! When Henry heard this tale, he rushed madly to Mary, who denied all such rumors, and cried wildly, The Cheat! That's only one of Aesop's Fables. Time flew as it will when one is with Good Companions, and only Twenty-four Hours remained before the boat docked. The last evening Henry, determined to be The Conqueror, averred, The Crisis is reached. You must decide Tonight or Never. He was in Suspense. As she looked into A Pair of Blue Eyes. she felt The Call of the IVild and answered, I Surrender! The Sentimental Journey ended the next day. ELEANOR THAYER and FAITH ADAMS, 1933 A THING OF BEAUTY THE sun was just up one day as I was walking through the woods. It was during the season when lady's slippers are in blossom, and there were clumps of pink ones everywhere. I turned a bend in the narrow path I was following, and there, against a background of dull gray rock, stood a beautiful white lady's slipper. The ground was damp and covered with green and gray moss, and her fresh, oval-shaped leaves lay in a circle around her stem. She stood up straight and held her lovely white head high in the air. No artist could paint a more beautiful picture. ELIZABETH BRANCH, 1934 A NIGHT IN A TAVERN 1585 I AM sitting on a remote bench in a squalid tavern on the outskirts of London. I have drunk a few mugs of ale and am wholly satisfied with the world in general. Since my last bed was too hard, I have decided to make merry with my friend, the inn-keeper. He is a good soul and has al- ways lent me a few shillings to pay my many creditors. The door opens, let- ting in a gust of chilly air, and I draw my meagre cloak a little closer. A rowdy crowd has staggered in and is shouting for beer, and yet more beer. They are ragged and ill-shaven, and at first glance, would be called merely a group of merry-makers. But, upon closer examination, I find them to be an acting

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58 THE BLUE MOON As you watch him hungrily guzzling the milk, you feel a wee bit hungry yourself, and the sound of the breakfast gong brings you hurrying to the house. Then you sit down to a steaming plate of golden-brown sausages and flaky muflins with the butter oozing out on all sides. Leaning back in your chair you think, The farm isn't such a bad place after all. BARBARA MACPARLAND, 1935 TRAFFIC COPS OF THE AIR ABOUT half a mile above noisy cities and towns, the radio policemen are floating around in their baskets, which are suspended from balloons. They are as busy as most of the folk traveling about on the surface of the earth at 7 A. M. 'AJoe, if you'll steer that wave of jazz to the left, I'll let these setting-up exercises by, calls Tom: and then, in a low mumble, he adds, we've got to co-operate with the rotund old ladies and gentlemen so that they can once again tie their own shoestringsf' On old terra iirma, even in the cities, the weary trafiic officer occasionally enjoys a lull. Not so up there! Zig-zag across the thoroughfare go the devotional services. A hand goes up to guide them to the conscientious folk who think maybe they'd best watch out lest the wrong gate open for them on Judgment Day. Hey, Pal, calls Joe, give this highbrow music its right of way, and have an eye to the 'hints to young housekeepersf Don't make the mistake of thinking that our radio cops can steal a moment to sit back and enjoy the scenery. They must guide the radio waves so that there will be no conflict. Just catch them dreaming! The old ladies and gentle- men listening in on a beautiful concert, would think the world was really coming to an end if there were a terrific discord and a combination of concert, jazz, play, skit, and speech, all muddled in one awful racket. Hey, Tom, watch out over there! There's a congressman advancing, and if you're not careful, he'll collide with the reverend. Head off that football hero now: his remarks won't blend with the advice to mothers. It's an exciting life up there in the sky. One evening the Aurora Borealis appeared and threw the electricity of the air out of control. WHAT STATIC! The devoted listeners to Eddie Cantor jumped up from their bridge game to turn the switch. An intoxicated group quitted their play of affection to turn off the lights, thinking the police had arrived. The excited boy who had been listening to a mystery story wondered who was killed. These are only some of the disturbances that a conscientious traffic cop of the air strives to control. No wonder he growls, Well, it's about time my reliever came, and then exclaims, gleefully, So long: I'l1 see you all again at five, when I go on. MARY ATWOOD, 1935