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Page 32 text:
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Canal Currents Bourne High School The Well-dressed Girl I THINK the A, B, C, D, E rule is the only rule stating in five simple words how a girl can be a well-dressed girl. The rule, which no doubt you know, is that a girl is well dressed when she is attractively, becomingly, correctly, distinctively, and economically dressed. If any of the five adverbs were left out, the rule would no longer des- cribe a well-dressed girl. I think we should consider the A, B, Q D, E of the well-dressed girl to prove that each adverb is as important as the other. A girl is attractively dressed when you, a well-bred girl, want to turn your head to look admiringly at her. Clothes are becoming when they make you appear at your best. There are tricks in all trades, and the right dress in the right place is an important one to master. Distinctive clothes help to high-light, to accent you. Make your clothes bring out the distinctive you” that sets you apart from your friends. Economical clothes are those that, cost- ing much or little at the outset, cost little in upkeep after you begin to wear them. I think it is very important to every girl that she be well dressed at all times. Mary Cecchi, ’46 Our Tenants O UR cottage had been vacant for some time now and we were just on the verge of giving up hope, when one nice sunny day in April, we happened to look out and much to our surprise we found a family looking it over. With great expectations, we dashed around and tried to get the gardens, etc., in ship-shape condition so that they would think we were the perfect land- lords. Well, we also hustled around and prepared a little lunch for them so as to urge them on. When at last it was prepared, we opened the door and very cautiously and quietly crept near them, depositing the lunch within their reach. It did not take long for them to dispose of this snack and now that they had lunched, we figured it would be easy enough to talk over a little business with them. They didn’t say much, but finally it looked as though matters were coming to a close and in our favor. They did. At last our wishes had come true, or so we thought, and we would have some very nice neighbors living beside us. But alas! Our happiness surelv did not take long to end. A few hours after our little interview, they began moving their furniture in, and much to our astonishment, they could not even get it in the door. All our dreams went haywire, but we won’t give up hope yet because it is still quite early in the season, and maybe some other little birds will want to move into our cute little cottage next door. Dorothy Tripp, ’46 Page Thirty
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Page 31 text:
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Bourne t igh School Canal Currents A Blue Plug O NE evening several summers ago, I was bass fishing along the banks of the Cape Cod Canal. As I remember it, there was no strain on my rod as a result of too many fish. I noticed a little speck floating down next to the bank in the slew current, but thinking it only a piece of driftwood, 1 let it go at that. Soon that piece of driftwood floated right by me and then I saw that it was an oli, battered, wooden bass plug. Naturally 1 scooped it out of the w ' ater and examined it. The paint was all chipped and three- cuarters off and the hooks were rusted and dull. I slipped it into my tackle box. That night after I got home, 1 painted. I painted it colors that 1 had never seen before on bass plugs. I gave it a deep blue back and a white stomach. Next morning when 1 arose at dawn, 1 put that old plug in my box and took it down to the Canal with me. There were no fish around and nobody was catching any. I was standing on a big rock and casting out a tin squid with a pork rind, letting it slide down in the current just enough so as to reel it in slowly over a little sand ledge jutting out into the Canal. That spot often produced bass when others did not. but not this morning. A fishing friend of mine drove in with his car and walked down to me. He took a look through my tackle box to see what 1 had for baits. He told me to put on the blue plug. I looked at him and laughed out loud. I told him that if some of the other anglers saw me with that thing on, they would throw me in. He w ' as a persistent cuss and brought the plug down to me and made me snap it on. I did and gave it a heave out into the water. I let it float down current and brought it in over the sand ledge slowly, giving it a jerk once in a while so that it somewhat resembled a wounded mackerel. Just as I reeled it in over the ledge, a bass slammed at it with a vengeance. I guess he was provoked at such an ungodly colored fish as that in the water. I played the fish a few minutes and then landed him. Out of the next six casts I took four bass and then they quit for good, but I had a total of five in about as many minutes. I could have sold that plug for four dollars to a certain man but I was too proud of it to .sell it. How many tackle boxes along the Canal banks do not have at least one blue plug in them and how many tackle stores do not have a couple of hun- dred of them selling like hotcakes? I do not claim any credit for the blue plug although I’d never seen any before that. I guess I owe it all to my friend’s stubbornness. Laurence Jackson, ’47 Page Twenty -nine
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Page 33 text:
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Bourne High School Canal Currents War T he two men were arguing. One said, War, there’s no reason for it.” The other replied, There’ll always be wars. They are inevitable.” Day in and day out, you hear this same argument. Why should there be wars? Who causes them? They are traceable to you and me. We are ' the cause for these worldwide conflicts. If Jimmy and Johnny are out playing in the field, there’s bound to be an argument between them. Johnny will want to be boss, but so will Jim. It’s the same way with us. We are just a minute example of the things that tend to make Germany and Japan what they are. We say, It would be different if I were running things.” Would it? I doubt it. We would want our country to be the greatest of them all. We are nothing but a bunch of six-year-old Jimmies and Johnnies playing with our more expensive toys. We argue over money and power, whether it be $10,000, or ten cents, one small toy, or one big island. I personally agree with the second fellow in the argument. Wars are inevitable,” unless we change our ways and all do our own, seemingly small, part to make a better, peaceful world. Richard Forsyth, ’47 Patience A S you probably know, the Aeronautics Class are making model airplanes which is pajrt of the course. Day after day the boys work patiently at their models. Except sometimes when we lose our patience. One of the reasons we lose our patience is the slow-drying glue. You stand there holding a piece of wood waiting for the glue to dry. After holding it for a lifetime, you release the pressure on the wood and it snaps back out of place again. That, you say to yourself, is the last straw. You have been standing there holding that piece of wood waiting for the glue to dry; you have stood there through thick and thin, rain and shine, at least that is what it seems like to you. Only to have the wood snap out of place again. You are just about to heave the tube of glue in the ash can, drop the unfinished model on the floor, and walk all over it, when something stops you. You look at the plane which is almost done, and you say to your- self: if you were to quit now, you would be considered a coward, afraid to battle the forces of impatience. So you calmly try it again, while all the time you are trying to keep the bad words from coming out. Then you turn around to converse in low tones with the boys and your eyes fall on a lad over in the corner who is having the same trouble as you are. You see his eyes flashing fire as he tries vainly to get the piece of wood to dry. Finally his patience becomes exhausted and he picks up the unfinished model and crushes it like a rose. You turn away in agony, saying that you will not let the forces of impatience win over you. So you calmly try it again. David Clegg, ’47 U Page Thirty -one
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