Bucksport High School - Hillcrest Yearbook (Bucksport, ME)

Page 23 text:

A Little Learning Is Sometimes a Dangerous Thing In the days of prohibition when liquor was scarcer than h-it is now, many people in desperation looked in all directions to find al- cohol to drink. Someone heard that there was a considerable amount Cof alcoh-oll in such products as lemon extract and canned heat. Grocers couldn't figure out the sud- den demand for these products which they never before had much sale for. But when the wise birds sampled their new form of alcohol they discovered that it had a very intoxicating effect. In fact it had about the same effect as castor oil only it put the sufferer out of his misery. This is also true of other alcoholic products, so remember just because it contains alcohol don't try antifreeze. -Charles Kloss, '40. THE DOOMED MAN The man had been sitting there a long time-for eternity it seem- ed to him. In. a few minutes it would be his turn to walk that last mile. The man had led a good life and had done no harm to anyone, but tragedy befalls many of us and it had this man. The perspiration rolled off him and fell to the floor in large drops, as he thought of the ordeal to come. Many thoughts raced through his mind. Will it hurt much? Will it be over quick- ly? Will I scream? All these thoughts raced through his mind. Oh! moaned the man, what have I done to deserve this? Just then a long screech echoed through the room. His hair stood on end and he started to pace the room. Back and forth, back and forth he paced. Oh! moaned the man, why must I go, even my family has turn- ed against me to send me here. The zero hour arrived and a door opened at the end of the room. A large portly man stood framed in the doorway. It is your turn, he said. The doomed man walked through the door into a room, with a huge chair at one end. Sit in it, commanded the port- ly man. The doomed man submitted ineekly. He was strapped in tight- y. Ready? asked the executioner. Ready, replied the doomed man, will it be over quickly? Yes, replied the executioner, what will it be, gas or novacaine- that tooth is pretty bad. -Joseph Nickless, '41. LES CHAPEAUX You show me a woman's hat and I'll tell you what kind of a woman she is. First, there's the sweet thing in a beribboned poke bonnet tied un- der her round little chin. She looks sweet sixteen but that hat neutrali- zes the rest of the adage. She dim- ples and coos from beneath the shadowy awning. She is a rare or- chid and often as poisonous. The next type always feels at home in a frame. She's a picture and her finish varies from the neg- ative to perfect development. She never wears rouge, for she believes in the outline technique. Her mouth is scarlet bow or something Page 21

Page 22 text:

THE IRONY OF FATE The sun dawned on a little fish- ing village on an island off the coast of Newfoundland , casting its rays through the rising vapor that island on always enveloped the cold bleak days such as this. None of the coldness, however, could touch the heart of this little fisher- man's child. Why, wasn't she the happiest girl in the world? Wasn't she going to the mainland to start her elementary education tomor- row? Of course she was happy. Nothing could stand in her way now that her usually rigid father had given in to his small daughter this once. It was today or never for her be- cause soon the great width that was the river would freeze over' for the winter and the picturesque riv- er boats would discontinue their run to the mainland. She was quite safe though. Hadn't her father promised that the freezing weather would not -come for at least a month? He had read it in the sun- set only last night. This morning though she awoke and shivered. She knew not why, for her bed was warm and cozy. Maybe it was the excitement, she thought. Then came the loud, clear ringing of the chapel bells, tolling out their message. The ice! It had come in the night and choked out all contact with the mainland! There in that river of ice. hope and illusion were drowned by un- -conquerable fate. -Mura Small, '40. A LITERARY STROLL The Foolish Virgin , deciding that she had done sufficient labor for The Twenty-fourth of June , took Beautiful Joe and started on a stroll. Ever since she was So Big she had favored nice long walks, and this was an ideal day. With her Sketch Book under her arm, she and the dog started down Main Street . When they reached The Pool of Stars , she threw sticks in the Undertow for Beautiful Joe to fish out. They took the winding path through the woods and soon they came to the pasture where Black Beauty was grazing. They rested by The Mill on the Floss much longer than they had intended, and upon start- ing for home, they found it was nearly twilight. The Virgin noticed A Light in the Clearing and much to her surprise found that Rip Van Winkle , The Virginian , had in- habited The Enchanted Barn . Following the Trail of the Lone- some Pine , she encountered The Girl of the Limberlost . She was carrying The Magic Umbrella . Page 20 Why are you carrying that? Because I don't want to get 'Freckles' , the girl answered. Where are you living now? asked Ruth , the Virgin. We have moved to the House of Seven Gables . I should like you to bring some of your friends' to my Home as I get very Lonesome . Do you ever see 'Little Dor- rit' ? Yes, I often see her in 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. We go there to read 'The Fun of being a Mother', said 'The Girl of the Limberlost'. Suddenly a noise attracted their attention. Beautiful Joe had seen Blackie, the Cat who was his Dear Enemy , and was chas- ing him for his very Life , Beautiful Joe ran and hid un- der the doorstep of Bleak House . It was a tired Foolish Virgin and Beautiful Joe who finally reached Trick Away House in Rainbow Valley . As it was very late they entered the house very. quietly by the Secret Stairs . -Patricia Phillis, '40.

Page 24 text:

similar, but like most outlines, she isn't always too comprehensible. Oh yes, I grant you the girl in the chapeau is as pretty as a picture, taking into consideration the candid camera brigade. Here comes Dr. Carter. What is that with him? Right you are, it's a pill box. So perky, so chic, and so silly! A gale of wind, so what? Didn't you know that an elastic band under that neat roll holds this unstable creation in place? Office girls and gay young matrons are his most faithful clientites. There comes a street car filled to overflowing--hats, hats, hats! Wish we had time to get a load of 'em. We're in luck. The Bangor Bul- let is losing speed, and also two young--well, quite young-ladies. Here's one we can't miss. It's Miss Spinster, who knows she should be conservative, but oh, for just one bow! She compromises with a brown band. The brown felt just succeeds in concealing her eye- brows. An inconspicuous little brown feather is shoved daringly under the band. She walks dciiant- ly but feels not too disagreeable to be so frilly and feminine. With her is the Mona Lisa of the millinery shop. The soft felt with the round crown and adjustable brim, which can be worn up if your hair is curl- ed and down if the clock didn't alarm, adorns her head. This girl may be any age as long as she wears saddle shoes and socks. Hats to me are true character guides. I must be going but re- member, any resemblances to per- sons living or dead are purely coin- -cidental. Yes, yes, I'm leaving just as soon as I get my hat. --Margaret Allen, 41. CHARACTER SKETCH A stranger to the school will no- tice very quickly that one character seems to predominate. When a certain step is heard in the hall, all unnecessary noice issuing from the adjoining rooms is abolished. It is surprising how many places this person seemingly, may be at one time. At first glance one observes a tall figure enter the room. Upon more careful examination one notes this person to bare a stern countenance and to be of athletic type. His hair is not only sprinkled with gray but has also become somewhat thin. He is very neat and tidy in appearance, which fact probably shows that he has a good wife. He is an excel- lent teacher, one who insists that the lesson be learned thoroughly. It can be truthfully said that he is deeply respected by all who know him. I feel certain there can be no con- fusion in the mind of the listener as to the person of whom I am speak- ing. He is to the school as a com- pass is to a ship. -Frances Brown, '40. MORNING There! it's rising! rising! glowing! growing! rising higher! Till against the morning sky it spreads as if it were aflre. Can it be a thing of fright, a thing of irony and might? Page 22 Softly, softly does it rise higher, higher, as time Hiesg Till at last on the world it glows, for then my friends the sun has rose! -Robert Coombs, '40,