Central High School - Aglaia Yearbook (Manchester, NH)

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IUNE AGLAIA NUMBER or T1-113 GRACLE 17 VACATION DAYS There's a bank, where daisies blossom By a little noiiy creek, There's a wall ywith climbing ivy, Where the sun' plays hide and seek. There's a sweetgrass scented meadow, Where the beeb hum all day long, There's a cherily tree where robins Sing their gayest, sweetest song. There's a pathll love to follow, Where a sparkling river plays And my heartlis filled with longing For those sweet vacation days. l ADOREE GRENIER. ,..il i. KENTUCKY TO BROADWAY On one of tlilose miserable, dark, rainy days the show fblded up in a little town in Kentucky after lbsing money in every village from New York to Kentucky, so it wasn't surprising, although one little girl wasn't pre- pared for it. 5 Barbara gazed down the sleepy street, which passed the small hotel porch, wonder- ing what she slhould do next. What could she do to earn money in the town to ger her carfare back to New York? The rest of the troupe had wired home or drawn our their savings, but sheihad no home to wire to and her savings-well, she had them in the palm of her hand, two thin dimes. As for borrow- ing from the others, they were having their own troubles without worrying about her. If she could only get back to New York maybe she could get a chance in Zinger's latest play. She had heard he was looking for new talent. l Barbara's lips curved bitterly. If she could only get to New York. She had plenty of new talent. Suddenly she heard voices be- hind her. Onel was saying: Mr. Zinger, it seems such a ciiazy thing to do. You have a hillbilly play, and so you come to Kentucky, not to get local color as the public expected, but to get a new star. Why not take one from New York? Barbara's skin prickled. Mr. Zinger, Mr. Roger Zinger, who was producing this new play she had just been thinking of. Call it wild or crazy, the other voice was speaking now, Call it anything you want but the theater needs new talent and new blood. I'm going to find it. Unless l can find a girl who was raised in the hillza, a girl who has Kentucky in her veins and in her heart I'll never put on that playf, Hidden by the back of the leather chair, Barbara sat tensely waiting, her heart pound- ing. Well, the first voice again, You've got nerve, hunting for a star in a dump like this. Now just one more question Mr. Zinger 'I Sorry, the voice was less plain, he was moving away. I'm on my way into the hills this afternoon. I'm staying at Old Iane's place, and I won't be back until I have a star tucked under my arm. Barbara bit her lips thoughtfully as she sank back into the chair. New talent, where would he find it out here? f'Old Iane's place for headquarters. Star tucked under his arm. She had it. oa in a cloud of dust to her room, she was new talent. She, at Old Ianels place! She, the star tucked under his arrn. H' The next morning, with the bright sun beating down upon her shining bare head, as she trudged along the dusty mountain road, Barbara was dressed in a red and blue check- ed gingham dress which she had got from the chambermaid in exchange for her own stylish suit. In the early hours of the dawn, she had slipped out of the hotel. At six, she washed her face in a cool stream to refresh herself. At ten olclock the tiny village was far be- hind, She was headed for Old Iane's. Cau- tious questioning of the sleepy hotel clerks

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16 IUNE ACSLAIA NUMBER or THE ORACLE CONTENTMENT A soft breeze, Fragrant flowers, Green leaves, Languid hours, A bird's song, A splashing stream, Nothing wrong- A summer dream! CROFTON THORP. SKIING AT MOUNT WASHINGTON In the Easter vacation of 1936 we started for Mount Washington, Roger Sanborn, Buster Truesdale, and I. We arrived at our destination, Pinkham Notch, at about three o'clock on a Monday afternoon. The climb was a hard one, because we had to carry enough provisions for four days. Our lug- gage consisted of skis, poles, cooking utensils, food, blankets and a small portable Kamp- cook stove. Arriving at the Half-way huts about eight o'clock, we built our fires and then went to bed on fir boughs, very comfortable to sleep on. A most exciting thing happened to us at Tucherman's Ravine. Sanborn had reached the top of the head wall and was about to fasten on his skis when he lost his balance and, with the help of the wind, came sliding down the side of the Ravine. As he went by us, we jumped on him. Lucky for him that we did, becausehe was headed for a rock. That night it rained, and the water loosen- ed the snow and started an avalanche. We heard it from the camp. It made a low rumbling sound that grew louder and more terrible as it came, bending or breaking every tree in its path. We jumped up and went out, but could not see a thing because it was so dark. The next day was a dreary one. It was still raining, but we wanted to go up to the Ravine to see what happened the night before. The opening into it was blocked. In the distance we could see the water coming off the head wall. That made up our minds. We started down the mountains for home. The brook had risen from two to three feet over night. Sanborn crossed it with difficul- ty, and Buster and I threw our luggage across to him. We finally got to the bottom. The trip home was uneventful except for the T- bone steak we had in Laconia. EDWIN MOORE. A NEW HAT Easter! What does that mean to you? A few days' vacation, real start of spring, a new suit? Maybe so. To me it means the spell of mad hilarity ...... this buying a new hat. An Easter bonnet, to me, is more than just any kind of hat. It seems as if it is a bit of spring, a whiff of apple blossoms, the song of a bird. Because it is so symbolical, I am very particular what kind of hat I buy. I go prepared to fight it out to the end. From an advance showing of new chap- eaux, I know that this season I shall spend another crazy period looking for a spring headgear. I was all ready with a sweet dis- position Q which lasted only at the first starej, a friend, a comb and a mirror, and a deter- mined mind to find a hat that not only was chic, and becoming, but one that was fairly respectable-looking. For weeks, I know I shall be haunted by those hats. Small ones! Big ones! Wide brims! Narrow brimsl Greta Garbo hats! Ginger Roger's hats! Sailor hats! Soldier's hats! Arabian turbans: Mandarin hats! Flow- ers, oh Howers Everywhere, on top, all over the top, on one side or the other, in front, in back! Oh, heavens, was there no end? But it was all in vain! What had I to show for it-a darling hat, a chic model, a bit of spring, a flowery turban-oh, no. I had a headache! BARBARA HEAD.

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13 IUNE AGLAIA NUMBER OF THE ORACLE informed her of the route. Now it was only a matter of time before she would reach her destination as a simple country girl looking for work. That's what she planned to tell. After- ward. she would have to work out the rest of her scheme. Somehow, she would make Zinger see that she was the girl he was look- ing for. Soon she came to Iane's place and found Mr. Zinger stretched out on the steps. She advanced slowly brushing the curls away from her forehead. Hello, stranger, she breathed in a low voice. I can't say's I've seen you arounl these parts afore. Where's your home? The man got to his feet, his glance never leaving her face. I am a stranger, he agreed smiling. My home is in New York. New York, she whispered, clasping her hands. I always wanted to go to New York. She wasn't playing a game now. She was a mountain girl, in a gingham dress, with dreams burning in her black eyes. She spread the short skirt in her grimy hands and took a couple of gliding steps, throwing back her head and lifting her face to the sky. New York. Barbara almost sang the words. Do they dance like this? For a long moment she whirled there, her legs fairly twinkling, her hair flying out be- hind her like a stream of Fire. She was youth, dancing a dream, and then with a laugh she sank down and was still, her chin in her hands, her eyes staring into Roger's face. Tell me about it, she murmured. Tell me about the purty ladies. Tell me about the theater where girls dance, and men throw posies at theah feet. A moment before she had been a flame. Now she was quiet as a deep stream, calm as a still lake dreaming in the sun. Roger Zinger stood very still, like a man who doesn't dare breathe for fear he will blow away a vision. Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed triumphantly. As she heard that laugh, Barbara knew that she had not failed. He believed in her. MARIORIE LINDAHL. INTRODUCTION TO A SWIMMING POND ' Step on that board, Fell the spring in it? Here's the tree I told you of- The one with the swing in it. Over there's dangerous- Beware a sunken log, No good out beyond that- There's just a shallow bog. DONALD L. IRVING. THE SPORT OF FALL The opening of the football season in the fall is very thrilling for the members of the squad. The coach at once warns the players to keep in shape and gives them training rules such as getting plenty of sleep, avoid- ing certain foods, and giving up cigarettes. The coach knows the work the athlete does causes him to lose weight and the only way he can gain it back is sleep. Athletes usually sleep from eight to ten hours daily. The practice starts promptly at three o'clock and usually ends two hours later. Then the player walks home, eats his supper, and commences his studies. If he is badly bruised or very tired, he will not want to do his studies. On the other hand, if he is not affected by the practice he will attack his studies with order. In the morning the play- er wakes up in a rather stiff condition from yesterday's initial practice, eats wholesome food, and starts off for school. His relaxa- tion is sleep, and no one has to tell him, either.