Central High School - Aglaia Yearbook (Manchester, NH)

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18 IANUARY AGLAIA or THE ORACLE coiffes, nun-like, old houses of granite en- closed this swarm of people, old roofs related their struggles of several centuries against the west winds, against the sprays, the rains, against all the attacks of the sea. Of all this turmoil Gaud has a confused recollection. In the square where there were games and clowns, she walked with her friends who named for her, right and left, the young men of Paimpol or Ploubazlanec. In front of the men singing the ballads, a group of these Icelanders was stopping, with their backs turned. Struck by the sight of one of them who was as tall as a giant, she had said simply, even with a degree of mock- ery: There is a big fellow. It was he- Yann. Ernst Mensen By Sol Millman Ernst Mensen was probably the most mar- velous athlete in his line that the world has ever seen and possibly the best it ever will see. A Norwegian by birth, he served as a sailor on a British man-of-war, distinguishing himself in many naval battles. However, his real interest was long-distance running which he kept at all his life. This remarkable athlete strengthened his leg muscles in his childhood by running about the mountains of which his country largely consists. His legs weren't very large, to be exact, they were a trifle short in com- parison with the length of the trunk of his body. However, his chest was of unusual depth. As Mensen grew up, he developed a re- markable wind, so remarkable that it seemed as if the youth were tireless. And the boy ran for the pleasure of running-just as boys now play football. Meanwhile, he grew up and somehow joined the British Navy. Once, Mensen, be- ing short of cash, ran from London to Ports- mouth in nine hours. He found this method of travel cheap and enjoyable, and soon after ran from London to Liverpool, about four hundred miles by road-pausing for rest twice only and not lying down as any other human being would have done, but leaning against a tree with a handkerchief over his face. In all his journeys, this was his way of resting, he would eat very little-a few bis- cuits and a bit of raspberry jam being his favorite nourishment. Sporting men began to pay attention to him. He was matched with one after another of the local celebrities at distances of from five to twenty-five miles, but he defeated them all so easily and with so little effort that soon none could be found to oppose him, and his professional career languished. But in Paris, in 1831, he was brought to the notice ofa Russian nobleman, and a wager was made between this person and a few of his sporting friends to send him from Paris to Moscow, 1760 miles. The time al- lowed him was four weeks, and he was to be accompanied by two couriers on horseback to see that the conditions were observed-1760 miles in twenty-eight days would be at the rate of about sixty-three miles a day. Mensen completed the distance at the rate of one hundred twenty-five miles a day. The couriers reported that he had gone at a steady pace all the way, stopping once each day for fifteen minutes, leaning against a post or a tree trunk with a cloth over his face. The couriers had been obliged to take fresh mounts from three to four times daily, and they were themselves quite exhausted. But Mensen arrived apparently as unwearied as when he set out, to the utter astonishment not only of those who had wagered against him, but of his own backer, whose winnings were very large, and who presented Mensen with about fifty dollars for each day he was on the road. Mensen did this work to the last days of

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LITERARY 17 This is the Polish Primeval By Fred LZIFVIIWICCY He hates my painted fingernails. I hate his being late. I apply the polish with Hendish glee, And chew it off ........ while I wait! That was one woman's reaction to the con- temporary male revolt against female-foolish- ness in the matter of nail polish. Although we believe in punctuality, and we deplore the method used by the above young man in winning on both counts, we cannot but ad- mire his ingenuity. Now they're having them blackened, and there are even faint rumors along the style fronts that glistening bits of tinsel will be added to the maddening, barbaric urge for female self-adornment. Our morning coffee will now be poured by dazzling, bejeweled fingertips, and by the time our coffee is ready, perhaps a new shade, Cafe au Lait will add its monochromatic scheme to the break- fast table. And if there is a slip twixt the cup and the lip, it will hardly be noticed. For the picnicker-a variegated holiday display of Mustard Moonlightf' Relish Ravissant, Luscious Lemon, Ch:-irmante Cherry, and Harrnonious Ham. These, of course, as the day wears on fand the polish wears offj may be augmented by the usual blacks and blues, sprinkled with a little wee- bit of a soupcon of Melodramatic Marsh- mallowf' For the movie-goer-gobs of Garbo-Gan denia, Hepburn Henna, Crawford Chrys- anthemum or possibly Tiny Tinsels in the Temple Manner. For the opera-goer-something a little more sedate perhaps. May we suggest Wag- ner Vermilion, Handel Heliotropej' Puc- cini Purple, or Mozart Mauve -or for an added touch of sentimentality, Chopin Chartreusef' Now we really should get the outdoor sports in. QThat's where the female would like them anywayj For swimming- Weis muller Walnut , for skating- Henie ...,...,, .. let's call the whole thing off! If the female sex could, by some unfore- seen miracle, become practical enough to in- troduce an illuminated polish for moonlight bathing, some of our grievances might disap- pear in the new Light. But, it has come very forcibly to our attention that there is nothing practical in the daubing of fingernails and- yes, fellow sufferers-even toenailsl What is the reason? We have dug into the archives, we have roved through reams of research material, and have found that this yen for primitive painting is all done to at- tract, to lure, and finally to ensnare the help lessly hypnotized HE. If they only knew! Translation from Pecheur D'lslande by Pierre By Cf!'77l'l'il'l'C' Bilfos The first time that Gaud had noticed Yann was the day after his arrival at the religious feast called Pardon by the Icelanders, on the eighth day of December, the day dedicat- ed to Our Lady of Good-News, the patroness of the fishermen. A little after the procession, the dark streets were still adorned with white sheets to which had been fastened some ivy and holly, some greens, and winter flowers. It was very noisy in Paimpol with the sounds of bells and the chants of priests, the harsh and monotonous songs in the Wine shops, old tunes to lull sailors to sleep, the old ballads which came from the sea, which came from I donit know where,'from many centuries ago. There was a group of sailors walking arm in arm, a group of girls in their

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LITERARY 19 his life and thoroughly enjoyed doing it. And he died with his boots on, so to speak. I-Ie went on his last and greatest run into Africa, through Palestine, to Egypt and Alex- andria, The last that was heard of him was when he was seen going through Egypt. They later found out that he had died lean- ing against a tree with a handkerchief over his face. Bug Game By Alice Samara Sis, would you like to go hunting with me? questioned Dad who knew I had been waiting for an invitation of this kind since the hunting season began. Should I? Iust wait until I get ready-it won't take me long! I donned a pair of Dad's old trousers and bundling up warmly, for the weather was quite cold, I helped him get the guns-the new one for him and an old one, which he had long since discarded, for myself. Then oil we started on the trip which I have re- membered for a long time. Dad, who likes chatter and laughter, was quite disappointed with me, for I was so excited I could hardly talk. To tell the truth, I lost quite a bit of my enthusiasm when I sighted the dark woods in which we were to hunt our game. Well, anyway, gathering all my courage, I took Dad's hand and into the woods we trudged. We had walked for a long while when I heard the rustling of leaves right behind mel Later I was to learn that Dad had a good laugh at the picture I made. Here I was, a girl who had never been hunting before and had never held such a cruel weapon either before or since, with a chance for a good shot directly behind me! Well, what are you waiting for? Who, me?', And I turned right around and fired! At what? I didn't know, but I do know that the horrid-looking creature dropped with a thud. Thinking the animal too heavy for me I let Dad carry the remains. Reaching home, and having regained my good spirits, I raced into the house, shouting, Oh, mummy, you should see the darling little bunny I shot! Country Fair By Virginia Hfrldemon The enormous grounds were really a small town by themselves, overcrowded with happy boisterous town-folk and curious outside spectators. The brisk fall air was simply luscious with the hearty aroma of home- cooked foods and the spicy fragrance of late summer Howers and fall foliage. The animal tent, huge and billowing, soon attracted our attention and we spent a jolly hour watching the boastful farmers proudly displaying their prize stock. One young colt broke loose and the commotion was simply deafening until the animal was recaptured and returned to the frantic owner. The jewelry tent was my Waterloo! Dia- monds, rubies, emeralds, and pearls were as plentiful as stones. In my youthful opinion, the wealthiest Rajah in all India could not have owned so many sparkling gems. For the mere sum of fifty cents you could pur- chase a ruby as big as a marble, and a dollar would make you the possessor of a real imita- tion diamond. My heart went out to an en- graved gold brooch and a badly damaged Gypsy bracelet. My carefully-saved money was soon squandered and I marched away from the tent as fully decorated as any soldier. The hours were all too short, however, and soon it was time to leave for home. As we drove over the bumpy road, I closed my eyes and dreamily imagined myself back at the fair, laughing at the animals, wondering at the vivid displays, and enjoying the foods and candies.