Central High School - Aglaia Yearbook (Manchester, NH)

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ti M. H. S. Ott-u:t,E I'II Tillil' The Country Hy l.XNl . SNIITI I 'lilurt' is xonuitliing qihout tlu- country qnntl tlu- littlt' strciiin, Splinliing against the thzlt ztpluntlx to nu- with its gcntly llowiug roclis, usually H1LlI'I1tllI'5 Ll wortl ot' two, xtrtutins, ll'L't'S. inountitins. ttntl wiltl llowcrs nittliing you iniqtgiiu' you :irc in sonu- un- ihgn int- gilxuiys so liriuiully to gill. lauown ltuul. Ihnu-liing tlu' top ol' tlu' hill. XvAtlltlL'I'lI1gL ttlong gt natrroxx' ptttltxxuy, l ttilu- at th-cp hrcttth ol tlu' cool rclrcsltiitg I -.rt-in to lirt-l that l :un tunong till-, cwryf tiir gnul gaming clown into tlu' xullcy. l can thing gtrountl nu- ix iilixt-. lt isnit likv living suv on tlu' Lulu- ll nittn in his hoalt waiting ziluiu- in it trowtlvtl tilt with tu-oplc push- pgttu-ntly lor tt lish to lwiu- tit his linc. Tlu' ing you gnhout :ix il you tlitlnlt own iuttttcr. sun lwgins to st-t in tlu' lur tlistxuux' wlu'n Yo, it! just tlitlyt-rent, iuul you'rc not rcztlly l misc- nn' syn to tht' niountatins. zuul slow- gtloiu' out hurt- in tlu- open. XVliy,f il you ly ylosing tlu-ni rctilixn ilitit pt-:uc can conu' listt-n html vnough you fain lutzir tlu- lirzuu'lu's to ginyoiu- ii' only lu- uoultl ztpprcciztttr wliiit lnun gi lux' nott-s Lis ilu-y stun' in tlu- lirt-t-xc, tlu- wootllzuuls littvt' to ollcr.

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IANUARY AGLAIA A Small Box By IEAN BRAKELEY On my desk ,before me lies a small box with a raised lid. I made it at camp quite a number of years ago. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of those happy years. The cover is painted blue to represent sky and is flcckedi with fleecy clouds and one or two gulls. In the picture is a schooner which sails on a rolling summer sea. On one side is a light house, standing lonely on the barren crags. It is not at all professional looking and not large enough to be useful. There is only one duty I ask of it and that is to amuse me. All I have to do is to open my desk and there before me is a serene picture of a ship under full sail heading out to sea on a cool summer day. What more is needed to stir the imagi- nation? It suggests so many little stories with a salty tang, brief fantasies born and forgotten in a moment, startling little dreams which will never come true. When it was made, I never realized the thoughts which would come to me when I should look at it in the years to come, But several years have made a great difference to me. Now it fascinates me and intrigues me. It reminds me of that camp from which it came and the hours I spent on similar time-worn rocks 'with the cold, salty ocean foaming at my very toes and the same gulls drifting in the same skies. How many people, I wonder, get as much enjoyment out of a similar thing which gives them happyxmemories, such as my little box gives to me? 'I know that nothing which I possess gives me more pleasure when I glance at it and think of my old friends and the familiar places which I shall probably never see again. 5 Riches By VIRGINIA McLAUGHLIN Dad, wouldnjt it be wonderful to be rich? asked the little boy. Well, son, I've never been really wealthy, but I imagine it would be nice to have e- nough money to buy the things I want. Dad, how much money do you need to be rich? That's hard to say, son. It would de- pend on what you wanted in life. And the more money you have, the more you usually Want. Gee, it must be swell to have lots of money. I'm going to be rich some day, and I'll give you some of my money, too, Dad. You just wait and see! as as ar at 'gWell, sonl It's nice to see you,', the old man said in a feeble voice. How have you been doing? 'Tm fine, Dadf' declared theyoung man, just fine. You don't look so prosperous, reprov- ed his father. You know you sort of promis- ed to make us richf' 'KOh, that, Dad, I guess I'll always be poor when it comes to money matters. But as for myself Dad, I,m a rich man! Wait a minute, son, the old man said in his slow voice. You haven't any money- yet you're a rich man? Oh Dad, donlt you see? Money doesn't matter! You've just said you were glad to see me. I've got you, Mother, enough to eat, a place to sleep, and Dad, I've got other things that money could never buy. I have happiness and friendsf' But you always said your happiness depends on dollars and cents. What's changed your mind, son?,, That was before I found out about life, before I knew what it is to be really rich. A

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o l IANUARY AGLAIA Tho Conqueror By ROGERS BLOOD As he entered, a burst of applause greet- ed his appearance. All eyes were focused on the figure before them on the platform. All ears strained to catch the first words of his speech. There he' stood with his boney hands firmly clasping the rostrum. He was dressed in a Held-gray uniform and the iron cross hung loosely from his pocket adding a mili- tary air to his presence. As he leaned slightly forward to speak, the tumult of the hall be- came hushed and a vibrant silence filled the atmosphere. Before him stretched the endless sea of upturned faces. Behind him, draped from the lofty rafters, hung a great flag, resplendent in its vivid hues and shades. His first words were slow and scarcely audible yet an eerie, magnetic force centered all eyes upon him. Words began to How. The small figure became a human dy- namo. His tanned face glowed as he poured out an inexhaustable stream of words. His eyes Hashed as if the ancient fires of old were being rekindled in the recesses of his glowing orbs. An occasional outburst of emotion in- terrupted the fiery oration. Then it came like ll thunderbolt from the blue. War has been declared but the Fatherland will return vict- orious from the fray. Silence filled the room for a moment. Then a tremendous ovation shook the building. The die is cast. The dictator has spoken. Call From Tho Uffioo By IANET ROLLINS The telephone rings, all in the classroom hold their breath, each member dreading a summons to the: office. The teacher picks up the receiver, says Room 14, listens, 'and then turns slowly to glance over the entire room. 7 A breathless silence develops while she hangs up the receiver and turns to the class. Each member of the class feels his heart beat quicker and in his mind he goes back over the last few days. Black thoughts fill his mind as well as bright ones. There was the time he threw a book at Tom, had Tom told? Then again there was a time he had skipped school, had he been seen swimming? But wait, the teacher is going to speak. Her first words are, We will now turn to page lO7.,, There is a great sigh and a chorus of squeaks as the tense pupils relax and lean back in their chairs. It was just a call for the teacher. 'Pho 'Pops Aro Tops By GEORGE CLARK Maybe our students think they are art- ists. They must be, judged by the tops of the desks in our high school. Is the art modern? Well, if modern art is defined as something you have to puzzle over and never quite understand, it certainly is. The masterpieces are connected with personal affairs, clues, or hints to tests, and many a written flirtation has started on desk tops. To look at certain tops one would think they were registers, but, of course, it is only another convenience or pleasure bestow- ed upon the high school student so that he may enjoy himself when he has a few spare minutes. lf you have never thought of tops before, why don't you just take a jaunt through some of the rooms of the old building and see for yourself? Students, don't let this matter concern you, because it started before your time, and I suppose will continue long after you arc forgotten.