Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME)

 - Class of 1928

Page 33 of 88

 

Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME) online collection, 1928 Edition, Page 33 of 88
Page 33 of 88



Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME) online collection, 1928 Edition, Page 32
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Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME) online collection, 1928 Edition, Page 34
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Page 33 text:

THE SIGNET 31 Lemons- are being given to them. They surely need them. The crowd is frantic. Time is up. Both teams have determined looks on their faces. Jump center. Dexter means business. The ball is passing around the hall with exhilenating speed. Gallant shoots. Three cheers he gets it! The opposing center gets the tawp. Columbia Falls has the ball. A pass but not a igood one. The ball is rolling towards the stage. A wild scramble that ends in a tie lball. Again the Falls have the ball. Traveling. Dexter out. Young Bucknam has the ball and passes it to Pease. Pease is way back. He aims and once more the ball makes a straight line for the basket. A marvelous shot! The crowd is in an uproar. This is Dexter's game all right! 'Two minutes :more to play. Fall-s has called time out. But it's too late now for they are trimmed. My! The Falls' are roaring! They are making a last attempt. They 'have the ball! The forward is shooting. He got it! Jump at center. They still have the ball. Such passes! The center has the ball. He is shooting. And my! He got it. The local boys are bewil- dered. Once more at center. Bucknam gets the tap. Palmer now has the fball. He passes to Gallant and Gallant pivots out of reach of his guard and makes a. short pass to Capt. Bucknam. Bucknam aims for the basket but Bang! The game is over. Dex- ter 12. Columbia Falls 8. The Dexter fans are in an uproar and the local boys are getting much applause and praise. Please stand by for station announce- ments. THE OLD He still lives over those vivid days of the past, when cannons thundered and men died bravely for glory. In 'his old arm chair, faded by the years, he sits, and on a wide verandah overlooking a broad expanse of the Potomac he gazes thoughtfully. With his beloved pipe in his mouth he softly wafts wisps of smoke which perfumes the air with its fragrance. Reminiscenses slowly per- vade the fog of his aging brain. Suddenly he seems to straighten and his thin should- ers draw ba-ck. He is remembering the charge of Pickett's men at Gettysburg, for he is a remnant of that gallant group. His eyes light up with pride and a warlike fire glows, where before there was nothing but calm and peace. Now and then, one may elicit from hin1 stories of the war, replete with action and filled with 'pages of unlimited adventure, but he is reluctant to disclose those treasur- ed memories to the banal world. One's humor and pathos are kindled when he ob- serves the soldier attempting to fire his old gun, his hands barely -able to lift it, his un- steady legs crazily holding their equlibrium. SOLDIER But 'he is young in spirit and in heart. He does not notice that he is slowly aging, he is still a youth living in bygone days. He is separated from us across the gulf of years and his inner self dwells not in the present. Remoteness has cut us off from him but he still remains a kindly spirit, a genial soul, who in moments of talkativeness ebucidates to an interested audience scraps of venerable information, here and there a glimpse of Lee and Shiloh, now and then, a view of the Yankee gen- eral at Appomatox. In the old soldier one catches glimpses of a day to come when senility will 'grasp us, perhaps not with a rough hand, but with gentleness and assuaging kindness. He is the incarnation of a passing era, and in him, is prevalent the knowledge that one can remain young in spirit though he is old in years. His very being breathes of an essence that is pure and holy and em- blazoned in an undying light-he is the old soldier. Ernest Pooler '28,

Page 32 text:

30 THE SIGNET was called was bought 'by a wealthy man from Philadelphia who wished to make it his summer home. A great .problem confronted him at first. How could he move it? Finally, some men were 'hired who were skilled in such work. They bought a huge scow, the largest in the world owned by the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad. This had been used to carry ten loaded freight cars at one time. Thus the contractors were able to transport the house successfully. T'hey promised not to injure a single thing in the grand old mansion, not even to crack the old plaster or paper. The chimneys were not to be 7 taken -down, but left standing, tied together like four sentinels. Even the original old granite door .steps were to be put in place when the house should reach its destination. The contractors waited patiently for a fair, calm day and then started with their precious freight. Slofwly they 'moved down the river and past the many islands, while interested people all along t'he way gazed at the strange sight. At length, the old house reached its new land home and now seems a part of the town. But another chapter has been added to its varied history. Horace Field 729. M. E. DYER BROADCASTING FROM STATION F. A. Y., DEXTER The whistle has just blown! The game is on! Capt. Bucknam barely got the tip- off. The ball is fast traveling around the hall. It is new in Pea.se's hands. Oh, a corking pass to young Bucknam and yes, Bucknam is going to shoot. Will he .miss it? No, the ball went clean through the net. The ball is again at center. The op- posing team has the lball. They are holding it. Bewildered and excited the red 'haired youth is trying to make a pass. The ball is now on its way 'to the guard but it did not reach its mark for Palmer with a swift and high jumrp caught the ball thus break- ing its course. Bang! The first quarter is over. The score is N. H. Fay 2. Columbia Falls O. The two minutes of rest are up. Our boys still look fresh but the Falls boys are panting and breathless. They are off! Bucknam missed the tap. Columbia Falls has the iball. Now, they mean business. They are doing some clean pass-ing that is bewildering our boys. The opposing right forward has the ball. Pease is guarding him closely. He fumbles and with a quick movement Pease has the ball. He is gain- ing much ground. The opposing team can- not stop him. He stops, he is taking aim and now the ball is flying in a straight course for the basket. Oh! What a neat one! Again at center. Bucknam has the ball. A quick pass to Gallant and Gallant is now shooting. He got it. Dexter has regain-ed their courage. Young Bucknam now has the ball. A grand opening. He shoots and two more points are advdedl Col- umbia Falls is tired, not of playing, 'but of trailing our fast quintet. Bang! The half is over. Dexter 8. Columbia Falls, 0. Folks, you should be in Dexter tonight, witnessing the cleanest, fastest game of the season. I hope I am conveying to you the excitement that is being shown. The time is up. Oh! The boys of 'both teams are looking muc'h fresher and stronger. There goes- the whistle! Buclnam gets the tap. The whistle is blowing. Foul on the opposing center for 'poking Bucknam while jumping. Bucknam is now in his position at the foul line. He shoots but misses. The ball is again at center. The red 'haired fellow -has the Iball. He is drib- bling, Pease is on his trail. The whistle. Foul on Pease for hacking. The .Flalls boy shoots and gets it. Their first p-oint of the game. They are jumping at center. The ball falls in Gallan.t's hands only to be grabbed at the -same tlime eby a 'Falls boy. Jump ball. Oh, -Columbia Fall's center is aiming, he shoots and gets it. Bang! The third quarter is over. Dexter 8. Columbia Falls, 3. Both teams are now sweating and tired.



Page 34 text:

32 THE SIGNET MARCHING Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp4Oh that incessant, monoto- nous, continuous, nerve-racking beat of marching feet! The roll of the drums, the clock-work precision of the swinging left arms, the timed rise and fall of the rifles all in unison are very interesting to watch, very thrilling perhaips, but to the soldier it is but one of many dreary tasks of army life. To the trained soldier it becomes a subconscious act, done in a state of mind not unlike a coma, and historical records have stated that t'he greater part of Na- poleon's army was trained to the point where they could march while actually sleeping. Oh it is glorious, it thrills one through and through, it awakens embers of patriot- ism in the heart, and fans them to Eames to watch a long line of soldiers on the march, column after column, rank after rank, comipany after company. They ap- pear far away over the brow of a hill, they draw nearer, the sound of drums. becomes audible and then we hear the measured tread of the heavy boots. After a while the-y pass by, they are gone, the drums are still, the feet are still, a Vacancy seems to overwhelm us, and we go about our work with more zeal, more energy and more de- termination, but-to the soldier it is always that incessant, monotonous, continuous, nerve-racking beat of marching feet-tramp tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp tramp, tramp. R. Eliot '28. THE HOUSE OF THE WINDS QA Tale for Tiny Totsj It was no wonder that little Jean could not leave that enchanted spot. It was an elfins' nook, where the sun made fairy pat- terns on the moss, and where the tinfoiled fishes played with th-eir shadows in the brook. It was no wonder that instead of going straight 'home where she knew her mother waited, Jean followed the twisty path still further. For, just as she was about to turn back, the path would make a fiirtatious green loop, and seem to say, Follow me! Then as little Jean sat down to wait for the fairies to appear, she began to be drowsy. An oiriole was singing con- tinually on one note, and the wind hummed a restful accompaniment to its song. Suddenly, a strange thing happened. Without opening her eyes jumping to her feet, Jean found hers-elf walking along a white, white road. As she stood, looking in ibewilderment about her, she was blinded by a whirl-wind of dust. Her hat sailed off, her skirts blew around her kneiesg and her curls tossed wildly about. This is queer, she thought. As Jean turned another corner in the road she .sighted the oddest house she had ever seen. It was a white building, with queer funnels and bellows 'sticking out of every window. A gl-ass cupola was perched on the roof and the red sun ma-de it look exactly like a cherry on a big white 'birthday cake. The wind blew harder and a little girl burst out of the door. She moved with a hop, a skip and a jump, her bare feet scarcely touching the ground. In truth, ,she seemed as airy as a 'piece of thistledown. Her cheeks were red, and Very, very round, and she was dressed in a wis.p of a pink frock. So yoiu've come at last! She exclaimed. I've asked you often enough! Jean was amazed. Why, I never saw you before, she cried. The little girl laughed breezily. I've been near you, lots, though. I made your papers Hy across the street yesterday. This is the house of the winds, and I am Wendy Wind. She tugged at Jean's hand, coax- ing her towards the house. Come inside and meet the family. They entered a big room, and there in a chair, puffing and panting, was a great man.

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