Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME)

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THE SIGNET 27 THE RACE The sky grows red in the east, the sea seems allgabl-aze. The de-ep voiced 'WhiSt1BS of the tugs sound down the harbor. Every thing along fthe waterfront is in motion. It is dawn in Gloucester. This perhaps will -prove the -most event- ful day of my life. My crew -on the Sleepless and I are to race the yet un- beaten -Sa.ndy .Ho-ok boat Echo o' fthe Mom. Ten o'olo-ck sees two trim little sloo-ps gliding down- the harbor amidst the cheers of fthe crowds. There is the starter's whistle. We com-e about an-d shoot across the line on a flying start. Both boats are abreast. Ah! now I slowly creep past. I am ahead by a length. They set more -sail. Now the distance between us is lessenin-g fast but here is the bouy. I roll the wheel down and the deck is awash as sh-e heels down and pivots around. Now we are be- hind, and on the home stretch. I set my spinmaker, and now We shoot :ahead as if the Echo stood still. Oh! what ia sight to see a -sloo-p with every stitch of canvas spread bearing down. She is coming so fast that I can hear the wind screaming through the rigging in which the -men climb about like monkeys trimming sail. The Echo shoots past like an arrow with the salt spray fiying over her d-eck. Now I am about three lengths behind. -Suddenly with a crash the Echo's rig- ging goes overboard not more than a hun- dred yards from the line and as I shoot past the wreck I see -a bitter -look -of dis-may on the face of her ca-ptain. He had -put up more sail than she could can-y and thus has sacriiiced all in a vain attempt to- win. I shoot 'across the line 'ami-d the cheers of the crowds and have -beauten the world famous .Sandy Hook boat Echo -o' the Mom. Daniel Wakeneld '31, , SUCCESS AND FAILURE 'In a tiny Ithatch-ed cottage 'a b-oy of twelve sat before the one luxury the cottage held, an old and scarred harpsichord, and played. Hour after hour he worked intensely on -exercises and scales. Darkness fell and a tall, large, fair-hiaireld women left her work and crossed to the boy's si-de. You have done well, Franz, She said, smoothing back the tofwsled hair from his damp forehead. Well enough to repay you for your work in- the fields? -He inquired. Yes, rn-any, mamy rti-mes -over. Each night after I hear y-ou play it seems' that I can never work hard enough to give- my -gifted Franz the opportunities he 'should hfave. But come, -1-et 'us hear what the trees are saying to-night. To-gether, M-other and son stood in the -doorway listening to the wind -sighing in the tree tops. They are talking of rain to-night and they say that I can not do my work in the fields vtoemorrowf' said the- practical mo- ther. X Yes, rain. But it is to be a good rain, Mother. It is -going to 'bring me success, it is going to make you proud -of me. To- night the trees -say that 'sometime I will play in Berlin, in Vienna, in 'P-aris, in Lon- don, and sometime, sometime in America, in that big country across fthe sea. They say, Mother, that it will rain all of this and that you will nrever have to work -again. Play it for -me, Franz. Play for me the song the trees sing to-night. Franz improvised and played. He played to -success, to brightly li-ghvted hal-ls, to ex- quisitely dressed wom-en, and to faultlessly groomed men. At the door his mother list- ened and understood. Sometime the world would claim this gifted son, som-eftime he wou-ld leave her. Tears of joy and of sor- row filled her eyes. Across the sea, in -America, in the coun- try Franz hoped 'to visilt sometime, a young man :sat idly dingering the keys of a piano in a .large hall. T-he entertainers had gone, the people had gone, only he was left. He -smiled faintly as he thought -of the eve-ning. Pretty gocld le-ntertainmcinrt, that, he mused, Best I've seen, but just the same, I think I could do a better job at the piano. That pianfistf-not -much time to his play- ing. He struck a few chords then paused and :stared hard alt the piano. If Mother and Dad had lived, -an-d if I didn't have to work so hard fto make both ends meet I

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26 THE SIGNET haunt-a cave in fthe woods. Whistling merrily, I final-ly reached the forest and there, directly in my path, lay Sport with a cruel trap on his foot. Leaning over, I touched his still body, only to find it cold and lifeless. Alas! he was dead! Cruel, cruel world-why must it take from me my comrade and play-mate? I burst into tears and lay there weeping, until even the gold- en sun wearied of watching and sank below the purple hills. It was thus that my fa- ther found me with Sport clasped in my arms and wet tears still running down my cheeks. I was sleeping with the heavy sleep -of childhood, while -Sport was sleep- ing, never to Walken again. I well remember the day I took my bro- ther's squirt pistol to sch-ool. When I ar- rived, the little boy sitting across the faisle dared me to 'squirt it at the teacher. And I did! Int struck her squarely in the glass- es, and although it caused much amuse- ment among the children, .poor little Avis was made to st-and in the corner f-or the rest of the forenoon! ll' if all ak 511 It is with a 'sigh that I lay aside the little picture. But soon I smile fhap-pily as I visualize the long span of years, filled full of joys and happiness, which stretch out before me! Avis Titcomb '29. 9' JIMMY AND LOVE Jimmy stood with the note in his hand. Again -and again he read it- My Dearest Jimmy- Please do meet me at th Oaks this after- noon at three o'clock. I shall be waiting on fthe settee by the pond. Your adored Mary. P. S. You will recognize me as I shall wear my white sport costume. ' Jimmy folded the letter, returned it to the envelope, placed it in fhis pocket, and heaving a great sigh of pure bliss, turned and entered the house. At exactly two-fonty-ive he emerged from his home and started toward the Oakes a fifteen minutes walk from his home. Prompstly at three o'clock he 'arrived at t-he park and proceeded toward the bench by the pond where he saw a graceful figure in a white sport costume. He paused to admire her as she sat fac- ing 'the lake unaware of his presence. He liked the saucy tilt of the small white sport hat which covered a mass of curly black hair, that wonderful twist to the black and white scarf, and fthe graceful carriage of the head. Surely 'there was not and could not be a more beautiful person in the world than the one who sat before :him now, his Mary. Creeping up slowly be-hind her he placed his hands 'over her eye-s and whispered softly, Guess wh-o, adored. She stood up, turned and faced him and - Merciful Heaven! he ex-claimed. He fa-ced, not his adored Mary, but an awkward colored girl, who ejacul-ated, Lawdy, Mis- ter, I thought you was Rastusf' Frances Richard '30. GARDENS There are many kinds of gardens. There are those that are tended by expert hor- ticulturists, whose flowers are forced to grow in measured plots, an-d whose trees and hedges are cruelly clipped into all sorts of odd, fantasticsha-pes. There are those in which the blossoms are choked by weeds, for no understanding hand has cared for them. Brut the garden I shall have is nestled between two hills of velvet green. It is an enchanting garden, a cheery nook, where larkspur and phlox bend to the breeze in graceful dance. A generous rose opens her petals to a buzzing bee in search -of honey. Sun flowers and hollyhocks hold fri-endly competition to 'see which will first reach the top of the mo-ss clad wall. The garden races down to the foot of the hill, and is there, most frantically shooed back again, so that the fiorwers are forever nodding hither and thither, bewildered about which way to blow. There is a bird bath in fthe suniest corner, where vain robinls meticulously preefn their feathers, making themselves beautiful for all the flowers to see 1Such a bautiful, peaceful, cheery place-can it be real? Perhaps, some day,-now, it is only my garden of dreams. Pauline Ramsay '29.

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28 THE SIGNET would be playin-g for people too. Another pause, then he rose, shrugging his should- ers. O well, maybe the time will co-me. Maybe sometime I will e'arn enough so that I can go to New York and 'study with a real teacher. 'Plenty of. time, Pm young yet. Smilin-g cheerfully he went about his duties of closing up the hall. Twenty years passed. A small city in eastern United -States had been suddenly aroused from its usual flethargy, suddenly and unexpectedly, by the news that Eu- rope's greatest pianist would appear in the city hall on June 3rd, Women gathered for afternoon teas, men gathered at their clubs, children gathered in .groups on the playgrounds to discuss the news, that this great musician was making his second ap- pearance before the American public in their city. :Seats sold for exorbitant prices and for a mo-nth ahead of time not even standing room could be purchased for either afternoon or evening. At last the -day arrived. The hour for the afternoon .peirf-ormance came and pass- ed, and -people left the hall iawed by the 'music they had heard and envious of the fortunate people who had the evening be- fore them. The hall was empty and silent. A door opened rand -closed and a man, aged and 'broken by the yeiars, shuffled down the center -aisle. Halfway to the platform he stopped an-d looking up took off his :torn cap. The hundreds of musicians who had walked across those boards -up there de-serv- ed such homage he thought. And how man-y hundreds there had been of them! A world renowned violinist, the world's most famous harpist, great singers, and now to- day, a pianist, to whom -people in all parts of the world had flocked to hear. After a few minutes had elapsed the man 'slowly made his way to the platform and stood before the piano. I He ran his gnarled fingers 'over the keys lightly. A master hand had touched 'those keys that very afternoon, he mused, and 'Why couldn't he play like thart? Why had he never had a chance? The echoes aroused once more mingled in a juumbled sweetness :and died away. The man slumped forward on the piano benchand ran his hand through his thick hair that might have been white had it not been so grimy with coal dust. He stared into space a few minute-s then slow- ly he began to finger out a melod-y :that set the echoes dancing. Even as he started to play .a door opened and closed and a tall spare, well-dressed man with fair towsled hair stepped in, but he did not notice. The liltinfg melody soon changed to a 'loud an-d violent protest, then to ia sad sweet song. He was pouring out -all of the pent- up longings and dis-appointments of years. The light that straggled into 'that corner of the 'stage revealed to the listener at the door a man bent and old, with sallow sunk- en cheeks, and ia mouth embitte-red by dis- appointment twitching nervously as he played. Drawn' almost irrisistibly forward the newcomer approached the platform. Who was this man who played so charming- ly and, upon closer observation with so little technic? What expression he .put in- to his piece! With what lightness those knotted hands tripped over the keys! Who was this untrained genius, this almost un- co-uth man? As the man came to a close the listener drew nearer to the platform and asked in a hushed tone with fa queer little foreign ac- cent, Will you play but once more for me, Sir? Without speaking he played a fefw runs, thrills, and -chords, and soon the sweet re- frains of Home 'Sweet Home iilled the hall. It was inexpressibly sweet -and full of a de-ep meaning. The listener's eyes iilled with tears. He thought of his home, the little thatched cottage, across the sea, and of his mother in it f-or whom he had played his way to fame. It was that she might be proud of him and she was, he knew. Her struggles had not been in vain. He had worked for her as :she had for him and now, now the story the trees had told had come true-for him. But for his moth- er, -was she happy? Was his fame suiti- cient? Perhaps .she was lonely. As the last note died away the great mu-sician re- solved to go home, to go back to his mother. to make her happiness complete by being with her. His dreams for the future were broke-n into V by the man's voice' saying brokenly, How I wish I could pl-ay, play as- that man played this afternoon. But