Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

Page 8 text:

6 THE HUTTLESTONIAN The Royal Banquet Priscilla Place The fire is kindled, Aroma of food, Bustling, Beautiful linen. The banquet. With an abundancy of per¬ sonal coloring and modernism of style surely not to be found in Virgil’s dactylic hexameter. Miss Place presents her trans¬ lation from ’’The Aeneid” pic¬ turing the banquet given by Dido, queen of Carthage, in honor of her guest, Aeneas, the mythical founder of the Roman race. Queenly Dido in the center. Royal purple drapings. Gold, Gems, Feast on the tables. Noise and hilarity. Servants, Food, Blood-red wine. Dido kindles with love for Aeneas, Forgets the past. Longing, Desire. lopas plays on his lyre. Sings, sings, sings. Fire smoulders. Lamps gleam. Purple, Jewels, Aeneas tells of his troubles. Passion of Dido, Destined for tragedy. Sad, Unlucky, The fire goes out.

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EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief PAUL FISHER Assistant Editors SHIRLEY ANDREWS ' 37 DOROTHY CARR ' 37 Reportoiial Editors CARL BLECHINGER ' 37 MARIOLAINE GAULT ' 38 lOHN McKOAN ' 40 PRISCILLA PLACE ' 37 NANCY TERRY ' 39 NANCY CHURCH ' 41 Editor of Humor SHIRLEY KANTER ' 37 Exchange Editor LAZARUS ALEXION ' 37 Business Manager ISABEL TUELL ' 37 Faculty Adviser MARGARET SIEBERT Advertising Manager ROBERTA HOWLAND ' 37 Assistants CECELIA BARNES ' 37 MARY DICKEY ' 41 EUNICE NERBONNE ' 37 GEORGE DESHARNAIS ' 41 lEAN MARKS ' 37 Art Editor WEE LEE WONG

Page 9 text:

THE HUTTLESTONI AN 7 Black Revenge Lazarus Alexion I J IM was watching the dancers grotesquely jump and writhe about the fire. He felt rather light-headed and gay, and he raised the bottle to his lips again. Ah — !” The more he drank the better it tasted, and the better he felt. Upon a sudden impulse, he joined the savages in their contortions. They, under the influence of their emotions, were yelling and leaping almost into the fire; Jim, under the influence of his whiskey, followed suit. The wooden god, Uh-La, woodenly watched them through his wooden eyes as he sat upon his wooden throne. He was the almighty devil-god, who punished all who dared to question his godliness and all who disrespected him. He was god of gods, highest, most majestic, and most terrible. This festival was in Uh-la’s honor, and he would be feted for seven days and nights, after which time all the dancers would drop, well nigh dead from exhaustion. Jim, twisting and cavorting with the bottle in his hand, thought that somehow those wooden eyes were .mocking him. Up to that time, he had borne no malice toward Uh-la, but now some wild impulse made him dash up to the god and hit his highness such a blow on the nose with the whiskey bottle, that that most worthy organ was cracked. Immediately all activity stopped. Everyone looked as if struck by something undefinable. Jim laughed and expected them to laugh, but they did not. Only the eldest of them, Nah-ta, spoke. You have insulted Uh-la the Terrible, Uh-la the Avenger, God of Gods. We cannot touch you, for you are accursed and you shall be dealt with as He decrees.