Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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'k LAUREL 'lr the man . Lincoln needed a new suit to go to legislature. He decided upon blue jeans, as this was the only thing that would fit his pockethook. Eli Frendberg, the Iewish merch- ant, remarked that clothes speak. He ought to buy something stylish that would make a speech for him. Abe agreed provided Eli let him recite the speech. This is it: I would like my clothes to say in a low tone of voice: 'This is humble Abraham Lincoln about the same length and breadth that I am. He don't want to scare or astonish anybody. He don't want to look like a beggar or a mil- lionaire. just put him down for a hard work- ing man of good intention, who is badly in debt '. He got the blue jeans. I do not know whether the dialect of the Iew is authentic or not, but it is unique in sentence order and spelling. De odders hate me becas de butcher haf mein fadder bein and Nobody likes me not. The author wrote this epigram which might be applied to all high school students too. Women are like children in their love of humour. Here is a part of the authoris philosophy of life, a comparison which seems very true. Did you ever ride a horse sitting backwards -when you are going one way and looking another and you don't know what's coming? Isn't that the way we travel in this world? We cannot tell what is ahead. We see only what is behindf, The author used a little of prophecy in one instance. When Lincoln left Springfield as President-elect, he said, The years of prepara- tion are ended and those of sacrifice begunf, of pathos is out- of Ann Rutledge, in a letter. Finally, the author's use standing. After the death Samson Thaylor wrote this I saw Abe when he came out of the tavern that day. He was not the Abe we had known. He was difierent. There were new lines in his face. It was sorrowful. His steps were slower. He passed out --out of his young man- hood. When I spoke to him, he answered with that dignity now so familiar to all who knew him. From that hour he was Abraham Lincoln. And again the pathos of the assasination is unforgetable. At the end after Lincoln had been taken from the Ford Theatre, Iosiah Thaylor was at his bedside. The doctor put his ear against Lincoln's breast and said, He is gonef, Whereupon Secretary Stanton came to the side of the bed and pronounced those memorable words, Now, he belongs to the agesf' Eunice Hammond '43. Assignment: Imaginative theme with a trend of philosophy. NIGHT THOUGHTS OF A PUPPY EE, Christmas, it's still. Not a man nor mouse stirring and certainly not'a po' lil' puppy. Iust heard the clock strike three times, and it has to strike six before the Master gets up to build the fires. Let's see-three, four, five, six-three from six is four-no, three, no -oh well, pups aren't s'posed to know anything about arithmetic anyway. Look at that patch of moonlight on the fioor. Man, wouldn't I like to jump out of this chair and chase my tail and bark at iti Yeah, if I did Mistress would sail out through here like a straw hat in a gale and smack me with a rolled-up Collier's. She's got ears like a rabbit's. Well, I got a bark like a fog-horn. That's what the cross old guy across the street yelled over the phone to Master Iohn when I was out hav- ing a good time night before last. Guess I'll have to confine myself to meditation and prayer. That's it, meditation and prayer. H'm, probably Iill have to meditate for a long time tomorrow when I'm lenshed to the kitchen stove leg after Mrs. Iohn finds out about that slipper I chewed up. I 'spect I'd better pray now. Dear Master of all dogs: I thank thee for a nice master and mistress and two little boys to play with, even if they do drive me nearly nuts at times I'm thankful that I can sleep in the big chair instead of in a sissy basket with a blue Hannelette blanket prinked up with bows the way that stuck up lady pup next door does. I'm thankful I haven't got a little girl to give me baths and douse me with her Mum's cologne so Iill smell like a walking flower gar- den. I oughta be thankful that I'm getting such kind, firm, patient training that'll make me grow up into a nice dog--but I ain't. Mistress says I'll grow in wisdom as I grow in years just as men do, but I'm not so sure about that.

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'lr LAUREL ir by betting on the low-combed one also. When the high-combed cock won, he said he knew he wouldg but it wouldn't have been fair to tell before the fight. This was true of Ken- tucky. Sandburg sympathetically describes Lincoln's ability to use homely illustrations by the fol- lowing: To illustrate a shifting political policy, he said a father instructed his son to steer toward a pair of oxen in order to plow a straight fur- row, The oxen began to move, and the boy ended with a circle instead of a straight line. Once after one of the numerous setbacks suf- fered by the Union forces, Lincoln, with almost a feeling of despair asked one of the men to recite that famous passage from Macbeth which begins: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrowf, What a difference between these two characters, but did they have a kindred feeling in those moments of their lives? This book was very easy reading, I would like to recommend it especially to those who predict the downfall of our government in these trying times today. Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight by Vachel Lindsay fPoetryb This is a poem written during the World War I using Abraham Lincoln as the spirit of liberty and freedom from slavery so dear to every American. This poem is composed of eight stanzas. The stanza form is the quatrain, the rhyme a b a b and the meter iambic pentameter. The author based his writings on the facts that Lincoln loved the common people, for he was one himself, that he hated tyranny, both of the slave-holder and the war-lord, that he was of poor birth and his sympathies with the poor peasants of Europe, and that Lincoln as a man could not bear to watch either man or beast suffer. This poem was written in a dignified style as may be seen from the first line: It is por- tentous, and a thing of state . The tone, I think, is sorrowful, almost solemn. Abraham Lincoln cannot sleep because It breaks his heart that kings must murder still, A 24 That all his hours of travail here for men Seem yet in vainf' In this poem Lincoln is pictured as a sorrow- ful man, there is none of the humour found in most Lincolniana. Nevertheless there is a very good description of Lincoln: A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl Make him the quaint great figure that men love, The prairie-lawyer, master of us all. Perhaps these lines show a desire of the author for a better world, or at least a more peaceful one: A league of sober folk, the Worker's Earth, Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea. I think that this poem is, with the exception of Markham's, the greatest written about Lincoln. A Man for the Ages by Irving Bacheller fNovelD This is the story of Abraham Lincoln's young manhood as told by Iosiah Thaylor who, as a young boy, knew Lincoln when he lived in New Salem and then in Springfield. The story begins with the trip west ffrom Vermontj of Samson Thaylor, his wife Sarah, and their two children, loc and Betsy. The author tells how they happened to settle in New Salem and the many exciting things which occurred in what was then a frontier town, New Salem, Ill. From here on the story centers around Abraham Lincoln. By means of the diaries and letters of Samson Thaylor and his son, and Iosiah's memory, Mr. Bacheller has presented a very clear picture of Lincoln as a young man. Some of the out- standing facts are Lincoln's struggle to rise from a poor lawyer, clerk, postmaster and sur- veyor, of the unfortunate death of his sweet- heart, Ann Rutledge, of his association with Douglasg of his strange courtship of Mary Todd. This book contains nothing of the War between the States or the life of Mr. Lincoln while president. From these facts Mr. Bacheller has woven a very interesting novel, much more moving because it is based on fact and on one of the greatest men of our history. This book is written in informal style. The author has used the simple facts. Here is Lincoln's interpretation of Clothes speak for

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'A' LAUREL 'lr All men don't grow in wisdom as they grow in years, do they? If they do, what do they Fight wars for? Wars donit settle anything. Even a pup knows that. Iive had a war on for four days with the dog third house down over a bone he dug out of my front lawn. I-Ie got the bone but we ain't settled anything yet. Now that dog and I will be mortal enemies from this day forward, and everything started from that insignificant little bone. Isn't that sensible? I shouldnit wonder if dogs and men were more like each other than either of 'em realize. Well, maybe if I eat Red Heart Dog food, and get plenty of sleep, they'll let me join the Army when I grow up. Bet I could show those Sons of the Rising Sun a thing or two. That little yellow and white ball of Huff they call the kitten has just jumped up in my chair and I've got to bump her off, so I guess I'd better be about it. S0 long, God, look out for everybody, and take special care of Mr. Stan. I-Ie's going into the Navy next week and He's going to need your help. QHere comes that darn cat again.j Amen. V. Pinkham '43, Assignment: Original myth I . APOLLO AND ARBUTISIA SMALL beautiful nymph named Arbu- tisia lived in the heart of a large forest and seldom wandered away from her home. Hunting had made her lithe and softly tanned by the sun's bright rays that glimmered down from Apollo's chariot through the thick foliage. One day, however, Arbutisia ventured from her wooded retreat into the open. Apollo had already begun his day's work and as the nymph raised her deep blue eyes, the shade of every wooded poolls depths, she was stunned by the beauty of the Sun God. All day she watched Apollo and when Diana started her journey across the heavens, Arbutisia set out in search of Apollo. Finally she came to his palace. Her lithe form entered unbidden into the dazzling brightness of his palace, so she kept close to the ground, concealing herself under low-growing bushes and fallen leaves. For a week she watched Apollo come and go, never disclosing her presence. One day as Apollo came back from his work, Arbutisia made herself known. She was very small beside his strong body and her warm skin turned to the pinkish hue of bashfulness. But Apollo was weary at the moment so he cast Arbutisia aside. Undismayed she trailed him all night and just before morning, he wratlifully turned on her, For the rest of your life, you shall trail along as you have been doing, hiding under low bushes and leaves, he declared. Then the god's wrath melted, but unable to undo his moment of anger, he kindly added, But people will search for you and you shall retain your beauty each year when the snow melts and the trees bloom. Arbutisia smiled and then she began to shrink. Her arms and legs grew tiny and brown, leaves began to sprout, and from each hair in her head, clusters of flowers bloomed the same shade of her pink skin. So every year Arbutisia, whom we know as Arbutus, is found under the brown leaves in the month of May. I. Stewart 544. 'A myth is an account of the deeds of a god or super- natural being. It serves to explain some practice, insti- tution, or belief, relates to some supposed historical event: or accounts for some natural phenomenon. Herzberg's Myths. Assignment: Theme of reminiscence sug- gested by Bellamy Partridge,s Big Family. EVERY SUNDAY MORNING T always began around nine o'clock every Sunday morning. Getting six children ready for church was no small job. By the time one was ready, the other five had disap- peared. Long after the final bells had tolled we piled into the car. Ma, pushing back wisps of hair from her Hushed face, sternly warned us to keep still and sit still in church. Being thus late, we always had to march down the aisle during the opening hymn to I-ind a vacant pew. Ma would try to maneuver us into the pew so that she and dad could sit between the most likely trouble makers, but we usually succeeded in evading her and grimly she took her place on the end. For the first fifteen minutes our pew was comparatively quiet. Then someone always produced a pencil and paper. A look of de- feat would strike mother as she saw it, but all her head-shaking was in vain. Many notes