Hamden Hall Country Day School - Perennial Pine Yearbook (New Haven, CT)

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ERROR While I was mounting the steps leading to track four of Union Station, I heard the roar of an incoming train. I reasoned that it was the six o'clock train from New York, and since I was to meet an important client, I began to trot up the steps. It was just my bad luck to be late, and our firm was expecting me to get the contracts from this man. Again I doubled my speed. The steps just seemed to Hy beneath me. Suddenly the crowd from the newly arrived train began to surge down the steps like multitudes of bees swarming after honey. Here I was, caught in this avalanche of humanity. What could I do? l just had to meet that representative or lose valuable business. First I stopped runningg then I stopped walking. I thought it would be safer for me to let this mass of huinans pass. Two, three, then four minutes passed, and still they came. Finally in desperation I began to advance. Boldly as a belligerent bulldozer, I pushed on. The halfway mark was reachedg but there still was a long way to go. As I renewed my advance, I was pushed, shoved, and kickedg but my progress was only slightly impeded. Then at the three-quarter mark I grasped the railing and almost had to pull myself up the stairs. l never knew there were so many people on one train. I began to wonder if the railroad officials were sending all of their trains to the one track. Finally I reached the top. There was no sight of my client. I began to run. I must have resembled a football player dashing for those sacred six points as I raced along the platform, side-stepping one couple, almost stiff-arming another, and nearly knocking down several more. Still there was no sign of my client. In desperation and sheer exhaus- tion I stopped and looked about. At that moment my eyes fell upon the station clock. It read five o'clock. I looked at my watchg it read six o'clock. I was puzzled over the matter, and then I remembered that I had neglected to set my watch on the standard winter time. Reluctantly I sat down and decided to wait that one hour for the train rather than go through the harrowing experience I had just endured. John Dowman Form VI HEAVENLY LIGHT Starlight fills the night with radiance. It scatters memories afar for loves and fades into morn. Sunlight floods the air with freshness. It kisses dry the morning dew-drops and smiles on the world. Susan Thalheimet Form VI Fifty-Iwo

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THE CIRCUS Step right up, folks, to the greatest show on earth. In this tent we have the super colossal woman of the air, Madame Zubrichi, guaranteed to take your breath away or your money refunded Only one thin dime to witness her daring skill! The voice of the circus barker rang through the crowdg and crowd there was, for this was none other than the famous Ringtail Brothers Circus, a circus no one could afford to miss. The barker took up the chant again. We left the crowd and entered the main office. Hi, called the sixteen-year-old manager of this stupendous production. He glanced at his watch. You'd better hurry, he said. Your act is next. Coming out of the tent, we bumped into Mr. Haskins, the adult director of this third annual playground circus. He wished us luck. We young performers entered the big top. A hush spread over the audience. Ladies and gentlemen, announced the ringmaster. We are lucky enough to have here four daring girls on the trapeze. They will do an aerial ballet. Here they are! There was our cue. The band struck up a tune and we marched in. Our big day at last! After many weeks of practice under the patient direction of Mr Haskins we were at last to make our debut in the renowned circus. Our ballet was a short run of graceful feats on the trapeze. It took no skill to perform on them, but to us it seemed the hardest thing in the world to do. The audience liked 'it, though, for as we walked out, the applause rose. Most of us stayed andwatched the rest of the acts. The lion act was wonderful. . After the Grand Finale, we changed the costumes. This, our circus, had been a success. By the way, if you are ever in Madison, Wisconsin, stop by Tenney Park and take a look at those lions. Of course, you will find them in the form of boys playing baseball. Maybe Madame,Zubrichi will be slamming out a home run for them, but it still has the circus atmosphere. jill Sundgaard , Form II THE CYCLE The street is throbbing with the warmth and ardor of life. Spring's messenger 7 the Wind, is leading the trees, gaily garbed in inverted green crinolines, in a boister- ous, turbulent dance. Sunlight is playing hopscotch on the roof-tops and over the lilacs and the dogwood. And in the sky plump, well-fed clouds sail smugly by with their supercilious glances at a world., ofjsuch -unrestrained passions and youth. The street has sunk into the depth of the lavender gloom. Beneath the steady patter of the soft rain, the hushed whispers of the gossiping trees can be heard. The wet pavements gleam darkly while here and there they are flooded in a pool of golden light from a window or an open door. Eagerly the rich, brown loam drinks of the summer rain, and the tiny blades of grass revel in their cool bath. The world is drenched with a drowsy calm and tranquility. The street is gaudily arrayed in the various hues of Autumn. The sky is a more brilliant blue, the trees more resplendent in vivid reds and golds. And yet in sharp contrast there are the browns of dead leaves, the black of bare limbs, the harsh rasp of rustling leaves. The world is the feeble pretense of a dying man. The street sleeps in its bed of snow under a silver coverlet of moonlight. Wearily the dark trees droop their slender necks with their heavy necklaces of crushed diamonds. It is a Winter world of unbroken silver and black-the silver of snow and stars and moon, the black of night and cold and weariness. Joy Sundgaard Form VI Fifty-one

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THE CONNECTICUT RIVER Forming neat the Canadian border and flowing southward through Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut is the historic Connecticut River. Driving through New England one may cross the river in many towns and see the many types of land through which it passes. Taking an imaginary trip along the river, which forms at the Connecticut Lake in Northern New Hampshire, one would notice that it flows through dense wooded sections at its source. Progressing toward the border of Vermont, one could see why the logsmen of pioneer days found the river so useful for transporting the huge trunks to the mills. It is also interesting to note that the dividing line between Vermont and New Hampshire comes right in the center of the stream, and the state sign markers are placed in the middle of the bridges. Going farther south into Vermont, one would notice that piles of slate line the banks and that many of the houses and barns are roofed with this material. At Wilder and Bellow's Falls, Vermont, huge power dams have been erected, providing excellent electrical facilities. The stream enters Massachusetts at Northfield, and from here on the bed widens out, making the fertile fields which attracted the early settlers. At Holyoke, Massa- chusetts, huge mountains of trap rock rise from the river banks. From here on one would see perfectly formed terraces on each side of the river. These were left when the huge glacier released the torrents of water that rushed seaward, and these are noted as being the best formed in the country. In the colonial period towns and cities were settled along the Connecticut River Valley with unusual rapidity, so one would see many flourishing communities near the banks of the river. From Hartford, Connecticut, the stream is navigable. At Middletown the river again narrows until it reaches its mouth near Saybrook. Thus would end a journey down the Connecticut River. Bill Adams Form I II THE HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET Many people admire the house across the street, but not many of them know what a dangerous place it is. You want to know what makes it dangerous? Well for one thing the gardener is very careless. He rakes the leaves into a nice pile in the back yard, where no one can see them. When he burns them he waits until there are only a few sparks left. Little does he know that it takes only a light breeze to have it become a roaring fire again. Oh, yes, Mrs. Smith was just too busy to take time to put the ash-trays back. Mr. Smith is so absorbed in the evening paper that he puts the ashes on the arm of the chair presuming that the ash-tray is there. The chair starts burning and the Smiths have lost a valuable chair. junior takes all his old story-books and toys and piles them in a heap in the attic. Mrs. Smith comes up looking for something. Someone has neglected to put a bulb in the socket so she must carry a candle. Tripping over juniors toys, she drops the candle and the whole attic is ablaze. The Smiths may have a pretty home and grounds, but personally I would rather live in my own secure home. Elizabeth MacKay Form I Fifty-three