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

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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

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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 MOUNTAIN GUIDE While spending a few days in the mountains I met by chance what some might call a rather eccentric old retired mountain guide. He had a sweet ruddy face and hair as white as the snow on the mountain tops. Each day he would walk with us to some mountain cavern or pass. The weird and sometimes distressing tales he told made us wonder at his truthfulness. One evening after all had retired to their rooms, I walked to the window to watch light snowflakes swirl about the crystal blue that seemed to fill every space. I saw a rather odd sight and at first thought it only a figment of my imagination, but no, it was our old mountain guide. He stood like a great god, robed in white, looking over smaller mountains and valleys. It made a beautiful and almost unearthly sight. I do not know how long I stood there, but suddenly the great majestic figure was gone and there stood only that of a withered old man. Maybe the snowdrifts had been playing tricks on me, although I do not think so. Maybe the legendary tales that the old man told about the mountains were true. I shall never know, but when we went to his little cabin the next morning, there was dust an inch thick and everything was deserted. It was as if there had been no one there for many years. As many times as we have visited the mountains since, I have never seen the old man, but on a clear night when the snow falls lightly, you may see the great majestic figure turn to a withered old man. Joyce Emminger Form Il THIS IS THE STORY Come gather iround, my friends, and see How Student Government came to be: 'Twas the sophomores, who made the first stride, Asking the seniors to join their side And submit their aims to the faculty. We thought that the plans were honest and good To administer discipline where'er we could And enable our students thereby to unite For the good of the school and the teachers' delight, So now its function is understood. To the Council we also could go and suggest A worthwhile idea to become a behest. With yet many problems upon which to embark Already the council has reached a high mark! Susan Thalheimer Form VI Fifty-four