Hamilton High School - Hamiltonian Yearbook (South Hamilton, MA)

Page 7 text:

Its 2ir ttr iir la jir itsia r Ta la ar ir ar ar TaTaitr ' Wia m ar LITERARY A BETTER PRIZE Bob Rawlins had bet Dick Curtis two tickets to the Senior dance that he could win a race with his four-year-old flivver against Dick’s larger car. Both were home from college on a short vacation and both were very low on their allowances for the month, and, as they were Seniors, of course they wanted to be at the dance. They decided on a fifteen mile race, start- ing from their homes, each taking a different road. Dick took a back road because he knew there wouldn’t be much traffic. He went along the first five miles at a good rate of speed. Once he had to stop at a crossing as a train passed by, and another time he had to slow down for about fifteen cows that a small boy was leading in the middle of the road. On a quiet road he was going as fast as the car could go when he heard a motor cycle at a distance behind him. He slowed down as it came nearer and just as he was about to stop, the officer on the motorcycle whizzed by him. Later he saw him stop someone; as he passed by he thanked his lucky stars it wasn’t he. When he was about a mile from his des- tination his hind wheel stuck fast in a muddy lut which was caused by a recent storm. It was a lonely spot and no one passed by for, what seemed to him, ages. He had given up all hope of getting out himself when he saw a car in the distance. He stopped it but when he saw a girl at the wheel he mumbled a few words indistinctly in his surprise. She helped him out of his embarrassment by asking “Are you stuck ? I have a rope in back that perhaps will be of some help to you.” Just then around the curve came a noisy Ford; of course it proved to be Bob. “I’ve been waiting for the last half hour for you and thought I’d come back and meet you,” said Bob. “Oh, hello, Dorothy,” he added as she appeared from behind the car, “I didn’t know you people had met.” “We hadn’t until I just stopped her for help,” explained Dick. After they had been properly introduced Bob said, ‘T guess I get the tickets all right, it’s too bad you got stuck though.” But Dick didn’t have any regrets because all he could see or think of was Dorothy. After he had been pulled out of the mud they each got in their own cars and started off, the flivver leading. After a continued friendship with Dorothy, Dick confided to Bob that he was mighty glad he got stuck in the mud that day, and that now he was out for a prize that wasn’t a mere dance ticket. Ruth Cullity, ’27. THE AWAKENING All winter long the woods have been sleep- ing — sleeping, in spite of the cold winds and blustering snow storms raging over them. The tall fir and evergreen trees have grace- fully accepted their white cloaks and, sighing in the wind, have aited for the spring- awakening. Little smbby shrubs and ferns have been buried all the long months beneath dead leaves and snow, sleeping warmly until spring. The brook alone has remained awake, deserving of Tennyson’s lines: “Men may come, and men may go. But I go one forever.” Now it is warmer, the days are longer, and the pale sun lends some of its rays to help destroy the snow and ice. The trees shake their heads in the early March winds and rejoice as they shed their burdens. Little shrubs and ferns slowly rear their brown, dead bodies, in which new lives are appear- ing. The brooklet still continues, singing a new and louder song, while it carries ' on — on

Page 6 text:

Its la Tc itr iir ttr la la ar ar ar laar laiaar laiaiaiaararar laiaararar laar JANE’S EASTER BONNET Oh, mom! Oh, mom! The postman’s here. And he’s got something there for me. My! Its so large, and big, and square. You just come out and look and see. My Easter Bonnet sure enough! And I can tell you, it’s just grand. tVhen 1 walk into church today. They’ll think I’m queen of the land. Oh, mom! I’ve got it all unwrapped. Just look at that for style. Those feathers and real ostrich plumes. They beat Susannah’s hat a mile. Oh, mom! I’ll take good care of it. I’ll not wear it in rain or fog. It looks just like they said it did. In Sears and Roebuck’s catalog. Mom, don’t you be in such a rush, I cannot keep my eyes away Long enough to put it on. My, won’t I look some swell today? There, at last I’ve got it on. Well, mom, how does it look? M’hat makes you stare so hard at me ? Don’t it look like the model book? W ell, seeing you have lost your tongue, (You look as if you had a fright). I’ll go and take a look myself. Oh, mercy! It’s a sight. It don’t look no more like the hat. It ain’t becoming me at all. I simply hate the shape of it. See how the feathers droop and fall. The straw is cheap, the color poor, Think you I’d let Susannah see A wretched looking hat like that. And what a fright it makes of me? And you can bet Jane kept her word. It’s in the garret tucked away. She laid it in a dusty trunk. And there it’s hidden till this day. Mildred Baldwin, ’28.

Page 8 text:

6 I THE HAMILTONIAN to the river the great cakes of ice, that clash a merry accompaniment to its song: “I gurgle, gurgle as I flow To join the brimming river. For men may come, and men may go. But I go on forever.” Soon, with all her green and beautiful tresses. Spring will appear to brighten the woods with her showers, and warm the hearts of those little buds, until they burst forth in blossoms and leaves, until the little ferns lift their green plumes toward the blue sky, and bow to tbe mossy green carpet at their feet. But, despite these changes, on and on will flow the little brook singing its cheerful murmuring song: “And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river. For men may come, and men may go. But I go on forever.” Kathryn Lamson, ’28. AN EASTER EGG ROLLING Two little brown elves came dancing through the bright green forest. Suddenly one little elf stopped and said in a tiny voice, “Merry- smile, quick, look through those bushes. I saw a rabbit!” Merry-smile stopped and looked through the tall brown bushes near him. Sure enough, there was a big, fat, white rabbit with pink eyes, scampering away as fast as his little legs would let him hop. On the ground near a moss-covered rock lay a pretty pink basket trimmed with large white bows. When Merry-smile saw this he said, “Happy-go-lucky, did you see that bee- ut-if-ul basket that Mr. Bunny left near that rock ?” “Yes,” piped up Happy-go-lucky, “let’s see what’s in it.” With noiseless steps they crept through the bushes and went up to the rock. Carefully they lifted the cover of the basket. At once they both cried, “Ooooo! Look at the tiny Easter eggs.” Then an inspiration came to Merry-smile, “Let’s take it back to the queen,” he said, “and have an Easter egg-rolling contest on the forest green.” “Just the thing,” said Happy-go-lucky. So they gently lifted the basket and brought it to their queen, a tiny fairy with golden wings. She called a meeting and they all went to the forest green. Every elf took an egg from the basket and at the word “go!” began to roll it toward a massive oak tree. The one who reached the goal first with his egg won a prize. My, what fun they had that day! They had all kinds of cakes and candies to eat, and as each little elf climbed into his tiny moss bed that night he declared that it had been the happiest Easter he had ever known. Mary Corcoran, ’28. UNSTOLEN FRUIT “Eve been thinking,” said Ma Hopkins, “about our raspberries, and Eve got an idea at last.” “What is it?” asked Clara, “do you think you can save ‘em?” “Yes, I do. Em sure of it,” answered Ma, slamming the oven door. Clara drew up her chair and began to husk the corn for dinner. “Well, if you think you can save them berries so those measly Smiths — ” “Sh! Clara,” said Ma, “there’s no need to call names.” Then lowering her voice, “Where’s Ruth?” Ruth was the youngest Hopkins. “Coloring pictures in the next room,” whis- pered Clara. “She’ll hear,” said Ma nodding, “Well, as I was saying, we’ll not lose our berries this year, because Em going to poison ’em,” she continued loudly. “Why!” cried Clara, “What good will they do us then?” “Mebbe they won’t do us any good, but Ell find out where our berries went last year and the year before that.” “But the Smith’s patch is right next to ours and the boundary is only a line of stumps,” said Clara. “They know where their patch ends,” an-