Hanover High School - Hanoverian Yearbook (Hanover, MA)

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THE HANOVERIAN 29 I was placed in the care of the camp physician who healed my wound in a few' weeks. But I was under guard all the time until I was placed in the jail. They need no guards here for the walls are so high and thick that there is not a chance for escape. I understand from the talk that only, three thousand of our men escaped. The Greeks lost only one hundred and nity four. I guess none of us will ever want to put foot on this ground again. lYishing you luck and sucess and with hope for my speedy return, I am Yours ever, HORATIO Lloyd Bryant, '33 'KSTUNT NIGHTV Faces paling 'neath their paint, One or two about to faint, Teachers rushing here and there, Faces drawn and tense with care. XYherels my rouge, and ',where's my powder ?l' Voices getting loud and louder. The clock was ticking on to eight-l That was when w'e'd meet our fate. Hurry! hurry, get in line! Juniors please clon't tear your signs. Seniors, don't forget your cue Soplfmores, that's your warning too. Then upon the stage we stood, But not in silent, pensive mood! It seemed our hair rose from our head. How we all this night did dread! ..- X X 1, Z, Hilda Barclay, '31 YOUTH XV hen one is young, And life has just begung It's the little things that matter, Pebhlesg and the rains that splatter. And at one's command- Beholcl! In ordinary sand, Little golden things That imagination brings. In revel and in play, One sees all through the day, Silver and gold And riches untold. There's no time for tears, In the happy, early years just the sunny side of life, Laughter and pleasant strife. Corrinne Flavell, '31 LOVE COMES ALONG I met a Little Lady sweet Who was Singing in the Rainy She was a Lonely Tronbadour From far off sunny Spain. Can't We Be Friends, Miss Wonderful, I ask most Melancholy, My Fate Is In Your Hands, dear one. When l'ni With You I'm jolly. Beside An Open Fireplace We'll plan, Oh, Honey Mine, A wee Love Nest for you and me- Or a dream castle on the Rhine. Oh, Woaldn't It Be Wonderful. Just wake me If I'm Dreaming- I'll be Trne Blue dear Love, she said.- Do I rightly catch your meaning? Happy Days Are Here Again I'm glad I Caine To Yon- We're both supremely Satisfied We'll go on Smiling Through.

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V 28 THE HANOVERIAN squashf' whereupon the cierk repled, most courteously: The other side please. The first thought that entered my dull brain was that this poor man w'as deaf. So I obligingly went around, to the other side of him and repeated my wish in a loud voice. The clerk roared with laughter and patronizing- ly told me that I had been fooled. All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my face as I meekly walked over to the other side of the store and bought my squash. Eunice Miller, ,SO FROM' IFRESHMAN TO SENIOR ilVe struggle in our Freshman year. Our homework suffers sore- W'e say f'W'hy work because we're hereg XVe still have three years more. Our Sophomore year sees us again Vtfith selfsame thoughts in mindg NVe bluff our way with might and main, But find ourselves behind. Our Junior year we try to work, But find it not so fine. 'IV e then declare we ne'er will shirk- Our next year we will shine. But when our Senior year is done, Our spirit great is dim, Uve find that Ays we have not won- And end as we begin! Lawrence XV. Chaffee, '30 AIR-MINDED Somewhere, somehow a small boy heard someone talking of parachutes and aviatorsg of airplanes and fame, and decided, as small boys do, to some day become one of the flock of fam- ous birdmen. But, when a boy is six or Seven, Hactionw is spelled with a capital AH and heads his vocabulary. Some day he would fly g some day he would be famous. Ev'entually he might do it --why not now? So he pondered! tAs small boys do.D An airplane was out of the question, an impossibility. However, he might make a parachute. Burlap bags are numerousg string is plentiful and when a boy is air-mind- ed there is nothing in the world easier to make than a parachute. Upon the top of a shed roof, a young aviator grasped more firmly a crudely made parachute, and sustained by the courage that lies deep imbedded in the heart of all airmen, drew a deep breath, and jumped. A little boy is sadly disillusioned as to the existence of the genius of inven- tion in boys of seven. Edith Congdon, '32 AN IMAGINARY LETTER VVRITTEN EOR ANCIENT HISTORY Barrack No. 26, Lookoff Hill Athens, Greece, Second Moon. Dear Marcus: As you know I have been taken cap- tive here in Athens. My ill fortune began during the last battle, that of lPlataea. I was fighting the best I could when I was struck across a ten- don in my left leg, felling me, of course. I did not attempt to get up and iight again because of the pain that shot through my leg. Almost in- stantly, I was picked up by an Athen- ian soldier and carried to their camp nearby.

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