Hanover High School - Hanoverian Yearbook (Hanover, MA)

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16 THE HANOVERIAN fumbled to open it. Finally they both shouted at once, A diamond! Ma exclaimed, Where in the world did it come from, Pa ? How should I know. But, look there's somethin' written on the paper that it was wrapped in. It says, 'To the person who finds this: may good luck always be with himf Well, I'll be horn-swaggledf' Ma was so excited that she fainted dead away, but Gramp just sat down in his chair like a flabbergasted, old fool. PRISCILLA RHODES '38 O11 Wi'iti11g An Essay Your assignment for Monday is to write an informal essay. The age-old words ring coldly out over the class-room of blank faces. Well, I think to myself cheerfully, I'll have all the week-end to think up some subject to write on, and with that I dismiss the subject for Friday. On Saturday ,the thought passes vaguely through my mind that I have an essay due on Monday, but I am enjoying the game of ping-pong so much that, I have plenty of time to think about that. My brain will fire later, I say to myself and dismiss the subject for Saturday. On Sunday morning the sun shines brightly in at my open window. In fact it shines squarely into my eyes and rouses me from sleep sufliciently ,to make me nestle down comfortably under the bed covers, out of the aim of its bright beams and half-think, in that detached, drowsy way, of my English essay. It is very sat- isfying to think of the essay in this way, and I only wish I could continue to think of it in this light, but as the morning wears on and consciousness and wakeful- ness come to my brain, the essay, like a haunting shadow also creeps into my cranium. Well, I have to write it today I suppose, my mind says. I take my time about getting up and finally about eleven o'clock in the morning I am ready to start my studying. I'll leave the essay till last, I encourage myself, genius will be ready to burn then. I finish all my other studies about half an hour before dinner time. Oh, I'll eat first and then write the essay, food and a little rest will be good for my brain, I argue with myself. At half-past two I sit down again in front of my blank paper, and I start chewing my pencil anew. I chew until half past three with only the result that my pencil is much the worse for wear. I take another pencil. I can't sit here all afternoon, I decide. The result of this brilliant thought is my ask- ing the family for suggestions of topics to write on. Everyone has a suggestion but none of them seem to strike a spark in my dull gray-matter. I turn next to the help- ful guidance of books. All the yearbooks in the house are pulled from their obscure resting places and the protecting blanket of dust which covers them is blown off onto the innocent desk. From half-past three to half-past four I spend a delight- half-past four this source of amusement is exhausted, and then some of the members of my family have decided to take a ride, so I leave the numerous year books strewn over the desk and get my coat on. The fresh air will fan the flame of genius, I judiciously decide. But suddenly I change my mind, No, I believe I won't go for a ride, I think I'll stay at home and try to git that essay written so that I can enjoy myself this evening with a free mind, I ful hour looking at my sistersfand broth- ers' old class-mates and having the merits of each explained carefully to me. But by announce to my astonished family. The car goes out of the yard and I throw my- self into a chair with paper and pencil in my hand, determined to write something, anything as long as I write words and sen- tences. My sister has a few more sug- gestions which set the wheels of my brain rolling down the right track. The engine back-fires at last, I have it ! I shout tri- umphantly, I'll write an essay on the tor- ments of writing an essayf' 'And this is the result. My mind is relieved. BETTY HALL '37

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THE HANOVERIAN 15 fly. Jake paid little attention to the bird until suddenly the words recurred in his mind: I shall not live in vain. Rescuing a bird is a trivial thing, but Jake hadn't performed a kind or gentle deed as long as he could remember. This first humane act of his was an unpremedi- tated one: he stepped off the curb into the street and stooped to grasp the bird from the path of an oncoming motorist who wouldn't have seen the fluttering bit of life lying in the snow. Neither did the motorist see Jake. In a moment it had happened. The crumpled body of the old man lay in a pitiful heap in the street, in one hand was clutched the living bird. Spectators, all strangers, stood with reverence and awe as old Jake feebly whispered, I shall not live in vain ! LEONA OTT '37 ,lust An Old Black Wallet Old Mr. Goppy had trudged back and forth along Main Street every day, every week, every month for the last fifteen yearsg yet nothing exciting had ever hap- pened to him. He was an old man of seventy-two, whom everybody called Gramp. He was employed by the Sing Toy's Laundry Shoppe as a sandwich man. Th-e boards which he carried were large and read thus: Match Your Coats and Pants at Sing Toy's Laundry Shoppe 13 Main Street, Parksville, Hansburgf' The boards swung back and forth like the pendulum of a clock in perfect time to Gramp's slow, monotonous rhythm. It was a rainy, wet day and Gramp was very tired. His feet and legs were cramped, and his old shoes were so thin that he had to stop in the drug-store every two hours and put new cardboard in them. If I only could get some extra money I'd buy a million pairs of shoes! said Gramp as he approached Mike, the street- cleaner. Good-day, greeted Mike. It's pretty wet weather for you to be outdoors. Don't you know you've got to watch out for your- self ? Oh, I'm feelin' fine, said Gramp. How are the wife and . . . Say, is that a wallet? It sure looks like one to me, replied Mike picking it up from the gutter. He looked carefully through it and finding nothing, handed it to Gramp saying, You can keep your handkerchief in it anyway. Much discouraged Gramp walked to the laundry, left his signs, and wandered home toward the hot supper which Ma had prob- ably already prepared for him. After walking six blocks he turned and saw a small, old cottage with Ma standing in the doorway all ready to hurry Gramp into the warm cozy house. He said very little, and Ma knew it was best not to say anything while Gramp was in this mood. Silence reigned throughout supper and then after Gramp was all seated in his old armchair he said, Found somethin' today, but wasn't worth anythin'. Here it is. He handed the wallet to Ma. She looked at it from every angle and finally said, I guess you're right, Pa. There isn't a thing in it. But wait, what's this small lump underneath this leather flap ? She grabbed her sewing basket and cut the leather with her little gold scissors. Something fell from the wallet to the floor. What could it be? Was it money or was it a stone which had become caught under the Hap? Something dropped out, Pa, but where did it go? Gramp said, What's that under the table? You'll have to bend over 'cause my back's hurtin' me somethin' terrible to- day. Ma stooped and rose with a look of sur- prise on her face. She said, It's somethin' all done up in paper. Well, unwrap it. What are you waiting for ? shouted Gramp. Each one with nervous, shaky fingers

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THE HANOVERIAN 17 A Thought In the Night Eerie white moon Through a dark pine tree Peeps at the world, Spying on me. A big round eye CBut there's only onej Makes me guilty What have I done? Have I been bad At something today? Have I not followed The narrow way? Tell me, Watchman Sailing on high What is the reason You're here to spy? I do not know A mistake I've made Was something I told Better not said? Tell me, O Moon, The wrong I'll 'rase And then once again Dare look at your face. FRANCES BROWN '37 - His Majesty the Moon You see him in the evening When the stars are shining brightg He's a jolly round-faced fellow Who does all his work at night. He sees the wide World over From his throne up in the skyg He travels round and round it While smiling from on high. He must go on a diet, He gets so very thing But if you watch him every night You'll see him round again. To see the sights each evening Must make him very gayg His majesty I'd like to meet, Who knows, some day I may. WILLIAM DAUNT '38 A Star A single star Pierced th-e heavenly Shroud of gloom fReilection of midnight thoughtsj And Hickered Bravely trying to keep Its light aloft Lest the weary seaman Lose his way On the tossing and tumultuous sea And dash his ship Upon the shoals. Just one shimmering glow Cut a path of frosty light Through the gleaming foam. Only a miniature sun Without warmth Unbarring the unknown. MURIEL FRENCH '38 Dreams My dreams and I are happy To while the hours away, Erecting massive castles Where Weary souls might stay We are content, my dreams and I In realms where fancies reign To sit and watch your world Hy by While just our thoughts remain! MURIEL FRENCH '38 At Dawn The morning stars are waning fast. Dim gold against a greyish sky. And outlines of the trees off East Tell me the sun is drawing nigh. From far away a night owl hoots A river winds its silver thread Surrounded by a shroud of mist A quilt of oak leaves for its bed. The birds awake and with their songs Proclaim the joyous morn to all, The mist in starry radiance lifts, The sun appears a fiery ball. The feeling of the cool new day The sparkling that the dewdrops lend A river rippling hard at play While in its path the sun ascends. QMARGARET CHURCH '37