Hartland Academy - Ripple Yearbook (Hartland, ME)

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'l '! l l l' I table individual I have ever met. Ar- thur was often censured by many, and accused of being eccentric, much to his displeasure, probably because the accu- sations were true. Arthur was i11 his mid-twenties when I last saw him: that awkward age at which the radical ten- dencies lof the radicals and the conserva- tive tendencies first manifest them- selves. Arthur could have been classed as a radical, since he 'was obsessed with the idea that he was obligated to eradi- cate the ills of the world. This obses- sion could be attributed to his infinite intellectual development and complete l-ack of emotional maturity which ac- counts for his capricious yet philo- sophical nature. Outside the sun had reached its height and was expending a few sur- plus calories, melting a cold dust- fietched icicle which dripped incessantly and much to the annoyance of Arthur, who was sitting in his lush drawing room. His brow Was creased by in- numerous interlocking wrinkles which rendered his countenance an omniscient appearance, which concurred with his immediate mood. Suddenly he stood erect and said in a half Whisper to him- self: 'Tll do it this very afternoon, I'll question some of my friends. They'll be able to tell me what I can do to be of some use to mankind. After I talk with them maybe 1,11 be able to pay society a great tributef' Arthur had barely stepped from his door wh-en he met his old friend and mentor, Professor Beatty, whom he can- didly asked after the customary greet- ings: Professor, what woul'd you most like to do away with if you couldfv' Well,,' replied the professor with an answer equally as candid, I would free the world of those infinitely boring in- dividuals which one often meets in the rush of a day who talk for an hour and say nothing.',' This reply appeased Arthur, for he knew that he was that type of person, but Arthur was not one to be easily vanquished. He continued his poll and each time he inevitably received an answer which cut him deeply. Finally, he returned home to consider the resultfs of his poll and make a decision, but not until he had given it sufficient thought, since his next move would be most important. Yes,v said Arthur to himself, 'Tll do my best to -help my friends and the world by eradicating a great ill, a great cause of trouble. Yes, I'll pay society a great tributef, So he shot himself. Bruce Dearborn '49 LIFE'S DARKEST MOMENTS Maybe you will fail to hear my weird story to its end. There are strange people and even stranger things in this world. Who knows but l am one of those people? Again 1 say my story is a weird one. It goes back to the dark past! It was a dark, storm-threatening night late in December. I was to meet three of my class companions at the club- house. We were to meet for our weekly session of cards. The time for our meeting was set at 8:00 p. m. Being the one that lived closest to the clubhouse, I arrived early, there was nothing queer in that. It had been my habit to arrive before the others for some time. I usually came early in order to dust the old table and light the lamaps. The boys knew this and de- pended on me to keep the place in order.

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55'Q5IE5Il5LC1G5'Q-CIILJI THIRTY SECONDS OF ETERNITY 'Bill Bevans, an ex-Marine pilot, was iiying over the hazardous terrain sur- roundiing Turtle Neck Pond, a little north of Baldwin, West Virginia, in his new Bell Aronica. Bill had been up since noon and it was now close to four. The fuel gauge registered one-quarter full. This was plenty to return to his field, twelve miles away. He Hew fifteen minutes more. Now it was time to turn home- ward. Three miles to the south of the pond the rocky valley surrounding the pond broke up into the ragged peaks of the Eastern Rockies. This range of wind-eroded ledge stretched over eight miles of the distance between Baldwin and the pond. As Bill looked at his watch and saw that twenty minutes had elapsed since he turned his craft toward home, he heard a slight falter in his engine. His first thought was the gas gauge. It still read quarter full. It wasn't working. There wasnit enough gas to carry him home and he couldn't glide a hundred yards with the head wind he was fight- ing. He knew the -only thing to do was to give it full throttle and gain enough altitude to bail outf' His body reacted to his thoughts and up Went the frail little craft. Up he went, until he readhed two thousand feet, four thou- sand, and finally the five thousand level, when he leveled off and scouted around, in a few brief seconds, for the bes-t place to make a crash landing, if any could be found. A little to the left was a level spot, but there was a large boulder in the middle of it. He couldnit land there. just then the engine coughed once and died. No time now to sipot a place for landing. He must hit the silkf, Off went 'tlhe cockpit cover. Snap', went the buckle on his safety belt. Bill climbed out on the wing cautiously. The small craft was losing altitude fast. Billis rapid cacula-ting told him that it would take him just three minutes to fall to the ground, without a chute.', But he had a chute,,' so before he had a chance to think l'1.irther he threw himself into space. Down, down, he went. He was clear of the 'plane now, so he yanked at the rfip-cord. WHAT WAS WRONG? llis uchutef, didnit oipen. He was going down with much greater speed now, but he was too much concerned with his Chute, to notice anything else. .Below Bill, the earth semed to rush up at him. The only thing that broke the rough terrain was ta large pine tree. He could recall his childhood and his parentis, whom he 'hadnit seen for over five years. I-Ie saw visions of his exipelri- ences als a pilot for his country. Most vivid of all was his recollection of a similar experience over Guadalcanal. Bill fell through space for two min- utes and a half before the Chute finally caught, and held him like an anchor suddenly catches a ship. He fell for just thirty seconds before he hit the top- of the -tree, but it seemed like an eter- nity to him. It took Bill twenty minutes to recover from the impact in-to the branches, but he finally cut himself loose and hiked it back to the ainport. Today, Bill Bevans is no longer just Bill. He is Commodore Bill Bevans, be- cause he has full command of the Bald- win Airport. Richard Nichols '49 THE MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER I EVER MET Arthur Ashton is the most unforget-

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513333336 m e I finished my usual chores and looked at my watch, ei-ght-fifteen. Where were they? This was Thursday evening, wasnlt it? Of co-urse it was. Surely, the boys would come. They hadn't missed a session in ten years, but where were they? I finally decided to sit down and wait for them. I found a pack of cards and sat down to envelope myself in a single- handed poker game. I dealt the cards a few times and looked at my watch againg eight-thirty! Strange that they should be so late! Should I wait or should I investigate? It seemed that there was some invisi- ble power holding me there! A feeling came over me that I cannot explain to this day. I continued my game, and just as I finished dealing a still stranger feel- ing came over me! I turned toward the door. The door was closed. No one had come in behind me. I still had that feeling inside me. I turned back to face the table. As I turned toward the old scratched-up table that odd feeling became so strong that it almost made me blind! WAIT! VVhat was that on the table? It looked like a hand! It was turned back-up. The hand was blue, as if it had been chilled! I shuddered at the thoughts of it! I slowly gained courage enough to turn it over. There it was, on the front of the hand: spots and smooches of red! At the sight of this I nearly fainted! Never in my life, of poker rpflaying, had I ever dealt myself a royal straight flush, the ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of hearts! Richard Nichols '49 l..Li1X'Q?u-j1...- SOPHOMORE PRIZE SPEAKING