Higgins Classical Institute - Scroll Yearbook (Charleston, ME)

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20 H. C. I.SC'ROLL s-1 --- PASSING THROUGH Perhaps the most interesting scene in any large city is the hustle and bustle of a rail- road station. The business man, the service man, the traveler, the vacationist, and people from nearly every walk of life, are represented. I waited nearly four hours for my train one day and during that time I took notes on what I saw. 'I'he door opened from the right hand side of the room and on each side was a group of ten rows of seats facing the opposite group. The people walked down the aisle between them and up to the ticket booths. Immediately beside the doors were three telephone booths constantly in use. Through the door flowed a constant stream of people. I watched two very well dressed business men, distinguished by their briefcases, walk half way across the floor, pause to talk business, and then, when a vacancy appeared, step forward to buy their tickets. A cabby rushed in to make a phone callg he knew his number and didn't waste time looking it up. An old man, probably a small time business man, or maybe a doctor or a dentist also walked up to a booth, went in, and then remembering he didn't know the number he was to call, came back out, went to a window with a directory and spent at least five minutes looking up the number. Four well dressed women, perhaps averag- ing thirty years cf age, came through the door. They appeared to be sure -of them- selves as if they had traveled many times before. I imagined them as going to or re- turning from a convention of some so-rt. A sailor and two girls appeared. One I knew was his sister, the other his wife or sweetheart. The girls sto-:id together talking while he purchased his ticket. Then they all sat down for a last talk together. A train pulled in and hundreds of passen- gers thronged into the station. It did my heart good to watch the embraces of sweet- hearts, mothers and fathers as they wel- comed their servicemen home on leave. I no- ticed one extremely tall soldier, a private, as he walked through the throng flanked on one side by his father and on the other by his sister while behind him walked his mother with tears of joy streaming down her face. His father was a proud as a pea- cock, and why not! Of course there was the incoming business man always hurrying to reach the door be- fore someone else if he could and rushing outside into the maze of the city tc- lose himself in. the moving tides of people. Finally the crowd resumed its normal size and as I looked around I saw the same faces I had seen before the train came in. Of course there were new ones but the old ones still remained. A girl and her mother Walked in and I could imagine her returning to scho-ol from a vacation or a week-end home. Six sailors made a lot of noise when they came in. They probably had been on leave and were returning to their base. They rep- resented friendship and co-operation in the highest degree as they slapped each other on the back, laughed and joked as they left the social life for a, while. Suddenly over the loudspeaker came the announcers voice, Train leaving for somewhere in seven minutes cn track eight at the east end of the station . That was my train so I picked up my suitcase, the magazine I had bought to read on the train, and went out onto the plat- form and from there into the train, just another passenger, passing through. R. Cameron '45 Tl-IE VALLEY OF WINTER TROPICS During the days and years of the gold rush into the Klondike, late in the nine- teenth century, there were many stories told and invented and then retold to the civilized worldg these were prolific, erroneous as such tales are apt to- be. The tale of the Winter Tropics was one which aroused much curiosity and also dis- belief. 'I'he theme or leading topic stated that a valley, either in the Yukon or eastern Alaska, was nestled high in the mountains and that this huge valley was exactly the opposite of its surroundings. This basin was said to be exactly like the tropics in every Way! Graham Koran and Sam Little, soldiers of fortune, were so captivated by this yarn that they began to prepare an expedition by which they would explore a huge amount of territory in North America, from Hudson Bay to the coasts cf Alaska, in search of the Valley of Winter Tropics. Koran and Little even went to the extent of consulting geol- ogists to ascertain if such a place could exist. Early in the spring -of nineteen-hundred and seven these two men made their way northward and began their very arduous search in the great Northwest. Months and months wculd pass before these explorers entered a trading post. Always their answer was No in regard to the valley but never did their ardour become dampened. Late in the summer of nineteen-hundred and ten, Kc-ran and Little, wearied by fight- ing sickness and the hardships of the wil- derness, were about ready to admit how extreme a presumption their ideas had been. One day they were amazed as they passed

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H. C. I.SCROLL 19 3 5 2 5 :? earthly destiny was now just beyond sight. '1ruly, a sister to darkness, she rose each day to move about in simple tasks that had become routine. As evening drew near she always seemed to move with a little greater energy. Then as total black Hlled the very centers of the many vast rooms and cham- bers, she would pause to rest in the second parlor. Then, she ended her daily vigil with the ascent of the great front stairs. In her rc-om she slept once again, not from need, but from force of habit. Tonight marks the dramatic highlight of her steps. On this eve Old Maid Pilkes settles with Destiny and prepares for the morrow on whence her descent will start. Her steps add up now to form a great circu- lar staircase. The material is dull and color-- less-except for the top. That last one has stairs. She moved on, nevertheless, despite the fact that her f-:ct struck something to the right of the stai1's. She moved on to her own destruction for she toppled headlong down the staircase. How to describe that which is indescribableg how can words tell cf the end of a life. The end comes: there is no time between life and death. A 5-:fund comes: the pillow plumps halfway down the staircase. Now some writing can be read. The needle point on the little green cushion tells of life, how it is made up of steps. Since it is unfinished the remaining thoughts of this moralizing are, too. Old Maid Pilkes had passed -:Iver the tcp step to start a new flight of steps. Paul Lincoln Bishop '45 something unique about it. How fasclnatlngf A HERO and even incomprehensible in this last rise. In what way was it unique? Is it not what should be expected? Does it n-:t fulfill her destiny perfectly? How extraordinary singu- lar that her staircase should reach to such an ironic conclusion. Old Maid Pllkes rose from the worn cush- ion of the second parlor's horseha.r sofa and slowly passed out into the great en- trance hall of the mansion. Here she paused as was customary with her to catch her breath before climbing the grand hall stair- case. Her ascension was painfully retarded and uncertain tonight. Her frail figure, wasted away to a shadow, like the seigeless ones she lived among, gradually made the grand sweep of the steps. Since the house was plunged into total darkness she passed invisible to the upper hall. Only the muffled scraping of her sh-ces gave a touch of life to the otherwise blank scene. How elcquent- ly those shuffling footfalls spoke of her weakness! As she reached the head of the stairs there came another faint sound. As she brushed by a window seat just to the left of the top of the stairs she accidentally kn-c-cked from it a small green scfa cushion. She went on down the hall unaware of the minor accident. The cushion had been laying on a corner of the window drape. When it fell the drape swung back and hung, leaving a small open- ing. All night the moonlight slid in thrc-ugh this opening making a narrow spire of light whose p-:int ended -on the green pillow. As the sun rose the hall took on definite shape. that is, objects became visible as to shape and size. More light came in through that opening than the house had seen since last fall's cleaning. A new day had begun. The Old Maid came from her chambers at eight and was startled into closing her eyes because of the light at the head of the X Peter is a hero today. Only twc- years ago he used to go hunting and fishing with me, and new he is one of the war's greatest heroes. When the war started in 1941, Peter en- listed in the United States Army Air Corps. After receiving his basic training, he was then sent to Randolph Fleld Where he was to receive his advanced training. After three m-:nths of strenuous training he was trans- ferred to the 109th Combat Unit, and was sent tc- Europe where he was to pit his skill and learning against our foes, the Germans. It was on his first flight over occupied France that he shot down his first German plane. I can imagine how he must have felt for he would never hurt or harm an animal or pers-:n if it could possibly be helped. Bu: even to Peter there was a greater reason than the thought of killing. After being in Europe for a year and a half, Peter was sent back to the United States with thirty-two German planes to his credit-a feat that has never been accom- plished by any other American flier. When I first saw Peter, I c:'uldn't help noticing the remarkable change that had taken place in him. He seemed to be years older than his actual age and also his hands trembled as he placed them upon my shoul- ders, but his voice was just the same, al- though his lips trembled as he spc-ke to me. Never will I forget the words that he spoke. Don, I have seen a lot in the past tw: years, but I would gladly exchange all of that for just one of the good times that we used to have and enjoy. But now that the war is nearly over, there is no jcy in it for me because Peter is gone. and all the medals that have been awarded to him cannot pacify me, for my brother is dead. Ted Farrell '46

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H. C. I.SCR.OLL 21 h il- I I up a canyon and through a high-cut by what lay before them. It was the very ob- ject of their years of wandering and search- ing. It was the wondrous Valley of Winter Tropics was but an hoiu s travel down the mountainside. Truly, this valley was appropriately named, for snow covered mountains rose steeply on all sides. The valley was about thirty miles long and it averaged about fif- teen miles in width. Throughout was a pro- digious growth of ferns and jungle plants of all kinds. The temperature was very high and a great deal of precipitation fell. No- wlld animals were present except a form -or bird which had four legs and a trunk like an elephant. This animal co-uld fly very fast and it made noises very much like the mocking bird. This led to the theory that other birds and animals must have been in the Valley at some time because this bird imitated all the other birds and animals kno-wn. The explorers plotted their position with what instruments they had, very carefully, checked their course homeward, and collect-- ed some plant material to take for exhibi- tion. These hardy men were just ready to leave for the sub-zero temperatures when Koran contracted malaria and died. Sam Little then made his way back to civilization with his wondrous tale, his plant life, and the position of the Valley of Win- ter Tropics. When professors, in whom Little confided, plotted his position on a map, Little was astounded to see that his figures designated a point in South America, high in the Andes. Of course this threw Little's story off completely and he was proclaimed a liar. The explanation given by him was that the stars were exactly the same as the stars in the corresponding point in the Southern Hemisphere, and as he had to use the stars in plotting his position on a map he would be placed in So-uth America. Throughout the ensuing years a few men searched for this valley after hearing I.ittle's story, but never has anyone re-dis- c-:+vered the Valley of Winter Tropics. N. Soule '45 THE HOUSE OF SEVEN GABLES Despite the vari-:Aus disadvantages of war- time living, my parents, last spring, agreed that my knowledge of historical points of interest around Boston was. like that of all Bost:nians, quite lacking. The result of the agreement was an unusual tour of Boston and its neighboring vicinity. Of the two weeks entirely devoted to sightseeing, one cf the most interesting lo- calities that I visited was Salem, the city of Witchcraft. It was in this city that I saw one of the most, exciting, unforgettable points c-f interest: The House of Seven Gables. As I swung off the paved highway into a tiny narrow street hardly wide enough for one car to pass another, I was moved by the contrast of the neighborhood which I had just entered with the one I had left behind. At the far end of the tiny street I co-uld see an odd-shaped, weather-beaten house and realizing that this must be the famous House of Seven Gables I drove toward it. The first thing that drew my attention as the car came to a stop opposite the house was the unpainted fence through which could be seen the famous Salem Elms, and beyond, the gray-colored structure. Pro- ceeding through the gate and toward the house I viewed a spectacular piece of archi- tecture. I noticed the large gable facing the street and walked around the house to counf, the remaining six gables. Thus satisfying my curiosity the first thing. My inventory hav- ing been completed, my attention was drawn to the small, somewhat out of date door that was in the front gable. As II again walked ar:-und the house I noticed the black moss which covered the roof, the var- ious slzed chimneys, and numerous cdd shaped windows in the building. The grounds surrounding this edifice were apparently taken care of by a caretaker, be- cause the grass had been recently cut, flower gardens were neat and the hedges trimmed. I wandered amc-ng the many tiny gardens for a few minutes but soon had turned back again to the little front dc-or, wondering how I could see the inside of the house. Upon trying the door I found it locked and in the corner of the window a small card-Visitors 2-5 p.m.-It was 5:30 pm. and my chances of seeing the inside of the house were lost en- tirely. But just to see the -outside of The House of Seven Gables was an advantage, and I left it with many thoughts that I have never lost. J. Peirce '45 THIS IS MUSIC? Do your eyes fill with tears when you hear Dlmpled Dorothy's Dourful Demise howled and sung dirgelike into your atten- tive ears? Mine don't, but my blood curdles and my hair stands out horizontally. Or perhaps you laugh uproariously to the words of Jumping Joe, The Sixgun Slim cr so-me such epic tidbit Ctwenty-nine and one-half verses-the author had no further inspiratlonh of the grand old West. My emotions here are unprintably vile. As you have guessed I do not care for