Higgins Classical Institute - Scroll Yearbook (Charleston, ME)

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V. . ,. .. .....,,., .,, vw. H. C.I.SCROLL 23 -- n if- 5 attended by Doctor Y, a few doors down the Doctor X. hall. I have never enjoyed my visits to the den- tist, but I never c-:-uld evade making them. This morning I was unusually nervous. When the bus reached my destination, I dismounted and walked a few steps to the dcor leading to the upstairs part of the blc-ck. I o-pened the door and ascended the stairs, literally quaking in my boots. I walked down the hall to the omce d-3-or and, following the instructions on the door, I walked in. A My appointment was for an early hour, and the ofllce nurse had not yet arrived. The doctor came in and asked my name and if I had an appointment. He seemed quite astonished when I said, Yes, but he didn't stop to argue. I followed him to the chair. He started to work immediately. I twisted and squirmed in agony, but when he was through drilling, all he said was, Ah, ha! That didn't hurt much, did it? I glared in helpless anger. He now seemed to want to converse with me. Who did this other work? he began. Oh, that Doctor Y down the hall! I re- turned scornfully. Who? Doctor Y, did you say? Why I'm Doctor Y! You'? Doctor Y? I was horrified. In what sinister plot had I become involved? I glanced at him. He was Wrathful. My mind began running in circles. All I wanted to do was to get out. V I began edging out of the chair, buf, he made no move to detain me. I still could hardly believe he was Doctor Y! I almost questioned his sanity. Now I question mine. You are? I repeated. You're Doctor Y? I thought you were Doctor X , I added unnecessarily. No he grunted indignantly. I kept moving towards the d-cor but he had another question to ask me. Weren't you satisfied with my work? What did I do? I jumped in headfirst. Well-er-well, you see, all my friends were going to Doctor X and-well-, I couldn't finish it. I finally reached the door, but he had one more parting sh-ct-a mere matter -of a, comparatively large bill for ser- vices just rendered. Well, at least I was in the hall, blut I still had an appointment With Doctor X, and how was I going to explain those three gap- ing holes in my teeth? I thought I would try to be more tactful this time, so I locked carefully at the name plate on the door be- fore entering the right odice. Once in, I summoned all the courage I could muster and incoherently poured my pitiful story into the sympathetic ears of He laughed. He kept on laughing. He told his nurse. She laughed. There they were-- two laugh-stricken humans! What was I dc- ing? I was laughing and crying,-crying be- cause I had so brutally insulted poor Doc- tor Y,--laughing because it was funny. I am st-ill laughing. In fact whenever I think of it-I laugh. J. Baker '46 TONY December had come in all its beauty to Vermont and great banks of snow lined paths and roads. Banks so high that one could not see over them. In front of the large colonial type home the freshly piled snow matched the gleaming white pillars of the front porch. Inside everything was bright and Warm. Children were popping corn, making candy and singing. Older folks sat around the warm room talking. Lying before the fire drowzily blinking his wise, brown eyes was Tony, a medium sized brown and white fox- terrier. At the time of our story he was nine years old. Tony was passionately attached to the family and he actively resented any intru- sion on its privacy or on his own. Today he felt good, he was warm, well-fed, and his family was under his observation. He was contented. Finally he got up and made the rounds of the house to be sure that everything was as it should be. Tony was the sole watchman and protector of the grounds and he took his duties very seriously. He paused before the front window. All he could see was the end -of the path where it opened into the highway. Thoughtfully he gazed at the empty road. Suddenly he started. Was that? Yes, it Was! Simon, his mortal enemy, the neighbors' yellow tomcat! Tony began to bark and whine in such a. Way that finally he was let out the front door. Like a streak he was on his way down the path. Then to the horrified ears -of the peaceful young group came a loud screeching of brakes, a pitiful cry of pain and then un- broken silence. Instantly they regained their senses and moved with one accord out the front door and down the path. There in the road was a huge moving-van and a sober- faced man holding a. brown and white dog covered with blood. Tony had not had a chance. When he rushed down the path, he could see no truck and no truck could see him. He had been killed instantly. The driver offered to pay but no amount or money could bring Tony back. When a dog is killed, there is a large sense of loss. as there is in the case of death of a person in the family itself. M. Baker '45

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22 H. C. I.SC'ROLL 1- : f:- ,Q . if-5 these Western sagas of song that tell a story iand what a story? of some everyday CI sh-:Auld hope notl occurrence. They have a most unpleasant effect on my gl:-cd nature: I'become criminally inclined. You may feel that way too- -like murdering the tall tale teller of such trashy junk. For the benefit of the unenlightened, let mc quote a bit of a Cowboy song ffor that is the appelation they have given for want were finer of something better, if such a thing possible! I may miss a few of the points in my laborious description but even ardent adherents of that type of music will admit that I know plenty about the subject. We find our combination vocalist and in- trumentalist, two terms being used locsely, and watch him prepare for this rendition. He looks harmless enough, dressed like a house-fire in the attic with the gr:-und floor splitting from lack of support. He sings without music, as you'll soon learn. Attached to a strap over his shoulder is his musical instrument which he calls a gueetar but which we know is a, guitar by its shape. His face is contorted by expectancy of what is to ccmeg his mouth is -o-pen to a most re- vealing extentg his palate quivers with the first notes that will come our way soon. The number with which we shall be honored is a most solemn, sad, almost re- ligious ballad c-f western life: When Grand- pa hit Grandma with the Shovel, She Snuffed Out Like a Candle. Please don't cry yetg you haven't even heard it. With a 'I'wang, Twangf' a Twang-a-twang, and four twangy twangs we are precipitated into the solo. This lack of introduction is sup- posed to hide the fact that the recitalist Knows few variations of his Twangs. Whether for not we suffer or gain by the brief overture is debatable. But less talk and more description. In a tremendously sad voice our Lone Cedar Troubadour commences the piece. He has some tune, in fact, a definite -one which ex- tends to the end of the line. This same tune is repeated almost unchanged for the re- mainder of the wo-rk. However, with each successive verse we feel more unsettled. Right about the thirteenth verse people about us who have been a perfect audience, rapt in attentive awe at the hidden beauty of the opus, begun to sob hysterically. The raving of the homicidal maniac of a grand- father over the result of his brutal beating of his wife has moved them deeply. They weep convulsively. We listen as the horren- dcus tale unfolds. Oh, grampa how could you do it? The Children, so sweet, they asked. How could you belt poor grammy dead? We loved her to the last. Oh, young'uns kind, I do not know Why your grammy I did hit- With my best new shovelg It made a dent in it. On the twenty-second stanza we realize that the tale has been sung out. Now from that tearful dramatic song we expect tc- be released. But no-comes now the crowning event of the occasion. A series of tremulous whacks at the already sorely tried guitar forewarns us of a coloratura-like glorious finale. We get more than we expect. Our Lone Spruce Minstrel opens up ibut def- initelyil and belches forth a jumble of Yo- de-lay-eo-o's and various other unintelli- gible mad cries that oover the length and breadth of the known musical scale. We also hear some other sounds that must be mentioned as they form an integral part of the opus. These are indescribable wails of excruciating pain. The distorted face and figure of the victim Cat least, he is one? are proof of this. Just look. Then in a cataclys- mic c-:-mbination of voice, twangs, overtones and undertcnes we are precipitated from this sample work of art by a grand slam- bang twang on the gueetar to end all such twangs . And high time, too, you have to admit! My main reason for disliking this particu- lar type of music is obvious. The lyrics are absurd, poorly written, and of no conse- quence. Their mournful qualities are no-t apparent to me but some find these ex- tremely sad. I recall a song in particular, entitled, Old Shep, which ,I first heard when I was seven. I was bewildered. When I saw my friends weeping I couldn't connect the trashy lyrics with their plight. However, not wishing to appear different, I wept toc-. the next time I heard Old Shep. I haven't heard this since but I have been brutally exposed to -other similar works. I weep no more. A wave of disgust sweeps over me at the poor quality of the music and the atro- cious grammar embodied in the lyrics. How intelligent people listen is beyond me. I don't think really intelligent people can bear to listen. My reasons all add up to nothing, which is just exactly what these sings avail and merit. Exposed as we are to this type of music via. the radio especially, we may be thankful for the button marked OfI ! P. L. Bishop '45 l-ii..-li TRUE CONFESSION With great trepidation, I climbed on the bus that eventful morning. I was bound for the dentist's, who shall for obvious reasons be called Doctor X. I had been to Doctor X o-nly once before having previously been

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24 H. c. I. SCROLL HARVEST MOON It is a clear crisp night in September and as we go from the camp down to the lake at ten -o'clock we are dazzled by the glistening water and the beautiful harvest moon. Not until this moment do we realize what a glorious evening this full moon has made. We launch the boat and go sailing amidst all nature's glories. I sit in the bow, which rises several feet above the water when the boat is in mc-tion, and from this miniature tower I have a su- preme view. The moon is directly over head and -occasionally a whispy cloud floats over its face, momentarily masking the scene. As we round the tip of a point, on which the clear white sand and the somber black growth o-f evergreens appear in startling contrast, a sparkling seven miles of water is before us. In the distance the gray forms of mountains stand cloaked in land fog. As we turn, the wake of the boat can be seen spreading in all directions and it sends the moonlight dancing in fantastic patterns on what has been a serene and placid sur- face. An hour has passed and the moon has dipped very little. Now and then a light twinkles from a distant shore, but otherwise we are the only persons who dare venture into a realm so peaceful and so appealing to the eye. N. Soule '45 FUN! FOR THE UPPERCLASSMEN! The old house appeared to be black against the moonlight. Its shutters were tightly nailed in the windows. Through a crack in the doc-r, the flickering light of a candle could be seen. A boy walked up to the front door and sl-:lwly opened it. After peering cautiously into the room and seeing only a lighted candle on the table, he entered. This boy, Henry Smith, had received a note in the morning mail telling him to be at, the c-ld Sanders place at nine o'c1ock that night. Curiosity winning out, Henry now was at the Sanders place five minutes ahead of time. In the five minutes before the time set for his strange mission, Henry decided to ex- plore the h-suse. He started up the creaking the top he stopped to listen. stairs. At Voices were singing in the distance. Henry's down into his boots, but he heart sank bravely hauled it back up again and yelled, Who's singing? Immediately silence settled over the house. When he repeated his cry, silence was still his answer, so Henry continued his tour of exploration. The darkness was intense except for the tiny glow of I-Ienry's pencil flash light. Then he saw two glowing spots in the further corner, but only for a second. Then they were gone. Now Henry was really frightened, so when he heard the front door open he made a terrific rush for a hiding place. Try as he wzuld to be quiet, chairs seemed t-sf topple over, doors would bangg but Hnally he felt securely hidden. Peeking through the partly open closet door he saw white figures troop- ing down the stairs. Until then he had never believed in ghosts. Henry stealthily tiptoed to the head of the stairs and watched five gh:-sts seat themselves. Again he heard the front door open and in walked two of his classmates. The first ghost spoke, Glad to have you with us, bc-ys. Here, John, you sit here and Paul, you sit here beside him. Expressions of surprise and terror on their faces, the bs-ys obeyed. Unfortunately for Henry, he became too interested in what was happening to John and Paul to look out for himself. Before he knew what was happening, two ghosts, one on each side of him, were leading him down-stairs to join the group below. Again the leader spake, Why were you hiding, Henry? Are you afraid of us? Henry stammered above the noise his knocking knees were making. N-n-o. 'Then make yourself at home, replied the ghost. A Henry stumbled over to Where John and Paul were sitting. He was 'glad to have someone he knew with him. The arrival -of a. few more of Henry's classmates made him wonder what was hap- pening. By the pfuzzled expression on I-Ienry's face, a ghost guessed what he was thinking and answered, You will soon find out. Quietly the ghost leader stood up. Now we will show these boys our home. First, to the attic. Come, boys. I'll take the candle. With that, ghosts and boys trooped up two flights of stairs. Gallant boys, trying not to show their fear. When the attic door was opened, little black figures darted through the air and at the group. There were bats in this attic, dennitelyg nevertheless, the boys were ordered in. The ghost leader spoke. 'fEach one of you must catch a bat before We can continue to gc through the house. Bring them back to us. Not really knowing how to catch bats. the bays went into the attic and did their best, just to humor the ghosts. After a per- iod of time, they finished their mission and went on their way. Going from room to room, looking about them always, these boys opened door after