Houlton High School - North Star Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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Nearer snore I saw a gleaming white pleas- ure yacht steam leisurely by. Still nearer. small sail boats were bobbing aimlessly up and down. On my left, a group of children playing happily on the white sands caught my atten- tion. Faint sounds of their laughter reached my ea1's above the noise of the breakers. On my right were great jagged rocks where, so history says, many a vessel came to grief. Gradually the volume of the waves grew greater and greater as the tide came in. At last. when the water reached the rock on which I was sitting. I returned home, but only to remember a scene on the coast. CIVILIZATION - 1938 STYLE By Charles A. Hannigan VVe are now living in a civilized age. A fervent prayer of thanksingving that we do not live in the Middle Ages! Why, today. man can kill man more easily than ever be- fore. Just thinkithe prehistoric man had to meet his enemy in fair combat. Now, thanks to science, Japan is cutting China's throat. not by fighting, but by slaughtering thous- ands of helpless Chinese men, women. and children. Never before have men been killed so quickly, easily, and painlessly as today. A shell slipped into a gun, a few levers turned, the shell sent on its course, and a hundred screaming things that were men are strewn over tl1e terrain. No, there was no science in the fighting of Caesar: but men fought, and men were killed. Now. in our haughty cities, clouds of gas, respect- ing neither the frightened women, the trembing invalids, the tottering aged, or the suckling babes, may search out their innocent prey and breathe choking death upon them. And we call ourselves civilized. I wonder! THE.PRIVATE LIFE OF A BLOCK OF WOOD By Allison Carson At first I was just a little seed, and I thought I would never get to be a big tree like the one beside me. The first year I grew to be about a foot high. The next year, I grew a couple of feet, and soon I was all of twenty feet tall. Then came the terrible day when that woodsman came and cut me down. I was cut up i11to small pieces and dried. One cold day I was put into the stove. My ashes were sold, and I was made into soap. A little girl washed with me. At length I grew so small .I went down the sink spout, into bad company, HOW TO DRIVE AN ENGLISH TEACHER CRAZY By Alfred McGowan There are numerous ways of making an English teacher crazy. The best way is to write a theme with three run-on sentences and two fragments in it. When passing it in, also forget to sign your name. and have at least two large blots on tl1e paper. XVhen in the classroom, place both feet in the seat beside you, turn around, and annoy the unlucky girl behind. Place your feet with a nonchalant air, as if to say, Whats English, anyway? Then. when the teacher tries to explain something, turn around and laugh at the other boys. In addition, you should make it a point never to know what the lesson is, or what it is about. And when the teacher hands you your D paper, just smile aloofly and stuff it in your pocket absent-mindedly - as if it really didn't matter. Then move out of town, be nice to your new teacher, and have her write to your old teacher about what wonderful work you are doing in English! FIRESIDE COMPANIONS By Lona Taggett XVhy is it that a fire-new, roaring, and vigorous - brings back so many mem- ories? A fireplace has a certain power, magnetic, perhaps. Once a person is before it, gazing into it, he finds the task of break- ing away hard. VVhen the fire is new, it brings back to young and old alike experiences, either happy or sad. You remember the gay Christ- mas party last year. You remember your vacation at the seashore. A hundred and one things present themselves to you, Many acquaintances return to you. How much you would like to see them now! The warmth of the fire envelops you. 19 l A

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THE ENGLISH CLUB High rank in English, parties' gold pins. cows filled in occasionally with their bass p1'otest. And even a squirrel chattered his appreciation of their talent. The sun rose higher still, and the small- est shadows were sent on their way. All of nature seemed to be present to welcome this glorious summer morning. And well it might, for the utter beauty of simplicity covered all. WHAT THE MILKMAN SEES By Carol Gardner The milkman sees the world from an unusual point of view. His friends are street cleaners, policemen, truck drivers, night- watchmen, and janitors. He scrambles fI'0lll his bed when the alarm rings two o'clock. The cows. of which there are many, are milked by milking machines. About the time he starts to deliver the fresh milk, day is breaking, His truck is a modern white machine with no seat, so that he can jump out more quickly. He delivers in small, dingy hall- ways, large estates, hotels, and restaurants. He encounters society people on unsteady feet, dressed in tails, top hats, and 9l'lIlIll6 wraps. Next, while riding through the park, shabbily dressed people stir beneath piles of newspapers on benches. He has a friendly chat with all his friends. VVhen his work is about finished, thous-- ands of men and women are just going to work. He returns to the milk farm about nine o'clock or earlier, where a dozen or so similar trucks are returning from differ- ent parts of the city. and goes to bed in the afternoon. SCENE ON THE COAST By Barbara Somerville Seated on a huge barnacled rock on a point of land which jutted out into the ocean, I watched with fascination the large breakers rolling in. The waves. large and white-capped, seemed to be running a fast and furious race to see which could reach shore first, As I watched these breakers, I noticed that some were larger than others. Instantly I thought of the old saying, Every ninth wave is the largest. Remem- bering this, I picked out the largest wave and began counting from that one. It seem- ed to me that the old adage was true. Glancing out to sea, l could barely dis- cern the outlines of several large islands.

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' ' ' . .cz .-.-,- i' 5 . Q- W ... SEVENTH GRADE Still Learning How' As the fire burns. your thoughts change from one thing to another. Smaller and blacker the great log has become. The flamesiblue-green, pale yellow, and red- they a1'e making their last stand. Soon they will die. The fireplace will be dark and gloomy. While the coals are yet glowing. some last thoughts flicker in your mind. Slowly, one by one, the gay flames are sub- merged in the gray ashes. At the same time your thoughts are becoming more and more indistinct. As the fire dies, death, too, comes to your happy thoughts. Never mind. You will again soon look into a blazing fireplace, For now, though happy memories must be content to remain in the depth and gloom to which they have fallen, you also must be content to wait until another time when the fire will per- form in colorful dances. At that time, a a dream most welcome will again become the master of your mind. THE STORM By Lawrence Tilley It was night. As I watched the storm from my porch, it seemed to unfold in all of its fury, pouring its anger at the earth. Its fie1'y tongue darted across the sky, lighting up the sodden countryside with its sudden brilliance. The wind-swept trees seemed to quiver in fear of the ominous rumblings, and the cutting sheets of rain slanted to the shining wet ground as if trying to break it open. But it was beautiful. The lightning, thunder, rain. and wind, all combining to produce this vent for Nature's potential energy, were beautiful. It was one of those scenes that cannot be described by mere words, but that can only leave its lasting impression on the finite mind that beholds it. THE SCOTCHMAN By Earl Tomilson I took a taxi to the store. .lf I hadn't. I'd have slipped. He charged a quarter for the l think that I've been gypped. ride- As I was walking in the store, I took one awful flip. I had to pay for a dozen eggs-- I think that l've been gypped. 20