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

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I asked him, did he have some cheeseg He said, Yes, freshly shipped. He paid twenty, I paid forty- I think that I've been gypped, As I leaned over to feel the fruit, My pants they tightened, ripped. A pair of trousers Ihad to buy- I think that I've been gypped. This poem is not as good as yours, 'Cause, when they leave my lip, The words don't make a bit of sense- I still think I've been gypped! ,AUTU MN By Paul Oliver Rusty leaves are tumbling downg Comes cold and snappy weather, Punkin's ripenin' ou the vine- Come, let's get together. Let's bundle up in hunting styleg XVith dog and gun and cartridge. Let's tramp and trail o'er hill and dale And p'r'aps we'll see a partridge. The quiet shades of twilight bid Goodnight to dusk-dimmed sung 'Neath wind-swept sky we breath a sigh- An autumn day is done. BRIDGE By Frances Donovan Contract is my favorite game, That is, when there's no cheating: But, when somebody kicks your shin, You take an awful beating. Everything is going right, A game you're trying to get. The point turns on your only queen- Egad, the kingg I'm set! Once more I try to make four spades, When my partner, who's raised me two, Puts down his hand - a count of four. G'adzooks! says I, f7l'm through! Now, friends, in closing I would say, When others set the pace, And everything goes wrong for you, Don't trump your partner's ace! MY C1ABIN By James Ward I know where there's a cabin In the wild wood, far away, Where the squirrels play and chatter And the birds sing all the day. At night, 'I hear a murmur Of that cabin's friendly call That makes me think l'm welcome XVithin its cosy wall. I can think of the joys of freedom In that little camp of mine. Oh, how I love to dwell there In the good old summer time! AFTER AL.L-PEACE By Mildred Clark A white-clad, rubber-gloved figure slipp- ed silently up heavily carpeted stairs, glided down the hall, quietly opened a door at the end of the corridor, and darted into the room. The light of a full moon flooded the room with incandescent whiteness. On a wide bed lay a beautiful girl, her shining hair flowing in bright waves over the pillow. The intruder stood still for only a mo- ment, watching the girl as she slept, peace- fully unaware of the impending danger. He drew from the folds of his gown a small can and a huge wad of cotton. The can was covered tightly, but he had had much prac- tice, so it took him only a second to open it. He saturated the cotton with the solution. The heavy scent of chloroform filled the room. He crept stealthily to the bed and carefully placed the wet cotton over the girl's nose and mouth. She stirred restless- ly. From another pocket he drew a roll of adhesive tape and began, with deft, quick movements, to wrap the tape securely over the girl's face. By that time, her breath-

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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

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L.b. THE EIGHTH GRADE Next year ing sounded harsh and uneven. The man poured more chloroform on the cotton: then he closed the can and returned it to his pocket. His hand returned to the girl's face. The moon glinted on a sharp instrument, he was holding. He paused a moment and then began to cut a neat gash in her forehead. Another line was cut across the firstg and, as he stepped back. the light of the moon fell directly on her pale face and seemed to magnify the ugly red cross on her forehead. The man chuckled in maniacal glee and glided from the room. through the hall. down the steps and disappeared f1'om view. Back in the room. the girl strangled, clutched frantically at the cotton bound over her face, tried to sit up, then fell back. senseless, on the pillow. Blood streamed from the cross cut in her forehead, her breathing became fainter and fainter, and finally the room was silent. Somewhere in the distance, a clock tolled sonorously twelve times, and the black shroud of death enveloped the room. Hours afterward, the cold, gray fingers of dawn crept through the window. Still later, when the rays of the early-morning sun had chased away the shadows, a maid tapped at the door, and, receiving no ans- wer, turned the knob. When she found the door unlocked, she walked timidly into the 22 Freshmen room. She stood petrified. staring at the rigid figure on the bed. Suddenly she screamed hoarsely and then darted from the room. That evening, glaring headlines pro- claimed. Helen Rogers. Famed Actress, Found Dead - +Fifth in a Series of Chloro- form Murders by 'The Cross' - Police Baffledj' Dr. George Brent. head surgeon large hospital, was one of those most inter- ested in these murders. He had even given great ofa a large sum of money to help in the drive launched to catch The Cross . It seemed, however. that all efforts were fu- tile. because 'l'he Cross left no clues. People came from all over the country to consult Dr. Brent. Children who had to sit in wheel chairs, their limbs in iron braces, and watch their friends running and playing. were made to walk. People brought in from accidents, their bodies mangled so badly that they were left to die, were, by the untiring patience and un- canny skill of Dr. Brent, made to look human once more. Often they could even walk: but. if they weren't this lucky. they blessed him for saving their lives. Other doctors wondered at the miracles perform- ed by him. On the seventh night after t'The Cross had murdered Helen Rogers, Dr. Brent, Ag l