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

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THE ORCHESTRA-MR. SHERMAN, DIRECTOR A Boy and His Dog By Robert Keith A boy and his dog are the best of friends: There are no troubles a dog cannot mend. They laugh and they play and they run all the day: They go through the barn and they romp in the hay, And lo! At the close of another day, That's where Mother finds them-asleep in the hay. Delinquency By John Lakin Practically every day when you pick up a newspaper, you see an account of a murder. robbery, or kidnapping. Most of these inex- cusable crimes are committed by young men between the ages of sixteen and twenty. What do you think? Why, you think of the improper bringing up the certain youth has had. The average man or woman doesn't believe for a moment that this person has been properly treated as far as education and religion are concerned. If I were to tell you that our modern businessmen were at fault, would you believe me? Certainly not! You say, with ample reason, that the busi- ness man is usually the one upon whom the assault or injury is inflicted. Discarding, for the present, the theories of famous journal- ists and juvenile judges. I shall give my viewpoint of the situation. Our many merchants will not employ any youth who is not of age. What will he do? Someone once said, Satan finds work for idle hands. Well, if young men cannot get work, what will they do? A large percent- age of them will go to some pool hall or bowling alley. A lot of these are cheap and dirty. There, they are likely to make bad acquaintances. Their parents will try to stop them, but, because they were discour- aged, do not want to be too harsh with them. The result is sometimes horrible and humili- ating. The Iirst glass of beer is usually the first step on the downward trail. Many boys take their first glass in some cheap dive. One will lead to another, and soon. under the influence of some intoxicating beverage, they will turn to crime. What for? For easy money , with which to buy more liquor. Hence, we have juvenile de- linquency. That is the cause of our huge crime pro-

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At ten minutes past ten o'clock, the Smith family was devouring a hasty repast. Emily Post would have received quite a shock, had she been there. With all his flfteen-year- old nonchalance, Joe Smith sat placldly eat- ing. his elbows in his plate. Calmly, he turn- ed his orange inside out and started gnaw- ing at the ragged pulp of the frult. Crack! Haven't I told you a hundred times not to do that? cried Mrs. Smith. knocking the orange from her son's mouth. Now. now, leave him alone. dear. He doesn't mean anv harm. put ln Mr. Smith, as he arose from the table. Say Emma, where can I flnd a clean shirt? Oh, I thlnk there's one in your closet, answered Emma, casting hopeless glances at her son. She pushed back her chair and started clearing the dishes off the table. Ten minutes later, the house was a bed- lam. Little Mary squealed like a stabbed swine as her mother tried to unravel her snarled lor-ks. The dog sat by the back door, howling in unison with Mary's shrieks. From upstairs came the most ear-shatter- ing dlscords ever issued from a human throat. It was The Road To Mandalay be- ing rendered by Mr. Smith, accompanied by the rasning of an electrlc razor. Above all of this noise could be heard an angry voice, Who hooked my collar pin? Now Joe, you know very well I gave lt to your uncle Lewis to wear to the funeral Sat- urday, explained Mrs. Smith from the bot- tom of the stairs. 0h! Crlpes! Why in the devil did1? Joe's voice faded, When the kitchen clock chimed the half- hour, seven Smiths presented a fairly neat appearance in the living room. Well, Henry, have you this week's en- velope ready? queried Mrs. Smith, as she flicked the lint off Mary's coat. By George! I haven't! answered Henry. After taking up a general collection, Mr, Smith took one more glance at the clock, and then herded his flock out the front door, Thus, with a forced smile on each face, the Smith family was off to church. The Will To Succeed By Kathleen Kinney Poor boys really do become great men. It isn't necessary to be rich to succeed and win fame. The thing that is necessary, however. is to have the will to succeed. If you think you can, half the battle is won. The common example ls Abraham Lincoln. who was born and grew up in a poor famllv. He studied by dim flre light and got a mea- ser living from his daily toil. It helps manv people who have tried and failed, to keen on when thev are told Lincoln was a failure a.t flftv. It has been said he dared not carrv a. knife when he was at the neak of failure. But the tide turned, and Lincoln became President. We all know lt isn't easv to keep on when vou fall, but keep your head up and try again. Fire Beauty By Harold Hoskln What beauty there ls ln the simple, hut majestic fire! The flickering flames curling idly over the snapping blrch logs, casting weird, grotesque reflections on the walls of my study, seem to be young and carefree. The rich blue flames leave the logs and rise ever skyward as a snake that is being charm- ed, and then gradually change to an orange and flnally, at the tip, a bright red. And then, poof! Our little flame has disappeared. and another one is growing to take its place. There is mystery in the simple flre. But, for all its simplicity, it has a. marvelous ability to catch and enthrall one In its charm and beauty. I Wonder By Leighton Bell Life is beauty, Life is laughter: That's all right, But what comes after? Some say it's Heaven, Some say it's Hell, But none of us knows: So who can tell?

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blem. One prominent man said, lt must be stopped! Yes, it must be stopped, but how? The answer is, in my estimation, give them work. After all, the retention of de- mocracy and the extermination of crime will rest on their shoulders in just a few years. Prepare them in the best way: build them up so that they will be ready for their forthcoming responsibility. In order to pre- serve the land of the free and the home of the brave. the present generation must be trained to finish on the right side of the law. The Roman Circus By Clifford Plourde Above the roar of the spectator, the air is filled with the rhythmic beat of hoofs, the clang of metal upon metal, and the snap of searching and quivering whips. Onward! Onward! There goes a torrent of gleaming and sweating bodies with flying manes, pur- sued by bouncing and tattered chariots. A corner! A horse trips and falls. Chariots, accompanied by the crackle of breaking wood and the moans and death shrieks of man and beast, meet in a pile among kicking, frenzied animals. Flying wheels and pieces of torn wood cause most of the multitude to scamper for shelter. Even a few horses, having freed themselves from harness and master, gallop towards the horizon. Nostrils, eyes, and bodies are choked, blinded, and covered by a whirlwind of dust that spares nothing. The very air is loathsome with heat and a stomach-evacuating odor of man- gled and sweaty bodies. But a few still re- main fit to go on. The racers force their horses over their fallen companions, who are crushed beneath their horses' hoofs and chariots' wheels. Then, at last, with a shout of triumph, they break through the chaos and go onward, leaving behind them blood and death. The Close of Day By Barbara Ludwig It was dusk. Another day was drawing to Sinking behind the horizon, the its close. sun cast soft shadows over the countryside. An even row of stately trees bordered the winding dusty road and stretched arms to- ward the darkening heavens. A gentle evening breeze fanned the trees and brought with it the fragrant smell of wild flowers in the nearby fields. Winding its way lazily through the countryside, a stream made its journey to the sea. A lone figure trudged wearily homewardg and, as he walked along, hc thought of his family waiting for him at iiiil THE BAND