Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 9 text:

i I the ceiling. Below this cupboard was a long log of wood into which axes. knives, and other useful implements were placed. To the right of the table was a big wooden tub, overturned. I was amused for I immediately thought of the poem 'The Old Wooden Tub'. Around it were smaller wooden tubs, which I decided were used for milking. Meanwhile my host had filled a large jug of hot soup and placed in front of me a huge cheese and an immense loaf of bread. We immediately 'fell to'. As I was eating I noticed rafters stretched from one side of the room to the other. Garlic and dried red peppers hung in strings from these rafters and chestnuts in net bags. About a half hour later the tinkle of sleigh bells was heard, and a neighbor, whom the peasant had in some way notified of my presence, came to take me home. A few minutes later I drove away with some regret, for in the peace of that little Swiss kitchen, I had been strangely happy. If I Had A Million Oh, for a million! If I had a million, Would I wander far from my own native land In a plane, ship or car like the gypsying brand? Would I dress in rich garments Eat 'fabulous stuffs' Wear pure ermine mittens with red satin cuffs? Aye, I would that-and more, I'd have non-running hose And a maid to continually powder my nose. I'd run down to Egypt and startle the dead, lFor an 'Empress Eugenie' I'd float on my headj Ch, a bright yellow skirt and a purple 'vestee' And green shoes with points that curl up to the knee Would make me supreme as I 'fected a 'huff' In my pure ermine mittens with red satin cuffs. And thus I'd be borne on a brocaded pillion fThough I'll grant-with concessionl If I had a million. Alice Ames SCVBII

Page 8 text:

A Swiss Chalet by Virginia Paulsen ose As our chalet was a good five miles wn the mountain, and it was getting rather rk, my friend and I bade goodfbye to our mpanions and started for home. All went l I . , . . 1 o PAY of strenuous skiing was drawing to a O . . . a 3 ell until I hit ice I lost complete control of y skis and the next minute I was lying flat ith half of one ski gone, no batons, and a rribly aching wrist. Far below I saw my iiend skiing absolutely unaware of my mis- althy yells could reach her. 71' 1 Fortunately about fifty feet away I saw a chalet. In ten minutes I was knocking at a small wooden door. It was opened by an old farmer who, seeing my broken ski and the remains of frightened tears, beckoned me to take off my skis and enter. I did so and found myself in a quaint picturesque kitchen. I sat on a small three legged stool in front of a big stone fire- place in which a merry fire was burning. Cver the fire was a big copper pot hanging from a chain. Something that smelt good was cooking in it. Beside me was a small stack of firewood, evidently brought in for the night's use. Above the chimney, I saw a shelf upon which different colored plates of rare beauty rested. Scattered among them were various steins. My interest in these things had turned my attention to the opposite side of the room. An adorable cuckoo clock probably made by the farmer himself faced me. The old man was in one corner of the room to the side of me churning butter. The churner was of unpolished light wood not unlike other bowls, dippers, spoons, etc., which were on the table next to the Swiss. The friendly peasant seeing that I had 'thawed out' walked across the room and motioned for me to follow. I'Ie lit two small lanterns and set one on the shelf among plates and the other in a darling casement window. These lit up a part of the room which I had noticed before. There was a long wooden table almost the length of the room itself. Around this were many three legged stools. To the left was a cupboard extending halfway down from six

Page 10 text:

An Alaskan Fairy Tale by Barbara Grushlaw Cumi Wangi squatted in front of the flickering fire. The reflections of its dancing flames sent mysterious, weaving paths along the wrinkles in her parchment-like face. She stretched out one skinny paw and selecting a gleaming red ember from the fire, lit her long white pipe, She smoked slowly, taking long satisfied pulls and pausing to meditat- ively watch the blue grey smoke spiral and curl, like a monstrous snake, out thru the top of the tent, until, at last, the writhing column seemed a veritable misty stairway to the heavens themselves. At the old woman's mocassined feet, her four little brown grand-children sat wait- ing patiently. They knew well that until this ceremony of smoking had been finished, she would not weave the tale they nightly a- waited. I-Xt last, the grandmother reverently laid the slim pipe away in a beaded pouch. Long, long ago, came her low dron- ing voice. fThe ears of the expectant child- ren were cupped to catch her magic mono- tone like little flowers lifting eager heads to drink the dew.l 'AThe Great Father, vexcd with the wicked world, sent a swift messen- ger to Mogui, medicine man of our tribe. fFor you must know that Mogui, who was as old as the grey hills, was as wise as the horny knotted oaks, the chieftains of the council fires of all the plant folk.l The mes- senger came to Mogui as he sat in his tent and said to him, 'Mogui, thou, who art well versed in the secrets and mysteries of our white earth, listen unto me. l bring to you a tale which no other mortal knowsf eight