Mechanic Falls High School - Pilot Yearbook (Mechanic Falls, ME)

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M. F. H. S. PILOT 27 the boy. Here was a poor, hard-working boy, with few opportunities for schooling, yet almost ready for college by simply studying in his spare moments. Truly are spare moments the gold- dust of time l How precious they should be regarded! What account can you give for your spare moments? What can you show for them? Look and see. This boy can tell you how much can be laid up by improving them, and there are many other boys, who are in jail, and in the house of correction, who, if you should ask them when they began their sinful course, might answer, In my spare moments. In my spare mo- ments I gambled for marbles. 'fln my spare moments I began to swear and drink. It was in my spare moments that I began to steal chestnuts from the old woman's stand. It was in my spare moments that I got in with the mobs and became wicked. Then be very careful how you spend your spare moments. The tempter always hunts you out in small seasons like these: when you are not busy, he gets into your heart, if he possibly can. There he hides himself, planning all kinds of mischief. Take care of your spare moments. You may need them some day. MURIEL COFFIN, '36. RECKLESS DRIVING Mr. Jones left his office at about half past six that evening. He was in the best of spirits because his wife had promised to have his favorite dish for dinner that evening, and so consequent- ly he was in a hurry to get home. I-Ie started blindly across the street. When he was half way across the street he heard the screech of brakes and the blast of a horn, but it was too late. The next thing he knew he was being helped to his feet by a policeman. Why don't you look where you're going? asked the policeman. wasn't my fault, insisted Mr. Jones. Such drivers as that ought not allowed to drive. I'll have you It to be know I'm a taxpayer of this town and I don't see why I can't walk across the street without being knocked down by some reckless driver. I tell you I demand the driver's arrest this minute. I de- mand it, stormed Mr. Jones. Oh, well, alright, said the police- man, but most likely the judge will decide in favor of the driver. People who dash across the street without look- ing right nor left ought to get knocked down. And now, Madam, turning to the driver in the car, I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you since this man de- mands it, but I'm sure the judge will say that it is his own fault. What is your name, please? he asked. Mrs. William Jones, replied the driver, sweetly. Helenl exclaimed Mr. Jones, look- ing at the driver for the first time and recognizing his wife at the wheel of their car. 'AYes, it's I, she snapped. Of all the crazy tricks, walking right in front of a car-, she began. 'AWell, interrupted the policeman to Mr. Jones, shall I make the arrest? No, never mind, said the much- embarrassed Mr. Jones, maybe it was my fault after all, he added, meekly. Of course it was, returned his wife as they drive off with Mrs. Jones at the wheel, HILDA HARWOOD, '36.

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Z6 M. F. H. camp. Live in the open, feel the smell of the fresh young lumber. Or go into the west. To seek my fortune, like my forefathers. The bus was approaching Garrison Bridge. At the piers below Richard Holland saw a ship. His ship. He would sail aboard that boat as an able seaman. He would go to Calcutta, Singapore, Australia, South America. He would forget his sorrows in the ad- venture of the seas. Richard Holland came to his feet atop the sight-seeing bus. He was talk- ing aloud now. My ship. I will go to her. Calcutta-Bombay-. He rang the passenger bell and sprang down the steps. The conductor told him that the bus never stopped on a bridge. He rang the bell again. No use. With an effort Richard Holland plunged from the side of the bus, escap- ing the hand that clawed at him, struck the paved roadway, was hurled, by striking, towards the rail. His ankle turned, he heaved into the railing, went over the top-grabbed it with his hands and hung on. And then-Richard Holland decided. No. His hands, hold- ing the rail, relaxed, let go. He hurtled downward below--to the piers-to his ship. EMMONS TAYLOR, '39, SPARE MOMENTS A lean, awkward boy came to the door of the principal of a celebrated school one morning, and asked to see him. The servant looked at his ragged clothes, and, thinking he looked more like a beggar than anything else, told him to go around to the kitchen. The boy did as he was told, and soon ap- peared at the back door. S. PILOT I should like to see Mr. Slade, he said. You want a breakfast, more likely, said the servant girl, and I can give you that without troubling him. 'AThank you, said the boy, but I should like to see Mr. Slade if he can see me. 'AMaybe you would like some old clothes, said the servant again, looking at the boy's patched clothes. I guess he has none to spare. And, without minding the boy's answer, she went about her work. May I see Mr. Slade? the boy asked again, after Hnishing his bread and butter. Well, he is in the library, if you must see him, but he doesn't like to be disturbed, said the girl in a peevish tone. She seemed to think it foolish to ad- mit such a fellow into her master's presence. However, she wiped her hands, and told him to follow her. Upon opening the library door, she said:- Here's a boy, sir, who is very anx- ious to see you, and so I let him in. I don't know how the boy intro- duced himself, or how he opened the business, but I know that, after talking awhile, the principal put aside the book which he was reading, and took up some Greek books, and began to ques- tion the boy. This examination lasted for some time, but every question the principal asked was answered im- mediately. Upon my word, said the princi- pal, 'lyou do well! looking at the boy from head to foot over his glasses. Why, my boy, where did you learn so much? In my spare moments, answered

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28 M. F. H ONE MAN BACHELOR Hugh Sampson, a fellow of about twenty-Seven years old, had just recent- ly landed himself a wife and had taken up the cares and responsibilities of a faithful husband. We find him in his oilice down town just putting through a call to his wife, saying that it is impossible for him to come immediately home from work. A'Business is all piled up here as high as a New York State Building. l've got several letters to write and post so they will go out on the morning's mail. Yes -yes. No, don't wait supper for me: I may be quite late. What? Oh, sure! I'll call again if I have to stay later than eight o'clock. Yes, uh, huh! Good-bye, dear-yes-yes, good-bye! Hugh mopped his brow at the thoughts of all the hard work which lay before him. Might as well get busy, he thought. But twenty-seven letters to write was certainly a lot of work. Ten minutes later, we find Hugh chewing on his pencil with only a few lines accomplished. Staring up at him from a piece of office paper was: Mr. George P. White and Company 186 Baker Street New York, N. Y. Dear Sir: Enclosed you will f1nd4 Were you supposed to write out, or were numbers all right for SSO? He wished he'd asked his secretary to re- main a little longer. Three hours later he was hurrying homeward when he remembered that he had forgotten to call his wife the second time. Do wives get angry when a hard- working husband forgets to call up? Do they really rave on and on far into the S. PILOT night? Are they waiting at the front door with a rolling pin? Oh, what a blunder he had made! His steps slackened: he felt tired and just a little afraid. He had only been married three months-or was it four? Funny that he couldn't remember! Anyway, they had never fought, and now he had forgotten to call her on the telephone. She would be angry, he knew, but he wouldn't go sneaking in with a guilty look: and he wasn't going in in his stocking feet, either. He was a man, not a coward. Nevertheless, when he climbed the steps to the porch of his small cottage, he was tip-toeing very carefully in his hosiery. Trembling, he turned the door-knob. It was locked! This was terrible, he would have to climb in the window. Slowly and cautiously he opened the side window that overlooked the gar- den, crept in, closed the window, and started across the living-room floor. CRASH! His foot had hit something. Now he was in for it, might as well turn on the lights and act natural. And then, while he was groping his way across the room to find the light switch, his wife snapped them on for him. He had time enough only to catch a glimpse of her, waving a rolling-pin in the air and coming towards him. So you woud sneak in, huh, and in your stocking feet at that! We've only been married-boo-hoo-three months and you tr-treat me like this. Oh-h-h-. No sooner had she broken down than she became angry. Her tears gone, she turned on Hugh with hand upraised and that dreaded rolling-pin not two inches from his head.