Nasson College - Nugget Yearbook (Springvale, ME)

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At the right and near at.hand is Moosehead Lake bor trees, spotted with numerous islands and small boats, the nearest place of civilization in this direction, but still fifty miles distant, One's eyes could follow a course from the north, east, south, and west to enclose this mountain by a network of waterways. . The southern view offers an entirely different scene. As the eager girl turns, she sees only rocks. Directly opposite the lofty summit Stands another mountain peak. . Joining the two mountains is a Knife Edge about two feet wide with sheer drops on either side. Tiny specks, human beings, are mere dots on the sky-line. Such beautiful pictures, unsurpassed by any artist, no matter how great, are for the eyes of the fortunate climber only. dered by dark MARY RAY. T A PICTURESQUE GARDEN AT RUMFQRD POINT, MAINE Twice a day I passed the little garden, once on my way to school and again on my return. It was only a bit of ground near an old-fashioned house but it was lovingly cared for by a silver-haired tiny, old lady. Early in the morning, T would see her busy with her trowel, stoop- ing over the frail plants. Perhaps she was transplanting some, or pulling out a stray weed. - That small garden was not much to look at because there were only a few patches of green on the brown earth, with here and there a blos- som. It seemed a thankless task for it gave so little in return for such patient work. T wondered that she did not feel discouraged and leave it to its fate, but she still worked busily on until the frosts came. That was last year. This spring T still pass the beloved spot. Now it is a patch of color with pansies, narcissus, and tulips, all nodding their bright faces in the sunshine. In the center of this beautiful garden is a fountain resembling a frog. VVater sprays from its mouth and these sparkling gems keep the Howers, fresh and cool. l can hear .the noisy buzzing of the bees mingled with the hum of the humming-bird, as it gracefully darts to each flower. Yes the garden is still there, but the little old lady.works in it no 3 Q more. Does some other hobby now claim her atte?nt1on, 1S shektoo rllbto . . - - . . t enjoy it, or has she gone to a fairer garden beyond. I do nO'C HOW, U every time I pass, I look at the bright bloSSOmS and Wonder- ALBERTA ABBOTT. T611 ..-N 1. . .....k.msLr..a.l.,...4

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cwo 'zifa 4350512.55 in aims A SPOT IN THE VVQQD l have a favorite retreat from the rest of the world beside a gay little brook that runs noisily over rocks and tree roots, down a small valley to the river. At this particular place it is stopped by the root of a tower- ing pine tree in such a manner that it makes a deep, clear pool. Then it falls gracefully over a natural dam ,into another fern-bordered pool. Here it is surrounded by trees, the branches of which inter-lace, making a green ceiling which shuts out the light. This brooklet has the nature of a child. lt will run merrily along over small white pebbles, singing gayly like a happy youngster. Sudden- ly it will drop over a large stone, into a deep, quiet pool, just as a child changes from a shallow, carefree state to a more mature and serious per- son. Beneath one of the trees there is a soft, thick, carpet of green moss, on which one may lie and see a few patches of the blue sky through the leafy ceiling. Everything seems quiet and peaceful. The continual bubble and gurgle of the brook furnishes a soothing undertone for the rest of the music there. Qccasionally a bumble-bee blunders into this little glade. W7hen a gentle breeze comes along, whispering softly through the tree leaves, the ferns nod calmly. Birds Hit from twig to twig, singing while they work. The smell of the pine trees fills the air. A woodsy odor per- meates everything. There is none of the human touch anywhere to mar the beauty of that peaceful spot. It gives one a drowsy but rested sensation. There- fore, when I am weary of the hustle and bustle of the rest of the world l can retire to my sequestered nook by the rippling brook. RITA YoUNG. MAlNE'S PINNACLE PEEPS Fleecy white clouds floated lazily in the blue sky where the sun shone brightly. Soft breezes blew the girl's golden locks. The fresh-air maiden stood upon the highest pinnacle of Maine's most lofty peak-Mt. Katahdin. Before her lay the rocky plateau. At her feet the tiny body of water restedq Everywhere shadow-llecked pools joined winding rivers. At the ex- treme northern part winds the St. Lawrence River. lts branches formed lakes such as the Chesuncook and the Chamberlain. l60l

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Glidden Hall Compliments of Brown Hall