Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

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THE WHIRLPOOL 13 An Epitaph Here lies Karl I. Libby, always classed with the best From the time he was born until he went West. A natural musician, a flirt at his will, Neither Muses nor Cupid dared question his skill. To be sure, he had habits; but these overlook, And turn to a more advanced page in the book Of his life when he rose at his cards above Hoyle And in physies so far above immortal Boyle That the laws of Gay-Lussac, Archimedes, Hertez Were thrown in the ash-pile to make room for his. But now, without doubt, he is doing his best To give the worn harps of the angels a rest, As he sits on a cloud with his golden trombone And plays them his favorite, the waltz, “Home, Sweet Home.” MERTON SWEETSER, 720. Safety First In the river near West Falmouth is a deep hole, large, but not large enough to be called a pond. This hole is between steep banks, which are covered with alders and raspberries all matted together. Into the middle of the swimming-hole extends what is left of an old tree, the bank having caved in, carrying the tree with it. Before you get to the hole, the water is only about a foot deep; but at its brink the river bottom drops off sud- denly to water sixteen feet deep. One summer day four boys were diverting themselves at this hole. One was splashing around in the shallow water, not being able to swim. The other boys, before plunging into the hole, told him of the abruptness with which the river drops off and cautioned him not to get near the treach- erous shelf. While the boys were swimming around, splashing and ducking each other, a shout was heard. Looking toward the place from which the shout had come, they saw the boy go out of sight in the deep water. As he came up, he was seized by the oldest boy, but on account of the victim’s struggles the rescuer had to let go. By this time one of the other boys had arrived, and, seeing what had happened, dived and brought the drown- ing boy to the surface, then struggled to the old log and clung to it until the others came and earried him ashore. Arriving at the bank, they pumped the water out of his lungs until he opened his eyes and whispered to them to stop. The boys then helped him dress and got him home.

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12 THE WHIRLPOOL about a woman and child who had been forgotten by the crew in their mad rush to get away from the ship. He asked the man where they were and was informed that they were in the captain’s state-room, which was under the bridge. The keeper started for the ship, whose bow was by this time well up on the rocks, and whose stern was under water most of the time. It would be an easy matter to climb up her side, which was hung with wreckage. But would he ever come down again? There was not an even chance that the ship would last two minutes more. He realized all the dangers of boarding the wreck and still he hesitated only an instant. Only an instant, but in that instant the battle in his mind was fought to a finish—the battle on which depended the fate of the woman and child in the captain’s state-room, and in another instant he was upon the deck of the ship. The planks under his feet trembled every time a wave struck the wreck, as he made his way to the room which contained the object of his mission. He reached the door, which he easily opened, and stepped inside. The sobs which came from one of the corners told him that the woman and child were crouched there, waiting death. He wasted no words, but took in his arms the first one he touched, which happened to be the child, and made his way back to the bow, where he tied a rope around the child’s body and lowered her to the rocks. The creaking of the planks was one continuous screech when he started towards the cabin to get the woman, and it seemed that the ship must go to pieces before many more waves struck her. But by some miracle she held together until he, with the help of the sailor whom he had found on the shore, got the woman safely ashore. He himself was halfway down the side of the ship when he felt the ship begin to slide backwards. He let go of the net- work of ropes to which he was clinging, and jumped. The next thing that the light keeper was conscious of was a loud buzzing in his ears and the sound of voices which seemed to come from very far away. The buzzing gradually ceased and the voices gradually grew louder and he realized that he was in bed and that his leg was in splints and was paining him severely. Then it all came to him—the wreck, the rescue, and his jump from the ship. But where were the woman, the child, and the sailor? He opened his eyes. Yes, he was in his own house and the voices came from the other room. But someone was coming toward the door. The door opened and a woman came in. The keeper could hardly believe his eyes. The woman was his wife. MERTON SWEETSER, 720.

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I+ THE WHIRLPOOI The next day he was unable to goout. Hesaid that he didn’t think he should want a drink for a month. His parents, when told of it, forbade him to go near there again, but that did not grieve him much at the time. The other boys will never visit the hole again without thinking of the tragedy which came near happening. KENNETH Huston, 719. A Group of Translations LA FEUILLE Where, oh pcor dried-up leaf, are you going? Now blown from the tree, you protector? Why not speak and discover your secret? What becomes of a leaf that is withered? “‘Sinee the day of the thunder and lightning When a bolt tcok the life from my mother, The oak who had fed me and loved me, The oak who had given me my beauty, By the inconstant breath of the zephyr I have drifted from mountain to valley, I wander from forest’to prairie. Never complaining or fearing, A chip on an ocean of tempests, At the will of the winds I am tossing. I go with the leaves of the roses And the leaves of the laurel. I know not where I am going.” ARNAULT. Lyrics from Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme Since I have come under the spell of your eyes I pine night and day and extreme is my pain. Oh, how sternly you must with your encmies deal If you treat, pretty Iris, ycur friends with disdain! I used to think my Jennie As kind as she was sweet; I used to thinK my Jennie