Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

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10 THE PENNELL WHIRLPOOL A BIOGRAPHY. Ernest Ambrose Coffin was born in a log cabin on Dutton Hall, July 4, 1898. From the time of his birth until he reached the age of seven, he is said to have possessed a pair of cast iron lungs, much to the pleasure of the neighbors. When he was seven years old, he went to a school taught by Elizabeth Douglass and was a shining light for the other pupils. He was always their inspiration for mischief. At the age of ten he came to the grammar school of Gray under the tuition of Florence Brown. He was forever arguing with her on the theory of Evolution and always took the affirmative side. He possessed a clear, musical voice and often sang at T.adies’ Bazaars for the benefit of friendless cats. He attended Pen- nell at the age of thirteen. THis first two vears were unevent- ful, but he kept the faculty more or less worried. In his senior vear he edited his first book, “The Menace of Study Hours.” This was a remarkable success and was read by all the pupils, but the authorities did not get the hint, as intended. When he was thirty he became a tonsorial artist in Dry Mills. He did very well at first. but later his eyesight com- menced to fail, and his vietims looked as though their head had been thru a stone crusher. Later he was interested in radium, and the town bought a hen-house in which to conduct his experiments. He tried to extract radium from alligators’ ears, but was unsuccessful, so he had to give it up. In 1930 he and Arthur Sawyer became veterinarians, and, thru a chiropractor’s advice, they were quite skilful in the treat- ment of coughs, colds, sore throat and hoarseness of animals. They continued in this business till the majority of the domes- tic animals died from pneumonia. When Ernest Coffin died. he was greatly beloved by all the dumb animals. His name will long be remembered by the citizens of Gray. as his picture and autograph appear on some of the leading hair tonic bottles. Bovs are a very curious class. Under any circumstances Right is the thing they seldom do, Never caring in the least So long as they don’t come to grief. C. A. S., 723.

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“« %, % THE PENNELL WHIRLPOOL 9 began to grow nervous and cross. Faster and faster she worked, and did not notice that her work was not so smooth and even as it had been before. At last the tray cloth was fin- ished, and she gave it into her mother’s charge to be pressed and made ready to send away. “Part of this embroidery isn’t as nice as vou usually do, Gertrude,” her mother said, pointing to two or three flowers on which the work was rough and uneven. “And, Gertrude. see this,’ and she showed a place where the silk thread had not drawn in tightly enough, so that it had formed a loop. “Tm sorry, Mamma,” Gertrude said, impatiently, “but I had to hurry so to finish it. If I had had another hour, it would have been all right.” “There doesn’t seem to be any way of fixing it.” Mrs. Ben- nett said, regretfully, and Grandma added, “It’s almost as bad as finding a dropped stitch when vou've finished your knitting, It makes a bad place, the best you can do. Dropped stitches make so much trouble wherever vou find them.” “Why, you never find them anywhere except in knitting, crocheting or weaving, do you?” Gertrude asked wonderingly,. Grandma smiled. “You'll find them all through your life, my dear,” she said. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, I think this embroidery which you finished up so hastily that you did not do it well, shows a dropped stitch in your own life.” “Why, how, Grandma?” “When vou knew for vourself that you ought to sit right down and go to work at it, and then went over to Mabel'’s and spent an hour, vou dropped a stitch of duty. And you know, dear, that it has made a bad place, for the hurry that was necessary afterward made you nervous and cross, therefore making it impossible to do the work as well as you would have liked.” “T guess that’s true, Grandia,” Gertrude answered slowly. “A dropped stitch is more serious than I thought. Ill try not to drop any more.” “Yes,” her Grandma answered, ‘and, Gertrude, always re- member that the girl who is so anxious to be obliging that she is always promising to do more than she can possibly accom- plish, makes a big mistake. It is no kindness to promise to do a favor and then fail. Make no more promises than you can keep, but keep all the promises you make.” D. M. R.

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% THE PENNELL WHIRLPOOL It A TRIP TO HOLLISTON. Holliston is a pretty little village bordered by “Clear Lake. I have some old friends there who have an estate called “Sun- set Farm.”” They said it was a beautiful place in summer. My friends, a gentleman and his wife, for a number of sum- mers had urged me to make them a visit. Summer began early that year. It was intolerably hot in Lexington. I received a letter, as usual, from Mrs. Rogers, urging my sister and me to come this year, for there was to be a boat race on the lake the first of August. We decided to go. I have a possession which T value very much, a little mare named Nell. She can cover the ground. We started with Nell at half past two on the fifteenth of July. Five miles were covered and we were in the country. How good it seemed! M en were having along the route. We stopped at a spring beside the road and had a delicious drink. What a contrast between that and the water in Lexington! At ten minutes of five we reached Holliston. “Sunset Farm” borders “Take Clear,” as I have said. We traveled along the road on the shore of the lake to our friends. It was delight- fully cool, Nell carried us up the hill to the farm, where we received a hearty welcome. Bruce, a handsome collie, soon made our acquaintance. We had an excellent supper and then talked and talked until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. The next day new joys awaited us. We roamed all over the farm. From the highest point there was a wonderful view of the lake. When the sun had set, the sky was beautiful, and so was its reflection in the water. I made the acquaint- ance of a black boy named Sam. We became great friends. He warned me not to go near the fence of one of the neighbors in my wanderings through the pasture, as he had a big billy goat whose disposition was not of the best. I forgot his warn- ing. and, one day, as I was walking near a fence, I saw a big goat eyeing me. I don’t know what possessed me, ihe l walled to the fence and pulled his beard gently and stroked his head. He didn’t like it. The fence was weak. The goat butted it over and came after me at full speed. I started to run, but as Iam built on the plan that is not made for running, he overtook me, knocked me over, and started rolling me down the hill. He seemed to think it great sport. To my horror, as we neared the bottom, I saw a large hornet’s nest in our path, I held tight to Billy’s whiskers. This “riled” him. In one way this was lucky for me, for he butted me with greater ferocity and thus changed the path, so we avoided the nest. We came to a pile of tin cans. Now, goats like tin cans, for which Iam very thankful. Billy commenced eating the cans