Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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LITERARY 17 put seats in the back of the room? I glanced down the aisle. How far away the front looked. That silence-that maddening, breathless silence! Squ-e-a-k! Squ-e-a-k! Would I ever reach the front? It was only a few squeaks away now. I would make it. Bing! Bang! lXIercy! VVhat had I done now? I had brushed too near Dickls desk, and sent his books a-sailing. By the time he picked them up, I was at the front. Wl1at.was I going to say for my beginning sentence? Every one was staring at me. I wondered if Jerry, the boy with those darling eyes, had noticed that squ-e-a-k! I glanced in his direction. The dear simp was staring just like the rest. Suddenly, I remembered that I was supposed to be giving a comp. Several words dropped hesitatingly from my lips. In a daze I sput- tered out a few more. What was I saying? That wasn't what I wanted to say. I wondered if that dreadful silence would prevail when I walked back up the aisle. Filling in with a few-and-a- whya-er-als I desperately racked my brain for something to say. At last in despair I gave it up. There was that awful silence again. I felt the blood creeping up to my face and wiggling around my ear rings. Somehow I managed to squeak to my seat, and fall awkwardly into it. Oh! why did my cheeks burn so and why did I feel so cheap and embarrassed? Summoning up all n1y courage I meekly looked up to see lliiss Wallace glaring at me. '4You see, class, this is what happens when you do not prepare your lessons, I heard her coldly saying. Didn't prepare my lesson! VVhat had I been doing last night till eleven o'clock? But, then, how was she to know when she quietly put down a little five that I had on brand, new, squeaky shoes? I often wonder what the teachers learn One-half so precious as the stuff they teach.

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W 3' 16 CALRI ILEA 21 IIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIHllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllVIHHIIIHIIIlllllllllllIIHlilIIlllllllllllIIHHIIIllllllllllllllilHIIIHIHHIIIIHKIHHIIIIIIINllIIIIHIHNKIIIIXIIHHHIIIHIII so I gave the elaborately costumed elephant-chauffeiir some more money, and rushed away. I knew Mrs. 'I'remaiue well enough to know that she would laugh at me and it's not pleasant to be laughed at by lNfIrs. T remaine. Another time I nearly went to South America, with an uncle Cnot the one from Bostonj, to shoot tigers or something, I forget just what. But my uncle was suddenly smitten by appendicitis, and the trip was abandoned. I could go on for several pages enumerating touching instances when I was cheated out of a thrill. But I wonit. I shall merely say in conclusion that the greatest symptom of a thrill I ever had, occurred one evening after I had taken my sister Qcoming home from Harcum for the holidaysj to a simple nursery tea at the Ritz, and was obliged to part with four dollars and thirty cents, plus tips to three hatboys and a waiter. As I walked through the lobby I knew how Richard must have felt when he stepped out of the almost-wrecked plane-And how my friend felt when his horse nea1'ly collided with the mail train-And how my uncle felt as he opened the door of his upside-down coupe. Yes, I admit, I had had a thrill. SQUEAK Evelyn Feiring ,24 A squeak is a funny noise, especially when it comes from one's feet. My shoes were brand new, all shiny and stiff-the kind that squ-e-a-k! squ-e-a-k! when I walked. Today was oral comp. day and I was shaking. Yes, shaking in my new shoes! First, Mary gave hers, then Jack, then Hulda, and I began to think maybe 'cshev wouldn't call on me, but just then it came. Evelyn,', said lXIiss Wallace expectantly. I rose mechanically, and started toward the front. Oh! VV hy did they

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521: rr: 4-23 35- .yum :ga qw S:-1 ,. Q., .,.. giig L31 gf: ag: ,,.g ,,. ,, ,M up .12 ..- fs. --A:-1 xv. rg 1-1. ,.. ,Az an .1 a.. 0' m - ' The mountains sleep, their shadows furrowed black Save Where some jutting rock has caught the gleam Of the fast fading moon. The eerie cry of the lone Wolf rings sharp, A sudden hush that penetrates the soul, And from the silence shudde1'ing, expectant The Dawn VVind calls: 9 3 The chill Dawn Wiiicl that sweeps The cold, hard cliffs and moss grown rocks, That shudders through the tall, dead grass With whispers, as of ghosts that pass And call. O, siren song! U, lure! U Dawn VVind, calling through the dawn, Fain would I go, glad would I pass, Dissolving in the thin gray mist That rises up to greet the sun! Bly naked heart, swept clean and purged By that swift rush of crystal air, leaps, And a longing, greater than words can tell, Follows the Dawn lVind, which has passed And, murmuring like a ghost, is lost forever- Like my hopes.