Potter Academy - Wreath Yearbook (Sebago Lake, ME)

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September In Techicolor lt was a good day for walking to the football game. The alr was crlsp and the wind playful as I directed my steps toward the hlghway. Overhead, the powder-puff clouds were motionless agalnst their bright- blue background. Although most of its warmth was gone, the sun had lost none or lts summer brlghtness. A bush of brown burrs swayed busily ln a vain attempt to fasten some of lts boarders to my coat. I crossed the railroad heard and stopped a moment to pick a tlck trefoll that had survived an early frost. Some of its sisters were still alive and bordered a path down to the mill pond. Following them, l came to the edge of the water and stopped. A men across the way was pulling a rowboat from the water. Preparations for the wlnter had already begun. The wind was kicking up the cold grey water at my feet untll lt looked llke a mlnlature sea ln a storm. lt was easy to picture thls same spot ln three months-covered with snow, lt would be rlnlng wlth the laughter of skaters warming their bands over a cheery flre. l turned away, feeling a bit sad that fall was here. Along the sidewalk the tender green grass had turned to hay, and the polson lvy leaves stood golden and green against the old tree stumps. On the other slde ef the road, tall gaunt plne trees on the 'island' formed a sober background for maples and elms In the gayest of dresses. The dlvlng board that the boys had bullt ln their shadow was deserted, and one of the supportlng plles had been knocked down. l pulled my collar closer around my neck and continued on my way. lt was hard to think of swimming ln that cold water without shlverlng. A rough stone wall bordered the llmlts of an estate. The ivy that. spllled over the top was as red as the coat l wore. Further on, goldenrod dripped bits of sunshine into a burnt-brown field. Suddenly remembering a place where wild grapes grew, l headed there. Sure enough, there they hung, full and purple, from vlnes which covered a young tree. I plcked a couple of bunches and thought of the grape jelly my mother, would soon be making for the winter. Then, cutting through a mane of golden-centered asters, I reached the hlghway agaln. A new house had been built by the slde of the road. New grass was peeplng through the soll, and marlgolds next to the freshly constructed cement wall had been bltten by the frost. A little grey squlrrel scampered from the woods, paused on the lawn, and with a swlsh of hls busy tall, was gone again. Behind the house,.brown corn stalks made a dry, rustling sound. Loomlng up in the distance, however, was the whlte of the steel goal posts on the athletic field, and my pace qulckened. The gridiron was freshly lined with whlte, and the baseball fleld seemed shabby and neglected ln contrast. The stands were alive with students ln bright plalds and corduroys, and the band played a tune ln stirring march tempo. l waved to my friends and prepared to joln them ln watchlng the contest on the athletic field, but somehow or other, l could not prevent my thoughts from straying to the blue esters and yellow goldenrods and the man who was gettlng ready for winter. Joseph Greenwood '52 Mount Paiiima Donald Cheyngne pagced restlessly to and fro around the room of the '37

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suddenly she sohered and said, Why, Moses, you dldn't even have a gun. You never carry one, and you did all that just for me.' And with that she wound her arms around Bashful Moses's neck and kissed him and Moses lmrnedlately falnted. Jean Crawford '52 selfishness This ls a story of selfishness. It concerns an lndlan named Chief Soggy Tea-lag of the Wethead Tribe. The Chief ls very old, and the tribe ls very poor. He trled to make them happy but the ralns dldn't come and many of the tribe died of thlrst. The Chlef lived in a moth- eaten old tepee. He had just enough clothes to cover him. Then a telegram arrlved for hlm. U It was a notice from Catchom 6 Stlckem, Attorneys at Law, to come and collect 81,000,000,000.15, lnherltance tax deducted. The trlbe was overjoyed at the thought of this money. lut the Chief kept it all for hlmsel . Every blt of ltl He was buying everything ln sight and the Indians were dropping like flies. He bought a thirty- flve cylinder Super Percussion X-100 motor car with radlo, television, radar, telegraph and a telephone to call up the drlver. With the money he also built a forty room mansion with tele- vision ln every room. In the llvlng room there was a fish pond with barracudas and South American puranas in lt to keep the Indians from drinking lt. Down under the house was his vault. There was a pond there infested with Crocodiles and water moccaslns. The Chief went down there every day to count his money to see that lt was all there. Soon he lost all of his friends. The trlbe despised him. They cursed the ground that he walked on. He was so stlngy that he charged his servants to work there. The servants were just about starved to death. They wore ragged clothes and no shoes. After he found out about income tax, he softened up a little. He began to give away money. The trlhe soon loved him and were can very prosperous. He paid his servanrs to work there, he got rid of the reptiles ln the ponds, and he won all of his frlends back. Soon all of the Vlethead Tribe was prosperous and they lived happily ever after. Lawrence Nason '54 36

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tlay Flllplno hut. He was awaiting one of the natlve boys, who was golng wlth hlm on a camping trlp to Mount Pajllma. He was also busy lamentlng over his hard fate. He should never have allowed his father to talk him into going wlth hlm to the Phlllpplnes, and he should not have agreed to this redlculous camplng trlp. That was hls father's ldea, of course. l-le was a tall, hard faced boy, handsome ln a coarse way. He was the sort of boy you would expect to see prowllng around the streets with a gang at night, while his father was too busy at home to know, or care where hls son was. He had no brothers, or sisters and his mother was dead. As his father was a wealthy man, the boy had practically everything he wanted. This certainly did not help his naturally selflsh dlsposltlon. Suddenly he was hailed from his troublesome thoughts by a lusty shout from outslde. That would be Jon, he knew. Swlnglng his pack over his shoulder, he went slowly outside to meet the newcomer. He was not fond of the Flllplno, nor any of his race. He felt that he, as an Amerlcan, should treat them as lnferlors, which he readily dld. He found this boy's broken Engllsh and jovial manner almost unbearably disgusting. l-l'lo , grinned the Flllplno cheerfully. Donald did not reply. 'Comlngt' he asked in a none-too-agreeable tone. Together the two boys started up the dusty road of the village. Mount Pajllma loomed hlgh above them. It was a strange mountain: the sort that artists pick to palnt, and poets attempt to describe. The natives looked upon lt wlth awe, and doubtless lt was the foundation of many of their super- stltlons. Althogh lt was not an usually high mountain, lt was very steep and bare a strange resemblance to an ice-cream cone. lt was so unlike the other mountains around lt, that this along was enough to set lt apart from them. lt was toward this mountain that the boys turned their footsteps, the native eagerly, the American reluctantly. Donald found lt very tlresome cllmblng the wlndlng trall, while the pack on his back did not add to the comfort. He was vastly irritated by the ease wlth which Ion carried hls pack and he wlshed that he were not perpetually grinning. Jon noticed hls surly temper, but he only grinned good naturedly. The mountain was bathed in crimson llght from the magnlflcent sunset when the boys came to lts foot. They decided to camp here for the nlght, as lt would soon be dark, and continue their trlp up the mountain tomorrow. They could not see the mountain very clearly for a dense haze seemed to hang over lts summit. The boys built a fire and prepared their supper over lt. When lt began to get dark, they put out the fire and crawled into their blankets. Suddenly Ion sprang to his feet. 'The Mountain! Lookl' he shouted. Aa Donald looked a look of amazement spread over hls face. A weird rosy light floated about its summit. 'We better go home, lon warned. l don't like it. Donald laughed tauntlngly at his fears. 'You aren't afrald of that are yous' he asked. l suppose you even thlnk she'll erupt, he sneered, snlckerlng at the thought. l'm golng home, Jon announced for the second time. 'Are you comlngt' 'Of course l'm not comlng, replled Donald alrlly. l never did run away from anything, and I don't intend to begin now. What do you take me for, anyways Maybe you think l'm a coward like you. 38