Princeton Day School - Link Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

Page 37 text:

Ann Wiley D5 Surveying the vastness ahead, the camel noticed the ill-arranged floor plan of the desert with few oases and many dunes. Thus she noted that the jour- ney across the Grand Keuka desert would be both perilous and tedious, demanding endurance and pa- tience. At the first oasis, the desert-raiding humpers from the village Cnot to be confused with the Attilan raidersj invited her to partake of their tea. They wished to prepare her for the excursion ahead. As she trekked through the arid land, her tea ranneth low, but her moralfej remained high. Finally she reached her destination - the first in the history of the caravan. As thousands cheered, the undaunted camel simply and modestly uttered, Il n'y a pas de quo1. Moral: Only a camel can get you through an Arabian night. 33

Page 36 text:

jonathan Paynter All the animals respected him. Yep. And when strangers came into the forest the animals would gather round his comfortable crotch in the middle of a large oak tree. He would walk out onto his platform. ' As each individual animal saw him, they stopped talking to each other to see what their wise old owl had to say. The ears of each animal stretched so as not to miss a word. What is the problem, gentlemen? They told him of the stranger and asked his advice. Problems are man-made, he an- swered. We do not have a problem un- til we start worrying about something. They all looked at each other as if hypnotized. Yl'Y'ep. il Sure, He's right. We just won't worry. That's it. They walked away talking. The Owl stood out for a while, adjusted his eyes, and walked back into his tree. Smiling.

Page 38 text:

ln a small estuary in Nova Scotia, a large turtle was washed ashore. She stayed there for a fortnight, chilled, lost, reciting in Greek, C'What man, what hero, what god? D until the experts came from Harvard. They stared. They had heard she was a talking turtle, and of her predilection for classics. They politely offered the boxes of Greek manuscripts sacked from the Li- brary. But nothing happened for since she could read by herself, she did not feel like reciting, and, her head buried in the poetry, she looked up only to flip through the dictionary at her left. The scientists thought her unreasonable. But after three days they rose from their haunches and began the delicate task of phylomizing her. The analysis proved intricate, and they were offered no help by the turtle herself, who read seven hundred lines a day and then one of the mysteries the scientists had brought along for their own amusement. They were soon convinced that if they could categorize her they would be assured of an intellectual breakthrough. To do so, they would have to make her speak. They started subtly. Ah, l am struck deep with a deadly blow, one exclaimed. How was my Agatha Christie? asked a second. No answer. They could not induce her, after some time they were reduced to rage, and went around shouting Chelonia mydas mydas? Eretmochelys imbricata imbricata'?! Lepidochelys Kempi?! She was glad when they went away. They spoke such horrid Greek. c13p.oc, niwknyuan xoupiav wlnvfhv Earn. Aes chylus . AGAME MNON Sarah Brett-Smith fl t