Princeton Day School - Link Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

Page 39 text:

The sea gull glided smoothly over the calm, blue water, exulting in the peaceful solitude of the upper air. The warmth of the sunshine saturated her with a beautiful happiness that was all her own and she began to dance. She soared upwards toward the sun and then, with a swift, elegant motion, curved in an arc, her wings extended confidently at an angle to the sea. The gull, feel- ing the cool, salty spray as she neared the waves, at the last moment turned and spiraled joyfully back up through the feather-weight air, ending the dance with a spin. In the distance, several sea gulls appeared, babbling away about all sorts of important things and occasionally bumping into each other in their happy heedlessness. Catching sight of them and observing their carefree content, the sea gull relinquished her solitude and glided away to enjoy the company of her fellow birds. Moral: Birds of a feather flock together, but the lucky one doesn't need to. ...-l Robin Murray xx 1 X

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

Page 40 text:

43' The ant was exceedingly industrious. She knew every morsel in the anthill and the number and place assigned to it. Every foray was under her indirect supervision. She chose which sorts of edibles were to have top priority, according to their size, weight, storageability and appetising appearance Cants aren't too particular as to tastej, and Where each was to be stored. When the Winter came, the rest of the colony was pleasantly sur- prised at the results of all their labor and Won- dered how it had all been accomplished. 'The in- dustrious ant smiled, and nibbled a bit of popcorn. Moral: Behind every anthill there is at least one ant. 36 Peninah Chilton