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Page 15 text:
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THE PIONEER PAGE SEVEN GIRLS’ ATHLETICS This year’s Girls’ Hockey squad was organized with E. Anderson as cap¬ tain, and E. Benjamin as manager. A practice game was played at Stone- ham on November 8, in which our team was defeated 5-0. The work of our girls playing against a league team was very satisfactory to the coach, Miss Florence Nichols. The lineup consisted of E. Anderson, center; M. Connelly, G. Hickey, left inner; G. MacAuley, O. Conti, R. Web¬ ster, right inner; E. Benjamin, left wing; C. Weafer, F. Marchetti, D. Me- lendy, right wing; Rita Ainsworth, right halfback; B. Kerr, left halfback; M. Richards, center halfback; E. Ells, M. Rielly, fullback; M. Griswold, guard. The members of the squad who did not play at Stoneham were E. Con¬ nelly, D. Eaton, M. Lewis, and H. Parker. During the week of November 25, the girls’ gym classes elected leaders, who chose teams for interclass sports. The object is to stimulate competition between the gym classes. Each class has four teams, the lead¬ ers of which are: L. Clifford, B. Ives, A. Leach, M. Moreau, H. Ellison, G. Wright, J. Clark, E. Gage, R. Pomfret, R. Chesley, C. Kinsley, C. Pitman, R. Pitman, A. Poole, M. Richards, E. Quigley, P. Littlefield, H. Byram, R. Parker, K. Spencer, E. Benjamin, E. Anderson, E. Riemer, M. Connelly. D. T. P. ’30. IN THE FLAME CASTLE I sensed that last night would find me paying another visit to the Flame Castle. Somehow I felt perverse, in¬ credulous. Those other visits—they were probably only evening dreams. But tonight I would make sure. I tried to will myself there, but it was not until I was half asleep with the effort of concentration that I found myself being bowed into the long hall by my friend, the Flame-man. But the hall was not the same. Be¬ fore, it had been black and dark; now, doors were thrown open along its length ; flickering lights made the place bright; the walls were hung with cloth of a glorious tangerine hue. From the rooms on either side came the sounds of gaiety. The immense room, which was the only one I had been in before, was decorated extravagantly, and down its length was a banquet table laden with the finest linen, silver, and glass. The room, however, was empty. My host led me to seat of honor. Then he turned towards the drawn cur¬ tains at the end of the room and clap¬ ped his hands three times. The cur¬ tains drew slowly apart while music, so beautiful it seemed unreal, heralded the appearance of a company of peo¬ ple, handsomely dressed who two by two advanced and bowed, first to their leader, then to me. As they took their places, I saw that their clothes were of every color ever seen in a fire, but their faces were curiously indistinct and wavering. I looked for the people that I had seen on the stage in this very room, but I could distinguish none. While the unseen musicians played, food was placed on the table, strange, queer food, of which I had never seen the like before. I could not describe it now, but though each had a distinc¬ tive taste every kind left an odd, burn¬ ing sensation in my mouth. At last the feast was over. I was conducted into some of the apartments on either side of the hall. In some, these flame people were dancing, in others, they were playing games, or simply talking congenially together. Everywhere they greeted me courteous¬ ly, but I do not know now whether I joined in the games or conversation. It all seemed blurry and fantastic.
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Page 16 text:
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PAGE EIGHT THE PIONEER At last we were all gathered in the great room again. The table had been removed, but waiters were passing trays on which were slender goblets filled with what was literally liquid fire. When everyone had a glass, the Flame-man proposed my health, and everyone drank. Laughingly, I, too, drank to myself. Instantly I felt giddy, irresponsible, aiid careless of conse¬ quences. ' ’ 0 1 Thus when the Flame-man, turning to me asked, “And what do you think of us here?” I was possessed of an Alice-in-Wonderland-mood, and even as she had answered, I returned gayly, thoughtlessly, “Why you are only lumps of coal!” For one terrible moment there was absolute silence. Then each person became an eager, reaching flame bend¬ ing towards me, greed in the grasping, curling fingers. I screamed in terror— then, I was standing alone, and the fire smouldered angrily. What had I done? What had I done? But even as I stared bewilderedly, the truth came with crushing clarity, overwhelming me with everlasting remorse—for the Flame Castle was gone—forever. B. J. B. ’31. REG ARDING HORSES AND CARRIAGES Not long ago, while jaunting rather aimlessly around the streets of our beautiful old town in company with two other lads and a Ford sedan, all equally infected with the wanderlust, I encountered a sight which led me to believe that prehistoric days were home on a visit. After puzzilng over the sight for a few moments, our masterful brains deciphered the puzzle. Believe it or not, the queer craft ahead was a horse and-carriage ! Why, I wondered, should anyone (especially two lofty Senior girls with two insignificant So¬ phomore boys) wish to reconnoitre in this strange vehicle ? Since then I have thought over the question and have found some light in what at first seemed an impenetrable sea of dark¬ ness. First think of the delicious distinc¬ tion in riding in a dear old rickety carriage. And consider the attention you gain. Perhaps you have tried un¬ successfully for years to have your angelic physiognomy adorn the front page of your local rotogravure section. If so, here is the solution to your prob¬ lem. Not only are you in the limelight, but, if conditions are right, you will also be in the headlights. And horns of various new Fords, trailing in pro¬ cession, acclaim your new-found pres¬ tige. Another gorgeous possibility is Sauntering nonchalantly down the mid- that of holding up traffic behind you. die of the road, impervious to outraged motorists, who in sweet, gentle tones urge you to draw to one side of the highway, is indeed excellent sport. I might also mention that in the case of the horse I am featuring the pick-up was marvellous. Also remember that the horse is alive; he is not a piece of machinery. You may call the hand¬ some thoroughbred by all sorts of pet endearments, especially when the gal¬ lant steed balks. Ah, what beautiful fondnesses are articulated at these moments ! And don’t forget the “back¬ seat.” It is only an outside extension of the floor, and the view ahead is not so much—merely a blank. But what is this to the two occupants of this position? And please uuu. tnat driv¬ ing a horse is a great economy. Lyric¬ ally speaking, you buy no gas; the horse eats grass. How much more money is left with which to procure jelly beans ! No tire trouble nor traf¬ fic cops annoy you; you have a long whip to flourish grandiloquently. And say what you will, the bumps are not so bad. And speaking of bumps you cant crack your cranium on a steel frame as a certain youthful adventurer did, as a certain Ford sedan careened rather widly around a certain horse and carriage of which I am thinking.
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