Scarborough High School - Four Corners Yearbook (Scarborough, ME)

Page 17 text:

I Orval «T. Emerson “Donty” Basketball (2, 3, 4); Public Speaking (3); 4-H Club (1, 2, 3, 4); Track (2, 3. 4); Dramatic Club (2); Student Council (3); Baseball (3, 4); State 4-H Camp (1). “If she be not fair for me. What care I how fair she be? : . Preston D. Plummer 4-H Club (1, 2, 4). “Not much talk—only a pleasant silence. For not in speech are all our best thoughts known. ■ ! Don Harrington “Don” Basketball (3); Baseball (3); Track (3); Senior Drama (3). “And In debate the teachers owned his skill. For, e’en tho vanquished he could argue still.”

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Klli j Ruth V Very ” Basketball (1, 2. 3. 4); Glee Club (3); Track (1, 2, 3); Junior Red Cross (4); Volleyball (4); Dramatic Club (2); 4-H Club (1, 2, 3); Sports Editor of Fora Corners (2); Joke Editor of Four Corners (4). ‘She is jolly to walk with. And witty to talk with. And pleasant, too. to think on. ' Coha M. Webber 4-H Club (1. 2. 31; Swimming (3. 4); Volleyball (41; Junior Red Cross (41; Home Eco¬ nomics Club (1, 2); Dramatic Club (2). “I hear a voice you cannot hear Which says 1 must not stay I see a hand you cannot see Which beckons me away,” George IT. Miixiken “Mill” Basketball (2. 3. 4, Manager 4); Track (2, 3. 4); Rifle (31; Cross-Country (2); Swim¬ ming (2, 3. 4); Baseball (2, 3, 4): Class President (3); Student Council (2, 3). He proved the best man in tbe field : And for his meed, was brow-bound with the palm.” M. Josephine Wen nek “Jo” Garrison High, la. (1, 2, 3); Vinton High, la. (Vz year); Scarboro High (Vz year). “Oh. blest with temper whose unclouded ray. Can make tomorrow cheerful as today.”

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THE DEVIL AND MR. DRIVER The scene of these happenings might have been laid on any highway in the world, but to be specific we shall take the stretch of highway running from Boston to Portland. It is a very fine piece of roadway, but to enjoy it one should drive over it slowly so as to appreciate the beau¬ tiful pine-clad hills and the interminable vistas of the sea. Mr. Driver, a traveling agent for a Boston firm, made one round trip each week between the above-mentioned cities. He had one thing that marred his other¬ wise happy existence: his car. not a very late model, was pitifully lacking in speed, and this caused him much trouble, making him an envious and rather cynical man. He had often said that he would do almost anything if he could only have a decent car. This was the state of things when the story begins. Mr. Driver was making his weekly trip to Portland. It was in the middle of the night, and Mr. Driver was in a particularly evil humor, for he was hours late. Just as he reached the center of the marsh, which lies about seven miles from Portland, one of his tires blew out. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Mr. Driver’s blood pressure rose and the words began to flow. He raved and he cursed, lie ran through his exten¬ sive vocabulary and was running back at full speed when he noticed that he was not alone. Sitting on the running board of his car was an odd-looking personage. For the most part, this man was black, not the glistening black of a negro, but a dull, sooty black that seemed to be the accumu¬ lation of ages. As one could easily tell from his sooty appearance, it was Satan himself who was sitting there with a bliss¬ ful expression on his face. When Mr. Driver caught sight of his visitor, he stopped in amazement, but Old Nick exclaimed, “Oh! don’t stop. It ' s been years since I’ve heard such an abb conversationalist.” Expressions indicating conflicting emotions pursued each other across the countenance of Mr. Driver, but an expression of sublime delight soon su¬ perseded the rest. At last he had found a sympathetic listener to whom he could pour out all his woes. He started to talk, and when the east began to lighten with the coming of the dawn, he was still talk¬ ing. His visitor noticed the near approach of day, and after telling Mr. Driver lie would see him sometime in the future, he disappeared over the marsh,