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Page 27 text:
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THE CHIMES 25 Then in the west A patch of blue, — And soon the sun Shone plainly through. Mildred Young, '30. MY SHIP My ship is coming home to me With treasures from across the sea, With gold and silver, diamonds, pearls, For little boys and little girls, Poor, neglected, orphans from foreign lands. When my ship is anchored, these will be my plans : With the gold I will build for the children dear New homes to keep them from evil fear ; I will hire servants and with silver pay To see that they have care both night and day. The jewels will be for food, clothes, and toys So as to keep them full of joys. All this and more I'll do without fee When my laden ship comes home from sea. Bernadette Lavoine, '32. A FIGURE-FOOLER 9 11 13 15 17 Above is given a rectangle divided into 25 boxes. You are allowed the numbers 1 to 25 to put in these spaces. The same number can not be used twice. The idea is to arrange those numbers in the boxes so as to have their sum in one row equal to 65. If the puzz le is finished correctly you will be able to add 65 in 12 different columns, — five vertical, five horizontal and two diagonal. The figures already given are there to help you start it. See how clever you are. Solution will be given in next issue of the Chimes. Herbert Dwyer, '30.
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Page 26 text:
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24 THE CHIMES THE INVADER A number of years before the cross-word puzzle fad was adopted by the American people, there came into the limelight a new and most fascinating diversion. Although this new out-door sport had been practised in an earlier period, it had never attracted much attention. This game probably originated in some of the European countries. Now for the name of this wondrous game — the simple word Golf. The requisites of this game are one or more players, who are each accompanied by a small youngster car- rying a long, spherical leather or canvas bag in which there are several shafts of wood mounted on one end with flat pieces of iron, projecting out from one side ; a number of small vhite balls ; and a fistful of sand. The sand, having been placed on the ground, the ball is then in turn placed on the mound of sand. The object of the game is to drive the ball as far as possible. A club is selected by the player, who makes a half attempt to hit the little ball. His goal is a distant up- right flag placed in a hole which is surrounded by a law n-like terrace. Upon hitting the ball, the player sets forth to retrieve it. When he finds it, he again makes a brave attempt to drive it nearer the hole. So this game goes on for nine or eighteen holes, at the end of which time the player counts up the number of strokes it took to get the tiny ball into the holes. So much for the description of the game. On a sunny afternoon in early summer one may see at a golf club crowds of men and women playing this famous game, — young men, old men, grandmothers and grandfathers, daughters and sons, all enthusiastic over a few sticks and a handful of golf balls. All the men, whether young or old, wear short pants and shirts with sleeves rolled up, as a costume. It is not a strange sight to see an old man of sixty or seventy years of age wearing this costume of the younger set. Golf is the cause of men's becoming raving maniacs, and of married women's becoming widows. One hears a golfer telling of what a fine score he got that niorning. The next day after a round or two, he becomes so discouraged that he throws his clubs in the pond. It is an aggravating game and one who plays it must have plenty of patience. Nevertheless, this game of ''Golf has ruled suioreme among the richer class of people and will probably continue in popu- larity. George Lowell, '31. THE STORM The winds blew, The trees creaked. And through the sky The lightning streaked.
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Page 28 text:
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26 THE CHIMES THE GOLDEN DOME Of all the awe-inspiring memories of childhood days, that of the Golden Dome is the only one that can still send a thrill through my body and warm shivers up and down the length of my spine. From the day that I was ''knee high to a grasshopper ' hardly large enough to tug open one of the drawers under the pantry shelves and planting both tiny feet squarely in the middle of the spandy clean table linen, secure a firm grip on the object of my labors, the Golden Dome has been my in- spiration. Many are the reverent glances that the fourth shelf in Gram's pantry has received, for there reposes the Golden Dome. It sits there black and solemn and uninteresting, — uninteresting until my roving eye glimpses its beaming face which grins tauntingly. After I stare at it a while with round wondering eyes, the uncanny twinkling and beaconing of its bright face get under my skin. Then begins the construction of the stairs which will enable me to reach the desired goal. Many breathless seconds elapse as the drawers are pulled out one by one, and after many puffings and bumpings of the head the fourth shelf is reached. Reverently and with trembling fingers, the grinning demi- god is lifted from its place and opened. Captain Kidd's treasure was indeed mediocre when com- pared with the wealth that issues forth from the yawning gap which is the laughing mouth of the Golden Dome ! Great, fat, round, sugary doughnuts with — Oh ! such a tantalizing odor; plump golden-brown cream cakes which fairly ooze sweet, yellow cream when you bite into them ; thin crispy crunchy sugar cookies that crackle merrily as they are pushed helter skelter into a pink mouth ; and slim dainty lady fingers freshly powdered like soft, white fleecy clouds ! Oh ! the Golden Dome of Heaven itself could cover no greater treasures than does the gleaming Golden Dome of the fourth shelf. Esther Perry, '32. THE SEA IN SEASON A summer sea is calm and smooth. With baby waves that scarcely move ; While roughened with the North Wind bold Stands winter sea — gray, sullen, cold. The summer sea, with its caress Rolls in upon the shore at rest ; The sea in winter, with its fangs. Lashes and snarls at the stony sands. But whether 'tis rough and raging wild Or whether 'tis calm and peaceful and mild, 'Tis beauty, in an artist's sight, And to paint it, is his heart's delight. Judith Partridge, '29.
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