Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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20 THE CHBIES W ' AITIXG Harriet Pierce, ' 31 Imagine yourself, for a few minutes, to l)e waiting- for a friend on a Inisy street corner in a large city. Peo])le are hurrying- to and fro like a swarm of bees, each intent upon his own business and not paying the slightest attention to you. You arrive, we will suppose, a few minutes early, hoping that you will not have to wait long ' . At first you amuse yourself by noticing the different people that pass by, wheth- er they are rich or poor, sad or happy, and whether they are of the working or leisure class. You soon tire of this oc- cupation. Then you begin to watch the clock opposite or your wrist watch, both of which show you the correct time. She, your friend, must surely arrive now, you say to your- self. It is almost past the time appointed, — and you shift your weight to the other foot. You begin to scan the various faces carefully now for a glimpse of a familiar face, but none appears. Then you are actually nervous. You watch the clock anxiously, compar- ing it with your watch, — but then, she said that she might be a few minutes late. Probably she was unavoidably de- tained at the last second, you try to reassure yourself. That must be the reason, but it couldn ' t take this long. You are not so sure. It is then that your mind follows a flight of wild imagin- ings. Perhaps she has been run over and has been taken to a hospital, seriously hurt. ] Iay1)e she is terribly ill. ] [ayl)e — but you can ' t even think of the horrible things that might have happened. Oh, a sigh of relief escapes unconsciously. She is com- ing now. You can just barely see her smiling face through the crowd. All unconscious of your anxiety, she hurries toward you saying that she hopes you haven ' t been waiting very long. She was just talking with an old friend, whom she hadn ' t seen for years. You smile and say that it was all right. How we cause ourselves unnecessary torture by Avorrying and lack of patience ! It isn ' t worth the toll it takes. ] Ir. Cole: AVhat is the difference between the Paris Pact and the Kellog Pact? Jerry : Oh, just a matter of cornflakes.

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THE CHIMES 19 MY DOG Elizabeth Willard, ' 30 My dog is what people commonly call a ' ' mongrel ' ' or a yellow cur. ' ' He, being a mixture of collie and German police, is subject to these insulting names and many others. Even if he is a cheesehound, he can roll over for a piece of cake if you keep at him long enough. The thing he does most easily is sitting up with his paws on the tal)le tc ask for his tea or coffee. No doubt this helps him to be more of a mongrel as no aristocratic dog would drink — tea or coffee. His greatest achievement is singing. When there is company at home, Dad is sure to ask me to make that dog sing. No one else has enough breath. I will sing an octave higher than any prima donna ever sang; my face gets as red as a cooked beet; and still that foolish dog sits at my feet, cocking his ears and head and looking up into my face, no doubt wondering why I make such a jack ' ' of myself. When at last he joins me, his voice sounds like a fog horn. Our two voices do not blend harmonious- ly. Trying to get that doggie to sing is worse than trying to start our car on a cold winter ' s morn. But just the same I would not sell my mongrel pup for any amount of money. APRIL Barbara Knox, ' 33 April showers are coming; Winter winds have gone; Soon will be the blue birds From their winter home. Then the buds will open In the sunny air; To all the little garden folks. So merry and so fair. THE CHIMES Paul Bresnahan, ' 33 C is for its contents that didn ' t come from Rome, H is for the happiness the Chimes brings to your home, I is for the interest that in it scholars take, M is for the make-up, like frosting on a cake. E is for endorsers who bought at our behest, S is for the students who contributed their best.

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THE CHIMES 21 My Story from the Painting THE END OF THE TRAIL Ellen Merritt, ' 33 Probably everyone has seen the painting The End of the Trail. This painting has been copied by other artists but the real painting itself is beautiful. It is symbolic of the Indians ' last stand. It is a picture of an Indian mounted one a brown horse whose head is lowered and tail drooped. The Indian has a spear under his arm and his head is lower- ed as if he were praying for help as he realizes that he has no chance of seeing his friends again. The Indian and the horse are on what seems to be the top of a mountain or a cliff at sunset. The sky has the most beautiful colors of the rainbow in it. The picture itself is really a story and all people may have different opinions as to what it means. The story which I derive from this painting seems to me what it really means; but, of course your ideas may be dif- ferent. My story is as follows : About two hundred or more years ago, the Indians had a struggle with the white people of this country. This was most likely on account of the white people ' s driving the Indians back and cutting down their trees for the build- ing of houses. The white people also killed the animals and wild birds which caused them to decrease. The Indians having stood this long enough, became angry, and they decided to fight for their own rights. The setting of this would probably be in New Hampshire, near the mountains or near the ocean. The battle was started by the Indians attacking the white people on a bright summer afternoon. They fought all the afternoon, the white people holding the victories. They had killed many of the Indians, and those not killed were scattered away from the rest. In the middle of the afternoon, the white people w ere fighting against nine brave Indians. This struggle did not last long; all of the Indians but one had been killed. This one got onto one of the horses, and was riding away when he was shot by one of the white men, which later caused his death. He rode on and on, until at sunset, he reached the top of a mountain which he loved. In his younger life, he had played at this very spot and he had planned to be buried there. He halted the horse and took his last look at the beautiful scenery, as he knew he was dying. He patted the horse which had