Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 19 FISHING Selwyn H. Chipman, ' 31 When the sun has just liegiin to shoot grey streaks across the horizon, anonuncing its coming and the start of a beautiful day, the fisherman becomes alert and starts pre- parations for a long day ' s hike. The lunch, tackle, and bait packed, he is ready to go, after the speedy and glut- tonous devouring of a big breakfast. He dons l:is coat, picks up his pole and bait box, and is off for the day. Onward he trudges to the song of birds and the whisper of leaves. He whistles a snatch from some melodious strain as he thinks of the big ones that will lie flopping in his basket before his quest is done. Onward he trudges, his bamboo pole raising a cloud of dust as it trails along behind him. He swings along jaun- tily, filled wnth the spirit and beauty of the surrounding forest and aware of that wonderful sensation of being per- fectly burdenless and carefree. Onward he trudges as the day becomes warmer. Once, he pause sas he sees a deer slipping from view among the softly murmuring trees. Again he pauses as a partridge whirs from beside his path. His trip is an interesting one and he finally arrives at the bank of the stream, where the slap of a beaver ' s tail announces his coming. He surveys the rippled water with pride and compliments himself on his choice of fishing grounds. After slaking his thirst with the cool brook-water, he sits on the ground with his back against a tree and contentedly dines on his meager lunch of a few dry sandwiches. The lonely place, its beauty, the brightly blazing sun — all fill him with the desire to tip his hat over his eyes and sleep there peacefully for the rest of his life. His reverie does not last long, how ever, for the vicious bite of a little black fly brings him swiftly back to the realiz- ation that he must smear his face and hands, neck and ears, and any other exposed part of his being upon w ' iich the numerous little pests are so content to dine, with some so- lution distasteful to the palate of these aforesaid n.uisances. This task done, he quickly prepares his tackle and casts his

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18 THE CHIMES of the shingles torn off. I ' he newspapers have 1ieen full of stirrint - items, lately, about the storm, and they rei)orted alxHit $3,000,000 worth of damage along the coast. When T returned home again, after viewing all that destruction, it seemed a miracle to n.ie that our house was intact while every other cottage along the beach had 1)een damaged. I don ' t believe there ' s anything that can do more damage tlian a strong wind and a very high tide in an unprotected area. AND THAT ' S HOW THE STORY GOES Marguerite McCaffrey, ' 33 9.00 a. in. Doctor to Mrs. Black: ' ' Well, Mrs. Black, Em sure Susie will be all right. She has quite a bad cold, but you needn ' t worry. You go dow n to Mr. Snickem ' s pharmacy and get this pre- scription fillqd. Susie will be fit as a fiddle in a few days. Good-by. 9.10 a. m. Mrs. Black to Druggist: Good morning, Mr. Snickems, I w ant this prescrip- tion filled, if you please. Susie is sick — a very bad cold. It is almost a case of the grippe. Oh dear! It ' s one thing after another. Good day. 9.11 a. III. Druggist to his wife, Mrs. Snickems: You upstairs, Emma? Mrs. Black was just in and she said Susie Black has the grippe. Wouldn ' t surprise me if she got pneumonia out of it. Mrs. Snickems: Land sakes alive! You don ' t say. I ' ll have to go over and tell Miss Stubbins. Pneumonia — goodness gracious Agnes ! Miss Stubbins can arrange for the Busy Bee Club to send her some fruit. 9.20 7. Mrs. Snickems to Miss Stubins: Hello, Miss Stubbins, Eve got some terrible new s. Susie Black has pneumonia. Isn ' t that awful? Anid that is how Susie ' s bad cold developed into pneumonia in twenty minutes.

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20 THE CHIMES halt into the deadwater immediately at the hack of the l)eaver-(Lam. As he gives vent to a yawn and attempts to rul) the sleepiness from his half-closed eyes, a sharp tug hrings him to his senses and he curses his foolishness at not heino- ready for the first 1)ite. His desire for a nap is then disj elled for good as he makes up his mind to get the next one, pnd he quietly and determinedly settles down to catch all the hig ones in the stream. The afternoon passes swiftly in this land of any sports- man ' s paradise and he moves more swiftly from pool to pool as the sun moves westward on its never ceasing ' course. He has left the deadwater far hehind and with his hasket half full moves swiftlv down the stream, stopping only at the hest pools to try his luck. After glancing dou]:)tfully from the sun to the stream, he decides with sad resignation that he must remove his hook and hit the ' ' long, long trail. Homeward he trudges, his hasket heavy, his throat dry, l)ut when he thinks of the speckled heauties ' ' inside, the hasket seems surprisingly light and not at all hurdeusome. Homeward he trudges, with leaden feet but a light and joyous heart. He remembers how that big one tug-ged, and the rough and stony trail becomes shorter and smooth- er as he reflects on the many pleasures that day has held for him. The sun is disappearing below the horizon as he finally reaches camp. He is tired but happy. He has spent a day that might be justly classified as perfect, and the tired grin on his smeared and dirty face by no means belies his pleas- ure and satisfaction. A fishing trip such as this always holds something new in store, and the thrills and pleasures of the wilds are more and more appreciated by either novice or ' ' old timer as he learns of the great out doors. Our angler now is at his journey ' s end — at camp, his temporary home — and there we leave him, thoughfully gaz- ing into the glowing embers of his dying campfire. Alex: Say, why do snow flakes dance? Smart : Practicing for the snowball, I guess.