Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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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.

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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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THE CHIMES 21 ON A MOONLIGHT NIGHT Doris Overland, ' 34 Silver moonbeams were streaming througli the trees, those tall, lovely poplar trees that stood fir.nly silhouetted against the night sky, and hid in their shadows little sylvan g lens where queer things happen. The wind was hhjwing ' gently, oh, so gently. It swayed the poplars arid Idew across the hills, making the long fragrant grass rise and fall like the weaves of a billowy ocean. It whistled through the branches of the stern oaks and managed to shake the aus- tere elms slightly. A gay weird spirit captured the night. I felt H a ' I sat there on a rock watching multitudes of stars twinkle. I glanced at the poplars. They seemed to be smiling. Faint strains of music — oh, ever so faint — were carried on the breeze. Adiat was the matter with me? I saw, yes, I saw tiny figures on the grass. I was just wondering whether to blame Virgil or Hamlet for this when a much taller figure jumped out from behind the trees. Unlike the spirits with their dainty little wings and funny antlers, the figure looked quite human. Youth, I thought, trying to ignore the fantastic ])ranc- ing of the sprites, you are quite crazy to be out on a cold night with only a silly silk blouse and cap with pompons and velvet trousers on. ' ' The fairies began to dance more quickly. The strains of music grew louder. Then wonders upon wonders this wraith of a human began to sing, marvelously, tetiderly. Youth, I said, unable to think that he might not be a youth, perhaps beginning to believe that I was having hal- lucinations, someone could make a Caruso out of you. Come before you catch your death of cold. Come! ' ' But the playful breeze carried my voice away. I gasped in surprise, for a young maiden was running across the hills. The rash youth was following her. She, foolish thing, was clad like him. The great pompons on their clothes bobbed in the wind that whistled after them. She turned, and I saw that her face was ridiculous. She had