Tower Hill School - Evergreen Yearbook (Wilmington, DE)

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The Tower CDial I resume my reading. When I look up and gaze out of the window again, a view of a fleeing landscape meets my vision. Hills fringed with green, over which great billowy clouds seem to be sliding, a sparkling brook, a red barn, or a colorful farm house, cattle grazing peacefully on spring grass, a winding road are some of the things that I catch glimpses of. Now the train is chug, chug, chugging along an ascent on a mountain side and we are gradually gaining height. A pan- orama of a winding, shining river on which tug-boats, excursion boats, fishermen's boats are moving, of groups of oak trees which line its sloping banks, of bridges which are spanned across it, of roads, of fields like patches on a brown coat puffed out in places and in deep folds in others, now greets me. Over yonder a series of neat houses are in a row, with red or green roofs gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Again I resume my book and again I stop, this time, however, because of a sudden jerk -the train has come to a small station. One of our many passengers gets off. Then the train again starts and with each chug I am coming nearer and nearer to my destination, for the train is eating up the miles. On thinking back over this trip a few of these glimpses from the train window flash before me. I think that these views are like a moving picture of what civilization has done with itself and with this land. BETTY HAWKINS, '34. NEMESIS IT was a most unusual night. The wind came in spasmodic gusts which shook the old house from roof to cellar. The shrubbery cast eerie shadows about the grounds, flut- tering in the cold lunar radiance like things alive. . Within Roger Coleiield was feverishly running to and fro with vials of multi-col- ored liquids in his hand. The room seemed but half a laboratory, for, although one wall was equipped with scientific apparatus, the other wall was a mass of books. The Next War, The Great War, Legal Murder, Menace to Civilization, and similar vol- umes lined the wall. Several of these were lying open on a nearby table. Roger Cole- field picked up one of these and commenced to read it aloud. The next war will proba- bly wipe out the whole of civilization. It will doubtless involve every living man on the globe with its deadly gases and deadlier germ cultures, culminating in the complete annihil- ation of human life. The next war will be a lesson lost on polluted corpses and gleaming skeletons which are no longer bothered with worldly affairs. - Oh, I say, did you call, Sir? It was Williams, Coleiield's ancient man-servant. Confound it, no! thundered Roger. How many times must I tell you to never disturb me when I am at my work? Do you realize, man, that human civilization might depend on this? Oh, no, Sir ! lCWhat?!! That is, I mean, most assuredly, yes, Sir! Ah, that's better. Roger's voice took on a confident tone. You know, Williams, I am on the verge of the greatest discovery in history. A lethal gas that will produce a harmless sleep of several hours on the sub- ject. By means of this non-fatal weapon an entire army may be disarmed while in a sound sleep. Don't you see? It's the thing of a lifetime, man. Now go and leave me alone with my work. Colefield promptly returned to his laborious experimenting. Finally he immersed two electrodes in a pur- plish green liquid and stepped over to a 1419

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Does it know the beauty? Does it feel the brave, Surging thru its channels To cheat that distant grave? The brave who are the living, The brave who never die, The, brave who gather stardust From out a darkened sky. Does it smell the richness Of the earth below its feet, And see glory in the future It marches on to meet? Does it hear the rhythm Of sea and earth and time? Does it hear the music, Does it know the rhyme? Can it solve the riddle Of a world that's just begun? Does it know the outcome Of a race that isn't run ? This great and gaudy city, This thing of stone and steel, What, pray, does it know now ? What, pray, does it feel? J. STUART Goonuan, '34, GLIMPSES FRCM A TRAIN WINDOW 'PORTERJ Porter! A red cap strides by. Paper! Paper! Morning Edition! An elderly gentleman has temporarily stop- ped this dirty, ragged boy's calling. Here a family group, evidently, is giving its farewell advice to an aunt or some other relatives. There a crying child is being dragged along, his stocky legs unable to keep up with the long gait of his parent. A rumble of wheels of Q18 Tower c.7'fill ,School a handcar carrying trunks, some shiny, some like a patchwork quilt, is heard on a cement platform. The handcar is seen for a second among the throng of people, each interested in his own affairs. A glare of lights illumi- nates the faces of the people, a few sad, oth- ers intent on the project at hand, and still others laughing or chatting with a friend. Yellows, bright reds or gaudy oranges which belong to a hat in some cases or to a sweater or coat in others, catch my eye and then dis- appear or else another object attracts my at- tention. Across the platform a shiny train comes steaming in like a great monster. Its clanging bell moves intermittently. Its win- dows are a-glow from the light within, and its passengers are bustling to and fro Within it, for it has reached its destination. Puff ! puff ! our train is slowly beginning to move. A few arriving at the last minute have start- ed to run, their coat-tails a-iiying and their bags giving them an occasional bump as they make one last desperate attempt to reach the train. Chug, chug, the train is beginning to move faster and people are waving and then returning to the station room. Now the train has left the platform and set up a steady rhythm. An occasional iiash of blue, red, or yellow light, a glimpse of cold, shiny blue steel rails or a vague post is all that can be seen in this darkness of an underground entrance station. My journey has actually started. I take out my book and commence to read a story, a very interesting one. At intervals iiashes of sunshine cross the page. Why, we are out in the open at last! Above us is blue sky, and on eye-level with us are soot-covered buildings. A flabby pillow hangs out of a window, a dirty woman's face peers out of another. Lines of clothes are blowing glee- fully in the wind. Below us are streets where automobiles, trucks and an occasional wagon are seen for a moment.

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switchboard which was near at hand. Ah, now for the final test, he breathed, and with that his hand came down on a glittering knife switch. Power hummed, and gas in enor- mous bubbles gurgled up from the purple solution. Odd, thought Roger. Howl sleepy I am. I am so drowsy I can hardly keep my eyes open. Here, I must sit down. With that Colefield sank into an over-stuffed chair completely overcome with Weariness. My word, the stuff seems to be Working, he mused aloud. Oh, hang it all, there goes the 'phone. Abruptly he picked up the in- strument, What, war declared? I have met with success. Yes, my discovery has been opportune .... I shall 'phone the government laboratories. The preparation can start at once. Days later troops were assembled, the enemy surrounded in the city of New York and the first trial of Colefield-X was at hand. The bombs were detonated within the city limits and soon sleep-producing gas at- tacked every man of the enemy forces. The men were seized by an overpowering drowsi- ness that offered sleep, welcome sleep, that rested the fatigued mind and body gradual- lyg one by one they dropped off into the abyss of oblivion. Cheers greeted Colefield on ev- ery hand from the victorious army. The disarmament of the enemy had been short and complete. Suddenly the ringing of a bell beat upon Co1efield's ears. The vision faded. He was again in his room and the phone was ringing. He looked at his watch. It has all been a dream, he murmured absently. All a dream. Finally he turned and picked up the phone, Hello, what's that you say? We are at war-war? Why I have just been dreaming-Oh! The instrument fell from his hand. His whole body collapsed limply on the floor-It was no useg Roger Colefield's gas had been a failure. CHRISTY CONNER, '34, 4115 'Tower c.7'fill ,School RIDING A MOOSE TOM, Dick, and I were going hunting in Quebec, Canada. The first day out from St. Augustine de Wolbern we traveled twen- ty miles. It was very hard going, over stones, logs, hills, and creeks. We were carrying about seventy pounds apiece. This included our food supplies, rifies, and a small collapsible boat in which we were going to hunt moose. The second day out we picked up a moose trail which we followed all day in hopes of finding a moose to ride. I was very anxious to ride a moose. This is accomplished by sighting a moose when he is in the middle of a lake. Two paddlers in a boat, go after the moose, while the prospective rider sits in the middle of the boat. Since the paddlers can paddle faster than the moose can swim, one soon overtakes the desired animal. It is a quick jump to his back, as one holds a long hunting knife in his hand, and a clever trick to grab hold of his broad antlers. Then a desperate ride to the shore. Last of all there is a sharp thrust of the knife into his heart. I was to ride the first moose, Tom the sec- ond, and Dick the third. The next morning toward noon we came to some very fresh tracks along a fairly large lake. Unpacking our boat we hurried out on the lake to see if there were any moose crossing. As we rounded a point we saw one of the great beasts swimming in the middle of the lake. The paddlers set to work and as we came alongside of the quarry, I jumped on his back. He ducked his head trying' to shake me loose and set out with fast strokes for shore. How fast thoughts began racing through my head! What if I never get to shore? Whoopsl I hope he doesn't try that again! I wish he would hurry up! I wonder if I should prick him with my knife? No that might make him rear. I might drown