Tower Hill School - Evergreen Yearbook (Wilmington, DE)

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Th e Tower qpial ARRIVAL THE long slim dreadnought was nearing port. As she entered the harbor she gave three long blasts on her whistle telling all other craft to get out of the way. Signal iiags were run up on the wireless mast. These told what ship it was and who was on board. The Captain gave an order. Suddenly thir- teen loud explosions broke the stillness of the night, one right after the other. An answering salutation came from the fort on the shore, and a searchlight streamed through the darkness and lit up the ship. The fort was making sure which ship was dock- ing. The Wireless buzzed and sparks gave a wireless message to the captain ordering him to anchor on the other side of the har- bor. The battleship moved slightly and the anchor slid with a great rattle and splash into the water. A boat left the ship. All was quiet. The warship had docked. WILLIAM A. HART, Eighth Grade. NIGHT FALL I WALKED out on the rickety dock. The air was cool and soothing and I sat down, allowing my feet to swing over the side just above the silent water. Across the lake the last golden rays of the sinking ball of fire tipped the tops of the trees and gilded them with sunlight. But it lasted only for a mo- ment as the golden mass sank quickly out of sight and night shadows and sounds began to creep up all around me. The dark, dark green of the hemlock trees outlined the lake with uneven jagged shadows-almost pur- plish black in the dimming twilight. Only the sky was having its last fling for the day: it was a coral pink shade fading off into lav- ender and pale blue. The World was still while solitude and silence crept over me and enveloped me in a cloak of quiet beauty. I could almost hear the Angelus ringing out o'er the land, for it was the time when pray- ers should be offered. The whole world seemed to come to a standstill to worship at this time-it was a sacred moment. At moments like these, one forgets all else except the calmness, the serenity and the beauty of just such a paradisical place as this. A fish jumped near by with a startling splash, a bat swooped over my head, the last call of a bird echoed from a cave close by and then night descended quickly. The twinkling stars came peeping out one by one, as though a city was being lighted by a lamp lighter of bygone days. Slowly he ignited each one until his job was ended and the whole sky city was ablaze. A A cool, damp mist settled like a blanket o'er the lake protecting it faithfully from the sharp winds of the night-but I, being un- protected, shivered and hated the thought of seeking a shelter. MARY ANN RANKEN, '34. ON TELEPHONING ONE of the greatest and most entertain- ing inventions of mankind is the tele- phone. I believe that it was originally per- fected for practical use in case of emergency or for conveying momentous and consequent information from one household to another, from one office to another, or from office to home. It is, of course, still used for such purposes by the majority of the citizens of our country, but it seems that the youth of today employs the instrument for a means of exchanging gossip, and it has become an es- sential of the home for entertainment. Lo- cal news, hot off the griddle, is necessary to complete one's social position and popularity. It seems that the more a person knows about none of anyone's business the greater asset +6118

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he is to his community. One is rated by one's gossiping capacity and here is Where the telephone makes its appearance. The lucky person who chances to confide the first bit of eye-opening, sit-up-and-take-notice scandal to the next luckier person naturally uses the quickest and handiest method, the 'phone. I recently overheard what seemed to be a soliloquy enacted by an elderly member of our household: Hello-is this you ?-Well -my dear, you have no idea how shocked I was-how utterly mortified-and oh, how un- bearably disgraceful it all is! What in the world shall we do about it ?-Why, why- think of her family name and her social standing-she was such a nice girl! What's that? Oh! Yes, I'll tell you what I heard if you will not breathe it to a soul-no, not even to Marg. Keep it strictly confidential -and you know, I really shouldn't tell you, but then- And finally this victim of the telephone complex imparts her tale of scan- dalous woe through the wires to her long- suffering auditor, who, in turn passes on this strictly confidential bit under bonds of like promises. And that is one danger of our old friend the telephone. One can so easily let slip what one shou1dn't while off one's guard. Younger members of this gossiping age utilize the instrument for the same motive, but in a more subtle fashion. I find that I am often guilty of conversation such as: Yeah!? Well, what d'ya' want? 'Zat so? Why I'd hope so! Un-um. That's just like him- the lousy nut- What's his big idea? Now, you lay offa that stuff. Yeah. O. K. Be seeing ya. My conversation is, however, rarely so brief. Last year my nightly routine consisted of an hour and a half of study, and from one to two hours of 'phoning. This period was di- vided into sessions with several different members of the likewise affected. A hard and heavy rule which almost broke my heart .sis 'Tower will School and deprived me of my main joy in life was laid down at the beginning of this year. My father, having stood one year too many of the meaningless nothingness of my prattle, decreed there would be no 'phoning after sev- en o'clock. Now my evenings are spent in complete quietness and gloom after the seven o'clock dead-line. My heart still skips a beat, then stands still for one short moment as I hear the familiar jingle of the bell-but alas, if it chances to be for me I must suffer in silence and ponder on into the dusk as to who it could have been, while my heart re- gains its former composure. Of course, you know, no one would take advantage of the short period between dinner and seven, no, the urge does not move a soul until along aboutf eight, and then it is in vain. You, who have not used your 'phones to the best of your ability and too you, who have used them moderately-I advise, urge, and plead with you to put them into constant operation. Talk into the foolishly small, in- tricate black mouthpiece for your own amusement, to please others, to keep in touch with all around you, and even for practical uses-and get the kick and spice out of the mystery of a shapeless, dementionless, in- definite, bottomless voice. Its mere magical uncertainty will attract you. No, this won- derful modern institution will never be for- saken. ELIZABETH TAYLOR, '35. BARNS I LIKE barns, old barns, but clean, inhabit- ed ones, not the musty and neglected kind. They are a specialty of mine in the fall and winter, though not in the summer, for it is so hot that the bits of hay seem to sprout bris- tles and stick to you, making a hay loft an unpleasant lounge. In the fall the hay and straw is nice and fresh and sweet, but by