Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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16 THE CHATTERBOX guish the landscape. Gradually, her eyes became accus- tomed to the brightness and she saw that she was on a lonely island in mid-ocean. Anita could see numerous small clumps of tall grasses growing about on the island, and a splendid idea came to her. She resolved to fashion a skirt and a waist from these, so that she might remove her own clothing and dry it. It did not take long to accomplish this, and soon she was garbed in the primitive garments, and her own lay drying in the sunlight. Just as she was coming from the cave she heard a long shrill whistle. What could it be? (to be continued) —V. B. ’25 FAITH Oft’ when the morning dawns in beauty rare. The whole wide world seems free from strife and care. We stand and watch the mist so slowly rise, Viewing with joy the splendor of the skies, As nature’s beauties lie before our eyes. But sometimes on so bright and fair a day, Our hearts are far from being light and gay. Burdened by a load of sorrow and care. We see but dark’ning shadows everywhere. (There’d be no crown were there no cross to bear). We are as small crafts on the troubled deep, We know not what to do our course to keep. There is one thing alone to do—,We must Have faith, and in our Lord put all our trust, He knoweth what is best and He is just. —T. L. L. ’23

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THE CHATTERBOX 15 The latter she used first, but nowhere was she able to see land. She was lying on some fur robes with other robes wrapped about her. Beside her was a lantern and a stove. “What could they want of her?” she was ask- ing herself when she heard one of the men say,“You run over, Pete, and see if the girl’s asleep. If she is I’ll tell you something, but be sure that she is.” Anita closed her eyes. Pete came strolling over, and looked cautiously at her. “She’s asleep,” he said. “Never’s woke up, I guess.” Joe proceeded, “Albert Bar- stone is my uncle— Anita had hard work to keep still. So this was her cousin, Joe Marlowe, was it? Her father’s sister’s son. A high wind was rising and the girl drew the robes more closely about her. “You’re forgettin’ the other feller,” said Pete, and then Anita heard a loud crash and all was darkness once more. Was this some terrible dream, or was she really ly- ing there in that dark place? Anita shivered and reached for blankets to pull up over her, but there were no blankets to pull. She felt of her clothing. It was wet—as wet as the sea itself, and she tried to move her stiffened joints. Af- ter a few efforts she concluded that it was of no use to try to get up. She sank back, exhausted. Then, realizing that she must get up. she made a last effort. This time she succeeded in rising. She walked around until she spied a faint streak of light. Going in the direction whence it came she found that she was in a cave and this was the opening. As she first stepped into the open, with the bright rays of sunlight in her eyes, she could but faintly distin-

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THE CHATTERBOX 17 GIFTS God planted a flower in that garden there, And it grew from a bud to a blossom fair. ’Twas nourished and cherished, that flower so rare, But I picked it, it withered and died. God planted a seed by the roadside there, 'Twas choked by the dust from everywhere; And the wind tried hard from its roots to tear, The little stem which strove to bear. At length, no blossom from that seedling came, But a sturdy tree arose on high, And birds sang a song that bore its name; It sheltered for years the passerby. —B. N. B. ’22 FRIENDSHIP We all have friends. The worst and the best, Have someone dearer to them than the rest. He who has a fond, true friend is blessed. There is always somebody in this land, Who, when we’re in trouble takes our hand. And says, “O, my friend, T understand.” If you would wish for a friend to keep. Be with him if he laugh or weep; Love him with a love sincere and deep; To have friends you must be a friend. Be ready a helping hand to lend, Be faithful even unto the end. Wherever your path may chance to be, Choose quality, not quantity ; Choose friends who help to you will be; If your life you gave for a friend one day, ’Twould be worth it all to hear him say, “He did it for friendship, not for pay.” —T. L. L. ’23