Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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1 wL 16 '4Yes, I came with some friends of mine. I didn't expect to find you here, either. Where have you been for the last seven or eight months ? A'Oh, Ilve been about everywhere, replied Shel- don, looking at Mr. Knight. You're looking well, sir. f'Thank you, my boy, you are looking rather thin. NVhat has happened to that invigorating salt air you've always been praising ? Oh, I haven,t been to Sperwink Beach for quite a while, said Sheldon quietly, his face twist- ing with unexplained emotion. I see, said Mr. Knight, watching the younger man attentively. 'lAnd your painting? Ilm told you have postponed your exhibition again. K'Yes,,' replied Sheldon, ruefully. I havenit painted a picture in months. Why don't you tell me the whole story? Therels nothing to tell. Oh, come, come, my boy, I'm no fool. Some- thing is worrying you and I want to help you. I am only interested in making you happy. I suppose it would help to tell my troubles to you especially. You might be able to advise me as to what I should do. I'll do my best, said Mr. Knight, sitting down beside Sheldon. HEarly last summer, began Sheldon, then stopped. After a time he resumed, UM1-. Knight, have you ever seen Sperwink Beach just as the sun has dipped below the pine trees, when all the world is blue-the sky, the sea, the tiny sloops, the rocks, the sand, even the dark shadowed pines -blue-every blue imaginable-turquoise, aqua- marine-indigo-? A world of supernal beauty. He paused a moment, then in a sad and quiet voice he added, f'She-the girl-was a part of that beauty. Mr. Knight's imagination was not carrying him beyond the fog which had now crawled to the very edge of the garden, hiding the river, mufiling the moaning bell buoys and steamer whistles. I had almost finished painting her portrait, continued the muted voice of the young man at his side. Then one day we planned to go swimming early the next morning at the little beach beyond my cottage. When I got there, she was already in the water swimming about and calling to me to join her. She was quite a distance from the shore and I warned her against the undertow. As I started to swim toward her, I noticed that she was not making much headway. She laughed at first but then became frightened. I told her to tread water and not to waste her strength trying to swim ashore. I knew that I couldn't help any by swimming out there myself 3 so I decided to go and get the small boat on the bank. As I started to push the boat off the sand, I knew that she was losing strength. I tried to row faster, but the boat was being swung around in the current. Once she sank beneath the water. I grew weak with fear but rowed the faster. I lost sight of her altogether then, and when I finally got to the place where I had seen her last, it was too late. I couldn't save her. It's a dreadful thing to watch any person drown. My intelligence 'may tell me that the only sensible course was to swim back for the boat, but my every instinct tells me that I should have struggled hand to hand with the terrible force which was dragging her down. I never went through such a terrible few days as I did then. All I could think of or see was her white face against those seething waters and her pleading eyes, then, one white arm slowly, slowly sinkingf' Sheldon broke off with a shudder. I stood it a week and then left, We two had planned to do such wonderful things together. VVell, I have been traveling ever since and-here I am. As Sheldon paused, John Knight turned to him with pity and understanding in his eyes and said, I'm sorry, my boy, so sorry. But you must be brave and have courage. Remember the little verse that your father used to say when you. were discouraged, 'There is a destiny that makes us brothers, none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own'. t'Yes,,' sighed Sheldon. Then fog reached out its tapering fingers and touched his feet. 'AI think we'd better get back to the boat, de- clared Philip, 'Awe don't want to be caught over here. Look, the fog's coming in with the tide.'l

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hw' T I Oll,K.PL.. l 15 I dunno, replied Michael, 'ibut they haven't been here for a long time, anyway. Look at the garden! Maybe we can go in, Philip excitedly offered. I don't think we better, Valerie looked around anxiously. Oh, we told you not to come, Philip replied angrily. But Michael spoke reassuringly, I think it will be all right, we won't touch anything. How can we get in, anyway ? asked Peter. Try that window over there, said Philip, and I'll try this one. Michael ran to one of the Windows. 'iThis one is unlocked. Come on. I'm going in. VVhen they had climbed in, they found them- selves in a dusty living room Filled with many pictures, some on the walls, others on the floor leaning against the walls.- Gosh, look at these pictures, they look different from the ones in my house, declared Valerie. f'Yes,,' agreed Philip, they look as though someone painted themf' Look at that one over thereg it looks like the beach, doesn't it ? Peter pointed to a canvas in which the talent displayed could be recognized, even by the eyes of children. Yes, but look at these horses. Boy! They're great Vi said Michael, gazing longingly at a picture of two large chestnut horses, the background of which was undoubtedly the farm they had in- tended to explore. They were all busy looking at pictures when suddenly Valerie exclaimed, almost reverently, Isn't she beautiful ! f'VVhat? said Michael, joining Valerie. Oh, come here, fellas 3 Philip and Peter went over and gazed down on the picture that Valerie was holding. She is rather pretty, isn't she F declared even the practical Philip. I wonder who she is. Peter voiced the ques- tion of all the children. I don't know, said Valerie, but she is very beautiful, isn't she? I wish I had those lovely blue eyes. She seems to be looking right at us, doesn't she? She is standing in front of the rock where the undertow is. Out on Park Drive, a short distance from town, a party was being held at the Country Club. Many cars were parked in front and couples could be seen dancing to the soft music of a well-known orchestra. At a table in one corner of the beauti- fully decorated room sat Sheldon Churchill, a tall, intelligent-looking young man of about twenty- seven years of age. He was idly watching the dancers as they gracefully glided past him. It was apparent by his abstracted manner that he was not enjoying himself. As the couples took their seats, Sheldon arose and crossing the room disappeared through the French windows which led to the garden. At a nearby table, John Knight, the elderly business man of distinguished bearing, was talking with some friends. Glancing up, he saw Sheldon leaving the room. He excused himself, saying, UI am going out to get some fresh airg I'll be back presently. As he stepped onto the lawn, he saw Sheldon slowly walking down the gravel path which led to the river. He followed behind but not closely enough to make it appear obvious that he was shadowing him. Sheldon stopped, lit a cigarette, and continued on down the path to the side of the river, where there were a ,few benches. Coming to one of these, he slowly sat down and laid his head in his hands. The fog was drifting up the river and in the distance could be heard the fog horns warning the ships at sea. Sheldon shivered and sat up, gazing out on the river. What was that queer feeling he seemed to have as he gazed into the fog? Did he hear someone calling him P-It couldn't be she, it couldn't be! Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and quickly turning saw john Knight standing, looking at him with a questioning gaze. Mr. Knight was an old friend of Sheldon's father and when Mr. Churchill had died he had promised to keep his eye on his son. As Sheldon looked up, he smiled and said, Oh, hello, Mr. Knight, I didnit know you were here.

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I hate to leave this place, said Valerie, regret- fully. 'Alt is so homey and I would like to have more time to look around. Peter got up from the door where he had been looking at some more pictures and said, Mother may be worrying about meg we better go home. HSure, said Michael, we can come again and someone may be here next time we come. As the boys raced back to the little boat, laugh- ing and shouting happily, they turned around to get a last glimpse of the little white cottage, but little Valerie, thoughts filled with the portrait she had admired, glanced at the rock where the out- going river and incoming tide were just beginning to struggle. Was that a wisp of fog or- THE PEONY BUSH CAROLYN SIMPSON, '38 In 1785, Amasa Buck and his wife, jennifer, decided that Somer, Connecticut, was getting much too thickly settled. A traveler coming down from New Hampshire told of huge tracts of land that the state would give to anyone who would agree to clear the land and establish a homestead. The young couple felt that this move would be well worth the journey. jennifer was willing to make the changeg how- ever, she did insist on a year's time to make the necessary preparations for the long trip. Amasa told his wife that most of their furniture would have to be sold, yet there were treasures with which Jennifer refused to part. One of the treas- ures was a beautiful mirror, framed in mahogany, with oak leaves and acorns carved upon the top of the frame. Another was a secretary desk made of walnut, satin smooth. There was also the work of her own hands, for she was capable and thrifty. Besides her linen sheets and slips, she had spun and woven linen blankets in blue and white. Her feather-beds were marvels of lightness. When she counted her quilts, she found there were thirty, quilted with tiny stitches. A All that summer of 1786, jennifer, with the aid of the three older children, worked hard. There were not only heavy stockings to knit, but also double mittens and scarfs to keep their hands and ears warm. It seemed as though there was no end to the tasks. One day, as jennifer stood in the doorway, she looked down upon a peony bush beside the stone step. lt was in full bloom, with large scarlet blos- soms. It seemed to her that she couldn't leave that either. She resolved not to tell Amasa, but when the time came to start, the root of the peony should travel with them to their new home. It was finally decided to travel by ox-sled. The trail through Massachusetts and the long journey from there to New Hampshire was easier in winter because of logging operations. The lumbermen kept roads open for their own use. Consequently, these roads were used by travelers as well. After the first snowfall in November, the Buck family was ready to start for their new home. The sled was low, but sturdily made, drawn by two bridle oxen. jennifer had packed her beloved mirror in an extra feather-bed. Some of the rugs she had made were wrapped around the desk. The root of the peony was safely packed in the basket with her yarns. After Amasa had taken a last look around, he came out of the cellar rolling an immense pork barrel. There was some discussion as to where it should ride on the load, but jennifer soon solved this problem by wrapping herself and the tiny baby in blankets and sitting upon the top of the barrel. The other three children found places to ride on the load, while jennifer sat high enough to keep an eye on them all. After they had left the settlements, the nights were dreaded. Wolves were plentiful, and fires must be' kept burning all around the sled and its load. The oxen were afraid 5 therefore, they didn't rest as they should, and for this reason progress was very slow. Three or four times during the long trip Amasa said that the pork barrel must be thrown away to make the load lighter, but jenni- fer argued against it. She liked her high seat. Besides, it made a splendid wind-break when they camped at night. They were going to need it, also, when they were settled and started raising stock. So the old pork barrel rode the whole way from Connecticut to New Hampshire. Five generations of Bucks have used the barrel, and now it stands in the cellar of a great-great-grandson of Amasa.