1902

Ducky Drake writes from Florida that Cyril Smith's new address is Elizabeth Carleton House, 2055 Columbus Ave., Roxbury, Mass. 02119. We're sure that Cyril would like to hear from all of you.

Speaking about Ducky, we were looking through the January-February issue of THE ORANGE DISK, the Gulf Magazine sent to officers and stockholders, and learned that "in 1931, W. L. Mellon became Chairman of the Board of Directors and J. F. Drake succeeded him as President. In 1948 sales passed the billion dollar level for the first time. Sidney A. Swensrud became Gulf's fifth president, with J. F. Drake was named Chairman of the Board." It's quite a tribute to a country boy from Pittsfield, N. H.

A recent article about me in the "Valley News" had the interviewer asking me as to what reason I could give for my longevity. I told Gary Ebbels that I neither smoked nor wank and I have been kidded about the drink prescribed for me by my Dr. John Milne '37 and now I think that I should tell you about the smoking experience.

It was in the summer of 1886, I was living with my grandparents on Walker Hill in Littleton, N. H. My father was in the state legislature from Danvers, Mass., and my mother was head of the nursing school at the Danvers State Hospital. They were having their vacation. There on Walker Hill, the haying had been completed; the vegetable garden except for the root crops had stopped producing; our cow had gone dry, so my grandparents felt they could attend a family get-together in Winthrop, Me.

We went to Boston on the train—the old White Mountain Division—via Woodsville, Plymouth, and Concord. Prince, my dog, rode in the baggage car. It was the first train trip for both of us. There we were met by my parents who took us to the boat and it was my first view of the ocean. We went by boat to Augusta, Me. It was, in general, a pleasant and peaceful trip on the ocean and up the Kennebec River. There my paternal grandparents met us—he was Capt. Henry, now resting beside his beloved Mary Whittier (sister of John Greenleaf) in the graveyard in Winthrop. On the boat trip I noticed that my father had a lovely box of cigars, given to him by a constituent, and I admired the way he twirled the cigar and blew great clouds of smoke for -the benefit of his friends and family.

August 31, 1886 was a hot, sultry day, I had climbed the rafters of the barn, jumped into hay mows, found nests of eggs that the hens had "stolen." Hot, dusty and dirty, I learned that there was to be a family picnic on the shores of Lake Maranacook. I wish I could describe in detail the ladies wading shyly with dresses pulled up to the knee and the men, using trapdoor underwear as swimsuits, still with the derby hats on their heads. It was a lovely time; the food was excellent, the lemonade real refreshing for the ladies and the youngsters, and some of my grandfather's cider at celler cool temperature apparently delighted the oldermen

It gave me a chance to take one of those beautiful cigars from my father's breast pocket, find some matches and with one of these cigars I was going to be six feet tall. I wandered out to a convenient secret spot not far from the outhouse, lit a match, puffed of the cigar, coughed, blew out clouds of smoke, coughed, tried again and lord—was I sick! I reeled into the house. My parents suspected what had happened from the aroma. I was carried upstairs. The bed shook, the earth rumbled. Prince, my dog, cringed beside my bed. It seemed as a train had roared across the pasture. I woke up in the morning. It was late, because my father had gone to Winthrop for the Boston Globe, which told us of the Charleston, S. C., earthquake. I have never smoked since.

Edward R. Snow refers to the Charleston, S. C., earthquake on page 15 of the Boston Herald of February 15. I know how those poor people in California felt with their recent disastrous quake.

Secretary, Hanover Convalescent Home, Lyme Road, Hanover, N. H. 03755

Class Agent, 6 Pasture Lane, Darien, Conn. 06820