Clifton Springs High School - Cliftonian Yearbook (Clifton Springs, NY)

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THE CLIFTONIAN 15 The Fool (Channing Pollock) There are so many of us—every day, who in trying to follow in the footsteps of Christ—even in very trivial things— are laughed at, made fun of, and unfortunately we, then, under a supreme test are weak-willed. We find ourselves incompetent. We break under ridicule. Our faith is not strong enough to carry us through criticisms, which seems the least of impediments, and is the greatest. We show in those moments that we care more for people, for humans, for what they think of us, than for Christ. We show that we are not sincere in our pitiful attempts, now and then, for we always go back—back again to people—and sin—and a shortlived happiness. There are people—a few among the millions, who seem to be endowed with a stronger resistance against the lures of man than is the meager pittance of most of us. One such man was Daniel Gilchrist. His chosen profession, the one which called, was that of preaching the Gospel. But under the scorn, the heat of his truthful, penetrating words, the careless rich of New York cast him from their would-be sanctuary. They could not face the unveiled facts; they could not face their mistakes, their blind lives, and accept them as they really were. From the magnificent cathedral where none but the earthly, worldly rich might enter, Daniel Gilchrist, almost thankfully, slipped into the fruitful, though difficult, task of bringing “His word” to the poor; of spreading himself, cheer and comfort; of spending every possession, both physical and monetary, to enable open-minded people to be saved from themselves and see the making—undertake the making— of more disciples. “Fool!” was the charge against him— lunatic! He spends every atom—his all —he goes through everything;—but if he didn’t purchase quite enough for his physical needs, his soul was fed— through the sight of awakening on the part of dozens upon dozens of people who otherwise, coming from the slums as they did, might have spread over much of the world, crime and unhappiness—sorrow unbounded through blindness. So Daniel Gilchrist defied the cry of “Fool” and, in the end, he conquered all as would any person, who, for a good cause, ignores the cry of the multitude. ALICE E. WIEMER ’30. The Promised Land (Mary Antin) Mary Antin was born, lived and was born over again. This is a story dealing with just these three facts. The book is a story of her life, and is written in the third person for the first two stages, and first person for the last. Mary Antin was a Jewess, born in Russia at the time of the persecution of the Jews. She tells us in a quiet manner, yet making you hold your breath, about the different and horrible ordeals of the Jews. The slaughtering of their children, and the torturing of their bodies, makes us sympathize with the race of Mary Antin. The book tells about her early life in Russia, the many handicaps under which she worked, and last, but not least, her trip to America —“The Promised Land.” Here she and her family found happiness and contentment, and here Mary was reborn. She realized that the Lord had made one place on earth where the Jews were welcome and not persecuted. After learning the English language and go--ing to school, she found her vocation in life, which was in God’s out-of-doors— Natural History. I liked the book very much, probably because of its simplicity. It was easy to read and understand. It seemed to me as if it were more of a fiction book than a biography. ELVA G. LANNON ’29 Miss Howard — What is the spinal cord? Verna Stubbs—That’s beyond me. I don’t take music.

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14 THE CLIFTONIAN Boys’ Basketball The boys’ basketball team was organized in the latter part of October with Mr. William Spencer acting as coach. Herman Mark was elected captain by tne unanimous vote of the team. The squad consisted of the following players: Herman Mark, Elwyn Richardson, Clifton Bloodgood, Edward Walters, Ashley Macumber, Winfred Lan-non and Eugene Smith. Though the team d.d not have a very successful season, they nevertheless played some very good games. The schedule follows: c. s. H. S.... ...16 Shortsville .19 c. s. H. S.. . . ...12 Phelps .25 c. s. H. S.... .. .15 Manchester ... .18 c. s. H. S.... .... 17 Alumni .32 c. s. H. S.... .. .12 Victor .42 c. s. H. S.... .. .28 E. Bloomfield .. .19 c. s. H. S.... ...26 Shortsville .25 c. s. H. S.... ...23 Phelps .30 c. s. H. S.... ... 46 Waterloo Cubs. , .10 c. s. H. S.... ...22 Victor .22 c. s. H. S.... ....18 E. Bloomfield .. . .17 c. s. H. S.... ....22 Manchester ... .25 Totals 257 284 Glorious Adventure (Richard Halliburton) This is a vividly and enthusiastically-told account of a modern “Odessey.” Halliburton, at the age of twenty-seven, made a most remarkable and thrilling journey over the trail of Ulysses, with Homer as his guide. The young author’s enthusiasm reigns throughout the book. There is a great deal of humor which is certainly not needed to make this story interesting, as it is in some travel books, for, being written by a young and enthusiastic author like Halliburton, it could never be anything but a vitally interesting narration. There are frequent vivid and picturesque descriptions which keep the reader spellbound. There are thrilling adventures—indeed the whole book is a “Glorious Adventure.” The parallels drawn between Halli- burton's journey and that of Ulysses are striking and interesting. I enjoyed very much the description cf the night spent on Mount Olympus, the amusing oracular prophesies at Delphi, the description of the Parthenon at night, and the delightful conversation at the “Porch of the Maidens.” The modern repetition of the Marathon race is, perhaps, the most humorous part. The pilgrimage to Rupert Brooke’s grave is told very impressively. Halli burton’s version of the story of the two lovers, Leander and Hero, and the description of his swim across the Helle-sponte are most interesting. The same is true of the descriptions of Troy, the entrancing Lotus Land, which lured Ulysses and his men, the treacherously beautiful caverns of the Siren Isles, and the climbing of the great and famous Mount .®tna. As this journey is a ’modern “Odessey,” Halliburton fittingly closes his impetuous and glamourous story by telling the conclusion of Homer’s epic; the modern Ulysses tells of his guide, the ancient Ulysses, as each reaches the end of his adventure. I enjoyed this very much. Not only was the ancient history told interestingly, but also the author voiced his feelings and his great enthusiasm in such a way that my interest was held throughout the story, and my admiration was aroused for the young and adventuresome author. ALICE T. COST ’30. Heard in the Library (two Sophomores conversing): First—On this list of supplementary books for Latin II it says, “Last Days of Pompeii.” Who was he? Second—I’m not sure. First—What did he die of? Second—I think it was some kind of an eruption. Joe Nairy once remarked that he’d like to be a seal. When asked why, he retorted: “A seal has a flapper on each side of him.”

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16 Red Light (By Alice R. Miller, English I) Dr. Fuller, who had been in practice for many years suggested that Louise, his niece, become a nurse. Her mother shuddered at the thought. College was the place for a girl of seventeen. Her father, however, was very much delighted at the idea and sent at once for information about the Baston Training School for nurses. Louise was happy. She was going to be a nurse; how much fun it would be to see operations and take care of nice people! She entered the training school in September. There would be three, long years of hard training before she could be a nurse, yet she was strong enough to stand it. Two years passed quickly; she had had a little of everything and was enjoying every moment of it. She was now on night duty; one floor to take care of, with twenty-four patients on the floor. It kept Louise pretty busy. At two o’clock one morning, a man who had been suffering great pain decided he could stand it no longer so took his razor from the table nearby and cut the veins in his wrist. Seeing the blood shoot forth, he feared death and again wished to live. He rang his bell, and Louise hurried to his room. She checked the bell and turned on the lights. The man’s bed was covered with blood, and he was dead. Louise turned the light out and locked the door, placing the key on her desk. She did not change a thing in his room because the coroner would have to come. Going on with her duties, she was kept busy until four o'clock. Louise walked down the hall —and the dead man’s red light went on! Quickly Louise ran to her desk in search of the key. It was lying just where she had placed it. What could it be? Could he have come to life again? There surely was enough blood on his bed to prove that he had bled to death. Louise shuddered at the thought of entering the room alone. She must be brave. “Oh, I can, I must,” she whispered. She heard a door THE CLIFTONIAN squeak. The cold chills went up her spine. Was it the dead man walking? It was absurd for her to think of such things. Louise called the night float (a nurse ready to do anything in case of accident). The two nurses, being afraid to enter, called the man’s private doctor, his assistant and the coroner. After hearing the story none would enter. Some one MUST. Louise unlocked the door. It was silly to be afraid of a dead person. He could not harm one. She entered the room, turned on the light, and glanced at the bed. Everything was just as she had left it. Why would the bell be on? She neared the bed and saw the bell in the man’s hand. He had clutched it as he died, and after the nurse turned out the light he had still held it. After death when the muscles contracted, the light again went on. So after all, a dead man really lit the red light. RESTITUTION These days are full— And though they speeding Pass us by— Each day with routine filled, When we look back, we feel How hectic—and we sigh. Sorrows and joys in quick succession Fill our lives;—we cannot see, We do not know that years beyond We shall look upon these As days most free. And ever and anon, we feel The years are richer growing With promises of other fields For our knowledge’s bestowing. Though days are sometimes sadly long And nights pass all too quickly, When we look back, we are surprised To see what progress strewed them thickly; And yet, they say “be constant”—; Look not back—but ahead. I think it gives us greater strength To see where other actions led! ALICE E. WIEMER ’30 Even for lazy people—Wrigley’s gum.