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

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25 THE CLIFTONIAN much on the water front that you could call beautiful unless you understand the life that a sailor lives. It is nearly time to eat and I feel as though I could eat the whole state of Brazil. It is seven o’clock and I wisih you .“Beunas Noches.” EDGAR HILLYER THE PYNCHEON HOUSE Half way down a by street in one of our New England towns, Stands a rusty wooden house with several gables broken down. The Street is called Pyncheon street, and Pyncheon is the house, And people who pass this edifice say it’s quiet as a mouse. Now Pyncheon street, you understand, was one time called Maule’s lane, And Matthew Maule who owned it would have never changed its name. But he was accused of witchcraft and very soon after his death, A beautiful and spacious mansion was erected by the Colonel’s request. On every side the gables pointed sharply toward the sky, The many lattices admitted light to halls and rooms nearby. The entrance which was large and had the breadth of a church door. Was a space between two gables that gave room for plenty more. But it would take too much paper to explain it all to you, So the best thing to do is to read the book until you’re through. And I’m sure you’ll like the story as it’s good from beginning to end, And it is all told clearly and its thrills I recommend. Thus ends my little story of the famous Pyncheon home, With good wishes for future reading, I sign myself the “Drone.” M. LANNON Mr. Spencer—Can you give me an example of wasted energy? C. Goodman—Yes sir, telling a hair raising story to a bald headed man. OUR AUSTIN Cars may come and cars may go, But the funniest one, I’d have you know, Regardless of color and fame it’s to win, Is our Austin, yes, our Austin. At evening when we all retire, We lock the doors and fix the fires; We bring our Austin into the 'house, Why, iit takes less room than an ordinary mouse. When we have company, then you see, And all our spare beds are not free, A better bed, you never would find, Than our Austin—it is so refined. O, she excels all cars in the things she can do, The salesman said, “the most economical car” he knew, So before you get stuck with a hunk of tin, Come over to my house and see our Austin. MARY TOMLINSON, Eng. I MY INGERSOLL My Ingersoll—She keep good time, I wind her every nite at nine, And when I lay me down to sleep, My Ingersoll—she go teek-teek. I run her through the thick and thin, By gol—she been through everythin’ But when I want to know the time, She point it out—that clock of mine' No wonder that I love my clock, Her grinning face the time does mock. So if I stay out late tonight, I know she’ll wake me up all right. L. B. MARK Wife—How do you like the potato salad? Husband—It’s delicious. Did you buy it yourself? Mr. McCumber—When I drop my hand, start marching on your left foot. Parker—I can’t march very far on my left foot.

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24 THE CLIFTONIAN SANTOS, SOUTH AMERICA My story begins on the S. S. Southern Cross, a steamship of the Munson South American line. It is 4 P. M. on April 18, 1931. We are twenty-one hours out of Rio and will arrive in Santos within two hours. We are now nearing the coast. Everybody is coming out on the decks to get their first glimpse of the biggest and most wonderful coffee port in the world. Now we have our first glance at what we can call land. It is a large mass of rock covered with the dark spongy green moss of the tropic regions. Our next view of land is the mouth of the harbor. We are probably about twenty miles from land and it will be another hour before we reach the harbor. The wind is in the south and it is sending just a small faint ripple across the top of the water. The ripple gushes against the bow of the boat with a soft melancholy sound. The sun is beginning to sink below the horizon. It is the time when these people take out their guitars and begin to get Spanish and romantic. The sun is directly at our backs and it is laying a magnificent crimson red coat shaded with a rich gold across the top of the water. We are beginning to distinguish objects more readily now and I think that I will begin to explain them more thoroughly. The first thing that I noticed was the tall polmaceae, better known to us as palm trees. The palmetto of this tropical region is a diminutive representative of the group. The body consists of a tall, unbranched, columnar trunk bearing at its summit a crown of immense leaves, palmately veined and often split so as to appear compound. The flower clusters arise from the leafy crown and are usually very large and pendent. The palms are not only ornamental but very useful in many ways. The most prized ornamental specie is the royal palm. They range from three to one hundred feet in height and seem to cluster the hills that surround the mouth of the harbor. We are now through the harbor and probably the next thing that would take one’s eye is the coffee groves. Santos is one of the most noted coffee ports of the world. I have told you of the palms and now I will tell you something of the splendor of the coffee plantations. In a wild state the coffee is a slender tree from fifteen to thirty feet in height. But when grown in the plantations, it is not allowed to exceed ten feet in height. The fruit is a dark scarlet when ripe, with two cells, having one seed each. The leaves are evergreen, and the flowers white. Now, is the city for we have taken on our pilot and it will be only a matter of a half hour before we are tied up at our dock. Generally speaking, it is much the same as entering one of our own home ports with the exception of the huge skyscrapers. It is set in a valley between hills of sandy cliffs on one side and those covered with the rich green moss and grass of the tropical regions on the other. The hills are all covered with the beautiful palm trees that are now in full blossom. We are now being tied up to the dock and you can see the stevedores on the dock working with all their might to get the coffee into shape to put on our ship as soon as it is securely tied up. It is 5:30 now and I will take you with me to the Merchant Marine hotel which is over to the pier on the other side of the harbor. The civic center of the city is mucn the same as it is in our own home cities. There is not much to say about the buildings as we see them from the outside because they look much the same as our own. The houses of the city are made mostly of stone. It is the custom of the Spanish and the Portugese to have everything decorated in the bright colors that most attract the human eye. Most of the houses are of the Spanish type with bright colored roofs. The grounds are constituted of beautiful soft green lawns decorated with various beautiful flowers of strange origin. The lawns and houses are shaded by the royal palms that I have mentioned before. Now we will have to leave, for we are coming back to the water front and there is not very

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26 THE CLIFTONIAN SPRING As I look out the window, I see a green tree top, The little cooling breezes blow, And the weather is tip-top. The sun is shining brightly, The world is all a smile, Children are skipping lightly, The clothes are a new style. Old people are out walking; Youth is having its fling, All are loudly talking Yes sir, you’re right, it’s Spring. A. MACOMBER MODERN MUSIC There are many people who will immediately protest that this terrible noise heard over the radio does not even closely resemble music. They add that the unearthly wail of the saxophone, the shrill shriek of the trumpet, and the too-prominent beats of the drums sound like some cannibal festival rather than like an orchestra of a civilized (this statement is still being contested) age. Like most of the younger generation, I can’t imagine dancing to such pieces as “Sweet and Low,” “Turkey in the Straw” and others. The snappy, modern tunes are the type which cheer you when you are blue, and make you forget that your feet hurt. I confess that most of the words sound alike, but if you consider only the music value, I think that hardly anyone will say that the compositions are different from those of an earlier period. That is, of course, considering that the style and tempo has changed slightly. But the tunes are just as sweet and melodious as those which our parents sang as they gathered ’round the family organ. Just as lovely waltzes are being produced now as ever before. The fox-trots offer pleasing con trast to prevent a program from becoming monotonous. Beautiful renditions of popular songs are presented by the better orchestras, and the bands seem to be realizing the advantage of playing slow and dreamy numbers. We are getting away from the mechanical sounding style which prevailed recently. Rudy Vallee has done a great deal toward reinstating soft music. His programs consist largely of waltzes or slow fox-trots, interspersed with a few compositions of a livelier vein. It is time for the critical older generation to wake up to the fact that modern music is really music, if it is rendered by a good orchestra which interprets it as it was intended to be by the composer. The trouble is that they think it’s bad, and they won’t even give it a hearing. But the younger people are more numerous than old and therefore, “on with the dance.” HELEN WHEDON. HITS OF THE DAY “Pardon Me, Pretty Baby”—Louie to Mary. “One More Time”—Sammy’s asleep. “Whistling in the Dark”—Bob Goodman. “Toodle-oo! So Long! Good-Bye”— Miss Williams. “Think a Little Kindly of Me”—Miss Judd. “Got the Bench, Got the Park”— Harold deGraw. Two Little Blue Little Eyes”—Hugh Mosher. FAMOUS LAST WORDS The following report after school. Throw your gum in the basket. Bring back report cards. Return those locker keys. Paper not acceptable—rewrite. Make up your work. Report to the office. Library books must be returned. The right way to start the day, was illustrated by a question on an English Grammar Regents Paper, which was— “Following his breakfast, he went to his office.”