Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION 9 Charleston. They all were dressed in the latest style, even though their fur coat was being paid for on the install- ment plan. Evidently a number of the colleges had just dismissed the students for Christmas vacation, because a number of the collegiate boys and girls were greeting fond parents, who probably had spent several hours and a great deal of labor in preparing for their chi ldren’s home coming, only to have them get a few of their meals ' and sleep under their roof during the social whirl of Christmas vacation. The stu- dents certainly seemed enthusiastic and acted as though they were getting all the enjoyment possible out of life. I heard the weird, shrill cry of the train whistle and wondered where it was going and what joy or sorrow it was bringing to those on board. What a joy it is to have a smiling face at the door to greet one and a happy home in which one can get the best things of life. Lucia Woodworth, ’ 27 . THE WHITE HILLS IN WINTER The twelfth of October, just after a very severe and early snow storm, with a friend T climbed Mount Moosilaukee in the White Mountains. The woods through which we passed were trans- formed into a wonderland of snow and ice by the blizzard which had raged all the preceding day and night. A rather unusual condition existed in the woods at the base of the moun- tain, where the hardwoods grow; over the blanket of snow was a carpet of dry, brilliantly colored leaves, two or three inches thick, which had been spread by the wind during Hie storm. It was a peculiar sensation to walk along through this mealy mixture of dry snow and leaves. The Beaver Brook Cascades, beside which the trail ascends steeply for over a mile, were unusually beautiful in their setting of snow and ice. Their beauty was greatly magnified when the sun burst through the fleeting clouds, and formed dozens of tiny rainbows on the masses of ice, as it shone through the fine spray blow;n down from the hundreds of waterfalls above. Near the top of a minor ridge the woods of primeval spruce, arrayed in their wintry splendor, formed unbroken canopies over our heads. The vistas reminded us of passages through some great marble cathedral where dark col- umns, supporting rich tapestries tow- ered high overhead. This winter was not confined to our immediate surroundings; for, when we reached the “fountain,” where the water shoots some six or eight feet up into the air, a marvelous panorama of more than a score of snow covered 1 teaks presented itself before us. One thousand feet below, in the very bot- tom of Kinsman Notch nestled the res- ervation buildings and the famous gorge of Lost River, from which we had made our start up the mighty Moosi- laukee. Sweeping off to the right was the broadening valley of Moosilaukee Brook. From the other side of the Notch, thyir summits towering high above us, rose the ice capped peaks of Mounts Waternomee, Jim, and Blue. Further climbing through trees heav- ily laden with snow and ice brought us to a point from which we obtained enthralling views of the Franconia peaks. Their sharp summits, robed in purest white, formed a marked con- trast to the dark wooded area of Wolf Mountain and Kinsman Ridge at their base. The sun was shining directly upon them making us think of glorious pictures we had seen of the Swiss Alps. Finally we reached the top, exhausted in body, but recreated in soul. Moun- tains, mountains everywhere, all capped in pure white. From the bar- ren summit we got beautiful views of the Franeonias and the peaks beyond, similar but grander than those from below. Behind the stately Liberty, in the clear blue sky, towered the great white cone of Mount Washington, the mightiest of all. White, everything was white, even the old tip top house, in which we were to spend the night, had a layer of dead white frost feathers, six to eight inches thick over its weather-beaten walls.

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8 THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION We are honored each week by our Seniors who, by their remarkable ora- ting, help us greatly by reminding us of our inferior position in relation to their exalted one. Lucia Woodworth, ’28. NOEL EN FRANCE Nous allons faire un petit voyage a Paris pour y passer les fetes de Noel et du jour de l’an. Que c’est interes- sant de se promener sur les grands boulevards ! 11 y a beaueoup de monde qui font les cent pas tout en regardant les arbres de Noel et tout ce qu ' il faut pour les deeorer. Tout le long des trottoirs il y a des baraques qu’on me construit qu’a cette epoque-la de l’an- nee. On y voit toutes sortes de hoses; des marrons glaces, des jouets auto- matiques, de la bijouterie et mille autres objets. Mais il ne faut pas passer tout notre temps sur les grands boulevards. Nous devons visiter quelques-unes des belles eglises pour voir les creches du petit Jesus. Pres de lui se trouvent sa mere et Saint Joseph. Quelquefois meme, il y a les mages venus de loin pour adorer le Sauveur et lui offrir des pre- sents. Puisque nous sommes a Paris, il faut faire comme les Parisiens, c’est-a-dire il faut assister a la messe de minuit. Nous patrons de bonne heure car tout le monde y va en foule, et nous desir- ous etre bien places. Oh ! la belle mus- ique que nous y entendons! Apres la messe nous entrons dans un cafe quelconque sur les boulevards, car c’est la qu’on fait reveillon. Qu’est-ce que c’est que le reveillon? C’est le repas qu’on fait la unit de Noel et qui est l’accompagnement indispensable de la messe de minuit. Ce repas se prolonge au milieu de rejouissances variees. Mais a vrai dire, Noel est sur tout la fete des enfants en meme temps quo fete religieuse. Les enfants laissent leurs sabots on leurs souliers dans la eheminee, ou bien ils pendent leurs cliausettes esperant que le Petit Noel descendra les remplir. Le jour de Pan en France est le grand jour des visites. C’est aussi le jour ou on se fait des cadeaux plutot qu’a Noel. On va chez ses amis les plus eliers pour leur apporter ses meil- leurs sou h aits de nouvelle annee en meme temps qu’une etrenne quescon- que. Pit voila les fetes finies, et mainten- ant il faut retourner dans notre pays tout en gardant un bon souvenir de la belle France. Louise Bradley, ’2G. Mabel Carlton, ’26. HOMING I have often wondered when the eve- ning has come, and the streets are full of people headed homeward, where and what their destination will be. One day, near Christmas, when I was in Boston about five in the afternoon, I observed the crowds of people and tried to imagine what welcome home they would re ceive. There was the poor frail struggling woman. She probably had been work- ing in a store as a clerk ; standing on her feet all day, and she was now going home to prepare the evening meal for a large family. The expression on her face seemed to say that she didn’t get much enjoyment out of life. The win- try blasts were blowing, and the poor woman wrapped her thread-bare coat around her and hustled through the crowd. The pompous banker was swinging along with an air of importance, his cane on his arm, and spats neatly but- toned. He stepped into a taxi and was soon out of sight. I wondered where the street beggar who sold pencils in front of R. IL Stearns, lived. He had no legs, and his only method of transportation was by a small cart of iron, on which he was tied. He sped up Tremont Street, humping down one curb stone and up the next, soon to reach his destina- tion, probably in the slums of Boston. The gay young shop girls were amb- ling along, gazing at the gorgeous win- dow displays and telling their friends of the swell time they had last night, and what “swell music and good eats they had, and how well Jim did the

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION 10 Soon the afternoon waned and a glorious, ever-clianging sunset trans- formed the great white hills around us to pale red ones. The reddish hues soon became gray and in a few minutes everything faded into darkness, and bitter cold clouds gathered in around ns for the night. II. Davis, ’2(5. NAILS As I drag my weary feet homeward every day at one, if I ' m lucky, I some- times think, with a sigh of relief, and a startling disregard of the half-dozen books in my arms, that my cares are over for the day. lint as soon as I enter the front door my illusions are shattered in this manner: “What have you done to your stock- ing? It’s ripped! How did you do it? Why don’t you have the chair fixed? You mustn’t wear silk stockings to school again. What, you ' ve ripped the other one too !” “I can’t help it. I can ' t fix the chairs.” “Can ' t you complain? I)o other people ruin their stockings?” A foolish thing to fnss about, per- haps, but really, my father will become bankrupt soon. And I am not alone in this complaint — oh no! At almost any time one may hear the same cry, — “Oh ! I ripped my stocking on that darn chair !” Undignified language? Oh, possibly —but if you have had the experience you know how exasperating it is. Can’t something be done to the rough nails in many of the chairs in A. II. S.? WRITING EDITORIALS FOR THE CLARION IN THIRD PERIOD ENGLISH CLASS To quote Miss Sydnor — “Oh, woe!” If you could see the expressions on the faces about me you would repeat, “Oh, woe!” Evidently, Thanksgiving has left more heads than mine abso- lutely blank, empty, a vacuum! Doro- thea seems dazed. Dick is depressed. Harold is puzzled. Francis is deep, deep, in thought. Esther is going to weep in a moment ! Only Ruth is busy — her jaw working faster than her pen. I wish Margaret would stop biting her nails! Ah, Barbara has an inspira- tion ! That inspiration seems to have a good effect on the “girl in lavender,” behind her. She, too, has joined the meager ranks of the busy. Now, slowly but surely, things are beginning to hum — I mean, scratch. One by one the heads are bending over paper, and I believe Miss Treat shows a happier expression. She was wor- ried at first. We all could see that. Tt would have been a shame if we had left class with nary a theme for her brightening up a bit. I wish some- thing would happen. George has stopped writing and is beginning to think! Bad sign! There are only a few now who are still undecided as to what subject they will favor with their ideas and views. If only Francis would decide! The others do change their expressions — which shows that the wheels are turning a bit — but his expression hasn ' t changed for the last fifteen minutes! I’m getting nervous. I wish Miss Treat would say some- thing! I’m sure lie ' s in a stupor. What is that! Ah-h-h ! He has moved! His hand is moving to the inkwell — he dips his pen — he writes — a. masterpiece is forthcoming! Ilis movement has affected the whole class. Dorothea is no longer dazed. There is an inspired look upon her face as she writes swiftly and surely. Dick is joyous. He must be writing a hymn in praise of The Clarion. Har- old is satisfied. Evidently he has thought of a new “slam” for Virginia. In this issue he will probably say she is talking like a Freshman, or some- thing equally as extinct. Oh, well — many things, including dignity and fin- ger nails, must be sacrificed for our Clarion. Again Tiie Clarion is vic- tor — and we have done our bit to make it so. A story was passed in by A. Law- rence Gaskill entitled “The Point,” but it needed a little sharpening so we put it on file.