Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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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.

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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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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION 11 WORDS Words are lakes Impulsive, mystical, Now gentle, now raging Enchanting in their many moods. Words are streams Rippling, laughing, M u rmu ring merrily Along mossy banks. Words are pools Placid, serene, Content to lie dreaming In idle tranquility. Words are seas Crashing and pounding In heavy surf Upon a rugged shore. — I). Blevins, ’26. IN WINTER Congealed vapor Slowly sifting, Making mounds And deeply drifting Blankets all the earth in white. Shimmering surface Crisply crackling, Ruthlessly The water shackling Hides the brooks and lakes from sight. Slurring sleds Steel skates ringing, Merry shouts Alumni The first of this year our Business Manager sent cards to all the members of the class of ' 25 asking them to sub- scribe to The Clarion. We were glad to receive very interesting and encour- aging letters from the following: Jane Gilmore, Smith College; Helen Stokes, De Pauw University; Edith Johnson, Mount Holyoke College; Warren Drouet. Exeter Academy; Claude Hig- gins, Earl Farmer, and Ethel Macmil- lan, at home. We thank you. And sharp air stinging — Winter is all youth’s delight. — Charles T. Atwood, ’26. TODAY AND TOMORROW What can I say of Mother? Mother, who understands, Mother, who works for me all day With weary, willing hands? What can I say of Mother? Sweet and brave and true, Mother, who trusts me all the time No matter what I do? Mother — she ' s my own Mother! If she should go away, Only then could I truly know What I should say today ! —Ruth Hopkins, ’26. WORDS With shadowings of green and gold And sprays of foaming blue The wavelets laugh and leap and dance On seas of sapphire hue. But coral caves and cities fair And forests lie below, And with their wondrous glory are The waves above aglow. Words are but light reflected from The hidden thought beneath, Whose mystery and purple depths No man may ever reach. — L. B., ’26. Louise Bradley, Poetry Editor. Notes Some of the former Arlington High School boys are prominent in athletics at Dartmouth College. Charles I. ( Sykes”) Hardy, ’21, a junior, played left tackle on flu varsity football team; A. Bob McPhail, another Exeter grad- uate, who now lives on Brooks Avenue, was first-string quarter back. Charlie Collins, ’22, is captain of the Cross Country team; Morrell Bott, ’22, is on the Freshman Cross Country squad, and Billy Andres, president of the