Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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G THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION nearing each other; one driven by na- ture’s force, tlie other by man’s inven- tion. The larger is a liner, the smal- ler, a freighter of an obsolete type. Suddenly, a deafening crash is fol- lowed by screams from the liner, and curses from the freighter. Pandemon- ium reigns. The huge liner has rammed the “square rigger” amidships and has backed off leaving her to her fate. For three minutes she flounders, and then plunges with her mighty expanse of canvas below the cruel sea carrying hu- man life with her. The director claps his hands and calls for more. Gloriously, before she sinks, the “Barque” tights to remain afloat as she tips 1 on her side half submerging her yards and sails, finally sinking stern first. Clinging to debris in the gray water, men curse, pray, groan, and yell for mercy and deliverance from that accursed grave. God, life is good. Men who have almost forgot- ten their mother’s prayers call on God for help. Someone swears ' . How ter- rible the curse sounds now. How piti- ful, when sailors, the world’s hardest, weep and pray to the God they have cursed. One calls for a knife. He has lost his fight. Three hours have passed when day- light breaks, cold and gray, revealing five floating bodies, stiff and stark, the toil of the sea to add to that mammouth grave. Five lone heads now bob on the water. Close by are two more who neither see, hear, nor speak. The five see, far off in the distance, one tall mast, fast fading from sight, taking with it the only hope for five men. Again, in unison ; they call on their Maker for mercy; but, no, the ship fades farther, and farther away, until but a mere speck is visible on the hor- izon. With uplifted empty eyes they give up hope and resign themselves to their fate. The director is neglectful, for no sharks appear on the scene; or would it have been merciful? Numbness overtakes them and they are comfortable, in that semi-uncon- sciousness that precedes death. A wave washes over the five lone prospects for death; grim, black death and another passes on, leaving but four. And so in this manner four souls give up the mental fight for life on a boundless ocean. The director, however, grows weary. G. W. R., ’26. SCENES IN WINTER The City The grayish colored snow is banked against the dark, brick buildings, and the icy blasts send the people hurrying along the streets with their garments wrapped tightly about them. The few short hours of the sunlight have melted the snow, but soon Jack Frost creeps out and freezes the water. The ice is nut silver and clean as a lake but dirty and muddy from the heavy traffic that continually passes over it. The stores are brilliantly lighted and decorated with Christmas trees and green and red ribbons. Everyone is hurrying. Nobody minds if he is jostled, because everyone is happy with Christmas near. The Country The scene is entirely different here. The sleigh glides swiftly over the snow nacked roads and by white fields, past a red farmhouse sheltered by the wooded hills. The house looks warm and cosy though just above it the leaf- less branches of the trees are tossing in a cold wind. In the small village the little white church, the general store and the small cottages are all covered by the same white blanket. The people are going to and fro exchanging holiday greetings, for they too, know that Winter brings with it the anni- versary of the birth of the Christ child. The Sea Coast The waves dash high on the wintry coast. The lighthouse stands out cold and dark against the laden sky. There is a tang of the sea in the air. The old fishermen no longer stand on the wharf telling tales of the sea but hobble toward the general store to sit around the fire and tell their yarn familiar to every member of the vil-

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION O Dorothy Blevins. Editor AD INFINITUM EST There are some things which are of very little importance in the lifetime of a person but which use up a great deal of time. Long ago I came across a mystery, in which, the more I thought of it, the more deeply entangled I be- came. The thought at first was just a pleasure, but now I feel that if I could answer this problem I could an- swer many others. Have you ever noticed the picture on an oysterette box? There is a man seated on a box prying open oysters. Beside the box on which the man is seated, there is a box of oysterettes. Now on this box of oysterettes there is a picture of a man opening oysters, and beside him there is another box of oysterettes. On this box of oysterettes there is a picture of a man opening- oysters, and beside the box on which he is seated there is another box of oysterettes. In our senior algebra classes some of us have learned how to find the Limit of the sum of an Infinite Decreas- ing Geometrical Progression by using the formula s=(H-r — 1. In this case a equals the original box of oysterettes and r equals the difference between this box and the box beside the box on which the man is seated. 8 remains the un- known for some algebra wizard to solve. If the numerical answer is returned to me before I forget all the math I know, I will take a trip to the place where parallel lines meet and know what a quantity divided by zero equals. A DESCRIPTIVE ESSAY The hour is three; the setting, mid- Atlantic on a cold May morning; the director, the keeper of Hades, Satan. j The deep black sea is gently tossing its foamed tipped billows beneath a moon, which, now and then, slips be- hind a dull black cloud casting grue- some shadows over the water. All is still as death on this mammouth grave, the silence being broken only by the creak of a pulley, or the swish of a wave. Unaware of the other’s pres- ence, each of two toilers of the sea are

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION luge. The yule tide lias brought many schooners into the harbor because the men have come home to he with their families and friends on the best day of all the year. — Anita Andres, ' 28. A CHRISTMAS EVE IN OLD ENGLAND Christmas Eve! Snow covers t lie ground, and there is 1 no sign of its ceasing. Everyone is hustling to and fro with mysterious bundles. The whole aspect is so Christmasy, that it makes everyone tingle with excitement. It is dusk, and as we make our way around the old streets of the English town, we have a strange feeling. Now we pause before a stately house, which has lost some of its dignified ap- pearance. As we stand outside, we look in and see the happy family gath- ered around the table in the large hall. But there seems to be an extra place. This is set in memory of the Christ Child. The place is heaped with all sorts of good things, and set with the best silver. We are told that any beg- gar can partake of this bountiful feast. As the family finishes their repast, we follow them to the great hall. There, some servants are placing the Yule log on the fireplace, and someone is pre- paring to light it. We are told that a log of this sort is to be seen in every fireplace on Christmas Eve, and that it is so huge, it. burns for twenty-four hours. Now the family turns to the tree which glows with the light of its can- dles. The presents are distributed, and after everyone exclaims over his gifts, their minds are turned to other amusements. The children are allowed to stay up, and everyone joins in giv- ing them a good time. What is that? It is the waits sing- ing their carols. We learn that the custom of carol singing began with the waits. The poor minstrels of the towns and cities assemble to sing their carols each Christmas Eve. The people in return give gifts of money and food. The excitement is all over for the present. It is nearing midnight, and as the big town clock strikes the hour, the great house settles down to quiet- ness and darkness, until the early morning ushers in the dawn of Christ- mas with all its joys. I . O., ' 28. ON A RAINY DAY To me a rainy day, such as Sunday, October twenty-fifth, is quite fascinat- ing. One can hear so many more dif- ferent sounds than on a sunny day. As I sit at my desk studying, the pitter-patter of the rain against the window is very restful. The wind is howling around the north side of my house, and I can imagine Mr. North- Wind, a flowing grey cloak wrapped around him, his limbs gnarled, and an expression of determination on his face as he tears through the trees and hurls the leaves from the branches, leaving the hills bare, as an old worn pine floor, instead of the gorgeous Per- sian rug which they once represented. The rain drops tapping on the window sills sound as though they might be a fairy musician’s metronome. It seems miraculous to think that the rain comes so many thousand miles from the sky down to earth to give us vegetation here. I have often wondered why it is that sometimes the rain falls heavily and then in a few moments lightly again. A rainy day certainly has its charms as well as its dreariness. A THANKFUL CHRISTMAS Let us he merry, rejoicing in the glad tidings of great joy and the many bles- sings bestowed on us. The school board lias done away with Mid years with one bold stroke, thus eliminating t lie Waterloo of many. The new lunch room, completed at last, has proved a great success, and the cookery, for luring our hungry eyes, is excellent. We are now, in the first days of December, rewarded with fifteen min- utes more of sleep for which reason we should imagine that some one appre- ciates us after all. We have won the football and track championships and who could ask for more?