Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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14 Bennett Beacon A Night in Chipping Carnpden I-IIPPING CAMPDEN is a little town in Gloucestershire, not ,651 very far from Oxford. We had left Oxford late in the after' noon, wondering where to spend the night. When our chauffeur fwe luxuriated with the services of a chauffeur for two daysj A T ' suggested Chipping Campden, we knew from the very sound of the name, although we had never heard of it before, that it was the place we must stay. We liked it immediately. We saw just yellowish brown stone houses on each side of a wide road, with some odd structures in the middle of the road, and in the distance, a square tower. It is not an especially beautiful towng yet, perhaps because it looks so old, it has an unmistakable appeal. After dinner, when twilight was just beginning, we went out for a walk. It may be a commonplace observation, but I actually felt as though I had traveled back several hundred years into the past. I was walking past build' ings that have stood since the twelfth century. They are all close together, very plain, two or three stories high, and most of them have slanting roofs. There are no lawns-all the houses are close to the street-but through some low, dark passages we glimpscd charming flower gardens. The tower we had seen before attracted us, so we turned up that way. It proved to be part of the village church, St. Jamesf Built simply of the same stone as the rest of the town, this church gives the appearance of great age, and no wonder, for, as we learned in the morning, it was started in 1490. We walked through the graveyard surrounding the church. Some of the gravestones are quite recentg others have illegible inscriptions and are doubtless very old. I have a vivid memory of a row of yew trees there, and of the fragrance of yellow roses almost hidden in long grass. As we were leaving, the church chimes played The Bluebells of Scotland. Next to the church yard is a queer closedfup stone gateway with only a Held behind it. We were entirely unable to decide what it was. The next day we found out that it had been the entrance to some nobleman's fine house, which was burned down to prevent Cromwell from gaining possession of it. It was growing dark as we went down to the main street again. Some of the houses we passed are so close to the sidewalk that we had the boldness to look inside. We saw very little, however. I suppose most of the people had gone to bed, though we saw a few reading-some with candles or oil lamps, and some with electric lights. Window shades as we know them seem to be unknown thereg something more attractive takes their place. Heavy curtains in pretty, dark colors are drawn over the windows.

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Bennett Beacon I3 OVERNIGHT HIKING DELUXE To the average individual, the thought of overnight hiking produces a feeling of horror, and in some cases abject terror. To the inexperienced, the term overnight hike is synonymous with a dearth of comforts, food richly flavored with Mother Earth, and visions of attack by Reynard the Fox and Br'er Rabbit. However, after years of research and experience, after close scrutiny into the intricate details of overnight hiking, the experienced camper has arrived at the following interesting conclusions. Overnight hiking may be considered a disease wherein there are three stages. The verdant little camper sets forth on her nocturnal voyage, clad in gaily colored cretonne overalls. Upon her back is slung a duifle bag so filled with divers blankets, cups, and what not, that one really has difficulty in distinguishing between knapsack and hiker. The cumbersome proportions of this appendage greatly facilitate the crossing of' swiftly flowing streams, and the scaling of rocky cliffs. Should the individual survive this first camp' ing trip, and should she possess the average amount of intelligence, she immef diately resolves never to so burden herself again. We then find that this camper has advanced to the second stage. Upon the next hike, she is found blithely skipping, yea, even running madly over the trails to the camping grounds. Why? She is not burdened with even a small package. She intends, in the language of the immortals, to sponge her night's lodging. By this is meant that the individual worms her way between the folds of the blankets of her neighbors, remaining there until she is politely and usually forcefully told to move on. This type of hiker is very common, in fact there is no immediate danger of extinction of the race. The third and last stage, known in the vernacular of the camper as the Deluxe Stage, boasts very few adherents. This may be due to the fact that it requires a great deal of forethought, preparation, resourcefulness and tact. The equipment of this stage is numerous and varied. No less than six blankets for each person, an eiderdown pillow, a hot water bottle and a reading lamp are the essential requirements. A portable victrola lends a great deal of atmosphere to the occasion. Upon reaching the camping grounds, the members of the Deluxe class immediately indulge in uboughf ing, in other words, collecting hemlock branches to insure peaceful slumber. After bouldering, that is, playfully tossing boulders yon and hither in the process of clearing a comfortable spot, various interests attract the individual. She may either read or listen to the latest popular music amid the fragrance of the hemlock boughs. There is really no need for sleep. Having passed through this stage, this individual is never allowed to talke any more hikes. Her nonchalant attitude toward the great outfoffdoors is ruinous to the morale of the younger campers. So she must set her brain cells clicking to devise some other method of amusing herself. Bernice Hempel f207j 1931

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Bennett Beacon 15 As we neared the little Town Hall, which is in the middle of the road right in front of the hotel, we could hear music and many voices there. A girl who was going in told us that the Saturday night dance was in progress. We were tempted to go, too, but feared our presence might not be appref ciatedg so we kept on exploring the exterior of the town. Being very curious, we looked into a little place where some sort of cooking was being done. A woman standing in the doorway told us it was Fish and Chips. With some encouragement she became quite talkative. They sell the fish raw with chips, and every night they fry what is left and sell that. She works very hard because her husband has not been strong enough to do much since he came home from the war. At six o'clock in the morning she goes to clean the Catholic school across the street. flt is St. Catherine's Church and School, and its nuns are famous for their beautiful embroidery., She has to take care of her house and her husband and several children. We asked when she found time for the Hsh and chips business. Oh, I do that in between times, and she laughed and seemed happy and satisfied with her life. YVe remarked about the age of the town. She knew little about it, but pointed across the street to the house where her father was born and died, and which had been in the family as far back as she knew. This same woman told us that most of the townspeople work at farming or sheep raising. They arise early and go on foot or bicycle to their work on the hills outside the town. Wages are very low-about thirty shillings a week, which is only a little over six dollars. fCo11tinued on page 45J