Boys High School - Epitome Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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THE EPITOME 55 succeed well at a trade. Later, his wife was unsynipathetic and unkind. Finally, even his children seemed to despise him. But there was his poetry, the golden room into which Joe was privileged to steal for a few minutes of real joy after the drudgery of each day. Then there was joe's son, a lad who seemed to have inherited his father's characteristics. Like his father, the boy was sullen, morose and even stubborn. He was obstinate to the extent of being expelled from school. Only when he had caiuse to rebuke his son did the father find that the lad, too, was a creative artist: that the boyfs life also contained its golden room, poetry. Only when father and son understood each other were they able to share their joys, their golden room. Now,.I would not have you think that Stevenson was merely a dreamer, a theorist when he spoke. His truism applies not only to poets, but to humanity as a whole. Every life knows its mud house, it should also possess its golden room. . NVhat do I mean by mud house? The term as Stevenson uses it suggests those unpleasant elements in our environment which we can only partially condi- tion or perhaps those conditions over which we have no positive control. Stated briefly, mud houses are the thorns in life, the thorns that must go with the roses. But sad indeed is the person whose life is merely a briar patch. Mud houses! Examine for a moment Stevensonls career. His mud house was disease, which drove him over the world in quest of health. Out of a mud house of blindness the disconsolate voice of Milton murmurs: Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ? Helen Keller's mud house shuts her from a world of colors, sounds and speech. Edison's ears are deaf to some of the beautiful tones he has helped to recreate for humanity. Thus far we have dealt with merely the physical. Mud houses take other forms. Mary Lamb and VVilliam Cowper fought against insanity. The early lives of Edmund Spenser and Dr. Johnson knew a struggle against poverty. Shakespeare's art was scorned to such an extent that he was forced to lament: In disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble heaven with my bootless cries. T he experience is common with humanity. We, my classmates, in our own lives need not expect otherwise. Adverses will come. The cold winds of mis- fortune will chill us. The world will frown. Experience will often seem a cruel taskmaster. But-and here is the optimistic phrase of my subject-remember the golden room. If the individual so wills, the mud house may have a place of pleasant sanctuary. Stevenson found his golden room in the happy associations with friends and booksg Milton penned an immortal epic, Shakespeare had his artg Edison has his laboratory. But what of you and me? Has our High School career furnished for each of us a golden room? Did High School teach you to enjoy good books, to com- mune with the great minds of the ages? Did you learn how to relax in pleasant play in track, diamond, or court? Did science open up to you fields for interest and discovery, did it help to interpret for you the wonders of the world in which you live? Did Music share with you her joys in orchestra, band, or glee club? Did you participate in the arts of expression or argumentation? These oppor- tunities your school held out to you. Did you benefit by them? Tell me how you spend your leisure hours, and I will tell you what you are. The worthy use of leisure is a nation's problem. You will soon choose a vocation. NVhat of your avocation? Have you cultivated a worthy hobby, a pastime which will strengthen you for your working hours, and which will, like Moses' branch at Marah, make the bitter waters of life sweet? Your avocation will be your pass-key to your golden room.

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54, THE EPITOME To the Principal, the Vice-Principal, the Class Adviser, and Members of the Faculty of the High School for Boys: You have ever kept before us the realities of life for which we have been preparing. You have been unsparing in your efforts to gird us for the fray. Ere we go forth to the battle for those ideals which you held before us, we grasp your hands and thank you. We say, Farewell! To the Members of the Class of 1926 June: When Duty whispers low, 'Thou must,' The youth replies, 'I can.' Duty has spoken to each one of us. A clarion call has summoned us to service. I.et us, with our faces toward the dawn, go forth to battle, to victory. I.et us, in this day, fight a good fight for those high ideals which old Reading High has held before us. The zero hour is here. Let us go over the top to victory. Farewell! SAILUTATOJRY M'The Golden Roomm' THOMAS BARNETT Ladies and Gentlemen: Speaking for the Iiaculty and the Class of 1926 June of the High School for Boys, I bid you a most hearty welcome to these, our Commencement Exercises. When the name of Robert Louis Stevenson is mentioned, one usually thinks of Saint Gaudens' conception of the man as displayed on a mural bronze in St. Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. There is the author, pallid, wan, consumptive, reclining on his couch and penning delightful poems for children, verses that bear to the world the wonders of the Land of the Counterpane. Then there is that other Stevenson, author of exciting tales for boys, creator of Old John Silver, the Admiral Benbow, and the stockade on the island. Rarely, however, do students think of Stevenson as an essayist, author of Virginibus Puerisquef' or as a philosopher. Yet it is in the latter role that I would have you regard him today. Stevenson is sitting perhaps amid the tropical grandeur of his home in the South Seas. He is contemplative and philosophical. He is thinking of a certain character, concerning whom he makes this observation: His life from without may seem but a crude mound of mud, there will be, however, some golden room in which he dwells delighted. Upon this truth as a basis, Agnes Turnbull, in the current issue of a repre- sentative magazine, has built up a wonderfully gripping father and son story. When Joe Crawley was a mere lad, his mother died, leaving her son to the care of his grandparents, who did not understand him. joe was unlike the other boys of the village: he was frail, shy and easily imposed upon. He loved to roam about, drinking in the natural glories of field and wood. He had the soul of an artist. Time came when he felt the urge to write poetry. He found an outlet for his feeling in beautiful words. But he was afraid of being criticised, so he jealously guarded his newly found delight. Poetry became for Joe the golden room into which he could withdraw when untoward circumstances threatened to overwhelm him. Circumstances, indeed, were unkind to Crawley. judged by outward appear- ances, his life truly bore all the drab resemblances of a mud house. Wfhen he was a boy, his playmates mocked him and beat him. He was too impractical to

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56 THE EPITOME Slketeh oil ..lIollm To ll-Tariisg our Commencement Speaker It, indeed, is a great opportunity and privilege to have a man of extensive education, Wide experience and great achievements deliver the Commencement Address. Mr. john T. Faris is a noted author, editor and clergyman. The place that Mr. Faris occupies is of national repute. To gain such a position one must have preparation, one must be a hard worker, one must have ability. Mr. Faris is a graduate of Princeton University, with the A. B. degree. He is also a graduate of McCormick Theological Seminary of Chicago. With this background or preparation, Mr. Faris was ready for a career of public service. One of Mr. Faris' early occupations was being local editor and business man- ager of The Talk, Annapolis, Indiana. Later he became business manager of The Occidentf' San Francisco. About that time he was ordained a Presbyterian minister and devoted himself largely to that sacred and holy profession. It was not long before he became the pastor in Mt. Carmel, Illinois, and after that the pastor of Markham Memorial Church of St. Louis, besides ministering in various Sunday School publications and Sunday School Committees, namely, 'fThe S. S. Times, Philadelphia, Presbyterian Board of Publication and US. S. Work, International S. S. Lesson Committee, International S. S. Executive Committeeg World L. L. Association and Council of Evangelical Denominations. Mr. Faris ranks high as an author. He published many books of both re- ligious, historical and travel nature. Some of his books are: The Sunday School and the Pastor, Romance of the English Bible, Reapers of His Har- vest, The Mother Heartf' The Christian According to St. Paul, Romance of Old Philadelphia, Makers of Our History, Seeing the Far West, Seeing the Sunny South, Seeing the Eastern States, and many others.