Brattleboro Union High School - Colonel Yearbook (Brattleboro, VT)

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the time we were ready to start the climb our packs were only about half as heavy as when we left camp. After having rested from our ride, we began our five-mile climb to the summit. Four o'clock found us about half way up, still cheerful and lively, but resting more often. As we were once more taking up the trail someone suddenly cried, Look! Between us and another mountain two miles away a dense cloud of fog was stealing, hiding the valleys below, and cutting off our view. Even as we watched, a fierce wind began to blow and the rain poured down. Slickers and ponchos were hastily donned.-We snatched up our packs and started along the trail once more. At first we all struggled in the mist which threatened to hide us from one an- other. Then, as we hiked on, one by one, we passed above the line of mist and by turning we could look down and see the others still struggling. Our own trials were not over, however, for the trail grew steeper and steeper every minute until we seemed to be climbing a perpendicular wall. The summit, at last! The rain was still falling, though not quite as hard, and the wind was blowing a gale. Drenched and al- most exhausted we stood looking down in- to a sea of fog which hid our world from us. Then for just a second the fog was mysteriously drawn aside and we caught a glimpse of Champlain, blood red with the glow of the setting sun. Once again the fog closed down, the rain began to fall harder, and we started down the path lead- ing to the shack where we were to spend the night. Fifteen minutes later we stood in a little tin cabin with a dirt Hoor, one window, a small stove and four huge bunks. Speedily we exchanged our wet paraphernalia for the dry clothing in our packs. The care- taker came over then, built our fire, and brought us blankets. It was now pitch dark, and raining hard. Supper! We never knew before just how much that one word can mean to a hungry human being. Our meal surely was most unusual and original: crackers and jelly for the first course, then bacon, rolls, coffee, bread and lastly tomato soup. How good everything tasted and how everyone did eat, blissfully ignorant of how soon we were to regret our large appetites! With supper over there was nothing in store for us except bed and with five in each bunk we tried to compose ourselves for sleep. First someone would shout, 'Tm c-c-c-cold! Then from another bunk would come a loud snore followed by a giggle and a sleepy, Keep still! From another source, Oh, why did I eat that soup! A few moments of silence, then again, That soup! It will be the death of me! Once more everyone would doze un- Utije tal til with a shriek someone would awaken only to find her blankets had been borrowed while she napped. By three a.m. everyone was awake and up. As soon as the fire was built someone suggested breakfast but strange to say no one seemed very enthusiastic. Of course, we had it, even though no one ate much. Counsellors can't be expected to make as good pancakes as regular cooks! Ten o'clock found the cabin swept, blankets returned, and everything packed for the descent. Never before did I realize that it is just as far down a mountain as up. Early in the afternoon fifteen tired camp girls climbed once more into the truck and started home. Silence, gloomy silence, all the first part of the ride and then gradually every one seem-ed to ,recover the tempora-, rily lost spirits. Songs and jokes began, in fact, we even composed a new song about the Camel's Hump trip. When at last we almost fell out of the truck into the waiting arms of our friends someone shouted Three cheers for Camel's Hump! and everyone joined in Rah! Rah! Rah! -MARGUERITE WELLMAN, '27 THE MODERN CRYSTAL BALL A Scientific Article. Gazing into the crystal ball, the three travelers in the Arabian Nights saw the answers to their queries. Today, the wise men have again turned to crystal for an- swers to their riddles, but this time the crystal is in the form of clear fused quartz. The best quartz obtainable is placed in an electric furnace, under intense heat and careful chemical control, it is fused clearer than glass-so clear that this page could easily be read through a block ten inches modern crystal. thick. The result is this Now, in a rainbow, light is broken up in- to the primary colors. The violet rays have length, beyond the shortest visible wave these, lie the ultra-violet rays with so short a wave length that the eye cannot detect their light. The most powerful microscopes with glass lenses can show objects no smaller than one-half the wave length of violet light. Yet, as has been said, the wave length of ultra-violet rays is shorter than that of violet rays. Glass will not transmit ultra-violet light, but quartz will, consequently, microscopes with quartz lenses will show objects of smaller size than those shown by ordinary microscopes. Since the human eye cannot detect this ultra-violet light, a camera must be used. Two Englishmen, Dr. Gye and Mr. Bar- nard, have isolated the cancer germ. Be- cause of the minute dimensions of the ob- ject of their search, these two men used the best of microscopes with quartz lenses. Through the eye of the camera they saw a tiny object which man had never seen 5 before-the cancer germ. This experiment does not assure a cure for the dreaded disease, but it furnishes a foundation on which science may build a cure. Such a discovery may come in the near future, or it may be long delayed, malaria was con- quered soon after the discovery of its germ, again, the tuberculosis germ was dis- covered forty years ago and scientists are still experimenting with it. At any rate, this experiment of Gye and Barnard may well be considered the greatest scientitic achievement of recent times. A hospital, high in the Swiss Alps, has cured many cases of lung trouble and tuberculosis. The principle of these cures is the direct exposure of the body to sun- light. At this high altitude there is less atmospheric interference with the passage of light. The ultra-violet rays cure the patients and give them a healthy tan. Some hospitals,in our own country accomplish this same end by treating their patients with artificial light. The ultra-violet rays are obtained by using quartz for the elec- tric light bulbs. During these treatments, protective goggles must be worn because the glare of this light is equal to that of the sun. In a similar way, these health- giving rays are used to cure rickets, a disease of deformed or undeveloped bones. The properties of this crystal-clear mineral seem to be designed for curative work. All kinds of light not only go through the mineral, but they seem to fol- low its bends and curves, this permits phy- sicians to project the health-giving rays just where they are needed. For instance, in the curing of hay fever, a slender rod of quartz is inserted in the noseg the rays follow the rod and thus go where they do the most good.' The main objection to the use of fused quartz is the expense. Because of the in- tense heat and the chemical control neces- sary to produce it, its cost is great. The Englishman, Lamplough, is working on a glass which may take the place of quartz, and which will be much cheaper. If he is successful, these new and powerful meth- ods of curing disease will be placed in the hands of almost every hospital. Still, if a cheap substitute is found or if it is not, crystal-clear quartz has played an enor- mous part in modern science. The benefit to mankind, through its bodily cures alone, is immense. Is not the intriguing romance of this modern crystal greater than that of the crystal ball of old? -JOHN C. GALE, P.G. There is a bold class of young freshmen, A Senior girl tried to enmesh one, But the sneering youth said As he struck off her head- Get fresh with all men but a freshman. U

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6 P . 4 THE LURE OF AUTUMN I must heed the call of Autumn, I must yield unto the spell That is cast upon the Northland At the sounding, clear-toned knell. I must breathe the air of Autumn, I must feel the thrill of frost Upon my throbbing senses, By the tang of Autumn tossed. I must listen to the north wind As it sends its lonely cry Through the wildness of the forest From the mountain top on high. And to see the flame of .branches Where the rainbow banners fly- Tinted scarlet, golden, russet, 'Gainst the azure of the sky! I must look upon the fir-trees- When chilling frosts take birth, At the advent of the north wind- Close they nestle to the earth. I must follow, I must follow- For the luring cry is clear, And my heart is heeding answers, Half in love and half in fear. Let me live the life of Autumn, Let my heart beat with it all- For celestial is its beauty And God is Autumn's call. ' -ONNIE BILLS, T.T. NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE How often do we sit and day-dream, build castles in the air, and paint brilliant futures, and with what success do we dream, and build and paint? More often we rise from our dreams, shake off the all-pleasant reverie and as- sume our daily routine tasks. Sometimes the dream lingers in the mind, but more often we quickly dispel it, or lose it among the countless trends and turns in our whirl- ing brain. Not always is the venturer,'the gainer, but it is seldom that he does not learn from his venture. Let us take, a concrete example. A schoolboy hears the call for football men. He goes to the field to see the candi- dates practice. His ambition aroused, he goes home and pictures himself on the team, scoring touchdowns for his team, and the hero of the school. But the one essential is lacking, the follow through, or the spirit to venture. And so he dreams, and paints, and pictures, and plans, but the first game, and consequently every game, finds our dreamer absent from the lineup. And what of other walks in life? The A The . tal artist eonceives in his mind a beautiful picture. The outline is clear. He vividly fancies his model or landscape, and ad- mires the glorious creation of the brain. And so he too dreams until his fancy loses the vivid outline, and the great thing passes into the endless corridor of might-have- beens. The scholar, the business man, the sol- dier, all have their dreams, but seldom do they try to make these dreams materialize. And what of the man who does venture? When his efforts are fruitful, his praises are sung, and he is acclaimed by his fellow men. But when he fails, he is shut out by the thoughtless mob. This trait of the world, to scorn a loser, makes many hesitate to venture forth, but the man who can take unbending the scorn of the mob, is most often the man who is not ashamed of failure, and tries until his efforts are crowned with success. And if he labors and does not achieve his desire, does he have anything for his venture? He has the most precious thing in the world, for his venture has given him experience. -MAX GISSIN, '26 A TRAIL OF REMINISCENCES Lately I have become very much inter- ested in antiques and old records. It seems to have become quite the fashion to collect antiques and there is a certain fascination in exploring the attic and reading old musty papers telling, about family history. I have found some most interesting facts about my English ancestors. It seems that there was one English lady, a great-grand- mother, fondly called down through all the generations the Lady. In all proba- bility, the fine English cups and saucers which are still in the family were brought over here from England one hundred and thirty years ago when she and her family immigrated to Boston. I have also found out the history of an old round, and rather flat China sugar bowl, painted in the old blue, a shade which is very different from any color we have today. This, I found belonged to my great, great, aunt Lavucia, a school teacher, famous in my family history for having taught one hundred terms. Just how many years that was I do not know, but it was between thirty and fifty years. She was engaged to be married and had bought her first set of dishes, of which this bowl was a part, but at the last minute her lover deserted her. There was also in her setting out a certain very long and slender kind of silver spoon, hand-made, called the rat-tail spoon, which, instead of having only the family initial on, had that initial at the top and a little below on one side the woman's given initial and on the other side her husband's given initial. Imagine going to an afternoon tea in a large hoop skirt gown and a tiny bonnet! Tea would be served' out in an old-fash- ioned garden around a tip-table. Even the table manners were different from those of today. First the hostess would pour tea into the cup. Then one would pour what she wanted into a very deep saucer and drink from that rather than from the cup. The cup was then placed on a tiny saucer called the cup-plate to prevent soiling the table cloth. Another interesting discovery was an old black fan. It is sometimes remarked that the girls of to-day are more vain than the girls of yesterday but the fact that there was a fancy mirror on this fan which is probably one hundred years old seems to dispute this statement. Some of the most unique things I found were in a box of trinkets. There was a little glass case with twin dolls in it about two inches in length and carved of wood with painted faces. They were dressed in fancy dresses of a rather stiff, lacy ma- terial, plaited at the waist. I have yet to find out who carved them, but by the looks of dresses they must be at least one hun- dred years old. There were also several tables and stands, the most interesting one being the old fashioned tip-table. This type of table was on a pedestal with the table part made so it could be tipped up against the wall to make more room. This particular one someone tried to decorate by putting on several coats of dark paint over the first stain, but I think it can be restored to its natural beauty. Of course I found old brass candle- sticks too and foot-stoves which were car- ried to church for warmth in winter time but more interesting was the little candle lamp of glass, shaped like an oil lamp, in which a small Wick burned. You haven't any idea how fascinating ex- ploring attics is until you've tried it, so, rather than Wish you could go to a real colonial house to see antiques, first look around your own attic, for no one knows what treasures you may find there hidden away in the dust and cobwebs. -EVELYN THURBER, '27, CAMEL'S HUMP ' One line morning fifteen Hochelaga girls set out in the big camp truck for Camel's Hump. How crowded we were with knap- sacks, slickers, and food packed all over our feet and in our laps! Happy? I should say so! With lusty songs and cheers we left camp and started on our forty-mile ride to the foot of the mountain. A short stop in Essex, our songs, and the numerous bridges and loads of hay to be wished on, kept the trip from being boresome. At last, much shaken by the bumps, we ar- rived at the end of our ride, and, needless to say, the food quickly disappeared. By

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f 6 013132 tal PARVA SED APTA INDIAN POND It is October, the time of the hunting moon, when skies are blue and the up- lands flaming. It is now that you should go to Indian Pond. I This pond is exceedingly hard to find but if you go there, follow the old road past the mill pond and turn in at the old lumber road at the foot of the hill. After two miles of walking over hill and dale you come to an old clearing from which a trail leads to the pond. At the end of the path you come out upon a narrow mossy point covered with clusters of white birches, now stripped bare by the wind, the sign of winter's approach. From a high rock called Wasu Csentinelj by the Indians, you look out over a tiny leaf-strewn pond as blue as the autumn skies. In sharp contrast to the deep blue of the water the giant maples along the shore are flaming with red and yellow. Here and there, rising above the surroundings, stands a great pine or sharp pointed blue spruce, still clad in virgin green. Back in the denser woods a partridge whirs through the underbrush, startled, no doubt, by a dead twig crackling under your foot, while over in a tall dead chestnut a kingfisher utters his shrill challenge to the invader. Off in the hazy distance looms up the broken crag of old Toppletop, haven of the vanishing bald eagle. In the very center of the pond is a tiny island covered with rock maples, in which the crows often debate an important question. You can al- ways hear the red squirrels, those happy- go-lucky, handsome buccaneers, chattering and snickering from the crotch of the big beech tree in the center of the island. But, even as you watch, the great red sun sinks behind the purple banks of clouds and the shadows fall. It is twilight. You shiver, turn up your collar and start back through the darkening woods. -HAROLD MARCH, '26 DAWN-EN ROUTE The train was going north via Spring- field, Massachusetts, and the jaded travelers seemed, for the most part, New Yorkers. I stumbled haltingly and reluctantly through the dim corridor of the gas-lit cars, finally depositing my bag and self in the most likely seat obviously procurable. A neigh- borly human being, just ahead, snorted, peeked back over his chair at me, and then subsided into a listless attitude once more, as I thumped the bag on the fioor. Dawn was lifting the gray rain clouds away with a deft touch, when I peered from my window, and one sly finger of shell pink was poking out inquisitively from the east. Rays of grayish light filtered in through the storm-smeared windows and penetrated the murky interior, revealing, all too truthfully, the tired, train-weary faces, and the slouching attitudes of my fellow travelers. I lifted the window to feel the freshness of the rain-cooled air, and, as it rushed in, the horrid film of smoke and stale hot air seemed to lift visibly and wreathe and circle about the yellow glare of the car lamps. In the gloom, some disturbed slum- berer emitted a growl of protest, and I re- signed myself again to the somewhat freshened atmospheric conditions within, and hastily closed the window. As I turned to do this, and faced the east, an involun- tary gasp of admiration escaped me. The train, speeding along beside the Connecticut river, was revealing new beau- ties at each bend and curve. Willows along the bank were gleaming Htfully in the morning sunshine. Wisps of cloud settling about their tops and weaving among the shoots were touched faintly pink, stealing some of the more glorious color from the sky. The windows of a farmhouse in the west glowed with a fiery heat, while a wisp of blue chimney smoke assailed the on- coming rush of heavenly cerise and rose in unmorailing protest. The river, almost placid after the storm, wound into the dis- tance, pastel shades of rose, blue and gray, mingled in a subdued patchwork, veiling its deeper blue and purple depths. As I watched, the sun struggled with a lavender cloud, and suddenly emerged in golden splendor, displaying before its rays, the more delicate unfoldings of dawn. -M. KENNEDY, '27 A HILLTOP Alone on a hilltop, with the valley below, was I-alone with God. I had climbed the steep hill, scrambling over piles of brush and early fallen leaves, clutching the trunks of the scraggly trees, reaching this little haven of refuge breathless from my efforts. Below, the trees in the valley were revel- ling in the early fall colors and, winding through the chaos of their colors, was a river, reflecting silver to the rays of the sun. A vast mountainside opposite, a mas- terpiece of art in its looming grandeur, shut out a view of the rolling hills beyond. A zestful fall breeze fanned my feverish cheeks and set the leaves in the trees rust- ling. The beauty of it all set my pulse throbbing with some undefined longing. What mattered earthly cares now for sud- denly my undefined longing was met. I realized what this beauty was-it was God -and here I talked with Him. -DOROTHY PETTEE, '26 FROSTING AND INDUSTRY Maria departed from her home on her daily marketing expedition. She was cer- tain that there was going to be a famine, as good food was becoming quite scarce. Hurrying down a small side street she noticed a large white object slightly con- cealed by the trunks of the grass trees, at the other end of the nearby field. The odor that permeated the vicinity proved alluring to Maria. Running to the mysteri- ous object, Maria found, to her delight, a delicious piece of food, not at all hurt by its fall on the moss. Finding that she could not carry her treasure or even move it, she ran to her home and soon returned with thirty-two assistants. After much tugging and pulling, the procession finally reached the door of Maria's house. The treasure could not be taken through the doors, so Maria told everyone to eat as much as possible. This her assistants did. The tea party proved a success, for Maria found, that by knocking a little off each side of the door, the food could be brought into the house. After more shoving and pushing the food disap- peared in the doorway with all its assis- tants. I rose from the grass, Wondering if peo- ple would work as hard for food as those ants had worked for the frosting. -HELEN BOOTH, '27 ON TIME One of the most interesting studies of stories and slogans is a study of being On Time. When a boy or girl starts in life, his first impressions are those of hear- ing his father and mother speaking of him as being able to talk On Time , or in plainer language, at the same age the average child talks. From that time on he is drilled, by repetition, to be On Time. He must be On Time to dinner, to school, to play and to various other ap- pointments. If his thinking abilities do not develop On Time, it is, time to see a specialist. If he is kept after class, he must run home in order to be On Time to his meals. It does not matter if the run or other exercise leaves him sick, tired, or weak, since the great goal is again at- tained, he is On Time. And so it goes through life. If he is late to class, a terri- ble thing has happened. He has failed to be On Time. In his business he hur- ries to work in order to hear his boss say, There's a worker, he is 'On Time. ' He marries On Time , he supports his children and sends them to school On Time. Later in years he grows old, re- tires from business and is taken in by his children On Time. His father and family have all died at the age of eighty-nine and as that year approaches for him, he begins to look forward to death. At last he is dying and with his family and children gathered around he knows that he will soon be ninety years old. But just before the clock strikes his ninetieth birthday, he straightens up and cries, f'Thank God! On Time , and dies. -F. A. SEARs, '26