Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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HIGH SCHOOL The W I T A NT a concrete road wound its way along the other side. The train was speeding steadily homeward when there appeared on the canal a tug towing several barges, an automobile passed over the road, and an airplane zoomed overhead. Thus for a brief moment, four different means of transportation and com- munication presented themselves. The slow, puffing barge, the smoothly riding auto, rolling along the winding road, the screeching train, speeding relent- lessly down the straight track, and the zooming airplane, speeding ar a terrific speed through the unobstructed air above, showed the wonderful progress man has made in the development of transportation. This picture seemed to me rather unusual, as four such widely different means of travel are seldom seen in operation ar one rime. P. Andrews, ’ji CHRISTMAS MF.MORIES The kettle singing on the hob, the hot, bright fire, the soft, crunching sound of feet on the snow outside, the gay expectancy of the morrow, all tend to make this Christmas F.ve a merry one. Cheeses, pics, cakes, nuts, and beverages stand on the table ready for the feast to come. The deep easy chairs drawn invitingly close to the fire will soon be filled with happy occupants. There is but one flaw :n the whole of this content- ment; I am not to be permitted to stay for the fun. Even now mother has come in and bundled me up and pur me off to bed. As I lie awake I hear noises below. People are laughing and the constant pop of corks denotes that the party has begun. How to get downstairs! I hear the carollcrs singing below, who go from house to house singing about the new born Babe, but not a word about Santa Claus (or Daddy Christmas as he was known to me then). Where is the jolly old man? I go over to the fireplace and look up rhe chimney. A fire is not to be built in the grate tonight; Santa’s whiskers might catch fire. I look on the mantel piece to see if mother has pur rhe candy there which I am to get if I behave myself well until morning. I ger an idea ’ Going back to my bed I begin to cry very loud, in order to make myself heard above the others. After almost crying myself hoarse, mother comes running up the stairs and I tell her that I can sec bogey men on rhe wall. Mother’s powers of soorhing me seem to be a little lacking tonight, so I gain my end and I am carried down stairs. The living room which was so green, cozy, ami quiet is now filled with laughing people, good things to cat, and Christmas hymns are being played by the guests who are gifted with the talent to play and sing. Bur where is Santa Claus? After parraking of some of the sweets handed to me, I cuddle up in a very large green chair and fall asleep. Annie Rawlinson, '.»4 THE HOl'SF. I INHERITED 'The wind blew fiercely. Ir was raining cats and dogs. I hastened up the steps slipping about a million times in the pitch black of the night because of my rubber soles. After fumbling around under the mar about an hour I finally found the key to the front door. I turned it in the lock with a click and pushed the tloor open Heavers, how musty ir smelled in there. I hoped that I’d find a candle or an electric light switch, but after feeling over the walls and lighting seventy-five matches, I decided that no such thing existed. The floor creaked terribly and I nearly jumped out of my shoes as the lightning hit a tree near by with a crack. Gosh, why hail I gone to the country in such a dilapidated affair as my old tin-lizzie. 1 knew it would hreak down some day, bur I hadn’t expected it to fall completely to pieces so soon. My thoughts wandered for a second, but after knocking my head on a mantle I came back with a start. I thought I’d remembered the house quite well. Ir seems I hadn’t. My Unde had dial a year ago and left me this old place and this was the first time in years rhnr I had seen ir (rather felr ir.) Suddenly I felt myself shoot into space. ()h-h-h, had I stepped into an elevator shaft? There had been one I remembered. Well, if I had, I had come to the bottom, hut no, it couldn’t he unless it was a new kind of one. I picked myself up, a hit stiffly to he sure, and stood upon rhe soft pile of clothes I hail landed upon, trying to accustom myself to the darkness. Jumping off on to a cement floor I saw stairs winding upward. Being desperate hv now, I decided to follow them whatever the cost. I followed those steps that wound around in circles until I was ready to drop. Finally I reached a wiggly landing, off from which was a corridor. A cobweb brushed my face. Glorv, if there was a spider at the end! But I had worse things to worry about; a bat swooped down and seemed to take a chunk out of my arm. I screeched and ran pell-mell into the blackness until I was winded. Gee whiz, what would happen next? I sprawled full length over a pail of stagnant water spilling it over my legs. Picking myself up I began to cry like a baby. Then with .1 sol I looked into the distance and saw a light1 ! You can’t know how I felt. I charged like .« hull 21

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CHARLOTTE The WIT AN And meanwhile poor Cicero has been entombed in the White House so that admiring history students can more easily visit- his grave. Mr. and Mrs. Hoover arc glad to be able to give something in behalf of the memory of a great man. And poor Archias! I le has been elected a citizen of Mars when he wants to reside in Jupiter. What a fate for poor, poetical Archias, ami Cicero, being entombed in the White House, is unable to sway the multitudes with his oratorical genuis. Poor Archias is doomed to an unhappy life. In Mars all the crea- tures arc mathematically inclined. They do nothing hut dig dirches at right angles and fly airplanes in straight lines. The inhabitants care not a fig for music, literature or poetry. And, since machines don’t cat, they have no figs to care with. There arc my three great historical heroes, con- signed to miserable fates. Vaguely to my cars comes a familiar voice: “And if some people would stay awake and pay attention in Latin class, perhaps they would get a more agreeable mark.” And I find that I have been sleeping in Latin Class! THK BUGLER The evening was cool, the smell of new cut hay hung lightly on the air, and the brilliant stars of the Milky way shone coldly on the small shelter halves of the overnight camp. Just at the brief space of time between twilight and night, there came the sound of a bugle, clear and sweet, and looking out of the back of the tent I saw the silhouette of the bugler against the cold, dark blue sky, as morionless as a rock, sounding, “Call to Quarters,” and to the rear of him, lofty maples swung their gigantic, arm-like branches slowly in the breeze. A little later I watched the same scene when he sounded Taps”, and the low buzz of the camp gradually grew silent while far away a lonely dog howled long and mournfully. Then the long-rc- membered scene was swiftly closed bv slumber. I Iarrv Grf.fr, ’32 SCRAM BOLA To bear or sec Scrambola anyone would rhink her useful days were over; that is unless be were ac- quainted with Scrambola. Despite its battered fenders and squeaky body, and rhe sad loss of its top during its younger days, Scrambola could still stand the wear and tear of the humpy detour from Charlotte ro Stone Road. It’s true one could never tell just when the old thing would, in a spiteful mood, refuse to run, or just when one of the tires would decide to blow out, but then a little tinkering will soon get it going again. It seems a miracle that Scrambola even runs at all; but then who ever heard of a model T stopping for good ? Margaret Gof.li.fr, ’33 ANNE HATHAWAYS GARDEN English gardens are said to be the most pictur esque and the loveliest in the world; and one of the quaintest and truest to English traditions is the garden of Anne Hathaway. The charming thatched cottage wirh its gabled windows and diamond panes of glass forms a perfect setting for one of the prettiest and most talked-of gardens in the world. The English cottage and its garden still stand, as in the days of Anne Hathaway, and Will Shakespeare. In 1910 when rhe last descendant of the Hathaway family died in the little cottage, it was purchased by the government. Both the cottage and the garden are in rhe same condition as they were in Anne Hathaway’s time. The quaint little gate still swings inward, and a flagged walk leads to the door. The walk is bordered with rows of nodding hollyhocks, and beyond is the garden itself full of fragrant and bright flowers. Anne’s garden was not only ornamental, hut it was the test of a good homemaker; for here she grew food for the tabic, medicine for times of sickness, and materials for perfume and sweet-meats. Close by rhe kitchen door is the salad-bed, and in another are the strewing herbs, formerly used for strewing church floors. Mint grown here in abundance was also used in churches. The flowers used for garnishing were nasturtiums, violets, marigolds, roses, and blue star- shaped flowers. Parsley, rosemary, and sage also grew here anti horchound used in making cough sirups and tansy for cakes and puddings at Easter- time. Most delicious confections were made from the roses. Candied rose-petals ami rose water we still enjoy, lmt the rose syrup, conserve, and vinegar of Anne I lathawav's tiny arc now only a tale that is told. So the influence of this quiet, little English garden, its beauty, perfume and utility have reached around the world, thanks to the magic of Will Shakespeare's pen. Behind him stands the woman who made, tended, and loved that garden until he came to love it, and wove it into his immortal plays for countless generations to enjoy. Etta Louise Rvast, 33 A TRAVEL PICTURE As I was coming home from Syracuse on the train, a picture Hashed by my line of vision which I can srill see in my mind. At the particular spot where I saw this picture, the railing ran along one side of the Barge Canal, while 20

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The WITAN CHARLOTTE r« that light and pushing open the door, fell upon a woman there. She explained that she was the care- taker and I, drawing a weepy breath, asked for the phone. After calling my father, I was overjoyed to hear him say that he’d come and take me away from rhat house of horrors! Margaret Sandi.k, 34 TURPENTINE CAKE When my mother was a small girl she was asked to make a cake for a church supper. Mother was very happy to think rhat she was asked to do rhis favor for the church. It was Thursday, and Friday was the night of the church supper. Mother hurried home from school and after changing her clothes she hurried to the kirchen to mix the cake. When she removed it from the oven her mother told her rhat it looked eatable. When Friday night came mother dressed in her ver best and sat waiting for her escort. She told him of the cake she had made for the supper and rhat he should not tell anyone that it was her cake. When the table was cleared and the cake and ice cream served, mother did nor norice the expressions on the people’s faces when they had rasted of hcrcake. It was her first cake for the public to sample. Her partner thinking it his place to praise her cake remarked how goexi it tasted and asked if he might have another piece. The church members looked at him in question. He did not wish mother to be dis- appointed bur it was of no use for her Aunt Anna said, Esther, is rhis your cake? Mother replied, Yes, Aunt Anna Why? Why? Why my dear child it tastes like turpen- tine. We will all he very ill, she replied. After many embarrassing moments and uneasi- ness, mother made her exit and ran home. Her mother met her ar rhe door and asked her whar the trouble was. Mother repeated her sad mishap. Together mother and grandmother went to the kitchen to look over the ingredients that mother used in her cake. When they came to the vanilla bottle they removed the cork and after smelling of it, they stood looking at one another. Even though mother was unhappy she could not resist laughing. After a few minutes mother returned to the church supper happy and laughing. Mother tried to take it as a mere jest when people laughed at her. Rut to rhis very day mother is teased and laughed at about her turpentine cake. F.lain South, '3 4 A COED WINTER’S NIGHT The night was cold; the stars against rhe dark blue sky made me shiver, and the moon with the clouds passing over it now and then, as well as the shrill blood-curdling shrieks of the shriek owl pro- duced a cohl atmosphere, making chills go up and down my spine. Help! Help! ’ came the cry of someone, at mid- night, over the hill. I left my camp and found near North Peak Cane, a man, with l oth legs snapped in the bear trap I had set! He was almost frozen to dearh. I carried him to my fire, and tent, for he couldn’t walk. I rhen covered him with my blankets and went out to get more wood for the fire. When I returned, my dog was at the opening of the tent, howling, howling as dogs howl when someone is dead' ' Arthur Hocak, iiB CAT’S FOOD, M-m-rn One Sunday evening, as the family was gathered around the fireside, rhis is the story that mother told: When Adele was about one year old, I left her alone in the house to play with the kitty, while I hung out the clothes. When I returned, she was not in sight. I looked everywhere, hut could not find her. Finally coming to the conclusion that she was kid- napped, I telephoned rhe police. Just before the police arrived, I heard a whimper, coming from the direction of the stove. Looking under the stove, I found Adele eating the cat’s food. After that, I never formed such hasty conclusions. AN EDUCATIONAL TRIP One day last summer I was invited to rake a trip through Ithaca, New York. Ithaca is located in a valley; it is the home of Cornell University. The day after our arrival wc went through diff crcnt buildings about the college. The museum was rhe firsr we entered. The structure was of two stories. On rhe first floor were relics, such as: weapons, Indian's tomahawks, different kinds of pottery and jewelry. The second floor consisted of a huge skeleton of a man-eating animal. Its structure re- sembled a giraffe, only many times bigger in size. In jars there were petrified animals and plants. Wc also saw stuffed tigers, lions, wild-cats, and a structure of a huge fish caught by a man living in Ithaca. After leaving this building we went to a Picture Gallery, a beautiful building inside and out. In this building they have beautiful paintings, costing millions of dollars; in one part of this building there are statues of famous people; the headless horseman and many other statues. I f you ever have the chance to go through some of these buildings, do so for they arc Ixith interesting and educational. Cora Papke, gB