Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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IN THE GOOD OLD WINTERTIME HEN winter comes, it brings in its train a number of sports which assure it a welcome from many people who otherwise would be resentful of ice and snow. Much as the boys and girls may regret the passing of tennis and track, and much as the football players bewail the loss of the cool, crisp, autumnal days and the bounding pigskin, still they must admit that pastimes of winter have their fascinations. The rivers and lakes and streams, erstwhile the haunts of swimmers and boatmen, now are covered with glistening ice, over which is heard the click of speeding skates and the merry, lilting laughter of the skaters. Skis are brought forth from dusky closets so that their hardy owners can again defy the laws of gravity and shame the swooping eagle. And who that has ever experienced the thrill of tobogganing can forget it? The long, narrow, curving slide, the breath-taking speed, the roar of the wind and the white glitter of the snow — these are worth living for! Then, too. for the more timid soul, there is the sleigh-ride, with its jingles and creaks and jolly songs. And we must not forget the inevitable snowball fight, in which, what with the flying missiles, the shouts of the splattered warriors, the shrill cries of the fallen, and the brutal, merciless face-washings, all the thrills of combat are experienced. Those who love hiking are never sorry that winter has come. Then it is that all nature is transformed into a veritable fairyland. There is an un- earthly beauty about the woods in winter that is indescribable. The icicles fringing the stark branches, and the ice-bound, silent brook, the white, gleam- ing fields broken by dark, snow-burdened fences, the lowering gray of the winter sky and the uncanny stillness that pervades the land. — who would prefer the prettiness of summer to the sombre loveliness of scenes such as these? And so, when winter reluctantly leaves us, there are those who for these reasons do not begrudge it a parting sigh as they lay away their skates and skis and sleds and boots until it shall again greet us with its cloudy breath and challenge us with its frigid, frowning face. William Reiley. d im Page Thirteen

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