Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR iron gates to break thru before the enemy could get into the main part of the structure. It was largely due to this construction that the Marksburg was never captured. As the foe passed thru each gate they were con- fronted with soldiers while pitch was poured down on them from above. If they had suc- ceeded in breaking their way thru the three gates, there would still have been a high tower into which the occupants could flee. The only access to it was a little window thirty feet above the ground. The walls of the whole fortress including the tower were from fifteen to eighteen feet thick. We were then shown the interior of the castle. The rooms were all identical in that they contained a small window and faded oil paintings which showed the artist’s fidelity and assiduousness. All of the rooms were more or less dark on account of the scarcely be- lievable thickness of the walls. The only arti- ficial light to be had was that of candles; con- sequently whatever reading or writing was done in those days was strenuous work for the eyes. Of all the rooms that we saw, the most in- teresting was one which contained a collection of armor used by the former knights. The suits were all arranged as well as possible and afforded an educating spectacle. With each outfit, swords, spears, and lances and the horse's protection were included. Noteworthy Is the fact that each outfit weighed at least sixty pounds. Some of the breast plates and helmets contained dents from sword slashes or spear blows. Another noteworthy chamber was the smithy. Crude, indeed, were the tools there; but they' served the purpose. The knights gave the smith instructions as to size and decorations. Then the brawny man went to the forge and with little more than a hammer set to work. In the smith)- cannon balls were a so made. Even in these early days powder was used to help along the crude bullets. As is to be expected, very few knights had can- nons to protect their homes. Then we came to the last and probably the most awful part of the castle, the dungeon. In order to reach this room, we had to pass over a narrow bridge which was originally merely a p’ank. The room contained nothing soee a!, but there was a hole in the floor about two feet square. It was thru this hole that the prisoners were let down for eternity. The only food that they received was dry and rotten. It was often unfit to feed to the dogs. No apportionments were made. At all times it was filthy and damp there. To make the conditions even less bearable the dead were not removed. Imagine being let down into an ebon, moss-covered compartment from which escape was practically impossible. No wonder the feminine members of our party were overcome with trepidation. Altho we greatly enjoyed the time we spent viewing this structure, we were just as glad to get out in the open air again. A. H., June '23. “TOOTS” Mother said that I might earn money for Christmas, so I thought it would be nice to care for someone’s baby after school. I an- answered this advertisement: “WANTED—A school girl to come after school to take “Toots” for air. Also help with her on Saturdays.” At first my people protested, for as my father said, “anyone who refers to her child as ‘Toots’ is suffering from brain softening.” but 1 was so filled with desire and curiosity that my father found out that the advertisers were respectable people and I was permitted to go. I entered a luxurious hall and a maid tele- phoned up to an apartment that a girl was below to care for “Toots.” A lady came down soon after. She was just like the leading lady in the play, you know, all pink and white, and I’m not sure but I think the pink could be washed off. “Just sit here a minute,” she indicated. She smiled and it was a pretty smile; but then I thought, “I'm glad I’m not “Toots.” I like my kind of mother better. She isn’t so sort of foolish.” “Are you kind ?” she asked. “Yes, I think I’m kind.” “Can you give baths carefully?” “Well, I can wash my niece so that she looks as shiny as new aluminum, and I don’t get soap in her eyes either, tho’ her own mother does sometimes.” “Oh, you’ll do nicely,” she said. “I’ll teach you myself all I want you to do, right now.” There followed a period of learning about different soaps—three, in fact—cotton for eyes, different kinds of towels, water tem- peratures, milk temperatures, and a million other things. “My, this must be a perfect baby,” I thought, “with so much care.” “Now I guess you want to see “Toots.” I know you’ll love her.” And 1 was ushered upstairs through rooms that I thought be- longed only to the “movies.” Finally we came PAGE SIXTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR A TALE ABOUT DOUGH In early times, the operations of the bar- ber were not confined as now to shaving, hair dressing, and making of wigs; but in- cluded the dressing of wounds, blood-letting, and other surgical operations. It seems that in all countries, the art of surgery and the art of shaving went hand in hand. Mr. Barentz was one of these barbers, daily visiting his customers, and performing what- ever was to be done. He was a small, stout, short-sighted man, filling his suit even better than his office. His hair, of red color, stood in stiff, bushy tufts about his ears, and his broad red bow gave his whole face the appear- ance of a framed-in pie with a large hill in the middle. To see him stride along on a winter morning, his shape about as spherical as the earth’s, one might easily mistake him for a snowball instead of our good old friend, were it not for the color of his face, hair and bow. Thus, he whom I have just described was traveling to one of his customers. His pot under one arm and other surgical instruments in the other, he was busily whistling to him- self until he finally knocked at the door of Mrs. X’s kitchen. The door was opened, and the lady of the house bade him enter into the room adjoining. Mr. Barentz, feeling that the pot under his arm was in his way, laid it on the kitchen table and did as he was asked. His mouth watered when he saw that the mistress was making dough; for at such times he was al- most sure to get at least one cookie. As he sat thus, the master of the house ar- rived, and everything having been prepared for the hair cut which he was to have Mr. Barentz looked hurriedly for his pot. Finally he caught a glimpse of it and without looking in it hurriedly put it over the head of his patient, for such was the old method of hair cutting. But lo 1 his patient’s head looked like a volcano that had just run over, only in place of the lava was dough—all dough 1 The poor patient made a desperate effort to cry for help, but every time he opened his mouth, the dough ran in. Soon after, Mrs. X appeared with great lament. “My dough 1” she cried, “My dough! You have spoiled it on my husband’s head.” With that she boxed Mr. Barentz on the ears saying, “Here’s your old pot and remember it.” The next minute Mr. Barentz was sitting outside on the stoop, his pot a broken mass beside him. He gazed astonished about him- self with the words, “Well, for the love of mud.” Thus all hopes for cookies were gone, and whether he went home again or whether he sits in the same place to this day, I leave for you to decide. J. Kirciihof, June ’24. THE MARKSBURG ' I ' HERE are all sorts of fortresses on the A Rhine in Germany. Some are large, some are small; some are high, some are low; some are entirely in ruins, some are well kept: some have been entirely rebuilt, while but one is in its original state. And that one, called Marks- hurg, is the one 1 am going to describe. It is visible from a great distance because of its location on a mountain. We had to do about fifteen minutes of climbing before reach- ing our destination. All along the road were benches so that we could rest occasionally. At the end of the road was a little restaurant where we waited for our turn to go thru the castle. As soon as the guide came we started out. He first called our attention to the fact that there was a moat to get over and three strong PAGE FIFTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR to a blue and white nursery. As the lady walked over to a white enamel basket. 1 was frightened out of my nine years of growth, for “Toots” didn’t crow nor gurgle. She didn’t even cry. She barked! All this for a mere dog. J. V„ June ’26. THE SPEED VIXEN T EAN LA MAR showed her first signs J of speed at the age of three when she tumbled down two flights of stairs because the descent was quicker that way. At ten she could ride her bicycle at a fast pace. On her eighteenth birthday her father presented her with a big, powerful, racing car. With this she was an unusual speed demon. She had a huge, silver loving cup which she had “cop- ped” in a race from a field of professional drivers. But still she was dissatisfied. She wanted something with more speed and thrills. So it was on her twentieth birthday that she reminded her dad of the present he had promised her. “So you thought you had to remind me, did you?” questioned her father as he blew a cloud of bluish cigar smoke into the air. “No, Daddy, I knew you wouldn’t forget me but 1 thought perhaps you would forget what 1 wanted,” responded the little dark haired girl seated on the arm of his chair. No. To-morrow morning when my little Jean is twenty she shall see it.” “Oh, Daddy, you’re a dear.” And deep silence fell upon them. Mr. La Mar broke his thoughtful mood finally. “Jean,” he said, “if I give you what you want you will have to make a promise to me.” She looked at him with a puzzled counten- ance and nodded. “Promise me you will never do any fool- like tricks with it as you have been accustomed to in your car.” “Oh Daddy!” she exclaimed with a note of disappointment in her voice. “No. You’ll have to promise me. I’m sorry but I don’t want to lose my little girl.” Silence again interrupted their conversation, but not for long however. “Yes. 1 promise—I’m sorry,” she apolo- gized, “I didn’t mean to be so selfish to my good daddy.” “That’s a good girl. Now, when you’re ready to see it to-morrow morning call me and I'll take you down.” “All right. Good-night.” And she skipped off to bed like a happy child. The next morning, bright and early, Jean brought her father from his sound sleep to show the present to her. lie was still grum- bling a little because of his interrupted sleep when he climbed in the car beside his daugh- ter. “I can’t wait until I get there,” said Jean as the big car rolled forward. “Well, remember, not too fast. I’m with you,” he replied. She cast a teasing smile at him and said, “All right, Daddy, not over seventy.” He had ridden with her before and knew she would keep her word. He said nothing but braced his feet against the floor, pulled his cap further down on his head, and grasped the seat with both hands. And keep her word she did. The car had not gone a mile on the smooth, concrete road when it was doing fifty miles an hour. She glanced once at the crouched figure by her side, smiled, and in- creased her speed. In response the big car leaped forward and the speedometer stopped for a moment at sixty-five, then moved slowly on to sixty-seven—sixty-eight—sixty-nine, and remained there until they reached the city. When they stopped at their destination Jean turned to her father and said laughingly, “Well, Daddy, I didn’t even do seventy.” “No,” he replied, “but so near it that it wasn’t healthy.” As they entered the big office a tall, dark man greeted them. “Good morning, Mr. La Mar.” “Good morning.” “You have come to see about your order?” he questioned. The other nodded. “Well, it was delivered this morning. It ought to be at your home by now.” “Good. By the way, Jean, this is Mr. Doran who will instruct you.” She smiled and nodded her recognition. “Shall we start to-morrow or is that too soon?” questioned Doran. “Oh! We can’t begin too soon,” she re- plied. “Very well, to-morrow morning then.” When they reached the car she jumped in and exclaimed, “Hurry up. Daddy, I can’t wait until I get home.” “You can go ahead,” he replied, “I think I’ll take a taxi home because this time I sup- pose you won’t go any faster than the car can go.” She smiled. “All right, Daddy, I’ll have a taxi come get you.” And she sped away leav- ing him in a cloud of dust. She found a taxi and gave the driver the direction. PAGE SEVENTEEN