Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR Tell me he died bravely, my Bob!” Awkward Tom Bryce patted the little woman’s shoulders and assured her Bob had been the bravest of soldiers. He assisted her into the kitchen, and when she recovered her poise she asked for an account of Bob’s deeds. At the close of a glowing narrative Tom took out the locket and chain. His last wish was that this was to be given to 'Her’,” he said reverently, and added, none of us knew that Bob had a sweetheart.” The old lady took the locket, looked at the picture, and said: Oh— bless his heart! I don’t wonder you didn’t recognize this; it is a picture of me forty years ago. Bob’s little mother died when he was a small boy, and so I took care of him. Instead of calling me grandmother he always called me his sweetheart and carried this old picture around with him.” Tom Bryce turned away with tears in his eyes as the little old lady kissed the locket and put it away in an old trunk with other things of long, long ago. Vincent Quinlan, June ’30. The Call of Summer ID you ever, during the warm summer days, have the desire to I J leave home and just tramp around until you got tired? For many this feeling is satisfied by a month or so at the mountains or seashore. Others go to work while a few answer the call. So it was that on a warm August day two boys from this end of the state (one, from C. H. S.) started on the first leg of their 1,200 mile jaunt. The two young travelers left with nine dollars between them and their objective was Cambridge Springs, Pennsylvania; where lived an aunt and where were prospects of earning money for the return trip. The first day the young hitch-hikers reached Matawan, New Jersey by a couple of lifts, hitches and steps. It was only a six mile trip but the boys were as yet unexperienced and not hardy enough to stand much knocking while sitting on the tail end of a truck on a not too smooth New Jersey road. Moreover, at Matawan were prospects of a meal and a bed at the home of a friend. As the meal and bed were obtained (plus plenty of mosquitoes) the expenses for the day mounted to but 30c a piece, and this spent mostly on sodas. The next day was somewhat better in mileage. Our travelers went from Matawan to Trenton, then to Philadelphia and Paoli, Pennsylvania; which is about twenty-five miles westward out of Philadelphia on the Lincoln Highway. The day had been fairly good except that one of the travelers had had to cut a hole in his shoe to make way for a blister. About fifty cents was spent on eats” and a comfortable night was passed curled up on the soft seat of an idle Pennsylvania Railroad coach. 14

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THE REFLECTOR Gathering himself together, Allen started to play for he knew his only chance was to play and charm the snake until help came. He played and played, until finally he began to wonder how the snake got there. Suddenly he knew—the murderer of the boy had placed it there to kill him and had been shot on coming out of the tent. Hour after hour he played, not daring to move, knowing full well that to stop playing or to move would mean his death. All the scenes of his past life rose up before him, his friends, his sweetheart, his vast wealth and finally he thought of the strange wanderlust which had gotten him into this position. Was he to die like this? No! Every fiber in his body rebelled against it. He had only to play until dawn and then his servant would come in, discover his danger and kill the snake. Even as he thought this he saw the first faint greyness of the approaching dawn. Dead for want of sleep and confident that help would arrive, he let his violin fall from the exhausted fingers. The snake slowly stopped his swaying, coiled for a spring and struck! sinking his cruel fangs deep into Allen’s leg. With a wild yell Allen sprang up and with one blow severed the snake’s head from its body. Then he sank back upon his bed, forgetful of the wound and sleep once more overcame him. Half an hour later his servant came to the tent and found him lying peacefully with closed eyes and a faint smile on his lips—stone dead. “Her” I OB MACFARLAND was a quiet lad, well liked by his superior officers and fellow men. When word was received from the front that Lieutenant Macfarland had been killed while saving his com- panion, and further announcements were made regarding his few posses- sions, together with a small gold locket and chain to be delivered to Her,” the soldiers of the regiment were mystified as well as grieved. The locket was examined, and inside was found the picture of a sweet- faced girl. An address was on the back of it. Out of respect to the last wish of a brave soldier, Tom Bryce, Macfarland’s companion, was sent to deliver the trinkets in person. After a few day’s journey Bryce reached the quaint Scotch town of Traquair, and, following the directions of a ragged Scotchman, he found the home of Macfarland’s sweetheart. It was an odd little house, sheltered by a blooming plum tree, and as Tom hesitated before knocking at the weather-beaten door, it was opened by a tiny, crippled old woman. She looked into his face, and, seeing only sympathy in his eyes, stretched out her hands and cried: 13

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THE REFLECTOR That the hitch-hikers were learning is shown by the fact that on the third day out 315 miles were covered by one lift between Paoli and New Kensington, Pennsylvania, which is a manufacturing town a little north of Pittsburgh. The trip was made in a Pontiac coupe driven by a genial old engineer traveling from North Carolina to Minnesota. (This is not an avdertisement for the Pontiac people.) About 3 5 cents was spent on food and 50 cents for a bed in a Y. M. C. A. The following day 132 miles were covered and the goal reached. Thus approximately 68 5 miles were covered in four days. To reach this place $3.50 was spent. After three days in Cambridge Springs our hitch-hikers again take up their shoes, and strike out for Buffalo after having earned about six dollars on the golf links and rested their tired dogs”. They had a total of $9.50 for their return journey. The eighth day Buffalo and the Niagara were viewed and the night was spent in Williamsville, New York. This was the worst night of all for Williamsville is so small a town that no rooms could be found. A cold but sleepless night was spent in a box car. The next stopping place was Fayettsville which will ever be remem- bered for doughnuts which melted in one’s mouth and were purchased at 20 cents a half dozen. The following nightfall caught our wanderers marooned on the roadside five miles from the nearest town. A supperless night was spent in a hay barn. I say hay barn because today few barns hold hay. An inspection of most barns shows an old Ford and some out of date farm implements. Also, sleeping in the hay is not what some people think it is. The stiff hay pricks the skin and in the morning an hour must be spent picking hay from one’s clothes. The latter part of the journey took our travelers through the pic- turesque Mohawk Trail. The eleventh night was spent in an Albany Y. M. C. A. and the following night our travelers turned in at their own homes. All this time the weather was fine. The men who gave lifts were kind; many times offering meals and suggestions. Many were going long distances and were glad of companionship. A distance of approximately 1,187 miles was covered in nine days of real hitch-hiking. This averaged 132 miles a day which is hard in any man’s country. Towns such as Trenton, Philadelphia, Erie, Buffalo, Syracuse and Albany were visited. In all it was a pleasant experience; making our youthful travelers more sophisticated by bringing them into contact with various kinds of people and showing them what they could do when forced to depend on their own resources. Yanowicz ’29. 15!