Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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MUSICAL ORGANIZATIONS QiULS ' Glee Clu£) Boys Glee Club

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THE SWAN SONG The room was still, save for the soft chords of the organ. A stray sunbeam glanced through the window, playing on the face of the organist as he sat before the beautiful old instrument. The choir began to file in, silently taking its place in the front of the huge room. This choir had been founded full fifty years before by some great lovers of music. By constantly ta king on new men, younger ones who would be able to carry on the work, hardly one of the original group remained. One gentleman, how- ever, was so old and care-worn that he must have been among the founders. His hair was white, his face lined, and his eyes dull and listless. Bowed down by the cares of the world, he Seemed to be far away in a world of his own, oblivious of his surroundings. As the first number commenced, his hands shook, and with a start he came to the present. Gazing in wonder at the young faces about him, he pondered why he, so old and faded, should be placed among these young men, full of life and gayety, the whole future before them. Life was before them, with its happiness and sorrow, joy and defeat, its tricks and turns, and beguiling ways. He, too, had been young once, innocent, and proud to face the world with his young strength. He wished to tell them that it was all useless, that life would fool them when least expected, and would bring sorrow and disappointment with it. Suddenly he felt something straining the very depths of his soul, forcing him to look upward, upward, towards heaven. He began to wonder what his loved ones would think if they could see him then, a sour, bitter old man, not willing to take his portion of the world ' s unhappiness. He began to sing, softly at first and tremblingly, but soon it came clear and strong, so true that it sent a tremor into the hearts of the people, although they knew not why. The choir was hushed by the power of his voice, and the audience scarcely breathed for fear of losing a note. Gallant and brave he was, an old war-horse, his day long since over, but singing with vigor and spirit in memory of his boyhood days. There is an empty seat in the choir now; no one thinks of refilling it. It stands there, a silent reminder of a gallant old gentleman who gave his last song to the world with a smile on his lips, although his heart beat low within him. — Louise Ruggles, H9. CLOUDS As I was looking at the sky, I saw a lovely cloud on high; It turned into a maiden fair With lovely form and flowing hair. An elephant then took her place. With swinging trunk and stately pace; A lonely bird it then becan e. Winging o ' er the ball of flame. A darting fish did then appear, Who knew no joy and knew no fear; ' Twas but a passing, fleecy cloud ; It then became a horse so proud. He marched along with stately tread. But to become a warrior ' s head; And then the sun sank in the west, And all the clouds sank into rest. — Catherine Peck, H7.

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AIR TRAVEL One of my most interesting experiences was my first trip in the air — the flight from London to Brussels. I must confess that the night before I was a bit nervous, and on the early morning motor ride to the air-station at Croyden felt as if I might be going to my doom. My heart was in my throat, as we were carefully weighed and our baggage was weighed, inspected, and stored away in the back end of the plane. We could see several passenger boats above us, making trial flights and were assured that a crew of mechanics had worked all night on our plane and that it had already been tested in the air. There were only six passengers, as miost of the allotted weight was taken up by great slabs of silver bullion being carried from the Bank of England to Belgium. We trusted that with such a precious burden our pilot would be especially careful! Presently we were each seated in a com- fortable wicker chair by a broad window and proceeded to stuff our ears full of cotton from the little metal receptacle over the chair. This, of course, was to guard against the deafening roar of the motor, which was already beginning. Soon came a few moments of bumping along over the ground, which meant that we were off, and gradually we began to rise. As we went higher and higher, all thought of fear left me and I was filled with a glorious thrill which lasted through the whole trip. It was the most wonderful sensation to go sailing along through the air with no more motion than in a motor car on a smooth highv ay. We had a perfect day for flying and there were no air bumps or disagreeable sensations of any kind; and spread out below us, distinctly visible, was the lovely panorama of English countryside — charming little villages with their clusters of quaint cottages, churches with their slender spires, glimpses of forest and meadow and stream. In what seemed an incredibly short time, we reached the sea-coast and looked down on the white cliffs of Dover with wisps of cloud floating above, and there was the channel stretching blue ahead of us. We could even see the white caps and were glad we were in the air. Almost before we knew it, we were across and getting our first view (a bird ' s- eye view) of France. Even from such a height, it looked decidedly different from England. We noticed particularly how pitifully small the trees were, for we were passing over the territory that had been devastated by the war, but every inch of the ground was being cultivated, and the little irregular farms looked like patches in a great crazy quilt. We could see the peasants working in the fields and the oxen hauling the plows. Soon we turned northward and our mechanician told us (by writing, we could not have heard a word he said!) that we were crossing over Flanders and pointed out Ypres. The country now was growing bleaker and more barren, but was interesting still with frequent canals and windmills and clusters of brick chimneys, which told of little manufacturing towns. At last we knew that