Hathaway Brown School - Specularia Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

Page 24 text:

of dirty yet attractive children were every- where, and very often 3 g2y,C-M1655 boy with his hands in his Pockets Pgssed us' singing snatches of lively Italian airs. Finally, leaving the noisy city behind us, we began our long and tedious ascent of Mt. Vesuvius. As the horses had to walk all the time, much to our dismay we f01111d ourselves entirely at the mercy Of strolling bands of musicians, who persisted in follow- ing us until we were forced to throw them a few centimes to stop their inharmonlous song, but only to find another band at the next turn in the road. As our horses seemed fast walkers, we overtook a small train of carriages and suc- ceeded in passing all but one, and, the Fates being against us, the poor horse behind us had the heaves, and of course that made us very uncomfortable, as we could not get away on account of the narrowness of the road. What a relief it was after what we called our many tribulations when we finally be- held great beds of lava stretching all around us, and l-:new that we were at last reaching our destination. I-low glad we were- to leave the carriage, for we had been driving for over three hours, we were also much pleased to take our luncheon at Cook's Station before jour- neying farther. After luncheon we took the little railway car which seems to the startled passengers to go soaring up to the sky. but which really takes you quite near to the crater. Securing a NVEHIIIQI'-beaten old man for a guide, we began the remain- der of our ascent on foot. We were Con- stantly bothered by men who carried large Straps which they wanted us to take hold of that they might help us along. But We gently but firmly refused their kind Offers and went up independently. At last we had attained our desire, for there before us was the frowning gaping crater which was sending a curling cloud of smoke strai ht G 3 UPWHTCL where it soon blended with the azure blue of the Italian Sky. It seemed as if the old Vulcan were quietly smoking, and the embers in his forge dying outg but suddenly he awoke with a jerk, and grasping his hammer, struck the anvil a ringing blowj a loud rumbling sound was heard and large pieces of burning lava were thrown high in the air, falling all around us. I must confess when this little eruption came, I-well,.I ran! Summoning all my courage, I came back to the edge of the crater and looked into the great abyss which seemed to me filled with smoke and a gen- eral mixture of horrible things. Just then I heard another rumble and I began an or- derly retreat. There were a good many pieces of hot lava around the crater and they scorched the soles of our shoes. From the top of Mt. Vesuvius we had a gorgeous view of all the surrounding coun- try. The picturesque' little villages clus- tered on the hillsides, the beautiful bay of Naples sparkling in the golden sunshine, and far as the eye could reach might be seen glistening white sails speeding across the blue water and seeming to race with the Heecy clouds overhead! - V On the other side we saw Pompeii, as it lay there peacefully in the valley, we could realize more fully than ever the terror of that dreadful time when it was covered and lost to the world for .so many years. Oh! if its ancient walls could but speak and tell us of the old, old days when it was gay with all the pomp and splendor of Roman life! We came down the same way we went up, but we stopped at the observatory, where we saw the delicate instrument by means of which the people can tell when can erup- tion is about to occur. I was very glad I had made the acquaintance of Vulcan, but I should not care to repeat the experience. I am sure had I lived in the times when the gods were all powerful, Vulcan could never have lured me to come and live with him in this terrible and gloomy palace. MARY E. SANDERS, 1903- 2 O I

Page 23 text:

much the same manner as usual, yet I could not but feel that I was dependent on this man and that he knew it, though his words might be pleasi-ng. As soon as I could ex-H tricate my hands from his, I hastened with great agitation to my apartment, where, after a few tears, I became silently calmed, and I determined to write to- you for comfort and advice. In my trouble, dear friend, remember me, Yourloving Clarissa. GERTRUDE JONES, ,99. ' i fkf-1 . til letter jfrom Quebec. DEAR MAMMA: ' ' we arrived in Quebec this morning and have taken a drive around the city. It is a very quaint old place, mostly inhabited by the French. Some of the roads are paved with wood and are only wide enough to permit one carriage to drive through. The houses do not have lawns, but open right on the street. I . A After we had driven around the old part of the town, we drove up a steep hill where the modern part of the city is' built. On this high bluff stands the Hotel Frontenac, overlooking the broad St. Lawrence and the hills on the other shore. It was a beautiful sight-the quaint city of Quebec below, the faint misty blue of the Adiron- dacks in the distance, the blue sky beyond, and the clear waters of the St. Lawrence winding in and out. , As we drove through the streets, with beautiful homes on both sides, we came to the small house in which Montgomery died. Afterwards we saw his grave, which is marked by four large cannon balls. Then we drove to the Citadel, an old English fort. There is wall after wall before you reach the inner part of the fort, so if the enemy forces the soldiers to retreat, they can get behind the next wall. Finally we reached the large gate and had to get out of the carriage. 'The guides are English soldiers who live in the fort. They dress somewhat like our soldiers, with the exception of the hats, which are little round affairs worn on the left side of their heads. The fort is in a fine position, on the very. edge of the bluff overlooking the river. A can- non is always fired at sunrise, at noon, and at sunset. r One thing that interested me greatly was a small cannon, captured by the British at the battle of Bunker Hill. I will write you again when we reach Montreal, so good-bye. Please .write me soon, as I long to hear from you. With a great deal of love, Your daughter. PAULINE MILLER, 1902. fkf-'1 HDQ Grip up We left our hotel at Naples about nine o'clock in the morning, and rattled along crooked streets which werethronged with the carts of vegetable venders crying their wares, idle Italians were everywhere bask- ing in the sun, while here and there a healthy lad might be seen devouring a huge head of lettuce with evident enjoyment. Hlbt. wesuvius. Now and then we passed a herd of goats which came scampering by, jingling their tiny bells, ready to stop before any house where the good dame hailed their owner for a glass of milk. Nearly every street con- tained a macaroni shop, and here the street was filled with long poles on which that famous Italian delicacy hung drying. Groups 1 9 .

Page 25 text:

El Crip to Stoke Ilbogis. One pleasant morning in july we took a carriage from Slough to Stoke Pogis, a distance of two miles, and, as many others have thought and said, the Erst half mile was tarne and uninteresting. But when we came to a finger-board showing that it was three thousand Eve hundred and sixty-eight miles to the Great Home Store of E. R. Hull 81 Dutton, a home-like feeling came over us and immediately we became in- terested in the long narrow road through which we were driving, and in the tall fir trees with their low brancheslsweeping the ground and swaying in the morning breeze. A small stone lodge whichlseemed to be a resting place for flowers, was the first bit of antiquity to greet our eyes on our arrival at Stoke Pogis. We were directed to the old, almost forgotten lychgate, and from there we took our course through the paths Gray had trod in the little church- yard, where 'many' unknown heroes sleep. Close to the west wall of the church is Gray's tomb, but for which Stoke Pogis would be unknown. In the same tomb sleeps the mother whom he so much revered. We entered the church as a thief in the night, by going up a steep outside stairway to the belfry, a weird sort of a place, where withered funeral pieces hung, the scent and blush long since gone from the rose. We descended into the church, said to be seven hundred years old, and suggested to the sexton that an inscription be placed near the armorial bearings and escutcheons of the Penns, stating that the church was built in the eleventh century, that the new belfry and front wall were put in in 1267, new side walls and roof in I304, rear wall and foundation in 1420, new in- terior and decorations in 1500, and new pulpit and seats in 1570 in an effort to pre- serve the original church. Something like this must be the true history of a church seven hundred years old. In one corner of the church a pew was pointed out, where Gray used to sit beside his mother and long to use his pocket knife on the bench in front,--a feeling which he bravely restrained, as we looked in vain for his carving of UT. G. The boyish in- clination to carve his name on wood may have lain dormant, until years later it found expression when he inscribed his name on the golden Roll of Fame. . p ELIZABETH C. CAMPBELL, ,99. CN!-'D HU 'HDVGHIUYC of H 'umillfm' IEVCIIMQ. One cold winter evening late in Decem- ber, when the wind was howling dismally outside and the logs were crackling cheerily in the grate within, I sat curled up in a large arm chair absorbed in one of Scott's fascinating novels. Every now and then a huge blast of wind swept past the door, rattling the shutters and windows. Even the old black cat purring among the cushions in the corner jumped down upon the rug in front of the grate and nestled about my feet, seeming to be very glad of my company. 2I The snow had fallen steadily for nearly the whole day, and now it lay banked up in gigantic drifts on each side of the walk. I was all alone in the house, excepting the maids and a young friend who was visiting me. She also was deeply absorbed in read- ing. Suddenly I heard a low sound. But I only shook myself and tried to be inter- ested in my book. Scarcely had my hero achieved his highest honor, when I heard it again, this time very distinctly. It was a long, low groan, seeming to come from just