Hathaway Brown School - Specularia Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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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

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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

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outside the window that opened UPOU the porch. I closed the book with a btlflgv T056 and Dol-:ed the fire, drew my Chalf nearer to my friend, and tried to start a conversa- tion, but in vain, for again I Ileafd the 10W wail, this time nearer and more distinct. I could endure it no longer. I jL1I11Ped to my feet, resolving not to be a coward, whatever :night befall me. I quietly walked over to the window, jerked open the old fashioned shutters, and. bracing myself, lOOk6Cl out. I saw nothing but the starless heavens, the swaying branches of tl1e elms, and the faint glimmer of the moon. For a 1nO111CD'i I forgot myself in watching the weird beauty of the scene. But suddenly I was quivering with excitement, for a long, dark object lay at my feet on the other side of the window pane. I know not why, but I could not look down at it, much as I longed to. A11 of the horrible, ghostly tales which I had lately been reading flashed through H157 mind. While I stood staring out into the darkness, visions of some poor person over- Come by the cold, who had fallen on my doorstep, came before me. Summoning all my courage, I wrapped myself in an Indian blanket, opened the door, and, feeling the cold rush of air in my face, stepped out. I steadied myself for a moment, then knelt and felt of the ghastly object. Something warm and soft touched my hand. I shud- dered! It moved. A cover fell back, and there-there was only our big Newfound- land,iRomp, wrapped up in the door mat! SUE I-IARMAN, 1903. CAA1 . lborace Zltllalpole. . The eighteenth century in England will always he au interesting period for students of literature. It is the age of johnson, Coldsurth, Richardson, Fielding, and many other Ruuous literati g but Horace Walpole, the well known literary gossip and great gentleman of the land,-greatest, according to his own opinion, considered them entire- ly beneath his royal notice. Walpole was horn in London September 23, 1717. the fourth sou of that famous Sir Robert Walpole. whose admirable pru- dence. litlelity, and success did so much for lil!!-Zlltll P1'0SPCl'il5'. His mother was Catherine Shorter. who claimed Dryden for her great uncle. Of his childhood very little is known: we hear that his godmother was his beautiful aunt, Dorothy Vtlalpole, and that he was inoculated for smallpox in 1724. Probably the most interesting event of. his early life was his visit to the king X? hen he was' about ten he tells us, in Chapter I. of his Reminiscensesf' that he had a great desire to inspect His Majesty in consequently his mother obtained permission for him to kiss King George's hand, although it was a most unusual request even for a Prime Minister's wife. He was educated at Eton and King's College. It was at Eton that he-formed the friendship for Thomas Gray, with whom later he traveled on the Continent until a separation was necessitated by some mis- understanding, causing estrangement until years later. Then Walpole was generous enough to own that he had been entirely in the wrong. Through his fatheris influ- ence he obtained a number of valuable sinecures, which made' him independently rich throughout his life. ' But we can not think long of Walpole without thinking, too, of Strawberry Hill at Twickenham. In 1748 Walpole puf- chased the villa, paying f,'I,356, los. for it. He tells us that in looking over some Old deeds he found that the ground on which it stood had been originally called Straw- berry Hill-Shot. Consequently he named 22