Newport High School - Blunita Yearbook (Newport, PA)

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XTbc Blue ant wabitc. 11 THE CHURCHYARD AT STOKE-POGIS 'HE CHURCHYARD AT Stoke-Pogis, immortalized by Gray's Elegy, is the very dwelling place of peace. This quiet, picturesque spot is situated In England, and is as beautiful a picture as any artist might wish to paint. I made my way to this solemn spot late in the afternoon. The day wras one in early autumn, and the verdure was, as yet, green and flowering. To visit the scene of that beautiful poem, to view those “nodding elms,” to stand under the “yew-tree’s shade,” had long been the desire of my heart! 1 approached the church by a winding road, which seemingly endeavored to envelop me in a maze. My eagerness grew', each moment, more intense, and it was with great joy that 1 caught my first glimpse of the place. The road widened directly in front of the gate, and seemed almost to force one to the entrance. I entered the gate and gazed about me. The church stands at the right of the pathway, and it is surrounded by the yard, with here and there a tree or verdant shrub. The building wras in much the same condition as when Gray found it, with the exception of its spire. This latter is a modem addition, and seems to be regarded as an intruder by the ivy which covers the building, for the spire is entirely avoided by the clinging vine. Throughout the yard, memorials have been erected, to mark the resting places of people long forgotten. Some of these memorials are of w’ood, others of stone, but none shows signs of neglect. All seem to have been scattered there in that secret disorder which is the perfection of real loveliness. As I w'alked nearer the church, I noticed the place w’here Thomas Gray is buried. I paused for a moment, then proceeded into the church. The interior of the building, like the exterior, was in perfect repair. It has been kept thus without marring in the least its antique beauty. As a whole it had practically the same appearance it must have had many years ago. The benches, pulpit and desks were fashioned, probably by amateur carpenters’ hands, but w ith the greatest care and pains. The colored w indow panes lent a beautiful glow’ to the scene, and touched up the rough spots, producing a most pleasing effect. I left the church and lingered again on the turf winch “heaved in many a mouldering heap,” and allowed my mind to wander in revery for a few moments. I thought of the people buried ’neath my feet, and felt certain that each, in his own way, had done something to make the w’orld a little better. I recalled the poet. Gray, buried in the churchyard he

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10 Hbc Blue anfc 'QBlbite. dark-haired, brown-eyed, sweet-faced girl, clad in a stylish blue suit, had seen too much of what Joyce termed “blissful.” While withdrawing from the studio, she was thinking only of the things which Joyce was planning to give up. Joyce decided to ask her for some inside information, so timidly she approached and asked, “Oh, Miss Valera, may 1 speak to you for a few minutes? I—I have something important to ask you.” The actress, supposing that the child wished to become an actress, replied, “Yes, dear, indeed, you may. 1 am always willing to answer questions. Will you come with me to my apartment where we will be able to talk uninterrupted?” Joyce answered, “It is very kind of you. I am in town in my father’s roadster. Shall we go in it to your apartments?” After a short drive, during which neither spoke—the one being absorbed in deep thought, the other thrilled that she wras driving an actress through New York—they came to the former’s home. They entered the living room and after they had sat down, the actress opened the conversation. “My dear child, it is needless for you to tell me that you wrant to become a star. Already I have learned that much. I must confess that I, too, one day had that desire; if I, as one who talks from experience, may advise you, let me say that the life of a screen favorite is one of work and worry. Patience and perseverance are needed to succeed. The path is difficult. Each new butterfly is welcomed, but, alas, how' soon it is left to die! The best thing for a young girl, who has the opportunity, is to finish High school and then decide on an occupation. Your parents can, doubtless, help you decide what to do. I am very happy just now, because I have just succeeded in getting back to real life. Little girl, go home and finish school.” Joyce had been very thoughtful during this talk and when the actress had finished she rose and said. “I thank you very much for your advice. I didn’t wrant to go back to finish school; but, I think it will be best for me.” Joyce left the building and started home, a little disheartened that her ideal had not emphasized the lovely gowns, and the rich surroundings, and she didn’t offer to help Joyce! It was with a heavy heart that Joyce Jordon drove home to finish school. Little she knew that some day she would be thankful that her ideal had directed her thoughts along the right lines. Mr. Pthen—“What is an imaginary number?” Park—“A million dollars.”

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12 TLbe Blue anb “UUIMtc. had pictured so indelibly on the minds of his readers. He needs no monument but the place, no epitaph but the elegy. I do not know how long I stood by the poet’s tomb, but the slanting rays of the setting sun brought me to a realization of the lateness of the hour. After one lingering glance about me, I turned and left this hallowed place, which had impressed me so strongly, and which was to inspire me to greater efforts in life. I. M. D., ’21. EXCHANGES t DWARD! Edward! Edward Hale Jones! Where M-j are you ? Plague, take that boy. Edward Hale—you answer me this minute! Where is that boy?” “Edward Hale, you come—Merciful Heavens!! What was that? That boy will drive me frantic. Why, it’s Miss Perkins’ cat. O, there comes that young rapscallion, and his dog, too.” “Edward, why didn’t you answer? Quit chasin’ Miss Perkins’ cat.” “Was you callin’ me, ma?” “Certainly, do you think I was imitatin’ a canary bird. You go up to your brother’s room and get my broom. Hurry, now, or Miss Perkins will hear about you chasin’ her tom-cat.” “Women always wiiz funny. As if it would hurt that tom-cat.” “Gee, what are these things? Guess I’ll look at ’em. School papers, 1 guess. “ ‘Clipper’ from Du Bois. I wish there wuz more of them. “This is the ‘Lore’ from Lewistown. Them School Notes is dandy. The ‘Orange and Black’ from Jersey Shore had a good Alumni Department. Too bad that there isn’t more School Notes in the ‘Magnet.’ 0, here’s another ‘Magnet.’ November and December, I s’pose. Good stories in that one. The ‘Red and Blue' from Jenkintown has some dandy things in about school. The ‘High School Journal’ from Wilkes-Barre has some more good stories. The ‘Mountain Echo’ from Altoona has some good pictures at the beginning of everything. The ‘Jack O’Lantern’ and the ‘M. Unite’ and the ‘Argus’ and the ‘Torch’ from Houtzdale, Mount Union, Huntingdon and Doylestown are dandy papers and I wish there was more, and—” “Edward, you bring my broom here!”