Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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16 THE GOLDEN-ROD winter at the wildest and fiercest times, it is not unusual for the thermometer to drop to thirty and forty degrees below. Many times snow falls for days, and people in the remote parts are snowed in—the house and barn almost covered. The Canadian snow is quite different from the New England snow. It is dry and crisp, and when ground by bob-sleigh runners, seems to sing. Sometimes the snow is so white and bright, it is blind- ing. One of the most beautiful and unusual sights of a Canadian winter is the North- ern Lights. In January or February of an intensely cold year, the sky at night is lighted up for hundreds of miles by scintilating, colored roads of light from the North Pole crossing and recrossing themselves in the sky. It is difficult to clearly describe this wonderful sight and, until you have actually seen it, you can never realize how truly beautiful it is. Another queer thing is the sun-dogs. Just before a cold spell of weather, the sun has, on either side of it, a great pillar of golden light. The sun itself is hazy, but the two sun-dogs show up quite distinctly and present a rather queer phenomenon. I have tried to tell you briefly of Cana- da but even now, perhaps, some of you don’t think it is beautiful and fine. It may not be to those who have never been there, but to those who have lived in and loved Canada, I doubt if there is a more interesting or fascinating country. A PERFECT COMMUNITY Arthur Donovan, J.’28 As I rode by this perfect community, village, or whatever it might be called, I seemed to feel the strength of the buildings, the perfect formation of the community. Here there was no chance to stray from the straight and narrow path, no pool rooms, cheap dance halls, or other methods by which one could be led astray. In contrast, every member seemed to be busily at work, some in the streets .working as unskilled laborers, others in various buildings working at machines. These workmen all wore working suits made from a striped material. In the main building men were busily at work over their desks. These men were dressed differently from the workmen in the streets and at the machines. They seemed also to have a happier method of going about their work. A third class of workmen did not seem to be doing any special kind of work, just parading up and down the streets, holding instruments on their shoulders. These men were dressed in an entirely different manner from the others. The high tower in the center of the group of buildings suggested ancient times. With this tower as an outlook, one could scan the horizon for foes. But this could not be one of the ancient strongholds as the stone was of very modern appearance. At the side of these gloomy buildings was a bright sparkling river which went sailing by without a pause. A loud shrieking whistle brought my meditation to a close, and I observed the men forming in single file, each man having his hand on the shoulder of the man immediately in front of him. They were coming in my direction. I gazed intently at their faces. Instead of cheer- ful, happy expressions, I saw hard, gloomy, disappointed, sad, and down- hearted expressions stamped on their faces. One would never expect this from contented workmen. They turned and entered the largest and gloomiest build- ing I have ever seen, and were soon swallowed completely by it. Although the building itself was of modern archi- tecture, the very thought of entering it made me shudder. I had seen enough and was just about to move on when I was greeted by a hearty-looking man who asked me if I wished to visit the community. When he saw that I looked surprised, he in- formed me that he was Warden Stevens and that he had complete charge of Sing Sing Prison. Thus, I made a visit to Sing Sing as a guest, not a member; I hope never as a member.

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THE GOEDKN-ROD 15 already begun another day's work. The women kept little shops, and the men worked on the estates. Finally arriving at the school, 1 left the horse in the yard and went to my classroom. When I first started in the school, 1 had a hard time before learn- ing Spanish. Before leaving Bolivia, I mastered Spanish and learned a few words of English. I had many adven- tures in Bolivia, but was not sorry when I left it to come to the United States. WESTERN CANADA Avice Morton, J .’30 Until one has lived in or visited West- ern Canada he can never truly appreciate the wild beauty of that country. When I was seven years old I lived in a very sparsely populated part of Sas- katchewan. The country was inhabitated only by Indians and a few white people. The nearest town, of any importance, was twenty miles away, and in the west, in those days, and today, too, twenty miles was about three times the distance it is now with automobiles. Western Canada in spring, summer, autumn, or winter is always wide, open, and picturesquely beautiful. I do not mean beauty which has lovely hills, bab- bling brooks, and colorful gardens, but 1 do mean the kind of beauty that has wild, spacious plains, rough-rolling prai- rie and miles and miles of uninhabited country. Let me tell you briefly of West- ern Canada during the four seasons. In the spring, when the heavy snows and blizzards of winter have passed, and the prairie takes on a new life, what is so inspiring as miles and miles of slightly rolling country covered with new, green grass and lovely wild croci ? Many times have I sat upon a slight hill, surrounded by these sweet, wild flowers, and seen for miles a picture of fresh life and beauty. The small clusters of trees, the ragged brush, the willow and popular bluffs, and the very air itself seems so gloriously alive. As the summer approaches, with its hot, withering sun, the prairie takes on a brownish, burnt tinge. The trees are darker and flowers are found only in the shaded coulees and deep, grassy spots. The young wheat, thrusting its way up- ward gradually turns to gold, and in the warm breeze, it looks for all the world like a sea of rippling waves. A real Canadian summer is hot and scorching and unless one is used to the heat, he had better stay away. Work for everyone, whether he be in held or kitchen, is hard. The farm help must be fed, and the homestead women slave from early morning 'till late at night, cooking, ever cooking. It is a strenuous life throughout the entire year but es- pecially so during the harvesting time in August. The wheat fields, by this time, are fully grown and their golden heads are bent. Throughout the very short time needed to reap, bind, stack, dry, gather, and thrash the wheat, extra help is hired, and each and every one works feverishly in order to get the crop har- vested before the cold evenings shall start in and the growth and labor of months be ruined in a single night. One can go for miles and miles and miles through the west and see nothing but wheat. Here and there, perhaps, will be a homestead, but otherwise the monotony remains unbroken. The autumn is very colorful. The trees, caught by an early frost, present every hue and tint of the artist’s paint box, and the grass, burnt by the summer’s heat, is but a mass of brownish, curled strands. The a:r is still hot, but the evenings are chilly. It is at this time of year that the crops, providing they have had a poor summer, often get caught and ruined by a sudden change of weather, which brings unexpected hail and snow. Thousands of dollars are lost, some years, by such tricks of Nature and to the farmers, dependent upon the crops, it means ruin and poverty for the com- ing winter. You have often heard, or read, of the twenty degree below zero weather of Canada. It is quite true, and in the

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Education is just like a Toonerville Trolley running along an endless and somewhat bumpily irregular track. This track is especially bumpy for those who “don’t understand physics,” or “can’t get geometry.” If the car is crowded, you put up with inconveniences, and are thankful for a strap to which to trust your precious bones until the crowd begins to thin out (as when you enter Senior High). Here as everywhere else arc found self- ish people—the lady with a baby who pays one fare and appropriates two seats (the parasitic scholar) and the person who “squeezes in” and makes room where none is to be found, together bring you to the boiling point. At the next stop so many get on that the last few make the position of others precarious, this almost inevitably result- ing in a fall (as the generous, kind, older brothers and sisters go to work to send their brothers and sisters to school). Gradually, as you get further away from the starting point, the crowd thins out, so and so gets car sick and has to stop at his aunt’s house awhile. When you reach your station, let’s hope that you get there early enough so as not to have to run for the train of success, and. when the skipper brings in the next load, you should be well on your way. Sidney Fox. Feb. '31. CLUB DAY In Quincy High there are many clubs of various natures, clubs for those of English, sciences, social, musical, or ar- gumentative leanings. Many of the Soph- omores and even some of the- upper class- men are unfamiliar with the nature and requirements of these various organiza- tions. To awaken or arouse the greater interest of the many who, hitherto, have shown no particular appreciation of their value, a club day to be held in the form of an assembly, is suggested. Approxi- mately ten minutes would be given to each club to present itself to the audi- ence in the most entertaining and profit- able way. In this manner would all be- come better acquainted with the various beneficial associations in our midst. R. C. THE NARROW PATHWAY Again the straight and narrow path- way must be observed! It has been easy during the winter months, when the ground was frozen to cut across lawns in your hurry either to get to, or away from school. No great objections were heard. Now that spring is on its way and the ground is softening, you must keep to the side walks of the city and of the school. When you amble across pri- vate lawns at the present time, great will