Reading Memorial High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Reading, MA)

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18 THE PIONEER. Henry Lawes, the foremost composer of that time. Ilis daily recreation was the hour spent at his organ or bass-viol, and we know that listening to beautiful singing was his delight. Ilis biographers say that during a visit to Italy, the first great opera singer the world had ever known, made her debut there. Milton was so enthusiastic over her lovely voice, that he wrote some Latin verses and dedicated them to her. It was the musician in Milton that gave that unfailing perfection to the rhythm of his verse. It was the musician that guided his pen when he wrote this beautiful passage. “And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus’ self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto to have quite set free His half-regained Eurydice.” (“L’Allcgro”) For Milton, music “Drew iron tears down Pluto ’s cheeks, (“II Penseroso.”) It is a significant fact that the myth of Orpheus is his favorite, being mentioned more often than any other. In the following passage he pays a still higher tribute to melody; “There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me in to ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes.” (“II Penseroso.”) Even Comus, the personification of all that is low and bad, speaks of the notes of the Lady’s song in this way : “How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled.” (“Comus.”) In the Pagan Heaven, the Muses “Aye around about Jove’s altar sing,” And in the Christian paradise the “Saints above, Sing, and singing in their glory move.” Music in Heaven seems natural, but Milton cannot deprive even the fallen angels of that blessing. “Others, more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp. Their song was partial; but the harmony (What could it less when spirits immortal sing?) Suspended hell and took with ravishment The thronging audience.” (Paradise Lost.) No poet ever needed all the solace that music could bring to him more than Milton. Solitary in his greatness, disappointed in his cherished ideals for his country, without the love that should have surrounded him at times, what com¬ fort the blind poet must have taken in the har¬ monies that needed no eyes to help him find their mcanirng, or to feel the soothing charm of their sympathy. Lula Scott ’01. Character Development in George Eliot’s “Adam Bede ’ “Silas Marner”, and “The Mill on the Floss ’ In human nature, characters never remain the same throughout their existence, but are influenced and changed by circumstances and incidents. Vet many years passed before this fact was grasped by novelists. The early writ¬ ers chose different types of character. These were very interesting and beautiful, but the writers did not follow human nature far enough to introduce character development — it was char¬ acter drawing. When George Eliot wrote, character development was not numbered among the requirements of a novel, as it is to-day. However, she was too true a student of human life and too much interested in its development not to notice that any new circumstances set the mind to work on new thoughts, and that these thoughts influence the character greatly. For this reason, the different people of her books argue with themselves and reason in i i

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THE PIONEER. 17 l ■ ■ — ' ■■■ Wh en the trees have been in the nursery from two to three years, and are nearly four feet high, they are sold to be planted about twenty feet apart in groves. Some growers cover the ground with leaves and cultivate only a circle of about eight feet around the trees, but this method is practiced very little. The com¬ mon method is to cultivate ail the land but a strip about eight feet wide, between the trees, and to plough this under in October, so that no grass will grow on it through the winter. If no grass were allowed to grow during the sum¬ mer on the land, the sun would soon draw all the strength out of it. Oranges flourish on a sandy soil and those grown in Florida are considered the best in the world. The trees are thorny and grow to be larger than the largest northern pear-trees. They bear in about seven years after they are set. The orange tree blooms about February, although the time varies with the season. It is a beautiful but rare sight to see the white blossom, the half-grown orange and the golden fruit on the tree at the same time. The oranges are picked from ladders, — forty boxes is con¬ sidered a fair day’s work. The price paid for picking is three cents a box. When picked, the russet or scaly oranges are put in one box, and the bright ones in another. The fruit is taken to the packing houses, where it is put in the sizer, which is a broad shallow box about eight feet from the floor, and large enough to hold about ten boxes. It has two troughs running out from it, on each side of which are small cords which are kept moving, like the bands of a machine by a darkey, who sits by the sizer and sees that the oranges go down n the right position. In the troughs, which are just wide enough for one orange to roll down, are little holes so cut that the fruit of a certain size goes into them. Thus, the oranges, which, when packed, will run a hundred and tifty to a box, go into one hole; those which will run two hundred and fifty, in another, while those that will run a hundred and thirty, go into still another. hen the oranges drop through the openings, they fall into boxes, the bottoms of which are cloth. Around these stand the packers, who wrap the oranges in tissue paper and pack them in crates to be shipped North. As they pack, they throw out the oranges which are not fit to ship. A good packer can prepare seventy-five boxes per day, for each of which he is paid three cents. The fruit is generally sold to commission merchants, while still on the trees, at from one dollar and seventy-five cents to two dollars and one-half per box. It is needless to say that the number of oranges shipped from Florida is not one twen¬ tieth what it was before the freeze of ’ninety- five, nor is it likely to be so large for four or five years yet. T. A. Chapman, ’02. MUSIC IN MILTON. In the literature of every age, music has furnished a theme for poets, from the time when the ancients sang of Orpheus and the power of his lyre to move even the trees and rocks, until the present day with Browning’s “Toccato of Galluppi” and Kipling’s “Banjo Song.” This is not strange, since Music and Poetry are sister arts, united by the close ties of harmony and rhythm. Can you think of a true poet who was not susceptible to the influence of music? “Music hath charms to sooth the savage breast.” IIow much more, then, the sensitive heart of a poet. Yet poets have differed very much in the prominence they have given music in their verses. Music ordinarily means so much more to warm, emotional natures than to those of the opposite type, that we may well be surprised to And so much love for it and such frequent allusions in the verses of the Puritan poet, John Milton. I do not think many realize how much music there was in this man, who outwardly seemed so reserved, so cold, so unflinching in his devotion to duty. This love of music was inherited from his father, who made a name for himself as a composer. During Milton’s residence at IIor» ton, he used to make trips to London to concerts and operas, and he numbered among his friend

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THE PIONEER. 19 their minds about every new incident. So we are much more interested in how the theft of his money will affect the character of Silas Mar- ner than in what became of the monev itself. Then, too, our attention is held by the effect caused on the mind and thoughts of Adam Bede by the wrongdoing of his before esteemed and much admired friend — Arthur Donnithorne. We wonder what change it will make in his character and George Eliot does not disap¬ point us ; she shows how it sobers him and dark¬ ens his view of life. Because she follows life so closely and por¬ trays many incidents of universal experience, we sympathize with the characters we meet in her books. None of us fails to understand how the Poyser family spoiled Totty, for often in our own experiences we see a family indulgent toward the youngest of the household and this petted child we see develop into a selfish woman. To all of us New Englanders, Dolly Winthrop, the ever-ready nurse, comforter and helper for everybody of her acquaintance, is per¬ fectly familiar. We all have among our own friends a “Dolly Winthrop,” always willing to help. And because we know what good our kind friend does for us, we easily understand how «■ Sil as Marner was helped by the sympathy and kindness of Dolly Winthrop. These different book-people really seem like new friends and grow and develop before us like real individuals. r e unconsciously admire Dinah Morris and, if we are girls, choose her as an ideal, as she grows into a strong woman in the midst of poverty and discouragement. We long to comfort Adam Bede in his despair, and to be¬ friend Silas Marner in his loneliness. We know what effect loneliness and despair will have upon them. The characteristics of these friends un¬ fold and change before us without the author once saying “here she changed” or “such and such characteristics were changed.” We know all their thoughts and we see the change occur as a result of these. We follow Hetty Sorrel, and we do not see how she could change in any other way than from a simple-minded girl to a trouble-worn fugitive. So we sympathize with her because we know just what thoughts and reasons in her own mind led her to do wrong. George Eliot so presents her hero or hero¬ ine that we often see all the other characters through their eyes and feel the same towards them as does the hero or heroine. This is especially true in “Adam Bede;” we love Hetty as Adam loves her; we feel just as impatient towards Lisbeth ; we respect Mr. Irwine just as much; and we have the same attitude towards Dinah. Likewise in “Silas Marner” we love Eppie just as much as Silas himself did. The child characters of George Eliot’s novels are most beautifully and carefully por¬ trayed. Eppie, in “Silas Marner,” though not the principal character, is the heroine of the story and the saviour of Silas Marner. She is presented to us with such delicate touches, that it is almost impossible to believe the author was never a mother. At the very first a charming picture is given to us of this little gold¬ en haired baby toddling through the snow after the bright ray of light. Her shawl is trailing behind and her bonnet hanging down her back. Surely only a great lover of children could have written this. Then, too; the little incident of baby’s wet shoes and the interest she took in her tiny feet, when the shoes were removed, shows the charming childishness of this mother¬ less baby. The love of mischief was manifested by Eppie when she cut the band of cloth she was tied with and ran away when “dad-dad” wasn’t looking. This roguishness is also shown by the utter lack of impression that the confine¬ ment in the coal-hole made upon her. As she grows older, her love for Silas grows stronger and stronger. In this feeling, she does not once think that she ever had a father other than Silas. By this tribute to her adopted par¬ ent, she also shows in her own character, deep trust, affection and gratitude towards the man who has taken care of her for so long. Very different from Eppie, is Maggie Tulliver, the heroine of “The Mill on the Floss.” Maggie is rebellious, impulsive, passionate and loving. Everything about her seems to go a little too far in one direction. When she loves, she loves