Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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THE PORCUPINE Dionysius At the feet of the Doric columns in the Greek amphi- theater at Berkeley I had spent a pleasant half hour, idly wondering if the sky-roof above me was as blue as that provided for the Athenians, or if Zophocles and his fel- lows would feel at home in this edifice among the euca- lyptus trees. As I passed out at one of the wings I en- countered another visitor, who, though differing from the ordinary sight-seers, was certainly not out of har- mony with the place. He was a youth of twenty, per- haps, clad in tan and brown and all the awkwardness of unwonted Sunday clothes. His wondering gaze at the questions which the odd structure called forth revealed a mind whose lines were as simple and classic as those of the theater itself. “What is this thing here,” he asked. “This is the Greek amphitheater,” I replied, quite will- ing to place my superior knowledge at his disposal. “Oh, that’s it!’ he commented, trying to understand. “Something like what the Chinamen have?” He put this query cautiously, yet with the air of one who had seen some notable things before. “No; it’s like the theaters the Greeks had two or three thousand years ago.” Ile nodded and grunted, naively pretending to com- prehend. “Where is the place they call the university?” was the next question. Evidently he had wandered all over the campus and up into the woods in search of the fabulous institution. When I pointed in the direction of the build- ings he was obviously puzzled, but did not wish to show it. He reverted to the amphitheater, and, with a grin at the remembrance of his own simplicity, said: “T reckoned I'd find this full of water; it looked to me more like a tank or somethin’ than anything else.” “It does look like a tank,”I conceded, grudgingly— “like a mountain reservoir.” Inwardly I blamed my

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THE PORCUPINE 9 possession of three immaculate rain-coats, purchased for this very occasion, we braved the wildest day of all—and down by the lakes we went on a new and bright red jaunting car. Hours later, three tired, dripping tourists were wrung out before a hotel fire, while three once im- maculate rain-coats were vainly scrubbed to remove the evidences of that new and bright red jaunting car. And our voices rose in chorus as we said with our Irish friend, “The next time we take a new jaunting car, we won’t take a new jaunting car, but an old one—especially in the rain.” Now, on to Blarney Castle, where we climbed the moss- grown ruin, lying on our backs in the pouring rain and risking our several lives because, of course, we must touch that magie stone. On our way out, we probed the old, old Irishman at the gate for one of those rich Irish jokes of which we had so cften read. So, to open conver- sation, the bravest of the trio said: “You shouldn’t have it rain when we come to visit Blarney Castle.” Slowly the Irishman looked at us. Slowly— so slowly—his mouth opened, and he said as he turned on his heel, “Sure, mum, [ couldn’t help it.” The rest of the way we walk- ed in silence. rom Blarney our way again led Dublinward, but now by train, and while two advance hotel agents wild- ly gesticulated and harangued over our heads as to which hotel should have the honor of our humble patronage, we quietly studied our guide books and decided to take that night’s steamer back to England. Satisfied? Yes, indeed! for had we not seen “sunny Lreland ?”

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= — THE PORCUPINE II faculties for not having thought out the likeness before. “Bet it cost a heap 0’ money, all right,” he ventured. “Yes, probably several thousand dollars.” “Shouldn't wonder,” he assented, appraising the struc- ture with a single glance. “And they ain’t nothin’ to it, neither—nothin’ but sand and rock.” “And cement,” I suggested. I really felt it my duty to make out as good a case as possible for the edifice which is the pride of Berkeley. “Oh, yes, cement,” he grunted liberally. Then feeling that he was on familiar terms with the place, he essayed to walk along the stage to the farther exit. In spite of his efforts to appear unconscious, his manner suggested doubt as to whether the floor was substantial. Neyer- theless, he was as Doric as the columns, Compared with him, all others who have appeared on that stage were sophisticated Corinthians. AA Sonnet to the Frog--Biology II You lumpy, croaking, helpless little thing! Say, did you leave your oozing haunts to bring Us tidings of your pleasant native sphere? Why do you gaze around you in such fear? And why your wobbling legs around you fling? You spread them out as though you would take wing. 3ut no, you cannot, for I need you-—dear, % % % % = Oh, yes! you poor old thing, you well may sigh! [needs must know the way that you are built, And consequently, froggy, you must die. I hope I shall not have to cause you pain— And yet I kill you, thinking not of guilt, lor your sad loss is science’s great gain.