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

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THE ECHO. to sit in seats where once you sat, will be animated by a spirit of emulation to attain to that which you shal! have helped to make “a meed of honor.” What a sermon! But you have grown to expect sermons from me, haven’t you? it would not seem natural if I did not preach to you, weuld it? But now has come whai I have, after all these years, to add— My Benediction When in the years that are to come, You scan these pages, on by one, And think of ail that’s written here, Or you and all your class-mates dear ; Then count the changes time has wrought The many lessons life has taught; i trust whatever you recall In which you've been concerned at all Vill make you feel that you have been A credit to June, 1G10. Ill watch vour lives from year to year, Your lives to me will still be dear; Remember what you owe your school, You'll find it in the Golden Rule; Good-bye! God biess you, every one! Long life! Success! And now, I’ve done. NORTH DEVON, ENGLAND I had enjoyed a most beau- tiful summer in England, in fact it was the loveliest season they had had for some time. All the sights Cr) of London we had seen— Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the great Museum, London Tower, and the many other places of interest; and in the middle of September we started on a trip through North Devon. We took a typical English train from Waterloo, a station, which, when it is com- pleted, will be the greatest in the world, covering eight acres of ground. It is said that one train leaves Waterloo every three minutes, and certainly there is a very tan- gled looking net-work of lines, stretching in all directions from this great building. There are very few corridor trains in Eng- land, such as we have in America, the usual type being a low train, each car of which is divided into six separate compartments, of three different grades—first, second and third class—opening on the side, and con- taining two long seats, opposite each other. We were fortunate to have a compartment to ourselves most of the way from Waterloo to Barnstaple. The first principal place through which we passed was Salisbury. From our car window we could see a glimpse of Salisbury Cathedral with its spire, which is the high- est in England. Passing out of the town, we went through undulating country, where great sweeping fields, herds of sheep with their shephe rds, and clusters of thatch-roofed cottages could be seen. The next important town was ixeter, the capital of Somersetshire. In the middle of the afternoon we arrived at Barnstaple, and after waiting there for about half an hour we took a very small, narrow- gauge train, which took us through a moun- tainous region and deposited us finally in Lynton, where we took an ancient “bus to the “Valley of Rocks’ Hotel,” which is sit- uated on the cliffs overlooking the Bristol channel. We were told that if we took the chff walk we would probably be able to see a beautiful sunset, and we were no tdisap- pointed. Taking a path. which wound along the cliffs many feet above the water, we stopped at a convenient rustic seat and en- joyed the beauty of the scenery around us. Just in back of us rose the cliffs, covered with the bright pink heather blossoms. To our left rose “Castle Rock,’ much resem- bling its name, as it stood out against the sunset sky. Below us we could see the picturesque village of Lynmouth, with its pretty harbor and quaint old houses. Then, stretching out in front, the blue waters of the Bristol channel, and the sun-setting at

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THE ECHO. TO THE CLASS OF JUNE, ’10 3y Miss O'Meara My Girls and Mv Boys :— Tomorrow has come! You all are gone! And | sit in the old schoolroom, looking at the rows of vacant chairs. Happy children! You are free! You went laugh- ing out the south door, whistling out the north door. What will you do with your freedom? I wonder. And there are others that wonder. You gone, | still sit looking at the empty chairs. JT wonder what I have taught you. Books? Perhaps. To read, to write, to speak gcod English? I have tried to teach vou these things. But neither you nor I know what [ have taught you, what you have learned. Only as you live, shall vou and I be able to tell that. There is only one thing in all this world that is worth learning. Some of you, perhaps, will re- member that John Grey, the schoolmaster, long ago on that day he bade a last good- bye to his little school in far-away Ken- tucky, told those he had taught and loved what that one thing is. “This is the last and the best thing I have to say to you. It sounds very plain and common, but I have nothing better to tell you because there is nothing better to tel! Thot is ” Be Good what I have tried to teach you. You have talked much, you have written much in my ciass-room, but that training will be of volue to you only so far as it will cause you to have the courage to cham- pion all that is right and to attack all that is wrong, wherever and whenever you may eee either. You have read much in my class-room but that reading has been of value only so far as it wil! cause vou to read what is worth reading, hereafter. But mere reading of what is good is of no value if nothing more than absorption results. Reading should suggest thoughts—thoughts should produce acts. It is action that counts in life. “By their deeds, ye shall know them.” There is nothing more useless to this world than the individual that is inactive through lack of effort. There is nothing more valuable io this world than the active man of the right sort. And remember that this world is, after all, a good world and a happy world. We hear much in these days of “the wickedness of this sintul world.” But do not think about the wicked things-—keep your thoughts on the good things, for those are the things to keep in mind; then there will de no room for the others. Do all you can io lift things upward, then there will be ro need to trample anything underfoot. Keep looking up toward the sun and the stars. [It is the bright sunlight that keeps the world alive and beautiful and happy. It is such a good thing to be happy, to carry a lieht heart and help the world to smile— even through its tears. To be happy; that means to be honest, to be kind, to be brave; that means getting and giving all that lite has worth getting and giving. We get out of life just what we put into it. 2) Have I taught you these things? Have [I helped you to put in the best that you may get out the best? Have I taught you hat you should get out the best not just for you—for yourself, but for others? When you went out the school-room doors into the wide world standing with open arms to greet you, the old school still stood vehind you. It will always stand behind you. You have passed beyond its portals— vou are graduates. But vou are still mem- vers of it as alumni. Do not forget that. Do not forget that it is the alunmni that h inust maintain the standard of a school. Be oval alumni. And year by year, as the alumni gather to add new classes to old ones, come to meet the old ones and to ereet the new ones. Be active in fostering a lovalty to such an association and strive to create for it a value such that those who come to tread the steps that you have trod,

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THE ECHO. the horizon, sending out its last many-col- ered rays, and tinting the fleecy clouds above, before it sunk below the waters. The following morning we decided to go to “ Watersmeet,” two and a half miles from Lynmouth. We reached Lynmouth by a steep, winding path down the hill-side. Lyn is derived from the Saxon word “hlynna,” or turrent, hence Lynton is the town of, and Lynmouth the mouth of the Lyn, or torrent. Lynmouth was originally a small village, the inhabitants depending for their liveli- hood on the sale of cured herrings. The earliest establishment of a herring fishery there appears to have arisen from the in ducement offered by the abundance of the herrings, to some Dutch fisherman, about the middle of the sixteenth century. After exploring this old village, we pr¢ ceeded 1p the river Lyn, following its banks through luxuriant woods, and passing many pretty cottages, nestling among the trees, until we came to the well-named spot, “Waters- meet,’ where two streams meet and become one. Up the stream, to the right, is the great water slide, made famous by the ex- pense and is probably the longest and ploits of John Ridd, the hero of “Lorna Doone,” the world-known novel by Black- more, when he was escaping from Carver Doone. This part of North Devon is known as the “country of the Doones.” When we returned to Lynmouth, we de- cided not to walk back to Lynton by the steep path by which we had come down, but to take what is called the “Lift,” or the Cliff Railway. This was built at great ex- pense and is probably the lolngest and steepest of its kind in the world. It is forty- five per cent grade and the length is nine hundred feet. It is worked by water, which pours into the tank under the car, when it is at the top of the cliff, and is emptied when it reaches the bottom. There are two cars, connected by an endless steel rope running on the wheels at the top and bottom of the rail. Hence the water pouring into the tank of the top car provides the necessary extra weight to hoist the car from the foot as it proceeds on its downward journey. That afternoon we took a walk through what is known as the “Valley of Rocks,” and it is certainly well named, for all over the valley are queer shaped piles of rocks, which look as if Nature had been making a huge garden somewhere, and had taken all the rocks she had gotten out of it and had dumped them from her apron in piles all over this valley. There is one, almost perpendicular, column of rocks, which is called the “Devil’s Cheese-wring”’; the rea- son for this queer title is unknown. 1, j The following morning we took a car- riage and went for a drive. One of the points of interest which we saw was Morte Hfoe Church. This church, though small, is full of interest to the lover of the an- tique. Much of the carving on the pews, which is most beantiful, is as old as the church itself, although much has been ad- ded from time to time. One of the prin- cipal features is an old tomb, which is said to be that of William de Tracey, one of the murderers of Thomas A. Becket; the date of its erection is given as 1170, and it is hewn out of solid rock. From Lynton we went to Ilfracombe, a large town also on the coast. We drove there in an old-time coach, with the seats for the passengers on top as well as inside, and drawn by four horses, the driver of which wore a high, white, silk hat, and the euard, as we went along, wound his horn and played some old ttnes, such as “Buy a Broom,” and made us feel very much as if we might be living a century or two ago. s the coach bowled along, children follow- ed, and turned handsprings and “summer- salts” in the hope of getting some of our extra pennies. We passed through Comb- martin, a village consisting of one street a mile long. There is an old church at Comb- martin, dedicated to St. Peter, and built in the earlv English style. Within are some interesting remains of old carving, but it is chiefly interesting because it is the scene of the plot of Marie Corelli’s “Mighty Atom.”