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

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THE ECHO 21 so and so at the last party, and who fell in the creek at the school picnic. Her presence very much enlivens the conversation among us, and [| find that there is not one who does not speak of her as that sort of person who is usually called a happy, intelligent and fascinating person. [ cannot tell whether I am to account her of whom I am next to speak, as exactly one of the faculty, due to my better understand- ing of her as a relative, although when I do describe her as such, [ can base my obseryations upon a careful understanding of her characteristics. She is a mathematician, a very precise woman, one who strongly inclines to her own opinion, and is slightly co- quettish. She has the misfortune to be of a weak constitution and is hard pressed by accepting the cares and responsibilities of her duty as class adviser. She seldom introduces the subject of her teaching. She is a blonde of willowy form with eyes that resemble that pretty blue wildflower that one may see in the green ineadow in spring. This young lady may be found either in a seven passenger Studebaker or in a spacious white mansion on Wright treet. When she is among us she seems to fall on some interest- ing subject which she treats with authority. These are some of the members of the faculty with whom I come in contact John Stump, 20. Within the Echo office did I sit, ttending to the flow of brilliant wit, When in did come the First Assistant fair And sit herself forlornly in a chair. “Now,” quoth she, “a poem is my behest, And since I have requested all the rest. To no avail, ’tis you I order now To write a poem.” And she made a bow, Then lo! she smiled! “lwas such a smile that launched a thousand ships; Twas such a smile that played on Cleo’s lips, So how couid J, a mortal weak and frail, Against the witching of the smile prevail? Twould be a creature cold and hard to bend That to her smile no little warmth would lend: And so have I been trying all the night Some semblance of a little poem to write, And here it is! —F. L. F. ’1o9. LINES TO THE ASSOCIATE EDITOR

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tHE ECHO She knows English to such a degree that no matter what question she is asked she answers with the ability and knowledge of an en- cvclopedia. The lady I am next to speak of is another English teacher, who is a member of the imposing household of Miss ugusta Collett She is a woman of great probity, and wit and understanding. She has undertaken the study of the entire field of English and has made a specialty of the prominent figures of the past. Addison and Steeie are better understood by her than Annie Laurie and O. ITenry The boys present at every Monday night session, question her concerning the dramas such as Shakepeare’s, novels, like those of Sir Walter Scott, and the unraveling of the latest war movies at the “Cline,” all of which she answers with the wisdom of Minerva. Moreover she is studying the psychology of each individua! pupil. She knows the correct postures to suggest to each of the members of the public speaking class who are anxious to appear as the star at the Greek Theatre. Her taste ot books is abreast of the age, for she is constantly reading many, and as a result of that wide reading, is able to make good selection for her pupils Next to Miss Orral Matchette. I turn to Miss Lydia Walker, a woman of great courage, good understanding, but invincible mod- estv. Among her supreme talents is her ability to sing and her sweet voice adds greatly to the church services every Sunday morning. She was born in I’rance, where she spent a considerable part of her time, later coming to America. I have never heard her remark of any inclination to return to the land of her birth. However, she has chosen as her profession the spreading of her native tongue She is small of stature and smiles sweetly, how- ever we are inclined to believe that her mental capacity occupies the greater part of her smail figure. But that our faculty may not appear a set of “matter of fact’ people, unacquainted with the pleasures of the age, we have among us the jovial Miss Fisher, a teacher, who, on account of personal magnetism, had the duty of Student Adviser bestowed upon her. She is tall, somewhat stout, (and like all stout people, is good natured). When not teaching she resides at her country home at Penryn, but when she is correcting English papers you will be sure to find her at the abode of Mrs. Watson on Mendoci no avenue. She is ready with humorous stories, which all of us thoroughly enjoy. She can smile when one speaks to her, and laughs easily. She knows the history of every pupil and can inform you who have a tendency to study and who have acquired the habit of “bluffing.” As other women of her age can tell you what the prevailing fashions are she can tell you the latest Kolb and Dill jokes, who danced with

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THE ECHO FOR OLD GLORY ( Third Award) Their shades brood o’er it, For they love it still—- XTRA, EXTRA, E-e-e-vening Star-r! Extr-r-ra! Paper [- ‘ Mister ?”’ ; So range the newshoy’s chant from the street % below. NAL Qld Mr. Norton lifted his head and listened, then turned and gave me that rare, beautiful smile of his, which so often, out of the full maturity of his kindly old age, he bestowed upon me. “The newsys cried thus on the evening when I enlisted for the Great War,” said he. “For ‘Old Glory,’ they said.” “Who,” I questioned, “the newsys?” “Why no, the presidents.” “The presidents?” said I in perplexity, “you mean that Taft and Roosevelt——” “Oh, no,” said he then. “Time was when I would not have told the story. Even during the war such a tale met with ridicule, but now—. Well, the tale may amuse you. !’m but an absent-minded old duffer now, not much use to anybody; still if my story would give you a little pleasuse—— “Ah, there were great mien in those days,” he began. “They moved the world, those giants of power and intellect; but some of us, we could only see visions, see visions and dream dreams.” I glanced at his worn old Croix de Guerre, one of France’s highest honors, above the mantelpicce, and smiled to myself. “Yes,” continued the old man, “I remember that I bought a paper from a newsboy, that evening long ago, and I recall the dolorous tale it brought. Those days saw the height of the great offensive, the last successful offensive of Prussia. The Germans had cut their way far beyond Amiens, Messines Ridge was waver- ing, but a few more victories and even the Channel ports would be lost to us. America lose! [it struck my deadening patriotism. Should Liberty lose? Should Old Glory be defeated? And, as in the experience of all of us in that trying time, borne upon me as never before, came the real significance of the war, the true mean- ing of that titanic struggle. “It is doubtless difficult for you, today, to understand the lethargy of our spirits. So far from the seat of battle, how could we understand the nature of the Leonidian sacrifice which France was making for the world? Yet to each of us came his awakening.