Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. 7 north to Monte Mario where the dark cypress trees are clearly outlined against the supreme blue of the sky. And as we gaze and gaze upon Rome, the wonder grows that this was once the proud mistress of the world and that it once had a population of 2,000,000. It covers so small a space to have so dominated the world. The most careless visitor is oppressed by the memories of history that crowd upon him as he stands here. Like a scroll unrolled that one may read, lie glimpses of grand and terrible events, scenes from the lives of men that are almost as vivid to day as they were hun- dreds and hundreds of years ago and all the glory and shame and pathos that lie in the history of Rome. Like a wide and yellow sea, the broad Campagna stretches away toward the south and lying in the delicious shim- mering haze are the noble aqueducts like huge serpents and the broken tombs that line the Appian road that leads to old Capua where Hannibal lingered too long. Nearer at hand rises the Capitol, the “Head” of Rome, where stood the great temple of Olympian Jove and where to-day there are splendid buildings, the work of Michael Angelo. Beyond is the Colosseum, magnificent in its iso- lation, the pride of ancient Rome. The palaces of the Caesars lie in stately ruin upon the Palatine Hill, afar upon the Quirinal is the palace of King Humbert and beautiful Queen Marghcr- ita ; we can see the pretty garden of the Pincio, where the “four hundred” of Rome enjoy a drive ; among the mass of grey roofs arise two circular ones that catch the eyes and that take our thoughts back, back, back to the Rome of old, when the city was splendid be- yond our conception of to-day. In one of these circular buildings all the gods held rites, for it is the Pan- theon, and through the great circular opening in the roof, the sunlight streams, the moonlight delicately steals and the rain falls with gentle splashes. Enshrined under that circling dome lie all that is mortal of the immortal Raph- ael and the brave good king of United Italy, Victor Emanuel, upon whose tomb are heaped memorial emblems. The other circular dome covers the tomb of the great Augustus—a tomb that is now empty and that has been used for a theatre, but still holding, in spite of all this, rich stores of historical memories. And just across the Tiber, not far away, near the site of Pompey’s senate house, is the Spada Palace, and we know that within is the colossal statue of Pompey, at the foot of which great Caesar fell, proudly drawing his robe be- fore his eyes that he might not see the faces of his murderers. We linger so long on the hill that when we come down into the city we find some of the narrow streets quite shadowy, for there is no lingering twi- light. And so darkness settles softly over the city, as the ages hid for so long her historic treasures, but the sun of knowledge shone upon her and brought to light the treasures of her past, and just so surely, we who love Rome feel that there are again glad days for her in the sunlight of United Italy. Mignon's Plea. From the German of Gcrtlic.] Know st thou the land where lemon blows ? Mid leaves of green there the orange glows. Soft breezes from the blue heavens fall On myrtie low and laurel tall. Know’st thou the land? Tis there! Tis there I’d go with thee. O my beloved one! Know’st thou the house with its pillars white, Its Hashing rooms and salon so bright ? Those statues now seem to say to me : ‘‘Poor child, pray what have they done to thee ? ’ Know’st thou the house? Tis there! 'Tis there I’d go with thee. O my protecting one! Know'st thou the mount with its sunless day? Mid clouds and mist the mule seeks his way. Old dragon broods in the caverns hide. The rocks leap down and o’er them the tide. Know’st thou the way? Tis there.' 'Tis there Our way doth lie ! O father, let us go! Lyman C. N i: vki.i..

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6 THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. stood as a memorial of the ship that was sent upon the sacred mission. To-day, after all these ages, there stands upon the site of the Pagan tem- ple a large hospital, still connecting the spot with the god of medicine. A fine old church also stands near the hospital, and many of the superb columns incor- porated in it belonged to the temple of Ksculapius. And now we reached the Trastevere, the largest of the quarters or sections into which Rome is divided ; a section unique and full of interest, for it is here that dwell a people who claim to have descended directly from the early Rom- ans. They seldom marry outside their sec- tion, and they pride themselves upon having kept closely to the old customs of Rome, and to be in a high degree superior to those who live in the other quarters of the city. It is certain that here one does hear a refined language ; the people have a simple dignity, even be- yond the ordinary Romans, and the men, women and children, as a rule, have wonderful physical beauty. They live much of their life in the open air—the houses are so gloomy— and upon this bright, glad afternoon of summer the scenes along the way were most amusing. A Trastevere barber was busily working at his trade, while half a dozen men sat, or lay about on the sidewalk, awaiting a turn. A group of women had their heads together in lively gossip; a young mother, beautiful beyond words, sat in a low chair and watched her baby who lay in her lap, with the same look of divine, motherly love that Raphael painted in the eyes of all his Madonnas; children at play sported and laughed; a young girl was combing and plaiting her long, fine hair, looking the while into a bit of mirror; carpenters were busily at work at benches set on the sidewalks and, in fact, all the busy and social life of the quarter was in the streets. There arc rare old churches in the Trastevere, each with a history, but one of the most remarkable is that of St. C.xcilia, about whom there is a story. She was a child of noble and pagan parents, and while quite young was converted to the Christian faith. The church occupies the site of her house, and in one portion of it is pre- served the vapor bath in which St. Caecilia was confined with intent to stifle her for her falseness to the gods of her fathers. This bath, dating from the third cen- tury, and having in it, in perfect preser- vation, the pipes regularly laid for letting in the steam, with gratings in the floor for letting off the condensed water, is one of the most interesting sights in Rome A zig-zag drive, lined with trees and vines and flowering shrubs, brings us to a grand terrace, where stands another old church, built by the Emperor Con- stantine—he who saw in the heavens the sign of the cross through which he won his victory over the Romans. We are now on the Janiculum Hill the mount sacred to Janus—Janus, to whom Saturn gave the gift of knowing the past and the future, tor when Saturn was banished from High Olympus, Janus gave him welcome and helped him found his Saturnine city on the Capitol Hill. It was here upon the Janiculum Hill that Garibaldi, the devoted Italian pa- triot, held a position against the French that is one of the proudest records in Italian history. He used the church as a headquarters for his cavalry, and one may see to-day many balls imbedded in the walls. On the highest part of the hill, overlooking the whole city, stands a magnificent equestrian statue of Garibaldi, a deserved honor to this man who aided so materially in bringing about the uniting of Italy into one king- dom and freeing it from all foreign rule. On a higher spur of the hill lies an- other terrace, and flashing in the sun is the splendid Paola Fountain that once turned all the flour mills of Rome as they stood below in the Trastevere. To- day it feeds many of the fountains about the city that are so refreshing and so musical. Silently we approach the parapet of the terrace and look abroad upon Rome lying bathed in golden sunshine and afar to Frascati, nestling at the foot of the blue Albanian hills and away to the

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8 THE SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR. “H Cup of Chocolate.” lly BE A TRICE COLBURN. My invitation came (as did those of the other girls) in verbal form, being whispered hurriedly to me between bells “Pleased to see you in the ‘Grab Bag’ to-night, No. 47, at 11 o’clock sharp, and bring a spoon along. Mum's the word!” I was a “new” girl at the Seminary, and had not the slightest suspicion what the spoon had to do with it, or why my silence concerning the nocturnal visit was required. But then, you know, I was “green.” Now, as it all comes back to me, I laugh aloud at my own sweet innocence. Beatrix Dean, or “Trix,” as she was called at Bleakdale Seminary, was my ideal of a boarding-school rogue. She had short, black curls, parted boyishly in the middle, sparkling grey eyes (which could be so pleading and demure when occasion required), and cheeks just matching the knot of scarlet ribbon which often nestled coquettishly in her rumpled curls. I had been confidently informed that very day that I had better “get on the good side of Trix Dean,” because she was always having little surprises in her room and was “just the jolliest girl on beach.” Fortune favored me, for, upon ventur- ing to smile as Miss Dean passed in recitation, I was rewarded in this most unexpected manner. One may imagine how my lessons fared during the two study hours follow- ing dinner. Nora word of my German verbs could I remember. I would start out bravely: Ic i, liebe du libst, then— “Mum’s the word,” would echo through my ears, or “Eleven sharp, and bring a spoon along!” However, all things, good or bad, arc bound to have an end, and at length, upon the sound of the hall gong an- nouncing the close of study periods for the night, books were tossed to the floor, doors flew open and a general hub- bub ensued. I hurried at once in search of my new friend and found her perched upon the piano in the upper hall, sur- rounded by a group of girls. “Yes sir! well have a splendiferous time, but if you dare to let your doors squeak, or step on the wrong board I'll —well. I'll never invite you again, that’s just the whole amount; because the old “Cat’s” on duty and she’s positively aching to catch her mouse. Last night she and I had a little settling of ac- counts, and it’s my private opinion that she knows something is up. But what’s the odds? Let’s have a dance. Tilly, you can play that heavenly waltz. Oh! hello! Miss-er-what’s-your-name; glad to see you. Will you take a spin?” And I was caught unceremoniously in Trixy’s arms and whirled down the corridor. What a bewitching little madcap she was! I could hardly realize that she could be the same demure and ladylike girl whom I first saw conversing with the matron, Mrs. L., in the reception- room. But appearances are sometimes deceptive. At 10 another gong warned us that recreation was nearly over, leav- ing us two minutes to hurry to our rooms. The second bell found me seated on my bed breathless, panting and infinitely happy. Still, you know, there is never a rosy cloud without some sable streak to mar its perfection, and upon the cloud of my anticipation there was one spot— fear! What if I should step on the wrong board! Although Beatrix had artfully chalked the dangerous ones the footing of Bleaksdale Seminary was in- clined to be uncertain. How the moments dragged. As I had a second time been reminded about the spoon, I somewhat modified the sus- pense of waiting by unpacking my trunk, for of course that spoon was at the very bottom, stowed carefully away in the depths of my dancing slipper. I had no more than tossed the contents hack again before the town clock chimed 11, and to each of its strokes my heart gave an answering thump. Cautiously I opened my door and peered down the dimly lighted corridor. Hardly had I ventured to take a step when my neighbor’s door opened and a