Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

Page 6 text:

4 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL A VERMONT SCENE AT SUNDOWN The silver leaves of the poplar dance in the splendid light, and evergreens shine like burnished gold . . . A thunder cloud, rearing its head in the North, is lighted up by crimson streaks across its face. . . The clouds stretch purple fingers across the sky; and the trees mingle together until they become a hazy blue . . . The trees, whispering together, bow their heads in worship to the wonders of the sky. As night spreads her blanket. the wind whistles softly down the valleys between the green hills of Vermont. Alice Ward, ’38

Page 5 text:

BLUE AND WHITE 3 fE ttorial Dorothy Slack, ’37, Editor VERMONT Now that spring has come again nature forces us to appreciate what a lovely state we live in. Just a few weeks ago we were vaguely aware of the kind of surroundings we have but they were rather grey and dismal. Now although most of the time we secretly condemn the rainy days we’ve had. we now and then get a glimpse of perfection, a sunny, happy world which we must realize was made more beautiful by the rain. Every day we grow more and more amazed at the serenity that can he brought by the dazzling glory of the sunlight. However I must stop rambling, about our appreciation of our peaceful scenery and speak of other people’s. Even now with hardly any encouragement at all, people from all over the United States, and even other parts of the world, are traveling through and sometimes stopping in Vermont to catch some of the beauty and peace of our Green Mountains. Just think what would happen with good co-operation on the part of our own people! There seems to be no end to what our visitors could inspire for the improvement of our appearances. Even our everyday living could be made fruitful and worth while—not only making others happy but ourselves!

Page 7 text:

BLUE AND WHITE 5 Barbara Ball, ’37, Editor Daniel Bull, ’38, Assistant Editor BACKWOODS BEAUTY I was interested in the two men because they were so hopelessly different—and so helplessly alike. Neither of them were the type you would expect to find in Grand Central station on a morning like this. They were evidently. strangers who had struck up an acquaintance during tneir wait. Or, on close inspection, could I call it an acquaintance? They seemed to be having an argument. Finding my own lot rather dull, I moved closer to them to indulge in a little impolite eavsdrop-ping. Confidentially, that’s where a writer gets fifty per cent of his inspirations—from listening to the opinions of people who don't know they’re being listened to! As I approached, the pair stopped talking. While I was settling myself carefully behind my newspaper, which, by the way, I had read three times, I exercise an expression of complete inattention and boredom. I had done that before, too, and I had to get my article in today. As yet I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was going to write about. Satisfied that I was harmless, the two men began again. “I still can’t see how you can place the West against Vermont’s beauty,” said the slight, farmerish-looking man. “Grand Canyon is a wonderful place to see, but who in time would want to live in such a country?” Already the argument was clear to me. One man was an Easterner—a Vermonter, who had been visiting the West. The other was a Westerner who had been East, and by some chance of