Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY A TRIP TO A MUSEUM This summer I spent a month in New York. I think it ' s safe to say that nowhere can one visit so many places of interest as in this famous city. However, this time, I can only mention the museum that I saw. The museum is called The Museum of Natural History. The building itself is immense, and it con- tains so many articles of interest, all in their natural form, that people who should know, claim it would take several months to see everything in it, and to know something about each thing. By the way, I didn ' t stay several months, only one brief afternoon, and being a person of only moderate mental power, I couldn ' t grasp so much material and consequently my mind was in a daze. How many of you know that stars are only rocks? I admit I didn ' t know. The first room I entered, contained black rocks of different shapes and sizes. Upon reading the sign I learned that these were parts of stars that had fallen from the heavens. Some of these huge rocks weighed several tons ! From this room we wandered into a place that gave me a funny feeling down my spine. This was a huge chamber . filled with tall poles carved with the awfullest looking faces and figures. These were the Totem Poles we have all heard so much about, and read about in Indian stories. There were also, all sorts of queer Indian relics and some of the most hideous masks I ' ve ever had the rather doubtful pleasure of seeing. But the thing I thought was most wonder- ful in this room was a large glass case in which were several figures. These figures were life-size, and they were so life-like I thought they ' d actually speak to me. The figures were all occupied with a task. Some of the women were sewing, one of the women was pounding corn into meal, one of the men was carving. I gazed quite fascinated, and it was with some difficulty that I was made to realize time was short and there were many other things to see. A museum is really quite a spooky place. The next room was full of human skulls and skeletons, all grinning at me. I really didn ' t care about going any further, but again my cousin persuaded me to go in and investi- gate. Here, too, I will mention only one incident that particularly impressed me. This was a study of evolution. Figures ar- ranged from monkeys to human beings, showing the marked resemblance. I never felt as much of a monkey as when gazing at this spectacle ! I visited the room where all the precious stones were kept. They are a really beauti- ful collection and the colors of some of these gems fit the adjective, gorgeous. I think the guard ' regarded me with marked suspicion. I never suspected I looked like such a des- perate character. I saw butterflies, birds, beasts of every species, even rats and even skeletons of pre- historic animals. Oh, it seems as if I could go on for ages, but really the pen is too in- adequate to describe all the things unless one is especially gifted. All I can say is that if you are ever in New York, be sure to visit the museum and see for yourself. P. Krasnov, ' 28.

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY country life in the diversity of its various occupations of pleasure. The woods possess an additional charm in the odor proceeding from the wild grapes hanging m dark clus- ters from overhanging limbs or along stone- walls. Though we miss the chestnut, the walnut and hazelnut yield abundance of fruit, and hunting and angling are at the height of their popularity. Winter is not all slush, wind, storm and cold. There is the bracing air, the skating, skiing, snow-shoeing, sleighing and coasting ; besides hunting and that most exciting of all sports, fishing through the ice. We hear every year of many who go abroad in search of historical ground. Yet, I dare say that few of them have ever visited the Indian landmark, Steerage Rock, Indian Rendezvous, Hatchet Pond, Dennison Rock, and other points of interest. But after see- ing or enjoying these things is it not a pleas- ure to retain some slight souvenir such as a photograph? The pleasures of the camera are not realized until one has experienced them. The expectancy, failures, successes, are all keenly interesting. In a sense, and by some people, this might be called a dead town, but is there not a vast deal that many of us have never given a trial which might make us more contented with our lot? For my part, give me Southbridge and its pleasures. H. Hebert, ' 27. A MONTH AT CAMP DEVENS The Citizens ' Military Training Camps certainly are a great thing for boys. The life there is quite strenuous, but having regu- lar work, play and sleep makes it seem easier, and as long as a thing seems easy it is much easier than it might be if one felt differently about it. The first day we arrived we had a strict physical examination. The officers in charge assigned us to our companies, and we were taken to that, company ' s barracks by a guide. We were told which cots were to be ours. The next morning, before six, one of the sergeants came in and woke us up. About the first thing we did was to go to breakfast. The food they gave us didn ' t seem very ap- petizing, after what we ate at home. Before the first week was over, nearly everyone was glad to get almost anything to eat that was set before him. After breakfast we went back to our bar- racks and were set to work making our beds and sweeping around them. Next we lined up and were measured to see what size clothes we were to wear. When we dressed in those clothes it seemed strange, but after wearing them a month we hated to give them up for our civilian clothes. The third day we received our rifles and belts, and were instructed in the rudiments of our training. The sergeants showed us how to handle a rifle, and how to do different squad maneuvers. After we started the regular routine we had a small bottle of ice cold milk every morning at about ten o ' clock. After dinner we had athletics. There was boxing for those who wanted it, and also baseball. For the rest there were all sorts of sports you can think of. Some days we went swimming. There were handball, push- ball, and soccer, and a lot more games which everyone could play. One of the things which we liked best was the recreation hall. There were many tables and chairs where we could sit down and write letters. This room usually was crowded with fellows writing letters or talking with other fellows. There was a small building with one side open, where we had open air shows. Every night some company would have its stunt night. The most talented fellows would per- form before a large crowd. Just opposite the stage there was quite a steep hillside which served very well for a grandstand. The third week we were instructed more about our rifles, and the different positions which were used in shooting. After this in- struction we went out on the range, which was about three miles from the barracks. Some of us were put down in the trench to care for the targets. The targets were about six feet square. After each time the target was hit, we had to pull it down, put a paper sticker over the bullet hole and hold up a certain colored disc so that the one fir- ing could tell what he scored. Then we had to push up the target again, which slid up and down on two greased poles. After we finished our work in the trench we were sent up to do our part of the firing. The work as a whole was rather hard, and many fellows were always grumbling, but I think most of them will admit that it was a well spent month, and most of them that are able, will go next year. Edwin Chamberlain, ' 27.

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UR RECOMPENSE Tomorrow he would leave Danville. He would escape those old men with their mouthy prophecies of how much use a boy of fourteen wasn ' t, what a lot he would eat, and how little he could repay his keep on the poor farm. As he fingered the locket about his neck, his mind went back to Mother Carey. He remembered the story of his arrival in little Danville. Along with a crowd of lonely Fresh Air Fund youngsters, in the care of a severe, stern nurse, he had been unloaded at the small village. Mother Carey had taken him, in his torn, ragged clothes, clutching a locket, on which there had been a monogram, and had kept him for two weeks. At the end of that time, the nurse, finding no record of him, had returned to the city to find out who he was, which was the last that had been heard of her. The boy, remembering no name but Sammy, had be- come Sam Carey. Old Caleb Rheumit had said, He had calculated, by the number and condition of his teeth, at that time, he was about five years old. Sam had gone to school and had done his bit, so they man- aged to scrape along in meagre fashion. Al- though not much of the world ' s riches was present in the little home, it was filled to overflowing by the love of - the two com- panions for each other. Then, while he was in school Mother had died suddenly, of heart-disease. Sam was left alone, as Mrs. Carey had as few relatives as dollars; the only place left was the poor farm. He was in a neighbor ' s house now, the last night (they thought) before the almshouse. He was going to fool them though, and leave on the early morning train. He would go back to New York, the city of his birth. He had a little money saved, now was the time to use it. Soon he fell asleep, resolved always to wear the locket, to finish what he began, and to be honest and true, as Mother had so often told him. It was a cold, drizzly afternoon in New York. Outside, the rain beat against the windows and the wind howled around the corners. Sam had arrived at his destina- tion at last. Of the trip in the rumbling, roaring train he had little recollection. The following days of weariness and nights of cold in the parks had blotted it out. Finally he had found out about a kind, big business man, who helped deserving boys ; he was now in his outer office. It seemed that this gentle- man ' s son had disappeared years before, re- sulting in the man ' s devoting himself to helping needy boys, beside his business inter- ests. The door opened and Sam went into the luxuriously furnished office for his inter- view. Six months afterward, Sam Carey, office boy for his kind benefactor, had learned to love and admire him almost as much as he had loved Mother Carey. George Goodhue, because of Sam ' s truthful, steady work, had come to regard him almost as a son, and caught himself sighing several times as