Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER 9 We were told to put our feet in first, roll over on our right side, and slide. As we slid, we felt someone catch our feet and place them in niches; then placing our hands, as the guide directed, we found ourselves clinging to the face of a great rock, with far beneath us a pool ol green water. We edged across this rock by means of other niches and went through a long dark tunnel, in which one had to crawl over r cks in order not to step into the river. At the end of this tunnel there was a small circular cave, hollowed out of solid rock, so far below the surface that only a single ray of light struck the dark, stagnant water with which it was filled. At the end of a series of great rocky chambers, we came to the Lemon Squeezer, where we literally had to tie ourselves into knots to get through. Next we climbed down a ladder into a dark hole, from which we found our way into a flattened tunnel known as the Kat Hole. In this we lay flat on our stomachs and wiggled through, keeping in close touch with the feet of the person ahead of us. Coming out, we climbed an upright tunnel by means of niches, in which we placed our hands and feet. In the last cave, the cave of Lost Souls, we had to use j aper torches in order to see the immensity of the great, damp, dark rock-room. From there we came out to see Paradise balls, where the river issues from its underground passages into •I e sunshine and tumbles hundreds of feet over jagged rocks. Then came the weary tramp back to the carriages, the gypsy lunch, and the long drive home. We had enjoyed our trip, but we tailed to realize the joy fully until the next morning, when we tried in vain to find a comfortable position for our overtaxed muscles. HARRIET VOSE, ’14. A TRIP FROM NAPLES TO SORRENTO It was in May, the month of flowers and songs, that I made a trip to a corner of dreamland in Italy. I had been in Naples several times, but I had never explored its surroundings; and it was with enthusiasm that, on a smiling morning, I started on my journey from Naples to Sorrento. The train left Naples with a long whistle that seemed full of joy, while our souls drank in, with rapture, the sunshine and the fragrance of the air. and our eyes feasted on the scenes that Nature displayed to us in rapid succession. May exulted in the clear sky, in the dewy vales, in the dreamy hills. There was everywhere a growing, an infinite happiness of living that came down from the heavens, that arose from the earth, that penetrated the air, the bright air,

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8 THE QUIVER I have attended Woonsocket High School. Perhaps I look the same to others, but I suppose it just can't be helped. It comes as second nature. WALTER PAD1EX, T4. LOST RIVER Last summer, while staying in the White Mountains at a small hotel near North Woodstock, 1 went with twelve others on a trip to the wonderful Lost River. About nine o'clock on one of those bright, sunshiny days when the mountains stand clear cut against the sky, we started in two large carriages. After driving a short distance on the main road, we turned oft and followed a rough trail. The first part of the trip we drove under an archway of trees, but soon reached a more open country where the sides of the road were thick with raspberries and the mountains showed themselves more clearly in the distance. After two hours of hard climbing we stopped before an old barn, where we were to leave the horses, the trail being now too narrow tor the carriages. Here we were told that we must don overalls, as we had a hard, rough climb ahead of us. We did this with much laughter, for the overalls were apparently all of the same size and fitted no one in the party. After leaving the carriages, we walked for a mile. Finally we saw far below us what I should have called a mere stream, but what the guide told us was the Lost River. This river we were to follow for the next three hours through all the wonderful caves and underground passages it had worn out of the solid rock. Sometimes we were to see it, sometimes to hear it far below our feet, and sometimes far over our heads. First we went down a long ladder and across many little bridges of white birch until we came to a large flat rock, filled the Guillotine. Walking across this and climbing over another rock, we stood on a narrow ledge, looking down into a deep chasm. The faint tinkling of a waterfall came to us as we stood leaning far out over the edge; and. as our eyes became accustomed to the darkness, we saw, far below us. a pool of water. After climbing back, crossing more bridges, and going down more ladders, we finally squeezed through a hole to find ourselves standing in a high cave half-filled with water. Looking up we saw a tiny spot of light where we had been standing only a few moments before: also a magnificent waterfall tumbling the whole length of the cave. On climbing out. the guide called our attention to a hole, about a foot square, formed by two rocks with ragged edges.

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10 THE QEIVEK ibrating with songs, llow beautiful it was! On one side the volcano that mournfully smoked its pipe, and above its flanks the interminable fields of lava that, in the distance, in the midst of the sparkling green of the country, seemed motionless shadows caused by large clouds. The sea, white with foam and sails, appeared on the other side, and far off, the villages of Vico, Meta, Sant’ Anielo, and Sorrento, hidden among the groves of oranges, seemed as white as the feathers that fell from the angels’ wings when they came on earth to make love to the Earth’s daughters; and then Capri and Ischia and Procida and the nebulous Ponza, behind which the indistinct fog of the sea said to the unwearied eyes: “Now, it is enough!’’ After crossing the narrow plain of Castellamare’s marine, we c,arted immediately on the wonderful way which leads to Sorrento. T. is. a continuous succession of fanciful points of view, one more splendid than the other. The way, at first horridly picturesque, becomes soon full of majestic reefs and precipices, and then, of gracious .little vales, like Ormidi gardens, concealed among groves and gigantii cedars, in passing by which we were cheered by the sea breeze, and covered with a rain of white petals. It is a most fanciful scene, a sweet idyll of Nature sung by the wind. The honeysuckle and the flexuous ivy twisting themselves around the garden railings, climbing from balcony to balcony and running along the houses, hide these under a coverlet of foliage and flowers: colossal agaves, India figs, palms, olives with dark leaves and slender trunks, humid by the sea foam, dashed their branches in the air. raising their foliage one above the other as if they also would enjoy the sight of the sea and of the divine country which surrounded them. It seemed that everything was shining, that everything was moving and resounding around us with a sweet melody, that the sky and tlie earth were become mad and were smiling at our silly faces lost in an ocean of contemplative rapture. FELICETTA LEONT, ’u THE POND LILY Beautiful Lily, so pure and so bright, Wjth center the purest oft gold, . ti,, . You seem to have borrowed your chalice of light , . • From the sun that never seems old.. t Yon grow'in‘the pond: yet high and dry — ■ You live in the wafers broad;’ • .. I You-must have fallen from the sky, i.- i ►-ii • From the gardens bf our dear Lord. MARION SALLEY, ’16.