Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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12 THE QUIVER MY TRIP TO ALASKA (After studying “The Literary Digest for December 31, 1921.) When I was twenty years old, my chum and 1 went to Alaska by automobile. Sounds incredible, but at that time we were young am! vigorous. Both of us had worked the preceding summer and ha l saved our money ; and after many stormy hours of pleading we event i ally gained our parents’ permission. For a month we were making preparations, and finally, one morning in the first part of June, we set out. I lal and 1 were decked out in new camping clothes and Henry was as spick and span as could he. Henry was one of those old-time Fords, which run along with a tick, tick, tick, like an Ingersoll watch. The rear of the machine was piled high with camping utensils and spare parts for Henry. Our destination was the Mendenhall Glacier. To tell of our experiences on the trip across the continent would take a whole book. It is sufficient to say that we arrived at Juneau safely, after having experienced some of the most exciting and thrilling incidents. It had taken about a month to reach Juneau, so it was early one Tuesday morning about the first of July when we left that city to visit the Mendenhall Glacier, the real goal of our trip. We became excited and Henry let us know his ideas on the subject by having a blow-out. This put a damper on our enthusiasm, but not lor long. We traveled the Glacier Highway, a wonderful road built by an agreement between the Forest Service, the Bureau of Public Roads, the Alaska Road Commission, and the Territorial Road Commission. I his road extended from Juneau northward to Berner’s Bay, a distance of almost sixty miles. We followed this road for eleven miles, past many sawmills, canneries, farms, and dairy ranches, until we came to where a branch road turned off to Mendenhall Glacier. Upon going around a sharp corner, we came face to face with the object of our trip. For a minute we sat stunned, awed. We looked at each other with the same thought in our minds: “I didn't know there was so much ice anywhere short of the North Pole.” Having recovered our breath, we drove up to within two hundred yards of the glacier, where we pitched camp. We set up our tent, for we intended to stay at least twenty-four hours. About one o clock we started on our exploration trip. Mendenhall Glacier lies in a valley between two mountain ranges. The steep and rocky slopes of these mountains have been carved into many fantastic figures by this great, slowly moving river of ice. We climbed up one of the slopes, and then what a wonderful view we had ! Below us, as far as we could see, lay the vast sheet of ice. twisting and turning

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THE QUIVER “IMPRESSIONS FROM ‘AFTERNOON OF A FAUN’ ” 11 Impression from the Prelude, “Afternoon of a Faun,’’ by Claude Debutty, as played by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Can I forget that fanciful prelude? Can I believe those persons ignorant, Who say that worthless are your compositions? ’Tis that they do not know your magic power, And so they judge without just cause or reason. As I sat in the hall, so silent and still, In my soul, 1 saw the visions which you saw. Highly colored, like a beauteous fairyland, With blue and gold and red and purple bright. I felt a beauty which was true—yes, true! 1 shivered with delight and happiness, And wished that I could hear your tones forever. But alas, too soon, your inspiration ceased; And in a minute, all was gone—was gone— The magic rhythm of the dance so gay, The chords with all their color and mystery. The shy faun with its nimble, joyful dance, Were gone to the land of charm and strange delight. The trees of gold, of blue, and brilliant green— The lake with waters blue and amethystine, All faded to a color pale and dull. I see thee still in fleeting visions. Often in day dreams when I pensive seem, And again I feel the joy and colors bright Which I perceived from your prelude inspiring, “The Afternoon of a Faun,” O Claude Debussy. EUGENE MAILLOUX

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THE QUIVER 13 between the ridges like a huge, white snake. A turbulent stream, the original ice-water, issued from beneath the mass. A few aspens and spruces were making a game struggle for existence in the terminal moraines. All the afternoon we roamed over the rocky cliffs and by nightfall we were very tired. That evening, after returning to camp, Hal and I enjoyed one of the most beautiful sights imaginable. the moon rising over a glacier. The ice, bathed in a white light, sparkled and gleamed and took many fantastic shapes and forms. It was so beautiful and fascinating that it was midnight before Hal and 1 got to sleep. The next morning, with many a backward glance, we left the Mendenhall Glacier and again took the Glacier Highway on our way to Skagway. We passed Auke l.ake and Auke Inlet, where we saw several canneries and one or two summer homes. As we approached Eagle River, we noticed very fertile land, which was extensively cultivated. From Auke Inlet to Skagway. the road was not very good because the construction work had reached only Auke Inlet, although the preliminary survey extended to Eagle River. We reached Skagway in due time, and after a day’s rest, began our long journey home, following the route by which we had come. Late one night in the middle of September, we arrived in Woonsocket. We had had a remarkable trip and had learned much from experience. To us. the Glacier Highway was a wonder way, for from it we had seen canneries, farms, forests, cliffs, rivers, snow-capped peaks, and glaciers. From one spot we had seen four glaciers, Mendenhall. Herbert, Lemon, and Eagle, which, if united, would cover thousands of acres. '1'his was the most inspiring sight of our t ip. ROLAND HARRALL. MEMORY PICTURES I. I think that the thing I shall remember longest about my voyage over to the United States will be the first American girl 1 ever knew. Her name was Marjorie. She was always so sure that she knew more than anyone else, so sure that she should always be first in everything, that it was only natural that the rest of us should not like her very well. She probably felt this way because she was older than we ; we were only nine or ten, she was—thirteen. One day, one of the girls suggested that we play “I Spy.” Marjorie said that we would play it, but she would be first. She began, “I spy with my little eye something beginning with L. L.” We guessed everything we could think of, but finally gave up. I hen she