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Page 47 text:
fir fx,-a as -JT --
I T H E
x A DVANCE
A CHlLD'S ANSWER
A pompous man once asked a child:
"If someone nice should ask of you
To name your fondest Wish right now,
What would you say?"
He knew and thought of wealth and power,
' Of honor, luxury, unearned gains.
She tossed her curls--her eyes flashed blue--
"Oh, this, sir, -- this is what I'd,d0:
Upon the rainbow I would ride
To where perhaps I'd find
A scrap of color left
To make my newest doll a dress.
And surely I should learn about
My picture on the water clear.
And why a little tiny bud
Becomes a lovely rose.
Before I left, I'd like to know
Who paints the skies at evening's close,
And why the ocean sounds.
And don't you think perhaps,
I might be told just what it is
That makes trees grow, While rocks do not?
And last of all--I 'most forgot!
Before I said good-bye,
I'd ask my biggest, bestest wish:
That grown-ups, children, babies, too,
Might all be loved as I am loved
When Mother says, "I thank Thee, God!"
N ovelle Rowland '26
Page 46 text:
Once I lay me down to rest, and as I slept, I saw a vision of surpassing
strangeness. Methought I saw a man and a youth standing near the out-
skirts of a grove of trees called the Wilderness of Training. The ladts
name was Good Runner, and the man's name, Coach, and Coach was saying:
"G3odR'1nner, ga forth upon this pathway until you have gone through
the Wilderness of Training. In this wilderness you will find many ravines,
lakes, and rivers which will obstruct your way. Try ycur best to conquer
these, and if you succeed, at the end of the journey you will see the Golden
After shaking hands with the Coach, Good Runner set out with promises
to try. Soon he met many other youths going on the same journey. lt was
only a short time before they came upon a swift stream which was called
the River of Soda Water. Good Runner, with all his confederates, dived
in and swam across. On the opposite bank Good Runner saw a man cfm-
ing toward them, and recognizing him said, "Boys, we must stay away
from that man. He will kidnap us and take us to the prison of Chocolate
Creams." All but one boy named Spendthrift took heed and fled.
Soon they came to a lake called Lake Coffee. The large waves of this
lake frightened the boys until they saw a boat, Will Power, tied to a pier.
Good Runner and all his friends jumped aboard and away they went across
the lake. On the way theyjust missed running into a large rock called the
Rock of Cigarettes. At this point two of the boys, Weak and Weary, fell
At last Good Runner and his five remaining friends reached the shcrc
safely. Before them yawned a dark opening into a cave, bearing over the
entrance the sign "Night Hours. Abandon work, all ye who enter here."
Good Runner and his companions peered in, curious to know what adventures
and mysteries were concealed within the dark recesses. Nothing could be
seen, but distant sounds of broken harmonies, wails, and muffled drum-
beats sounded vaguely suggestive of jazz orchestras. Wood B. Sport could
stand his curiosity no longer and left the others hesitating outside while he
went Within to search, as he said, the origin of those sounds. He did not
return, and his comrades, after a time, took the little by-path marked
"Early Hours", which they had discovered at the right of the cave and
quickly climbed to the top of the cliff. Looking far off in the distance, they
saw on ahill called Racetrack, the Golden Urn! It shone brilliantly in the
sunshine waiting to be the reward of all those who could stand the test.
Page 48 text:
Tl Ti-n-: i
A. U. H. s. DAYS
A newcomer at our high school would, in all probability, be somewhat te-
wildered by the many varied noises. But because the ear of an A. U. H.S.
student is tuned to each and every sound, he merely considers them all as
a harmonizing medely played by a strange orchestra. Whenever a part of
this orchestra is silenced, the student will soon notice the lack.
I was particularly struck with this idea one drowsy day, when, having
finished my studying a few moments before the end of the period, I devot-
ed the rest of the time to listening to all the sounds that came through the
open doors and windows.
From down the hall came the ceaseless clatter of a score of typewriters,
plied by the industrius fingers of as many students. My attention was soon
caught by the echoes of laughter of an entire class, and I wondered what
the class "jester" had now said, for almost every class has its jester. Then,
in direct contrast, came the voice of Mr. Cooperrider addressing some tardy
student, while the united voices of a Spanish class monotonously droned
after the teacher that the cases were accusative, nominative, and ---blah--
Turning toward the windows, I was attracted by the steady buzz of a
saw' in the manual training rooms at about an Fpitch, while a duet of waver-
ing saxephone notes, and the drawling tones of a lagging trombone, compet-
ed in a key about three tones flatter! But myattention was called from
this branch of art to the quick staccato reports of a hammer, wielded by some
laboring auto-mechanics aspirant.
From, far away, on the distant gridircn, came the shouts wrung from lusty
young throats in the excitement and intricacies of learning to play football.
But right then I was called to my immediate surroundings by the mcst wel-
come sound of all---the clatter ofdishes in the cafeteria, proclaiming the
hour of lunch.
All of which reflects school life. Often we hear the groaning lamentation:
"Oh, to be out of school--how I hate it! Wouldn't yours truly be glad if
school days were optional? I certainly would never linger in this place!"
This, though it may be asserted in all assumed sincerity, is really not true.
because how readily flames a student's pride when praise is uttered for his
school! how quickly he will defend a questioning of it! and in later years it
will be precious as a loved melody that one never forgets.
Donna Lewis '28
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