Corona High School - Coronal Yearbook (Corona, CA)

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quote it at any time when they have the opportunity” met his gaze. He had never seen this before. He immediately jumped up and began to hunt for a Shakespearian play, but he could not find one. He finally gave up in despair, and started to pack up again. He soon forgot all about the quotation. At last he was on the train. His mind was well occupied with thoughts of college. It was not long until a young man with dark rimmed glasses came and sat down beside Harold. He pulled out a little book and began to read. Harold became very curious because the person at his side seemed very, very much interested in what he was reading. Therefore Harold leaned over to take a peek. This was what he saw : “Thou speakest wiser than what thou art ’ware of.” Ah ! this was to be his quotation. Just then the train stopped, and the young man and he got off the train. A reception committee stood on the platform ready to greet the freshmen — one of whom, of course, was Harold. A group of fellows came up to him. One stepped forward and said, “You’re a freshy, aren’t you?” “Yes,” replied Harold. “We thought you were because you seem so green — ” Harold didn’t give them time to finish, but said, “Thou speakest wiser than thou art ’ware of,” and walked off, leaving them standing with their mouths open. Oh, his quotation had surprised them! Much pleased with himself, he walked into the room labeled “Office.” The Dean looked at him and said, “Do you wish any information?” “Er, yes, could you tell me, is this Kingstone College?” asked Har- old — just because he couldn’t think of anything else. The Dean looked up with a startled, “I must be a fool if . . . .” Harold stopped to hear no more, but said, “Thou speakest wiser than thou art ’ware of.” The Dean’s face flushed scarlet. Turning to Harold, he said, “Young man, ‘The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ We need no wise fool like you in this college.” Harold meekly walked out and to the station. When he got home, he burned the pamphlet named “College Hints.” RUTH CUNNINGHAM Twenty-eight

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it? Of course, he could. He would do it. He looked about him for his pencil and paper and for the first time noticed the hay-mow had become quite dark. He knew where there were a few old candles, but candles were dangerous in crisp dry hay. So he picked up the little box of writing materials which he had kpnt, hidden there, and went down to the old harness room. There, with a candle on a little shelf above his head. Dale sat down on a box and scribbled furiously until the cocks had begun to crow and the sun was just peeping over the eastern horizon. Then, tired and sleepy, he climbed up the ancient stairway and lay down in the soft, warm hay to sleep the few remaining hours of the night. The next day in the old brick school-house first prize was given to a poem by Dale Brown — a poem written straight from the heart of the lad, and entitled “Thou Shalt Not Steal.” RUTH HOX WORTH SMILES Why be so very dry and blue When in this short life there’s so much to do? Some are afraid to smile. They say, “Is it worth while?” Is it? One thing that is sure Is the “Laughing cure.” This is easy to take, causes never an ache. Just smile and laugh, spread a word of cheer. And watch truubles and wrinkles all disappear. This takes no time, it is only play. A smile an hour keeps the frowns away. HELEN BRUNSON HARVEY BEETS “The Fool Doth Think He Is Wise, But the Wise Man Knows Himself to Be a Fool’’ Harold B rown sat in his bedroom with a deep grin on his face. His clothes were just where he had left them, which was all over because he had been packing. Tomorrow he was going to start to college. On the bed lay a pamphlet entitled “College Hints.” He picked it up again for about the eleventh time and scanned the pages. “All college students should know at least one quotation from Shakespeare and be able to Tzventv-Seven

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SUNSET The day was gradually waning; the birds long since had stopped singing their joyous song; the butterflies could no longer be seen, flitting from flower to flower; and the trout could no longer be seen defiantly leaping from the water, as they evaded the hooks of the lingering fish- erman. The soft, calm breeze that had been whispering through the trees had quieted until it could but faintly be heard whispei ' ing to the trees its goodnight song. The air, which throughout the day had been hot and sultry, had become cool as the day passed on; and, as the darkness drew near, it became heavy laden with the aroma of the mountains. The purr of motors on the lake had stopped; the splashing of oars in the water had ceased. There was silence except for the lapping of the water against the boats as they lay at anchor, and the splash of water as it washed in and out among the rocks on the shore. The trees and grass that had been so green during the day, grad- ually took a different hue; the lake that had been a sky-blue in the morning now vividly reflected the gaudy rays of the setting sun. An oppressive calm stole over the valley, as the bright golden sun slowly disappeared behind the tips of the ridges, sinking to its resting place in the west. ELY PEELER THE BENEFITS OF A MISSIONARY MEETING Spring house-cleaning? Oh, no! Only making ready for the meet- ings of the Ladies Missionary Society! This annual affair always necessitates turning the house inside-out from attic to cellar. The sewing remnants, stored in the attic for future use, must be shaken out , tied up again, and placed in the bags to await their next year’s airing. The fruit jars in the cellar have to be taken down, wiped off, and placed in straighter rows on the shelves. The pictures and draperies of the main part of the house are taken down, dusted, and replaced in their original positions. All the floors get the once-over and the windows receive their annual bath. Every- thing is put away so carefully that no one can find anything and so, consequently, it is impossible to get things out of order. Twenty-nine