Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1933

Page 29 of 60


Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1933 Edition, Page 29 of 60
Page 29 of 60

Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1933 Edition, Page 28
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Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1933 Edition, Page 30
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Page 29 text:

MERRY CHRISTMAS! The great town clock struck nine as the watchmaker locked his little shop. He looked at his gold watch and smiled to himself as he saw that it kept perfect time with the town clock. Then shoving his hands deep down in his pockets, he started home. There were not many people on the streets at this time of night, for in Canada it gets dark quickly in the winter time. Johann Briggs whistled gaily as he made his way down a narrow side street. Why shouldn ' t he whistle? Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Johann did not work then. A few minutes later a shadow crouched in the doorway of the clock shop. Someone was quietly working at the lock. The door opened and the shadow went in. Mike, the superstitious policeman who patrolled the eastern section of the town and who the people said couldn ' t catch anything but the measles, walked quickly to the shop. He soon walked away for surely no one would go into the clock shop. Everyone in the town loved Johann. People often stopped to talk to the little watchmaker with the long white beard and twinkly blue eyes, who had a kind word for everybody. Now the streets were completely deserted and a quiet hush settled over the town. Mike was making his final round when a low moan came from the watch shop. He paused and listened. Then he started to go in, but decided that he had better investigate. He put his hand on the door and it opened. Did Johann forget to lock the door? He stepped cau- tiously into the room. While groping about for a light switch, he touched the window shade which went up with a bang! The terrified policeman sprang to the door, but seeing it was only the shade, gained courage again. Suddenly something swept past him. He backed quickly against the wall at the same time pushing on the switch and flooding the room with light. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary the officer left the shop thinking that perhaps a cat had been causing all the commotion. The next morning Johann got up quite early and not having anything to do, decided to walk down to his shop to see if everything was all right. Upon entering the shop he noticed that the door to the great grandfather clock was ajar. When he opened the door, out fell a large package. The old man ' s eyes glistened as he untied the string. As the paper fell away a large basket containing a Christmas dinner and presents for Johann was revealed. The old watchmaker also knew that it was the school children who had left it there for him. They had given him a basket each year, but it had always been left on his door step. At first he thought they had forgotten him, but finding it in the shop was even a greater surprise. " Do you know! " cried Mike coming into the shop breathlessly a few minutes later just as Johann was going home, " that someone was prowling around your shop last night and when I came near they all ran away! " " Come here, " said Johann, " and Fll show you what the night prowlers left. "

Page 28 text:

They had been asleep for some time when a frightful deafening noise ■ awoke them. " Paddy! " cried Joan, " What on earth is the matter? " " Don ' t be alarmed, " said Paddy, " It ' s only rain on the tin roof. " " Rain! It sounds to me as if Mustard had left the Kraal gate open and the horses were galloping on the roof! " They slept finally and awoke to a morning filled with a strange deep rear. They dressed quickly and ran through the house to the yard. Not a soul was in sight! The roar seemed to come from the Oliphants, that dry stretch of sand. Up a Kopjie they scrambled and there at their feet rushed a mighty torrent of water. But look! On the bank there are men running and shouting. They have ropes and are trying to pull something out of the flood. It ' s a cart and two horses swimming desperately ! And, oh! A man! Slowly they are pulled to shore and stagger out of the water. Then Paddy screams " Oh! Oh! It ' s Daddy! " The girls fly down and Paddv is crying in her father ' s arms. He had come to meet them, and the flood had caueht him in the middle of the river. Back at the farm house Joan thought to herself " If four hours rain can do this to the rivers I ' m glad I didn ' t get my wish. Betty Ricker, Low Eight. Autumn Leaves The Aiifiiiuu leaves And then the u iud Come finubliiig down, Conies wh sking by, And fall around us And all the leaves On the ground. Fran us do fly. Red and yellow, Yet every year Blue and green, They come and go. They make a most And bring to us Delightful scene. Their little show. I find it fun Of playing and dancing To watch them fall All the long day. From out of trees — Until by the winds Some large, some small. They are carried away. Allex Sugdex, High Eight. ' ' Who does not love true poetry, He lacks a bosom friend To ivalk with him, - To talk ivith him, And all his steps attend. ' ' Henry Clay Hall.

Page 30 text:

" You mean it was the kids who were here? " asked the astonished officer when he saw the basket. " It was, " rephed the old man, his eyes dancing merrily. " How do you account for the moan? " asked Mike scratching his head. " The children probably saw you and tried to frighten you with their moaning, " answered the old man wisely. " Well-er-a you won ' t mention this to anyone — not that it matters or anything, but you won ' t tell — will you? " pleaded the embarrassed officer. " Well I ' ll think about it, " said Johann going out the door, his eyes twinkling merrily, " and a Merry Christmas to you. " " Merry Christmas, " stammered Mikke, twitching his fingers nerv- ously. Ruth Worthington, HigJo Nine. THE KID The kind of kid I am speaking about, is the species that is a general nuisance. Although both kinds are equally bad in that respect. This particular one came into this world of triatls and tribulations for baby goats, on April i, 1881; on a farm in the blue grass state of Kentucky. He was a surprise to all, but even poor Mamma Goat, who had that gentle reproachful look in her gray-blue eyes, did not know how much of a surprise he was going to turn out to be. From the moment he stood up on his thin wobbly legs and yawned right into our unsuspecting faces till the day of his most timely death, he was destined to be an unfailing source of employment for all of us. That morning after we had trooped in to breakfast and had discussed his arrival, we began to think about what we would name him. Mother said we had better wait awhile before decid- ing, but Bess said she wanted to name him " Precious. " This started an argument, for Bob wanted him to be called " Buffalo Bill " . My personal name for him was " Butter, " but the hired man showed more foresight when he said, " Wal, I reckon I ' ll jist call him ' Nuisance ' . " The first important episode I wish to call your attention to, was on the night of December 24, just after a heavy downpour of chiUing rain. This sweet little goat (call him what you will) emitted such a terrified bawl that the whole household turned out in full force. We emerged to find our water barrel half filled with a frightened, upside-down baby goat. We dragged him safely back to his mother and went wearily, and with that usual sinking feeling in our hearts, up the back stairs (in order to save the carpet on the front ones) . This was not the first time we had been startled to wakefulness by that same raucous voice. In the morning we found a bedraggled but greatly subdued young goat sleeping demurely by his mother ' s side, as if he were sorry but could not help it if he did see a vision of a mocking goat looking at him out of the rain barrel. This attitude did not last, hov ever, for as this young goat gentleman began to grow up, he wanted to show his mother what an enterprising

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