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

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mind right then that no one was going to call me a dinky stuck-up dog. The things that happened after that are almost unbelievable, but when that feeling left me, and I had fought almost every dog in the neighbor- hood, rolled in every mud puddle, and chased all the cars, I, instead of being a petted lap dog, was a very battered, be-draggled, but victorious Pomeranian, who had had his day. Olive Clarke, High Nine. UNMARKED GRAVES One day this summer, during my vacation in the Mother Lode coun- try, I chanced upon two crude unmarked graves. After considerable inquiry, my curiosity concerning these graves was gratified by the oldest man in the countryside, who related the following true story: Two Swedish sailors, Ole and Lars, deserted their ships in the San Francisco Harbor in 1850, and went mining. They were fairly success- ful, but as soon as each had a bag of yellow dust, the gold started to burn their pockets” and they resolved to go back to San Francisco and have a good time. They felt very rich as they sewed the gold into their belts, slung their roll of blankets over their shoulders and grabbed a piece of bacon. However, after they had walked half a day in the hot Cali- fornia sunshine, they became weary. Upon seeing what they thought was a gray horse in the distance, they decided that, being such rich men, they should ride. They resolved to catch the steed, which looked rather wild. They pursued it up a canyon and, alas, discovered too late, that it was a Grizzly bear. Now Ole and Lars are buried, side by side, just a half day’s journey from their old diggings. Mercedes Stroube, High Eight. The King’s Mishap T he King was on his trusty steed, As he went to the fair. Alas! he did not know what fate Had sent to meet him there. Suddenly from the deep, dark wood The enemy’s army came. The King ’most fell from his trusty steed, As he clung to his horse’s mane. The battle ensued in wonderful style, But nary a man teas hurt-, Until the King fell off his horse And tore his silken shirt. r( Alas, Alack, and deary me,” The frightened monarch cried; But is it note the Baron Blimp,

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WHALES I had known Captain Warshaw for sixteen years but had never gone on one of his whaling trips. Finally, he persuaded me and I promised to be ready at 6 o’clock the next morning. True to my word, I was stumbling along the Monterey docks in the fog at ten minutes to six. Getting under way just after the fog had raised, we set out into the bay on a small whaler. Most of the crew were Swedes, but they seemed to know what they were about. After losing my breakfast and the n lunch, we, or rather the look-out up in the crow’s-nest, sighted a school of whales, just what we were looking for. We at once started in pursuit. Following the mammals, I was nearly left behind a few times when the boat quickly turned in pursuit. The harpooner at the gun, after getting in position, shot the harpoon. Then began a merry chase. Another harpoon was shot and the water became colored a deep, vivid red. After two or three hours of fighting, we succeeded in killing a whale, and then set out after another one. With the one tied to the side weighting the boat to a slanting position, our speed was slackened, and we were unable to get in position for a shot at the second whale, and so headed toward Santa Cruz. After leaving our catch at the whaling station, we were overtaken by the incoming fog. Utterly lost, we finally and suddenly ran with a crashing, scraping sound upon the rocks just off Capitola. Signaling with flaming rockets did no good, so Captain Warshaw, deciding I was the jinx, put me into a life-boat with part of the crew. Of course, we had to scramble off the high side of the boat, but when that was accomplished and we had a good start, quite calmly we crashed over a submerged rock and lost the bottom of our frail craft. Wading in to shore, with visions of those whales just behind, my first, and probably last, whaling expedition ended. Madelyn McGlynn, High Nine. JUST FOR SPITE On a day like this, ’most anything could happen,” said our neigh- bor’s dog to a yellow mutt from down the street somewhere. Yes,” the mutt replied, my master might give me a bath for a change, or it might snow, or even that dinky l ittle dog next door might come down off his high horse and play with us.” Now, I happened to be sitting on a silk pillow in the sun-room over- looking our neighbor’s garden, and I knew those two dogs could see me. So I, with my most disdainful manner, turned up my Pomeranian nose, gave my tail a flip, and waddled off. But when I got out of their sight I felt very different, indeed, and very angrily took refuge in my mistress’ lap. While I was sitting there, listening to her baby talk, a sudden feeling crept over me which I cannot describe, but which made me feel as strong as an ox, as big as an elephant, and as fierce as a lion; and I made up my

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Fourth cousin to my bride}” It is, milord, and please accept My deep apology. We did but look for robbers here, And sadly mistook thee .” I’ve lost my interest,” said the King; For I’ve had such a scare That I’ve decided after all I’ll not go to the fair.” Elinor Skimmings, High Nine. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAM, A CAT My real name is Samuel, but my mistress calls me Sam. My sister’s name is Sue. I am black with a white bib” and white paws. When my mistress’ brother takes a bath, he always thinks I should have one also. But I hide under the sofa, until he is done. One day as I was taking my daily walk through the house, I had a very scary adventure. I am very curious about things and like to inves- tigate. I saw a little hole in the wall; so I jumped in. Thud! I fell on a pile of clothes. I blinked my eyes to be sure I wasn’t asleep and dreaming about Alice in Wonderland,” which my mistress had been reading. I meowed but it did no good, so I sniffed around to see if I could find a way out. Soon I heard a voice crying, I can’t find my kitty. Where are you, Sammy?” I meowed more loudly than ever and I soon saw some light. My mistress came to my rescue, picked me up, and petted me so much I was rather glad I fell into the hole. (I later found out it was the clothes chute) . Another time, I fell into the fish-pond. I was watching the gold-fish and put my paw in to catch one, when I found myself struggling to get out. Once, I went riding in the car to a farm. At supper time, I went to the barn with my mistress. We watched the men milk the cows. When they were done, I had a bowl of milk. That reminds me, I must go to supper. I would like to write to any cat that has adventures as I do. Nancy MacCaughey, Low Eight. Night T he sun has set Beneath the sea, Leaving the world In ecstacy. A star appears In splendor bright,