John Burroughs Middle School - Burr Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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THE • • B - 1 ' • By HARVEY QUITTNER How would you like to ride in a railroad three miles under the sear ' There is such a road, and it is probably the strangest that men have ever built. Ships sail by overhead. Storms churn up waves as high as mountains. Gales come and go. Shipwrecks occur. But 16,000 feet below, in a long hollow under the water, railroad men keep on the job twenty-four hours a day. If you want to see this unusual railroad, vou will have to go to far-away Cape Breton Island, at the northern tip of Nova Scotia, and get a permit to go down into a strange coal mine known as the B-l. Danger lurks everywhere so few visitors are allowed First there is the elevator that goes to the bottom. The guard blows a whistle. From far below comes a faint an ' er. The elevator drops into the inky darkness Level after level rhrots bv. 0P ethin 3 suddenly shoots past, going up. It ' s the balanc- ing car that is attached to the o ' h- r -nd of th elevator. Finally it stops at the bottom. There is a vast casern - ' th c ' e min ' ' ra ' Iroad tracks shooting in all directions. Look out for the trip, one miner shouts to a companion. Two large doors open and four or five big coal cars shoot down the incline. Down the tracks and through a passageway and there is the Dusky Diamond Limited, crack express train of this undersea railroad, with a shining electric locomotive and a long string of cars. All the meed b t none of the comforts of the Twentieth Century, grins Rufus MacEachern. the boss of the coal mine, who is said to carry a complete map of all the trackage of the miles and miles of railroad in the mine. A high ball from the conductor, a green all clear on the block signal and away she goes, rattling and banging like an old Ford. To prevent spontaneous explos- ion, the walls are covered with certain chemicals. After going about three miles the train stopped at a stationary engine, behind which a man sat. By touching certain levers he sent dozens of cable cars around the mine. In front of him was a trackage map — with a lot of lights moving about it. Each light represents a car. This was called a branch line. Alo ' g further there was a big building with horses in it. These horses are healthy and well groomed, yet they never see the sun. Their job is to pull the coal cars on the branch-branch line. Their eyes have grown accustomed to the dark and miners are cautioned not to flash their lights in their faces. Up went the elevator. At the top coal cars were being dumped and then sent back to the bottom for more dusky diamonds. How hot and stuffy it seemed above That is the story of the railroad under the sea, one of the world ' s wonders most ground after the fresh air that is pumped into the mine! people know nothing about! some task which is not already his assigned duty. The money accumulated from the fines shall be used to replace broken dishes or to buy some new piece which we need. Is there any question on the matter? she finished, smiling. The next morning she could not help chuckling at the scarcity of personal belongings out of place. Not one penny in fines did she receive. Of course, after a week their vigilance lessened, but a small fine justly asked and cheerfully paid was all the reminder that was usually necessary for another week. And so, the pick-pocket has come to be a regular member of their family.

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THE SURPRISE SCHEME By LA VAUGHN BRADLEY When Johnny goes to school It takes mama and Kate and me To start him off, because he makes Quite work enough for three; Mama must find his coat and hat I try to keep the rule, Tis always an exciting time When Johnny goes to school Where ' s my pencil? wailed Nancy as she made a frantic search the last minute before leaving for school. I can ' t find my history book, called Johnny from the library. Mother, demanded father from the top of the stairs, ' have you see my keys to the car? No! Take mine, they are in my purse in my top drawer, answered Mrs. Fielding. Mother, I can ' t fmd my shoe, wailed six-year-old Jean. ' Wear your new shoes. It is too late to hunt for the old ones now. After the door had closed behind the last departing member of her adorable but thoughtless family, she sank down for a short rest before attacking the morning pick-up. She could not help smiling as she looked about her attractive but untidy living room. There was Jean ' s shoe peeping ouit from beneath the davenport It almost seemed to grin at her as she spied it in its hiding place. And there was Mr. Fielding ' s keys in plain sight on the mantle with his reading glasses. Here was Johnny ' s history book tucked down in the side of the very chair in which she sat. Delving deeper she found her thimble and a spool of thread, and from still deeper down she brought to light Jean ' s long lost ring and a shiny dime. Gathering the booty from her treasure hunt, she placed it on the stairs to await her next ascent. There was no use in making any more trips upstairs than necessary. Then the telephone called her away for ten minutes. But while she was gone, Tim — age two — discovered the articles and had ample time to scatter them from front door to back. This settled the question of going upstairs, she gathered everything up again and made the rounds to the bedrooms, depositing each article in its proper place As she cleaned each room a similar array of misplaced belongings grinned at her from chairs, tables, and floor. Four times that morning she chased upstairs putting things away. She decided that something must be done about it. Here on this busy morning she had spent no less than forty minutes of her precious time picking up and putting away. That was too much time wasted for her well-regulated home. She decided to stage a quiet rebellion. That afternoon, she took a pretty piece of creton and cut out a tie-on apron with a huge pocket across the front of the entire apron. That evening she announced that she had a surprise for them all. Excitement ran high as she left the dining room and returned wearing the unusual apron. Mother, what is itr ' What is it for ' ' demanded her surprised family. This is my pick-pocket, she said Everything I find around the house out of Its proper place will go in here When I am through cleaning, each day, I will make the rounds of house and put things where they belong — except — she paused for effect and all eyes and ears were at attention — articles which I feel have been left in care- lessness and neglect will remain in the pocket until the owner has paid a fine. The fine will depend upon the negligence in the case and the size of the allowance of the offender. If the owner of the imprisoned article chooses he may pay the fine by doing

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OUR GARDENER By BOB RANDALL John Burroughs is over a decade old, but its youthful appearance is cleverly dis- guised by the artistic touch and constant labor of Fidele Faure, Can you picture our school, a blank, desolate, brick building ' ' This might have been the unbearable con- dition at John Burroughs had it not been for the love of beauty belonging to this skillful Frenchman. Monsieur Faure was born in Lyons, that grand old city of Southern France, and has been in America nearly twenty-five years He is always willing to instruct the pupils about his methods of gardening, or to please one of the teachers by giving them a bouquet of his marvelous achievements. Ever since the beginning, Fidele has changed John Burroughs from dull, monotonous grounds to a well kept yard, with a supreme color scheme, which has kept this school, as well as the pupils, in an ever- lasting, cheerful environment. Too loz . ' Ihc huihl who bn ' dd bcncatli III,- slars. — VoL ' XC.