Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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v v 9316.8 Iu1IfnIIInIIInum-nummmminImmmmmm-muum To a Small Stream By Garland Harvill Winding along on your narrow path O'er hill and dale, your ways so free, What are you thinking of, little brook, As you trickle along on your way to the sea? Here and there are clear, deep pools Where fishes play among silver stones, And the mockingbird overhead pauses and sings In the stately pines with their sharp, brown cones. You have no cares to face you in life, To darken your soul, on your journey so longg You frolic and play over thousands of rocks, As you softly go, humming and whistling a song. uvnuIunmumunmnnnmIuumm:mnnmm-nnmum Page twenty-seven . . . unummm-nmumnnumnunmmn

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K Q . 77 unu1inu1nnnnununnnI11umnnuumumummummmmumu'annumnumIinnuninnn1nnnnnn1n1ununumm:m11nimmmmmunumuImmuuumnnunnuminnunnuu11I1n1n4u1A111IuIunnmnnnnmnunnmu she. He loved her deeply, and she returned that love with in- terest. B You see Elizabeth Blanche was nothing like her father. She had none of his undesirable traits. Big Jim had married a Woman with righteous ideals and then had disappointed her by his crooked ways. He loved his wife dearly, though, even if he did pay no attention to her advice concerning his methods of gaining money. Being honest for once, he had admitted that she could best raise their only child and had let her do so. Hence Elizabeth Blanche's charming beauty and innocence. John and Blanche had agreed to marry regardless of Big Jim's interference. However, the situation was this: If John married Blanche he would be forced to give up his charges against her father and therefore would probably become liable to charges of bargain and sale. He would be forced to give up his position as editor of the Advocate and, as Blanche sug- gested, go to another part of the country and there start the climb to success anew. He could, by holding his position and merely dropping the charges against Ringstaff, cause much unpleasantness. On the other hand, if he continued his exposure of Boss Jim he must lose his beloved Blanche. The question: to mary Blanche and start the climb to suc- cess in a new community or to continue as editor of the Advo- cate and give up Blanche. I don't know what I would do in such a case. What would you do? What did John do? The power of love is strong. I wonder! tx., I. if IIIIIllIIIIItIIIIIIIllIIIIIllrlllllllrlrlllllllllllll . . . . Page twenty six

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ffm, Qllaafi' v v Never Again By Murrell Godsey l., MEAN it! Never again will I be lured away from my ,if cool, comfortable front porch on a hot summer morn- - ing to go fishing. A First we had to make a raid on our garbage pail I to find an empty cang then armed with spades, we searched for a damp place where those nice, fat brown fishing worms abide. Ugh! Just close your eyes and pick up a handful of these wrigglers and put then in the can: but even now, seven months later, I don't have to close my eyes to feel that horrible, creeping, crawling, quavering sensation when I feel that warm mass of living, squirming worms slide through my fingers. Next we loaded the car with our fishing poles, bait, and lunch. Then, guided by the most enthusiastic of young Isaac Waltons, we headed for the great open spaces. When we reached a certain place, We had to get out and walk the rest of the way through a stretch of woods down to the Creek. We thought it was unbearably hot when we started on our trip, but by the time we had plodded through these woods, slipping on pine tags and rolling logs, brushing webs from our faces and hair, breaking away from the briars which would detain us, We decided that these woods were nearly as hot as Hades. Then, too, we had annexed more guests-uninvited guests, those buzzing, biting insects which want to claim rela- tionship with you. With a pole in one hand and a can of bait in the other, we had little chance of waging a winning engagement with the mosquitoes. How much farther could this creek be? We had gone so far it was silly to turn back now, so, Excelsior l Oh! At last the air felt fresher and cooler, and after clam- bering through another bunch of laurel bushes, we found the elusive creek. We were ready to drop in our tracks, but, if We had, we should have landed in poison ivy, so We had to go on farther up the creek trying to locate an ideal spot for fishing and eating lunch, sans poison ivy. We found it, dropped everything, and sat down on a fallen log. We sat and sat and sat, too tired to talk or move. It seems that you have to put bait on the hook before cast- . . . Page twenty eight