Phillips High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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The Mirror LET ME TELL YOU! It was in the fall of 1936 that our small party entered the icy regions of Northern Canada. We pitched camp by a large mountain —a mountain so high that it took the sun half a day to climb. Every day we went deer hunting but the deer were so fast that we did not have time to raise our guns. We hunted for about a week before a deer was killed. I happened to be the one to kill it. It was on a brisk morning. I was so cold that 1 could have been sold for ice. Well, anyway, I took my trusty “gat” and started up the aforesaid high mountain. I would run a while, then walk a little, and then stand a few minutes behind a tree. After several hours 1 reached the top of the mountain where 1 heard a scratching noise to my right. I glanced quickly in that direction; well, o and behold—there stood a big, beautiful deer nipping frozen leaves. Quickly 1 raised my gun. but by the time I was ready to fire, the deer had gone. Well, it was too late to stop action, so 1 pulled the trigger. If that deer hadn’t been so fast, he would not have been killed; tor by the time the shots had reached the nearby mountain, that deer had reached the top also, and he ran right into my shots—or my shots into him! —Harry Rives A VAGABOND A vagabond in carefree mood Whistled gaily in rapturous solitude. The golden rod was swaying to and fro Along the winding country road. He stopped a while and picked a few, And looked upon the glistening dew. The caressing whisper of the wind Told tales to him that never end. —Eva Lee Frederick [24]

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Tme Mirror superb placement. He was again defending his coveted title. Barron had the speed of an antelope and used it to a great advantage, taking the first set six-two. The second set found Mr.“XM cleverly running Barron all over the court by perfect placements. Nevertheless, Barron’s speed overcame this and he took the onesided set six-one. The crowd started to roar for Barron to make the kill as the third set came up. As the roar died down. Barron saw a change come over Mr. “X”. 'I he hooded face was thrust forward on the bull neck, and a low inhuman chuckle came from behind that mask. The eyes became burning brands of fire. Mr. “X’s” movements were no longer those of a tennis player; he moved with the speed, grace and ease of a panther—stalking the antelope before him. He swung his racket with the speed and power of a striking lion. Cold perspiration stood on Barron's face. He now knew he hadn’t won the last two sets that they were given to him. Mr. X started a barrage of smashing drives to Barron’s backhand, winning almost every point. 1 he “Wonder Boy” tried some old tricks his father had taught him, but Mr. ‘‘X’ was always there. Mr. “X” never let up, never got tired, smashing, driving with killing speed. The crowd started screaming for Mr. “X , the “expert”. Barron’s nerves were ready to break. His opponent’s eyes bored into his very soul always calculating his next move. He wanted to scream for mercy. Barron went to pieces. 1 he Wonder Boy” lost the next three sets winning only three games. Barron, wet with perspiration, came forward to shake the hand of his dcfcater. Mr. X” slipped off his mask—the stands went wild. Barron sucked his breath with surprise. Standing before him with his hand outstretched was his father. Barron dimly heard the crowd shouting, Big Jim Watson! Big Jim Watson! Barron clasped his father’s hand in a firm grip and spoke in a subdued voice. Dad. if you are willing. I want to take those tennis lessons.” The look that Mr. Watson returned his son more than said he was willing. It was a look of reconciliation between father and son. —Bruce Wilson MEMORIES With my memories, Memories of old, 1 am weaving a web A web of gold. [233 —Mary Elizabeth Drake

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T he Mirror THE GHOST WALKS Have you ever seen a ghost walk? I did. last summer. Some little boys in the neighborhood concocted a scheme whereby a ghost would float out of an alley. The ghost was a sheet on a coat hanger attached to a string. The first victims were two negro men, returning from work wearing heavy rubber boots. As they trudged along the street, one said. “How com’ us don't nebber see Joe no mo' ?” “He tolc me dat de don't nebber drive dere car in de day time cause de ain’t got no license: de jes' drives it at night,” replied the second darky. At this point one of them spied the ghost and shouted: “Look a dere. man! Com' on, pick 'em up! The last I saw of them they were galloping around the corner as fast as their heavy boots would allow. Our laughter had hardly subsided when two negro boys came down the alley in which the ghost lay in waiting. Their gay talk and carefree laughter could be heard before they came into view. However, it was not long before other sounds could be heard. Such sounds as: “Lawsv me, a ghost! and Glory be! The first negro had a head start on the second, but the former continued to run until he reached the protection of the street lamp. It was not long before a colored man and woman happened to pass along. These were conversing in loud tones about a friend of theirs. “Dat nigger, said the- woman, “is de laziest, good-for-nothingest piece of trash I’sc ebber seed. “Where do he stay now? asked the man. This question was not answered, and by this time the reason should be obvious. The colored gentleman retraced his steps so quickly that one could almost see the pavement roll up behind him. I’m sure the woman would have quickly followed his lead had not an automobile passed at this inopportune moment. The headlights revealed the .string to which the sheet was attached. The woman tried to tell the man this, but he replied: “No sir, I ain’t gwine dat way. 1 knows a ghost when I sees one! Com’ on here, nigger! And back they went in the same direction from which they had come. —Marjorie Dolvin [25]