Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1917

Page 8 of 48


Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1917 Edition, Page 8 of 48
Page 8 of 48

Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1917 Edition, Page 7
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Page 8 text:

6 THE TARGET As Mr. Wyctt was the one who shot the hawk, he claimed the chicken. He made a splint for its leg of two toothpicks and bound it. For a few days he was very careful in handling the chick and then turned it loose in his own garden, where he kept a pet pig. Imagine my surprise one morning, when I went to see the chick to see it run and jump on the pig’s back as if for protection. Ever since that day, two better chums can not be found. KENNETH FERGUSON. A BAREFOOT BOY. A ragged little boy sat on the creek bank, dangling his bare feet in th e running water. His face, tanned and sunburned, was wreathed with smiles, and his lips were parted, showing white teeth with the taste of strawberries still on them. His dirty pantaloons, frayed and wet at the bottom, were held up by one suspender, which, it was evident, had seen better days. The light fell across his face, showing the ring of straw which served as a hat, and the mop of brown hair under it. As he fished, a squirrel chattered in the walnut tree, a robin flew by with a worn, and a faint cheep-cheep of expectancy came from the nest where her young were waiting. Through the wood could be seen an orchard with ripe apples begging to be eaten. The sun was setting, so the Bare- foot Boy picked up his string of fish, and trudged cherrily along toward home, where he bowl of bread and milk was waiting on the back step. HELEN WOOD. AN INTERESTING INCIDENT. The district between Honkong and the Philippine islands is subject to terrific ocean cyclones or typhoons as they are called. These storms smash against the Chinese coast, doing great damage. Sometimes they turn south toward Singapore. It was one of these that I had the for- tune to be in. We had had an uneventful voyage from San Francisco to Honolulu, from there to Japan, and from Ja- pan to Hongkong. The day after we left Honkong a sticky warm mist suddenly appeared. This is the signal for a storm and so all movable things were made fast and the decks were cleared for action. Late that afternoon the sea began to get rougher, slowly at first then more and more so. At about eight o’clock the passengers were driven to their cabins, and still the storm grew. Finally the steamer, after pitching, rolling and jerking, de- cided to stand on its head and did so several times. Our cabin was on the third deck but even that was not far enough away from the water, for at about midnight a terrific wave crashed against our cabin, breaking open the porthole and flooding everything. Towards morning the storm abated and at about noon that day we were passing through a sea as glassy and slimy as that which Coleridge writes of in the “Ancient Mariner.” After two days of this we arrived at Singa- pore. When we asked the officers if we had been through a typhoon they laughed. We had only passed in the wake; the typhoon had been many leagues away. ADOLPHUS CHEEK.

Page 7 text:

THE TARGET Mr. Tracy’s Hobby It was a hobby of Mr. Tracy, a wealthy cotton mill owner, that it was better to have the children of the city tenements and hovels work in his mill, than to stay in their mis- erable homes, or play in the dirty narrow streets. Even though at times he admitted that the children were poorly paid and underfed, he stuck to his hobby, and accordingly he was opposed to the child labor law. But with his own beautiful daugh- ter, Janice, whom he loved very dearly, it was different. She was of the age of six, and lived in a beautiful home, just outside of the crowded city, surrounded with every luxury. One day while Janice was playing in the lovely park surrounding her home, she was kidnapped, and though the father searched frantically, it was in vain; he could not find her. Now, Mr. Tracy’s mill was better than many, but still the children that worked in it had a hard time and were very thin and worn. But Mr. Tracy knew that if the children did not work for him he would have to hire men and pay them better wages. So when the child labor ques- tion came up again, one year and a half after his child had been stolen, he was still opposed to it and riding his hobby, not only because of having to give higher wages, but because the kidnapping of his daughter had em- bittered him to the world. So he did all he could to prevent the law from passing. After a while the lawyers that were against child labor, persuaded Mr. Tracy to go through some of the worst mills, hoping to open his eyes. The last mill they visited was one of the very worst. Even Mr. Tracy’s embittered heart softened at the sight of the long rows of stunted, coughing, stooping little ones. “This is bad, very bad,” he said to the young lawyer next to him. They came to the end of a long row, when fleecy pieces of lint filled the air like a snow storm, and Mr. Tracy noticed with a pang the small- esth girl he had yet seen stooping over a loom. She was ragged and unkempt, and while he watched her she burst into a fit of coughing. Pity- ingly he put out his hand and touched her shoulder. She turned her face and lifted her dull reddened eyes. Mr. Tracy stared back, and then with a cry caught her in his arms; it was his daughter. Soon after this the child labor law- passed, finding Mr. Tracy highly in favor of it; and thus he lost his hobby. MARJORIE GIRVIN. AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL. Crack! The sound of a gun broke the stillness that had reigned over the farm all morning. Looking in the direction of the sound, I saw a chicken hawk falling to the ground. As it fell, something dropped from its claws. Running to see what it was, I found a little chick about four days old. As it was a peculiar kind, 1 realized it belonged to no one near but had been carried from some distance. At first, the gardener, Mr. Wyett, and I, thought the chicken was dead but we discovered it was simply suffering from a broken leg and fright.

Page 9 text:

THE TARGET Governor Manco and the Chauffeur One bright summer morning a patrol consisting of the old gaso- line refiner, who had distinguished himself in the affair with the con- sumer, a horn manufacturer, and a factory worker, perceived, descend- ing a steep hill near the Alhambra, a man in the garb of a chauffeur, holding back, by a rope attached to the rear axle, a large and powerful touring car of a well-known make. The sight of a chauffeur engaged in such work, immediately put the patrol on the aert, and as the man drew near, the refiner challenged him, saying, “Who comes?’’ “A chauffeur just from the repair shop, with an empty gas tank and a broken emergency brake,’’ was the reply. “I have orders to take any sus- picious characters before Operator Manco, the well-known wireless expert, at this time governor of the Alhambra,” said the refiner. “What? ? Is this the Alhambra I see before me?” exclaimed the chauf- feur. “If so, I have strange things to reveal to the governor.” “You will soon have the chance,” responded the refiner, “for you shall this instant be conducted to him.” So saying, he seized the chauffeur by the arm; the manufacturer and factory-worker put their shoulders to the auto; and all proceeded to the governor. This worthy had only one arm, was dressed in greasy overalls, wore high boots with climbing-irons, and al- ways carried a large monkey- wrench in his belt. He immediately called for the chauffeur’s story. “Well, your Excellency,” began the chauffeur, “after leaving the repair shop, where 1 had been em- ployed to drive the cars in and out, I traveled for one day, and camped among the ruins of what appeared to be the ruins of a large steel mill, but which I afterward found was once a large gasoline refinery. “As I sat there crunching a bit of crust I had brought with me, I heard the chug-chug of a large au- tomobile, and soon a powerful tour- ing car appeared, driven by one who seemed to have been at one time a powerful oil baron. “I offered to share my crust with him, but he refused, and immedi- ately began to fill his gasoline tank. “I then asked for a ride, which re- quest he granted, taking me to a large cavern, where I perceived every conceivable instrument of peace and war scattered about. “When the car stopped, I asked the oil barron whom it might be that I saw upon a high throne at the far end of the cavern. “ ‘Now,’ replied he, ‘that you are in the presence of Mr. O. I. Squeezem, the well-known Wall Street magnate. “ ‘But,’ I exclaimed, ‘he was in his grave long ago!’ “ ‘So you think,’ responded he, ‘but know that he has been shut up here by a powerful enchantment. Watch, you, now my car, while I go and how the knee to Mr. Sqeeuem.’ “As soon as he had left me, I be- gan to debate with myself concern- ing my proper actions under the cir- cumstances. “ ‘Now, thought I, ‘shall I stay here and wait for him, and possibly be

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