Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Text from Pages 1 - 68 of the 1922 volume:

THE TARGET WILLARD JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL JUNE, 1922 BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA The Red, Red Rose JULIA was a stall, slended, fair-complexioned girl, and as pretty as the flowers of her garden. She took such care of her flowers that people came from everywhere to see them. One day as she roamed over the beautiful paths she noticed that some sneak had been stealing her roses and daffodils. She was determined to catch the thief. A week or so later she was playing in the garden, when the gate creaked, and running to see who was there, she noticed a boy hasten- ing down the street with a bouquet of daffodils and roses. Julia called her bull dog, Joe. All she said was, Go it, Joe. The dog was soon running as fast as his legs would carry him after the boy, who was just in time to be saved by a policeman, who put the dog into the pound, and asked where the boy had obtained the flowers. The only answer was, I bought them at the flower shop for my mother. She is very ill, and I must get home. All right, sonny, run along, said the policeman. Joe was going to be put to death, but finding a collar around his neck, the policeman led the dog back to Julia. Julia explained to the policeman how that very boy was the one who had stolen her flowers, and how Joe had gone to bring the boy to her. But the boy bought the flowers, replied the policeman. Well, they were my flowers. With this, Julia burst into tears, and said, He stole them and you do not believe me. She was no longer seen for she had disappeared into the house. One afternoon, a small boy walked up the avenue with a very sad face, so sad that it looked as though his heart would break. And surely it would have had it not been for his pluck. He walked into the florist ' s shop and placed five pennies upon the counter, his very last ; bought some violets, and walked out. He walked down past Miss Julia ' s and looked at the flowers. She ' s got so many, she won ' t care, was his thought. He walked into the yard, taking no precaution whatsoever. He saw some of the most beautiful pink roses. I must have just one! Then he stared until you ' d think his eyes would fall out. He gasped aloud: A red, red rose, won ' t mother love it! He did not give a thought to how much Julia might want it, for there was only one of these wonderful roses, and Julia loved this rose with all her heart. But the rose disappeared with some more beautiful flowers. After he had picked enough he left the yard and started home. As before, he met the policeman. Sonny, where did you get the flowers, huh? I had only five pennies and bought these violets; the other, oh, I picked them in the most beautiful garden, and look ! A red rose. They are for my mother. She is awful sick. Very well, my son, but you must never again take any more flowers from other people. Well, I am going home with you to see your mother. What ' s your name, sonny? Buster. All right, Buster, lead the way. Buster led the way down a dark, dirty street but he stopped at the cleanest old house. He led the way through the front room. Not a speck of dirt could be found anywhere. In on a bed, lying motionless, was the fair, young mother. Mother, dear, I have brought you some flowers, since they are your favorite ones, and best of all, a red, red rose. The mother lay motionless. Buster spoke in vain, for his mother never moved. The policeman wiped away some big tears and said, Come, Buster, we will find your father. But 1 haven ' t any father. Oh! All right, Buster, you will stay with me for awhile. But mother ' s sick and cannot talk, so as to tell me what she wants. Buster, I am afraid your mother will never talk again. The policeman could hardly get Buster away; but finally the two were lost in the crowd. FRANCES RUTH MILLER. THE BIRD ' S SONG There is nothing so sweet as the little bird ' s song, He sings in the tree-tops all the day long; The song that he sings is a message of love Like showers of blessing sent down from above. CAROL FLAHERTY. One Good Turn Deserves Another BILL was a guide. He had lived in the Rocky Mountains nearly all his life. As the Civil War started, he immediately left his home to enlist under General Grant. Bill was feared and hated by all the sur- rounding Indian tribes. Once he had rescued a little lion cub as it was about to drown. He raised it and trained him in the arts of hunting, as he was Bill ' s only friend except his faithful pony. After three years of army life, Bill began to grow tired of the strict army discipline and he longed for his mountain home. One night he secured a horse and left for his home. He rode for several days and reached the town of Independence just as a prairie tram was about to leave for Santa Fe. He succeeded in getting a position as a guide. The next few days the train traveled through the prairie and when the moun- tains were reached Bill left the tram. He was home once more! A few years later, as Bill stood on a high ridge scanning the prairie, he saw below him a large band of Sioux Indians. He followed them. They made camp at sundown. About midnight a large fire was started and a war dance ensued. Bill then remembered that a company of sol- diers was coming to Santa Fe. Bill judged that that was the reason for the uprising of the Indians. He then made his way to the Santa Fe trail. Midday brought him to the company of soldiers. He told what he had seen to the officer in charge. While Bill was talking, the officer recognized him as a deserter. He knew that to send Bill to prison would imperil the soldiers. He therefore hired him as a guide. They reached the mountains about sundown. They made a camp in a canyon. At midnight the small band of soldiers were attacked by the Indians. As the fight started, three Indians entered the tent which Bill and the officer occupied. One of them seemed to be a leader. He announced in very poor English that the palefaces were captives. Bill started whistling some of his favorite pieces. The officer noted that in each piece a high shrill note rang out. Suddenly the tent flap moved and the lion that Bill had raised entered. He stood there looking at the terrified Indians, his eyes gleaming like two fire brands. With a quick lunge one of the Indians fell. Two more rapid death strokes brought down the other two. Then the lion left as quickly as he had entered. The officer stared in bewilderment and finally spoke, One good turn deserves an- other. One evening, later, Bill watched the sun set. He was free! and he gazed upon the only home he had ever known. PHILIP JOHNSON. The Last Ride of the Last Clansman r OLONEL ROBERT SAVILLE, though gray with years, lived alone on his old Southern plantation, with just enough negroes to keep the place looking respectable. He held aloof from the villagers, and seemed to live in memories of days gone by. As a youth, he had fought fearlessly under Lee, throughout the Civil War, from the glorifying early battles, to the dismal battles of the Wilderness. Returning home from the war, he sought to peaceably rebuild his father ' s plantation. However, the newly-freed negroes, under the leader- ship of unscrupulous white men, had control of the legislation, and made life unbearable for their former masters. So the former masters formed a secret organization called the Klu Klux Klan, for the purpose of mak- ing life unbearable for their former slaves. Robert Saville was a leader of one of these bands of night-riders and many a deed of atrocity was performed in order that the masters might be freed from the rule of their former slaves. Finally, the band dissolved, partly because of the opposition of the government and party because their purpose had been accomplished. Robert Saville retained in his possession the records and names of the clan. As the years rolled by and the members of the clan died, Saville placed a cross next to their names, until finally each name had a cross next to it excepting the name of Robert Saville. The year nineteen-twenty found him old, but still able to ride a horse well, and fire still flashed from his eyes. Another band of Klu Klux Klan had formed, for what purpose no one knew. Robert Saville sat, one evening, thinking of his comrades who had passed away, when an old servant came running in and excitedly informed him that he had just seen a large band of clansmen by the lone oak, the meeting place of the former clansmen. He had lived in the memories of the past, but now he lived in the past. His mind lapsed and went back fifty years. He was young, his band was waiting for him. He sprang from his chair with his former agility, and drew his clan uniform from where he had carefully preserved it. He put on the white robe with the crimson cross. He placed on his head the cone-shaped hat. The horse snorted with fright at the strange sight when he at- tempted to mount it, for the horse which had originally carried the clans- man had long since died. He galloped to the lone oak, where about two hundred and fifty men, mounted and robed in white, were assembled. He shouted, Follow! and, half by impulse and half in spirit of adventure, they followed their unknown leader. They galloped through the village. The villagers, awakened from their dreams, rushed out crying, Fire, murder, help, naming about every calamity which could befall a village. It was a wonderful and ghostly sight, two hundred and fifty white- robed men galloping after a mad leader, and the full moon shining upon them. They galloped along the road until looming up in front of them, a hundred soldiers, called by the frightened villagers, stood ready to oppose them. The would-be clansmen scattered in all directions, excepting the mad leader, who charged at the thin line of troops. In his mind his former clansmen were charging behind him, and what could that thin line before him do against the impact of a cavalry charge of the Flower of the South? The soldiers stood amazed at such a strange sight ; the moon shining over the scene, the village lights flashing on behind, clansmen disappear- ing in the distance, and one lone clansman, charging straight at them. One soldier alone fired, and the clansman fell from his horse — dead. They were surprised, indeed, when, lifting the hood, the stately face of Colonel Saville was revealed. The next day, the mayor, in going over the belongings of Colonel Saville, came across the records and names of the clan, and being a loyal Southerner, he placed a cross next to the name of Robert Saville, and then threw the records into the fire. WILLARD COWARD. TO-MORROW Don ' t put off ' till to-morrow What you can do to-day, Because the very next time It will be the same way; If some one offered a present, I ' m sure you wouldn ' t say : I ' ll get it some other time; I can ' t to-day. LOUIS MOMYER. The Legend of the Three Hills THERE are three hills near the walls of the Alhambra. These h lis were enchanted by a Moorish wizard, who gave the charm, a piece of Moorish money, to the last Moorish king. He must have lost it in his hurried flight from the Alhambra, for although legends told of its magic power, and many people searched for it, never had it been seen. One day Pedro Gill, Son of the Alhambra, was loitering in the garden below the town of Comares, when his eye was attracted by the glitter of some object on the ground under an orange tree. Picking it up and examining it curiously, he found it to be an old Moorish coin. Pedro put the strange money in his pocket. Late that night, returning from Granada, he was about to enter the gate of the Alhambra, when he saw a beautiful Moorish princess. He was surprised and frightened to see her. She told him not to be afraid, but to bring his cart and follow her, and that the coin he had found that day would bring him great riches. But you must not speak a word, for the moment you speak, the charm will be broken, she said. He followed her to the first hill. She waved her hand and a great door opened. Enter, she said, and take all you can carry in one trip. He saw three chests filled with gold. Taking the largest chest, he placed it in the cart. He then followed the Princess to the second hill. She waved her hand again. Enter, she said, and take all you can carry out at one time. He filled his pockets with the jewels and took the largest sack, and put it in his cart. Now follow me to the last and largest hill, and here you may take all the gold and jewels the hill contains, and they are more valuable than the other two put together. She waved her wand, and the huge door opened. The room was filled with the most wonderful jewels, with sacks and chests of gold and silver. When Pedro saw them he cried out, Moorish jewels! Moorish gold! The great door closed. The Princess vanished, and Pedro found himself standing alone just outside the wall of the Alhambra. He thought at first that he had been dreaming, but turning, beheld his cart with the chest and sack of gold and jewels. Rejoicing, he quickly made his way home, and from that night lived a life of leisure, no longer Pedro the Ragged, but Pedro the Rich. BOUCHER SNYDER. Billie ' s Golden City BILLI E sat curled up in grandfather ' s big chair, in front of the fire- place, reading from his new story book of the princess and the dragon. How he wished some beautiful fairy would come to h.m and take him to visit wonderland. He wished not in vain, for out of the bright flame appeared a wonderful fairy with long golden hair and so radiant that it almost hurt Billie s eyes to look at her. Her dress was of flame color and she had large beautifully colored wings. Billie, she said, what do you want? Where do you want to go? You have been such a good boy, I will repay you by taking you wherever you would like to go. Her voice was so sweet and mellow that Billie v anted to hear her talk. Oh, said Billie, take me to wonderland to see the little elves and all the pretty things. The next moment he found himself with the fairy in a large city. The gates were of shining gold and shone radiantly. Billie and the fairy entered. The streets were of pure gold and every- thing was shining with diamonds and precious stones. The fairy took him to the palace of this wonderful city and the sight was so magnificent that he could hardly believe his eyes. The castle was as large as two city blocks. Billie entered and was taken to see the king of this wonderland. The king received him hospitably and told him about his wonderful city. He said, Our city is run by love and justice, we have but one law and that is love. Everyone knows the other and helps the other. Oh, cr ed Billie, May I live here? Well, said the king, down where you live is some wonderful trailing arbutus and before anyone can live in this city he must bring some- thing which will benefit or beautify it. This arbutus is way out on the edge of a forest and on the brink of a great precipice. If you can get this you will be justly awarded and be one of us. Billie was overjoyed and said, I will try, and he found himself back in his own land. Immediate- ly he began his search. Far out into the great forest he wandered. Through the great woods he followed the paths until he came to a great precipice and there, quite a way down, he sa w this wonderful arbutus. Oh, I can get that, said Billie, and so he tied a rope around his waist and then securely fastened the other to a tree near by. Just as he was about to grab the large bush of arbutus, he noticed that right in the center of it was a nest of beautifully colored eggs, and then he saw a bird above who seemed to be in deep distress. Billie stopped. This was the bird ' s nest; he couldn ' t take it. No, said Billie, I would love to go to that wonderful city but I can ' t spoil the nest. He pulled himself up, with great tears in his eyes and tried hard to be contented. Just then the fairy appeared and said, Well done, you have earned a home in our city. Your sacrifice has been sufficient, your love has proved true enough, and your heart is kind enough to be one of us. Billy was overjoyed. He had been put to a test and passed. His conscience was greater than his wishes, and by thinking more of others than himself he had gamed his long looked-for hope. As Billie stood in utter amazement and bewilderment, the sky opened, and there he saw his wonderful city as the lights flashed, and, lo and behold, he had been dreaming and the crackle of the bright fire in front had awakened him. Billie sat and wondered. What a wonderful dream! And how true it was. If he lived entirely for others while on this great earth, he could be- come a citizen in God ' s wonderful city, which was founded on love and peace. Is it worth it? thought Billie. Oh yes, a hundred times yes. Just think, to be able to live in the Great Golden City, all could be his for mere obedience and love and Willingness to do for others. BRUCE GEORGE. A SEAGULL If I had choice of bird or beast A seagull I would be, On worms and starfish I would feast, And I ' d float upon the sea. I ' d sit upon the dock and sun My feathers clean and neat, I would not like the folks who come And scared me from my seat. In the morning on the sea, On the rolloing waves I ' d rock, And when at last I tired would be I ' d find some wharf or dock. If I had choice of bird or beast A seagull I would be, On worms and starfish I would feast Instead of cake or tea. DORIS ROBRECHT. Saved by a Mountain Lion ONE morning in their spring vacation Tom and Bill started on a hike. They had just come from the city to visit their uncle ' s ranch in the mountains, so this was their first hike. The trail they took was an old lumber road. Nobody ever used this road except occasionally to hunt, or to look for stray cattle. The boys had gone quite a way when suddenly Bill stopped, and exclaimed, What was that noise? I didn ' t hear anything unusual, said Tom. No? I heard something. Listen, said Bill. As the boys rounded a corner they saw, to their surprise and delight, two little bear cubs playing. The cubs would cuff each other and tumble over each other and yet hardly hurt themselves at all. The boys crept closer and closer, not seeing the mother bear, who was very anxious about her cubs. As soon as she saw them she started to chase them. She chased them until they were about ready to drop from exhaustion, when all at once one of her cubs gave a cry of distress. The bear immediately left the boys and ran to see what the matter was. A large mountain lion was about to spring on one of the cubs. Suddenly a large meteorite made of fur, claws and teeth landed on the back of the astonished lion. A long, hard fight ensued, in which the mother bear finally won. The boys, however, did not stay to see the fight, and it was a pair of tired, scared boys who reached home that night. STUART GRINNELL. UNDER THE SUMMER SKY How blithely the father sings ! As softly the brook does run ; What has the mother under her wings, As she sits in the summer sun? Oh, hush ! See what appears, As father spreads his wings to fly ! The fuzzy heads of five little dears Under the summer sky. ELEANOR CORBETT. A Visit to the Underworld THE old naturalist left his cabin and strolled leisurely along a well- worn path. For twenty years he had lived in seclusion except for his faithful dog, Dannie. He amused himself by reading, catching rare butterflies and by playing the flute, upon which he was quite expert. Saunter-ng along, he arrived at a small cove where, at one side, was the opening of a large cave. Throwing h;mself down upon the grass, the naturalist opened his book and began to read. Thunderbolts are caused by two different clouds colliding, he repeated to himself. Dannie hear- ing his master ' s voice, wagged his ta:l and laid himself at the side of his master. It seems a pity, continued the naturalist, that men at one time believed gods caused them. The naturalist laid his book down and began studying the scenery around h:m. Suddenly he saw a dark shadow hovering about the mouth of the cave. Then the dark mass assumed its form and the naturalist recognized his old enemy — Death! The old natuarlist tried to escape but Death pursued. The naturalist ' s dog stared in bewilderment at his master ' s strange actions. Finally, the naturalist gave in and turned to follow his conqueror. Death led the way, the naturalist following. Through the mouth of the cave they went. The naturalist, looking back, saw his dog stand- ing at the mouth of the cave whining for him. He paused on the way, but Death tapped on his shoulder, so taking a last look at his faithful dog, the naturalist turned and continued his journey. Far into the caves he traveled, never stopping to eat or drink. Suddenly he saw a light far in the distance. Ah, said the old naturalist, at last we have come to the opening. But when he had gone a way he found it was only the brilliant rubies, sapphires and diamonds of Proserpine ' s robes. Finally he was in the presence of Pluto and Proserpine themselves. Then Death spoke. Your Majesty, King of the Underworld, I have brought you here a mortal who dares to say that the thunderbolts are not made by his majesty, Jupiter, ruler of Heaven and earth. Pluto pointed to the naturalist and demanded, And what have you to say, you impudent mortal? The naturalist answered with a quavering voice, Well, your Honor, you see I always understood that thunder was caused by two clouds colliding. What! exclaimed Pluto. This is too much, such ignorance. Don ' t you know that immortals use the cloud form to conceal themselves while fighting? Then Jupiter uses the lightning to find the fighters and the thunderbolt to stop the fight. Now, I ' ll give you just time enough to learn something before I call you here for good. Getting up from his throne, Pluto poked the naturalist with his trident, yelling, Return to earth, mortal, and for Hades ' sake learn something before you come here again. The naturalist, seeing his chance of returning to the earth, and prompted by Pluto ' s poke, made a dash for the way to earth. The way seemed longer and colder, so the naturalist lay down to rest, but fell asleep. Upon waking up he found himself in the cove, where darkness had already fallen. RUTH C. MILLER. INNOCENTS ABROAD TO-MORROW was Muster Day and my great grandfather had prom- ised to take Isaac, the oldest of his twelve children, to the village where the Minute Men assembled to tram. Isaac, very much excited, called his two little brothers, Andrew, aged 3, and Albert, aged 2, and told them that if they went to the top of a little knoll, about a mile away, they could hear the music and the cannon. About four o ' clock the following morning, Andrew woke little Albert and the two babies started out. After trudging along in the cold for an hour they reached the knoll. The sound of music was so fascinating that Andrew, taking his brother by the hand, began to walk in the direc- tion of the village. Along about noon, two little figures appeared in the square where the drilling was going on. One was dressed in his little nightgown, dyed with smart-weed, and the other in his everyday clothes. A farmer, strolling past, noticed Andrew and said, Well, if those ain ' t Prescot Young ' s babies. Come here, I ' ll take you to yer daddy. Their father was very much surprised to see his youngsters at the muster and readily gave his consent when the farmer offered to take them home. At length the tired children arrived at the farm, to the joy of their poor mother who had been hunting them all day. She gave Andrew a spanking and Albert some bread and milk. BARBARA YOUNG. A Compromise ¥ WON ' T! I won ' t! I won ' t! screamed Peggy, emphasizing each 1 won ' t with the stamp of her foot. Peggy ' s ancestors were from Ireland, and Peggy inherited a temper which the orphan asylum only made worse. You will, replied Miss Preston, tersely. I won ' t, replied Peggy, looking at her with blazing eyes and her two braids sticking out obstinately in different directions. You will go up to your room without any supper. I shall come up later to see if you have changed your mind. Go. Peggy went — as far as the door — then turned around. I ' ll never eat another prune, so there, and she stamped up the stairs into her room. I won ' t! I won ' t! she cried, throwing herself on the bed and punching the pillow at each outburst. The only response was a faint meow. Peggy giggled hysterically. I do declare, she said, I forgot all about you. Come here. The cat came, but not of its own accord, for Peggy pulled it out by one leg. The cat, however, was nothing of beauty, as one ear was gone and its color was white, or maybe, gray; it was such a dirty creature, no one could tell. Thump ! Thump ! Thump ! Some one was coming up the stairs. The cat immediately disappeared into the waste basket, which was the nearest thing at hand, and was covered by an old dust cloth that should have been used to better advantage. The matron appeared at the door. Peggy had expected Miss Preston to come. Well! exclaimed Miss Preston. Peggy said nothing. There was silence for a few minutes. Miss Preston glanced around the room; dust met her eye everywhere. At last her glance traveled to the waste basket. Here, she said, grabbing the cloth, take this — and — her voice trailed off as she spied the kitten. Where did you get that creature? she inquired. That creature rubbed against her in the most sociable manner. Found him, replied Peggy, promptly. Where? Miss Preston was stern. In the alley back of the barn. Take it away anywhere. Get rid of it. It is a pest, commanded Miss Preston, and a lecture on cats followed. I won ' t, replied Peggy, her fiery nature aroused again. Back and forth the battle raged for quite a while, Peggy pleading the kitten ' s cause and Miss Preston loudly declaring it a pest. Tired out, Miss Preston finally said, if you ' ll eat prunes, I ' ll let you keep it. Peggy struggled between her love for the kitten and her hatred for prunes. At last she feebly guessed she could eat prunes. Miss Preston departed wearing a victorious smile. The kitten curled up in its new mistress ' lap and went to sleep. ELEANOR WELLS. THE PINTO PONY SITUATED in a large horseshoe bend of the Yellowstone River is Pompey ' s Pillar, a rocky formation, which rises from the river bottom. On one side of the bend was a slough in what had been the old river bed. Toward the north and a little to one side rose the bad land bluffs from fifty to one hundred feet. The rest of the bend was prairie, dotted here and there with sage brush and clumps of wild grass. It was in this bend that two companies of cavalry, under the com- mand of Captain Baker, had made camp in the late spring of 1 877. It was a year after Custer ' s Last Stand, and the people in that section ot the country were afraid of Indian raids. The wagon trains were at this time bringing provisions to the many mining towns and these must be pro- tected. So the cavalry were out scouting the country. Early one morning the pickets came running into camp with word that the Indians were coming. Instantly every man in camp was astir. The horses were driven among the cottonwood trees that followed the bank inside the bend, for protection against bullets and stampede. The soldiers lay down in the slough With their guns by their side, ready for instant action. Then above the bluffs the Indians appeared, creeping from bush to boulder and firing down on the soldiers. As the fight progressed, the Indians grew bolder. To be brave is part of the Indian ' s religion and the Crow Ind ans were very brave. On their ponies they would come at full gallop down the line of solders for a half or three-quarters of a mile, yelling and waving their war bonnets and guns, then they would disappear behind the bluffs. One Indian, in particular, the white men noticed. He was a finely built brave riding a pinto pony. Twice he had passed, but nearer to them than the rest of the Indians. Lieutenant Hard, one of the officers in charge of the scouting party, said to his companion: The next time that fellow passes I ' m going to get him. It went down the line that Lieutenant Hard, who was known as a dead shot, was going to kill the Indian on the pinto horse. When the Indian appeared around the bluff the soldiers stopped firing in his direction and waited to se what would happen. Lieutenant Hard climbed out of the slough and, dropping on one knee, took careful aim, and then slowly and deliberately pulled the trigger. Both horse and rider fell. When Lieutenant Hard had appeared above the bank the Indians concentrated their fire on him, but he rolled over the bank and into the slough to safety. Hardly pausing in their gallop, some of the braves circled around the fallen Indian, picked him up and carried him from the battlefield. Several months later Lieutenant Hard boarded a steamer bound down the Mississippi River. There were also some commissioners on board who were taking a Crow Indian chief and some prominent men of the tribe to Washington, D. C, to see about a reservation for their tribe. In the evening spent on the boat the white men and Indians would gather in the smoking room. The Indians, squatting about the room, did little conversing themselves, but with the aid of the interpreter, listened to the tales the white men told. It came to be Lieutenant Hard ' s turn and he told about the fight at Pompey ' s Pillar and of the Indian on the pinto pony. The interpreter repeated it to the Indians almost as fast as Lieutenant Hard told it. When he had finished, a fine stalwart Indian brave walked up to him and said, How. Then, with the interpreter ' s help, he told of his third ride on the pinto pony of which Lieutenant Hard had spoken. He showed the scars where the bullet had passed through both legs. In doing this it had passed through the backbone of the horse, which accounted for its fall and the ride ' s narrow escape. This is a true story, told to me by my uncle, Lieutenant Hard. IRENE FISH. The Battle of Wil son ' s Creek WHEN I read in my history about some fearful battle, where great numbers of brave soldiers are killed, it seems very dreadful for the time, but it is so soon forgotten. As soon as grandmother tells me about the things she actually saw, it is so much more real and exciting. When the war was raging in Missouri between the North and the South, great bands of men, not really belonging to the Southern army, but who were on the Confederate side, carried on constant Guerilla warfare. These lawless bands of men were also called Bush-whackers, by the Federalists. They were a constant source of terror and danger to all Northern sympathizers. Any family who lived m Missouri and was known to favor the anti-slavery cause was marked by them for death. A gam and again they terrorized tow ns and villages by means of frequent raids and surprises. There were many of them in Missouri and the other border states, especially on the Confederate side. The Guerillas had a curious way of signaling to their own men. All through Missouri the sumac grows wild along the roads. It is a bush with a dark leaf — the under side of the leaf is almost white. The Guerillas, as they drove along the paths, would break two branches of sumac and cross them so that the white side of the leaf would show. This was the signal that some member or band had passed by, and pointed the way to anyone following. Night after night, my grandmother says she has heard the frightful cry, or war whoop that these men would give, and the hideous sound would echo from one high hill, where some of these Guerillas would be, to another group on another hill far away. They plundered stores, stole horses, burned houses, and never hesitated to kill a Northern man on sight. My great grandfather was well known as a Northern sympathizer. Because of the training he had had in England as a doctor and surgeon, he was called repeatedly to care for the wounded. There wasn ' t a night, however, that he was safe. His life was constantly in danger. The family owned a large dog called W atch. He was the de- voted friend and playmate of all the children. One dreadful night, when the wild war whoops were continually heard, poor Watch was killed by a band of Guerillas. He ran under the house and howled all night before he died. No one could go to him because it meant certain death to do so. The very night that Watch was killed, the Guerillas drove to the house and demanded that my gr eat grandmother tell where great grand- father had gone. There had been no chance for escape, except to the attic of the house. There was a roof below one of the attic windows, so that in an emergency, if he heard them searching the house, my great grandfather thought he could drop out of the window onto the roof, and from there to the ground and escape to the woods. The Guerillas came into the house, sat down before the big open grate fire, and demanded that my great grandmother tell where great grandfather had gone. They did not dream that he was at home, in the attic hiding, and waiting for the least movement, and search for him. They finally left the house without going up the stairs. It was one of many terrible experiences en- dured during the war. Great grandmother was afra.d that she might in some way betray his secret. She succeeded in making them believe that she did not know- where he was. They evidently thought her worried look was due to the uncertainty of his condition. MARY ELIZABETH MCLAUGHLIN. ONE GREATER THING JACK MENLOU, a senior at Yale, was listed to run in the track meet against Harvard. He was the best quarter-mile runner in Yale. He had won the cup twice before but to call it his own he had to win it three times. It was the largest trophy offered for the track meet. When he had entered Yale, everything he had hoped for, dreamed of and done was for the object of gaining that cup. One day as he was walking on the grounds, one of the students stopped him, a thing they seldom did, as he was not liked very well by his fellow students. Jack, he said, I suppose you have heard that our only miler, Henry Young, has broken his ankle and will not be able to compete in to- morrow ' s meet? Heavens! That ' s a shame, and what are you going to do about it? We thought maybe you would take a chance and try and win it for us. You know you are next to Young in running. Young Doil can win the quarter mile for us, as Harvard has a very poor man running for them this time. I ' m sorry, Al, but my heart is set on the trophy for the quarter- mile, besides it wouldn ' t do me much good to try to run against Murphy. You know I am not as good as Henry Young. Sorry, so long. Jack walked slowly through the grounds and suddenly came upon his best and only friend in Yale, Old Jim, the Scotchman. Well, laddie, he said, they ' ll be startin ' the mile pretty soon. Jack, laddie, you will be goin ' in for the mile, won ' t you? No, Jim, I have my heart set on that trophy. I ' m bound to get it. Don ' t be sayin ' that, Jack. You ' ll go in for the sake of your school, won ' t you? Jack walked off, wondering at his selfishness and his lack of school spirit. While practicing his quarter-mile dash, he suddenly changed his mind and decided to run the mile for the sake of his best friend and his school. The time soon came for him to run. He and Murphy prepared for the start. Before Jack realized it, the word Go! was uttered. He went easily at first. Murphy went with all his might, so he was ahead of Jack. Jack realized that he was behind so he gritted his teeth and went with all his strength. Gradually he began to gam on Murphy and when they reached the line he was about a second ahead. Jack then decided that his school always came first. He said it was The One Greater Thing. VIRGINIA NICHOLS. PIPES OF PAN In woodlands shrouded by the trees Among the beauteous scented flowers, Lilting to the droning of the bees, Mingling with the sparkling April showers, There sound the Pipes of Pan. Enthralling by their soothing spell, While dreary sadness turns and flees, Echoing through the green and massy dell, Soft and low, in plaintive melodies, Are heard the Pipes of Pan. ELVIRA HUGHES. THE SEA Out on the sea! Cut on the sea! That is where I want to be. w here ' gainst the ships the waves dash high, Beneath the perfect sunlit sky, With blue above and blue below, The sea ! The sea ! I love it so. Once more I see the foam so white, And moonlight on the sea at night. There are some birds, but they are few, Just above the waves so blue. It seems to me so like a dream, When first it turns to a silvery green, Then turns again to a marvelous blue ; I can ' t help loving it, can you? EVELYN BOOTHE. The House on the Harbury Moor ' I ' HE following unusual mystery was lately revealed in The London Research, a magazine published by a museum society of that city. On the outskirts of the country town of Harbury, near London, there is an old dilapidated house in which a mysterious old man lived. The house is a three-stor:ed structure, built a half a mile or so out on the moor, at the edge of Harbury. The nearest house was one-eighth of a mile away and its occupants stated there was no evidence of life on the three upper stories. In the basement the old man had his home. Every Wednesday a large wagon would back up to the door and the two men who drove it would carry many wooden boxes into the base- ment. These boxes bore an unusual resemblance to coffins, though they were only three feet long. Each night the passersby on the road near the house would hear loud sounds of splintering wood, and when they approached the house they could hear the old man pacing up and down on the flagstones that covered the cellar floor, muttering imprecations and bemoaning himself and his fate. Many thought that he was out of his mind, but this was later proved untrue. Often they could hear faint taps that sounded as if he were tapping a piece of pottery with a stick and then a loud crash resembling the sound of a breaking bottle. The villagers were very superstitious and, therefore, no steps were taken to investigate the mysterious house, out of whose chimney black smoke was always issuing. At last the time came when no smoke came from the chimney and no lights could be seen in the basement. Next Wednesday the wagon came but returned unemptied, through the village. The postmaster then summoned the London bobbies, who immediately broke in the cellar door. The first thing they saw was the dead body of the old man lying across the prostrate form of a black cat. In the m:ddle of the room was a great clay furnace and back of it were great piles of coffin-like boxes. One or two were broken open, which explained the sounds of splintering wood. Half dragged out of these boxes were forms of what seemed to be dead cats. On all sides of the room were deep recesses which were filled with all kinds and sizes of vases. The old man ' s diary told of the unearth:ng of mummified cats in Egypt. After investigation he had learned that mummified bodies would make a terrific heat when put into a fire. He immediately made arrangements with a museum expedition to send four hundred cats to the house on the moor. He had a new device with which he expected to manufacture a wonderful glaze finish vase. The last few sentences in the diary explained the tragedy: This is my one hundred and fifty-first experiment. If it fails I shall not survive the shock. ... I open the door — . In front of the furnace was a broken vase that had evidently fallen from a nearby shelf. It might have fallen from the furnace door, but this was not the case. Inside the furnace was a rich and expensive vase that was covered with a marvelous glaze worth thousands of pounds. JACK BOEGLE. THE HIGH SCHOOL MAID With a pile of books and a bag of lunch, And a look of Who ' s afraid? She starts away quite early, This little high school maid. With a nod and a smile for everyone, And a hearty shake of the hand. She trudges along quite gaily, This lass of the high school land. ALICE HALL. orest Fancies MARGARET was on her way to the Great Forest with the Martins. They whirled along the shady road chatting occasionally, but when they came to the Great Forest they were awed into silence by the grand old guards that had stood for centuries. My, almost whispered Margaret, as they softly sped over the thick carpet of pine needles, my, I would hate to get lost in here. Why, Peggy, exclaimed Merry Jeanne, with a laugh, all you would have to do would be to ask Pan to help you. Don ' t you remember what Miss Riley was telling us about yesterday? Yes, indeed, I do remember, but I do not think I will have to follow your suggestion. How dark it is getting as the trees grow thicker. They went on a little farther into the gradually darkening forest, and then stopped to picnic. After lunch the two girls wandered off and were soon swallowed up by the trees. Oh, Peggy, exclaimed Jeanne, after they had walked some dis- tance, I left my watch with the lunch and it may be thrown away. I must get it! Just go on. I will catch up with you, and she darted away. On and on Margaret rambled, forgetting where she was, so deep was she in her thoughts. Finally, she came to herself with a start, and looking at her watch, exclaimed, Why, she has been gone half an hour, and I didn ' t know it. I had better hurry back, it must be time to start home, and she hurried off in the direction she thought she had come. After half an hour of wandering, completely dazed, she at last sat down, and leaning her head against a tree, closed her eyes wearily. The next instant she started up in surprise. Why, where does that exquisite music come from? she thought. Looking through the trees, she saw the queerest object she had ever laid eyes on — a creature, half man, half goat, dressed in a skin, sat with his legs crossed on a stump, playing on reed pipes. His shaggy bearded countenance looked somewhat familiar. It ' s Pan himself, she whispered, half delighted, half frightened. Indeed, it is Pan, answered that person, removing his pipes to answer her. Won ' t you come and listen to my music? Then he turned, and putting his pipes to his hps, played such exquisite music that even the birds ceased their singing to listen, and at once, from all sides, came floating nymphs and dryads. They came in groups, dancing and swaying, graceful and slender, like flowers in the breeze. F Now, when he had finished, I have played for you, and my little playfellows will help you find your friends. The lovely nymphs crowded about her, and taking her hands, seemed to lead her, calling in soft and sweet persuading tones. She stumbled, and sitting up, found Jeanne shaking her and crying, Peggy! Peggy! in her ear, and there stood Mr. Martin, looking anxiously at her. Come, Jeanne and Mar- garet, he said, we must start back, or your mother will think we kidnaped you. When they were in the machine on the way home, she whispered in Jeanne ' s ear: Oh, Jean, I saw Pan and all of the nymphs and dryads. I wish you could have been with me and seen that all was true that Miss Rily told us about Pan and his music. ELIZABETH BIGGERSTAFF. THE CACTUS PLANTS PEDRO, a little Mexican boy, lived in the desert country of Southern California. His home was m a little two-room hut up a small canyon. It was several miles to the nearest school, so Pedro always rode a donkey. Now, both had bad tempers, Pedro ' s perhaps the most violent. This was a bad combination. One hot afternoon in early fall, when the two were slowly return- ing from school, the Mexican boy seemed especially irritable. It had been a bad day at school for him, and his donkey would not go fast enough to suit. After withstanding several blows, the enraged animal lifted up his hind legs and consequently, poor Pedro was flung into the air. He landed in a patch of prickly cactus. His donkey started off towards home, which luckily, was not far away. As it was fall, the beautiful creamy-yellow cactus flowers were in full bloom. The blossoms on this group of plants seemed to be larger and more satiny than any of the others. Taking no notice of this, Pedro, in his anger, took a stick and beat the bushes all to pieces. He little thought of the damage he was creating. The cactus bushes, being the only ones in that vicinity, were a shelter to many little animals. Thinking the bushes were beaten sufficiently, Pedro sat down to pick the stickers from his trousers. Suddenly, he noticed something kicking. It was a poor little rabbit that he had unkowingly injured with his stick. Pedro lifted the little animal into his arms and started for home. When they arrived, Pedro put the rabbit m a box and fed it. The boy ' s mother then said to him, Pedro, where did you find this little rabbit? She heard Ped.o ' s story and told him about the little creatures that depend upon the cactus for a Living. The timid little rabbits seek refuge in its shade, the birds make their meals from its fruit and the little mice have their nests underneath. When the little rabbit was stronger, Pedro let it go one morning on h:s way to school. It crept thankfully under a large cactus bush and Pedro rode happily onward. MARY GRIXXELL. OUR SQUIRREL FRIEND ONE summer mv family and I took our vacation in the Sierra Moun- tains. We made the acquaintanc e of many animals and birds, but the one we liked best was a squirrel. His name was Nip Ear, because he had been bitten by a dog on his ear. This happened when we first came. My sister, as soon as she was told about it, gave him his name. Every morning we would put a few nuts on our porch for h:m. and then retire to the house to watch him eat. I had always had a longing to feed him with my own hands, and, as he became more and more tame, I resolved to try it. One morning, instead of doing as usual with the nuts, I sat on the steps with them in my lap. In this position, I waited for what seemed to me an hour, but m reality it was only a few minutes. Finally the little squirrel ran down a tree, and was about to come up the steps, when suddenly he stopped short, his front feet in the air, looking at me suspiciously. hen he saw I did not move, he came slowly up to where I sat, never taking his eyes off me. Suddenly he grabbed a nut and scampered off to a safe distance and ate it. These actions he repeated until all the nuts were gone, each time with less suspicion. After this I often fed him in that way. He grew very tame and once even ventured to climb on my shoulder. But I fed him only once after this. One day, a few men with guns, and hunting clothes on, came up the road. A squirrel ran across in front of them. W e were almost panic- stricken, for we recognized him as Nip Ear. The foremost man shot and our little friend fell on the ground. The man who had shot ad- vanced and picked him up and threw him in the bushes. After that little Nip Ear never visited up again. KATHERIXE DEACOX. The Thrilling Experience of a Little Calf IN THE winter of 1893, while my father had charge of a large ranch on the Sacramento River, there were quantities of snow in the mountains, which melted and caused the river to rise at the rate of one inch per hour. My father saw the danger of the river overflowing its banks and also the levees, which are made of dirt piled up several feet high above the river bank to protect the farms. He called his working men together and they filled sacks with dirt and piled them on top of the levee. They saw that the water would soon overflow the sacks of dirt, so the men raised the levee by using long boards, twelve inches wide. Even this was not sufficient and they saw that, in spite of their efforts, the water would creep over the top of the boards and flood the land. The next thing to do was to save the horses and cows, and all were turned loose except one little calf which was left in the barn by mistake. My father and the men were compelled to desert the farm in order to save their lives. The next day they returned in boats, riding over the top of the fences. The water had come in with such force that the house had been turned around and shifted to another spot. The water stood about three feet deep in the house and was rushing with great speed around the corners of the house and barn. During the flood some boards had been torn off of the barn at one corner and this little calf had walked out. My father found him standing in scarcely any water, while all around him the water was about three feet deep. On account of the swiftness of the water, it rushed around the corner of the barn, leaving a little shallow place where the calf found room to stand and thereby save his life. The men put him in their boat and took him to safety. MARY ROBIN STEINER. WILDFIRE LAST summer when I was north visiting relatives, a rodeo was held in town. Among the horses was a wonderful, milk-white Arabian steed. He was very high-spirited and the most beautiful animal I have ever seen. Arabian horses are very rare in this country so my father and I, both being very fond of horses, inquired about this unusual creature. The manager, Mr. Hayden, informed us that the horse had lived the earlier part of his life on the Arabian desert. Wildfire, so named because of his unusal fleetness, was slenderly built. His small hoofs and tapering legs carried him over the ground with marvelous speed. Large intelligent eyes were set widely apart in his spirited head. His massive neck was arched gracefully. A long, silken mane flowed down upon his shoulder, adding to his beauty. At my first opportunity I went up to Wildfire to make friends with him. I saw from his actions that he was gentle, notwithstanding his noticeable spirit. When I advanced to pat him on his glistening coat he made no attempt to jerk back upon his halter-rope, but leaned toward me and rubbed his nose upon my shoulder in a thoroughly friendly manner. I had candy in my pocket and offered him a piece. He took it from the palm of my hand daintily. After eating it, he stretched his upper lip high above his teeth, causing it to quiver, as if in appreciation of my sweets. I imagined he was taking this horse-fashion of thanking me. All too soon I had to leave him. When I turned away Wildfire whinnied a soft goodbye, regretfully, I thought. But his regret could not have been half so great as mine. A lump came to my throat as I parted with this beautiful and gentle-mannered fellow, the handsomest horse I have ever seen. MARGARET THOMAS. ARROW, MY PONY I HAVE a pony, and his name is Arrow. The reason I named him Arrow is because he is as sharp as an arrow. I mean to say, he is very bright. Every morning, after breakfast, we go out into the yard and have school together. That sounds strange, but it is true. First I say A, and he stands up on his hind legs; that means the letter A. I say B, he turns around; C, he paws the ground three times; for D he shows his teeth; for E he lays his ears flat down on his head; for F he lifts up one little hoof and I shake hands (and hoofs) with him; G, he runs, jumps over a fence and is back again with me; for H he lies down on the ground for one minute; at I he runs up to me, I get him, and we go for a little ride. That is as far as I have taught him. But we intend to master the whole alphabet and then seek more to conquer. MARY BURG. A PRINCE THERE WAS Long ago, the minstrel sang, A prince rode out to war; And did great deeds, as I have heard, That ne ' er have been before. He rode far up the dales and down, Upon a great white horse A.nd finally came upon a town, And burst right in by force. And there he found a beauteous maid, With hair as fair as gold; And she upon his neck did fall, And him her story told. And after he had rescued her And taken her to his home, He married her on Christmas Day, Her gown was just like foam. BARBARA KIERULFF. FARM AFFAIRS IT WAS nearing twilight and the large red sun, as it slowly disappeared behind the horizon, changed into many queer and gaudy shapes and forms. Silhouetted on the brink of a low hill, among the waving wheat, which tossed about like a restless sea with each little breath of wind, stood Manual. Manual was the hired farm hand on the Canfield ' s ranch, and owing to his great strength, could do the work of three men. He gazed over the vast fertile valley thoughtfully for a moment and then descended. Follow- ing close behind him with drooping heads and scraggly manes and tails, which waved in the breeze, paced Bessy and Dan. Bessy and Dan were the two large work horses on the farm. Both seemed tired and hungry from a hard day ' s hay bucking, and longed for a good refreshing roll on the soft turf in the corral before retiring. As Manual came sauntering along, whistling the popular tune of that time, We, we Marie, which he often played at the town dances on his harmonica, he was stopped by May Rupe, the red-haired cook, whose pies Manual was always ready to eat. She looked upon the powerful form and handsome features of Manual and exclaimed in surprise, Why, Manual Dutro, do ya realize that yer all cut and bruised up. No doubt ya have upset the hay wagon again, and set the Mrs. back another fifty for repairs. Come with me and I ' ll fix ya all up honkey dory, if ya stop that dern whistlin ' . Aw, May, responded Manual in a husky voice, I ain ' t hurt. Bessy wanted to go one way and Dan the other as I was about to cross Straw bridge, and the result was — in the ditch. Most of the hay went one me and a pitch fork insisted on taking a hunk out of my shoulder, as you see. I thing I ' ll pull thru all right, though. That is, if, if — er, you know, those pies you made this morning, May. CURTIS BALL. FLOWERETS See the pretty little flowerets Springing from their seed, See the dainty little dewdrops On their queer-shaped leaves. See the beautiful rainbow colors, So loving and yet so pale, Smell their rich, rich fragrance, Which floats from hill to dale. Pretty little flowerets, It ' s time you were in bed; Close your dainty little cups And bow your little heads, Shut in your glorious color Until another day, And keep your wondrous perfume From vanishing away. MAR JOR1E MITCHELL. THE BAND Our band of twenty-nine is now do:ng very creditable work. It has been all up-hill effort, as many of the boys are new to the work. We played outside the Auditorium door just before the play in the Auditorium on our Carnival Day and have been working hard toward a good pro- gram for our annual school concert. Our boys are all faithful workers and, by their untiring efforts, have worked up into a first-class band that our school may be proud of. Solo Comets — Leslie Unruh, Reginald Carnngton, Thomas Carlton. First Cornets — George Miller, Luther Ospina. Second Cornets — Arthur Sterner, Clifford Van Landregan. Third Cornets — Sinclair Dodge, Arthur Boyden. First Clarinets — Weldon Oxley, Philip Johnson, Hal Parham. Second Clarinets — Harold Watson, Francis Lobbett. Piccolos — Gordon Bell, Carol Aronovici. Trombone — George Harrell. THE BAND THE BAND— Continued First Baritones — Charles Lyser, George McGinnis. Second Baritone — George Scott. First Altos — Orville Leard, Augustine Allen. Second Alto — Ellis White. Tubas — Carroll Smith, John Sutton. Saxophone — Malcolm Berry. Snare Drum — Fred Huston. Base Drum — Robert Hamlin. SENIOR ORCHESTRA The Senior Orchestra has started out with the full enrollment of forty-seven. The members of the Senior Orchestra are: First Violins — Lois Swabel and Maybelle Olson, leaders; Pearl Winters, Mary Elizabeth MacLaughlin, LaVona Pntchard, George Negishi, Stephen Lehmer, Jane Straub, Marjorie Scrantom, John Bart- lett, Elvia Hughes and Dorothy Jurges. Second Viloins — Ernest Page, leader; Florence Welch, Fannie Garfmkel, Lucy Lathrop, Frances Fischer, George Oldenbourg, Ruth Berglund, Francis Bennallack, Velma Harner, Hubert Thorson, Robert Gorman and George Cook. Cellists — Augustine Allen, Loy Chamberlain and Howard Cole. Double Bases — Emma Louise Nash and Edith Brower. THE SENIOR ORCHESTRA SENIOR ORCHESTRA— Continued French Horn — Ellis White. Flutes — Gordon Bell, Frederick Mohler and Carol Aronovici. First Clarinets — Weldon Oxley and Hall Parham. Second Clarinets — Philip Johnson and Harold Watson. First Cornets — Leslie Unruh and Thomas Carlton. Second Cornets — Reginald Carnngton and George Miller. Melody C Saxophones — Malcolm Berry and Marion Haynes. Trombone — George Harrell. Base Drum — Robert Hamlin. Snare Drum — Fred Huston. Pianist — Betty Herbert. This orchestra played for the curtain raiser for the play given in the Auditorium during our school carnival on Friday, April 7, and has been hard at work preparing for the annual school concert. It will play for the curtain raisers and dances of the two High Ninth plays and will assist in closing exercises. The orchestra appeared on one of the evening programs for the Berkeley Fair. THE WILLARD TRIO A trio has been organized by three members of our school — Mary Elizabeth MacLaughlin, violinist; Augustine Allen, cellist, and Dons Johnson, pianist and organizer. They have practiced in their different homes without any supervision and are doing very creditable work. They played at an evening program given by Lookout Mountain Woman ' s Relief. The members of the G. A. R. were present and seemed very much pleased with the numbers given by the Willard Trio. They played at our school concert. JUNIOR ORCHESTRA The Junior Orchestra has a membership of forty and is doing ex- cellent work. They hope to piay for some chorus or assembly this term and have been preparing their share of the program for our annual concert. The members of the Junior Orchestra are: First violins — Fannie Garfinkel, leader; Frances Fischer, Caryl Cuddeback, John Bartlett, George Oldenbourg, Hubert Thorson, Lucy Lathrop, Velma Harner, Stanley Brothers and Ted Dungan. Second Violins — Florence Welch, leader; Algie Harner, Dorothy Nixon, Beryl Craig, Ford Weissel, Lottie Ditmer, Eleanor Jewett, Myrle Sleeper, Stanley Abrams and Doris Sanders. Cellists — Howard Cole and Faith Johnson. Double Base — William Craig and Donald Wilson. Flutes — Gorden Bell, Carol Aronovici and Frederick Mohler. French Horn — Orville Leard. Melo dy C Saxophone — Malcolm Berry and Marion Haynes. First Clarinets — Weldon Oxley and Hall Parham. Second Clarinets — Philip Johnson and Harold Watson. First Cornets — Thomas Carleton and Arthur Sterner. Second Cornets — Arthur Boyden and Sinclair Dodge. Base Drummer — Alton Triplett. Snare Drummer — Frank Veirs. Pianist — Dons Johnson. THE GLEE CLUB The Glee Club is hard at work preparing the vocal part of the pro- gram for our annual concert. It has fifty-five members. The parts seem well balanced. Its membership is : Sopranos — Lois Swabel, Edith Brower, Lucy Lathrop, Mary Mohler, Margaret Connolly, Mary Abbott, Thelma Mattel, Madeline Forsman, Dorothy Kinne, Dorothy Haycraft, Madeline Hoppin, Eliza- beth Biggerstaff, Frances Fischer, Frances M artel, Grace Rowe, Vir- ginia Travis, Helen Munger, Alice Lyser, Leslie Wellard, Margaret Thomas, Azalea Kierulff, Genevieve Watkms, Mane Jaymot and Adnen Jacobs. Altos — Dons Johnson, Pnscilla Gilman, Claire Murman, May- belle Olson, Thelma Pugh, Sara Haycraft, Patricia Gait, Charlotte Irwin, Marion Parsons, Lottie Ditmer, Betty Herbert, Mildred Forsman, Lucile Dougherty, Janet Gait, Muriel Heywood. Alto tenors — Davis Hatch, Hugo Correll, Arthur Harrison, Robert Kinney, Philip Bagley, Keith Abbott, Donald Hambly, Cyril Gendron, Tracy Cuttle. Bases — Eugene Kern, Stephen Lehmer, Carroll Smith, Curtis Ball, Howard Cole, William Craig, Harold Watson, Stephen Patterson. Pianist — Loyse Crisp. This Glee Club assisted at one of the evening programs for the Berkeley Fair. PIANO CLUB The Piano Club was organized with a membership of eighty-eight. The first meeting was held on February 3, 1922, at which time the fol- lowing officers were elected: Loyse Crisp President Sarah Haycraft Vice-President Raymond Smith Secretary We have had two programs this term. The first program was held on Thursday, February 23, 1922. The program consisted of: 1. Bourie — Bach Mary McCleve 2. Scherzo in Db Major — Schubert. . . .Dons Johnson 3. Falling Waters — Trucix Bernice Boelter 4. Valse in E Minor — Chopin Phebe Starr 5. Valse Poupee — Paldint ... Elizabeth Biggerstaff 6. Shepherds all and Maidens Fair . . . .Alice Cooke 7. Seranata — Moskorvski Patricia Gait 8. Passupiel — Leo Delibes Thelma Pugh The second program of the Piano Club was held on Friday, March 31, 1922. The program was a very good one and consisted of the following numbers: 1 . Voices of Spring — Sinding Helen Munger 2. The Polish Dance — Swaren a . . . .Betty Herbert 3. Murmunn Zephyrs — Jensen. . Genevieve Watkins 4. Heller Etude — Opus 45, No. 3. .Anita Jockers 5. Hearts and Flowers — Tobane .... Dorothy Smith 6. The Joy Dance Mana Zucca . . Lincoln Kauffman 7. The Melody of Love — Englemann Raymond Smith 8. The Dance of the Demon Loyse Crisp and Lucile Dougherty We all enjoy the Piano Club very much. RAYMOND SMITH, Sect. THE MUSIC ORGANIZATIONS ' CONCERT On Friday evening, May 26, the Willard Junior High School Music organizations gave a concert under the direction of Miss Etta Ellerhorst. It was an excellent climax for this term ' s work and the students were at their best. The following program was given in the presence of a large and appreciative audience : 1. a. Santa Lucia arr. by Emil Ascher b. Our Heroes March Emil Ascher Willard Band 2. Menuetto Movement from Symphony No. 94. .Haydn Louis Swabel, Maybelle Olsen, Loy Chamberlain, Gordon Bell and Dons Johnson 3. a. Fairy Tales Karl Komzak b. Prayer from A Night in Granada . . . . Kreutzer c. M arch Mihtaire Schubert Willard Junior Orchestra 4. a. Morning Ramble G. A. Veazie b. Stars of the Summer Night Willard Glee Club 5. a. Bohemian Girl Selections .. arr. by Seredy-Tocaben b. Forest Whispers F. H. Losey Willard Senior Orchestra 6. Prelude in C Sharp Minor Rachmaninoff Loyse Crisp, President of Piano Club 7. a. Overture Searchlight W.S.Ripley b. Faust March C. H. Gounod Willard Band 8. Au bord d un ruisseau (The Brook) Rene de Boisdeffre Mary Elizabeth MacLaughhn, Augustine Allen, Doris Johnson 9. a. Eagle ' s Nest Overture Emil Isenman b. Evening Star from Tannhauser . . . . R. Wagner Willard Senior Orchestra 10. a. Over the Dancing Sea J. Roeckel b. Sleep, While the Soft Evening Breezes H. R. Bishop Willard Glee Club BLOSSOM TIME IN BERKELEY BERKELEY, with its pretty hills commanding a fine view of San Francisco bay, is always beautiful, but Berkeley is still more beautiful and pleasant with the golden poppies reflecting the sunshine on the velvet green hills, with the trees taking on a mantle of pink and white blossoms, and with the gentle breezes wafting the delicate odor of daffodils and hya- cinths in at the windows which are opened to welcome the warm spring sunshine. By no means less beautiful than the city, as a whole, are the separate gardens. One day as I was walking by a high board fence, I peeked in the gate and beheld a most beautiful sight. A patch of ground about ten feet long and half as wide was a solid mass of yellow daffodils, while in back of it was a small tree with deep pink blossoms. Surely, nothing could be lovelier. One other garden that I have seen is very pretty, although it is quite simple. In the center is a large plot of grass and at the end of this, form- ing a background for the whole, a row of tall stately hollyhocks will soon appear. A little later sweet peas will bloom on one side and, as every garden should have something useful in it, a row of beans is planted on the opposite side and near to the house is a bed of mint. In the center of the grass is a tiny hedge in the shape of a circle, in the middle of which is a small tree surrounded by some strawberry plants. An apricot tree and a peach tree in full blossom, are also on the lawn. To finish the garden there are golden and crimson tulips, yellow primroses, orange marigolds and deep purple pansies, without which no garden is complete.. Do you not think that one glimpse of this garden would convince you that spring has really come? MARY WOODS BENNETT. BASEBALL The hard baseball season opened April 1 st. Although the boys had to go to Bushrod Park in Oakland for their practice three times a week, as Willard has no play ground, large numbers came and each position was fought for. The interschool series lasted three weeks, with two games against each Junior High School. Our team showed wonderful fighting spirit and gave the other schools a close run for the victory. The boys can always be proud of their good sportsmanship in face of defeat, and after all, The game ' s the thing. The line-up: Jules Agostini, catcher, (manager) ; David McVean, pitcher; Russell Wilson, 1st base; Armand Herb, 2nd base; Donald Harway, 3rd base; Ralph Pidgeon, shortstop; Albert Nelson, left field; Harold Watson, right field; Bert McCord, center field; Eugene Kern, Arthur White, Hisao, Donald Burns, substitutes. THE WILLARD P. T. A. Physical Education Week was celebrated at Willard by the Physi- cal Education Department entertaining the Willard P. T. A. The High Eight class was chosen, after weeks of competition, as the best class in Physical Education. They show remarkable skill in every athletic line, whether it is the formal gymnastic work or games. This speaks well for the success of Willard ' s next athletic season. The H-8 boys and girls have a well organized class, with a good spirit pervading throughout. In addition to the class exhibition, Mr. Hjelte and Miss Richardson spoke of the need of more playgrounds for Willard, the Summer Camp and cleanliness. VOLLEY BALL TEAM VOLLEY BALL The most interesting series of games for interclass and interschool competition were played by the volley ball teams. Ws were awarded to the teams because they won two out of the three games played. The High Nine teams represented Willard after winning the interclass cham- pionship. Their interschool games were fast and well played. The High Nine boys ' team: Alton Triplett, manager; George Howard, captain; Leslie Unruh, Carol Nevins, Elmer St. John, Duncan McDonald, Earl Donaldson, Charles Lyser, Ford Weissel, sub. ; Francis Frederick, sub. The High Nine girls ' team: Mildred Forsman, Ruth Miller, Bernice Boelter, Dorothy Kinne, Dorothy Kress, Grace Tobin (manager), Gladys Higgins, Virginia Cop- pedge ; Grace Leary and {Catherine King, substitutes. SOCCER GAMES For the first time in the history of Willard, soccer was played this year by both boys and girls. The interclass series of games proved popular and were well attended. The High 9 team of last semester won the boys ' championship. The Low Eighth girls, who are now High Eighth, won the soccer championship after many exciting and skillfully played games. Both the boys ' and girls ' teams were awarded their Numerals. The Low Eight girls were: Alice Lyser, Mane Jaymot, Lyla Kress, Mary Abbott, Lilian Bleynagle, Caryl Cuddeback, Bertha Clymer, Katherine McNeeley, Ruth Donaldson, Mildred Kelsey and Dorothy Ames. The athletic season will close with a Track Meet on the U. C. Oval, June 9th. Fifty boys and fifty girls will represent Willard and they are now practicing daily to win the championship from Burbank, Garfield and Edison. They have every reason to think they will be successful, as the University gave permission to the Willard students to use the U. C. Oval daily. SPRING ' S CHILDREN It was a balmy breezy day, In the merry month of May ; A singing brook all bubbly ran; I heard the pipes of Peter Pan. The rose was red with budding youth; The daisies laughed and spoke the truth; The birds were chirping happily Amongst the green of an apple tree. A fuzzy kitten on a leafy pillow Came face to face with a pussy-willow; They stared and stared when they saw each other ; They didn ' t know they were sister and brother. JANE BADGER. DREAMING [T WAS night. Jack was sailing on a ship in the I ndian Ocean . The crew were all red men and dressed as Indian chiefs. They were dancing around a fire in the middle of the deck. Jack was sitting on a pile of rope in a corner. The sea was boiling and swishing around the boat and blue fire seemed to dance on the white-capped waves. He was watching the sky. It seemed very near. The stars were large and brilliant and of many colors. The boat was moving very swiftly and Jack wondered whether sitting on the back of some great bird flying over the sea felt anything like this. The night grew warmer. The re was no moon in the sky. The heat and sultriness were suffocating. It seemed as though there was not a breath of air anywhere. Jack glanced at the sea, it looked so cool and deep that he won- dered what was hidden under the blue waters and he wished that he might see. Suddenly, just as he was wishing that, he felt himself lifted from the pile of ropes and thrown violently into the ocean. He felt himself falling through the water and saw many queer shapes pass him, but it was all very vague. He had been gomg very fast. But now he began to go more slowly and finally he found himself just floating and not moving up or down. Upon looking around he saw near him a cove whose roof was covered with precious stones of all kinds. The roof of the cave was very low. Jack could touch it. He tried to pick off one of the stones but just as he touched it, the bottom of the cave went right out from beneath him and — Jack opened his eyes drowsily. He lay on the floor of his bedroom. He had fallen out of bed, RUTH PERKINS. WISHING I wish I were a little bird, And could soar high above a tree, But that is really too absurd, That it may happen to me. I wish I were a nightingale, And could sing such wondrous songs; My song of joy would never fail, And loud would the echoes prolong. But what ' s the use of wishing this, When I know it can ' t come true, But be satisfied with the things I have, Which are not so very few. BARBARA VON STURMER. An Overfl owing Cup A BRAHAM LINCOLN THOMAS JEFFERSON WHITE was a little colored boy, who lived in New Orleans. He tended the horses on a great race track and his only ambition was to be a jockey. hen he wasn ' t doing this, he was tending the Wellington ' s baby. The Wellingtons also had a little girl, named Betty, and she was the object of all Jeff ' s affections. When Betty went to school, people would always look behind her if they wanted Jeff. This was the only way that Jeff could show his affection, to walk behind her, like a little dog, carrying her books. Mr. Wellington had recently bought a new race horse to put in the next month ' s races. He was looking for a good jockey to ride him but he hadn ' t been able to find one yet. It was Betty ' s birthday. Among her many presents she received a pony and cart from her father. One day, soon after, she secretly took the pony and cart out of the stable and drove down the avenue. Before this she had always had a groom with her, so she thought it was quite an adventure. Pretty soon she found that she couldn ' t control the pony and that he was going awfully fast. Jeff had just obtained a watermelon, not quite honestly, and was peacefully sitting on a fence, eating it. Just as he had taken the third luscious bite, Betty and her pony and cart whizzed past him. Betty cried out, sobbingly, Jeff! Jeff! Help me! For once watermelon claimed second place, as Jeff took to his heels after Betty and her fly ng pony. As he neared her he called out, Hold tight! I ' ll be there in a minute. An hour later we find Jeff in the Wellington ' s dining room, eating a great big juicy watermelon. He had saved Betty ' s life, so Mr. W elhng- ton had told him that he could be his jockey. Just as he thought his cup of joy was already overflow ng, Betty came and bestowed a kiss on his shiny black countenance. ALICE COOKE. TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW Whv do we always put everything off When we know there is ne ' er a to-morrow? Why is it we can ' t do our daily tasks And not other time must we borrow? Today is the time, Never to-morrow, For you know not what it may bring — Maybe sorrow ! Oft have I heard both the old and the young Say, Oh, that can be left ' till to-morrow ; But every to-morrow turns into to-day, So never put off ' till to-morrow. AFTON FINN. A Story Told by the Whittier Fireside IT WAS a dark and dreary day. My brother and I were left home alone, while the rest of the family went to visit the nearest town. It was very lonesome, for we were not often left by ourselves. Indians, had lately been the word in many phrases and stories, and I feared them, now that we were alone. This was very foolish, since the Indians had been very friendly to the white men for several years. But my brother had told me story after story of terr.ble adventures, that filled me with terror and made me fear the Indians as I had never before. Near the end of the day brother remembered that he was to return a book to the neighbors. I begged him to stay home with me, for his stories could not be forgotten. We argued and argued, but mother had told him to be sure to return it, as books were very valuable then. This settled it. He started off, leaving me with terror in my heart and the knowledge of the on-coming darkness that would come before his return. It seemed that hours had passed. Every minute grew longer to me. I sat by the window and watched through the darkness for brother ' s re- turn. At last I saw a dark figure come over the hill. It looked and walked like brother, but with a cry of horror, I saw above his head the unmistakable lines of a single feather. The next two minutes were blotted out from my consciousness, but I was soon crouching in a corner, for our cabin has no hiding places. Then, when an awful yell rent the air, I hid my head in my big apron. Several minutes had ticked slowly by, and nothing happened — no sounds except the thumping of my heart. I never wished for my brother so much in all my life before. As I uncovered my head the door swung open. I gave a little terrified cry, but to my disgust and immense relief, my brother entered, with a feather tied to his head. DOROTHY DERLETH. A METAL HUMAN JOHN TANT was Engineer No. 76 of the Central Pennsylvania Railroad. He was proud of his old brazen monster for he had worked on it for many years. It was his only companion besides the fireman. Tant was getting on in flying years and when the company changed hands, he was laid off on account of h is old age. Wait, he muttered, I ' ll show these fellows some day. The new general manager ' s son was to begin from the ground up in the engineering businss. He was Engineer No. 76, John Tant ' s successor. One day the president of the railroad was on the train in a special car. John Tant was in the regular day coach, riding back to his old farm he left for the train business. A forest fire had started along the winding railroad and was threaten- ing many bridges which spanned the tumbling brooks and moving torrents. As the train rolled on, the heat became so intense that when they were in the midst of the blazing glory it was almost unbearable and the coaches were beginning to smoke. Suddenly the train stopped — the new engineer had lost his nerve at the vital moment. The president issued a volunteer call for anyone who could pull a throttle. Good Lord, he cried, someone must take the tram through. There are women and children abroad. John Tant answered the call and went to the engine cab to work side by side with his old partner, the old brazen monster. As the train thundered across the last dangerous bridge and the heat dispersed, the train pulled up and Tant crawled from the cab, a scorched and red- faced man. When the president of the road gripped his hand he did not say much but that grip expressed more than words could his appreciation of that desperate drive through fire. Today John Tant is Engineer No. 76 of the Central Pennsylvania Railroad. HUGO CORRELL. i SPRING VISIONS It is on mornings like these that I would love to wake and find myself once more in my little cot under the great pines in the Sierra Nevada mountains, watching and listening to the grey squirrels, as they chatter noisily to one another in the nearby oaks. After an early five o ' clock breakfast, we start from camp along a narrow mountain ridge. Three miles below we can hear the roaring of the American river, as it rushes on its way. The canyon, as we walk along, is filled with a most delightful scent of wild azalea, which is wafted to us by the breeze. We soon reach a small cross road which has running along the side of it a small stream which comes from an iron spring. We follow this road and, as we come around a sharp curve, two deer spring to their heels and are away before we have time to clearly see them. Our journey still continues, and we soon reach a small bridge with a swift stream running under it. It is a small tributary of the river. Crossing the bridge, we follow the river until we pass an old ruined cabin, which formerly belonged to an old miner. Going on a little further, we come to a deep pool, so deep that it is an emerald green. We spend the day there and go swimming. As it grows later in the evening we start home. The trip is wonder- ful. The moon is rising slowly over the hills, and as we plod along home- ward, the evening breeze refreshes us. Onward we go, around hill and over ridge, until we reach the top, where we stop and rest. We watch the moon rise slowly; the owls begin to hoot their melancholy hoot, and the little creatures leave their hiding places and start out on their nightly hunts. Here I will leave you, for you have the whole picture before you. In the gorge below, the river is rushing and gushing on. The tired hikers are resting on the top of the hill — the moon rising through the trees. The only sound that breaks the silence is the roar of the river and the breeze, which stirs the trees above. It is in such a place that one loves to sit and dream. SARAH PEASE. The Thirteenth Hour EAGLETON was a small farming town in California near the border of Nevada. The population consisted chiefly of cowboys and ranchers. The town contained one store, one hotel, two saloons and one theatre. The chief character of the town was Tom Tanner. Old Tom, as he was commonly called, was a bachelor, about s.xty years old. He was an uneducated but well-.nformed pioneer, who, by industry and economy, had accumulated large land holdings well stocked with cattle, horses, sheep, and hogs. He hired on his ranch two regular helpers, Colorado Bill and Texas Joe, and occasionally two or three transients whose services were needed at special times, such as haymg, sheep shearing and round-ups. At the time this story opens, the transient helpers were two college graduates, Algernon Van Landingham and Percival Seaborn. These two boys were very conceited and were called Ladies. Suddenly Tom Tanner became ill and was taken to the hotel to be cared for. In spite of the constant attention of Eagleton ' s best doctor, Tom passed on. It was the custom of the time for two men to sit up with the dead. Texas Joe and Colorado Bill planned that they would sit up until one o ' clock if Percival and Algernon would sit up the rest of the night. According to agreement, Joe and Bill commenced the night watch. Ain ' t it too bad? Good old Tom! said Texas Joe softly. Don ' t you remember how he saved all those cattle from starvation? You know that hard cold winter we had two years ago? Good old Tom, may heaven be his reward. Sure, replied Texas Joe, who could forget? And the time the people were dying on account of having no food. How he gave them what he had. Ain ' t it awful how our ' Ladies ' have slandered poor Tom after what he has done for us? Let ' s give them a good scare, so that they will remember us and our joint. Colorado Bill removed his sombrero and ran his fingers through his long black hair. You ' re right, he reflected. We ought to lain those sissies to respect good citizens like Tom. Tell you what we ' ll do, said Joe, leaning forward where he could get a good look at Tom ' s countenance. Tom always enjoyed a good joke. I wouldn ' t be surprised if he was laughing now. They drew then- chairs close together and in a short time had elaborated their plans for scaring the newcomers, and instilling into their minds a lasting remembrance of Eagleton. Then they settled back in their places. Texas Joe just stepped out to have a drink, explained Colorado Bill to Percival ' s inquiry as to why he was alone. I never saw such a thirsty soul, commented Colorado Bill, as he rose and motioned the newcomers to seats. Funny I didn ' t see him in the saloon, said Percival. Oh, he ' s there all right, assured Colorado Bill. You boys just make yourselves at home. Ain ' t nothin ' to do but sit and think. Might smoke a little if you like. This ain ' t a meetin ' house. They lit their cigarettes and Colorado Bill left. Percival and Algernon were alone. This is going to be unlucky for us — thirteenth hour, thirteenth day and in 1913, moaned Algernon. Nonsense, returned Percival, the old cattle thief won ' t pick up any calves this year, said Algernon, shaking his fist at the corpse. But if he should he won ' t have any trouble heatmg up his branding irons now. These old land grabbers like Tom will have plenty of fires for branding purposes, said Percival, looking at the motionless form under the sheet. This talk about old Tom ' s generosity is all nonsense. If he fed those cattle it was because he could steal more calves, said Algernon. Nobody could acquire all this vast property honestly, scorned Percival. The way we have had to work since we have been here! Look at my hands ! All blistered ! And look at your hands, in the same cond tion! Hell is none too good for him, exclaimed Algernon. I ' ll bet his face is all twisted up with the pains he ' s suffering now. You just lift up that sheet. But he didn ' t have time to take off the cover, for scarcely had Algernon spoken when up rose the supposed dead man, the sheet still covering his face. Down the stairs they ran, followed in hot pursuit by the white image. Up the street they ran, by the graveyard, yelling frantically Ghosts! Past the graveyard, by the theatre, and into the saloon ran the two men still thinking that the ghost was following them. In a breath- less manner they told their experience. I ' ll bet there isn ' t a word of truth in it, scorned the bartender. I ' ve lived here forty years and I ain ' t never seen a ghost yet. Guess you boys had too much ' Red Eye ' ; always stick to good old whiskey — no ghost in it. But the men, still breathless and excited, declared repeatedly that old Tom had risen from his death bed and chased them through the streets. There ' s a way of proving it. Let ' s all go back to the hotel and if old Tom is there you boys will have to treat the house. If old Tom ' s body ain ' t there I ' ll take back all I ever said about ghosts. By this time there were ten or twelve men in the saloon. Much interested, they all hurried back to the hotel and climbed the bare stairs where Tom was laid out. The candle still flickered in the corner and the figure still lay on the bed, covered with the sheet. Quietly the bartender pulled back the covering. There lay old Tom, his face still serene and placid, just as he had looked when life had departed. No one spoke and the sheet was pulled up again. But back in the saloon that night things were not so quiet. Percival and Algernon, still protesting they had seen a ghost, were compelled to treat the noisy crowd several times. Seated in one corner was Texas Joe, who apparently was very much amused but took no interest in the proceedings. MARY LYNIP. YOUTHFUL DAYS Little boy with laugh so gay, How do you while the time away? I run and sing and play I ' m king; A king out on a holiday. Little girl with eyes of grey, How do you pass the time away? I skip and dance as Queen of France ; Or maybe I ' m Puck, elf, or fay. Children whistle, jump and play, For merry heart goes a long way. Then they ' re ready, with nerves steady To take their part in life ' s hard fray. MORVYTH MC QUEEN WILLIAMS. Winkleman ' s First Cyclone JAMES and Lenore Lea lived in Winkleman, a small mining town in Arizona. James Lea worked during the day and Lenore was left alone with the children. They had four chilrren. The oldest was Elizabeth, aged s.x, Jack was five, Jewel was two years younger than Jack, and Sylvia, the baby, was just one year old. One day in August James went to work as usual and as Lenore went about her housework she began to notice the intense heat. In the afternoon the heat became almost unbearable. Not a breath of air was stirring. About five o ' clock she began her preparations for supper. The kitchen, which served as a dining room as well, was almost like an oven, Lenore thought. When James came to supper she complained of the heat and said that such great heat was unnatural. He told her not to worry about it, adding, as he glanced at the sky, I guess the heat won ' t last much longer. I see some clouds in the sky. We will have a storm before long. Little did he dream how true his words would prove to be. A person more familiar with the weather conditions of that country could have told him that a cyclone was coming. Just as James, Lenore and the children were sitting down to the table for their supper the wind began to blow. The clouds had covered the sky and the ram began to fall. James ran to close the windows. The children began to cry and Lenore tried to comfort them. The rain beat upon the roof so hard that they had to shout to make themselves heard. The wind increased in violence, the house rocked from side to side, and the boards creaked. Suddenly, the frightened inmates of the little house heard a crash as the wind tore the roof from the house. The rain beat in upon them and Lenore tried to protect the children by dragging the mattress from one of the beds to the floor and covered them with it. The wind was still rocking the house and suddenly the floor began to tilt. The table, with the forgotten supper upon it, began to slide along the uneven floor. The legs of the stove, whose chimney had fallen down, gave way and the whole thing came crashing down. The house tipped more and more and finally turned upside down. The furniture was blown in all directions. The doors were blown down and James was caught under one of them. Lenore, with Sylvia, Eliza- bet and Jewel, groped about in the darkness until she came upon the mattress that she had dragged from the bed to cover the chldren with. The wind had blown it upon a pile of rocks that was near the house. Lenore caught a piece of oilcloth that was being carried by the wind, and succeeded in covering herself and the children with it. Jack was nowhere to be found and Lenore was unable to hunt for him because of the darkness and rain. Alter what seemed to Lenore many hours, but which was in reality only one or two, the rain stopped and in about half an hour the wind subsided. The clouds disp2rsed and the stars appeared. As soon as possible after the storm a rescuing party appeared. After a little search they found James pinned under the door. Jack had been blown down the hill but, strange to say, he was not hurt. The whole family were taken to an adobe house, where they were given hot food and dry clothing. It was found out afterward that the roof of the house had been blown down into the business section of the town, while wash tubs were found across a creek that was some distance from the house. ALETHIA LINDSEY. SPRING TIME The Springtime is filled with a happy throng, Filled with joy and the b rd ' s sweet song, Flowers that nod in the bright sun light. Birds that make their northern flight. Now Winter ' s iron chain is broken, And Summer sends out her happy token. Jack Frost has left us forever so long; The whole wide world bursts into laughter and song. The streams that were held by Winter ' s firm rules, Dance over rocks and form into pools. We welcome Miss Springtime with a host of cheer; All Nature helps crown her the Queen of the Year. GENEVIEVE LELEAN. THE FAIRIES Have you ever been in the woods at night, And seen the fames dance? The b g round moon shines out so clear, A,nd the elfin brownies prance. It ' s barrels of fun to watch the dears ; They are so light and airy, And a wee bright star smiles from above, On each and every fairy. But alas and alack ! if you show yourself, And you, the fairies see, They ' ll ride away on butterflies, And hide beneath a tree. KATHERINE ROCHESTER. WHEN SPRING CAME THE sun arose, clothed in all his glory, while the birds chattered happily of the coming of Spring. A tiny flower now and then peeped out from its wmter bed to nod its welcome to the Spring, who, as she tripped lightly over the soft green carpet, greeting them with her merry song, seemed to leave behind her a fairyland of joy and beauty. The trees seemed suddenly to awaken, and send forth their dainty blossoms which lent sweet perfume to the air. The sun, attired in garments ot gold, sent forth his long golden rays, which were reflected in the rippling waters of the lake. The bees hummed busily as the fragrance of Spring again greeted them. Butterflies flitted to and fro alighting, only to dart away, flashing their colors in the sunlight. The breezes played among the grasses, wafting anon a tiny message of love to the Spring, who left behind wher ' er she went, gladness and beauty. ELIZABETH HERRIOTT. DITORIAU O THE TARGET STAFF Margaret Phillips , Editor Jane Younger Associate Editor Ramona Laddish Manager ASSISTANTS Warren Barton, Susan Benteen, Malcolm Berry, Bernice Boelter, Edith Brower, Eleanor Burgess, Edith Christie, Helen Coxhead, Miriam Craig, Jean Crew, Elaine Douglas, Amalia Dnpont, Janet Gait, Aline Gosling, Mary Grinnell, Sara Haycraft, Janet Heitman, Betty Herbert, Muriel Heywood, Ada Belle Hitch, Anita Jockers, Katherine King, Robert Kinney, Carol Kramer, Lucy Lathrop, Alethia Lindsay, Mary Lynip, Charles Lyser, Marjorie Meyers, Elizabeth Mote, Helen Munger, Emma Louise Nash, Virginia Nichols, Doris Petty, LaVona Pritchard, Ruby Rosenquist, Mildred Schieck, Marjorie Scrantom, Minnie Soo-Hoo, Gertrude Spotswood, Phebe Starr, Chesterlyn Thomas, Vir ginia Travis, Stanley Ulnch, Leslie Wellard, Arthur White, Barbara Young. ADVISORY BOARD Mr. Clark Principal Miss Christy Teacher Rooms 1 , 2, 3, 4, 12 and 24 are on the honor roll because they have a 1 00 per cent, subscription list. The Target Staff thanks them for their excellent support and cooperation. Honors have been gained by many members of the staff. For every ten subscriptions received one honor is placed after a members name. The results are: Margaret Phillips (4), Ramona Laddish (3), Jane Younger (3), LaVona Pritchard (2), Elaine Douglas (2), Jean Crew (2), Lucy Lathrop (2), Susan Benteen (2), Virginia Nichols (2), Phebe Starr (1), Charles Lyser (1), Helen Munger (1), Sara Haycraft (1), Arthur White ( 1 ) , Edith Christie ( 1 ) , Helen Coxhead ( 1 ) , Janet Heitman ( 1 ) , Betty Herbert ( 1 ) , Robert Kinney ( 1 ) , Chestrlyn Thomas ( 1 ) , Stanley Ulrich ( 1 ) , Leslie Wellard ( 1 ) , Aline Gosling ( 1 ) . BOOKS AND THEIR USE OERHAPS at this time, you are using a torn, mutiliated book, which ■ appears to have been a method of attack and defense, or has been accidentally left out over night in the rain. This is not pleasing to you or any one who has the book after you. Probably the boy or girl who has partially destroyed it did not realize that he or she was using a book borrowed from the school and that the mutilating of it was the same as borrowing an Eversharp from your neighbor, and breaking it. One of the most offensive things which are done is the interhneating in language books. Remember that these translations are benefitting no one ; not even yourself. When you have finished the course you will not remember the vocabulary for you will not always have an interlineated copy at hand. If you conserve the school books you will indirectly profit, for then the board of education can use the school taxes, not for new books, but for traveling bars, rings and other apparatus for the gym. Make your motto : Return borrowed books in good condition. ANITA JOCKERS. BORROWING FROM time to time gymnasium suits and other equipment have been lost in the gymnasium. Persons borrow these articles intending to re- turn them but they forget and the owner is left without his or her gym- nasium equipment. Sometimes these things are returned slightly worse for the borrowing and often they are borrowed permanently. These un- fortunate happenings are frequently due to the carelessness of the pupils who leave their lockers open. Persons who take these thing, intending to return them and who neglect to do so, are beginning the larger offense of stealing. Those guilty of such a transgression are forming a habit which will not be an asset to their character in later life. Not only do they win a bad reputation for themselves but the fair name of then- school may become tarnished by such unscrupulous thoughtlessness. ADABELLE HITCH. R ELIMINATE THE REDS ED on a report card as everyone knows is very depressing. It makes some people ' s hearts quake and their knees shake when they see that most despised color in their marks. Red is a danger signal and on report cards it is no exception to the rule. When there is such a mark on a card it means that there is something very wrong somewhere, usually with the pupil, and it is a warning that must be observed if the pupil wanis to get a recommendation. There are few people who have not had that uncomfortable feei ng that comes with red marks. I ' ve had it. Maybe you have had it. One usually does not want to show one ' s card when there is such a thing on it. Some people weep copiously when they see it, some people flash it around as if they were proud of it, when they really are not, but others determine to get to the root of the trouble and make it all right. We want to be the latter. There is no use whatever in crying over a thing that is already done and can ' t be remedied. There is no use in pretending that you don ' t care, when you do. Get busy! See what is the matter! But don t step at that: come to school every day and do your work. Most probably your marks will be better then. This is a country where everyone gets a fair chance if he will take it. Let ' s make it our slogan to Eliminate the Reds on our cards. MINNIE SOO-HOO. CHRONIC TARDINESS AND ABSENCE. ONE day as I sat in the classroom in the middle of the recitation a boy came in to have his tardly slip signed. The teacher had to go to the desk, sign the excuse, and then resume her former thread of conversation. Again I will cite and instance. A girl had been absent time after time for no apparent reason whatever. When she came back to school for any length of time, the teacher had to coach her and aid her to make up the work. Meanwhile the regular and daily assignments were piling up. The tardiness situation in Willard is getting really serious and some- thing should be done to stop it. In the first place, the classroom is greatly disturbed when a tardy person comes into the room, and the teacher is annoyed thereby. The thought is missed by the class, of whatever the teacher was talking about before. When a pupil begins to be absent for almost no reason, that person is coasting down grade, and the marks on his or her card will tell the tale. When that student is at school he or she is completely taken up in making up all the lost work, and so the assignments accumulate hopelessly. Be at school more and on time and make Frances Willard a better institution of learning. WARREN BARTON. ON Ole Close Day the Latin department presented the following program: A little playlet called a A Roman Tragedy was enacted by the High Tenth Latin pupils from Room Three. The main characters were: Corona, the wife, Susan Benteen; Porus, the husband, John Bartiett; Amatus, the lover, Warren Barton; the two slaves, Null and Void, Margaret Phillips and Richard Daly; the Three Fates, Deris Petty, Hazel Burkey and Helen Blasdaie. Other mem- bers of the class took part m the chorus, while Elizabeth Green read the introduction explaining the plot. The conversation consisted of well known Latin maxims humorously applied to a ridiculous situation. The Complaint of the Little Hares was chanted by Fred Kauf- man, Arthur Wing and Davis Minor, the introduction being read by Gladys Young. Latin pupils from Room Six appeared in the following numbers, which were announced by Martha Downing: The Dude, George Howard; The Possum, William Harnett; The Wise Men in a Boat, Stanley Abrams, Andrew Anderson, Phillip Crocker, George McGinnis; Little Jack Horner, Ernest Page; Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Mo, Mary Lymp; Jack and Jill, William King and Kemble Mills; Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Emma Stewart; Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, Frances Wepfer, Dorothy Taylor, Virg : nia Wellendorf, Mary Robin Steiner, Florence Welch; Tom, Tom, the Piper ' s Son, Murray Gelber, Burlington Carlyle, Helen Frederickson, Ellen Wood, David Cameron, Margaret Brock, Adele Monges, Satoru Harano. The proceeds, amounting to twenty-one dollars, will be used for the purchase of slides pertaining to Reman history, life and customs. High Nine Dramatics ' THE High Nine English divisions, under Mrs. Hall, presented on A June 10, A Mid summer Night s Dream, which was our last study in literature this year. We received assistance from Miss Gibbs of the drawing depart- ment in designing the costumes, which were executed by the domestic science department. Mrs. Carol Aronovici Sr. assisted in coaching the play. The lighting was managed by Carol Aronovici Jr., assisted by Crawford Christie and Armand Herb. Our classes felt greatly the lack of dramatic training during the year. It is hoped that another year more atttention can be given to dra- matics. The benefit to be obtained from this work may thus affect more students, and the performance at the end of the year be both better and more easily prepared. But in spite of lack of experience, the classes enjoyed putting on their presentation of this beautiful and amusing comedy. The cast was as follows: Theseus Russell Wilson Egeus Duncan McDonnell Lysander .William Craig Demetrius Carol Aronovici Philostrate Sarah Pease Hippolyta Ruth Miller Hel ena Jane Straub Hermia Elizabeth Biggerstaff Oberon Eloise Colton Titania Esther Stoddard Puck Edith Christie r airies — Madel ine Forsman, Sadie Baxter, Alethia Lindsay, Bernice Hinshaw, Isabelle Dodge Elva Robinson, Bernice Jacobs, Juanita Holmes, Phyllis Jacobs. Quince Ridgway Brothers Bottom Richard Newmeyer Flute George Howard Snout Lemuel Smith Snug Ford Weissel Starveling Carrol Nevin Attendants — Marjorie Mitchell, Elmer St. John, Ray Pratt, Robert Gorman, Kenneth Sanders, George Miller, Earl Hopgood, Katharine Polentz. The Tempest and Cupid and Psyche The High 9th English classes under the supervision of Miss Christy are preparaing a program of scenes from Shakespeare ' s Tempest and Cupid and Psyche, dramatized by Aline Gosling, a member of the class, to be given June 1 3th, at 8 o ' clock, in the school auditorium. Each scene has been staged and directed by a student. All the costumes have been des gned and made by 9th year classes of the Domestic Arts Department of the school, under the direction of Miss Carpenter. The lighting has been planned by Tom Moore, Francis Cross, Kenneth Hupp and Howard Landon. The dances have been arranged by the pupils, under the direction of Miss Richardson, supervisor of Physical Education, and Thelma Pugh and Mildred Schieck of the High 9th class. The High 9th students are giving this program, a climax of their semester ' s work, in a spirit of service for their school and all of the money realized will be used for the Target fund and the school treasury. The foil owing students are taking a part in the program: Ruther- ford Clark, Margaret Phillips, Lucile Dougherty, Burgess Dempster, Leslie Unruh, Robert Bruce, Stanley Brothers, Malcolm Berry, Phebe Starr, Charles Lyser, Alton Tr plett, Edward Neighbor, Luther Ospina, Bernice Boelter, Warren Barton, Stanley Ulnch, Alfred Aitken, Kenneth Hupp, Keith Johnson, Arthur White, Doris Petty, Doris Johnson, Earl Donaldson, John Bartlett, Mildred Schieck, Elaine Douglas, Mildred Forsman, LaVona Pritchard, George Cook, Philip Johnson, Franklin Martin, Dons Hatch, Elinor Oliver, Francis Cross, Nazareth Mardviosian, Harold Davidson, Iwao Kawakami, Hugo Correll, Loyse Crisp, Howard Landon, John Heavy, Evelyn Bade, Thelma Lewis, Marjorie Scrantom, Dorothy K nne, Ramona Laddish, Patricia Gait, Adabelle Hitch, Elizabeth Green, Marjorie Meyer, Frances Hanley, Jane Younger, Mildred Luther, Aline Gosling, Katherme King, Grace Tobin, Helen Blasdale, Susan Benteen, Janet Heitman, Gertrude Spots- wood, Elizabeth Fraser, Virginia Vernier, Loraine Sommerlad, Myrtle Sleeper, Eleanor Dickinson, Hazel Burkey, Florence Croco, Gladys Higgins, Anna Lindale, Velma Harner, Margaret Guild, Grace Leary, Frank Veirs, John Klaus, William Klaus, Joseph McAuliffe, Pendle- ton Noyes, Carol Kramer, Audrey Matteson, Alice Cook, Marjorie Keyser, Margaret Sterrett, Norma Lindsay, Thelma Pugh, Harrison Martin, Harold Jones. OLD CLOTHES DAY I. We came to school in our rags and tags, That glorious Old Clothes Day, And we bought and we ate, And we ate and we bought, Till we had no mere money to pay. II. There were hot-dogs and ice-cream, And m 11-ons of cakes; Homemade candy that was divine, And a Latin play, in the midst of our day That everyone thought was just fine. III. The Sheik and his Wives were too wondrous for wo Mr. Cramer won laurels forever. We went from the play to a dance in the gym, And the music was certainly clever. IV. We could dance pretty well, so onlookers tell, In spite of the ice cream and candy; And money was earned, The next school week we learned, That will, no doubt, come in very handy. EDITH CHRISTIE. Mr. Beardsley (in H 9 History) — What was the new type of leader in Roman affairs? Dorothy Kress — Millinery leaders. Miss Chr:sty (deciding on the prize for the tin-foil contest) — 1 think it would be better for the girls to make the candy instead of buying it. Tom Moore — What about the hospital bill? Myrle Sleeper — Ramona, have you seen Dorothy? Romana Laddish — Yes, she just passed out. Lemuel Smith (in H-9 History) — They sent the invisible Ar- mada. Teacher — Can any one tell me what steam is? Reginald Carnngton — Water crazy with the heat. Mr. Beardsley (speaking of professional training) — If a boy expects to be a dentist he knows he ' s going to have a long, hard pull. Robert Wilson — What I know they put in books. Francis Cross — Yes, and what you don ' t know, they put in volumes. Teacher — Who was Joan of Arc? Sarah Pease — Noah ' s wife. Elizabeth Green — Who is playing at the next children ' s concert? Margaret Phillips — I think it ' s the San Francisco Chamber of ommerce. Ray Engle — What ' s a vocabulary? Ray Pratt— Why? Ray Engle — Miss Christy said that John Heavy had a large vocabulary for his age. Malcolm Berry (rehearsing for H-9 play) — Robert always grabs my foot and I ' m supposed to hand it to him. Evelyn Bade — Do you play on the piano? Augustine Allen — No, my mother ' s afraid I ' ll fall off. Teacher (on sending Alice Kingsley to the store) — Alice, can you remember what you are going for? Alice — Yes, teacher, by that song we sing at Sunday school. Teacher — What song? Alice — Bringing in the cheese. Teacher (in English) — Now, class, we will have a spelling- match. Stephen Lehmer — How many guesses do we have? Yes, said the store-keeper, I want a good, bright boy to be partly indoors and partly outdoors. That ' s all right, sa:d Howard Landon, who had been applying for the position, but what becomes of me when the door slams shut? Teacher (to Frank Burger — Name a collective noun. Frank (after deep thought) — The garbage can. Teacher — What is the use of the sun? Virginia Hart — To dry clothes. Mildred Schieck — When did the Revival of Learning begin? Pat Gait — The night before the exams. Teacher — What did the Romans leave behind that we hear so much about. Leslie Wellard — Ruins. Little Ray Engle rises slow And usually answers, I don ' t know. George Howard — I ' ve got something in this package for the one I love best. Jane Straub — You ' re always buying something for yourself. Mother — Leslie, who did you have in the car last night? Les— No one but George Harrell. Mother — Well, tell him he dropped his vanity case in the car. Alfred Aitken — Malcolm, have you ever seen the Catskill moun- tains? Malcolm Berry — No, but I have seen them kill mice. Teacher (to Frances Cross) — What is the difference between electricity and lightning? Francis — You don ' t have to pay for lightning. THE WHY AND CAUSE Why is Loyse like a waffle? Because she ' s Crisp. Why is Donald like red pepper? Because he Burns. Why does Jean feel big? Because she ' s the whole Crew. Why does Phebe shine? Because she ' s a Star. Why does Grace succeed in school? Because she knows Howe. Why has Ralph wings? Because he ' s a Pidgeon. Why is Madaline on the go? She ' s Hoppin. Why is Francis saintly? He ' s a Cross. Why does {Catherine rule? She ' s a King. Why has Charlotte such a long neck. She ' s a Swan. SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR ALLUSION BOOKS Bellerophon and Pegasus — Harry King and his fliver. Narcissus — Edward Neighbor. Terpsichore — Mildred Schieck. Endymion — Harrison Martin. Teacher (in L-9 History) — In Egypt when the men of the house had company the women had to leave the room. George Harrall — Well, teacher, it must have been well, wasn ' t it awfull stale without the girls around? CATCH THIS ON YOUR RADIO Have you heard Stephen Lehmer ' s operatic trills that thrill? Adnary Sengler is now on the Palm Olive Advertising staff and his motto is, Keep that schoolgirl complexion. George Harrell is trying to conceal his ruddy hues by means of Djer-Kiss, concealed in the latest fad of powder compacts. Have you noticed how Donald Harway is thriving on his Mellin ' s Food diet? Kather ne King is getting sentimental; Home-Run Kisses are her latest fad. S. O. S. for stilts for Bobby Adams, to use behind M;ss Kelly ' s new counter. Stanley Brothers is now using O-Cedar Oil on his hair to keep it glossy. If no one else appreciates my talent, said youthful Augustine Allen, I certainly do. I always applaud myself. Teacher (to Armand Herb) — A rmand, will you please get out where I can see you? Don ' t hide behind Cyrils ' ears. Clerk (to Dixie Seaton, who had just asked for some face powde ) — Do you want it scented or unscented? Dixie — No, I ' ll take it with me. Sutton Myers (after hesitating for a moment in L-9 dramatics) — I could remember my part, if I could look at the book for a few minutes. Stanley Brothers (in H-9 English) — One of the dead men got up, and spoke. Minn:e Soo-hoo (in H-10 French) — I am glad that you have come. Teacher — Why did you make it feminine? Minnie — I wouldn ' t say that to a boy. Mrs. Johnson (during posture tests) — Hold your head up, shoul- ders back, and abdomen in, if you want a fine carriage. Stanley Brothers was visiting his aunt one day and found the family cat dozing comfortably and purring steadily. He cried excitedly : Aunte. come quick! This cat has gone to sleep and left his engine running. Thelma Martel (translating Latin) — He sent the letters written m grease. Frank Muncy (to Richard Bradshaw) — I can tell you how much water goes over Niagara Falls to a quart. R: chard — How much? Frank — Exactly two pints. Teacher (to Donald Harway) — I am tempted to report you to your father. Donald — Yield not to temptation. Teacher — What are the two kinds of clergy? Albert Nelson — Regular and circular. Mr. Beardsley — What does ' E Plunbus Unum ' mean? Donald Burns — In God we trust. Teacher (in H-9 History) — What was developing in Switzerland at the time of the Reformation? Margaret Phillips — Cheese. Teacher — If you had a powerful miscroscope you could see a mosquito weep. Tom Moore — That ' s nothing; I ' ve seen a moth ball. Teacher — What shall we sing? Roger Atkinson (absent-mindedly) — Dixie. Mr. Beardsley (in H-9 History) — What was the purpose of the craft guilds? Iwao — To protect a man when he made a dress for another man. Miss Carpenter (in speaking of dyeing costumes) — Girls, I will tell you a day ahead at what time you are to come and dye. Teacher (in H-9 Spanish, to Harrison Martin) — Harrison, why are you behind in your Spanish? Harrison — So I can pursue it. Teacher (to Donald Hambly) — What is the next word? What comes after cheese? Donald — Mouse. Ridgeway Brothers (to Crawford Christie) — What did you make the fifty-yard dash in? Crawford — In my gym suit, of course. George Harrell (in L-9 History) — It would have been a terrible defeat for Hannibal, but he saved the day by using his head. Teacher (to Carl Barnes) — Carl, why are you so late? Carl — I started late. Teacher — Why didn ' t you start early? Carl — It was too late to start early. Stanley Ulrich (describing a stag) — He grew to be a fine specimen of manhood. ILL 3? JSm m - 30 y OIL 7) -y fy i 1 f 42 MnHMMMMMMNM