Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Page 21 text:

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.

Page 20 text:

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?

Page 22 text:

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