Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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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.

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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

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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