Astoria High School - Zephyrus Yearbook (Astoria, OR)

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at the corner of the house, Josephine Jean, Mary Elizabeth and others were grouped about a big box on which they had Mandy Jane stretched at full length. “You see,” explained Mary Elizabeth, “we all breve deep free times, an’ then lif’ Mandy Jane wiv our little fingers, and we can lif’ her right of’n the box. We’re tryin’ it on her ’cause shes’ so fat, an’ if we’d happen to let her drop, ’twouldn’t hurt her. She couldn’t breve deep like us, nohow, ’cause she’d bust all the buttons ofT’n her dress.” Then Cora, thinking of the apple sauce not yet delivered, hastened onto Mrs. Brown. She found her seated in a plain, bare but neat room, at work on a big pile of mending. She looked ill and tired, but was very cheerful and appreciated Cora’s kindness. After a few minutes’ chat she departed. When she got outside she found Mandy Jane mournfully hunting in the grass for something. To Cora’s question she replied: “The kids lemme fall, an’ I fell so hard it bust all the buttons offn my dress, an’ I’m lookin’ for ’em now.” As Cora turned the corner she heard Samuel Clemens yell: “Bet I can back you fellers out a climbin’ on top the barn.” Turning, she saw the whole bunch go helter-skelter to accept and decide the wager. “Well,” Cora thought, “when those people can be so happy and cheerful with so much poverty and care, I’m ashamed of myself for being so ungrate¬ ful and discontented. I’ll have to hurry home now or I won’t have time to finish that mending before dinner.” How beautiful everything seemed, so beautiful in the sunshine new, and the great joy of springtime entered her heart and filled her soul with peace. R. L. B„ ’ll. A MODERN HERCULES. Our young hero was reared among the hills without companions except those of his reading. He is particularly fond of the Grecian myths. Hercules is his ideal. Often does he read the story of the twelve labors, and just as often is his imagination inflamed to the hour of activity. In this condition one evening about dusk our hero starts out with a club on his shoulder. After a prolonged search over the hills for some beast upon which to perform his labor, he reaches a road, he hears a noise, a noise not unaccustomed to the ears of the city lad—a chug, chug, chug. He crouches low at the side of the road, and as the object rounds a curve, he

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sehen wie es da steht ohne Kopf und die Hande gen Himmel gestreckt. Alles dieses war sehr interessant aber nicht heiter und wir Kehrten es gern den Rucken und freute.n uns sehr in den hellen Strassen zu finden und G. E. B. R. gluckliche Seute zu sehen. THE SPRING OF YESTERDAY. It was spring—fresh, beautiful spring. The birds in the trees proclaimed it; the dandelions smiled it; all the fowls in the old farm yard nodded ap¬ proval on viewing the new gowns of their companions. But there was one into whose heart spring had not entered—this was Cora, very much out of sorts with herself and the world in general. “Well, I might as well get those dishes done right away,” she said to herself. “And there are those horrid stockings to mend, too. Oh, dear! I don’t see how small boys can wear out stockings so fast.” She heaved a deep sigh as she went inside and fell to work. But in a few minutes she remembered the apple sauce to be taken to poor Mrs. Brown, who was very frail and needed all the strength she could get to care for her large family of children. Cora, feeling too cross and ungrateful to enjoy anything, sallied forth into the bright morning. It was amusing to note how many things were displeasing to her: the road was too muddy, the birds were too noisy and the mountains, far away, seemed cold and distant. Her musings were suddenly cut short by her arrival at the Brown’s back yard. Here Samuel Clemens Joseph Brown was just starting a shoot- the chutes. A small hill sloped gently from the back porch and at the bot¬ tom of this was a shallow pond. Samuel had just poured a pailful of water down the muddy path, and sitting on a board, he was proceeding to make the trial trip. With one delightful yell he hit the water. But alas! Instead of shooting to the other side of the pond he went ker-splash, face downward, into the muddy water, whence he soon emerged, spluttering, dripping, angry, amid the gibes of the others. “How’d you like it, Sam?” “Gee, ain’t he m-ad though!” And Skinny Jones, just arriving on the scene, began: “Smarty, smarty. Gave a party, No one came, But a-” Can t you keep still, you crazy? We’re tryin’ to hypnotize Mandy Jane, and we can’t do nothin’ when you’re hollerin’ that way,” came from a group

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sees two bright eyes of a monster approaching. “Ah! Seest thou the erynanthian boar? There is fire in his eye. Thou infester of humanity, Hercules wilst make thee labor for thy life.” He crouched, awaited the approach, sprang and raised his club to strike it full in the face—but alas! After a few moments he recovered from the suddenness of his fall, and saw the “beast” disappearing in the distance. “Thou wilt trample upon a Her¬ cules, wilt thou?” he shouted. All that night he roamed the hills in search of the “beast” which would dare to “trample upon a Hercules.” The next day he renewed his search, reached a hill from the top of which he saw r large white objects flying in the air. To our hero they were birds. He said excitedly to himself, “The Stymphalian birds, now shalt Hercules accom¬ plish a feat by destroying them.” He rushed into the field, and up to one of the monsters about to ascend, and struck it a blow with his club. No sooner had he accomplished this feat, than what seemed one of the claws of his enemy, caught him in the back of the coat, carried him to the other end of the field and dropped him. “Knowest thou with whom thou art trifling?” he cried. “By the Grecian gods, thou shalt suffer death.” But before he could say more the two representatives of modern invention were making record flights while the juvenile officer hurried our hero away to enjoy his dreams in seclusion. Charles Johnson, ’ll. A POTATO BUG—A SENIOR. I. A potato Bug sauntered down the lane, Says he. I’m no earthly use, If an education I could gain, I’d become an amiable youth. II. The potato bug had a coat of green. But after his Freshman year Traces of yellow could be seen, Gathering there and here. III. The potato bug worked steadily on, Rubbing and polishing the green, Churning the fat from every old leaf That in the books of learning were seen. IV. At last, to the topmost bud was he— A potato bug, staid and old. For his work had changed him From the ignorance of green To the knowledge of purest gold. -E. J„ ’ll.