Astoria High School - Zephyrus Yearbook (Astoria, OR)

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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.

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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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XEbe Columbia TRlver Iplratc The river seemed deserted. Only a few boats were out and they were apparently without destination. As we sailed past Fort Stevens I noticed a number of boats anchored below. I turned my boat around and with a fair wind sailed into their midst, where we dropped sail and anchored. While my boat-puller was busy preparing some coffee, I looked around and recognized my companions. They were all hard cases, each with a “reputa¬ tion.” Below me was anchored “Russian Nick;” to him was tied “old man Green.” To my left was anchored a Swede named Swenson; on the other side of men was an Italian called “Curly,” and above “Curly” was a Swede, whose name I did not know r , but whom I recognized by the green letters on his boat; and above me lay “Big John.” The last-named bore the distinction of having been “high boat” with nineteen tons to his credit. It seemed strange that I should mingle with a crowed like this, but I had decided to do a night’s fishing and had found some company, all of whom had fished before on a Saturday night. “Curly” was the only one who had ever been caught and he had gotten off with a fine of fifty dollars. Later when the sky began to take on the darker shades of night, I heard “Big John” calling to us:—“I want to tell you something. It’s going to be a bad night for us. The moon wdll be out and when this wind dies out, you ' ll be able to see all over the river. If somebody will anchor at the ten buoy and keep a fire in his stove, as if he were cooking coffee, the fish- warden can go after him and we can take it easy.” “Well, I’m not a going to losa dea whole mighta fish, a laying dea anchor alia dea night,” said “Curly” hotly. “You don’t have to,” said “Big John” calmly. “We’ll pull straws.” “Sure”—“That’s all right” and “I’m a lucky dog anyway,” came from the different boats. Instead of pulling straws, “Big John” prepared some paper slips, one of which was blank. He passed his sou’wester from boat to boat and each captain drew a slip. “Big John” himself drew the last slip, which was the blank. About eight o’clock we left our anchorage and sailed farther down the