Berkeley High School - Olla Podrida Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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THE OLLA POD R IDA 9 THe Family Honor Elsa ' s father and mother were dead. As far as she knew, she had always lived with her exacting and unsympathetic Aunt Jane, and her poor, bed-ridden, half-crazed grand- mother. Under the strict authority of her Aunt Jane, who, though seemingly indifferent to and uninterested in her little niece, yet con- scientiously preached truth and honor to the child, Elsa grew to have the excellent reputa- tion among her schoolmates of never having told a lie. And Elsa ' s fame was hardly won and well-deserved. One day, when all the children at school had marched into the class-room, they found their teacher busily writing at her desk. Her ac- tions looked suspicious, and there was a buzz of excitement in the room, for a few moments, since each scholar felt it his duty to impart to his neighbor, in a stage whisper, just what he thought was going to happen. But Elsa sat quietly with folded hands, as was her custom. Her heart beat uncomfortably, for she predict- ed an examination, and feared the results of one, for herself. Soon the teacher arose, and informed her pupils of the importance of the writing test she was going to give them, which would decide for each one whether he could be promoted or not. As she wrote the questions on the board, Elsa ' s face grew hot, and she thought to herself, I must be promoted. If 1 am not, Aunt Jane will be disgusted with me. She will say that if I am never to oe anything else than a stupid, I might as well not live. Poor Elsa! Her Aunt Jane ' s opinio n meant everything to her in those days. The questions were hard, but Elsa answered all but two. There was one that she had nev- er heard of before. The girl in front of her was writing, excitedly. Elsa wondered, idly, if that girl would be promoted. She felt the time slipping away gradually, and her heart beat faster and faster. Soon she got disagree- ably warm; then her head began to ache, and for a moment she rested it on her hand. Al- most unconsciously her eyes fell on the paper of the girl in front. There in black and white was the answer to that awful question. She knew her promotion depended on that question, and she thought of her Aunt Jane. It was the work of an instant to copy the answer on her own paper; then the bell rang, and the papers were taken up. That night, Elsa cried herself to sleep. She had never cheated before in her life, and her conscience rebelled. She would tell Aunt Jane the first thing in the morning; then everything would be the same again. But when Elsa went to breakfast the next morning, she was met with new difficulties. Miss Jackson has just told me that you did very well in your examination, and that you are promoted, said her Aunt Jane. I am very glad, Elsa, that you partake of the fam- ily intellect. You must remember, child, that honor and intellect are two of our family traits. Aunt Jane left the room then, but when she returned, Elsa was sobbing, violently. Come, come Elsa. You will barely have time to get to school. Run along! I will tell Miss Jackson about it, Elsa re- solved, miserably. But Miss Jackson met the little girl smilingly. I am delighted, dear, she said, that you succeeded so well. Your paper was very good, and I feel satisfied in promoting you. Oh! cried Elsa, with tears of despair, I don ' t deserve it — the promotion. Why, nonsense. Elsa. You mustn ' t cry, dear. You must feel happy about it. Awarded second prize in the prize story contest for this edition.

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s THE OLLA P O D R I D A be careful and don ' t get shot by the Filipinos or by our men in mistake. Thank you, Captain; 1 will try and take care of myself. At three o ' clock on Christmas morning, the Americans swooped down upon the unsuspect- ing villagers like an eagle upon its prey. They drove all before them, pursuing them far into the forest, for the Americans were determined to revenge the insult to their flag. But Dick, as soon as he got inside the village, hastened to the hut where Jack was confined. Seizing a musket, Dick made short work of the two sleep} ' guards. In three seconds he had Jack ' s bonds cut, and once more the friends were united. Thank you, old man! said Jack. I can never repay you. Get out! I didn ' t do anything, ex- plained Dick. Come help me get my box from where 1 hid it. After Dick had recovered his precious box, Jack made him change his clothes and sit be- fore a warm fire, so that he would not catch a fever, despite Dick ' s emphatic protestation. Then Dick proceeded to tell his story. Christmas morning dawned on a world of beauty, for the rain of last night had only ? v 9 S freshened the landscape. Clear skies looked down upon the plumed heads of the bananas and cocoanuts, and upon the wide-spreading mangrove, while hundreds of brilliant, tropical flowers reflected the sun ' s rays. All was quiet and peaceful in the village, for none but a few women and children had remained, and the Americans were enjoying their well-earned rest. Nothing save the sentinels pacing their beats and the mountain-howitzer, with its hundred deaths, betokened that grim var was in this garden of Eden. As Dick looked upon this scene of quietness and peace, he felt a true Christian spirit of peace on earth and good will to man He even felt a feeling of pity for the treacherous Filipinos, because they had been driven from home. And Dick sighed, — How I would like to step in on the folks at home. It would be Christmas then sure ! As he turned to go into the tent, his eves fell on that precious box, which had saved him and his companions from probable death. As he thought of the loving hands that had packed it, a tear dropped from his eyes and he thanked God for his preservation . Berthold Foster Hews, B. H. S., ' 03. s Past Reflections This life of ours has been compared To many things beneath the sun; By some a battle-field declared, By some a stage, where every one Must play his part, both great and small, And frown or smile, or plead, or fight, Until the curtain ' s final fall Hides him at length from mortal sight. And some say life is but a school To fit us for a higher sphere, Where heavenly love and wisdom rule, But dimly comprehended here. So may it be to all our boys — A school of labor and of love, Where useful work and harmless jojs Succeed each other, may it prove ! May life to us a High School be — A school of manle, true endeavor, Of duty, kindness, charity, And good deeds that endure forever; And then — for all ends here below — When school is over, work and play, May each with good report, to show, Go home for the long Holiday ! -L. C. H., ' 03.

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10 THE OLLA PODRIDA Ah! here was the opportunity to confess! But, in that moment, Elsa ' s courage failed; oO she went to her seat, her heart bursting with sorrow and shame. School closed, soon after, and Elsa never saw Miss Jackson again. She felt that her last chance had gone, for making restitution. She had little comfort in her promotion, for it always seemed that she had no right in that class; she did not belong there. Of course, being a child, she often forgot all about the af- fair, but then it would appear again sudden- ly, bare and ugly. One day, as she walked along the path, she overheard one little girl tell another, That girl is Elsa Green, and she never told a lie. Elsa ' s face flushed with pride, at first, but then the awful truth swept over her. There had been the time, yes! — but that was all past, and things were different, now. Oh! why had she never confessed it? Could she never be called honorable, again? After a few years, Elsa ' s grandmother died, and she and her Aunt Jane moved away to an- other city. Here was the chance, Elsa thought, to make amends for her sin. She would begin a new life here, and would w ipe out her past error, with a new and spotless record. Elsa was very popular in her High School life; but never did she forfeit her school-work for any sort of pleasure. High standing in school was her first thought. She felt as though she owed good, hard studying to some indefinite being. She was making amends. But somehow, with all her earnest labor, and efforts to obliterate her early mistake, the memory of it would remain — she could not forget. It is not the cheating, exactly, that haunts me so, she explained to herself, although that alone is bad enough. But it is the knowl- edge that, all these years, I have lied to my aunt, and my teachers and my friends. I have been acting one long lie. 1 have allowed them to give me undeserved honor, when 1 should have undeceived them. It was hard, at first, to confess. It is impossible, now. ' Near rhe end of Elsa ' s Senior year, her class gave a reception to the parents, friends, and the faculty. Elsa was very happy that night, and moved about gaily in her white dress. Her heart was care-free, and she laughed and talked with the rest. She was an import- ant person about this time; for she was to be the class prophetess, the heroine of the class- play, the leader of the cotillion in the dance, and a prominent factor in the class affairs, gener- ally. And, so, Elsa was happy, because she was young. Once, during the evening, Elsa discovered her aunt conversing with one of the professors. We have just been discussing you, Miss Elsa, the instructor said to her. Oh! don ' t go, as the girl started, laughingly-,-- to with- draw. Stay, and I will tell you what nice things we said about you. I said to your aunt, ' there have bee n many more brilliant scholars in the school, and many more digs, but in all my years of experience, here, I have never seen a more earnest student, or a more honor- able one, then Elsa Green. ' I would like to clasp the hand of an honorable student. I am not able to do so often. And the professor extended his hand frankly. But Elsa grew very white. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and she dared not raise her eyes. I will tell them both, now, she said to herself. I will tell them how — . For shame, Elsa! ' ' cried her aunt. Shake hands with your teacher, quickly. We Greens have always prided ourselves on our honor, you know, Mr. Krillan. And so, with burning cheeks, Elsa extended her hand. The cruel memory of another un- truth was heaped upon her. The burden of them all was so heavy — so hard to endure ! Soon after the reception, the day came that was set apart for the final examinations. It was a time of unhappiness for many, but others were more fortunate. Elsa, when the noon hour came, went home, rejoicing. She was well-satisfied with her morning ' s work, and did not dread the afternoon.