Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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12 GARFIELD GLEANER old man sank back into his chair, and as he did so the pipe dropped to the floor and was shattered into a myriad of pieces. A broken pipe and a broken heart, but a happy soul, for now the master walked in the open fields with a joyful dog beside him. Bernice Edgar, H-9. EAGLE FEATHER ' S BIRD Note: If you wish to see Eagle Feather, look on page 23 of our History text (The History of the American Peo- ple, by Beard and Bagley). He is at the right of Columbus. Off the southeast coast of Florida, on San Salvador Island, there was a quaint village where a tribe of North American Indians lived. One day little Eagle Feather, the son of Chief Ka-bib-on-okha, was playing with his bow and arrows. A bird flew by, and Eagle Feather ran after it, thinking he could kill it with his arrow. Farther and farther from his village he ran. Finally he sank exhausted to the ground, and he found himself on top of a mound which overlooked the ocean. He looked down on the yellow sand and watched the waves dance about. It was early in the morning, and the sun was just coming up. Far across the water he saw something that looked like a big white bird. It had many white wings, and its body was plump and clumsy. It floated over the waves; nearer and nearer it came, until Eagle Feather could see a spot of color and brightness, floating above the bird ' s largest wing. Then the bird settled down on the blue water and rocked at rest. Eagle Feather waited no longer; he pic ked up his arrows and darted down the hill to the village. Soon the story of the great bird was spread. Some of the old folks did not be- lieve it, and they said that they had lived many moons and had never heard of such a bird before. So they went to see for them- selves, and came back saying that Eagle Feather was right, except that it had no wings. It has folded its wings, the boy replied. The whole village went to the top of the hill to see the great bird. All of a sudden a warrior whispered, A canoe comes from behind the bird! Then other warriors said, The canoe is full of beings! One carries a bright thing on a pole. The canoe lands! They walk on two legs as we do, but they are beautiful and shining. They are Gods! One is the Chief! The others bow and kiss his hand! He kneels! He plants the pole with the color on it. Now he makes a low talk. Now they are very still. (Columbus and his followers were kneel- ing in prayer.) The Indians asked each other if they should go and meet them, but Eagle Feather had made up his mind already. As he came nearer, the Chief spied him and beckoned him to approach. He plucked up his cour- age and bravely started walking towards the beach, remembering that he was a Chief ' s son. The beautiful chief came to meet him and patted his head kindly, and said some strange words. He then handed Eagle Feather some bright colored cloth and glass beads. Eagle Feather ran proudly back to his people to show them his gifts. Winifred McGill, L-7-P. NAUGHTY JIMMIE AND JOHNNIE— (AFTER HORATIUS) On Jimmie ' s hand the teacher right firmly pressed the rule, Twice and three times he had talked, and bothered the whole school. And see, she cried, the welcome that bids you come at three, You ' ve been a very naughty boy; stay after school with me. But when the teacher said this, poor Jimmie blushed quite red. Before all the wondering pupils, he shrank in shame and dread; There ' s no excuse for Jimmie, what the teacher said she meant. So back into his classroom after school poor Jim was sent. Plainly and more plainly now might the children know. That lazy Johnny his lesson didn ' t do. There sat the teacher of the class, on her face was seen surprise, Johnnie, said the teacher, you do too lit- tle for your size. Near by the dusty blackboard, o ' erlooking all the place, The stern and dreaded teacher stood with an angry face. Beside h er stood small Jimmie, who talked and also shirked, And naughty little Johnnie, who never, never, worked. Margaret Thunen, H-7. NOSMO KING. A pair of doting parents were so fond of their child that they decided that an ordi- nary name would not be suitable for him. As they were out riding one day they passed a warehouse where a sliding door was only partly open, and they saw the word Nosmo. The mother exclaimed: That would be a nice name for our dear one. It is so extraordinary. The next day they again passed the ware- house, and this time the door was pushed the other way. This time they saw King written there. Nosmo King, they both repeated. We will name our dear one Nosmo King. It was several days later — and the child in the meantime had been christened — that they drove that way again. The door was completely closed and they saw the name, No Smoking. — Ex. Mary Barnett, H-9.

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GARFIELD GLEANER 11 The harvests and the fields of those that yet were living Were colored, painted bright, with au- tumn ' s gold. Looking back o ' er ages past, we all do seem as naught. As we think of centuries that have ever onward rolled, Yet while we pause; the world, ourselves, and e ' en each little thought Doth shine, in radiance, with autumn ' s gold. Ruth Waldo, L9. FAN, A TRUE STORY OF A DOG Fan was a shepherd dog, and because she was so intelligent everybody wanted one of her pups. One day a man came and asked Fan ' s master if there were any of her pups left. Only two, was the answer, come out and take your choice. Fan knew what happened when anybody handled her pups. The master invited the man to dinner, tell- ing him he could get the pups afterwards. That was the last they saw of the pups. When they came out after dinner there wasn ' t a pup to be seen. Fan was lying where they had left her. They searched high and low, but they couldn ' t find a pup. Finally, as it was getting late, Fan ' s master told the man to come over next day and they would then find the pups. Next day they watched and watched Fan, but they couldn ' t find where the pups were. After many weeks the master ' s son was cutting alfalfa on his farm a half mile away and under a bank, where the irrigating water had washed out a cave were the missing pups, as fat and big as could be. The master had gone over the piece of ground again and again and not a sound did those pups make, so the master said Fan could keep her pups this time. Nancy Campbell, L7. FOUNDING OF JAMESTOWN. ' Twas in 1607, and in May A vessel, came from far away. Went sailing up the Chesapeake Bay. Where now the city Jamestown stands, And many a cargo daily lands, Its folks embarked upon the sands. And mostly gentlemen were they, Who knew less of work than of play, When they came sailing up the bay. But when hunger perished some. And others filled their graves, through rum, Then to the rest did wisdom come. So, led by Smith, their captain brave. They learned to work, their lives to save, And tilled the fields that succor gave. And so the city they did found. And all the colony around Grew prosperous and renowned. Alma Brooks, H7. ACROSTIC ON GARFIELD SCHOOL G is for greatness which we hope to attain, A is for ardor which will always remain, R is for radiant light which we shed, F is for faith, by which we are led, I is for industry, through which we succeed, E is for energy, the one greatest need, L is for labor, by which all is won, D is for deeds which we ' ve nobly done. S is for sunshine it spreads everywhere, C is for courage to do and to dare, H is for happiness it makes us to know, O opportunity it gives as we go, O is for outcome which is bright, as a rule, L is for love which we have for our school. Edith Hebard, H-9. THE BROKEN PIPE He was a queer old one, Frederick Ba- con. There seemed always about him an air of sadness. Perhaps it had been disappoint- ment in love. Still it seemed deeper than that, perhaps some tragedy had come to pass in his life that left him to mourn and smoke his pipe. Never was he seen without this old pipe of a fashion popular about sixty years ago. He cherished it, and it seemed that all his hopes lay in the smoke that curled from the bowl of this old briar. The story of his life came to be known under these circumstances that I am now to relate. The children, of course, were greatly interested in him, as all children are in some unusual person. He was a character to them. This night, as they sat in front of the open fireplace waiting for the usual story to be told to them, they were greatly surprised to hear him telling about his own life. It was about forty years ago, at the time of the Berkeley fire, that I lived in what you now know as the ruins. (This was one of his peculiarities; he refused to clear off his lot and declared that the charred ruins and the chimney must be left standing. He had refused to give any reason for this.) Well, once, well nigh all of Berkeley looked that way. The chimneys stood like tombstones in a graveyard. But there were no dead, said one of the children. Ah, yes, death was there. Tears dimmed his eyes. The room had fallen silent except for the crackling of the logs in the grate. He spoke again, The day of the fire I was in San Francisco, and upon hearing that Berke- ley was being destroyed by fire I rushed home, only in time to see my home begin to flame. They would not let me go inside, but Laddie Boy, seeing that I wanted something, ran inside and soon reappeared at the door. Just as he crossed the threshold the heavy frame collapsed. He was caught beneath it, but in a moment had managed to crawl out from under. He dragged himself to- ward me and fell at my feet — dead. From his mouth there fell my old pipe. But he had done a far greater service. Again silence prevailed in the room. The

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GARFIELD GLEANER 13 A DEWY MORNING The dew of morn so fresh and sweet, Still lingers on the ground. The misty drops in circles neat Are glistening all around. The morning air is misty, wet, A dewy mantle falls, A cloud of fog enshrouds us yet With damp and misty palls. But look! Behold! The sun is out. With bright and shining ray, The clouds of mist are put to rout, And lo! a glorious day. Dorothy Herrick, H-9. MY POCKETBOOK I ' ve got a little pocketbook, ' Twas on the Christmas tree; It ' s bright and new, for Santa Glaus Did send it right to me. It ' s got a little looking-glass; It fastens with a spring; I never saw in all my life Such a very pretty thing. But don ' t you think that it ' s too bad? Put down your ear a minute — My darling little pocketbook Has not a penny in it. Anita Dale Greenhood, L-7. ORIGIN OF OUR ECLIPSE (Original Myth) Phoebus was not always unsuccessful in his conquests, as is shown in the myth of Diana and Phoebus. Diana averred that her light was more welcome to mortals than the glaring heat of mid day. Of course Apollo resented this and challenged her to try crossing his path. Diana accepted and tauntingly said that she knew the people on Earth would welcome her cool rays in place of the scorching ones of her brother. The gods and goddesses, much interested in this contest, assembled the following day and prepared to watch it. Apollo set off at the usual time, with Diana closely pursuing him. All went well until the Lady of the Moon attempted to pass the Sun. To do this she had to go to one side of the beaten path. Her chariot was therefore directly in front of her broth- er ' s. The mortals on Earth suddenly felt a depressing darkness descend upon them.. In terror one and all crouched closely to Mother Earth for protection. Offering pray- ers to the gods, they begged to be punished differently if they had sinned and to be spared this terrifying darkness. The gods heard these prayers and trans- posed them to Apollo, who was having great sport, but, seeing the seriousness of the situation, rode closer to Diana. Diana, who, on account of the terrific heat, was swerv- ing from side to side, lost control of the reins and began to descend. Apollo, who really loved his sister, reached out and caught her reins, thus guiding her back to the path. Apollo again shone out in all his glory and the people on Earth rejoiced. Diana never could be quite reconciled to her defeat, so occasionally, when in high spirits, she tries again, only to be conquered by the stronger rays of her brother, the Sun. Eloise Nichols, H-9. SOLID TRUTH A few years ago I was up in Alaska. I had a great desire to get a polar bear, but had no luck whatever in getting any such animal. On the day before I was to return to Cali- fornia, I got out an eight-gauge shotgun, a lot of buckshot, and a horn of powder, and started out after a bear. I saw no more of a bear than I saw of an elephant, and so, after a morning ' s hunt I got mad, and shot a lot of rabbits and ptarmagin. I had shot what I thought to be about two-thirds of my shot, when on my way home I came face to face with a polar bear, as big as an elephant, just as I rambled around a corner. I raised my young cannon, and pulled the trigger. Nothing but a metallic click! Out of shot! I wasn ' t a bit scared, but just the little beads of perspiration stood out on my forehead, and froze into little balls of ice, (it was a hundred degrees below zero at this time of the year) and fell down at my feet. An inspiration came to me, and I hastily grabbed a handful of the little balls, and stuffed them into the gun for shot. Taking careful aim, I again yanked the trigger, and to my surprise, the powder, ex- ploding, melted the shot, and a stream of water flew straight at the bear. You must remember the intense cold that I told you about. The stream of water froze in midair, and an icicle struck the bear pointblank between the eyes, and pierced his brain. The life-warmth of the bear melted the icicle, and the bear died of water on the brain. (With apologies to unknown author.) James Kavanagh, L-9-I.