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Page 12 text:
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DAWN When the sun comes 'peeping And rising into the sky, Then you'll know that Morn is drawing nigh. 'Tis then the birds start singing Some beautiful song, And the great black crow starts croaking As long as the day is long. The dawn is a beautiful sight, When the sun stretches his arms Out over the night, And shows us beautiful farms. Kenneth Watson, Freshman SPRING Spring is coming, coming fast, Soon we'll see small blades of grass, And the snow will soon be gone- Tiny birds will sing their song. From the meadows there will come The scent of clover in the sun. Then the branches of the trees Will burst 'forth with bright, green leaves. When at last there's no more snow All the boys will fishing go, And when the flowers bloom one by one 'Tis then you'll know that spring has come. -Doris Lane, '39 SUMMER Summer time will be here soon, With flowers nodding gay, The birds will be back by June Making music all the day. Summer makes things merry For children that are at play, The children are all cheery On most every summer day. -Crystal Post, Freshman HOME There's a cottage surrounded by climbing green vines, At the top of a long winding hill, 'Bout twilight at night when I wander up there Everything seems so peaceful and still. The windows are shaded by curtains so bright Of ivory trimmed lightly with green, The kitchen is sparkling with dishes so neatg To me, it's a heavenly scene. A thin line of smoke curls lazily up, And soon disappears out of sight, And I see hier there waiting, as I open the door And go in out of the night. Supper is waiting, the table is set With dishes we picked out together- The tiny, bright rosebiuds that cover the plates Bring sunshine in all kinds of weather. Oh, gee! But I'm happy as I close the door, Dont the plants by the window look sweet? And as I gather her close in my arms, My dreams at last are complete. -Freida M. Fowlie, '38 THE LAST OF THE FORGOTTEN TRIBE It was about 1723 when a group of explor- ers led by William Hunt set out to find a settlement. There were fifteen men in the group, each one had a pack which contained food and supplies. As they were settling down, after having supper, they heard a low mournful cry, as they listened they kept hearing it. They all jumped up, grabbing a gun, then separ- ated and headed for the sound. As they grew closer, it became more distiwnctg and they knew it was a person in pain. After they had gone a, little ways, they saw a figure stretched out in the moonlight. As they went up they found it to be an old Indian, who had been wandering along and got into a bear trap. He was unconscious. They got some poles and pried the claws apart and got him out and dragged him down to a pool, and brought him to, and from his lips he murmured, God bless you, and went back to sleep. They took him to camp and doctored up his leg, th-en they made a bed for him. In the morning when they awoke, he was up and had built a fire, and was starting to prepare breakfast. . After they had eaten, they began to talk about what they were to do next. After a while it was decided to stay around there that day and hunt for food. After dinner was over and they were set- tling down to talk, the Indian rose and said, My name Eagle's Eye, I am the last in my tribe, white man, my friend, I give him rich cave for saving my life, and he handed them a paper which was a map to the cave. Th-en. Eagle's Eye said, God bless you, and turned and walked off up the trail nev- er to be heard of again. -Elwood Watson Cooley, '40
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Page 11 text:
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We think that seventeen to nineteen is the period of getting acquainted and forming friendships. These friendships should prob- ably not be taken too seriously. There should probably be a number of them and they should be looked upon as opportunities of getting acquainted with different types of boys, or girls, who might make interesting and worthwhile friends. To this end, we think that every one of our homes should be a ren- dezvous for our friends, instead of our feel- ing that we need to go out and make our friends elsewhere. Our fathers and mothers, instead of taking the attitude that they want to segregate us and keep us from others, ought to be anxious to know our friends, and to make us feel the greatest freedom in bring- ing home those with whom we keep company. This has an advantage to them as well as to us. It gives our parents a chance to guide forming ideals of friendship and it us a chance to see how our friend us in gives shows up in the setting of our own home. lmow that home is the best place to We make friendships worthwhile. The pick-up friendships, started on auto rides, at dances, or on street corners, and carried on out of sight of our parents, contain elements of the greatest dangerg and we know it. So we are glad that we can say that at least some of our parents have taken our dlesire for friendships seriously ami co-operate with us in making home a pleasant place to which to bring o-ur friends. In conclusion, we know that we should go slowly, that we should call our early affairs love-affairsng and that we friendships, not should have sense enough, at seventeen, eight- een, or nineteen, to let our heads do straight thinking and our hearts give us the very highest of ideals. YOUR DIPLOMA What is a diploma? It is a letter or Writ- ing usually under seal, confining some priv- ilege, honor, or power, or a document bearing record of degree. One high school boy or girl says, A di- ploma doesn't amount to much. Another says, It won't do me any good if I graduate from high school. My diploma will just be a piece of' heavy paper with. a few words scribbled onto it. But they are all wrong if they take that attitude towards it. Your diploma amounts to a great deal. Sit down for a couple of minutes and just think how proud you will feel when you receive your diploma on that last Friday night. To have the Superintend- ent of Schools. pass you a. diploma or certi- ficate with his signature, the school boards' signature, and your principal's signature on it, ought to mean something to you. Your diploma will also be a great benefit to you after you graduate from high school. Iln a great many cases you have to have your diploma before yo-u can get a job that amounts to very much. So don't give up the task of graduating from high school. Remember, it was once said, If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. -Jennie Fowlie, '37 PEOPLE WHO GIVE ADVICE Isn't it peculiar, the number of people around you, who are always willing to give advice? They never stop to think that they often need' it themselves. Many a man who can't even patch a tire would stop his work to tell you how an automobile should be built. Many a woman who can't even make a cake would enjoy telling you how to bring up your little Johnny, or how to run your household in a better way. I guess most all of us are bothered more or less with that incurable habit of giving advice. I can remember more than once when I've tried to tell somebody how to do some- thing, only to find out in the end that she knows more about it than I db. Are you bothered by one of those toro- .friendly neighbors who knows just how to get your clothes whiter, because she has the whitest wash on her street? Or one who al- ways knows just how to do this or do that? Then, maybe you can understand what I mean. Why, honestly, I'd rather have- the mumps twice a week than have a neighbor who is too willing to give advice. -Freida M. Fowlie, '38 The sportsman keeps the rules, keeps faith with his comrades and plays the game for his side, keeps himself fit, keeps his tem- per, keeps from hitting a man when he is downg keeps his pride under in victory and keeps a stout heart in defeat. Quoted
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Page 13 text:
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CHRISTMAS AMONG THE OREGON PINES Big Bill, in spite of his six foot four, was a boy at heart. Boss of a logging crew, he could be plenty stern when occasion demand- ed, but a Christmas tree and all the lights and cheer that goes with it was his weak- ness. Christmas is no fun without children, was the way he put it. But it looked like Bill was doomed to disappointment this year. The crew were lounging around the fire af- ter a hard day's work when 5Pudgy Sam, the cook, shook the ashes out of his pipe and said: What's the reason we can't have a Christmas just like home right here? Plenty trees, if we can muster the trimmin's. Bob, the little dishwasher, was all enthus- iasm. We've got popcorn. I've strung yards at home for Mom. Sam's got a harmonica, and Dane a Jew's harp, an' some of you fel- lows can sing. And I'll trim the tree. The Boss wouldn't think much of a Christ- mas without little 'unis, put in Dane. There's the Martins. They got a couple children, we can ring them in. I was by there the other day an' heard them talkin' about Santa comin'. Boss said Martin looks sort of beat out, too, said another. Suppose we appoint Bob, here, as a committee of one to extend our invitation for them to join us. I feel We owe them something, the way they helped us when some of the men had Hu. Big Bill was jubilant with their plans. You fellows took the wind out of my sails, but you'll do a better job than I could. Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem, led by Sam's harmoncia, floated out from lusty throats upon another star-strewn night. Big Bill in a scrambled suit of red flannel and a hemp beard was a satisfactory Santa Claus to at least two happy children. He handed out gifts to everyone. Sam had done his best on the feast that followed and ev- erybody joined in the three cheers and a tiger for a jolly Christmas among the Ore- gon Pines. -Wilma Johnsofn, '40 THE STRANGER There's a tiny little stranger Came to our place last night, Already we all love her, 'Cause she's such a little tike . She has a tiny little face Makes such tiny sounds, Her eyes are awfully pretty 'Cause they are so big and round. They brought her in the night-time, And Judy is h-er nameg And though she's only a little dog, We love her just the same. -Vida Fowlie-, '37 A TRY 'Tis kind of hard to write a poem To read in English class, And though this one's not very good I hope that it will pass. Have you heard of the man We call Kindlewood Joe? He cuts off people's beardus- Hangs them up in a row. He just loves to torture A person for fun, For he is a traitorous Son-of-a gun. He lives down on Cedar Creek In an old shack, And 'bout once a Week He goes off on a bat. Keep out of his way When he's having a spell, For whom he will murder You never can tell. He's just got one 'eye And his teeth are all gone- His clothes are all ragged And his hair is long, He ne'er shaves his whiskers, His beard is e'en dirty, His age is about Fifty-five and thirty. He's seven feet tall And as strong as a moose. His ears flap in the wind Like the Wings of a goose. Where that guy came 'from Nobody knows- But keep out of the way Of Kindlewood Joe. -G. N. C. '37 Editor's Note: The following story, Mexican Mystery , was written in the advanced English class which is taught by Miss Pineo-. The assign- ment, out of which the story grew, was as follows: Work out a plot and write a story suggested by the following situation: A tall brick chimney stands alone in a large 9
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