Joseph Le Conte Middle School - Le Contean Yearbook (Hollywood, CA)

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The Village Blacksmith H925 Modelj Under an ad for gasoline, The village smithy stands, He's agent for the Jinx machine. And several other brands. He hasn't shod a horse for years. For fear he'd soil his hands. He wears a gold watch on his wrist, A pearl pin in his tieg His links are made of amethyst. The finest he could buy. There's not a thing the smithy wears, That doesn't please the eye. VVeek in, week out, from morn till night, He sees the autos come, With brakes that are not working right, And axles on the bumg With gas, repairs, and grease and oil, He makes a tidy sum. He has a staff of skillful men, That number twenty-four, Who toil from 6 a. m. till 10, And sometimes even more. The smithy never docs a stroke. He thinks that work's a bore. He goes on Sunday to the kirk, His mind quite free from cares. Because his men are hard at work, On punctures and repairs, And if the Weatherys fine and warm, The smith says grateful prayers. Oiling, refilling, repairing, Onward through life he goes, And never once despairing, As long as his income grows, Each night the thought of some one done Augments his sweet repose. BETTY MACKAY, B9 f ws J

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Spoken by a Fossil I was a little Brachiosaurus only about two hundred and forty feet long. I had a neck that was longer than a giraffe's, a head the size of a rabbit's, and a tail the size of a house. I lived near the falls of the Hudson River. The falls are now covered by the sea. I loved to drink the muddy water of the great river as it went hurtling down the great cliff and on to the sea. The falls were only about nine hundred and thirty feet high. But water was not the only thing that went down the cliff. Now and then some tiny Brontosaur would fall down and be swept off to sea. Every now and then some Tyrannosaurus would playfully make a mouth- ful of my tail, as he clumsily hopped along. Then I would debate with myself whether I should nip him in return, swat him with my tail, or just roll him flatter than a Flounder. After reaching the important decision, I would play tag with him and carry out my desire. I did not eat meat. I browsed on the succulent herbage growing in the nearby swamps. lf I didn't eat meat, the Tyrannosaurus did, and whole droves of them came and played f'Get Your Mealn with me. I was the meal and they were the getters, but fortune was with me and somehow I remained intact except for occasional bites. Oh! How I loved the swamps. They were my birthplace, my mother, my doom and my grave. This was my fate: One lovely hot day when I was eating a sweet-tasting shrub, a drove of Tyrannosaurus came toward me and started to play f'Get Your NIeal. I was sulky, however, and walked off to an island of sand to drowse and bask in the rays of the sun. But I paid dearly for my fit of temper. Suddenly the sand gripped meg I couldn't move. Panic seized me, but the harder I tried the deeper I was mired. Pterodactyles came and started to eat me. A Tyrannosaurus came to eat part of me but was gripped by the treacherous sand. Down, down, down we sank until we were completely lost in the depths of the island. lVIany millions of years later I again saw the light, but it was colder, and strange things that hopped on two legs and had no tails and strange skins were standing by me. They had queer claws and made strange noises. I noticed that they were able to remove their claws at will. I was terror-stricken as they reached toward me. I remember nothing for a while until some queer-looking beings called scientists took my bones falas, to my shame, I had nothing elsej and mounted them in a large hall where there were the bones of my cousins. lVIore funny creatures came to look at me and made more strange noises. Oh! how I long for the swamps of my childhood! Woooizow BORAH. f 107 J

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The Heroine of the Lighthouse It was a sultry mid-summer day. The air was suffocating, and the horizon was very uneven. The clouds were rocking to and fro uneasily as though awaiting an oncoming storm. At least that was what Joan Randall thought as she busily went about the tasks which were her daily occupation in her father's house. Joan was the only child of james Randall, the lighthouse keeper. Her mother died shortly after she was born, but that was fourteen years ago, and she was rapidly approaching young womanhood. WVhen her work was finished she went upstairs to light the lamp in the tower. Then she sat down to await her father's arrival. The kettle was bub- bling merrily, as if it were trying to keep in time with Goldie, Joan's pet canary. As time flew on, Joan began to get anxious about her father. The clouds were growing blacker every minute, and white caps were beginning to appear on the waves. Drops of rain were growing larger and larger, while her anxiety increased. Her father had gone to see a sick friend. but had been detained by the storm. The storm by this time was at its full, everything was in utter darkness outside, and the waves were beating against the lighthouse with fury. Joan had seated herself by the window. As she looked out into the dark- ness, she saw a small light, hardly visible, rocking to and fro. She knew that this rnust be a ship, so she went upstairs to the tower to get a better view, but she was horrified when she got up there to find that the lamp had fallen and spilled the last of the oil. She knew that she must get oil before the ship reached the dangerous Devil's Shoal, near which the lighthouse was situated. VVhat should she do? There was only one thing. That was to row over to the mainland and get some more oil. Only too well did joan know the dangers one would encounter crossing from the lighthouse to the mainland in a storm. But it would have to be done, so slipping on her hat and coat. she started out. The storm was still raging outside, and Joan had a hard time guiding the boat against the current. Nevertheless, after much difficulty she finally managed to reach the landing. Borrowing some oil from a friend, she started back to the lighthouse. All went well until she reach the lighthouse. Unex- pectedly an enormous wave swept over and swamped the boat. -Ioan leaped just in time and caught a rope. It was the rope which kept the row boat from floating away. A few minutes later joan, dripping wet, climbed in at one of the windows. Although greatly fatigued, she ran quickly upstairs to the tower. In a few minutes the lamp was burning brightly. Exhausted from her adventure, and not waiting to see what effect the lamp had upon the ship, she lay down on her bed and sank into a deep sleep. The next morning when she awoke, she was surprised to see a little group f109l