Lincoln High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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THE LEDGER IfSeventeen LOOKS ARE OFTEN DECEIVING VIRGINIA WINCIIELL Say, Slim, whereya goin'? asked Freckles of his chum. To the old mine. Wanna go 'long? f'Sure, justa minute. Soon the pair were on their way to the deserted coal mine-a place they had no right to enter. But they were just boys and in search of adventure, at that. On their arrival they looked carefully around to see that they weren't watched, then, with a hur- ried scramble, they were inside. O-o-fl groaned Freckles. Who've I run into? Say, guy, lay off! lt's me-Fred! Oh, I beg your pardon -this respectfully from Freckles. He recognized the voice of the preacher's son, the toughest kid in the village. Whatcha doin' in here? This question simul- taneously from both. Just lookin' 'round. Come along, answered Fred. The three scamps wandered around for about an hour, and didn't realize that they were lost until they tried to find the entrance. At first, they all put up a bold front-Freckles was the first to break down, then Slim. Fred was hard-boiled for about an hour, then suddenly startled his com- panions by dropping on his knees and praying- something like this: Oh, God, please let me get home! I-I--I'll never be bad any more. What'll my mama do? O-o-o-o-o-o, but it's dark-pie for supper! Ah-h-h! I wanna go home! What'd I ever-r come here fur? Oh, please show us the way out! l'll not play hookey any more. My dad'll pray for me, too. God!-oh! oh! oh! I wanna git outa here! Help! Help Help Help! He was finally hys- terical-scared stiff4so to speak. During the course of this prayer, Freckles had wandered ahead about fifty feet. A triumphant yell startled the other two into running. Their pal had discovered the exit from the old mine. As soon as they were safely out and used to the strong light, Fred turned on his friends with clenched fists and his noted 'ifighting mug on. Say, you two kids keep mum, he growled. 'Alf you ever dare tell anybody I got 'soft' in that mine, l'll knock the daylights outa you! You know I can. Now, shut up--remember! With this speech, he thrust his hands into his pockets and went whistling down the road, fol- lowed meekly by the dumfounded Freckles and Slim. To the Devastators KENNETH L. COLLINS Why devastate the forests, The rivers, and the sky, Of their many little citizens? Why try to make them die? They were put here for a purpose, just the same as you and I. Harm them not, ye devastators, We'll be lonely if they die.

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Sixleenil THE LEDGER THAT ROMANTIC AGE EVELYN BARMETTLOR In the breakfast room of a smart colonial man- sion in a smart suburb of Richley sat Mr. Dennis, a stout, portly man of middle age, who was quite prominent in the business world of Richleyg Mrs. Dennis, a large lady of the same age, who tried to be very prominent in Richley's social affairs, and their flapper daughter, Celeste, a rather pretty girl of about eighteen. Well, remarked Mrs. Dennis, as she looked through the neat stack of mail that was by her plate, here is an announcement of the engagement of Miss Alice Travers to Mr. Walter La Verne. As she said this she mentally checked off Mr. La Verne from her list of promising young men for Celeste. Mr. Dennis merely grunted, but Celeste turned pale, choked on a morsel of food and abruptly left the room, as her mother finished speaking. She went to her own room, where she threw her- self down on the bed. It was a pretty room, fur- nished in gay colors. A thick soft rug lay on the floor, and softly shaded lights were placed about the room and thin silk curtains fluttered in the breeze of that lazy Indian summer morning. Why, what's the matter with Celeste? asked Mrs. Dennis. Don't know, mumbled Mr. Dennis from the depths of his newspaper. He did not seem greatly concerned about his flapper daughter. Just then the door bell rang and the butler admitted a slen- der grey-eyed girl of about Celeste's age. There was a tiny hidden laugh in her wide set grey eyes, and a distinct charm about her made her a general favorite with people. Mr. Dennis' greeting to her was warm, more so than Mrs. Dennis', because she recognized the girl with her beauty and charming manners as a dangerous rival for Celeste. Good morning, Jean, he said, did you just get back from the beach? We've been home for about a week. If you should like to see Celeste you will find her in her room. After talking a while, Jean left the breakfast room and ran up a broad flight of stairs and knocked at the door of Celeste's room. On receiv- ing no answer, she opened the door and said, gaily, Hello, Celeste! . The still form on the bed did not move, so she crossed the room and sat down on the wide luxurious bed. Why, Celeste, child, what on earth is the matter? Still no answer, but something that sounded suspiciously like a sob shook the girl. Jean then lifted the dark, tousled, curly head and said in a motherly tone, Here, child, dry your tears and tell old Jean all about it. That will make you feel much better. Oh, Jean-Jean, Roger is engaged to that- horrid Alice Travers! The hidden laugh in Jean's eyes now became very evident and she found it very hard to keep the laughter out of her voice, but she succeeded to say in a sympathetic, grave tone: Roger-oh, you mean-Roger La Verne, whom you met down at the beach-Mrs. Dixon's nephew, theione who found and carried you down the mountain when you sprained your ankle, and sent you flowers and candy when you were illg who said you swam like a mermaid and danced like a fairy. Yes, Jean-oh, I'm heartbroken! He was aw- Oh, fully handsome. He had the keenest eyes. Jean, I simply adored him! Everyone did. I was that little empty-headed simp of an Alice Travers ever captured him! Oh! oh! this world is a dreary blank for me. There is no other man in this world for me! With this she buried her face in Jean's arms. Jean smiled a knowing smile, for she knew Ce- leste rather well, and knew that these outbursts were not infrequent. When she could control the merry laughter in her voice, she said in a very tragic tone, Oh, what a cruel world! Listen, Celeste, you'd better get in some decent clothes, because Bob and Terry are coming up for a set of tennis. What, Jean, not Terry Deland, that boy whose folks moved into the great new white house on the hill? All the girls are wild about him. Hurry, Jean, help me get into this new sport suit. Don't you think it is becoming? Hurry, Jean, if he's com- ing I must look nice. sure he liked me. I can't understand how

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Eighteenj THE LEDGER WHAT,S IN A NAME? SYLVAN IIALPERIN Ma Jones had lost her mind. There was no doubt of it. If the baby had been born at any other time, it would have been named John, or William, or any of the good old wornout names. But instead it was attached to the terrible caption, Archibald Marmaduke jones. Pa Jones was disgusted with his better half. Imagine me--me-with a baby named Archibald Marmadukeln he groaned, as he tried to seek an explanation for Ma Jones' absence of brains. Oh, shut up! said Ma jones. What are you croaking about, anyway? I'1l bring him up the way I want, and you can leave him alone! Yes, you'll bring him up. I've got an idea how youlll bring him up. Nice new Fauntleroy suit, cute little golden curls and pretty little white and pink shoes and stockings. Ugh! Get out of here, you brute. How dare you talk that way about our iddums cutems pinky-pink toesiesl She turned to the baby, and started cod- dling it. 'fGood-nightll' More groans and Pa Jones went out on the porch and made the air blue for about five minutes. Archie, at home, was treated like a prince. But outside it was different. Archie had turned out the way Pa Jones had predicted-a sissy--and he was treated by his schoolmates accordingly. But, of course, just as Ma Jones had taught him, he held his nose in the air and did not conde- s:end to look upon any who dared approach him. The effect of Ma Jones' teaching was beginning to tell on the boy. He was becoming snobbish. And Pa Jones, what could he do? He just sat and groaned behind his newspaper during the even- ings and listened to Ma Jones indulge in the gentle art of inventing new pet names for Archie. He had resolved not to interfere, but he was slowly be- coming disgusted with his wife's method. When are you going to teach the little dear how to make up the beds and darn my socks? he asked, sarcastically. All Ma Jones had to say was Shut up! and Pa Jones shut up. It was about this time that Pa Jones' mail began to get heavier. He received a long brown folder twice a week, and promptly retired with it to the attic, and for the next half hour Ma Jones would hear him jumping around and punching something. She didn't know just what it was, and Pa Jones wouldn't open his mouth on the subject. It isn't good for Archibald's constitution to have all that noise going on, she remarked at the table the first evening of the mysterious proceed- ing. Bahl replied Pa Jones and went on eating. 'One day when Archie was about eleven years old-the stage in his life Where he was wearing ai shiny, stiff collar and a big bow tie. Bill Graham happened to tease him a little more than usual. Living up to his mother's teaching, he promptly marched in and told the teacher. Coming out of school that afternoon, he met Bill at the corner and, with an ugly look on his face, Bill muttered, 'lHere's where I change your complexion, you little sissyfl , He grabbed Archie by the arm and pulled him into an alley, where he proceeded to muss him up considerably. Fifteen minutes later Archie slowly eased him- self up the front steps of his home, and dragged into the kitchen. Ma Jones looked up, and promptly dropped her jam fmzl the pan which she was holding. What happened to mother's little darling boy ? she cried, as she started toward him. Tell mother what happened. Archie told her as well as she could, considering the puffed lips he had lately acquired, while his mother washed him and applied a beefsteak to his black eye. Pa Jones came home for dinner to find his son sitting on lVIa Jones' lap, eating a piece of pie. Pa Jones was a sorry-looking spectacle himself-his face scratched up, his nose still bleeding and his right eye swollen. Ma Jones shrieked, and cried, You, too! What's the matter?