Oroville Union High School - Nugget Yearbook (Oroville, CA)

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WHY THE BUTTERCUP IS YELLOW The tall Hollyhock looked down condescendingly upon the pale little buttercup. “Yes. indeed.” she said. “When Dame Nature comes, we certainly have a festive time. Kvcry flower gives of its honey to make her a cool refreshing drink; and then we bask in her blessings.” The pale little buttercup looked up admiringly at her beautiful friend and asked. “Do you suppose she will help me to grow strong and beautiful like you?” “Oh.” replied the Hollyhock, nodding her graceful head sagely. “1 doubt if she will notice you.—there are so many beautiful creatures to take her attention. you know.” The poor Buttercup humbly bowed her head and sighed. “Of what good is my life? Oh. if I could only be great and beautiful! If I could only do some little good in the world!” A humming-bird, tired and faint with hunger, fluttered up to the Hollyhock, but the Hollyhock only drew up its petals and said. “I am sorry, but I am saving my honey for Dame Nature when she comes.” The bird looked at her sadly and weakly and said, “Yes. that is what all the blossoms say. and I am left to starve.” “Now is my chance to do something good.” thought Buttercup, and raising its head it joyously cried. “You shall have all of my honey, poor bird.” After the bird was refreshed it fluttered into the air and suddenly it changed into a beautiful woman, tall and strong with sunlight sparkling in her eyes and hair. The Hollyhock gasped and whispered. “Dame Nature ! While the poor Buttercup only bowed its head and trembled. Dame Nature smiled. “You have not only proven yourself kind at heart. said she. But you are (most blessed of all) meek in spirit, and for this good deeci you have done, you shall from now on be tl.c color of the richest metal on earth.” —MARIK DAVIS. ’17. REMINISCENCE it took form and shape in a certain studio standing among the green things of September when a wood-fire is a happy thing to look at and it near, and when ideas of a long drive over a quiet country are perhaps urged on by glimpses of a level meadow and a garden full of stillness and color. One day we had been sit- ting in this studio talking in an idle fashion of the early pioneer days when gold was discovered in California. It was an easy change from talking of the country to planning a drive across it. As we rode along we found that everything brought to us suggestions of the pioneer: the brave, enduring

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and carrying flowers with them. Something about the poise of one of them struck me. and my heart gave a great bound, for I thought I recognized the Princess. Thinking so, I hastened my steps, that I. too. might see the grave where lay the boy. Coming up to the gates I could see the Princess a little way within them, for it seems they had stopped to speak to the old keeper. So, cautiously and at a Ittle distance. 1 followed her till presently she stopped at a newly made grave with a tiny white stone at its head, and having distributed her flowers, knelt down beside it to pray. Whereat, knowing that she found him once again. I stole softly and silently away. W ell do 1 know now that she comes no more, that they two. who were never apart, are now together, for on that tiny white stone is graven these words— Basil. Au Revoir.” MARY TO LAND, 15. MY FRIEND. God’s greatest gift was once bestowed on me— A friend—Yes one so mated to my soul”— That we together strove to reach the goal-The height of life, where all is pure and free. W'e knew youth’s happy, golden hour would flee. But little did we dream how great a toll. Time would exact; or how the clouds would roll. Above our path until we scarce could see. The years have passed, and we are far apart! In memory only we each other greet. When, thinking of the past, the tear drops start. Instead I thank my God for friendship sweet. And then I hear hope whisper to my heart. Look up. be brave! Some day thy friend thou’lt meet. —HUBERT R. GASKINS. '16. 19

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pioneer, who left in the fertile regions, names that are rhyme upon the tongue and music to the ear; whose haunts are to he seen with the charm of better days upon them, hut still haunted by the memory of a v anished people. The sweet notes of a guitar fell enchantingly upon our ears, and turning a bend in the road, we came upon a very old log cabin covered with ivy that clung lovingly to the old logs. Over the top of the cabin proudly waved “Old Glory.” as evidence that even in the deepest solitude patriotism had not been forgotten. Reside the hut was a grave which was rich with verdure and hung with ivy wreaths. Our curiosity was aroused by this odd looking building. so we decided to investigate. We approached the door and knocked; immediately a string was drawn which raised a wooden latch. An old pioneer came to the door, saluted us. and invited us to come in. A bright lire on the hearth flickered cheerily. In the center of the room stood a rude table bright with bouquets of slender ferns and scarlet flowers. A homemade couch sat in one corner. Several high-backed, home-made chairs stood around the room. On the wall hung a picture—a beautiful lady, young and cheerful in appearance, but dressed like people of olden times with skirts that sat out stiffly. Under the picture stood a bouquet of roses. We became engaged in conversation and the pioneer told many stories to us. The most interesting of these was the story of his life, which I shall repeat: “My life is a story unhappy ami unfortunate. My mother-country is Ireland, the Buffer state of Europe. When I heard of the discovery of gold in California. I decided to change my career and go in search of gold. 2 I crossed the Plains in a prairie schooner pulled by oxen. After enduring many hardships I arrived at Sacramento and proceeded eastward to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. “At their base I found that the dream of my life had come true. The creeks ran and sputtered as if to call my attention to their beautiful waters, which glistened with the sun's rays. The trees seemed vibratory with the songs of the birds. The green grass formed a velvet carpet beneath my feet. Never had I seen a place with such stillness and repose. It was a Paradise. “Exhausted from my long journey. I retired for the night beneath the shade of a massive pine—my only shelter, the canopy of Heaven and the foliage of the tree My sleep was a restless one. being interrupted by the cries of wild animals. “Hav after day dragged monotonously on. At last however, there came a change, for my eager search was at length rewarded. (lazing at the bottom of a creek. 1 discovered yellow particles which I concluded were gold. In order to reach the creek. I cut the heavy mass of vines and brush with my pocket knife. This creek proved to be extremely rich, and 1 soon accumulated a vast amount of wealth. “About two years later I fell in love and was married — 1 built my future home where a fine old studio now stands, and as I look over a quiet country, old memories arise in me---------- I remember our courtship days. ()h, she was young and beautiful. “I remember our wedding day and what a glorious