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

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m I V I A SAFETY LAST Father Yellowjacket walked around his paper house to see how many of his children had hatched out during the night. He walked all about but found only one that had lifted the cover from hb little bed. ‘Only one this morning.” he shouted back to his beautiful mate. The tiny infant climbed out and followed its father to the roof of tl.eir home. Now. sit right here until your wings get straight.” instructed the father. If the great sun likes you well enough he will change your white shirt into a beautiful yellow jacket.” When Daddy Jacket thought his son was well done, he said. Follow me, and I will show you how to sharpen your tall. A yellowjacket without a weapon, you must know, b no more than a mere bug. First you walk up o one of those pebbles, then walk around it one way ten times. After that walk around the other way ten times, but always keep your tail on the stone.” IJy the time the young one had fulfilled the instructions, his stinger was so sharp he was almost afraid of himself. Now. you must mix some dope for stinger, for a stinger is not dangerous without some poison. Kill that bug with the red head, smash him, mix him with some pollen from the deadly Night Shade and a piece of Poison Oak Leaf. Put a little of that on your tail and you are safe. Whenever you meet an enemy, just back up and sit down. —CHESTER THUNEN. 18. The W in nor Her tongue need not be framed to music.” Nor her hand be armed to kill. Her face need not be the mold of beauty.’ Her heart not the throne of will Above the crowd she may not rise By wealth, or deed of fame. Nor lean upon the treasured gift of some ancestral name. But somehow, somewhere, patiently, By heroism led. She lives her life, from day to day; Her heart with greed ne’er fed. As true to life’s best aims is she As the sunbeams to the sun— ” 'Tis she.” methinks. the angels say, In the race of life—has won.” II R. GASKINS. 16. 27

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I ▼ I A Metropolitan club, the headquarters of the pinochle players of Chicago. He went In and asked an attendant to point out the best player in the room. The attendant looked around and then pointed to a young fellow sitting alone at one of the tables and said. 'That is Janies A. Mertzer, the champion pinochle player of America. Spitzenburg went up to him and point blank asked if he had ever been in love. Mertzer laughed and said. 'I guess I have, I am married and have two children. Then Spitzenburg told him the whole story and asked Mertzer if he would teach him to play so as to be able to beat Hurtzenburg.” Mertzer called for cards but after playing a few hands said. 'You’ll never make a player, but I have been thinking of an idea which Bruno Lessing used in one of his stories which might w’ork in this case.’ Then he told him how Bruno Lessing disposed of just such a case. The upshot of it all was that a plan was agreed on so Hat Spitzenburg wculd have a chance to win Rosie. “The next Saturday night when Hurtzenburg entered Moser’s Coffee House, he was accosted by Spitzenburg who asked him if he would take a third hand in a game of pin ochle with himself and a friend. “Hurtzenburg said. 'Sure, but I didn’t know you played. Rudolph.' This was the first time he had called fcm by his given name. Spitzenburg took him to a table where he introduced him to a third man. Mr. Hoffman, a man with a heavy white beard and long white hair, but surprisingly young eyes. The first game was played, Hurtzenburg winning over Spitzen-burg by a few points, but the slight difference seemed to worry Spitzenburg. for he kept saying that if it had not been for a bad turn of luck in the last few hands, he would have won the game. At last Hurtzenburg got out of patience ami said: 1 11 tell you what we will do. If you win the next game you marry Rosie, but if I win, you must never speak to her again. If Mr. Hoffman wins, the one with the highest score between us wins this agreement. A careful observer watching that game would have noticed signaling between Hoffman and Spitzenburg, and needless to say. Spitzenburg won the game by a slignt lead. The papers announced the marriage, but didn’t announce the fact about Hurtzenburg putting his ‘son-in law' in business, nor soon after the marriage asking Spitzenburg to play him a couple of games of Pinochle. Spitzenburg refused, saying that since his marriage he had sworn off from all things that did not pertain to business and now kept his head in his business. The two men left the train at Chicago and I saw a card lying on the seat which had been occupied by the speaker. I picked it up and read: JAMES A. MERTZER. Chicago, Illinois. 26 —GUS GERSON. T8.

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A LITTLE I V I A High up in the mountains near a roadside, a little Hr tree sprang up. It was sheltered by many huge pines and other forest neighbors. As it grew into a pretty little tree, people in passing spoke of what a beautiful tree it gave promise to become. The little tree began to listen to those kindly remarks and when passersby forgot to notice it, it would become very dissatisfied and would think. ‘If I were only away from these rough old pines and rickety hillsides among prettier trees and flowers, how I would become admired! Then it would dream of how beautiful it would glow and of the great admiration it would receive. It became so busy with its dreams that it forgot to wave its branches, when the tall pines nodded to it, forgot to sway them gently when the little birds stopped to twitter their songs, and forgot to shelter the small flowers from the sun and rain. One day a young lady who was making a collection of plant3 and flowers for her garden, passed and saw the pretty tree. She said, How beautiful! I shall take it with me, and the little tree was very happy. She planted it in a beautiful garden, among many wonderful flowers and trees. The little tree was very much excited by all the wonderful beauty, and thought. How I shall be admired among all this!” But the day of visitors came. FIR TREE and as the many visitors passed they would exclaim: What a wonderful place,” or How beautiful it all is!” The little tree felt hurt and crushed and found itself beginning to notice and think of many things. It found, as the hot summer sun beat down, it missed the sheltering shadows of the rough old pines. It longed to whisper to the beautiful trees near by. but when it tried to be friendly, they only seemed to drop lower around them, their long trailing branches, and it thought of the trees on itt own mountain side, with their branches spread wide like open arms. It longed for one brief moment to turn away from the wild confusion of color in the many flowers around and thought of how bold it had thought the red bells and pink wild roses. It thought of the sweet, white mountain lilies, in all their stalely beauty, and could almost feel their beautiful perfumes in the air. It thought of the wee white flowers that came with the first breath of Spring, and the pale yellow Easter bells that were so sought by the small boy and girl. Day by day it found itself watching the changes in the sky and when the first white capped clouds began to gather and grow blacker, it could almost feel the first Summer Storm: could hear the loud peal of thunder as it rolled from one mountain side to another; could almost see the lig’.t- 28