Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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P. H. S. ENTERPRISE ’08. sey? Well, now it’s wurth a month’s pay just to see her movin’ as graceful and aisv loike as a swan an’ makin’ such beautiful writin’ that ye want to frame every page that she throws into the waste basket. An’ she can read it, too, Mr. Hinnessey, and so can I an’ so can her mither. Now whin I write a letter an’ ferget to mail it I hev to write another fur fear that I’ve found the wrong one. I can most ginerally read what I write if I use short sentences an’ don ' t lave it too long so that I fergit what I was writin’ about. But me darter can read ivery- thing as aisy as if it was her spellin’ book, M?r. Hinnessey. And I haven’t a doubt but that some day some teacher will inviru some method by which we can write a long letter without touchin’ our hands to a pin at all, Mr. Hinnessey, and then it will be as aisy to write a letter as to shleep on yure beat. An’ when that day comes, Mr. Hin¬ nessey, I’ll take a post graduate course in pinmanship an’ be in paradise the rest uv me days.” din the (Elass nf ’flB You have studied with much application P The words, deeds, thoughts of the past. Let me add to your sound information These thoughts, the best and the last. Let the hope of a brighter to-morrow Dispel the gloom of today. But beware that you never do borrow The things that darken your way. Do not hunger for life’s fleeting pleasures, They die; are vain like a dream. Rather search for the spiritual treasures, They live and are what they seem. Go in quest of the highest ideal. With eyes fixed firm on the goal. Rise above what is sordidly real With all the might of your soul. ) Never weary of doing your duty. Make work the joy of your life, ’Tis the secret of health a of beaut Gives peace ’midst tumult and strife. To the idle, the vain, and the haughty This world is barren of ioy. Like the school to the indolent, naughty, Refractory girl or boy. For the busy, the modest, the humble The best of life is in store. They may climb and rise high or may stumble, But bliss is theirs evermore. On the mountains, in forest and grotto, Throughout your beautiful state Write “Excelsior” as the class motto Of nineteen hundred and eight. May good fortune be with you and soften The thorny path to success. May you prosper, be happy, and often Remember your P. H. S. —MARTIN SINGER, — 20 —

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Mt. Snnlnj ©it (Ci ' rtatu Srlinnl Ailiintu ' s ND how are ye this beautiful mornin’, Mr. Hinnessey?” said Mr. Dooley, on the first morn¬ ing that the sun had appear¬ ed after three weeks of rain. “Don’t this weather remind ye of the days in old Oireland, Mr. Hinnessey, and don’t it make ye think at toimes that some unkoind creature was after ye and makin’ it hot fur yer sinful self?” “Well, now, I hadn’t been lookin’ at it in that way,” said Mr. Hinnessey, “fur ye see this is the first toime that I’ve had the op- purchoonity to git me money’s wurth out uv me new rain coat what I got at the big fire sale. But, say, Mr. Dooley, what is the rason that yure so blue like this mornin’? Is it the grippe that ye’ve got, ur hev ye been disappointed about yure ile stock, Mr. Dooley?” “Come now, Mt . Hinnessey, yure a bit frivvulus this mornin’. Haven’t you heard about their doings up at the High School this 3 r ear?” “Well, I’ve heard a good deal about the way they were runnin’ things up there and I thought everybody was satisfied, fur from what I can learn things are in pretty foine shape now.” “Why, Mr. Hinnessey, I guess ye don’t get yure evenin’ paper reg’lar, fur if ye did yud find out about their doings up there, Mr. Hinnessey. Oh, it’s a long story, Mr. Hin¬ nessey, and I can’t tell ye all about it.” “But, Mr. Dooley, I hear that the boys have won four games uv Basket Ball,” said Mr. Hinnessey, “anl they could hev won an¬ other one but they couldn’t shoot the goals, whatever the creechers are, Mr. Dooley.” “That’s just the pint, Mr. Hinnessey, just the pint. Now I want to know what they’re allowing cur boys to shoot goals fur, and that inside the city limits. Do they want to haul us fathers before the pulice court and make us pay jist as though they had caug ' us ridin’ on the sidewalk down the Liberty street hill? And they’re even teachin’ our modest little girls to shoot the goals, Mr. Hinnessey. Why just last night me darter came home in glee, Mr. Hinnessey. and said Father, I shot three goals straight to¬ day.’ And what did ye shoot them fur?” says I. And she says, ‘Oh, just for fun. Everybody is thrving it now she says. ‘It’s great sport, too, father, and there’s no clos¬ ed season for goals, you can shoot thim enny time says she.” “Well, now, I hadn’t heard about it at all,” said Mr. Hennessey. “What else are they doin’ to advance the ghreat cause of edjucashun, Mr. Dooley?” “They’re havin’ some special classes in writin’ ur pinmanship, ur whativer they call it, Mr. Hinnessey, and are thryin’ to get the youngsters to forsake the gude old meth¬ ods of their fathers. Why, just the other day me darter came in an’ asked me fur a nickle fur to buy a cork penholder. Now there I’ve been tyin’ me pen to the end uv me pencil all these years wheniver I wanted to write a letter to me old mother across the waters, Mr. Hinnessey, but when she said it was a cork penholder that she want¬ ed I couldn’t say no, fur it rayminded. me uv me native city in old Oireland. Yes, she got the nickle, but not fur the cause, Mr. Hinnessey, but because she had touched me heart strings and I couldn’t go back on me old home. And then, sir, that night she came home with some nice yellow paper and said she must practice a little on her pin¬ manship, and asked me would I jine in an’ enjoy mesilf, too. Well, sir, she says to me, ‘Now first you must get a good position, father.’ ‘Faith,’ says I, ‘and ain’t a got a good position? I’ve been on th’ pulice force for the last six years, ‘sez I, ‘would you ex¬ pect me to an atturney fur th’ grafters?’ sez I. But she sez, ‘Now father, ye mustn’t be so frivvulus, fur it’s leamin’ to write ye are’, sez she. ‘Now you must git both uv yure feet flat on the flure,’ sez she, and I laid thim both down with a gintleness that made th’ pictures rattle on th’ walls, and she said I was now ready to write. And then, would ye belave me, Mr. Hinnessey, she tuk me by the arm and in a few minutes she had me makin’ circles so purty and so aisy loike that I could make thim with me eyes shut.” “And can yure darter write, Mr. Dooley?” “Can she write, did ye ask, Mr. Hinues-

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ullje Bottknj attft % Iray NE evening not long ago I en¬ tered the house in a rather surly mood. I had had a quarrel with a certain young lady of my affections and a trouble of this kind is extremely bad for the temper of a youth of eighteen years. I was grumbling away to myself on the wrongs of injured lovers, when my old uncle who sat near by looked up with a kindly twinkle in his eye and said, “Pooh, Charles, you ought to consider yourself lucky in these days! 3f you had to endure what I did when I was young you might complain of difficulties. Let me give you one night’s experience, my lad, and see if you don’t agree with me.” “As you know I was raised on a farm in southernEngland, four miles from the near¬ est village, and it was in this village that my heart chose to select the object of its affections in the person of the charming Minnie Bray. Now, the road from our house to the village was not the pleasantest to travel, especially at night. The road cross¬ ed an old goss moor, and at this point the hedges grew so high that they all but met overhead shutting out most of the light. The shadows on either side were deep and grue¬ some, and what I suffered while traversing this piece of road, might have softened Minnie’s heart had she known it. “On the evening of which I am to tell you, I started out as usual, and reached without mishap the fatal spot of my fears. The night was pitch dark and as I entered the stretch of deeper darkness, I felt the famil¬ iar chill go up and down my spinal column. Imagine my horror, when, just as I had pass¬ ed half way through, I heard arising from the shadows, whose darkness I could not pierce, a most weird and unearthly sound. My hair began to rise and continued to rise as I proceeded, for this sound was repeated not once but a dozen times, first from one side and then from the other. To say I was frightened would be putting it mildly, for this far exceeded all my former experiences. Making a break toward the brighter light ahead I ran at my utmost speed until want of breath compelled me to stop. My blood ran cold at the thought of returning, for this road was the only possible route home. Pleasanter thoughts of meeting Minnie served to partly drive the unpleasant mem¬ ories from my mind. Imagine my feeling when upon knocking at her door, I was informed that ‘Miss Minnie was not at home, having been taken out to spend the evening by George Amesbury.’ With a groan I thought of all I had passed through and contemplated murder or suicide. I spent most of the evening wandering about the village, and finally set out for home, shud¬ dering at the idea of a repetition of my form¬ er experience. “All went well until I reached that hate¬ ful spot. My fears were somewhat allayed for no sounds were to be heard as I ap¬ proached and traversed its shadowy depths. I was just congratulating myself on escaping further terrors when a dark mass, darker than the darkness around, rose up before me. As my heart reached the half-way mark between its usual position and my throat it suddenly dropped back with a thump, for the familiar bray of a wild don¬ key issued forth from the shapeless mass. This sound reassured me, for donkeys were common enough in that country, many of them running wild on the moor. “The animal seemed to realize that fear had possessed me, and as if in derision he gave himself over to making melodies loud enough to be heard to the furthest corner of the moor. His companions joined him, and then arose a chorus of unmusical noises such as I hope I shall never hear again. This symphony proved to be the signal for a rush down the dark lane, and a herd of braying donkeys swept by me in a mad run an d sped away to the pasture land beyond. How they managed to pass me without once giving me a friendly kick, as is the habit with these animals, will remain a mystery forever, for the lane w as narrow and the night dark. “But this is not the strangest part of my story. The donkey which first greeted me remained in his place. He gave a farewell screech at his fleeing companions and then approached me with the air of an old friend. “Thinking this donkey had been providen-