Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

Page 22 text:

P. H. S. ENTERPRISE ’ll desk he asked for and received a half doz¬ en matches. He would now consult his meerschaum for the last time. He re¬ membered a park not far away, with little odd nooks and corners, and thither he went. A retired spot, a couple of enjoyable smokes, and then the eternal rest. He smiled in anticipation. Utton sat for several minutes inhaling lungfuls of smoke. Then a robin alight¬ ed on the hard gravel path near him and began hunting for worms. Utton almost laughed aloud. The idea of the robin hunting worms on a gravel path in the heart of New York was sufficient to make even a man in Utton’s frame of mind smile. And such a specimen of a robiu! It was blind in one eye. Its tail feathers were partly gone. Its plumage was in a deplorable state. After looking at it for a couple of minute , Utton saw that two of its toes were missing. He caught himself thinking w r hat forlorn birds robins were judgin g all from this one. After perhaps 10 minutes futile search for worms, the rob¬ in shook its feathers, looked around, cock- its one good eye heavenwards, and broke into a cheerful chirping, its heart seem¬ ingly as glad as if it had been feeding up¬ on the most delicious of grubs. Then it was that something snapped in Utton’s brain, and a flood of ideas raced through his mind. Was he less brave than the robin? Simply because he was out of luck should hegive up? Was his search for employment less fruitful than the rob¬ in’s search for its meal on a New York gravel sidewalk? Say! Could he afford to face Providence? What did Utton do? Why, he resolved to try again, and succeeded and in later years he often thought of the robin and the lesson that it taught him, the old, old lesson of “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” L. B. Petaluma (Petaluma is the Indian w ' ord for little hills.) G land of little hills, the day Broods bright above; cloud shadows play With sunlight ’neath your tender skies; We w atch them with unnoting eyes, Heeding the things of every day. Is it because you smile alway, Living beneath your gentle sway Your beauties we so lightly prize, O land of little hills? When time has led our steps away I wonder if our thoughts will stray From sterner hours and harsher skies To wander with the spirit’s eyes. Where sunlight and cloud shadows play Among the little hill.?. E. E. 20

Page 21 text:

THE SUICIDE T TON had resolved to die. He had pondered the matter long and carefully and deliber¬ ately arrived at the con¬ clusion that there was no longer sufficient rea¬ son for him to live. He had been out of work for five months, and, because he had never saved carefully, and also, because he had never received a great deal of money which could be saved, he was at the end of his funds. He had exactly five dollars, which would be sufficient to buy a good revolver and a box of shells, and after that—. He shrugged his shoulders. He would look again into the matter. Such a thing should not be done without the utmost attention being given to the pros and cons. Utton counted his money again. Just five dollars, enough to buy—. By a strong effort he concentrated his mind. His nerves were not as firm as they might be. He took a piece of paper from his pocket, upon which were written the names of the various firms which he had visited seeking employment, in the lost two months. Not one of them had oftered any hope of a position. There were so many bookkeepers in the world. He wondered if there were any besides himself who had only the price of a good revolver. He drew a deep breath. He must not become morbid. Committing suicide was a business matter as much as anything else and must be regarded in the same unim¬ passioned light. He rattled the loose change in his pocket. He was hungry. Perhaps there was enough to get him a good meal, still leaving the price of a good revolver; after that it wouldn’t mat¬ ter. It cost nothing to visit the morgue. Yes, he would have dinner before he died. He might as well satisfy his hunger for the last time. He h a d a notion that he could shoot straighter if he were not hungry. Utton took his hat from its nail, men paused. He would take a farewell look at his room. He had not fully decid¬ ed whether he would come back to his room to die, or go somewhere else. At any rate he would bid it goodbye. How sordid the room was! He did not under¬ stand how he had stood its squalor so long. The scarred furniture, the grimy unpapered walls, the little wood stove, that always smoked when troubled by a fire, the curtainless windows, what man could respect himself amid such surround¬ ings, when added thereto were the pangs of hunger and the monotony of idle exist¬ ence? Then his eye fell on his pipe, and he thought of better days, when he had bought it. It was a genuine meerschaum and he put it tenderly into his pock-et. Perhaps he would have enough to buy a little tobacco. He would see. He closed the door, no need to lock it. What should he do first? The revolver, that must be procured before all else. He went down the street and turned into a store. A very good weapon could be had for three dollars. He discussed the mer¬ its of black and smokeless powders with the salesman and decided on the lat¬ ter as being less noisy and of greater force. He put his purchases into his pocket and held them there tightly, gleefully. The tobacco dealer’s was next. Here an ounce of Peco-Laun was gotten and put into an¬ other pocket. Now for the dinner. He went to a retired little restaurant which he had known in his better days, and back into his favorite corner. He leisurely read the menu and ordered the things he liked best. After looking at his check he found that he still had some change, and with this he tipped the waiter. At the 19

Page 23 text:

THE GIRL FROM TEXAS HE rickety old stage clattered down the hill and drew up in front of the typical mountain tavern, with its wide veranda, partly covered vvit.h vines, and a few s immer visitors seated on it, waiting for the mail. The driver leaped from his seat, but be¬ fore he could reach tue door of the coach, it was opened and a young girl, apparent¬ ly about sixteen years of age, with red hair braided in a thick braid down her back, jumped out. Her hat drooped, so those on the porch could not see her face, and she quickly turned to assist an elder¬ ly lady from the stage, paying no atten¬ tion to the driver, who stood beside her. The group on the porch was interested, for there had been no newcomers for two weeks, and a young girl would add new life and spirit to the party. As the two approached the veranda, the landlady appeared at the door and welcomed them in. As they walked up the steps, we, for I was among the party on the porch, caught a glimpse of the girl’s face. She was rather pretty, had a small face and dark eyes. Just after she had gone in the door a young man said “Fire,” in a low voice. Immediately the girl appeared at the ■door, her eyes flashing and said, “You—.” From inside we heard, “Come Molly,” and she turned quickly from the doorway and ran upstairs. One thing was settled; her name was Molly. Something else was started, but not settled; that was her character. Although no one said anything, every¬ one was anxiously awaiting the dinner horn; anxious because we wanted to see the newcomers again, and see if the girl would finish her sentence. The horn blew in time and it was not long before everyone was seated at the table, with the exception of the late ar¬ rivals. They were soon heard coming down the stairs and the impertinent Mr. Brown, looked rather worried. The two were in¬ troduced to us as Mrs. Norton and Miss Molly Cannon. They were assigned their seats, Molly having one directly opposite young Brown. As they took their seats Molly flashed a look of scorn at the young man across from her and he looked great¬ ly embarassed. A conversation was soon started and all felt perfectly at east. We learned that Molly was Mrs. Norton’s niece and that their home was in Texas. Molly livened the conversation with bits of humor or funny incidents, and the meal was spent pleasantly for all but one, for whenever young Brown tried to say something he became so flustrated by Molly’s scornful looks, that he would stop. After the meal, all adjourned to the parlor and Miss Molly was asked to play. She consented and Brown stepped forward to open the piano. Like a flash Molly was past him and at the piano, and opened it herself. The young man was certainly nonplussed, but no one felt sorry for him, for he had been rude that afternoon. Molly sat down to the piano looking very angry and struck a loud chord. She started playing loudly and ner aunt look¬ ed nervous. Gradually, however, her playing uecame softer and finally she was playing with much expression. During the evening, we planned to take a ride the next day, for the hotel was well supplied with good riding horses. Our new friends were very enthusiastic and claimed to be good riders. Molly proved 21