Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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— P. H. S. Water Lilies By Gertrude Gresham Deep within the dark, green marshes, Close upon the water’s brim Grow the lilies, snow white lilies, Choicest flower made by Him. In their verdant, cup-like sepals, Heart-shaped petals open wide, Each one smaller than the other As if something they must hide. If you were to gently open Each white bloom so wondrous fair, Would you be surprised to find A tiny fairy hidden there? o Almost a Crash By Theodore James XCITEMENT reigned high in Williamsport. The First National Bank was the victim of a malicious rumor. Williamsport was a city with a population of 18,000 people of which 15,000 were gossips. The bank was due to open its doors at 8:30 A. M. A line of some of the bank’s depositors (approximately 5,000), extended from the bank’s doors five blocks down Main Street. In Williams- port practically everybody banked at the First National. The person who started this gossip had done his work well. As soon as Mr. Hart arrived, he immediately went to the office of his cashier, Donald Franklin. Mr. Hart had been pres- ident of the First National for twelve years. He sank into a chair looking like a man about to die. “What shall we do? What ever under the sun shall we do? We’re ruined .... absolutely ruined, I tell you. I know and you know the bank is O. K., but those money-mad fools outside don’t know it. As I understand it, we have money enough in our vaults to pay less than half of our depositors.” Young Franklin was worried, but he tried not to show it. “Mr. Hart, why not leave the doors closed until after you have had time to call a meetings of the directors?” Page twenty-five . . . .

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“ The Jylissile Sea Gulls By John Prichard REMEMBER them flocking about the docks before the departure of the ship, flying diagnonally, zig-zig, and every other conceivable way. They made peculiar cracked sounds while searching for their food around the hull. Colored like the spray, some with a dash of blue, others as gray as the beard of an old mariner, the gulls would rest on the water until their breath required they move off in some other direction. They follow the ship, leaving the port, and cling in its wake far out to sea, relentless, pursuing, the thought of food upper- most in their minds. If the prey is a large passenger liner they will hover to her across the Atlantic to Liverpool, or along the shores of our continent to Panama, there to be joined by others of their kind ... all in the search of food. On studying one from close range I noticed in his eyes a peculiar expression as if vexed by his surroundings. Was he not better than any of his mates or those foolish beings who stood upon the decks of his prey, now and then casting him a sidelong glance? His eyes hold the secret of many sea trage- dies not written in the annals of the nations. Locked in this bird’s heart, perhaps, is the tale of the fate of Nungesser and Coli and others victim to that same dreadful end. Everything a gull can say is bound to a hoarse croak emanating from his smooth beak like a warning. Is it true, as the old sea legend runs, that he is the spirit of an old mariner preferring the sea to paradise? The gull’s whole life is anchored to a scrambling for food. The more food the wealthier he is. Is his life so much unlike the wealth-drunk financial magnates of our large cities? Neither is content with sufficient or over-sufficient means. They must have more and more. So from the ends of the earth the gulls come and go ... . all in the quest of food. Page twenty-four

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“ The JVlissile “Anything, anything at all to save us from ruin.” The directors had been in conference for twenty minutes, and they had reached no sensible decision. They were all la- boring under the disadvantage of being greatly excited. Finally Mr. Warren, the oldest member of the board of directors, got up and said, “We’re doing ourselves more harm than good sitting here arguing. Hart, why don’t you go out and talk to them? You’re well known and liked by almost every- one in town ; they may listen to you.” “I don’t believe it will do any good, but I’ll try anything once,” was Hart’s discouraging reply. By this time the line outside the bank had developed into a mob gathered in front of the bank and extending across the street and blocking all traffic for the time being. Mr. Hart’s appearance at the door was greeted by jeers and cries of, “Why don’t you open up? We want our money!” “Friends, you all know me. I think you all know I am an honest man. You have all trusted me in the past, so why not trust me now? I want to assure you that your money is abso- lutely safe. The rumor that the bank was unsafe was started by some enemy of this bank, and he is being sought by the police now. If he is caught this man will serve a sentence in the state penitentiary. I want to ask you as your friend please to go about your business and not take any part in trying to cause the downfall of a perfectly safe bank.” “Cut the gab, we want our money. Talk is cheap, but it doesn’t give us our money.” These cries coming from all over the crowd sent Mr. Hart into the shelter of the bank building. Donald Franklin, silent during the directors’ conference, now offered a suggestion. “Let’s open up and maybe if they see that we’re paying off they may withdraw in time to save us from ruin. We can give the tellers instructions to stall for time.” “I for one am in favor of this,” said Mr. Warren. “You can count me in,” chimed in Mr. Hart. Each member of the board of directors agreed to give the cashier’s scheme a trial. Page twenty-six