South High School - Tiger Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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Some Ambitions Mv first ambition was a omunon one. To 1)c a king is an instinctive desire in one sense of the word: for there are very few who never have had that idea. Fairy tales read by most youngsters are alxmt kings, pretty maids, servants, gold and all such attractive things. Hut I have discarded this yearning for good because most kings, nowadays, are living killed, exiled or losing their thrones; and hv the time I am big enough to lx one. the kingdoms will have “vanished as if by some subtle magic and remain only in the dreams of the old monarchs. I discarded that for a seemingly more profitable line, that of trapping. A trapper's life appealed to me as a position for fighting Indians and big lx ars and saving lives of great men as portrayed in novels. Hut I soon found out alxmt its solitary life. W ithout seeing a human or hearing anything besides howls of animals. I would soon lx a “goner. And anyway (sour grapes) I guess there are no more animals to trap or men to save from lxars. That went out with kings when I heard of “rich businessmen” at big parties and in trips abroad, but when it came to trying out I found figuring a bugbear. Bookkeeping was. oh. so much fun that I loved it with anything handy to annihilate it with. Then. also, our neighbor, a business man. was always talking alxmt the long, tedious hours in the office. Then when High School came I thought I would try technical work, but my low marks and poor work showed me that I was not able to follow that line. So I’m still trying to find some vocation. Perhaps i'll be a judge and tell people to go to—jail. That looks easy. Mom hr Kf.u.y. Picking a Profession I n picking; a life profession, we are told, we should consider the character end of it. rather than the salary it draws. With this end in view you may select several promising professions. One is to liecome a great inventor like Kdison. In addition to the numerous royalties which would continually fatten your hank roll, you would have the pleasure of world-wide prominence. These, however, are not the greatest advantages. It is the knowledge that you are bringing something hitherto unknown into the homes of the masses, something to lighten their cares, which is the supreme factor in choosing that mode of work. Xext in line is the ambition to become a great story writer or novelist such as Sinclair Ix wis. Kdith Wharton and Booth Tarkingtmi. Here it is easy to see the advantages. They comprise three essentials: Influence, fame, and a big cash consideration. Following story writing comes newspajx r writing. The possibilities of this profession are practically the same as those of story writing, with the exception that newspaix-rs reach a greater nunibi-r of jx-ople. Sjiort editing i another choice profession. The salary here is also of large proixirtions. but the main reason for choosing it is my regard for sports of all kinds and the hope of being able to keep this regard burning in the minds of the younger generation who will be the stars of tomorrow. Herbert Muki.i,er. Page 2)

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He touched his cap to the heather. And he kissed her hand on his knee, And he wooed the gypsy maiden. The dusky, gypsy maiden. Under the grim, pine tree. And over the moors together. They wandered side by side. And when the stars were paling. The silver stars were paling. Like fairy limps were paling. He won her for his bride. When the sun rose at the dawning. Over the broken brown. A bluecoat hunter of England, A hardy hunter of England. With his three, hold sons of England, Came riding over the dawn. And they found the gypsy maiden. A heap in the sunrise red. With her black hair wrapped about her. Her long, jet locks about iter. Wrapped like a mantle about her. On a midnight shroud for the dead. In her arms lay a musty fiddle. A moldy skull by her side. Kor the phantom fiddler of Warwick. 'fhe heggar tiddler of Warwick. The ragged fiddler of Warwick. I lad won her for his bride. When the wind blows the perfume of roses I;rom many a cottage door, A strain of music comes floating. Over the moors comes floating. A liquid melody floating. Over the purple moor. And over the dawns together. Go wandering side by side. The phantom fiddler of Warwick. The ragged fiddler of Warwick. The wild, wierd. fiddler of Warwick. And his dusky, gypsy bride. Pnge 22

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 Opportunity By Jean Webb Rollington entered the home of Madam Rouen quietly. To be sure, most l ople who entered this palace of thick carpets and awe-inspiring portraits, at all. entered it quietly, hut there was something unusual in Rollington’s actions. In the first place, midnight is not the usual time for visiting: in the second place, welcome visitors were always ushered in in state. But Rollington was not a welcome guest at the Rouen mansion. In fact, he had been forced out of the house and into prison more than once. This accounted for the stealthy way iti which he grojied along, careful lest he arouse the household by some unnecessary noise. For Rollington was a member of the despicable class.—the class of thieves. Rollington stood for some time at the end of a hall. livery muscle was tense, iiach of his senses seemed to be strained to catch the slightest indication of danger. Rollington knew that, even in the sheltering dark of midnight, he was in great peril, for when one has escap'd from the hands of the law to the extent of three times, one is very daring to offend justice again. Rollington knew this, and he realized that, should he l e captured this time, he would never have another chance. Finally, his alert mind satisfied. Rollington crept cautiously down the hall. Opening a door at the left, he entered a room. Here, two splotches of gray designated windows. In this semi-darkness. Rollington was better able to proceed. Suddenly he stopjxjd. In his skilled mind, he felt the presence of another j)crson. Yes, a small white figure gro] ed its way toward him. Then a childish voice spoke. “Daddy, is that you?” Then the jjast grimly pointed an accusing linger at Rollington. and the daring man trembled. Like a flash there came to him the painful recollection of the tinv child whom he had left to the mercy of the pitying neighljors. while he wandered to all parts of the country, continually evading the upholders of the law. It was two months since he had last seen this fair little (laughter, so like her l eautiful mother who had left them alone in the world three years l cfore. “Daddy.” the little girl was saying. “Madam Rouen said you would l e here tonight, and that’s why she brought me here. She called up somelx dy and told him so. and she said she’d take care of me. The child prattled on. not knowing what this information meant to her father. She little suspected who it was that Madam Rouen had telephoned. But Rollington knew. He also knew that even now a band of men might l e pursuing him. How could he get away without telling his daughter? Of course she must not know. Rollington had always shielded his evils from her knowledge, and he dared not frighten her with startling revelations now. He stood there in a state of mental conflict. His love for his daughter forced him to keep his errand a secret, while his burglar’s instinct bade him go. What should he do? In this delay, however. Rollington lost all opjx rtunity to escape. His quick ear caught the sound of the opening of a door, and the heavy steps and low voices of men. It was too late now to consider evading his followers. Rollington drew his daughter to him. “Dear little Dorothea! he murmured, as he gave her a last kiss. Then a band of strong men. accompanied by a stately lady, entered the room. Dorothea screamed and clung to her father when she saw them, but she was finally taken away by Madam Rouen. The leader of the band of men turned to Rolling-ton. who was waiting expectantly. ■ .v - -W. . 3.V.. Pl»RC 24