South Hills High School - Lives Yearbook (Pittsburgh, PA)

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THE SESAME ' 11 . SMILE Did you ever stop to consider what this old world would be if we hadn't the power to smile? Do you know what a smile is? Well, a smile is a gift from God, it is the door to our souls which leads to happiness. Too many people leave this door closed. You say it is very easy to smile when you are happy but that it is hard to do when sad. True, but courage and perseverance will help you to smile through your sadness. Did you ever feel as though life was the most wonderful experience and while in this happy mood you met a friend who said this world with-all its hardshipswas unfair? Did you put yourself in his position and get at the bottom of his trouble and then discuss it with him? Did you show him his weak points and brighten his frowning face with an encouraging word and a smile? Or did you simply bid him the time and pass him by without lending a helping hand or a cheer- ful word? If you did pass him without encouraging him just imagine yourself being passed up by a friend in such a manner. Now be frank with yourself-wouldn't it have been more thoughtful to have helped him to see life in the way you saw it? You know yourself that life has many hardships and obstacles and that if we had a frown on our faces every time we had to meet one this world would not be very pleasant. Just let this thought enter your mind that God always sends enough rain in your life to make a beautiful rainbow after the shower. A smile is contagious. Remember the old maxim, Smile and the world smiles with you, weep and you weep alone. Helen Mae Barr, 12A. How many know of the wonderful fascina- tion and myste1'y of the snow-covered woods, the gaunt, bare trees bending and creaking in the cold, sharp wind that races along, toss- ing mists of snow into the air, the little tracks of some four-footed animal, that scur- ried away at the first signs of your approach, the bright green pine tree, suggestive of Christmas, the snappy, cold, keen air that makes the breath steam and smoke in dim frosty clouds about the head, the lonely stretch of white, with only the tracks of a small animal or rabbit? Who knows of the marvelous wonders of the cold, dismal forest of tall, leaiiess trees which nearly hide the heavy gray sky from sight, of the stinging force of the wind- driven crystals of snow-the ea1'th's most wonderful gift of beauty, of the long end- less stretch of pure white, dotted here and there with a dry brush heap or young pine tree, bright and green 3 the keen, chilling cold that penetrates the clothing and chills the bone to the marrow. In the coldest and keenest of mornings what is more delightful than to bundle up in a heavy fur coat, mittens and cap and walk through the snowdrifts under the trees to get the sleepiness out of one's eye, or the stiffness out of one's limbs, to walk exhilar- ated through the woods when the cold nips the nose, makes the cheeks red and the lips blue, stings the ears, tingles the blood and freezes the breath around the mouth, form- ing frosty little icicles on the lips and chin? The cold woods is still and grey in the early morning, only broken now and then by the moaning of the rising wind as it rushes through the gaunt, skeleton trees. Some- times, on the charred remains of a stump some little animal eats a nut from his store- house or plays about. He frisks and runs about tossing the snow into the air with his heels, and leaving queer 'little marks upon the snow. But soon he is off 5 perhaps he has sensed a human presence and was afraid. He chatters angrily from a nearby tree, scolding at being disturbed in his morning frolic. Still, except for a few rabbits or squirrels the place is lonely and silent and does not show much life. A bird screams harshly once or twice and is off g a rabbit bounces across your path, or a squirrel chatters from a tree, but a heavy silence seems to cover everything. It is bitterly cold and the snow is driven more sharply into the face. The clouds grow dark and heavy. The wind rises and moans through the trees. The snow swirls and sweeps unpleasantly. It becomes colder. The snow swirls harder around the tired Walker. He starts for home, knowing that the coming storm is dangerous. But the storm overtakes him. He falls g he is too tired to get up. He can go no further. He is utterly worn out. Then, yes, his home-a large cabin not far from him. He MUST get there. Staggering to his feet he lurches across the open space and opens the door of the cabin. He is saved, but the winter woods has lost much of its charm for him. Wm. H. Bergheiner, Jr.

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10 THE SESAME , lead expressed Black J ack's feelings on writing, he looked once at the rope, realized that if the bartender pulled it not a man in the town would be able to sign his name in the next world, and said as much. However, un- complimentary remarks were passed his way and with them a few beer bottles. That night benevolent citizens amused themselves by dropping lighted boards on his shanty, but with his Bible he retired to a nearby wood, only to return the next night, and under the protection of his former bene- faitors, mounted his keg and started with Jo . Misery showed itself in the face of every listener, and a number took an unusually large amount of stimulant in an effort to drown the voice, but found that in this case they were not even able to think about their card games, which of course gave them only one other thing to think about and thus tend- ed to make matters worse. Eventually they consented to try their luck with the small instrument which has been termed greater than the sword. So they were taken, several each evening, and surprising as it may seem, interest soon became rife as to who could most readily distinguish an i from an e, and who could most capably write his own signature and correctly punctuate it. This interest soon grew to such propor- tions that the undertaker began to sense good days coming back again, but he was doomed to disappointment for the Parson had arranged a little contest wherein each man was to write his name tif he knew it, the correct one, if not, one of his own choicej on a sheet of paper and then he, the Parson, had promised to award that man doing this the best bottle of a certain amber fluid which he promised them would be in the nature of an expensive gift. Finally the night arrived. It had been con- veniently arranged for Saturday when they all collected their dust, earned by blasting hills or strangers' heads and deposited it in the small safe at the saloon, when they were thus placed in the best humor, and least likely to shoot the fortunate winner of the prize. At the last minute, as a final precau- tion, so to speak, the Parson decided that any man who wished to write must leave his gun outside the door, and readily agreeing to this request every man, save the two ruf- fians who had gone off on a prospecting ex- pedition, entered. A long sheet of paper with a goodly margin at the top was passed around, and although some labored under the difficulty of having to use tobacco juice as ink, every name was duly and proudly at- tached. Finally the document reached the Parson. He looked it completely over, and suddenly whipped out two guns! Boys, he g1'inned, 1 reckon I took you- all in. l'm not a preacher. I'm a patent med- icine salesman. Sell Maloney's Marvelous Mixture, an amber liquid. It'll cure anything from downright drunkness to auto-intoxica- tion. Heard how you treated your last doc- tor and thought you might need some. Had to get your -signatures to an agreement to buy it. l have them and each one of you will receive thirty-six bottles. And by the way, in case you wouldn't have liked to pay for it my two comrades have relieved you of the gold in the safe! With this he backed to the door where he was joined by the other two, and disap- peared. High Hat literally blew up. The medicine arrived and most of it was thrown into the creek, but some drank part of theirs to get their money's worth. David Rankin. ,,,,, ...'.g. - P PITTSBURGH ? Where the waters of two rivers Join to make a shining third, Stands a city, great and mighty, Whose voice o'er the world is heard. Girded by the Alleghenies, Hemmed by powerful mills and inarts, Pittsburgh stands, in power triumphant, Honored in her children's hearts. Great she is 5 industrial greatness Spreads her fame o'er all the land From the Gulf to the Pacific Where men work with brain or hand. Let her fame be undiminished, O'er the land and o'er the sea, Great she is, but even g1'62It91' In the future can she be. - Let us, children of great Pittsburgh, Keep her fame forever bright, See that she becomes a leader In the onward march for right. Mildred Grayburn, 12-B.

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12 g E gf THE SESAME SOMETHING'S ROTTEN IN' DENMARK It was a stormy night. Rain, lightning and loud peals of thunder rent the atmo- sphere. I was visiting my aunt and uncle who lived in one of those ancient historical castles in Denmark. A castle with long winding staircases, winding through dark and gloomy towers, with dark and massive pillars which held up the very high ceilings. It was on this evening and in this castle that I was left alone with my Aunt Janette, an invalid. My uncle, a peculiar man, had gone to Copenhagen on very important busi- ness. The servants had all gone out, except for a very old sewing woman, who waited on my aunt. As the twilight faded I sat in a massive chair in front of the huge fire place in the library and dreamed of knights and romance. The castle was in deep silence, except for the sound of pattering rain on the windows, and an occasional peal of thunder that penetrated the thick walls of the castle. As I gazed into the fire I began to think of my ancestors, and how, maybe on such a night as this they fought to save the castle and their lady loves, and of dark plots and mystery. How still everything was. If only I could talk to Aunt Janette, but then she was sleep- ing in her room which was in the left wing of the castle. The fire began to go out and the glowing embers and tall candles gave very little light. The silence was unbearable. I just had to have some one with me. Yes, I'd go and talk to the old servant, but there was a long dark hall through which I should have to go, in order to reach the left wing. So I decided it was better to stay in the library. My mind began to turn to Poe's gruesome tales. Oh, why did I shudder so at the dark- ness. I wished something would break the tension. . What was that I heard ? I was sure it was someone moaning, someone in distress. I walked slowly toward the great door which led to several chambers under the castle. Yes, the noise was coming from the chambers be- low. Oh, why did Poe ever write such mys- terious stories. Furtively I opened the door and again heard the moan so much plainer. Some- thing's rotten in Denmark kept ringing in my head. My teeth began to chatter. Suddenly there was a loud crash, and some- thing huge and black rushed past me and huddled in a corner of the room. I screamed once and then stood petrified to the spot, staring wildly at the hideous black creature. The old servant, having heard my cry, came running, asking me over and over what caused my fright. I could not answer. I could only stare and point at the creature. I expected the woman to recoil in terror when she saw it, but, to my surprise and re- lief she, laughed, and between gasps for breath said: I knew that cat would break loose. He has to be tied because he is so wild. After I drank a cup of hot tea I felt bet- ter, but ever since I had that experience, I always manage to have someone with me on stormy nights. Amelia Wheeler, 11-A. NEW YEARS Sad and weary, passeEhe old year, Some it brought j oy, others a tear, Behind, it has left a strewn path A broken promise, vicious wrath. At its beginning we did make, Promises, that soon we did break. But as goes the old old tale, Try again if once you fail.- Some were faithful to the last, Others failed ere a week went past. Some were true for a month or two But now the ranks were growing few. The new year it has come at last The old will soon be dark dim past. Now we will make promises anew Broken ones we hope will be few. Should any of you have failed last year, Try again and do never fear You are forgiven, so try anew. The New Year has come for me and for you. John B. Root, '22.