Western High School - Westward Ho Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

Text from Pages 1 - 58 of the 1918 volume:

3 1 x :QC 0 N 1 fl wk- A 0, va W iw-L . S 1 v Q. s4Q'.d4I Cagifivlw,-- Q? U3 ESTUQARD H01 Z' wx H 1 6,0 - af wo an ll-I 1 o L Q Wvlillrw :Z 3, 5 f, U fl 1? 2 i n 1 W' L Q.-X o 'Q E Y' March, 1926 UOLUHIE Xl Q wKbQlhe ,A WESTWARD I-IO FT ER HIGH SCHOOL HAT. This is a most important questiong and on your answer to this question may depend your success or failure. I..et us tell you how to make your summer worth from S200 to 5300, which will be a start toward your future SUCCESS. Summer School for Teachers and for young men and young Women who cannot attend the Winter term. Personal instruction. Students may enter at any time. If you wish to teach Commercial Subjects or to become a first-class Secretary, Stenographer or Bookkeeper, attend the Baltimore Business Col- lege and learn Gregg Shorthand and Modern Illustrative Bookkeeping, and your success will he assured. IT PAYS To Attend A GOOD SCHOOIL because your services will be valued and you will be judged lay the character and the standing of the school from which you graduate. Day and Night School Open All the Year. Individual Instruction COURSES OFFERED Stenographic English Bookkeeping Junior Secretarial Civil Service Accounting Senior Secretarial Teacher 'Training ,- Business Administration Let us help you to decide on the course of study hest Etted to your particular needs. The Secret of Higher Salaries The secret of higher salaries is no secret at all. You can earn almost any salary you wish-provided you do not stop with wishing. Here is the secret If you would EARN more you must be YVORTH more. If you would GET more you must GIVE more. Your salary-your success-will be exactly in proportion to your worth-your mrtiiciency. If you Want to increase your income, you must increase your efticiency. There is no other way. VVe can give you the same help and the same start We have given thousands of others. And you can attain the same heights if you will make the same start. WVi11 you make that start NOW? Call, Write or phone PLaza 1241. E. H. NORMAN, President xv, l X , . f!,,,f,, yppffgy Catalogue Free-Ask for One, Baltimore and Light Sts., Baltimore, Md. sit! Vx l I f f 1 Z-Ml Q 'QW ff 5 4 A 55-4 M '45 7 4 fllls IIIII W S- Once Upon Time 5 L 1 f 'I V. It-1 , f 4 4 f ' .- Q. Y' rr .3 1- 12271: ,li 1 -. -4 ' -f 1 3 -1 . .f br'f,'Q'i il ' . , ' .4 A ' lg. s'i3TMQQ?' '- -' 44-, ' w -'T X i 'll 'ril . ' :ti ll 1 f f 1 1 .1 ll e L 2,7 'Y 'A Ai I ' T- V l 5 r I llfll I, V f N fy I 'f Alf ff 44 V X . . .1 in L .ff N. X F' V l . ' A ' ku' 5 .. f x I CONTENTS Page On Being Photographed--Esther Baitz, '21-i.. 5 ln the Daisied Hollow-Mary Elizabeth Sweeney ............. . . . . . 7 Under False Ciolors-E. Bowling, '26, . . . . 8 At Dawning-Poem-Nl. L. Zschiesche, '28, . 14 My Pirate-Bernice Frank, '27 .... . . . . . 17 Land of My lleartys Desire---C. Fagex, '28. . . 17 First Things First-M. Morvitz, '26. . . ,. 18 On VVith the Dance-E.. Matthews, '27 ....... 21 Cobwebs-C. Shaw, '26 A Day's Angling-C. Harn, '25, .. Clocks-L. Bagwell, '27. . . Excuses--G. Cook, '27 .... . .. Aurora-Poem-E. Bowling, '26. . . ...23 ...28 ...30 ...31 ...32 Always George-E. Sollers, '27 .... Thellnxnchroom-E.. Baitz. '25 .... Oul' Girls-E.. Sollers, '27 ....,.... . . . Land of My l'leart's Desire- H. Ashman, '28. Editorial . Alumnae News . . . . Western World . . . . Club Notes . . Assemblies . Senior Sallies . Exchanges Athletics . Short Cuts to Literary Fame. . . Page . 34 . 36 . 37 . 37 . 38 . 39 . 40 . 40 . 41 . 42 . 44 .44 .46 N X - x E' g - I ,I A H X Hu CA W- , ,V X-, fi 'JH V ,f f 1'2,,ff'f 41-f'm,.f4fff:f:'z'? 1, f M' '73 dz ,, I in yffif' , 3 7 A 7 i j'fAf'j---i F f av ff X: J g K xy Q ' Jiisigiigiili- 1 1 f Q 4 Q X V N! 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' .1 .-1 9 I P: g , Q . ,frvgfgvlw ..wv:!Egf:'--111::w1..,2T?7 -2 .1!15..1--2-11::12rrH4 - - 1 'Wa- V -1'-' ? 5 iS 'ggggfga5zgf,e V4 Q':.phL1-24615522 2? 5 EE f ' 3 , lfff kinff v 5 1 . M., ..... ? - f v i?5:l:?2 ' A71 . 'fx f' ,J-1 .-f. -X f - M ... f 7 ' LX f 'X , f2f4Q ff - , A'A qi: Mfg? , 4' 4 Yi ff 'i - 5733 rfip Q344 g ,,,53:,i4g v i ii 1 745 A A P On Being Photographed EsTHER BAITZ, '26. 'ONIT people go to war , some peop e l people have teeth pulled out with I out an anaesthetic while still oth :Ll ers haxe their pictures taken. By - - -' pictures, I do not mean snapshots or time exposures, or any little three by four pa- per likeness produced with the aid of a small box- like contrivance that can easily be carried from place to place with your little finger. I mean real photographs taken by an honest-to-goodness photographer, and of such a size and clearness as to have a very forcible effect upon youg pic- tures, above all, which are to go into the Senior number of the school magazine, that number which is handed down to posterity. If you do not agree that the trial of having such a picture taken could reasonably be compared with the other ordeals mentioned above you may apply to any one of the three hundred and some Seniors who have recently gone through the harrowing experience. Her reports will readily convince you that I am not at all guilty of any charges of exaggeration. In fact, you will see that I might have gone even further in my analogy. llut I shall let the matter rest as it is and at- tempt to prove to you the truth of what I have already said. .....-. ....... A L , . - - 1 1 v - p gs. g l undergo serious operations, other ?1r::,'s ' f - i 1 i ' ' 7 The fun begins, as any good Vklesternite would put it, about two weeks before the day appointed for the taking! of your pictures. The first consideration is coiffure. If you would like to have your golden locks falling into soft rip- pling waves on your photograph, you must begin at this -early date to contemplate a f'marcel. Above all, the waves must look natural, and two weeks is a good amount of time to allow for their acquiring this effect. If you are letting your hair grow, and it has now reached what some poor un- fortunates who are affected with the unhappy condition term Hthe ugly length. you must now begin to spend twice as much time as usual before the mirror. It is necessary that you expend a great amount of energy in training your hair so that straggling ends will not come peeping forth from all directions on this occasion. 'iOh, I do hope I can make my hair look respectable by that time, is a familiar expression heard in hrst-floor cloak-rooms during these picture-tak- ing days, and everybody knows without any ex- planation that by that time, refers to the day when the distressed individual, responsible for the outburst, is being photographed. The next consideration is getting rid of all the skin blemishes 'that seem to have waited until this particular time to put in their appear- ance. Vvhat cries of woe issue forth from maidens whose lips are copiously bedecked with fever blisters. or whose cheeks harbor those monstrosities-pimplesl Now hot water, salves, and antiseptics are brought into play, and in some cases doctors are even consulted to remove the offending disfigurements. Then you must begin to decide what sort of an expression you will wear when your pic- ture is taken. Movie magazies, true story magazines, newspapers, new and old, are all carefully pored over for pictures of movie stars or famous beauties, whose expressions are interesting. lVith the favorite photograph in your hand. you stand before the mirror, and labor painfully to simulate that expression. liven after you have mastered it, your task is not yet ended. In fact it has only begun. For now comes the problem of molding your features into that expression by constant prac- tice. Not infrequently, during these weeks, do you glance around you and find yourself greet- ed by the angelic Dorothy Gish on one side, and by a dreamy look suspiciously reminiscent of May Murray, on the other side, or perhaps you will find yourself staring at a replica of the petulant, coquettish mouth of Colleen Moore. In short, scores of these zealously studied ex- pressions confront you from all directions. Perhaps by this time, you have only to wait a very few days before your pictures are finally taken. Oh, the agony of it! Isnlt that wave on the right side of your head coming out? Do you just imagine that you see that horrid old pimple returning? In spite of these torturing thoughts you manage to live on, and endure the suspense. Ofne method to make the hours less wearing is to study the pictures of those who have already gone through the ordeal, and to make comments on them. As one VVestern- ite wisely remarked, now is the season when 'catsi shine forth in all their 'catty' gloryf, 'fYes, honest, that picture is perfectly ador- able, but it doesnlt look the least bit like you. icvxfelly you do look like yourself here, but I don't think itls a very elegant picture. Oh, how darling, and how very, very flattering! Such are the gentle thrusts that are' sweetly and good-naturedly flung at friends and foes alike. 5 .st I. 6 WESTXVARD I-IO After you have looked over so many photo- graphs that you begin to dread the sight of them, you awaken one bright morning with the realization that this is f'the day. Tomorrow at this time it will be all over. And you deny yourself your usual pleasure of lying abed to dream and meditate for about half an hour after you awaken. This particular morning you must allow yourself plenty of time to choose from your wardrobe a dress with a becoming collar, to put it on with unusual care, and to take special pains in arranging your hair. Small wonder that when one complaining Senior, who had had the date for the taking of her pictures postponed without previous notice, was asked, what difference it made to her, re- plied sullenly, 'fOh, T don't especially like the idea of getting up at six-thirty twice during one week. S Though you might agree with this young lady perfectly, you do not take time at such a critical moment to give the matter any consid- eration. You must concentrate with all your might and main on thevbusiness of getting dressed. After snatching hastily a bit of break- fast, and invoking the blessings of your family, you start off to school. Somehow or other the day passes, and the two-thirty bell sounds to you like the ringing of a death-knell. There is a grand scramble for the mirror, and combs and puffs are brought into vigorous play. Nevertheless all know per- fectly well that they will again arrange their hair, powder their noses, and adjust their col- lars to their satisfaction studio, when they reach the walk from school to The ride, or even the the studio is a short one, and by three oiclock you reach the scene of your severe trial. If the reader has been tempted, throughout the fore- going paragraphs, to repeat the world-famous expression Vanity, thy name is womanln she may now relieve herself of all restraint. At this point, if ever, does it apply perfectly. The small dressing-room becomes a virtual battlefield. All are anxious to monopolize the mirror at the dressing table. There is another reason, besides the mere desire to make your- self look your best, underlying your attraction to that dressing table. Cn it are two softly shaded lamps, so ingeniously contrived as to produce an effect that is very flattering to in the mirror. Your eyes more brilliant, your hair has and sparkle, and your skin of health and youth. f'The you sigh rapturously you whomever looks seem larger and an unusual gloss seems to breathe Magic Mirror! behold your transformed image. But there is no time to do much sighing. Through the thin curtains, draping the door which leads into the photographers room you shudderingly ob- tain a glimpse of the executioner herself, and her tools-an ominous looking camera, and some blinding lights. Someone is already seated on the bench there, struggling in vain to don that expression which she had so care- fully studied, and thoroughly mastered. Soon you, too, must face the ordeal. Your hair is finally arranged to your satis- faction, and apparently to the satisfaction of your friends. But what can your friends tell about your appearance? They are too busily engrossed in the task of making themselves look their best to give you a momentls con- sideration. Nevertheless, you take their word with innocent confidence, when without so much as a glance in your direction they fling the adjectives Hgreatf' Hadorablef' 'fdarlingu at you to satisfy your craving for their approba- tion. lt is four o'clock. Your head and shoulders ache from holding them in one position for so long 3 time, for who can tell what havoc may have been wrought in your appearance, if you had moved your head a hair's breadth. Your collar may have come out of position, or- heaven forbid l-your hair may have become disarranged. And now you march to the ordeal like gt martyr. The photographer smiles sweet- ly at you as you take your place before that awful black box. 'fVVhat ironyli' you say to yourself. Smiling at a time like this! But you do manage to smile back. You look to- ward the curtains for some sign of encourage- ment from your friends, who said they would be watching you from outside the door. You cannot see them, however, for the curtain is so arranged as to permit a clear view from the outside, but not from the inside of the studio. You resign yourself to your fate. The lights glare at you with unmerciful intensity. They seem to have driven from your mind all the pointers which you had gathered for this mo- ment,-your expression, the angle at which your head was to be turned. the proud tilt of the shoulders which you thought would look well in a picture. VVhy, T actually believe Tim frightened, you shamefully acknowledge to yourself. The photographer is uttering something about look- ing over in a certain direction, about keeping your left hand in your lap, and about forget- ting the nightmare that you seem to be think- ing of. In a surprisingly short time, you hear a click. It is all over, as the pleasant voice be-- hind the camera informs you. Yes, it is true. Your picture has been taken. WESTWARD I-IO 7 But you are 21 little dubious as to whether the . 'lfhere is another long see the proofs and eouse- Week in which to harbor worst is really over Week before you can quently another long' doubts and fears, as to the results of your labors. The sigh of relief which you had ex- pected to have after you left that terrible room with its blinding lights, will not eoine. Instead you turn to the girl beside you, and with a weary smile exelaini resignedly, And they say that Burke 'tests are the severest trials EL Senior must undergo ! llllvlosl, lmporfanl Occasion llmonq Us Sentara. Y' f 2 ,411 is so fm . 'jr' Ti ii X, 4 fl! IM ,I M l, C V gi it , Z , M -f I 57573 I U ,' L , .' lg f argl' V ' 'il . U 5 , wif- I f i rl v 'Y l if 'fi ill ,Wi f V IT, ' 9 , wif ll' ' nl 1 'lt , X ,N 1, N Q i? o A 4' ' - 1 sums! GD ING! GUNETW M -s--4mcigQ,j,3DJz:x--4' IN THE DAISIED HOLLOW Mary Elizabeth Sweeny, '29. ln the daisied hollow, Life again shall be, As the winds that follow The whisper of the sea, A long light from the shadow, A broad ray from the gloom, And then the April meadow Awakes with leagues of bloom. We've wintered with the weather, As light hearts will that go To make believe together That snow is not the snow. And now from shadows turning As turns the year, we leap With joy in bright eyes burning, Forgetting eyes that sleep. So shall the fortress darkened Along the Walks of life Be as a peace that's hearlcened Unto the buglecl strife. And out of sorrow straying, l..ove's clay shall still be sung, On lips of endless Nlaying And harps forever young. Under False COlO1'S IC. lic DXVLING, '26, lfllf March wind blew lustily. Its keen, sharp blast penetrated even through the heavy fur wrap of S1 young girl who had just alighted from a street car, and who was now walking, with some difficulty the wind, northward on Connecti- cut Avenue. She shivered as the knife-keen cold pierced her, and drawing her luxurious coat still closer about her, hurried to the entrance of a nearby apartment house. Inside there was warmth and subdued light from soft-toned lamps glow- ing in the lobby, and with a sigh of relief the girl threw back her coat and -entered the elevator. Ten ffoors up she stepped from the elevator and in a few minutes she was standing in the cozy living room of her own little apartment. Carrie Marsden was tired, very tired, and she still felt, every now and then, a cold shiver as the howling wind blustered around the corner of the house, but the steam radiators in the apart- ment were hissing cheerfully, and the green and yellow love birds in their ornate cage in the Q ! E E ! i i in the face of sunniest window were singing blithely, and as she went to hang up her coat Carrie espied a and all letter and a package on the hall table, her weariness and cold vanished entirely. Today was her birthday. It seemed very queer to be away from home on her birthday. And Carrie. as she snuggled down in a nest of pillows on her soft couch, looked a trifle wistful, even though she had almost hated her home. lilagerly she opened her letter. The package she left for last, even as she had always left unopened long- est the bulkiest and most mysterious of Christ- mas bundles, hto have the fun of looking for- ward to them. The letter. just as she had thought, was a birthday letter from her hard- working mother at home in the little town, no, not town, community of Dalton. The beginning was full of tender messages and birthdav greet- ings, but the anxieties weighing upon the mind of the writer had evidently been too many and serious to allow the letter to be continued in such a tenor. lt set forth a situation which im- mediately changed Carrie's attitude of comfort and happiness. V 'fThings are not looking so good at home, wrote Carries mother. Your Ifncle -lacob's rheumatism is much worse, and he has gone to his sister's twhere he should have gone ages ago, muttered Carriej and left me without a mite of help on the farm. I'm mighty sorry vou couldn't send me any money, Carrie, but it does 8 seem like I can't go on another day without some. And the ,lersey is dead. I used to be able to make a little money on her milk, but now thats all gone, and honest, Carrie, things are awful. We can't get any coal. I only keep one stove going and old Trusty and I sit by it every night thinking of you, Carrie, darling, and wishing- but theres no use wishing that, I guess. Carrie dropped the letter and slowly opened the package. lt contained a gay, fancy pillow in the shape of a butterfiy. Carrie had a hobby of collecting strange pillows. On the couch where she now reclined was a plump, rose taffeta heart, edged with lacy ruiiles, and a cushion fashioned like the head of a Colonial lady, with powdered hair, patches and roguish blue eyes. Mother must have made the butterfly herself. That cre- tonne certainly savored of the Dalton country store! Carrie felt that she hated herself for that last thought. There was a smooth, rectangular package inside of the large one, and wondering, Carrie opened it. lfrom Uncle lake! The old man was considered quite an artist by his fellow countrymen who knew nothing whatever about art, and his work was rather good, albeit a little rough. ll'is old hand frequently trembled in ap- plying his brush, and his strokes lacked firmness and decisiveness, but his love and use of color always seemed to make up for his defects in technique. lle had done his best with the little sketch he had sent his niece for her birthday. liefore Carrie, in a poor frame, was a replica of her old home, low and brown and rambling. surrounded by a wid-e porch. There were cherry trees in the front yard and wistaria vines climb- ing over the porch, but Uncle .lake had not let his ideas of beauty eliminate sordid realism. There was also a broom on the front porch, a disreputable pump on the side, and a front gate hanging drunkenly by one hinge. f'At least he had sense enough to paint the old hut in summer and not in winter, muttered Carrie. The picture slid down to the fioor, but Car- rie did not heed it, She was thinking of home, home in the winter time. Ifghl It was awful. The Marsdens had alwavs arisen at dawn, cracked the ice that had formed in the wash basin, and dressed in the cold bleakness without a lamp. Carrie could see herself, attired in an unbecom- ing serge dress, with her hair in a tight braid. eating breakfast in the kitchen. The scene etched itself upon her mind with startling clear- ness. There was the battered old table with its red and white cloth and heavy china: the creak- WESTWARD HO 9 ing rocking chair beside the drum stove that sup- plied heat to the one room in the house that boasted such a luxury, and the old-fashioned range, over which h-er mother, enveloped in a huge apron, was bending. Uncle Jake. bent with age, sat in a corner sharpening knives. and stoop- ing every now and then to bestow a friendly pat upon the broad head of the shaggy black dog lying at his feet. Funny how animals loved Uncle lake. lt was because he loved them, she sup- posed, almost as much as he loved the sunsets. and the violets that ran rampant in the back yard. There was one thing she would always remember about Uncle lake. One day when she had been complaining as usual about the dingy furniture and the dusty walls, and had declared weeping, There's never anything pretty here. never, never, Uncle jake had taken her by the arm and had led her to the window. He had spoken in an unusually quiet tone. '!Carrie, girl, there's nothing under the sun puttier than that. and he had pointed to a cherry tree, a riot of bright pink blossoms against the blue of the sky. But she had wrenched herself angrily away. A tree! The sky! NYhat she wanted were soft draperies and gorgeous flowers in low. colorful bowls. A tree indeed! In a few minutes Carrie knew, as she looked back into the past, that Uncle jake would hobble out to hitch up old Ben to the rickety cart. and drive up to the door with a Hourish. calling out, The kerridge awaits your highnessf' all the time wrinkling up his cracked lips over his almost toothless gums in sardonic humor. She almost hated him then, and during the drive to the school house she would sit grim and silent. while Uncle jake occasionally chuckled to himself, or exclaimed over the picture made by a lonely pine standing out in bold relief against the lowering sky. Carrie had tried to forget the old district school house, heated by stoves and -eternally in an uproar, but she had one memory of her child- hood days that she treasured. That was the memory of the county high school, established and nominally supported by the county, but ac- tually the pet hobby of a philanthropic million- aire whose country home was nearby. and who equipped the school with all modiern conven- iences, and sent out from the city the finest teachers. The County High School was not near Dalton, and few Dalton boys and girls attended. being kept at home for farm work, but Mrs. Marsden, remembering the fine education of her late husband, decided that Carrie must become a pupil at the school. But in a way her education had done her as much harm as good. Never quite content with her lot, and rebellious as a child, she had risen above her homely neighbors and her own family, and had soon become more restless and dissatisfied than ever. Vague ideas of going to the city took possession of her, and at night as she lay in bed she could hear the whistles of the trains on the tracks nearby, going from. VYashington to Tjaltimore, from Baltimore to Vtlashington. Vthen the shrill whistles screamed she would dash to the window, and resting her elbows on the sill, would look at the rushing trains until the last car had swung around the bend. And then, back to bed to dream of the time when she would go with them! Her decision had been formed soon after this. She went to one of the infrequent neighborhood gatherings, which she never enjoyed and at- tended only for a change of atmosphere, and there she met a young girl of her own age who was working in XVashington. Fine job, too, and some cash! You oughtn't to stay buried in this hole, dearie. Snap out of itll' And Carrie had snapped out of it. She had packed her few clothes, said farewell to her weeping and bewilder-ed mother, and after prom- ising to go to her- mother's cousins, whose ad- dress she had, at last rode away from Dalton on a XYashington bound express. Her heart pound- ed happily as the train rushed toward the city where she was to make her fortune. How glad she would be to get away from the dingy, sordid life of the country, the smoking lamps. and the stove that burnt up one's face while onels back froze. She arrived in XVashington, and after various inquiries presented herself at her cousins' home. They did not at all fit in with her dream of city happiness. Their home in the southeast part of the Capital was small, stuffy and almost as bad as the farm. llut the people were hospitality personified, and, strangely enough, it was through them that Carrie received her great opportunity. She had walked the streets looking for a position, but it had seemed that no one wanted to employ a country girl without experience. and Carrie turned sadly away from door after door. She was feeling all her rosy dreams vanishing when Cousin Joe Parker told her of his plan. Cousin ,loe was a typist in the offices of the Clerk of the Supreme Court: he had grown old in the service and was now much respected by all his co-work- ers. He was so happy to think he could do something to help Carrie that his kindly old face beamed as he told her his news. The file clerk in the ofnce had resigned, and another one must be had immediately. Cousin joe had at once recommended Miss Marsden, and since the need of a clerk was so imperative. Miss Marsden was requested to report for duty the following day. Carrie was jubilant. Her ability to work and her interest soon won for her the approval of I0 WESTWARD I-IO her superiors. Her success l1ad been most un- usual. XN'ithin a month she l1ad been advanced and her salary raised, llfleanwhile, feeling the need of companionship of girls her own age she had become rather friendly with the girls 111 the office, girls with whom she had very little in com- mon, and who realized that Carrie was too sel- fish and self-centered to be really friendly with any of them. liesides, Carrie could not shake oE her country habits and training as easily as she had supposed, and she did not always enjoy herself at the somewhat boisterous parties that her new friends, in their own vernacular, Hpulledf' There was something else that was a serious blot on Carrie's happiness. That was the Parker house, her present residence. The place was re- pulsiv-e to her. She hated it all, the stuffy rooms, the cabbage roses on the llrussels carpets, and the carved and fluted pillars that held up the orna- ment-bedecked mantlepiece. Nor was there much in the way of amusement. The Parkers had neither victrola nor radio: there could be no dancing, and the old couple would stiffen hos- tilely at the mention of cards. Carrie longed for a small place, if only two rooms. to call her own, to fix up in bright draperies and pretty furniture. That was her dream, but she had felt there was no possibility of its fulfillment when one morning on her way to the office she read an Had in the Tim-es that sent her scurrying away to a Con- necticut Avenue street car, and a few minutes later through the entranceway of a large apart- ment house. The advertisement had said the tenth floor, and up went Carrie, shaking with eagerness and fear. Soon afterward she left the place with such an uplifted expression that one might have thought that she was seeing a vision. lglut it was a very material vision. For Carrie now had her own home. She had answered the adv and found just what she wanted, two rooms. beautifully furnished, sunny and bright, and a darling little blue and white kitch-enette. And all this within the limits of her pocketbook! Tshe owner was going abroad for several years and wanted to rent her apartment as soon as she could. And Carrie, hastening to the ofhce, knew she was hf- teen minutes late, but what did it matter! Those two sunny rooms and that blue and white kitch- enette would be hers tomorrow. She had moved in feeling like a princess with her lovely surroundings. At last she had a home, some place to return after a hard day at the ofhce, a place where she could kick off her slip- pers and curl up on the couch, to peruse unin- terrupted an interesting story. But her living expenses now mounted quite high, and the amount of money that at first she had faithfully sent l10111C with conscious pride was sadly diminished. Tm awfully sorry about that, she thought, chewing her pencil as she puzzled over her ac- count books, but living is 50 high. Carrie had not been able to buy herself 1na11y new clothes. The money she had been sending had cut a large hole in her salary, and now tl1e apartment was taking more tllall she had thought. But each day she realized more and 111ore how shabby her clothes were becoming, especially her coat. She could not help contrasting it, shabby, and without even a fur collar, with the bright- hued, fur trimmed, or fur coats of the other girls i11 the office. Once sh-e ventured to ask how they could afford them. Hlnstallment plan, Deariefl said Miss Swartzman, the 'fsnapipiest dresser i11 the office. Buy 'em on 'tickf Honest, it's a cinch. Wihy dontcha get one 7' llvhy, in- deed! Carrie did not like the idea of buying on the installment plan. For her that was out of the question. But couldnt she save? Fur coats were very much reduced now, and besides her old one was so shabby and thin she was always catching cold. Cf course, there was her mother, back home at Dalton. She might be needing a coat this year. Dalton winters were severe. ,llut good heavens, mother was buried down there! She never went out anywhere. It didnlt matter about her, but Carrie-. She did save. She put off the rent and sl1e bought her coat, a hand- some thing that semed to fit in with the apart- ment, but certainly not with Carries other clothes. And that month, and the following month, no money went home. Then Carrie met Vtfilton Davidge, old Judge Davidge's son -old Judge Davidge, with the snow white hair and aristocratic features, and the stately carriage and horses he still clung to, de- spite the fact that his son's smart car was always at his disposal. Anybody who was anybodyf, and a great many who were not, knew or knew of the Davidges, and could point out their home with its sweep of gravel driveway, and its pil- lared entrance facing Farragut Square. VVilton Davidge had come to the Courthouse on business for his father, and Carrie was sent to help him look up the document he wanted. The business had been transacted satisfactorily and there was no need for young Mr. Davidge to linger, but he did linger, nevertheless. The next day he came again-on business! Carrie had been lonely for the past few weeks. She found that the girls in the office and their crowd did not interest her, and on-e by one they dropped away. lVilton's friendship meant a good deal to Carrie. lVith all connections broken off with her former friends at the office, and the Parkers indignant at the independent WESTWARD I-IO ll way in which she had gone off to a place of her own, Vtfilton Davidge was her only friend. Although petted all his life at home and in society, VVilton Davidge had not been spoiled. Indeed he was often rather shy and boyish, and flushed easily under his tan. He danced well and drove a beautiful car, He was a crack polo player and a Davidge! Moreover, he was artis- tically talented, had studied art and had been told he could do something great, but in the whirl of his busy days he had never been able to settle down to work to produce something worth While, yet he was always looking forward to the time when he might do this. And now he was interested in Carrie Marsden. Somehow she did not seem to belong in an office! Carrie was immensely Hattered by W'ilton's at- tentions, and not exactly unconsciously, posed, in a thousand little ways, to impress him. XVhen she heard him talk of his school days, his polo ponies, the places he had visited, the interesting people he had met, she resolved never to let a word escape about the hideous house at Dalton, the gingham-aproned, hardworking mother, and Uncle jake, whose beard always needed trim- ming, and whose clothes always needed patching. She talked rather vaguely and evasively of her home, until VVilton had a vision of an old white, Colonial mansion, rather in need of repairs, but still beautiful and interesting, and of a dainty little mother always dressed in lavender silk who fluttered about the hugephouse like a butterfly. Carrie, as she realized these impressions, felt a trifle nervous, but she speedily reassured herself. Oh, well, I never told him just thatf' She never ceased to be thankful for her beautiful fur coat, for she liked to be well dressed when she went out with VVilton, and what harm did an in- nocent pretense of a little money do? She began to buy for herself little trinkets, such as rhine- stone buckles, her novelty pillows, and bright scarfs to lighten her dark dresses, trinkets which in themselves did not cost much, but which added up to an appalling sum, And again no money went Daltonward. Then came the climax of her orgy of spending. VVilton invited Carrie to a big affair, a subscrip- tion ball at the Mayflower for the benefit of the Near East, and painted for Carrie's benefit a glowing picture of the notables who would be present. Carrie accepted, but of course, she had nothing suitable to wear. She bought something, though, a beautiful something that shaded from deep rose to pale pinkish yellow, that with its soft draperies looked like nothing so much as a rainbow escaped from the blue, with here and there raindrops, represented bv rhinestones, sparkling and gleaming, And of course there were slippers and sheer chiffon stockings to go with it, and Carrie had had a permanent wave and a manicure, and altogether she had spent an awesome sum for one evenings pleasure! She knew she would never have another occasion to wear such a dress as she had just bought, and altogether she was not happy as she had thought she would be. The ball room dazzled her, Th-e people she met were not inclined to be friendly-and then there was the occasion of her meeting with jean Pierre DlAvezac, the lion of the capital. Had she really allowed Wiltoii to think that she already knew the man! She remembered the look of amazement on her es- corts face as the young Frenchman gallantly greeted her, plainly puzzling over where they could have met before. And she had not been able to say where! Oh, it was horrible! They had left early, and Carrie had gone straight to bed, too tired and worried to pull back the lovely fancy spread that was her pride and joy. The next day was her birthday, but she had arisen with a headache and had gone to the office in a bad humor, so there had been nothing very festive in that. Now she sat curled up among her pillows, staring out the window, thinking, thinking. Outside there was a stream of motors with here and there a gay dash of blue, yellow or red that proclaimed a taxi, and in spite of the roaring March wind, handsomely dressed people promenaded on the avenue. How different from Dalton with its muddy roads and occa- sional Fords! Carrie reached down and picked up Uncle jakeis picture. Then she re-read her motherls letter. Wlhat must she do? Go home? That would not help any. The only thing to do was to send for her mother and keep her in XVashington. Why that was a fine idea! Why hadnlt she thought of it before! It would be wonderful for Mother to g-et away from that horrid old house and its one warm room, and to come to this beautiful apartment. It never oc- curred to her as she prepared to send her mother a telegram, that perhaps Mrs. Marsden would not want to com-e to Washington, that perhaps the old home at Dalton was dearer to her than the finest palace in the world. Indeed, Carrie never thought very much about what others might want. She wired her mother to take the 10:30 train for VVashington on Thursday. Today was Tuesday. Tihat would give her plenty of time to get ready. Thursday arrived. So did the 10:30. Mrs. Marsden did not. But when Carrie, seething with anger, arrived home there was a letter. I just couldnit come, Carrie dear. You don't know what it means. I love this old place. I don't care if it is old and ugly. Itis beautiful to me. You were born here, Carrie, and your father died here. It's full of memories for me. I donit lZ WESTWARD HO care about W'ashington and tl1e wide streets Zlllll tl1e big houses you tell me about, Zlllil I guess I'll manage somehow. Carrie was furious. She went straightway to tl1e phone, called long distance, a11d in a few 111i11- to the ge11ial countryman utes sl1e was talking who kept the general store at Dalton. Could you get 111y mother to tl1e pl1o11e, please, Mr. Strong? To everybody else, and to Carrie formerly, the storekeeper answered to the name of Uncle Moef, VVhen he l1ad somewhat recovered f1'OU1 tl1e sl1ock of the Mr, Strongf' he answered. Its snowin' terrible hard, Miss Carrie. I'd be most afraid if I wuz you to ax l1er to come out. I said will you please get her to tl1e pl1o11e, Mr. Strong, repeated Carrie i11 an unpleasant to11e. Muttering something about onery people, Uncle Moe persuaded 0116 of tl1e loafers sitting around the stove to go for Mrs. Marsden, Zlllil in a few minutes the two returned, covered with snow. Mrs, Marsden went to the phone, Is tl1at you, Carrie, dear? sl1e quavered. Yes, it's I, snapped Carrie. XYhat do you 111ea11, Mother, by staying i11 that cold house all by yourself? I'll expect you tomorrow morning. But Carrie -- No buts, Mother, I really cannot afford to keep two establishments going, you know.' Tl1e sarcasm of the last did not touch Mrs. Marscleii. SITC see111ed to forget that for a long time Carrie had not done anything for the Dal- ton house. She was genuinely distressed. HAH right, Carrie, I'm sorry. I'll be there to- morrowfl 'Thats a dear, Mother. Carrie, having won l1er point could afford to be generous. i'I'll meet youf! Carrie 111et her motl1er tl1e next day and took a taxi from the station, although Mrs. Marsden was horrihed at such extravagances! But Car- rie thought she would have died if a11yo11e l1ad seen ll6l' with this old-fashioned looking WOIIIEIII, and l1e11ce this 111etl1od of arriving home. Mrs. Marsden was very quiet O11 the ride ho111e, and although Carrie tried to interest l1er by pointing out tl1e l1o111es of celebrities and other places of interest, the mother displayed scant, polite atten- tion. Nor did she enthuse over the apart111ent although it had never looked so charming. She felt old and worn, and-well-useless. For it was Carrie who took off her motherls coat and hat, wl1o briskly packed away her few belongings, and who prepared the dainty luncheon while Mrs. Marsden sat silent and still. She did not it i11 here. Now that the only thing tl1at needed her. the old house, had been taken away, she was of no use to anyone or a11ythi11g. She merely picked at tl1e food tl1at Carrie set before her, a11d seemed to be gazing off i11to space. Carrie was troubled, but sl1e was also a little angry. For l'leaven's sake! Didnt l1er mother realize tl1e difference between Dalton a11d lYashington! XYhile she was removing the dishes tl1e 17l1011C rang. It was XYilton, just returned from a trip. llis pleasant voice ra11g witl1 enthusiasm. XYhat do you tl1ink, Carrie! I took tl1at little land- scape I painted, you remember it, don't you, to an art dealer while I was in New York, Zlllfl he says he'll buy it a11d some more, and to go ahead with them! Some luck, eh! Come celebrate with a little di1111er somewhere tonight. Car- rie's expression of delight over l1er friends suc- cess changed. I-I'm awfully sorry, but I ca11't tonight. My-my mother's with 111e nowf' Thats all right, Carrie. Bring her along. Plenty of roo111 i11 the old bus, you knowfl Carrie l1esitated. Her face burned at tl1e thought of taking mother out to di1111er. Her 'Dalton appearance Zlllfl manners would 111ake them a laughing stock! And then-all those silly im- pressions XVilton had about her mother. No, oh, no, he mustn't see l1er! Thats awfully 11ice of you. lN'ilton, sl1e said gayly. but really, Mothers tired to11igl1t, and I don't think she had better go out. just then Mrs. Marsden entered the room. UOh, Carrie, dear, you mustn't put yourself out for nie, she said, laying her hand on Carries arm, why not i11vite your friend here for din- ner Fw She had bee11 standing close to the telephone and YYilton l1eard l1er! llefore the angry Carrie could 111otion l1er mother away he laughed, The very tl1ing! I'll be tl1ere with bells on, Carrie. Thank your 111otl1er for me. Thank your 111otl1er for me! Yes, Carrie felt like-thanking l1er! f'YVell, I hope you're satisfied, she glared at her surprised mother, and rushed i11to the bedroom in tears. But when she looked in the mirror and saw how ugly and red her eyes were, and how unattractive her tear- stained face, she tl1ougl1t better of crying a11d de- cided to make the best of it. She helped l1er mother i11to the old-fashioned, rustling black silk that sl1e had wor11 for church. combed her hair. a11d tried to make tl1e roughened ha11ds and broken nails more presentable. But the toil-worn, red- dened hands refused to yield to any beauty treat- ment, a11d in despair Carrie gave up trying. YVhen she herself was dressed sl1e set out for tl1e store to prepare for the extra guest, calling to Mrs. Mars- den as she went. 'fI'll be back before he comesf' and adding to herself, I better had be. There's no imagining what motl1er might tell him if they are alonef! Hut the li11e of customers i11 the store was a long one with many wants, a11d it WESTWARD HO I3 was a long time before Carrie finished her shop- ping and arrived home. She slipped into the kitchenette and began to undo her bundles. Sud- denly her blood froze in her veins! Yoices in the living room! He had come before her after all, Through the half-opened door she saw them. Mrs. Marsden was exhibiting-of all things- Uncle jake's sketch, and she was evidently talk- ing about home-- and its so pretty in the spring when the cherry trees are in bloom. Car- rie's been telling me about the japanese trees here, Mr. Davidge, but they can't be as pretty as ours. And ours make such good pies. l make right smart money off my cherries. Carrie gasped, but XVilton was looking down at Mrs. Marsden with a peculiar expression that certainly did not signify disapproval. 'AI am very fond of cherries, Mrs. Marsden. You had better not tell me too much about yours or I shall drive down to your house this spring and raid it for piesf' I wish you would, Mr. Davidgef' said Mrs. Marsden hospitably, lands knows it isn,t much of a place, butl'-L Carrie thought it best to enter just then. She came in, her chin raised defiantly, and looked straight at XVilton, rather hostilely, he thought, as she gave him a cool greeting. Mrs. Marsden was surprised. It was too bad that Carrie should be so cool, almost rude, to this pleasant young chap. There weren't any airs about him. She tried to make up for her daughters lack of hos- pitality. W'e've just been talking about Dalton. havenlt we, Mr. Davidge, and about your high- flown notions when you were little, Carrie -- Hlfxcuse me, mother, but will you help me set the table P interrupted Carrie peremptorily. Of course. dear. I'd a had that all done. only l thought my ways were always too old-style for you,' answered Mrs, Marsden in innocent sur- prise. Carrie flushed and XYilton glanced at her in a sort of wonder that increased during the meal. Funny how she was acting. He had never seen her like that before. She was always interrupt- ing and contradicting her mother. lle didn't like that in her. He wished she would stop. Funny, too, about that house of hers. lladn't she told him some yarn about an old mansion-oh, well. maybe he had been too quick to form an opinion from the hazy descriptions she had given him. Then there had been the D'Avezac affair. XVhat was her motive? All at once he understood and was almost stunned by the revelation. She had been trying to make an impression on him, and to make him think she was more than she was. As if that made any difference to him! lle saw it all now: this apartment, her furs, the beautiful costume she had worn to the ball, the taxi she always took from the office in bad weather. They had been blinds all right. NYhat were those hints she had dropped so casually every now and then-something about believing every girl should have an occupation, lt was so stimulating and beneficial to the mind! lle had actually believed she worked from choice! llahl lt made him sick. Her mother here was worth two of her, darned if she wasn't. And all during the meal he devoted himself to Mrs. Marsden, who was so bewildered by the silver candlesticks, the glow- ing candles, and the beautiful flat silver that had always adorned the table of the apartments real owner, that she scarcely knew what she was doing. To Carrie the meal was a nightmare. She felt that XYilton must hold her in contempt, and at the some innocent reference of her mothers to snowstorm through which she had labored to an- swer her daughters summons, she looked up, ex- she pecting to see scorn in his face, but instead saw only the look of one who is puzzled and be- wildered. And when it was all over, and he had taken his leave, her vision suddenly cleared. Funny how well she realized the whole situation now. She had always been selfish, hadn't she? ln her desire for a chance at life and beauty she had slipped away to find it alone, instead of try- ing her experiment at home where all might have enjoyed it, She could have stayed at Dalton for she had been offered the district school, but teaching boisterous, country children had not seemed to offer the key to that longed-for world of beauty and opportunity. So she had gone away, and she had used her money for clothes, trinkets, everything for herself. She blushed to think of the money spent to make VVilton Da- vidge think she was well off. Why', she had even led him to believe she worked from a mat- ter of principle! ller cheeks burned when she recalled the false colors under which she had been living. And now she had brought her mother away from the one place in the world she loved. because she, Carrie Marsden, was too selfish to go there. llut she would make up for it now- that she was determined to do. She had been mechanically drying dishes as she meditated, paying no he-ed to her mother's rambling conversation about the people at home. Suddenly she had an inspiration. 'fFinish the dishes, will you. mother? l'm going on an er- randf' She hurried into the bedroom and from her closet took out the rainbow dress. XVith lov- ing hands she carefully folded it in soft tissue paper. The stockings and shoes went, too, and then, taking the package under her arm. she climbed the steps to the next floor. Th-ere she rang a doorbell and waited. The door was opened by a young girl of Carries size and color- I4 WESTWARD HO ing. She was Elsa XVaring, a young singer for whom a glorious future was predicted, and whose first recital was only two weeks off. Oh, Elsa, gasp-ed Carrie, Uhave you found a dress yet for your concert? You know, you said you wanted a dress for that occasion that would be different from anything you had ever owned, and that you would scour the city for itf' Elsa Wlaring shook her head. No, I haven't found it yet, and the great day only two weeks away. VVhat shall I do, Carrie ?!' Elsa-Elsa-Look-Isn't it lovely! It will be beautiful on you! Sec how it sparkles-a regular rainbowlu Carrie,,' Elsa was gazing delightedly at the dress. VVhy, Carrie, itls gorgeous! A few minutes later Carrie left Elsa admiring herself in the mirror, with fifty dollars clutched in her hand. The dress, even- as second. hand, was worth much more than that, but she didn't care. Tomorrow would be the end of the month, thank Heaven! She could get her salary and with that and the fifty she and mother could go back home and do something toward fixing up the old place. Spring had come to Dalton and to one house in Dalton especially, a little one with wistaria trailing over the porch roof, and pink cherry The house looked been painted white at every window. in those windows, porch, and a girl with a happy face in one of the rockers. She was reading a letter that was postmarked New York, and for some reason had been delayed a long time in reaching its destination. 'fAnd when I called up your apartment, two days later, and found you were not there, I was furious with myself. But I found out from Mr. Parker what you had done, and where you were, and though I had to beat it up to New York I make a note of your address. Then that beastly pony had to kick me on the arm and put me out of commission for a while, but as soon as I was able I 'grabbed this chance' to write to you. The art dealer told me my last stuff wasnyt so good, that what I needed was a quiet country place with plenty of scenery and er-er-inspira- tion! And so your new boarder will arrive May the nrst, on the 3:15 from VVashington. blossoms in the front yard. somewhat changed. It had and it had green shutters There were bright curtains comfortable rockers on the Carrie smiled and slipped the letter in her pocket. She went into the kitchen and baked two luscious cherry pies with the red juice oozing from them. Then she returned to the porch to await the whistle that would announce the ar- rival of the 3:15, w-41ci9jg0yauv--4, AT DAWNING The dew-drops on the fresh leaves softly glow like precious pearls, While slowly in that cool, clear dawn each Flower-cup uncurls, Each hit of life, each bud, each plant awakes to that sweet air, To wonder at the lovely earth that it should he so fair. The songhirds join the hrooklets in their early morn- ing lay, Of trilling, gurgling welcome to the rosy new-horn day, While mirrored in each lake and pool is that reflected hue- That glorious, deep, unclouded shade of heaven's own true blue. And then-majestic--golden-floating gently up on high, The sun appears and smiles at dawning from the eastern sky. Mary Louise Zschiesche, '28, 9 Xxo 3 Gyn .J w X ILKOI' DILHOI DQQK The mouxe mn u the dom! 1 :S G42 cf N T S 6, I 1-l'- y, '- , - My Pirate as measles and the mumps just mention pirates to the small r members of our ,many-membered '- - - -' family! Their eyes will light up, their chests will begin to heave spasmodically, and they will entreat you in the most heart- rending voice to tell them a story about Cap'n Kiidd! You then sig down, scratch your head for a second, wipe your forehead with your new handkerchief, rattle the keys in your back pocket for a moment or two in deep, deep con- centration, clear your throat once or twice and then use all the imagination God bestowed upon you. The children listen in breathless silence which is punctuated occasionally by a few HOl1 lJOyS', or gee whizzesf' After vou entertain them for about a half hour, you sud- denly remember that the doctor warned you about undue excitement, so you bring the story to a hasty close by having both of the pirates drown themselves, thereby making the waters of the ocean salty forever. You go to bed feel- ing that you have done your daily duty, and you want to pat yourself on the back, but as you are unable to twist your anatomy success- fully, you content yourself by throwing your bedroom slippers at the cat. F I, too, had a pirate. It is hard for you to believe it. llut at any rate I had a pirate, I gleaned him from the world of books in which I lived. I had a new adventure for him every time I wanted to use him. I gave him a name to suit every adventure. I went so far as to pick even the names of the seas upon whose restless waves he was to rove, killing and plun- dering those who sought to bar his piratical X our family the pirate-stage is i i taken as ainatter of course, just fl-' ' 1 Q I I way. l made everything up. even to the frame- work of my pirates black, bushy beard. That is half the fun of having a pirateg you can do anything at all to him and he will not say a word. At times, when he was to ravage the coast of lil Flapadora, I would call him Captain Cillum Quick, because on that coast, he was especially bloodthirsty and cruel. Then again, l would make him a gay young rake, with nothing to do in the world but drink wine, make love, and sing songs. He had been driven to piracy by his stern old father, who refused to foot the bills his handsome son had accumu- lated so blithely. Aloysious Cthe sonj would say in a voice choked, with tears, UPapa, re- member me to Mamma, tell her that 'twas you who turned me from the gate. I am going to go my own way from henceforth, and no longer 16 will you have to quarrel with the haberdasher who charges you an extra shilling for my silk hose. Farewell. The next time you hear of me, it will be as Scarlet Sammy, the Scrooge of the Seven Seasf' NYith that he dashes madly out of the door and becomes, true to his word, a bold, bad buccaneer who scorns everything but money and salt pork. He finally loses his life in a quarrel with one of his crew. At the news of his death, his parents kill themselves, so they can meet their son in heaven. At that age I believed that everyone went to heaven, even pirates, so I sent this particular one to eternal paradise. However, I didn't always make my adventures so tragic. Sometimes some of them would be sweet little love affairs, for at that age I was sentimental. My pirate would be a gentleman pirate, that is he would be a political or religious refugee, who out of the bitterness of his overiiowing heart, would turn privateer to spite the government. Then he would meet a ship on which his sweetheart was being held a prisoner by the cruel cap- tain. Naturally there would be a battle in which the pirate would vanquish all others. He would rescue his dearest and then, together, hand in hand they would look for the welcome morrow. Usually my pirate would be handsome, just, kind and lovable. He would also be domineer- ing, bold, cold-blooded whenthe occasion de- manded, and at all times, he simply had to be gentle toward the ladies. If the ship were burning, and the crew in dire straits, my pirate would always be obliged to say to the female portion of the prisoners fafter he had bowed beautifullyj 'fI,adies, my humble self and ship are at your disposalf, The usual thing is to get ride of pirates as quickly as possible. and a quick method is to make them 'fwalk the plankfy However, my pirate must alvvays be the acme of politeness. He would always, even in the thick of the battle be dressed in black satin, trimmed with white ruffles, with a red scarf around his head, to show that his inten- I had tions were most piratical. The reason a penchant for black satin is explained by the fact that my mother had a beautiful satin dress with which I loved to play queen. Xkihen you held, it up to the light it shone with a lustre that even Cleopatrais rich silks could not rival. Then. too, my pirate wore slippers the silver buckles of which were studded with diamonds stolen from the Zinuawapeais ta race of green people living in Utopia. He would sometimes wear a curled wig, but as this would necessitate WESTWARD HO 17 a bald head, he wore it seldom. Of the three things that I abhor, a bald head comes First, so how was it possible for me to love a pirate whose lofty head was minus hair? He would be enormously tall, so that he could look down upon his timid little sweetheart, with a loving look in his flashing eyes. I have always been under the impression that a man must be tall in order to look upon you lovingly. Of course, I am wrong as any maid will quickly tell you. My pirate would be the strongest man in the world, so strong in fact that he could turn the ship upside down to find the troublesome leak. I really must tell you something about theship also. It was a large, hideous vessel which had once been the property of some unfortunate merchant. I called her f'Bloody Bess in times of peace, but when there was any Hghting to be done. her name would not infrequently be changed to Dead Men Tell No Talesf' I think that title is very significant. That re- minds me of the parrot, for you know that every pirate ship must have a parrot who can shout Pieces of eight, Ho! pieces of eight. or Ten lllen on a Dead Mans Chest, Ho. Ho and a Bottle o' Rum! The parrot on my ship was of a rare species. for her face was a dirty green, her wings a sickly yellow, and her feet a poisonous, wicked red. Contrary to other parrots aboard pirate vessels, this one was quite a student, She also knew Latin, Hebrew, Shorthand and Egyptian, not to mention Anglo-Saxon. Malayan and Chinese. She also knew the history of the world, and was on the best terms with many rulers in Africa, her native town. This parrot rarely lost her tem- per, but when she did, she would call you a Confounded Afghanistan, which is Hima- layan for stupid. I named her f'Turpentine.', The crew of the ship would be composed of the cast-offs of every land. They would be wicked, dissolute, greedy and treacherous, but my captain could always keep them in check, for as I have said before, he was an unusual pirate. The best time to make up a pet pirate, is when you're very young and very lonely. A pirate is a wonderful thing if you know how to handle him. The best time to think of the bold buccaneers, is when the clock has struck midnight, no one is in the house with you, you can't sleep. and you're very restless. Turn out the light, imagine you are surrounded by ghosts and pirates, look on the walls to see if there are any suspicious shadows, and, if so, run upstairs as if you are pursued, jump into bed and cover your entire body Cincluding your faeej with a thick, woolly blanket. just see if you can't close your eyes then. Ask me, I know! BERNICE FRAN K, '27. 41Pl4lC5XUlv-41' THE LAND OF MY HEART'S DESIRE Sitting alone one evening, Alone, by the glowing fire, l saw a vivid picture, In the land of my heart's desire Out from this glowing vision, Up from the coals of tire, l wandered in my visions To the land of my heart's desire. l pictured a garden of sunlight, Where l'd always longed to go, A garden aglow with color Of the rarest Howers that blow. Each flower in its vivid splendor, Each bird with its merry call Sent to my heart a message, And, l understood it all. l wandered through a village, And on through unknown towns, l've sought and still l am seeking. My treasure, l have not found. Out of my mind comes this vision, Out of my soul comes a fire, 'Tis the thing l have always longed for, ln the land of my heart's desire. It is not a land l am seeking, Nor gold so hard to find, 'Tis a service to human nature That to all l might be kind. ln each throbbing breast of man, Will always be found this l'ire,' And it's cherished and well protected ln the land of our heart's desire, Catherine Fager, '28. First Things First IXIARGARET Mokvirz, '26. UCY VARR walked briskly up Lexington Street. Not that she had anything very pressing to do, just a few odds and ends of sh-opping for the family, and a whole Saturday afternoon to do them in! But she threaded her way as quickly and efficiently between the hustling shoppers and marketers as she did everything else, and disappeared into a department store. In a few minutes the socks, black lisle, were purchased for her father, a new magazine had been dis- covered for Phil, and the pink calico matched for Aunt Magsy. Out again into the sunshine, through the pushing crowds, to the market, then Lucy spent a glorious fifteen minutes at the flower shall, selecting the daffodils for the house and P'hil's room. Finally she boarded the car, her arms full, and sank thankfully into the last empty seat. She was tired, altho she hadnlt realized it, but things were so busy at the office, and the store had been crowded with the usual Saturday throng-her mind was sud- denly off on another tangent,-suppose the cal- ico didnit match-the store lights were poor and no one had had much of the old-fashioned material in stock, anyway. Aunt Magsy would be in a dreadful temper-Dad hated cheap lisle, but for just around the house they'd have to do. She turned petulantly to look at the unin- teresting rows of houses they were passing as if to shake off the petty worries. VVhy was she always anxious about such little things- suppose her purchases didnit suit! Aunt Magsy would get over it eventually, and Dad would forget the cheapness of the lisle within a min- ute and be submerged in the depths of a book again. lint the little worries persisted. She wondered if Lulabell, the lady of color who did the days work for them had 'fshown-upu for Saturday cleaningg if the laundry man would get there before she did, she hadn't left money for himg if she had saved enough this month to buy Phil the new parts for his radio, and if she hadn't, if he would be very much disappoint- ed. The streets had liown by unnoticed, and her stop was reached before she realized it. jump- ing up quickly she stumbled up the aisle with her packages just in time to get off the car. In her hurry, sheididnot notice a man recognize her andswing oi the step as the car got into motion again. . I I i------0--.1-i , Ti 11,--i , i 2- . -l i -1---.-gui. Hello! w3It's Lucy, isn't'tit 7, I8 Startled, she turned toward him and her face broke into smiles of recognition. Why-Carey Martin! Cf all people! Vtihen did you get back? 'KI just got in this morning-unexpected visit this time for me! Howis. the family? Still bossing the whole gang as usual ? K'Oh, well, you may call it bossing, but I rather think it's of a dubious sort, she re- joined laughingly. But she sobered immedi- ately, for the last year Lucy Varr had not had over much time to waste on laughter. 'Tm so glad you're back, Carey. Phil has been missing you so-you know he's so restless since his accident! It's so hard, especially for him, to be still. He asked just the other day if I knew whether you'd been back yet for a visit. !You!ve selected just the right time to see him-I'm taking for granted you'll stop in and have dinner with us. They were walking, now, down the long block to Lucy's home. The man looked at the girl with a sort of wonderment in his eyes. Was this slim, bob-haired, young lady, the Lucy Varr upon whose shoulders the entire care of the Varr family had lain for the past year? It had been hard to believe the news his mother had written him, to see her now and to try and realize that she alone had done it, was harder still. He had been working out of town for a good many years and had been home very seldom, merely for flying visits, but he had always managed to see Iiucy and Phil, his boyhood chum,-Phil-he who had been so full of energy and life, who had prom- ised such great things. VVell, he had done him- self up now, poor chap! He turned back to Lucy-she had been a jolly good pal, too, he wondered if she had changed under the bur- den of her responsibility. She was in the midst of telling him, now, about her anxiety over the half yard of pink calico. Vylhen he finally understood what she was saying, he threw back his head and laughed aloud much to the astonishment of the serious girl beside him. 'KA piece of pink calico-of all things to worry about! Why Lucy Varr, do you realize that youire missing the golden sunshine of this glorious spring day just worrying over a piece of material. To say nothing of the way you are overlooking a visitor's happiness. I want to hear all about-you!', WESTWARD I-IO I9 She laughed good-naturedly and then turned her head away so that he could not see her ad- mirable profile under the smart little hat, and said earnestly, UYou know, Carey, I seem to be always worried about pieces of material or little things nowadays and I don,t know how I'll ever stop. The habit has got hold of me ever since Mother died. She used to tell me that she never stopped worrying, and I laughed, but I know now. It's either the coal or the gas or the milk or something-I feel swamped, simply swamped ! Doesn't your aunt take a little of the re- sponsibility? I am ashamed that Phil lets you get it all, even if he is ill. Oh, don't blame Phil! Po-or kid, he's em- bittered for life, I'ni afraid, and there's been enough to make him so this last year. First Mother's death-you know how he worshipped her, and then Dad's failing health after the business went Hop, and then his own accident. Hle doesn't see anyone but himself now. And Aunt Magsy's in bed-breakdown from old age the doctor says-but I don't know why I'm heaping all my troubles on your defenseless shouldersf' she broke off abruptly as they turned in the walk. Lucy hurried up the steps and Hung open the door. Downstairs was shin- ing-ah, Lulabell was here today. Dad, Aunt Magsy, Phil! I'm home and I've 'brought a visitor, she called gayly. Carey noticed the difference in her voice-it was as if she had covered up her cares in a cloak-he wondered if he had been talking to the same girl a moment before. I Did you get my calico, Lucy? a quaver- ing voice came floating down the steps, as at the same time Mr. Varr, a man, old and broken by business reverses, shuffled into the hall. He welcomed the visitor apathetically and taking the paper Lucy had brought in, quietly wandered away again-the package of socks under his arm. He hadn't noticed Lucy particu- larly. Yes, indeedy, Aunt Magsy! just a sec- ond and Iill be upf' Turning to Carey she said softly. Don't let Phil see that you notice the change in him, he's dreadfully sensitive. Gao right up-you know the way--I've got to see Lulabell for a second. I've been having trouble with the grocer again and I suppose he didnyt send the stuff as usual. She disappeared into the back regions of the house, and as he went slowly up the steps, he heard her talking to the maid- UI,m worried about these greens for dinner -they're not fit! Goodness knows what I'll do --Phil hates 'em anyway !-U At the simple meal that evening only Mr. Varr, Lucy, and Carey were seated. Her father ate in great haste, without saying a word, and soon vanished. As he left the room, little worry wrinkles, that Carey could see were deeply worked into her forehead, appeared on Lucy,s face. Poor dear, heys been so lonesome and be- wildered since Mother died. I suppose I ought to attend to him more, but really-U Oth, forget it--excuse me -as he saw her indignation- but you,re still young, Lucy Varr-,' Yes, and I've still 3 family to look after, too, and see that it's happy ! l'0h, I know. but whether the greens are good enough for dinner or Aunt Magsy is cross this evening, shouldnit worry you the rest of your natural life, even if it is your fam- ily! he answered heatedly. She rose and led the Way into the living roomi 'II guess I seem foolish to you, Carey, but if I don't see to these things, who will?l' No one would be fool enough to, he admit- t-ed, but they'd live without these little things-I' UBut they arenlt little to the people at home, they're big, important! Ch, donyt be one of those so called broad-minded people who canit tolerate narrow-minded ones simply because you aren't really open enough to see the narrow-minded per- son's point of view-I'm rather mixed, but you can get the drift of what I meanf' I donlt want to, he exploded, Uif you're try- ing to p-ersuade me that any thing is worth wor- rying your youth away over. Good-night, Lucy, we're old enough friends to speak frankly, and I really canit see that you're distinguishing be- tween things-you're not putting hrst things Hrst!,' Oh, it all depends on what you consider hrst things, my hot-headed friend, she responded calmly, as she noticed how good-looking he was when he got excited. Don!t get so wrought up, Carey-I realize that some of the things I am troubled over are not very important, but after a few years Iill have them sorted, I hope-now letls talk about pleasant things. Although not convinced, he consented to change the subject and when he was' finally home that night, Carey Martin decided that Lucy Varr was still as wonderful as ever, and if she could ever be persuaded to chuck that family-whv-well. 'fBarkis-was still willing!', But he knew it was impossible-she'd told him not long before that her family had been thrown on her--any- ! ! 4 20 WESTWARD HO way she'd never learn to put first things first. Then he laughed-for he realized that he was putting himself down as a first thing in Lucy X'arr's life, But the phrase clung to Lucy's mind-first things first! The next day, seated in her own room, she was wondering what were to be the first things in her life-would the petty anxieties ever cease to occupy the largest part of her mind? But little cares meant her family-her poor, broken family that was so dependent on the little bit of love she could give. Yes. Her family, not herself, would always be the first thing in her life, it seemed. Not that she minded par- ticularly, but it was rather a barren future to look forward to-already her young friends had been lost in the scuffle of past years-only a few faithful ones like Carey were left-Carey Mar- tin. For years she had known, even before he had asked her some ages ago, that if she ever wanted to marry he was r-eady. Lucy tried to imagine how it would feel to be married--her own home and friends, just the two of them. lt did sound alluring! But no-how could she think of such a thing? There was Daddy calling now for her to read to him, and Aunt Magsy was whining for her to bring the work basket. She jumped up, brought her thoughts back to normalcy and emerged the Lucy that the fam- ily knew and loved. ln another week Carey Martin departed having been fully recaptivated by Lucy and having duly asked Cknowing all the time what the answer would bej, and had been duly given the expected reply. But when he left, his last words were: i'Remember, Lucy, old top, first things first! The words haunted her. She could not help now, thinking how little-how very, very little, the things over which she was worried meant to her as a girl! After all, why should she live her life only for her family-wasn't the happi- ness, protection, and love of marri-ed life owing to her? More even than to other silly young things who never knew care and sorrow before marriage! She was no longer so very young. Another year and she would be in her thirties- the fateful thirties! Carey had left his physical bigness, his personality with her-he had also left his address to write, he had said, when things got too unbearable and she had to let off steam-but she knew that he had meant, if she wanted him to come! Should she write to him? VVhy not? Other girls who had cares at home had taken husbands! VVhy should she always be anxious over spinach and Lula- bell, they weren't the first things in her life-yes, her life-not h-er familyis life, or Phil's or Dad's or VVorry's life-not her fam- ily's life.-it was hers-an abstract life to live- throw it away on her family, never! Lucy Yarr had decided. She would go away to Larey- quietly. She couldn't tell her family. She would be free! The next morning she donned her most be- coming costume,-the trim suit, the White waist and the chic little hat that Carey had openly ad- mired. She carried her smart over-night bag that Phil had given her for Christmas. She told Aunt llagsy that a hinge was broken and that she was going to have it fixed, told the first lie without batting an eyelash-it was her life, it was! She left enough of her money to pay the tradesman that would come during the dayg she almost changed her mind when she kissed Phil good-bye-well, at least he would understand, but she wondered if the housekeeper would hurt his lame back, and last of all, her father--he wouldn't mind as long as she didn't take the li- brary with her. At last she was out of the house -on her way, on her way to happiness and Carey! She was late and hardly had time to get aboard the train to New York before it was off. It was well on its way before she was finally set- tl-ed comfortably. She leaned back and closed her eyes-trying to see Carey's face when he would see her, instead of Aunt Magsy's and the eternal darning needle to which her Aunt's life had been dedicated, or to stop thinking about Phil, whether his medicine had come or the doc- tor-or if Dad would remember the building loan. TVho would hire the help the complicated little house needed, and would the p-erson buy fiowers for the house-Dad and Phil loved them so! And would Lulabell remember to attend to the ferns every other day, or to feed the dog, or to give Phil the white meat on his tray. Sud- denly she remembered how he had called for her when he was coming out of the ether, and how. he had clung to her when the pain was the worst! And again, how Dad had given her all the money that was left to manage and how credulous and trusting he was of her management! Qh why, why must she think of these things? It was her life,-her's! her's! hers! Hens and! Carey's. lt was the only fair way, anybody could see it. ,First things first! Carey had said it, she must remember! Abruptly she realized it-first things first! The petty cares, the love, the family-they would always be the first things in her life- always, wherever she was! Tt wasn't an abstract life-theoreticallv it was, but Hlivinglyn it was theirs-Dad's, Phil's, and Aunt lX'lagsy's! Wiliiiington-Wfilmington ! al-lere-oh. here! I get out here, conductor! Dazed sh-e found herself on the station plat- form at VVilmington. Still more dazed she found herself in lialtimore, at the office, finally, at night, home! WESTWARD HO Zl l.ucy! Did you get the brown darning cot- ton? The man didn't come to see about the plumbing l 'fYes, Aunt hlagsy, l got it, and Howers for Dad and oh, l'hil, the parts for the radio are coming tomorrow l 11-iaicfxfoip--uv On With The Dance ELSIE Msrrnsws, '27, ------------ AXCING was originated by the ig '55 savages, who most probably danced 2 E for pleasure. Th-e savages dance E E was merely a jumping up and 5 -LE down, a swinging this way and '- that. ln Cireece the dance was made beautiful, graceful, and expressive. The Romans originated theatrical dancing. In primitive life dancing was used as a re- ligious ceremony. The savage danced when he desired something, using it, as we would say, as a prayer. The Devil Dance of the Lama Church CChinaj was merely a religious ceremony. Chris- tianity favored religious dancing at the begin- ning, and secular dancing was very popular for a while. ln 74-l A. D., papal decree abolished dancing absolutely in all religious matters. It was in Greece that dancing had its greatest social development. .-Xt banquets and festivities the dance was used. Today-over the entire world the dance makes its social appearance. At the court of France. the origin of social dancing is associated with the rise of chivalry. The taste for social dancing spread rapidly. Cath- erine de Medici was especially fond of the masked ball and encouraged it as much as possible. The dances of the countryside were gav and unrestrained, in contrast with the Court dances which were very formal and dignified. The dances which have been most popular through the centuries in Franc-e are the grave solemn 'fpavaneu and the lively 'Kcaurante' of the reign of Louis XIV: the minuet, which was at one time the most popular of all dances. has since vanished from the ballrooms of today: the gavot- te, the eotillion, the polka and mazurka which were very popular at one time, have also disap- peared. The waltz was once the most popular dance, but today other dances have taken its place, yet the graceful waltz is still a great favor- ite. llut-jazz l lfverywhere jazz is danced today. Beneath the syncopation and ragtime we catch the faint echo of tom-toms, of bare feet pat-patting against the ground, of naked bodies swaying in wild exulta- tion. It has been said that jazz came to us direct from the jungles of .Xfrica and other un- civilized places. VYhen we hear jazz we can hardly control ourselves. Faster! NYilderl 'xYe want to be free, unrestrained! jazz! The wail of the saxophone, the steady beat of the drum! ,lazzl l The First dancehall was opened by an linglish- man in l788. The novelty drew the crowd and soon many such places were built. Today there are thousands of such halls. The custom of masking is very old, Through- out all the ages man has disguised himself in various ways for various occasions. Today we have what is known as the masquerade ball or dance. The guests wear strange and beautiful costumes, and wear masks so that they are not known. Furthermore. a character must not be merely well dressed-it must be lived. lint throughout all the ages there has been the dance-the dance which is a reaction from the nervous tension of American life. a swinging back to the old days when man was free. Un with the dance-it is lifel '?'r'4lG.Q!fQDf'i-rf' THE RUSTLE OF SPRING The Howers have started blooming, The woods with music ring,- Some say it's the sign of summer, But l call it the rustle of spring. Light as a baby's whisper, The breeze soft-scented blows, And tenderly kisses each upturned cheek Of violet, and daisy, and rose. Wild Flowers start their growing, And birds their carols sing, We look and we listen about us, For the soft, sweet rustle of snring. Catherine Fager, '28. SPRING Bird on the bough. ready to Hy, Spreading thy glittering wing, Tell me before thy flight on high, When it will come-that glorious Sprving? Tell me, sweet bird, with cheery song, The hopes sweet April will bring, Hc-w long 'twill be 'til the frost is gone, And Cod will send me Spring? Weary am I with life so dull That knows but care and pain- So sing to me with crooning lull Of God-and Spring again. Raine Williams, '26, . 1 7 -- -... -1 - . -l - .... i - . .-.. - 1 .. 1 L .. ll. i nn - i , - 4 11X I'f5 A I l. Ll R f X.?Wl-men . .Hue ..l 1csgic.CnrPel'..FaH5 ??! N Cobwebs CATHERINE T was suppertinie in the Carter - household. Mrs. Carter was busy mashing potatoes while the cof- fee sputtered away on the stove. Mir. Carter, reading the evening '- paper, was comfortably settled in the worn leather morris chair in the front room. Mrs. Carter came into the parlor and looked out of the window. 'KI wonder what's keeping Isabelle. I've been trying to delay supper for her, but if I wait much longer the potatoes will be stiff with coldf' Mr. Carter made no response to his wife's query. Theres Evelyn now. I'd better call her in before she gets away from me. She ran to the door, calling to Eve- lyn who went Hying by on her bicycle. She was surprised by Ev's almost immediate response. Not three minutes had elapsed be- fore she heard her stamping up the back steps and the bang of her bicycle on the porch. It usually took at least ten minutes to get Ev in from any physical exercise. Gee, I'm hungrylll she exclaimed as she slammed the door behind her. She threw her coat on a chair. 'iGee whiz! what did you call me in so soon for? I could've gone around the block ten more timesf, Supper is ready now, interrupted Mrs. Carter. HI was waiting for Isabelle. I can't imagine why she is so late. Ed l-Supperf, Ev was already at the table gulping her food. f'Evelyn, stop thatfl said Mr. Carter rather sternly. You have plenty of time to eat. You canlt go out any more to-nightf, Aw, Daddy, I haven't any lessons to do, and the crowd is going to build a hre in Bab's yard and We're going to roast marshmallows and everything. Please, Daddy. Ev spoke in her best wheedling tones. 'Well, all right-but only for a little while! just then Isabelle came in. ' Goodness, Isabelle, I thought you'd never come. Mrs. Carter jumped up to pour her a cup of coffee. I'm sorry we haven't much you like to-night but- 'Tcl like to hear you say that you were sorry you didn,t have what I likedf' burst out Ev. VVe always have potatoes just 'cause Isabelle likes lem ll' 'fEverybody has potatoes, said Mrs. Carter. 'fYes, they do-where there are 'Izzies' aroundlu retorted Ev as she grabbed her coat SHAW, '26 and flung out the door. Mr. Carter had fin- ished eating, so he went into the parlor to finish his paper. XYhatever kept you so late, Isabelle P 'KI stopped at Dr. Robinson's on my way home. He says I need a rest and advises that I take my vacation as soon as possible. I think I'll ask to-morrow if I canlt start Monday. Itls rather early but I suppose I had better follow orders. Isabellels voice was rather lifeless. Lately she had been little more than an autom- aton. 'iBut where are you going? To Aunt Hattie's. She Wrote last week that Uncle John was going away on business and that she would be terribly lonesomeiin that big old house although the Summer Col- ony would soon be there. She asked me to come up and see her. You know I haven't for nearly three years-when she came to see me graduate. Don't you think that would be a good place to go for a rest? It's uD in the mountains and all that? Isabelle got up to dry the dishes. ' But your father won't like it-your going up to Hattie's,,' remonstrated her mother. I canIt help it whether he likes it or not. I think it's silly of him to be angry with Uncle john and Hattie just because Grand- mother left the old homestead to them. He got his share in money although it wasn't quite as much as the house is worth. Besides, he wouldn't have taken the house if you had given it to him. He never did like it up there as a boyf' Isabellels eyes Hashed. She and Hattie had grown to be great friends although they rarely saw each other. Hfhen Isabelle had hrst seen Uncle .Iohnls second wife she had fallen in love with her-a sweet, shy, little thing scarcely eight years older than she was. lloth of Hattie's little children had died, so she had mothered her mother-in-law until her death and had been like a second mother to Isabelle. She understood Isabelle's dreamy, sensitive nature, though she came in contact with her only through letters, better than did Mrs. Car- ter. And she could sympathize with Isabelle's day-dreams because she, too, built castles in the air. Although Mrs. Carter did not know how far I-llattie had taken her place in Isabellels heart. she was very jealous of the correspond- ence between the two and now strove to raise 23 24 WESTW every objection to Isabelle's plan of spending two weeks alone with I-Iattie. 'iXVon't it be rather lonesome for you up there FU she asked anxiously. f'Course not, Muz. VVhy Buena Vista isn't a mile away and Blue Ridge Summit, with its summer residents, is only about two miles away. Hattie has many acquaintances among the colonists so if we get tired of the solitude, we can take ourselves over there. In fact I'm not sure that I shall be carrying out Docs or- ders to take a complete rest if I go up there, but I'm going. f'VVell you had better ask your father before you make any plansf' Mrs. Carter could think of no more objections so she threw the burden of opposing Isabelle on Mr. Carter's shoulders. Isabelle kissed her as she hung up the damp dish towel. I'll tell him now and get it overf' She went into the parlor where her father was still busily engaged in the front page of the newspaper. She picked up a magazine to read until an opening could advantageously be made. Her eyes wandered absently over the page and then to the window. She stared unseeing at the trees in their new green, obscured by the dusk. She was wondering what the old home looked like now. She r-ecalled dimply a large white house perched on the top of a little mountain, with a winding -shaded road leading up to it. A dreamy far away look had come into her eyes. I-Ier father, glancing over the newspaper at her, curled up in the corner of the davenport, with that eager look in her eyes that was a signal that she was in 'an- other land, frowned. I-Ie had thought that Isa- belle had got over this foolish habit, but here she was again-blowing bubbles. He cleared his throat very audibly and returned to his reading. Isabelle's thoughts were recalled with a start. A little puzzled frown appeared. VVhat had she been doing? Then she smiled. Building air castles of course. Dad was not the only one who was surprised to catch Isabelle day- dreaming. She, herself, was very much sur- prised. There was a time when all her days were full of dreams-when she was at school and had had high ambitions and hopes, before she became a secretary at twenty-five a week. But of late she had concluded that day-dreams were just cobwebs-golden cobwebs perhaps, but not the more durable for all their beauty- so easily brushed away and not a trace of them left. So it was with all her ambitions-her hope of becoming an artist, a dramatic critic, anything but a secretary at twenty-tive per. And here she was lapsing into more day- ARD I-IO dreams. Again her father glanced, up from his paper and audibly cleared his throat. Dad,'l she said, Dr. Robinson told me to take a rest, so instead of going to the shore for my vacation, I have decided to go to Aunt Hattie's.', She spoke hurriedly for she had never relished such an interview with her ob- stinate father. 'II-Immm, you did? I-Iow do you know she wants fou? he asked rather tersel . 5 'She wrote and asked me to come to see her soonf, was Isabelle's seemingly laconic re- ply. 'fVXIell, why tell me? You know that I don't want you to go, but that wouldn't stop you. Nothing can stop you once you get an idea into your headf, A most impressive silence ensued. Then-'fBut I-Ilattie had better stop meddling. She humors you too much, indulges every whim. VVhen you wanted to go to the Mary- land Institute, didn't she offer to pay your way? As if your own father couldnit or wouldn't give you what was good for you. But this foolish daubing in paints wasn't for your good. He almost snorted fire and his eyes glared. Isabelle wanted to say something in Hattie's defense, but as usual, she lost her courage under this tirade. Everyone was struck into silence when Edward Carter started on the war path. So Isabelle left the room without 'saying a word. As she slowly undressed, she reviewed her strange family. Ev-she was a queer mixture of tomboy and talent. I-Ier mother presented nothing complex-just the proverbial house- wife, happy in her home and with her children. Her fathered-he was still a puzzle to his oldest child. Sometimes so stern. so chilling that he choked the very words in her throatg at other times so gentle, so emotional that he was as flexible as a child. True he was very seldom that way. Isabelle could remember but one instance-when her younger brother had died seven years ago. Isabelle had never seen any man so kind to his family as he was then. Many times she thought he had been on the verge of such gentleness when some opposition to his stubborn will had arisen and all signs of kindness were hidden under a cloak of taci- turnity-silent tantrums the family called them. As for herself, Isabelle was satisfied with I-Iattie's analyzation of her Yours is a life of cobwebs-the stuff that dreams are made of. Hattie had written this when they first met. Isabelle was aware of what many people termed her greatest weakness-her proneness to be ever reaching for the unattain- able, but she was not sorry for this restless discontent being there. Rather she felt that WESTWARD HO 25 she would be sorry if it were not in her make- up. She knew she could not do great things, but it gave her great comfort to dream them. So it was, she fell asleep dreaming of her vaca- tion at Buena Vista where she saw herself a full blown society bud. Isabelle got her leave for her vacation, and on Sunday evening she arrived at Buena Vista Springs. carriage. john use, but Ifm a little timid by myself, she said. Isabelle pressed her hand in reply. All the way home they were silent, though both had many things to say. The stars were just peep- ing out, and the crescent moon was but faintly etched on the great blue canopy overhead. The croaking of the frogs down by the little moun- tain stream that ran parellel to the road, and the long wailing cry of the whippoorwill, held all of Isabelle's breathless attention. She had read of the charm of the country at twilight, but the reality enthralled her. I-Iattie, who had heard these sounds for over five years, thought they sounded sweeter than ever. Not a word was exchanged between the two. Both felt that words would be a desecration of the spell which nature had cast over them. Only the dull thud of the horse's hoofs was audible. Hattie met her at the station in the left the automobile home for me to They had driven up to the front of the house, but neither made a motion to get out of the carriage. Hattie smiled as she watched Isa- belle with lips parted and eyes full of wonder. looking down over the valley. Here and there tiny lights twinkled from the farmhouse win- dows, looking like glowing stars which had fallen to the earth: over on the opposite moun- ain towered the Buena Vista Hotel. Isabelle turned to Hattie and a strange little shiver of joy thrilled through her. just then Martha. I-Iattie's colored help, came rushing around from the kitchen with waddling gait. She caught both of Isabelle's hands as she jumped from the carriage to the ground. NLaw me, Miss Isabelle, but you has growed since I see'd you last. Isabelle smiled. rather embarrassed. It had been four years since she had been here-on that sad occasion of her Grandmother's death. Yes, suh. I kin hardly b'lieve my own eyes. Doan I remember when you was just a little tot wut used to come up heah with youah ma. And that last time you was up heah-well yo' sho has growedf, Mar- tha was shaking her head in wonder as she held her off at arms distance. Isabelle's eyes grew misty and the face of the good old servant was blurred. Impulsively she threw her arms around her After she and Martha had helped Hattie to unhitch the horse, the three proceeded to the big, cheery kitchen where a delicious typical country meal was on the table. There was a slight fire in the stove although it was early May, for nights were sometimes chilly in the mountains. After Isabelle had taken her lug- gage up to her room, she and Hattie sat in the kitchen and talked, while Martha went to her room to read her Bible. For two weeks, Isabelle led a charmed life. She and Hattie took a walk early every morn- ing before breakfast, doing what little of the housework faithful Martha would allow them to do, spending most of the morning either working in the garden or in secret planning in the garret. After lunch they would spend a lazy hour reading, or talking on the veranda, or out in the hammocks on the far slope of the mountain. Regularly at two-thirty they Utidied up and went visiting or walking. The evenings they spent much as they had that first evening in the kitchen reminiscing or dream- ing of the future. But those two weeks could not last forever. Yet when Isabelle left Hattie at the little station, both were smiling not the forced smiles that are put on at partings, but real, genuinely happy smiles. One glance at the fresh vibrant Isabelle and her unassumed cheerfulness dispelled all the doubts and fears that had beset Mrs. Carter during her absence. She was glad now that she had let Isabelle go, not only because she had improved physically, but because this trip had definitely quieted Mrs. Carter's fears that Hat- tie was taking her child away from her. That was on Sunday. But on Monday, the Carter household was plunged in the worst turmoil it had ever experienced, by Isabelle's announce- ment that she had resigned her job and was going to open a tearoom at Hattie's. Mrs. Carter refused at first to believe her. Mr. Carter vociferated loudly, emphasizing every remark with a bang of the fist on the table. For once Ev was silent. Isabelle stood with wildly beating heart and eyes blinking to keep back the hurt, angry tears that welled up. Finally, unable to keep back the hot tears, she dashed upstairs. just as she reached her room she heard Hattie's name mentioned. She heard her father say, XVhat in the devil does Hattie think she is, that she can break up our home? In a minute Isabelle was back in the kitchen. Dad, don't you dare say a word against Hattie. She didn't plan it. I did. And she didn't want to let me do it, but you yourself said that nothing could stop me once I got an idea into my head. And nothing shall! Her 26 WESTW eyes flashed and her cheeks were scarlet. She turned with resolute slowness and marched up to her room. The next day she came down rather late. Her eyes were swollen, and her lips were very red and very chapped. Mrs. Carter looked at her so pitifully-so like'a faithful dog that had been lashed mercilessly-that Isabelle felt the first pang in her undertaking. Oh, Muz, don't look at me like thatll' she cried. f'And you would go to Hattie and leave mef' she said softly as if dazed. 'fYou would go to her and leave me. 'fO'h no! not that. It isn't that, Muz. It's only that Ilm so tired of earning 5525 a week in a dirty, cramped little office that smothers my every ambition, that suffocates the very life in me. Only that! She looked at her mother pleadingly. HYou are being so unfair to Hlat- tie when you say that, Muz, so unfairf' But Mrs. Carter seemed not to understand. K'I,.eave me for Hattiefi she kept repeating. Leave me. Isabelle felt very sorry for her mother and, had it not been for her father's constant sneer- ing at this latest and most preposterous day dream, she would have abandoned the enter- prise. But her father's sneers made her deter- mined to show him what she herself had some- times doubted-that she could work hard. that she would make any number of sacrifices, that she could endure any amount of scorn to suc- ceed in the work she loved. So in another week she was back at Buena Vista. The task of converting the house into an Inn was not a difficult one. The spacious parlor and dining room made an ideal tea-room when the great folding doors were opened: the broad veranda commanding a superb view of the val- ley below would be a perfect retreat for weary tourists. During the two weeks of Isabelle's vacation she and Hattie had painted up old fur- niture until the attic looked like a Hower bed. Hattie wasn't an artist, but she could paint yellow lines where Isabelle told her to put them, and she had made the dearest old fash- ioned chintz curtains for the latticed windows, and attractive screens for the new electric wall lights. Un Monday, .Iune the third, the Climb Inn' was officially opened. Isabelle's mother and Ev came up for the opening, but Isabelle and Hattie were so busy that first day, that Isa- belle had only a few minutes with them. Isa- belle, it seemed, was everywhere at once. Shv little Hattie meekly answered her every call, joyfully doing her bidding. That night when they were alone Hattie said to Isabelle, Oth Isabelle. how do you do it pu ARD I-IO Do what? inquired Isabelle. XVhat you did todayj! said Hattie rather perplexedly. Mingle among so many people, -order people about- HDid I. order you about? ,Deed I'm sorry. But we were so busy, weren't we? She hugged Hattie impulsively. If we are just half that busy every day, welll make a fortune. By the way, when is Uncle john coming home ? 'tHe won't be home for at least a month, perhaps not for two. Even if he does come home sooner, it won't make a bit of difference, because he always lets me do just as I wish. Heis just as good to me as he was before we were marriedfl Hattie blushed slightly. I wish I could say that about Dad, said Isa- belle wistfully. He gives mother things for the house whenever she asks for them, and he wouldnt think of actually hurting her, but he is so selfish and so scornful of her indulgent na- ture that he strikes terror into my heart at times. Heaven knows how it must hurt mother to real- ize that she has no power over him at all. He may love her but only as long as she does what he wishes. Oh, llattie, I wish mother had the strength of character that would make Dad real- ize how overbearing he is and how unhappy he is making all of us, himself included. Isabelle was crying' as she spoke. The nervous strain of the past two weeks had been too much. lelattie patted her soothingly but Isabelle could not be quieted. He is so intolerant. He gets mad if mother can't understand politics. It irritates him to have Iiv practice and she has so much talent, as for me-Well, he thinks day-dreaming is a crime worthy of capital punishment. Isabelle laughed ruefully. But we'll show him, won't we, Hattie? During the days that followed Hattie oft-en had to remind her of this promise to keep her from abandoning the project. Not that money failed. As far as money was concerned Isabelle's project was a complete success. And she was very happy, too, at times. But there were other times when Isabelle would be torn with anxiety. She was beginning to feel the need of a moth- er's help and sympathy just as she was realizing that each day carried her farther and farther from that help and sympathy. VV hat was it to succeed in her enterprise, if succeeding, she lost her mother's love? She still loved Hattie as much as ever, but she could see too why her mother could think that Hattie was trying to separate them. Isabelle never for a moment doubted that IIattie's purpose for urging her to keep on with the Inn was entirely unselfish. She had too great confidence in her for that, and in- deed I'Iattie had no other thought than to make Isabelle happy. Still that unrest of spirit re- WESTWARD HO 27 mained. Isabelle wrote to her mother regularly, and her mother replied just as regularly. liut her replies were such empty, half hearted affairs. She never wrote of the family-just general things. Isabelle might have been very happy, but for this anxiety over home affairs, for she had suc- ceeded in arranging to open a gift shop with Mrs. Merrill, a wealthy young widow, who wanted something to occupy her time. She wrote to her mother telling her of her good fortune. When Mrs. Carter read the letter she was very much exasperated. She had hoped that Isabelle would see the lack of wisdom in attempting too great a project and would return to her old po- sition. But now that she had had what she termed such a stroke of good fortune, she would never be content with smaller things again. Mrs. Carter felt this would surely carry her forever beyond her reach. Mrs. Carter knew she had none of those qualities which Isabelle so much admired-ambition, initiative, ability. She felt that in Isabelle's eyes she was a person without strength of character, because she had so long indulged her children and her husband, that she had no courage to oppose them even for their own good, she had allowed her pride to be crushed in the dust by Mr. Carters scathing criticisms so often that they had no respect for her. The realization of all these things rushed upon Mrs. Carter as she read Isabelle's letter. That night as she sat in the parlor sewing. while Mr. Cart-er read, she began thinking again of that letter. She had not yet told Mr. Carter of it. He had been absolutely silent for three days when she had suggested that they spend the Fourth at Buena Vista with Isabelle and Hattie. She was determined this time not to be the first to make a step towards reconciliation, even if Is- abelle were not here to se-e her triumph. liut she had felt her determination wavering as Mr. Carter showed no sign of coming out of his si- lent tantrum. She felt that the oppressive sil-ence would soon crush her, but she still resolved not to speak. Mr. Carter, too, was wishing that the silence would in some way be broken. He was willing to concede -everything-even that Isabelle was right in thinking that it was better to have at- tempted a great thing and failed, than it was to be satisfied with petty successes. He was even wishing he had his life to live over again,-that he had been a better father and a better hus- band. Ilut he could not find words to break the silence. Mr. Carter glanced up from his book. His wife's eyes were clouded with a faint mist as though Isabelles very cobwebs were being drawn across them. Hrs. Carter did not see him. She was thinking. Was it better to have lived a life building castles in the air-obscuring cold real- ity with a silvery veil of cobwebs-than it was to have lived a life where there was nothing but hard facts? Even Evelyn had h-er day dreams of some day being a famous pianist. And she-- did she ever blow bubbles? She was sure she rarely did, and she felt now that she had missed something very great from her life. She recalled her delight when in the early morning on the farm, she had discovered dew bespangled cob- webs in the cornfield. They were the only kind she had known until now. Ed, she murmured half to herself, Isabelle is right-she always was. Mr. Carter was pac- ing the fioor. I-here is a letter from her, said Mrs. Carter, drawing it out of h-er dress pocket. She-she says that she is going to open up a gift shop this winter, so it's all right. She spoke very hurriedly. Her throat felt as though it were closing on her. It always did on such Occasions as this. She was standing up leaning on the table beside her. Mr. Carter turned sud- denly and caught her by the shoulders. f'0h! Ed dear, we must give Isabelle her chance, and if she fails, we must feel as she does-that it is only by failure in great attempts that real suc- cess is won. If we could only feel like that- she choked. You want me to, Ann? You want me to ? He spoke in tones as gentle as that day seven years ago when their little son had died. Mrs. Cart-er shook her head. Very well, then we'll go to see Isabelle and her Inn on the Fourth. Vtfe will surprise her. Mrs. Carter was as ner- vous as on the night she felt he was going to propose. And Ann, all along I have had a no- tion that Isabelle was right. I suppose I ought to tell you--I was doing a little dreaming my- self tonight. I saw you and me as we were that night twenty-one years ago, and I was wonder- ing if we would ever be like that again. My dream has come true so why not Isabelle's P He kissed h-er simply on the forehead, and then he laughed heartily at the glow of color that crept into her pale face. It was the first time he had kissed her like that in seven years. Early on the morning of July the Fourth, three people climbed up the winding path that led to Climb Inn. They had not the look of the weary tourist or that of the vacationist. They looked as if they were coming home after a long absence. Their faces spoke of the happiness of children when th-ey see what Santa has left them on Christmas morning. Yet only one of them was a child. The other two were a middle-aged cou- ple. Hattie spied them first and cried in fright- ened voice, HIsabelle! Look! Isabelle rushed to the window prepared to see 28 WESTWARD HO several tourists crushed beneath an over-turned machine, llattie! Oh llattielu she cried, lt's all right, Dont you see-they're smiling. She looked at llattie's pallid face which was noth- -ns-4 .N ing more than a white blur before her eyes, into which there had crept that faraway look as she murmured half to herself another of my dreams come truefl A Dayis Angling Cii.xuLo'rTE HARN, '26, Thr litflv Illfllllfll has Iitfla scales, Ti1lfC7'U'.Y red in his lzfzizcisoiize cyr, T110 .vrczlfxr f'.1'fl'l1!lI 011' his zivrfiral fins, Ana' his f0I'f'1II'lIll1 is rozuza' and liigli. His-fo1'c1m1d is round and high, my boys, And 110 slccfis' flu' wzizfcv' flzrougli, Hr Iilecx H10 rock in flu' szmizuvr time, ,lfft'I'0f7ft'1'IlS d0Iomiz'z1. ------------ llli small mouth black bass has smashed more tackle, worked more profanity, and put more members into the Ananias Club than. has i :I any other scaled demzen. of fresh '- - water, Anglers for this species pitch their camps by river, lake and stream, and fish morning, without it. A desire to fish often seizes clear morning, and will not let satisfied it, ln order to satisfy this craving, l must go to my favorite fishing haunt, near a little hamlet, where runs a stream in which small mouth black bass abound. Nowhere can there be found a fish which possesses the gameness, the fighting qualities, the brilliance and the delicious flavor of the small mouth black bassi lie is not always black, for his color changes according to the shade of the water, the condition of the weather and the extent of the field in which the fish may domesticate. Often I have seen him swimming lazily about among the great stones, his slender body a dark mark below the clear wate1's. In my favorite stream, innumerable rocks and boulders lift their scraggly heads above the sur- face of the waters. On clear days, the sky is a dark blue, and the sparkling waters mirror the sky in its color, glittering and shining in the sun light, A short way down, the stream lifts its head and hurls itself over a thirty-foot abyss to the turbulent waters below. llere, frothing and churning, the waters are turned into lacy white, and leap up in towers and pinnacles of foiamy spray. 'llut the spray falls back, and spreads out, until, flowing farther on, the waters form a great five-acre pool with the water-fall as its central figure. The water leaves this pool by a circuitous route which leads through giant boulders and rocks to a second fall about three-- fourths of a mile below, A luminous white mist noon and night-with luck and me on a bright. go until I have gathers ov-er these falls in such a way that the waters seem to pause for the final plunge into the next pool. Lireat thundering noises, a series of tremendous splashes and the mad, leaping waters bound back into the air, throwing up showers of delicate, cobwebby foam. It is in this second pool that the gamest and largest bass are found. I paused here one morning, rod and fiy-book in hand, to gaze about me in open-eyed admira- tion. It was very early in the morning. The sun was just driving away the shadows of night. A moderate breeze was blowing, just enough to make the leaves of the trees and the blades of the long grass, glistening with early morning dew, wave gently. I do not know how long I would have stood there, had not a sudden splash and succeeding circles of waves told me that my friend the bass was getting his breakfast. I carefully selected my lucky train of flies--a brown llackley, a Montreal and a Lord Balti- more, attached them to my line, and made a cast out into the stream. Out they went! A turn of the wrist, and, fluttering naturally, they fell on the surface. I reeled in. Again I sent the flies out. Again I started to reel in. I had recovered about three feet of the line when- smash! went the end of my little slip of a rod against the water. The fight was on! It seemed that the bass had decided he was an aeroplane. for out of the water he hurled himself, mouth open, and shaking the Lord llaltimore as Clai- borne would have liked to do the real Lord Igialti- more, Down he came, and off he went, my reel ringing merrily, Three times he leaped, and three times my little rod kept him from casting the Hy. Again and again he tore off on a mad rush. Again and again he felt the check of the drag, and the tantalizing resistance of my little bamboo, till at last he, the best fighting fish in our waters, was quite tired, Then I reeled him in, and when he lay, quivering and gasping in the landing net, his dark splotched sides indicat- ing the strength of the swarthy warrior, I felt that I was indeed victorious. Ilut the second time I cast far into the stream. the bass were not so willing to be caught: I thought I would stop and rest my arm. The sun was now shining, bright and warm and ffeecy white clouds dotted the pure blue of the sky. I WESTWARD HO 29 indulged in childhood dreams while I gazed up at these clouds. There was one, pulling and stretching out, that reminded me of an elephant- see I-that little narrow one in front was cer- tainly his trunk! A cirrus, delicate and fibrous looking, came floating past and reminded me of the long train of a court lady's dress. Then a cirro-cumulus, which looked like a flock of woolly sheep grazing followed its lead. XYhile I painted sky-pictures my nerves and muscles gradually relaxed until a sudden splash near my feet caused me quickly to look at the water. A bass had just barely missed a bug after which he had leaped. I saw the color of the bug, so I hooked up a train of flies as nearly like in color as pos- sible. Out they went. Another strike, and my rod tip touched the water. The merry clicking of the reel, and the pull on my line told me that the fish I had now would not only be a big one, but that I would have no easy time in landing him. I did have a hard tim-e. For ten minutes I played him, thinking every second that he would break my line, or escape me in some way. llut no such thing happened. Triumphantly. at length. I drew him in, wondering, as I had often done before, how a three-pound bass, for so I judged him to be, could possibly raise such a disturb- ance as he had just created. I strung him on a line with my other fish and tied the pair to a stake I had driven in the ground near the waters edge. The sun had now only about an hour's course to reach its zenith. and I was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger. I always carried a lunch with me, so all I had to do was to select a clear pool for drinking water. At a bend in the stream, where the great rocks were in the deep shadow of the trees, I drew cut my pocket lunch and began to eat contentedly. After I had finished my lunch, I selected a swift- running place to drink from, and, by lying fiat on my stomach and dipping my nose in the water, I managed to imbibe the fresh, cold water. Then turning over on my back, I rested a few minutes. How beautiful everything was! The trees were absolutely still except when a faint, warm breeze rustled their tips. A wet, brown log, firmly caught betwe-en two rocks, looked to me like an excellent place for bass, but I lazily refrained from investigating it. The chirping and tlitting of a few birds from tree to tree, the distant roar of the falls, and the barking of a belated gray squirrel alone broke the silence. Finally, however, I arose, and with a last back- ward look, and an inward wish to stay, I started back up stream. After finding my rod, I chose my fiies-this time a lilack Hackle. a Professor and a Illue lay, and made a cast. The fish must now have been hungry, for I landed a small bass in a very short time. After adding him to my stringer, I repeated my cast into mid-stream again and again until I had passed Dr. Heukles thirty prescribed casts. The fish must have gone to bed, or else they were growing wise, for not one seemed to know that I was fishing. Those little flies danced joyously, sank slightly and swam on the line to the turning of my reel. I turned my attention again to the heavens, and, I found that great masses of Cumulus had collected in the sky. Hut what alarmed me was that the storm clouds were beginning to appear. They will pass over, I said, and returned to my fishing. A cooling wind sprang up and the leaves of the trees began to rustle and wave. I was just reel-- ing in a perfunctory cast, when something bit my tly, and, with a whiz-z, the line began to run off my reel. Giving the line a slight jerk to hook the hsh firmly, I let him play, but I kept my line taut-reeling in-then giving up the line I had gained. Suddenly a steady pull warned me that my fish had swum around a rock, and unless I were careful, he would break my line. I had climbed on to another rock further c. ut in the stream, and was playing my fish again, when a low rumbling broke the stillness of the struggle. Thunder! I dared to raise my eyes to the sky for one little minute. The heavy mass of clouds, rising in the form of mountains, with its dread black and white color, seemed to fill the sky. Again I bent to the struggle. Ile Hzusz' be tiring-but no I-for there was a snap, and my line hung limply in the water. My bass was gone! Another rumbling made me hasten back over the rocks to the shore. llurriedly un- fastening my stringer, I gathered up the three hsh and rod and prepared to run. Ah! I had forgotten my f'ly-book. l'ausing to pick it up, I took a quick survey of the approaching storm. The slate colored waters refiected the dark sky, and the roar of the bounding falls seemed hollow and ominous. The rocks were black now, and evil-looking in the quick fiashes of lightning. A gust of wind shook the trees, bending them low. and sending the waters slapping against the stones. Then at a mighty Hash of lightning, and a sharp crack of thunder,'I turned and fled. I think I might have beaten Nurmi then, for I had no idea that I could run so fast. It is suf- ficient to say that the rod, the bass and I ar- rived at the station in a jumble-just as one of the worst storms I have ever experienced broke. The cyclonic bursts of wind seemed to shake the station, the pink, forked lightning made the sky glisten like a shell, and the thunder was a cease- less reverberation. A curtain of rain shut off all view of the outside world, and the station was in darkness, except when the brilliant fiashes lighted it. llut the storm died down as quickly 30 WESTW as it blew up, leaving the road strewn with torn green leaves, broken limbs of trees, and slimy mud. The distant muttering of the thunder was now but an echo, and the lightning was just a reflection. ARD I-IO XVhen 1ny train pulled in, ,I boarded it gladly. I had had my desire to fish, I had played with nature in her simplicity, and now I was ready to go back to the crowded city, and take up my every-day cares. 'fri-'lGQ!CQDl --rf' Clocks LoU1s15 BAGVVELL, '27 ------------ N looking through the dictionary 5? E the other night, I came across the ? two definitions of the word clockg 2 namely-a woven or embroidered fi i ornament upon the stocking, and - - -' a machine for measuring and 1n- dicating the divisions of time by means of hands moving over a dial plate. XYell and good! Like ev-erybody else I have clocks in my stockings, and I use clocks to get to school on time and to send me to bed and to meals. .liut in my own mind, I always add another definition: an inr- strument to set ones imagination to work. Re- gardless of time and place, a clock always sets me to wondering. Suppose a clock could reg- ister the events it has seen in days gone by! lf our clocks at home could, I ani sure that they would tell stories more interesting than any that have ever been told before. They are all shapes and sizes, and types, and that is one reason why they are so interesting to me. The clock on the dining-room 1HZ111tCl is very old. A little slip of paper, yellow with age, and pasted just inside this clock tells us that it was made in the early nineteenth century, in Bristol, Connecticut. The once bright gilt columns are 11OW dull, and the Roman numbers on the face are hardly discernible. It has not been in our poss-ession very long. I remember my mother's triumphal return from a visit to a friend bear- ing this antique, as she was pleased to call it, and not at all disheartened over the fact that it had not registered the hour for at least twenty-five years. She told us of th-e visit to the attic of the old house to see the family heirloom, a wed- ding dress of some great ancestor, and how she had accidentally stumbled over the clock. l'XYhy, my dear, we discarded that clock years ago as worthlessfl the friend exclaimed, upon 'hearing my mother's admiration for it. I1ut if you want it you certainly may have it.', Thus it happens that our dining-room clock, after having been slightly reconstructed, is keep- ing perfect time to-day. Mother also added that her friend had been using the key to prop up pies in the oven. I have always liked the clock, just why, I cannot say: I like to imagine that it could reveal some mystery about the owner of that lov-ely wedding gown and that it has ticked away the years filled with romance and mystery. But who can tell? The living-room clock holds little interest for me. It does not run. Perhaps it was our amaz- ing success with the first clock that induced us to attempt the reconstruction of another. NVe bought it from an old mountaineer, an interest- ing character, for the extravagant sum of six dollars. This venture was hardly as successful as the first, for the clock would only run when wound every twelve hours. This duty was not assigned to any particular member of the house- hold, and consequently it was never performed. The clock is used simply for decoration and not as a time-piece. The painted glass piece that dis- closes the pendulum was broken in the early days of its history and remains so for effect, so I am told. Perhaps this clock has witnessed the quarrels between some old mountain moonshiners, and the glass piece might have been broken in a raid by the revenue men, But who can tell? As for alarm clocks, they are, in my mind, an- other necessary evil. They wake up everybody, but the one who wants to wake. Perhaps if Rip Van VVinkle had had an alarm clock, that in- teresting tale would never have found its wav into the Sketch Book. Alarm clocks are often a source of disappointment. Often when I have anticipated a good time, the clock has failed to ring, or more often it goes off about six-thirtv on Sunday morning. One of our num-erous alarm clocks is a Radiolite. It was left in my room once by mistake, and I lay awake all night watch- ing it. The mission clock in the hall is the kind that I have always imagined I would find in haunted houses. The slow monotonous ticking pierces the stillness at 'night when I am wandering about the house sleepless, but the one beauty about it is that it always keeps perfect time. and is after all, the most practical. Such are the clocks at our house, hardly worth writing about, you may say. illut I think that if our clocks should be replaced by new ones, no matter how grand, or if they were only changed sure I WESTWARD HO 31 about, our whole hom-e would seem changed. lt would never do to have our ,living-room clock, which doesnt run, in the hall. NVe never should get to school on time. And if one of the alarm clocks were to replace the dining-room clock, l'm would never eat in peace. Only to-day, l read about a clock in Strasburg, Germany, that shows the motion of the sun and planets and marks the minutes, hours, days, months, years, and even the most important festivals of the year. At every quarter of the hour Death comes for- ward, but is met by Christ who drives him back with a spear. On the hour Christ passes inside and Death comes out and strikes the hour with a bone in his hand, followed by beautiful chimes. Such clocks are the most interesting to the outside world, but our own clocks at home, each with its peculiarities, are more interesting to me. l llllll it fi alll Q. iffrkfy . 4 l . l llll J The Olzlock Scholar I AML 52,236 as s X lfiwa J il ? .,2 XT,,fStll'7Wllrlli Q S xg Z I - f 4 Th6 Tzu Oqlclocli Schllorygi '9l'llC4Q5i9'xNDPi-'4' EXCLISQS GR.xcE Cook, l27. which makes itself prominent IU the chaiacteis of many people lt is only human nature asserting itself, when a man offers a plea in extenuation for an offense, a neglect, or a failure, for it is truly natural that he should wish to minimize the gravity of the blame which is placed upon him, VVhy should he take the blame it is just as easily laid at some other per- fect? This is the personal argument of giver of excuses. li----------i HERE appears to be a natural 55 weakness for making excuses i I -' I K - . . , Y A I l !-..-..-..-! when son's every Take, for instance, that rarely accurate piece of mechanism, the clock. XVhat would people do for excuses if it were always unquestionably cor- rect? llow many times does on-e hear O, but our clock was wrongfl or. Dad forgot to wind the clock 7' Father Time is often quite inno- cently accused of flying too quickly. Lateness seems to demand innumerable pardons, since it fails to impress upon people the advantages of being on time, so the tardy ones lay the blame on everything from the bed covers to their re- spective vehicles of transportation. Some people have actually been known to have 32 WESTWARD HO cultivated a collection of favorite excuses which they use whenever an occasion gives them the opportunity. Too much study is the excuse of- fered for illness.-lunibago, neuralgia, pneu- monia, asthma, rheumatism, gout, insomnia and bodily aches, are only some of the possible ailments resulting from this overwork, not to speak of the afflictions and disturbances caused by everything from a cut finger' to the most serious internal injuries. XVhere death is con- cerned, however, the truth is usually told, ex- cept, perhaps, in the case of johnny, the naughty office boy, who begged for a day off to go to his grandmotherls funeral, while, secretly, he hurried to the baseball game, hoping that his employer would overlook his many cases ot absence and not ask, How many grandmothers have you, anyway P Only a treasurer can tell of the trials and tribulations of his office when it comes to col- lecting dues from some people. The usual way the debtor evades the collector, is by simply saying, 'Tm broke,', or I'll make it good the next time.' A visitor, upon entering a home, is often greeted by the housewife whose desire it is to exonerate herself by saying, Now donit mind the looks of things. I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. Even while she is saying it she is probably thinking of that inter- esting conversation she has just finished over the back fence with her neighbor. One great factor, whether an asset or detri- ment, dominates the lives of humans so thor- oughly, that their most insignificant actions are led or misled by it. It is like a little demon, living in the heart of every being, urging with that little pitchfork, independence. Some, it hardens, and some it softens. It often provides a person with bearing and character, but, at the same time, under the disguise of duty, wrecks many lives. This little demon is- Pride! Truly, Pride goeth before a fall. Two other equally important and equally in- fluential powers are, the forces of habit, and the impression of fear. Have you ever heard anyone say, HI just canit help itf' 'Tye been doing it all my lifef, HIt's just a habit. This person, possessing the bad habit, is immedi- ately excused. Hut fear is not so readily for- given. HI was afraid to, is usually given as the confession of a weakling or coward, and. unless there is a good reason for the fear, is received with contempt, or perhaps sympathy, if the listener happens to be a sympathetic per- son. VVhcn it comes to discussing the breaking of engagements, volumes of excuses could be written. Quite frequently one hears someone else endeavoring to justify himself by declar- ing, I misunderstood, 'II didn't know, There was companyf' and numerous others of individual invention. Somehow or other, the weather has an appal- ling influence upon some people, possibly ac- tually determining their personal progress. They have a mood for every kind of day, and use any unusual occurrences of the weather as excuses such as, HI can't work today, itis too gloomy, o1', on the contrary, 'KI really can't work today, it's so nice outside. In one's daily routine, one meets with one type of person that is dreaded, anticipated with horror, and is a bore to people in general. She is one who has cultivated nerves. So well trained are they, indeed, that they and their owner make the vertebrae of many tingle with a desire to asphyxiate this menace. I can't help it, the doctor says it's my nervesf, is the inevitable excuse which emanates from the mouths of these tender sufferers, when all they need is a good dose of self-control. Never, I believe, will people willingly cease to exculpate themselves by using that ancient and time-worn sentence, 'Tm sorry, but I for- gotfl and which, simply for variation, is re- peated, 'fIt slipped my niindf' or, HhIy mem- ory failed mef' It would perhaps be a good plan to have a memory course taught in our schools. In a lifetime, one hears an indefinite num- ber of apologies: Some of them are really true and quite acceptable, while others have no more material foundation than myth or legend. Rare and ingenious indeed is he who can in- vent a truly new excuse! And never, as long as the world continues to revolve on its axis, will excuses cease to exist. Still, it must be acknowledged a Good excuse is better than none. ZH ' N -p--41cQLfQ,!,'Q,nl-1-4. AURORA Eleanora Bowling, ' 2 6. The morn has come! With roseate fingers She wakes each sleeping bud, Then softly lingers Vvhile they rise. The morn has come! With gentle grace, She tilts each nodding head, And laathes each face ln sparkling dew. s, u - 1. X -1. mm. ' I. ' 4' : j 'Inu , , . . N' -- ... .m wma' ,. l. , X xx sv 5, 0 N - Y 4 .- N, WNW. .v un. ,W X N um-v...a1.x0 Nl -ul 1 .-.x ....--- 1 5-in 1. - + mm :Ig 3888333 il Jw 'I 645-w fi B fl JI Us 7 ' -ji 1, f ' x XX 'ff N X A v X xx f, W4 XX ,ff XY ff! XX x- ! X f nf N W, fl W ! m wig? 4 y 4' x'V, fffm fs f , fx , W if 1 W -?i I: .., X Y QW 1 V f X4 P T X Ny NN 9 . x H A 1- , lx THE I-IERU AFTER1-iIE HALL AlW8yS GeOI'ge Emru SoLI.15Rs, '27. HE fire crackled and snapped. Now it brightened and blazed showing the large oak table with straight-backed, leather-cushioned chairs on either side: then it tlickered and dimmed lighting table which held several well- just beyond the circle of the long soft-padded sofas, one on either side of the room, were barely discernible. The Hre blazed higher, and showed that long continuous bookshelves took up the entire op- posite side of the room. For some time the fire seemed content to flicker about the logs, but linally it blazed suddenly, thus revealing not of Shakespeare at i i 2 2 l ....- ! only a 'small bound books. Hrelight two only the steel engravings the Court of Elizabeth , and f'Shakespeare and his friends , but also a massive oak desk in an obscure corner. After this one welcome burst of flame the hre settled down to a steady, moderate blaze, which seemed quite satisfied with furnishing enough warmth and light to allow the young girl, curled up in the large rocking chair, to read. just as Georgianna, content in her peaceful surroundings. was reading a beautiful passage of Evangeline, a sloppy, muddy eight-year-old came in whining to beg for another Qthe tenth in the last half hourj piece of candy. He dis- turbed the beauty of the room with his grum- blingg but Georgianna never scolded George. To her he was still an infant-the last and most precious one. She gave him the candy without a word, and he went off to be the envy of his brothers. It was not an unusual occurrence, just the regular thing. Gleorgianna and Mrs. Brent always had let George do and have what he wanted. He could track mud in and they wouldn't scold, but if Dick forgot to scrape his feet it was a different matter. George could come in late to meals and nobody would say a wordg but if Frank were tardy there was bound to be an outcome none too pleasant for him. Oftcn the family pet would hide his books and go fishing. and although he came home soaking, nothing was doneg but had Henry done the same. something very drastic would have happened. As a result of this con- tinual favoritism, George early acquired an idea that he was better than other people. That was the one thing which repeatedly thwarted him in after life-he had such a good opinion of himself that he was completely blinded to the truth of his circumstances. 34 XYhen he graduated from elementary school, George immediately-without consulting any- one-found work with a farmer, and announced his intention to discontinue his education. His parents, objecting strenuously, commanded, requested, pleaded, bribed him to go ong but they had waited too long to control him, and he went to work. XVithin two weeks, however, he had been discharged. CI-fe had told two fel- low workers how poorly their employer ran the farm, and how much better he could do it.j For several months he stayed home, pottering here and thereg but doing nothing toward the upkeep of the old house. Finally, through Georgianais efforts he was employed in a shop as a mechanic, but practically the same thing happened-due, as before, to his egotism. This did not occur only twice but many times, and would probably never have stopped if he had not met Grace Dash. to visit Georgiana during the George's twentieth birthday. the house liked the beautiful, Grace came summer after Everybody in self-assured Northerner from the minute she arrived. It could easily be seen that she was used to wealth and ease, and yet she immedi- ately adapted herself to the simple pleasures of farm life. She. an only child, found a larger family very delightful. lf she wanted to ride Henry would invariably borrow a horse for her, and they would 'spend hours galloping through miles of country absolutely new to her. She loved the freedom of those long rides, and the silent companionship of the older boy. Frank and his wife always came to Sunday dinner. They brought with them two fat, dumpling babies, who laughed and eooed, whined and cried, interchangedly. They were the delight of Grace. ln fact, she showed so great an interest that before the summer was over Frank's wife was leaving them in her care, while she went to town. lVhen it came to par- ties, Dick proudly escorted Grace, and uncon- sciously pleased her with his awkward bash- fulness. But, although Grace hardly ever did more than exchange a cheery good-morning with George, it was George in whom she was the most interested. And, though he would not admit it at first, he was as much interested in her. Before the summer was over they under- stood each other's feelings without a word having been said. Two weeks before Grace left, George secured another position as a mechanic, and somehow, when she visited them at Easter, he still had it. During those holidays the family realized WESTWARD HO 35 for the first time that Grace and George were in love. and before she went away, they knew the two were engaged. There seemed to be a complete change in George. for he kept steadily at his one job until they were married in June of the following year. Nevertheless, although Grace had been the Hrst person besides himself of whom he had thought, and although he was devoted to her, his egotism still blotted out any realization of his inability to direct. He could work very well. but he could not do the very thing he thought he could do best-manage others. After the wedding George took his wife to a small farm which he had rented inexpensively from a friend. It was there that the hardships began. George could scarcely eke out an ex- istence. In the house Grace did much hard Work which she had never been accustomed to, but she was always cheerful when he came in, and never showed in any way the number of her hardships. He did not notice them. He was tired and wanted his meals and his fire. In time there were children, three of them: George, Jr., Paul, and Polly. All during their childhood times were hard. George boasted of his crops and his success without an education: but it was George, Ir. and Paul, who worked the farm: and Grace, with Polly's help, who kept things together when funds were low. The children were all devoted to their mother. and it was through her, that the boys by dint of hard work and slow savings man- aged to send their sister to an art institute after her graduation from high school. However, when Polly took honors from the art school two years later, George was still boasting of how well he provided for his family. He didn't mean to lie about it, his egotism had practically made him believe he had sent her. She was offered a position as art instructor in a private school in the city. lt was her mother who in- sisted that she accept it. Polly's regular contribution toward the up- keep of the old house eased things up for the old couple, and the boys began to have their fiing. ln Mlay of the following year they had a double wedding, and unselfish Polly was happy for her brothers, although it meant that practically all the expense of the house was on her. The few days Polly spent with them sent her back with new enthusiasm for the work she already loved. She found herself im- proving: and her position growing more secure every day. Then, one day she received two let- ters: one an offer for a better position, the other a request that she return to her mother who had had a serious fall. Early the next day Polly arrived at the old place. The house looked the same with every- thing in perfect order: but she could not hear her mother singing at her work, nor her father bragging of his success Q and the silence seemed foreboding. Then the doctor called her to her mother. She did not see the lively woman who had kept young in spite of troubles, but instead a very old lady whose face was badly drawn with pain. Polly's eyes grew dim, and she stood there silently stroking her mothers hair. Then the doctor left his patient with her husband. and led the girl away. Mrs. Brent in going down the cellar steps. had tripped, and fallen. George had found her unconscious sometime later. He had carried her upstairs and called a doctor. A fractured hip, the doctor had said, which requires ex- pensive treatment for one who has worked so hard for so many years. She needs a nurse constantly with her, tooj' he had added. George was worried, and at last he thought more of someone else than of himself. He knew he could not afford to give Grace the attention she needed, and yet his egotism assured him that he could find a way out. There was a'way out, but it was not George who found it. The doctor briefly explained these things to Polly, and told her the boys were waiting downstairs to see her. Downstairs she found the boys sitting in the darkened parlor, trying hard to make conver- sation. They stopped even those vain attempts when Polly entered, and for sometime the three sat in grim silence, each waiting for the other to begin. lt was Polly, who finally did. 'fl know how it is, boys. she said. 'fYou know Father can't give Mother the things she needs. You want to get a nurse for Mother and pay for her treatmentg but you can't afford it now that you have wives to suport. That's it, isn't it P They nodded assurance. Polly had a way of saying things plainly. fWVell,', Paul drawled, I don't know but what Dolly and T could come here and make things go, if we hadn't taken a lease on our house: but l don't see how we can now. Mother must have the right care, though, and I guess we could manage to do our share. l really ought to be the one, you know, Gveorge jr. put in, being the oldest. I could do something towards the treatment, but Jane's not very strong, and I don't think she could nurse Mother. Polly smiled. She knew they were worried. yet it was like them not to consider her as a possible solution. They had always spoiled 36 WESTWARD I-IO her. just as her Aunt Georgiana had spoiled her iatherg but she was too much like her mother not to see matters as they stood. She was quite serious and gentle when she answered them. H you two can pay for the treatment, then everything is settled. I am going to nurse lXf'lother. The decision with which she made her last statement surprised the boys. Polly had al- ways helped here and there, but she had never nursed anybody. Besides there was her art work, which they thought she ought to con- tinue. She was frail, and couldn't stand the strain. They kept adding reason after reason, but in the end Polly did what she had decided to do. Six weeks later lXlrs. Brent was lying coni- fortably in a large morris chair in the parlor. The doctor had just told her that she would never walk again, but the pain was almost gone and the brave old woman was very cheer- ful when her husband came in with a friend. Now look at mef' George was saying. Here l've raised two boys and a girl. and given them a fair start. Now my wife's laid up, and I'm giving her the best o' treatment and everything she wants. l didnit have an education. Polly there-she's just like me-- tends to her mother better'n a trained nurse could, and never had a speck of training 'long that line. Grace Brent smiled. She was thinking how little George had changed from the proud boy of twenty. Polly smiled, too. She realized that the success of which George boasted was not his, as he thought, but her mothers. And because she knew it was too late to change her father, Polly kept on smiling-to humor him. fr---4l lb--4, Tile I..llI l.ClII'OOI'I1 l Esrniziz BAITZ, '26. I----------i ,l-lli twelve-twenty bell rings! meal has been well digested, we rush to our fi There is a mad rush down sev-eral dance llOOl','i the trusty gym, W'on't someone ig- ii' fiights of stairs, and we Hnd our- play? is the universal plea. Oh, be a sport. it ii selves engulfed in a whirl of Susan or ane or innv or liillv and Jound - ? b . 4' ' 1 -1 , 2- 2 chaos. XVe bush we shove we the old tm can! Finally Susan is Jersuaded to il l . f . 3 . - . ,, . 4'- - - ' run the risk of breaking not only play, and accordingly the bell rings. lhe irony our limbs but worse still of breaking the dishes of fate! 3 3 which contain the edibles that are to satisfy our ravcnous appetites, lndeed the Himsy paper plate or the china cup tilts dangerous as we shoulder our way through the jostling group. XVe finally manage to extricate ourselv-es, however, and are rewarded for our pains by an appetizing repast. There is the soup,-yum, yum l-ten or twelve degrees too hot, but still living up to the good old standard maintained by all XVestern's soups from time immemorial. There is a sandwich oft delicious, rich mayonnaise with a dash of salmon here and there to liavor the original sub- stance. VVe have a cruller, the center portion of which we enjoy most thoroughly, and last but not least a Chop Suey candy bar. By no means must we forget this last item on our menu. A day would be considered an utter failure if the candy counter did not receive our patronage at lunch time. ln about five minutes, when this So day by day we go through the same rou- tine, seldom stopping to realize that it is in tile lunchroom where a casual onlooker might ob- tain a real glimpse in VVestern High School life and spirit. Here interests in and about XVestern ar-e discussed: here affairs not pertaining to school but yet ot interest to high school girls. are ventilatedg here our true personalities come to the fore. XVe prattle about the lessons, the tests, the teachers, about the dances or parties we have recently attended, and about the plays and pictures we have seen., or are to see. ln short, if a visitor should enter XVestern about twelve-thirty in the afternoon, and ask where he might easily obtain some information about XVestern High School girls, or Xllestern High School activities, or anything pertaining to XVest- ern High School, we should immediately him to the lunchroom. refer OUR GIRLS MARGARET COULTER '26 Margaret Coulter, better known as Pony, is the Senior to whom XYesterners refer when they say, 1 have a crush on her, too. She was so wonderful as jerry! For the enlightenment of those who are not acquainted with jerry, that is the name of the hero in Peg of My Heart. the play '26 gave at Christmas. Pony made a splen- did hero not only in looks but in action-but then, that has been typical of all her acting. Last year, as the f'Mcrry Soul. in 'Z6's Junior play, Three Pills in A Bottle. she was a particularly bright and cheery character. ln the Dramatic Club play, The Ring, she again showed her talent in the role of a handsome gallant and lover, Her splendid acting in these plays added to her active interest in the Dramatic Club, and her executive ability secured her the position of president of Dramatic Club last june. It is evi- dent, therefore, that Pony was popular last year. but since the Christmas play one can scarcely walk down the hall without hearing her praised. MIRJAM BAKER, '27 As a sophomore, Miriam made a splendid treas- urer for '27, and now as a junior she is giving equally valuable services as a member of the School Activities Committee, but Miriam's ath- letic ability surpasses even her great efficiency in such ofnces. fn her first year, she played on the year teams, both in hockey and basketball. In her second, she continued to play on these year teams but added volley ball to the list. Besides this she was a substitute on VVestern's hockey team, and played regularly on its volley ball team. As a Junior she has made both her year and school hockey teams, and Without doubt will do. if not quite, at least almost as well in the other two sports in which she participates. Mirianfs playing has always be-en so excellent, and often so astounding, that she is deservedly considered a good sport of whom not only '27, but all Hest- ern should be proud. EMILY BOLLGIANO, '29 lelaving puffed up to the fourth floor, the writer made many inquiries concerning the time and place at which she might find Emily llol- giano. The freshies seemed to think it was al- most 'impossible to find a time when she wasn't busy, but before long Emily appeared surrounded by a group of girls of which, one could easily see, she was the leader. She was not the supposedly typical Freshman, but rather than a bashful, con- fused thirteen-year-old, she was a tall, self-as- sur-ed XVestern girl. Emily participates in as many phases of school life as the point system allows-and it allows her quite a few. She is trying out with great en- thusiasm for 1929's basketball team. But, to show that she is not one-sided, she is also an active member of the Latin Club. Two more dissimilar activities could hardly be found. However, even with these interests, Emily spends most of her time carrying out her duties as president of the Freshies. Undoubtedly, they made a wise choice in such an active, efficient girl. Congratulations '29. HELEN HALE, '28 Although Helen is a half year ahead of the greater part of the class mates. 'ZS has elected her president of th-eir year. This is such a rare occurrence that one immediately assumes that she must be very popular. One look would be enough to account for it-if popularity need be accounted for. Her smile does the greater part of the trick, but one can not have a winning smile Without having something behind it to make it winning, Helens love for fun, her self-assur- ance, her efficiency, and her wholeheartedness, immediately attract one. ln fact, after one has talked to her a very short time, one feels that '28 was very wise in paving her the honor of be- ing president in spite of her half year in advance E. Sor.LERs, '27. -o--1c4Q?Qoap--+ THE LAND OF MY HEARTS DESIRE The trees are now blossoming in that land, The Land of my Heart's Desires, The buds are appearing on every hand, ln the Land of my Heart's Desires. The thrush in the rushes is building its nest, The lark in the heavens is singing its best, Ohl how I long for that haven of rest, The Land of my Heart's Desires. The days are all golden in that land, The Land of my Heart's Desires, The sun, like a jewel, is spreading his hand O'er the Land of my Heart's Desires The bees in the clover are buzzing along, The brook in the meadow is gurgling its song, That is the place for which I now long, The Land of my Heart's Desires. Hilda Ashman, '28. 37 H 1 EDITORIALS Editor-in-Chie f ELEANORA BOWLING, '26 Associate Editor CATHERINE SHAW, '26 Associate Editor MARGARET MORVITZ, '26 Assistant Editors ALICE BAMBACH, '26 ESTHER BAITZ, '26 BEATRICE GOODHART, '26 ESTHER OWENS, '26 CAROLINE STAFFORD, '27 EDITH SOLLERS, '27 CHARLOTTE HARN, '26 Art Staff COLEEN FOWLER, '26 ELEANOR BRANDY, '26 EDITH LAWRENCE, '27 AUDREY TAYLOR, '26 Business Staff Business Manager LILA GALLION, '26 Advertising Maizuger JENNIE WEISS, '26 Circulation Manager DOROTHEA FISCHER, '26 Assistants LOUISE GARRETT, '26 EDNA BUSCH, '27 MYRTLE GOYERT, '26 ANNA MAY GALLION, '27 EVELYN GROLLMAN, '26 BERNICE KATZ, '27 SARAH COLLECTOR, '26 LILLIAN WINFIELD, '27 MADELINE' Fox, '26 ALICE IVICKAY, '28 EVELYN SMITH, '29 . Typists ETHEL RICHMOND, '26 DOROTHY PAINE, '26 ROSE SI-IEVITZ, '26 EDITH HEFFNER, '26 ROSE GERBER, '26 JANET SEIDENMAN, '26 GOLDA SCHNYDMAN, '26 Faculty Advisers Art Literary Business MISS LAURA ALFORD MISS VIRGINIA WIGHTMAN MISS DELIA ALFORD ffm--dcaampr--,fi l T1zei'e is none like to 11ie, ' sfzvs the cub, in the fvricle of his earliest killg Bat the Jungle is large, and tlze fall he is small, - let him tliiiilc and be still. HCS warned old Baloo, teacher of the young cubs of the jungle, versed in ,lun- g'-444 gle lore and jungle tactics, and respected MA above all other wild creatures. The cub makes his first kill, and in the Hush ot youthful pride and arrogance proclaims to the jungle his power and importance, while the older beasts, war-scarred and experienced, laugh softly deep i1I their furry throats. Such is a situation that Kipling sets forth in the delightful Jungle llook' all through which can be traced the paral- 38 lelism between the habits and lives of the myth- ical animals and the customs of men. Hut the jungle is large, and the cub he is small. Just so, the world is stupendously vast, and the youth but an infinitesimal speck upon its broad surface, yet he does not stop to consider this humiliating fact. In the pride of his kill, he struts about, consciously important, and reveling in the awe and admiration of a few of his own type. Let him think and be stillf' For the silent observer, he who performs his duties, and often glorious deeds, quietly and unostentatiously, fearing praise rather than blame, sees more, learns more, and really does more in his way than he who parades his accomplishments in the glare of the spotlight. From his shelter of selt-se- WESTWARD I-IO 39 clusion he studies the characters of his fellow- men, and makes humanity his greatest interest. As a result of this reflection and study, he will, in time, come to be appreciated and admired for his wisdom, his sympathy, and his interest in his fellows. He will take the place in the world that is rightfully his, while the cub sinks, abashed, into the background. E. L. B., '26. The Nefiglfijiiiiggi 1-10 staff INCE the time is drawing near for the se- lection of students to serve on the Lit- erary Staff of XVESTVVARD Ho next year, those girls who would like to become mem- bers of the staff should submit to Miss Wight- man or to one of the editors, an example of their .-4f.3,gL,i-s .5,,.h.. 1,g f'.'f'. English work, preferably a short theme. These manuscripts will be read and judged, and accord- ing to the rating, girls will be chosen for the final try-outf, The names of these girls, with further directions, will be then posted on the bulletin-board. -J--v' GQDKGDI-+I' Alumnae the question What IS the chief work of the VV. H. S. Alumnae Association? A cording to the president, Mrs. H. Lee Muse: the correct answer has not been given. Try again. Remember one dollar will be given for the best letter, whether the answer is cor- rect or not! This time, tell what you think the chief work of the Association is, or ought to be. HIS is the best letter received in reply to ,,,. . , . I I ' ' U C- A N x's'v Afxfxffc Dear Alumna, After reading your plea in VVESTVVARD Ho I really tried to find out what the chief work of the XV. H. S. Alumnae Association is be- cause next year I expect to be a graduate and I confess that I know very little of the Association, . I asked lots of former graduates to tell me the chief work of the Alumnae Associa- tion. They gave me all sorts of answers and didnlt seem to agree on any one thing. Their may be summarized as follows: replies 1-To raise funds to supply scholarships. This is done by having an annual en- tertainment at the school. The Alum- nae gives half the program and some organization at VVestern supplies the other half. 2-To beautify and enrich the school. There is an annual Art Ifxhibit. Most of the pictures. tablets, and statuary have been obtained through the ef- forts of the Association. It also started the Library. 3-To aid the Co-operative lilureau in helping girls to continue their high school education. Funds for various Alumnae ex- penses are raised by an annual supper and sale. Yozzry sizzcvwly, WEsTERN1TE. Rufh Griese11'zc1f, '16, Goucher '20, is a mis- sionary in Jhansi, India. She is expected home this year and hopes to have an extended fur- lough so she can study medicine at the Univer- sity of Pennsylvania. Rose E. Foster, '17, was married last October to Mr. Robert VV. VVhalen. Thirza Niner, '20, now Mrs. Harry XYilson, is receiving congratulations upon the birth of a little daughter. According to statistics compiled last year the following girls of 1920 are engaged in interest- ing occupations. rlffzrgarcz' King-social work with the Henry XVatson Childrens Aid Society. ,Uary A. Li!.ri1zgm'-graduate work at Rad- cliifc. 1161011 Paul l'Vhifc-Chilclren's lfditor, Sunday Sun. Kfztlmrizze K. lfV0rtlzingt0M-Chemist. lfvclyu ill. KunzIwcrgycff-Fashion Artist. P, Huntley Hllflllflll-TCHCl1CT, Mary llald- win College. The XYestern High School Alumnae Associa- tion will hold a beneht performance for the Scholarship Endowmeiit Fund on Friday and Saturday nights, March 19 and 20, at the school. The fund provides scholarships for students of the school to Goucher College. Miss lilanche Schlichter is chairman of arrangements. The following program will be presented: Piano and vocal solos by Miss Sarah Stulman and Miss Selma Amanskyg selections by the school glee club and the school orchestra, under the direction of Mrs. Lucille Tingle Masson: dance, Irish Lilt and an Irish clog fdirected by Miss NI. A. lfoleyj, Virginia Cowles, Alice Snitzer, Frances Greenwalt. Eva Stulman. Thel- ma lllack, Nettie Jacobs, Elizabeth Vlhitestone, Molly Kroll and accompanist, Selma Amansky Members of the Alumnae Association will pre- sent T7he Sweetm-eat Gamef' a Chinese drama, directed by Miss Blanche Schlichter. ,3- -' af-fr - - A .f l l'l f . , , X x X lllbt ff l fv lnllllllu MX' ff f x ..r -f max itll X lil uul ,- -2-'E 1 2-A-E. vtfiifif.. ---- i ff!! g-Lt lm. tis.. V' l i . ,ffgs v - - .. -fb mmlirai. s 2 r' f Y X f X N , ' ' I If x e f Qf ' X X X Q ' . Z A 7 9 . Q, , jf f if x AX s li iffyf iff, , XX X I ' X, H ' f 7 x X s l f rf X , , K- s E f ,ff f ' , ,f'L 47' . -L -I ...f et. ll pf I ly' , ,f fix ' . X V - K 1 I, ' i f , I , K rig, Q my r . .X .x N ly V X 5 in I ,X -- c - . .5 jmjll fffiii? 4 f 4 Hmm- il - - -.emi -i f C K ' ls :iff se ff ' I 1 ,- Lil:,iw....1x.b..,mQLM....2 f - l ' ,.... XX I .legit-Ll1af3Qj? l5k' 5 f, i 1 ' l1h mum N se. Q ' -6 f I I i JA Q X'- i 'I 7 K :xx xx 1 Q ll T Y X ml I I l X 1.1 L sl' 2 1 Q f 'M l ,-2-5 .l' A X ' ff ' 1 --- 1-1-'-' . E' . -4 -i-f -'- 'r ART CLUB The Art Club members are now interested in the bazaar which is expected to take place early in the Spring. Each Friday afternoon the members will work on a special problem. They have already made some very artistic things. At the last meeting Mr. Slcutch, a collector of Chinese curiosities gave a most interesting talk on the history of Chinese art. He illustrated his lecture with beautiful examples of pottery and embroidered textiles. Mr. Skutch placed Chinese art three thousand years ago, and also told the origin of Chinese religions. On Friday, February IS, the Art Club gave a tea to the faculty. The col- lection of celebrated prints lent by the Alumnae Asso- ciation was on exhibition. FRENCH CLUB On Thursday, January l l, the French Club held its meeting in the muswic room. A Christmas comedy was given, and even though the holidays were over, the play was greatly enjoyed. The play was called Noel Edith Cordon was elected the new secretary to fill the vacancy caused by resignation of thel former officer. A Christmas song Que Chacun S'e:npresse was sung by three classes. As usual candy was served. SPANISH CLUB The Spanish Club held its December meeting on December 22, l925. Hilda Seijo, Ana Seijo, and Julio Roque gave violin solos. Little Red Riding- hood, a play was presented with Esther Maclit, Cer- trude Henilc, and Sylvia Rosenberg, taking the several parts. Estelle Mather sang a solo accompanied by Senor Alvarez. At the February meeting! Miss Hattie Adams gave an illustrated lecture on Spain the members sang Spanish songs. A piano selection and a solo completed the program. CAMERA CLUB The Camera Club members went on a snow hike on February ll, and the girls took pictures of the scenery. Members are developing pictures of the Junior play. DRAMATIC CLUB The Dramatic Club will present a play early in March. The play is, My Lady's Lace. The cast includes: 40 Father1Mary Stewart Purcell. Suitor-Victoria Smith. Heroine-Marie List. Nurse-Gertrude Stieffe. LATIN CLUB At the February meeting of the Latin Club Miss Kellum gave an illustrated lecture on Rome. Musi- cal selections helped to make the lecture more graphic. Miss Arnold is coaching a musical comedy for the March meeting which promises to be very enter- taining. FENCING CLUB Westerns fencing team did fine worlc in the Evening Sun Meet at the Fifth Regiment Armory. Charlotte Harn, captain, won first place with Eleanora Bowling second, each winning 5-I over her opponent. Mrs. Boyden is the faculty adviser of the club and Paul Kafss of City College is the coach. We are all proud of the splendid results obtained in our new club. The meet with Forest Park is scheduled for March l2. GERMAN CLUB At the january meeting of the German Club, the members were entertained with games. As the presi- dent was absent, the meeting was conducted by the vice-president. The club sang several songs in unison: a recitation was given by Jeannette Heer, and the president read a brief sketch of Sydney Lanier's life. Refreshments were served as usual. STUDENT COUNCIL A wide variety of subjects was discussed in the last meeting of the Student Council. The Council planned to have hand books for the Freshmen: these are to contain all the rules of the school. There will not be any excuse for the Freshies going up the wrong stairway. The dance, that is for the benefit of the Co- operative Bureau, was set for the 2nd Friday in March. There will not be car checks sold in school in the future. MATH CLUB At the next meeting of the Math Club there will be several Poly boys to show the use of the' slide rule. Three more meetings are being planned. On April 30, the Math Club will give its annual Star party and dance, which we hope will be as great a success as usual. C. Stafford, '27. WESTWARD HO 41 ASSEMBLIES Esther Owens, '26 December 11, '25.-The assembly on December l I was held as a tribute to the memory of Miss Susie Holstein, Rita Taft opened the program by singing Ave Maria. Misses Annette Fisher of l9l7, and Katherine Worthington of l920 spoke of the value of their friendship with Miss Holstein. Miss Laura Cairnes, principal of Eastern High spoke of Miss Hols- tein as she remembered her, l think of her as a stud-ent and teacher, who made a high record as a student. She was an able teacher, who made her teaching an intellectual and a moral influence. She had a sense of humor which made her wonderfully good company for her friends and family. ln work, the day was well planned. She was never late, and she never had to hurry at the last moment. She could not be persuaded to slight anything. Her school work was always done thoroughly and conscien ciously. ln illness when she went to the hospital there were no loose ends to be gathered up, no half-finished task to be completed. Her religious faith w'as at the bottom of her sincerity, her integrity, her conscience. Most evident of all, her religion was the secret of the courage with which she faced through years an in- curable and painful illness. We who knew and ap- preciated her, feel that her life was short: it was a very full, a very rich and a very useful one. To-day, we endeavor to pay her the honor she so richly de- serves. The memory of her personality and of our association with her, will remain with us always as a priceless possession. Dr. Becker, in closing said, Miss Holstein's was a beautiful lifeg the real tribute to her lies in the hearts of girls who have known her and have been influenced by her. January 13, '26.--On january I3 the assembly was carried on by talent found in Western. The school sang On Our Way Rejoicingng Rosa Kirsch, Edith Davitz, Mary Parker, Freda Friedlander, and Sylvania Abramson plaved piano- selections, Emma Baum sang Trees and Lying Little Daisy , Estelle Miller sang Give Me Thy Love , Selma Amansky Springtime Of Love , Minnie Viderman played a violin solo, Dr. Becker announced the percentages of attendance and lateness of each class. Margaret Gordy gave two de- lightful recitations, Entertaining the Minister, and The Picnic. January 20, '26,-President William l. Norris of the Park Board Commission gave an illustrated lecture on january 20. on the park system of Baltimore. He told the way in which the. parks are kept, the expense of keeping them, the attempt to beautify ugly old spots in the city and to build playgrounds for the children of the crowded foreign sections. All public squares and trees lining the city streets are under the care of the Park Board. Slides were shown of several parks and souares. Baltimore was sung as an appropriate song for the assembly. January 29, '26.-The mid-year girls, the only ones who have the good luck to have two graduations, re- ceived a certificate on January 29, signifying that they had completed the High School courses. Mr. Mulli- ken, a member of the school board, presented the diplomas. Dr. Lazaron was the speaker at this as- sembly. This morning, he said, is iust the be'- ginning of your life after high school. Every day is a beginning, and gives us another chance to live nobly and usefully. Life's cup will present bitterness as well as sweetness, joy as well as sorrow, achieve- ment and success and also failure. All are going to drink from this cup some pain and heart-ache as well as joy and exultation. No matter what life holds for us, to succeed one must have a sense of values. First things should be first, and last things last. Do not worry over little things, or crush out important things in the search for pleasure. Yout'h's dreams and hopes are many, and young people should realize that there are wonderful things in the world. ln worrying over non-essentials, we forget we have a soul. Enter the future with, full consciousness that first things should be first, drink deep of the cup of life, and trust in God tc- bless you. February 3, '26,-Mr. Herbert K. O'Connor, State's Attorney of Maryland, spoke to Western on law and order on February 3. The criminal situation, he said, is now compelling the attention of all citizens. The most important question before America to-day is how to obtain obedience to the law. Each year, America suffers a direct loss of over fifty million dollars through crime. lt is rather hard to understand why so many young people lead a criminal life. To be a successful criminal is unusual, while to obey the law is easier and more profitable. Dr. Becker an- nounced that the following day there would be ex- ercises held in commemoration of Sydney Lanier at the Peabody Institute. February 10, '26.-One of the most delightful as- semblies this year Was held on February l0, when Mlajor Farrington, a member of the French Army held the students spell-bound. Major Farrington is both a soldier and a poet. He came to Western as a poet. He spoke of Jeanne d'Arc as the inspiration of the French people and as a world honored heroine. He compared her to the American girl of to-day, she was athleticg she loved the out-of-doors: she admired all nature: she was very democratic, for she mingled easily with rich and poor alike: she was loyal to her country: she gave her life to the service of her country. Here Major Farrington read a poem about a dog called Frienclaviii whose love and loyalty to his master Jacquelaman was so deep that he did an almost impossible act to save his master's life. Major Far- rington continued-another admirable thing about Jeanne d'Arc was that she loved her Cod with her whole heart. She was willing to sacrifice her life to do what she though God had planned for her to do. S-he led the French Army, and she never gave up until she died. Here Major Farrington told of a pigeon that was sent wfth an important message over the fields of France. The pigeon was wounded twice, but it never gave up until it reached the camp. The school sang America the Beautiful, by request. Major Farring- ton gave us the words of another stanza of this song that expressed a more world-wide feeling. Nlarch 2, '26.--Mr. Ernest Carpenter of the Ameri- canization Board of the Chamber of Commerce, New Haven, Connecticut, interested the assembly by telling of the boyhood days of Calvin Coolidge, and by graph- ically picturing the people of Plymouth, Vermont, the birth-place of President Coolidge. Calvin Coolidge was by no means an unusual child-he was a boy of average ability, but one who was quiet and studious. Calvin learned economy as a stern necessity. Once his father rewarded him by giving him a silver three- cent piece with the strict instruction not to squander it. Mr. Carpenter told how economical the family was. Calvin's first long trousers were reconstructed from a discarded pair of his grand-father's. Evidently the alteration was not done by an expert, as Mr. Car- penter laughingly said that, it was difficult to tell whether Calvin was going or coming. Sometimes President Coolidge is called the silent man. He was raised among people who had little time for either gossip or small talk. Once two men met:- 42 WESTWARD HO First man- My horse is sick. Second man--USO is mine. Turpentinef' The next day the same men met:- First man- My horse is dead. Second man- Mine, too. Goodbye. M'r. Carpenter told of a ride which Calvin took with his father when the boy entered the High School, twelve miles from his home town. The ride was made through a snow storm, in an open sleigh, with the thermometer thirty degrees below freezing. We could but feel that this silent endurance schooled the man for the great sorrow which came to the White' House a few years ago. - After many more reminiscences, the speaker's in- teresting talk ended by telling a story of the old lndian chief whose three sons were sent out to find something beautiful. The first returned with a wild rose, the second with a piece of moss. The third son was made Chieftain, for he had climbed the sum- mit of a mountain to find inspiration from the setting sun. So the American people selected Calvin Cool- idge, their Chief for he, too, in a moment of uplift, of inspiration, climbed the summit, with the hope of searching for the ideals which must be America's if the nation is to endure. March 10, '26,-The meaning of song goes deeip, so it is impossible to express the effect of music. This was felt on March tenth, when Mr. Howard Robinson, accompanied by Miss Baldwin gave a musical as- sembly. Mr. Robinson's program of song was so beautiful and so varied, that his audience, at the close of the assembly must have felt, that the wonderful tenor voice would vibrate again in our memories. Some of the beautiful songs were: Kiss Me Love, Goodbye, Yesterday and To-day, Will o' the wisp, Land of the Sky Blue Water, Rose in the Bud. No selections were more enjoyed than Kip- lings Recessional and The Road to Mandelayf' SENIOR SALLIES Some of our dignified Seniors came down to earth with a bang, at the skating party at Carlin's. A group of noted Seniors gave us a good example of the spirit of twenty-six fsicksj when they came out of Chemistry Lab, after making some of the queer smelling concoctions that are popular in that place. Strict adherence to the point system does not per- mit Freshmen to place thumb tacks, point upward, on the benches of Seniors. Eye glasses on a frivolous Freshman are as ridic- ulous as galoshes on a grasshopper. No doubt some Freshmen wish the Seniors would imitate the Prince of Wales by coming down off of their high horse. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them, but the West- ern Seniors are the only ones of whom all three can be said. Brevity is the soul of wit. Probably that is the reason that so many of us feel call-ed upon to laugh at the stockings of most of our Freshmen. fNote: If these seem egotistical or self-laudatory, please remember-they apply to all past, present. and future Seniors., Ashes to ashes Dust to dust If the galoshes don't get us, The slickers must. The Call of the Wild-When the first floor is held up at lunch time. The Xvesternite may consider herself a first-class detective if she can run down and capture our lunch- room's wandering mustard. N. Jacobs G. Kelly, '26 B. C-oodhart. THE NEAR EAST BANQUET Banquets are alluring, you know. The Christian Endeavor Society of the Baltimore churches announced one to be given for the Near East. The dinner was to be held at the Southern Hotel. It is a natural thing to think of other banquets, and thus anticipate a splendid repast, particularly if you have ever had the opportunity of dining at the Southern. The dinner was scheduled for six-thirty, but there were speeches to be heard first. It was seven-thirty when the waiters appeared balancing their trays. One guest said, Suppose we have lobster salad. Another remarked, He was hungry enough to -eat a whale . What a surprise! The first and only course consisted of a teaspoonful of boiled rice, a half slice of black bread, one teaspoonful of stiewed apricots, and one-half cup of black coffee. We were told that this portion of plain food was all that the Near East Chil- dren receive once a day. After several more speeches, our party made a hasty retreat and a mad rush for a near-by Cafe. Dorothy Gaebler '28 WANTED A teacher who never gives tests. An elevator to the fourth floor. A candy counter in the Assembly Hall. A synonym for interesting and well-prepared for students commenting on oral reports. A full length mirror in each cloak room. An orchestra to play in the gymnasium at lunch time. A movie actor to speak at a Western Assembly. New books, so that we may use their margins for our own notes, without having to erase those of former students. IF WE3TERN'S FURNISHINGS COULD SPEAK The Desks-Pupils come and pupils go, but we go on forever. The Mirror-When l reflect it is nice to think that the good-looking girls do not have to primp. Dark Stairway-Look how many girls have fallen for me. Reading Desk fAssembly Hall,-I wouldn't mind holding a speaker's notes, if only he wouldn't bang me with his fists. Bookcases-When I hold their books, l hold their reflections. Marble Steps fLnchroomQ-Didn't l miake a hit? ART DEPARTMENT The faculty and students of the Western are very much indebted to the Alumnae Association for the exhibition of paintings in our Art Department. It has procured for us, from the American Federation of Arts Association, a collection of pictures for the home. This is the third year for the exhibition. Three years ago they brought to us a collection of Medici prints. ln the last two years we have had the present collection-last year one-half, and this year the other. The paintings are for sale at moderate cost. Prices may be obtained from any of the art teachers. The pictures are very good reproductions, which anyone would be proud to own. The school bought some last year-among them a painting by Titian which is now in the office. Most notable among the collec- tion this year are those by Titian, Abbey, Sargent, Parrish and Gerrin. There is also French's portrait of Lincoln, St. Gauden's Lincoln-and several of the Dutch School. Dorothy lVfcDorman, '27. VVESTWARD HO 43 THE TUNIOR PLAY ' .frm N l at ,WWW Y lFl'l' f'. .JAOQOA ' ' l y ggralwggt A ,O gfomfgwi-E , l 1039 tim 0 I l , X! ..v: -. . ag' 1, ' i iiliuvwgw' Fam Havlequinlpcarly lost his f llal when lhghc ch hrokc at ' 'x Did Pi rral realy lccl Um Dm: Rekcav I9 4p'An aff 71 pn or was it just ,T , ig L i f, Z, latin ? . ff ff , gg 1 I If x' qgg' QfZ, fa'gr l +' ' 'ff' 1-mmf Columbine was f e ccsislic thud angie in we l ztcrnl xrmiglc. I fl- haue: 17 JUNIOR DAY February I9, l926 was a gala day, a day when class spirit ran high among our girls-it was junior Day. It began gloriously with the presentation of the Junior play to the juniors and Seniors. The Harle- quinade, namely The Wonder Hat by Ben Hecht and Kenneth Savage Goodman was quite a success. This was due to the members of the cast, who played their parts so well, and to several members of the faculty who supervised the play. When the play was over, Margaret Thomas, president of the class of l927 presented to Miss Corbett, the honorary member of the junior Class, a basket of flowers in appreciation of guiding the class to this success and many others. The purple and gold banner of 1927 was brought forth, and the Junior Song was sung for the first time. 1927 CLASS SONG Margaret Gordy Our emblems pure and true Will ever soar, Standards of loyalty We'll cherish ever more, With virtue as our goal On to victory! Our loyalty to '27 Will never swerved be. May honor grace thy name Heralded on high May Western e're be proud Of '27's loyalty, With purple and the gold 5 1 assembly to another world, but their song will remain with them as will the memory of Junior Day. E. Wright '27 Contained in a School Noticeg Girls on the ring committee may begin collecting money for the rings this week. Next week Mr. M- will come at 2.30 to measure youl A SENl0R'S IDEA OF AN IDEAL HISTORY TEST Give the dates of the following: Vvar of I8l2 Tariff of ISI6 Panic of l837 Compromise of l850 Name the authors of the following: Townshend Acts , .lay Treaty Calhoun's Exposition and Protest Wilmot Proviso Calhoun-Davis Theory Crittenden Amendments Tell what places are concerned in the following: Louisiana Purchase Missouri Compromise Kansas-Nebraska Bill Where did the following originate: Mayflower Compact Peace of Paris Albany Plan of Union Treaty of Ghent Ostend Manifesto Freeport Doctrine Where did the following talce place. Battle of Bunker Hill Boston Tea Party Mt. Vernon and Annapolis Conventions Hartford Convention Panama Congress Rose Sacks, 'u Jfzrouqh JAG 'LOOK1 lG'G SS v l ffg i if ,,.M.g,, - T .3,,,.,,, , f And What Alice shedding great light, To U nd' The P9 On this our purpose strong and true if Reveal thy noble might. OKKJP' The song completed, the juniors marched out of the ,xi I fl if I I -,V I Q V, V, I Q I j ,C ' lf. il, ,r ,' V hall Mary was a flapper gay- ff 'Q fy X' f QQ. She had a little slicker, f K 1 X X 7 5 if 1 i I' And everywhere that Mary went ' , i 2 X ff' 'fi 'lib i That coat was sure to Hiclcer. Xe f ! ' fx! , f-. . , , ., . , , 1 ,f ,if if .lf 5 ff f , 1 f NW' ' Ag K 4 ,cliff fl l 2 . ,. She wore it 'top a heavy wrap 3 xi fl X Y l W Q1 All during winter galesg , Q A , W f f-5 ' ' !' ,I She wore galoshes with it tool If ' ,5 ' ,,. . V! i X4- ' , 7' ' The pair that never fails. I L 5 N 5 if' 1 l T91 . - fs g,fIa+2Elg1 4 ' ' f f' But summertime is coming fast, 1 7 A ' f- - f ff M if , . . . . 4 ,f , ,, . --- ,X , I jf! The slicker still IS cuteg 5 , ----V V! ' f Lg? , ZZ The heavy wrap discarded-butl E 1 ' 'f, , 4 'fi' She dons her bathing suit. 1? CJ. Y 'fir 'W f ,I ' ,ff Grace Michelson. Q, . ' -4- - 1 h rf . W, 'jgp if ...Y NEW EXCHANGES White and Gold-Woodbury High School, Woodbury, N. Your Literary Department does not seem, to be your strong point. Your essays are good, but the play, A Chance Acquaintancen is tame to the boring point. Your other departments are fine. Panorama-Binghamton Central High School, Bing- hamton, N. Y. Your panoramic cover design is Well drawn and your other sketches are good. Your Literary Department is fine, and your whole magazine, a worth-while one. Blue and White-Savannah High School, Savannah, Ga. , A paper full of splendid reviews, poems, and clever stories. Chatter'Box-Woodbridge High School, Woodbridge, N. A proof that Ugood things come in small parcels. Lincolnite-Lincoln High School, Kansas City, Mo. Rather less news than ads but an evidently well-conducted paper. American Eagle-American University, Washington D. C. A compact, well-written, though small paper. 1 OLD EXCHANGES The Owl-Evening High School of Baltimore. Nautilus-Greenville High School, Greenville, S. C. Garnet and White-Chester High School, West Ches- ter, Pa. 'V 7 Mirror-Punxsutawng High School. Laborenus--Shkolle Tekniike, Tirana, Albania. Cherry and White-Williamsport High School, Wil- liamsport, Pa. Renocahi-Reidsville High School, Reidsville, N. C. Optimist-South Side High School, Newark, New jersey. Owl-Vlfestminster High School, Westminster, Md. Westward Ho Y Baltimore, Maryland. We like the make up of your pages because they are so well balanced. A few feature pages written on happenings around school would add to the variety of articles in your magazine, however, the different types of stories are very well written and they are highly entertaining. Why wouldn't a small joke department be an ex- pression of school humor? The art of your school is beautifully displayed and we like the permanent Cover which 'is so plain that it has good qualities. Cherry and White, Williamsport, Pa. 44 ,, . Q 9 V' if Hi BALTIMORE EVENING HIGH SCHOOL NEWS It is difficult to say just which class or group at the Baltimore Evening High School is the busiest with dances, plays and other social activities, but' I sup- pose the Seniors carry off the honors. Almost every hour we hear of one of the meetings they are having, anywhere from the top floor of the building to the basement, and almost every day we meet one of the Seniors winding his way up Charles Street to pose for his picture for the graduation number of the Owl. Indeed much effort is being put forth with regard to this issue of our school paper. Let me implore everyone to keep his eyes on the Alpha-Omega Literary Society in Mr. Scott's English Classes. Carrying out the precedent set three years ago, the members are giving much time to the an- nual play. We will let the Alphas tell what is to be done with the proceeds-All must be present on the big night. Ida K. Fairbanlc, Exchange Editor. ATHLETICS As far as the sport world is concerned the fifth semi- annual athletic meet is ancient history, but in the hearts of Westernites it remains as vivid as on Feb- ruary 20, for it is the first time that Western has been victorious in such a contest. We did not go in to win or to lose, we entered the meet, primarily, to arouse a wider interest in athletics and to create a better feeling of sportsmanship among the various schools and then to test our prowess. It is good to feel, however, that we accomplished the secondary object as well as our main purpose. To most of us, the winning of the Meet came as a complete surprise. I might say almost as a shock. Even now the score puzzles many, for Western captured only three first places in the various events,-these were in the fencing matches, block race, and potato race. It was consistent scoring in all other events that won the day and made our total of 56 possible. Behind all this was Western's cheering section. Without that body of enthusiastic supporters, the Westernites, participating in the meet, would have been swallowed up by the superior numbers of other schools, but with such a marvelous cheering section behind one, one felt that her best was the least she could ciffer such a crowd of loyal Vvesternites. The impression one first received when they began to cheer was that of a million plate glass windows falling on the steel rafters of the armory roof. On the basis of noise alone Western certainly deserved the banner she won for cheering, and as for appearance-never did the red and black look so splendid to our admiring eyes. Too much cannot be said about our cheering section, for after all, it was the greatest factor in our victory. It was the spirit of Western personified, and inspired with such spirit as that, Western will ever be invincible. Ci. Shaw, '26. wp-:EN Ben IS AT nsv ERY B ST! Q' vi 'J 0. ' 0 ' H ,- V VV7 ' Y V? - 410713 'YI v f A ,S . -H m ZH Um H ryy e me y Q IS LJQ F7 U S nj 17 U A n n y rno QB T 0 0 e uenfs 'A 12, YLXX.d,,54! lou y when youre d ad Y O y and youre 3UrL youu g To be I T XOU ha .ix p To um alccuend ' S AND 5 nmnqv K- l-1- 0 0 I U I I . ,, , xc k2 .X W5 DONT OU ECI Lrut. he you wake UP T AXI5 C QUQUCEI7 to ragga iblwvylosr nh- 1L'VGVYH UTCD of Cl TI U70 777Or'mvy you have Io get Our: youv- Lure reef Leauus kqow you ba e to gf Q Gnd ,wh fo Schooj your bedroom lnppe rs one Too row qwqy ,1 1 , X I4 5' , if 1 X ',' 1 X I f wx H K ll I g. 1 HUA I0 Pwr you lr, On Worse. h Ort Q Ou qv-L Eb! OU qQt h dressed 'T' I5 ulreoay, you have fo SP7 cold mi ufe Qfrlr You 0 ,T have ffmg fo Jer. Yo IQ rush f1e.r-1: an Hmm-. eaf bremkfasf because if Tak-gs 30 nqfnutgg I 'X vm C, our Y To lie T sch ol You cirouchiiomc more, ' foo if 1' O Un ' 1 'PS f Q 3 your Ioniug. V7 in amd, gf . . K , X w ij! x ' , , Q 1 3 ' l 1 Q ' ' cfrc o q , AM , 2 q in QC QL B0 11 J pen 1, 1 h I ' qlnIlIQirand-,i,,CL Ti U ,,.fy-fN-- jig i LniI!! Y iw I , K K l gp vjcg X! I X X4 N 1 L xx ! fl jf! f mb, E3 H r - - EI SHORT CUTS TO LITERARY FAME EI ,. DISHEARTENING SIGNS While we were peacefully gliding down a beautiful concrete road one lovely August day on our return trip from Niagara Falls, We were suddenly confronted by a large, red sign which stated, Detour to the left. There was nothing to do' but to detour. The old dirt road on which we now had begun to travel was very narrow, and due to a recent rain, contained many mud holes. On the right, was a high hill, while on the left, was a deep valley, the road was really dangerous as it was not wide enough for' two machines to pass. There were two machines, how- ever, in our party, ours being a seven passenger car. while our friend's car contained only five people. As we were very fond of singing, we decided to make the best of our misfortune and started to sing joy- fully some of our favorite songs. Suddenly we saw an old covered bridge in the distance. We all dc- cided to sing louder as we crossed the covered bridge, but just as we approached, we saw a sign on which was written, This bridge is unsafe. God be with those who cross it. It is at your own risk. As there was no other way to reach our destination, we decided to drive over. As our car was in the lead we crossed first, but indeed there was no singing, had safely watch our everyone was very silent. After we reached the other side, we stopped to friends cross. They had decided that if the bridge would hold our machine, which contained more peo- ple, it would certainly hold them. Thus ended our detour. The exciting part of it lasted for only a minute, but I am sure that all of us prayed very earn- estly for that short time. Doris Lowdenslager '28 MY GREATEST AMBITION In the development of every girl's life, there are certain stages of maturity which create in her ambi- tions for certain things which are particularly ap- pealing at these periods. It is not strange that the same things should prove attractive to nearly all children. For instance, there are few who escape, in extreme youth, the urgent desire to be proprietor of that wondrous place of forbidden sweets-the can- dy shop. But this is not so inevitable as the actress stage. I might say there is no girl, with, of course, rare exceptions, who has not dreamed of herself as queen of the footlights. And less frequently of all, but not uncommonly, comes the call to the more ado- lescent girl to be that quiet, white, seemingly marvel- ous goddess of the sick-room,-the nurse. I have passed through all these' stages with the naturalness and fleetness of others of my sex, but somehow I have always felt that my life's ambition- my greatest aim had not yet presented itself. Then, some two years ago, I read Louisa Alcott's Little Men . Possibly it was the personality of the writer that gave me the idea to which I have some- how clung, or maybe it was just my awakening to the ambition which I now hold dearest. At any rate, from that time I have cherished the rather unusual hope of being matron of an orphan-asylum. When I voiced this wish to my parents they were shocked and disappointed. They had hoped for greater things, as parents have a fond way of doing. From my point of view, nothing could be greater. I have thought of these children who have been left in this world 46 homeless, without fathers, and saclder still, without mothers-these children whom we call orphans, and I have dreamed how, in the rosy future, lid like to be a mother to them all. Perhaps it is because people do not realize what it means to be without a mother to confide in, without a mother's shoulder to cry upon, without a mother's knee to kneel. Perhaps, I have not hitched my wagon to a star in selecting my ambition. However, we all have our aims-some arf: humble, some are great, but into all are put, perhaps unconsciously, the finest things in life. Mary Louise Zschiesche '28 THE PLAYTHINGS OF GROWN-UPS Playthings of Grown-Ups? Why, Grown-Ups do not have playthingsl Absurd! at least, that is what most people would answer if the question were asked them, Playthings belong to children, and not even the thought of them is associated with adults. Strangely, then, my father has a plaything, and he derives as much enjoyment from it as the youngster from his first electric train. As soon as father comes home in the evening, he goes to the radio and begins twisting the dials back and forth. Rarely does he pause to hear the presentation of the entire program of a station, but dials from one station to another, so that the evening's reception is merely disconnected snatches of subjects from everywhere. Upon logging a new station, he is highly delighted, and fascinated to the extent of leaving the dials stationary for, per- haps, ten minutesg but then, the fever of hunting will prevail, and the dials begin to whirl again. Does not this correspond with the boy with his new train who starts and stops it just for the fun of it? Truly, every person has his plaything, whether it be the baby's rattle or the elderly man's radio. Elisabeth Carril, '26. PRESENT-DAY OPPORTUNITY Liberal education, modern inventions and the ex- pansion of all kinds of industries have produced num- erous opportunities today, which did not exist years ago, Because of the existence of free schools, endowed colleges and universities, and the foundation of edu- cational funds, it is easier today, for people in mod- erate circumstances to acquire an education fitting them for high positions in the professional and busi- ness worlds. Modern inventions, with their development, have opened avenues of advancement to those trained in various branches of engineering and mechanical work. The expansion of industries through the centraliza- tion of manufacture and distribution of commodities have enabled the working people to assemble in com- munities near their place of employment, and by co- operation, advance their mutual interests. It is apparent that people are availing themselves of these advantages because it is conceded that peo- ple as a whole live better today and have more time and means for recreation than at any other time in history. Genevieve A. Kelly '26 OUR NE.IGHBOR'S GARDEN Mr. Reitner's garden is our neighborhoods com- mon interest. As soon as the ground starts to thaw, Mr. Reitner starts to dig. Every afternoon from five WESTWARD HO 47 o'clock until dusk, he digs until the entire plot has been covered. Then he rakes it all over and divides it into sections. This action is followed by lengthy discussions with the neighbors as to what he shall plant, and in which section. Always, however, he de- cides on lettuce, raclishes, onions, tomatoes, and lima heans. He sows his seeds and plants his plants with the greatest care. He watches their growth scrupu- lously. He waters the plants each evening with a hand water-spray. He trains the beans on poles and pulls every weed from the garden. From my sleep- ing porch, l hear him, at five A. lVl. when he leaves for work, discussing with his wife how a rain would help the tomatoes. To the final good-bye he adds, Have you noticed how the onions are growing? Mr. Reitner gains from his garden the same pleasure that a child obtains from a new plaything. ldelle Connor '26 Q f Announcement Ep ofthe I Poster Winners F will be found F in the Advertising Section p 1 L4 li i Flame On - - - Flaming Youth LAMES make the steam that quickens the machinery of the world. Civilization itself rests upon the benign energies of controlled fire. The first thing your chemistry prof. introduces you to is the Bunsen burner. Then, why under the sun, should We old folks pull a long face because you undergrads have lots of steam. It's WILDFIRE that's dangerousg those poor kids with a great deal of speed and no controlg most of Whom know right from Wrong but can't seem to help themselves. just remember that a true blue flame is always hotter than a yellow flame, and youlll get along all right. This advertisement jointly contributed to the good sportsmanship of the future citizens of Baltimore, by the postfacademic schools named on the opposite page. 'This advertisement i s written for college magazines, but ir was decided ix feminine student body could also draw gm lesson from it. sax NO ' ' V f WLEDGE Q A' i - own'- 'lml fl' figs N your more serious moments, stop and give a thought to the vast, uncharted course that represents that part of your life that will come after you grade uate from high school and collegeffflf your life is to be spent in busif ness, then by all means the end of your educaf tion and the beginning of your business training should coincide at: STRAYERS The Threshold of B u s i n e s s CHARLES AT EAYETTE STREET BALTIMORE 743-E, dfbkl-4-:Ts-4' I II 2 rg faq r, I le i iirrlg .l ll 'ffl l E jg .xi After the Diploma fffWhat? WASTED months, pos' sibly years, getting the Hhangm of the business problem, or immediate moderate success through a finishing course in how best to make your educaf tion effective? BRYANT E99 STRATTON College for Business Training Where Education and Avocation Meet PARK AVE. AND LEXINGTON ST. BALTIMORE If you Want the success of .i. ,Y 'Alf' W W , '14 -- 1 M EM 'i x being a part of big things A ,N .gi N . , train yourself to be an efH- . f , cient private secretary. In- PCI? Fld , I W E. S T W A R D H O SUCCESS Tl teresting Work. Good Pay. jfafnfn EE r 2 fn il zz le 2 1' ' 1:4 I A Select Business Coll gel SECRETARIAL SCHOOL PARK AVENUE and FRANKLIN STREET VERNON 0227 A Corciial Welcome Awaits Westward Ho Readers at HocHscH1LD,KoHN 3C Co. 1 BALTIMORE'S BEST STORE HOWARD AND LEXINGTON WESTWARD I-IO , EATO S1 BURNETT USINESS COLLEGE 9 6: I I WEST BALTIMORE STREET Baltimore, Maryland SECRETARIAL AND ACCOUNTANCY COURSES GREGG OR PITMAN SYSTEMS INTENSIVE TRAINING UNDER SPECIALISTS CALL, WRITE OR PHONE FOR CATALOGUE 9 Hynel' S Beauty Pa1'l01'S THE G. FRED KRANZ Music co Oil Permanent Waving, Marcelling, Hair-Dressing, Expert Hair Cutting, 50c 303 N' CHARLES ST' 42 The Shop where you buy your Sheet Music PHONE: CALVERT 0777 Victrolas, Victor Records :S King Band Instruments, Saxophones d . Ice Cream 8: Ices an LINDEN AVE. at MCMECHEN sT. RADIO!-A5 The Creanl of All Ice Creams phone, plaza 3732 PIEB, CAKE, SODA, CANDY Oxfords The Newest Thing Afoot for E, ' , Spring See the stunning new models that are stepping out at I-Iess'. Black, CHAR!-If STREET tan, grey. N. HESS' SONS 8. E. Baltimore St. at Lexington A Specialty ELSASSER'S Shop of Girls' I 335 N. CHARLES ST. ' -the O'NeiII Shop for Misses features everything the College or Jeweler and Silversmith High School Girl requires. 307-309 West Lexington Street WESTWARD I-IO Knowledge Makes For Good Citizenship The Street Car affords opportunity for visiting every part, reaching- the civic center the financial section towering office structures crowd-filled business thoroughfares Wholesale district busy retail shopping streets industrial and manufacturing developments shipping and extensive waterfront densely populated tenement districts closely built residential communities far-flung suburban home areas picturesque countryside outlying towns and villages RIDE FUR KNOWLEDGE The Modes of the M o ni e n t For Young Women l STEwARTa QQ. l BALTIMORE'S LARGEST 8: FINEST STORE Central Confectionery 200 West Franklin Street SODAS SUNDAES HOME MADE, CANDIES Opposite Y. W. C. A. OSGOOD'S Smart Garments for Girls 33: N. CHARLES ST. The Hub