Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Text from Pages 1 - 44 of the 1914 volume:

OIontFutB Holy Xight (Poem) George Eldredge Christmas in the Little Log Cabin Charlotte Arnold ... Anna’s Christmas Theodora Hengsler A Greeting (Poem) Alice Greer Quite Simple, — When You Know HowMuriel Oakeshott . . A Fish Story Dudley Bennett To You (Poem) Dorothy Staats Cupid Is Blind Rita Adamsen N ' agasaki Arthur Gundersen .. King Richard and the Bold Archer ....(Poem) Philip Dowdell Vespers Henry C. Thomas .. The Winning Tally Chester Post The Meaning of Art M. C. K The Party Line Philip Calkins An Incident on the Bay Phyllis Graham A Christmas Eve Picture (Poem) ..Ruth Gompertz A West Point Story Arthur Parsons .... Greetings (Poem) Bernice Jackson Nature’s Call Beatrice Miller A Spirited Duel George Gilchrist An Outing Grafton Carlis le Two Christmases Margaret Spaulding Lord Randal (Poem) Bernice Huggins ... An Easy Forty Rufus Johnson Christmas Cheer (Poem) Geraldine Quillinan The Treasure Noel Morrow A Christmas Wish for Yon (Poem) Minnie Chan Fool’s Gold Dorothy Todd The Message of the Holly (Poem) William Horstmann Science Not Always True George Hopping .... What Will Santa Say? (Poem) Isabelle Warwick .. A Dreadful Night Camille Haynes The Sather Campanile Carl Beyer Christmas (Poem) Melvin Stamper Sounds of Terror John Perkins The Revenge of Shafter Lincoln Soo Hoo ... A Hunting Party Lesley Liddell A Mountain Trip in the Swiss Alps ..Parker Allen The Tribute to Mumtazi Mahal Fern Hicks McKinley School Fund What Do Mosquitoes Mean Charles Woodworth The Man From the Almo John Smith -A Misapprehension Myrta Smith A Message (Poem) Irene Tusch The Last Will and Testament of the High Ninth Class A Great Battle Donald Kitzmiller . Seven Long Years (Poem) Marjorie Moore An Alaskan Dog Race Howard Moore The Jugglers of Ceylon Lawson Poss Bubbling Blocd Ruth Sorrick Night Nancy Lloyd The “Sissy” William Biddle .... The Lovers (Poem) Dorothy Pratt A Ruse Ernestine Porter .. In the Social World Eleanor Tingman .. The Twin Firs Dorothy Blean .... The World’s Christmas (Poem) Robert Thompson .. The Hunter’s Tale Muriel Durgin Editorials A Sand Storm Morgan Cox Holly (Poem) .lean Waste The Balloon Race Lyle Marsellis The Ghost Leroy McIntyre .... A Comedy of Education (Poem) Revere Hofstetter .. Jokes 3 3 4 4 4 5 5 e 6 b” T 7 8 8 9 9 9 10 10 10 12 12 12 14 14 14 15 16 16 16 16 17 18 18 18 20 20 21 21 22 23 23 23 24 27 28 28 29 29 30 30 31 32 33 34 34 34 35 36 37 37 37 38 38 HIGH NINTH CLASS. THE TARGET McKinley introductory high school, Berkeley. VOL. XXII. December, 1914. NO. 2 HOLY NIGHT. The snow was lying thick and white, And all the world was still, And through the stars the moon arose O’er the snow crown of the hill. The stars that twinkled that Christ- mas nighf. Were the same that long ago. To the shepherds watching on the hill. The Heavenly way did show. GEORGE ELDREDGE. o CHRISTMAS IN THE LITTLE LOG CABIN. A big stir was going on in a large house in Kentucky, and the darky cook’s children hung around the door with their eyes nearly popping out, and their little tight braids standing out st’-aight from their curly black heads, while they gazed with admiration and wonder at each big package or glimpse of tinsel A- gain and again the cook would call to them, “Louisa May, don yo’ an’ de res’ of de chilren hang ’roun dat do.’ Ole massa ’ll be driben’ yo’ all off wid a big stick ef yo’ all don’ watch out.” But the commands were use- less. for in a minute the darkies would steal back with their eyes bigger, and their braids straighter than before. “Sarah Ann. is Santa Claus com- ing to your house this Christmas?” asked Alison, the little girl who lived at the house, of one of the children. “Lor’ no. Miss Alison,” replied the darky rolling her eyes, “he couldn’t get down de chimney. He’d stick half way ’Sides, it’s too dirty an’ mammy an’ pappy ain’t got time to wash it.” This reply set Alison to thinking, and later she ran to her mother and asked, “Mother, mayn’t we do some- thing extra this Christmas for Sally and Moses’ family? I have my al- lowance you know.” “Well, dear, you’ll have to be up pretty early then.” “Oh, mother. I’ll beat the birds,” cried Alison, jumping up and down, and she kept her word. It was Christmas Eve at the little log cabin in the wood. Sally came in smiling. “Moses,” she said to a negro who was fastening a little tree in a box, “de mistress done let me off early, an’ look what Ah done made fo’ de little pickininnies.” She held up a pan full of gingerbread men and animals. After allowing him to ad- mire them, she went over to w ' here he was working. “Now, what undah de sun is vo’ all workin at? Yo’ don’t tell me j ' o’s workin’ on a tree fo’ some white children on Christmas Eve, when dey’s got daddies who can niake ’em deyselfs, an’ our little dar- lin’s aint got nothin’! Yo’ lazy, good- fer-nothin’ nigga! MTiat’s dat, dat fo’ our little picikinies? Now ef yo’ ain’t de bestesten man on de side ob dis year earth. What we gwine ter put on it?” Moses rose, his black face beam- ing, and brought forth a box, in which was a sled, a wooden doll, and some other things he had made. These he and Sally hung on the tree which they placed outside the cabin door. Early the next morning the little dal kies were out of bed, eager to start to the “big house,” but lo! what stood before their own door? It V as a little Christmas tree raising its head proudly above a mantle of tinsel and gay ornaments and gifts. 4 THE TARGET (Moses and Sally recognized most of the presents). The doll had a crown of popcorn, the sled stood ready to use, and best of all the children’s minds, a huge box of candy hung from the branches just in reach of their eager hands. Santa Claus had come but in what form? As a jolly old man to the children, for only Sally and Moses had , noticed three pairs of foot- prints leading from the little tree toward the hig house. CHARLOTTE ARNOLD. o ANNA’S CHRISTMAS. Anna was a poor little girl who had no father, and whose mother was a hard working woman. As Christmas approached, she heard some rich little girls talking of San- ta Claus. Anna then told her mother what she had heard. She said that thej ' were to put up their stockings on Christmas Eve, and that Santa Claus would fill them. Her mother said that Santa Claus would not come to her that year. But Anna was sure that he would not forget her. When Christmas Eve came, Anna hung her stocking upon the fire- place and then went to bed, dream- ing that her stocking would be filled with candies and good things. When she awoke, she ran to see what Santa Claus had given her. Her stocking was empty. On looking around she saw a little baby owl which had fallen through the chim- ney, and joyfully she hurried to show her mother what she had re- ceived from Santa Claus. She believed that he had sent it to her. There never a happier child than Anna that Christmas. THEODORA HENGSTLER. o A GREETING May peace and happiness be thine. At this glad season, Christmas time. And may your yule-log burn with cheer. And joy pursue you all the year. ALICE GREER. o QUITE SIMPLE, WHEN YOU KNOW HOW! “Well did you ever know the likes o’ that!’’ A bluff, good natured Australian contractor, newly arrived at San Francisco, sat down heavily with a disgusted sniff, and glared around. “What’s the row?” “What’s the row! Why 1 were walking round the streets of this city and being kind of hungry, 1 went into a place to git something to eat. It was a kind of a swell place, but bein’ fed up on ship fare, I decided to go on the spree, so in I went. I went past the payin’ place to get to a table, but bless my heart, if a good- fer nothin’ waiter didn’t come and politely request that I should step this way. Well he took me ri t back to the door and I thought he were goin’ to turn me out, and I kind of bristled up but he showed me a long passage along side of one wall, railed off with a shiny brass rail and told me to walk right on. I did for a bit, but that passage seemed to lead to Tim- buctoo. ‘Well ‘pon my word; says I to myself ‘this beats cockfighting. There’s every one eatin’ away, and me walking ’round outside like a fool. ' And with that I ducks under the rail and seats myself at a table. “And who do you think comes up but another waiter saying the same thing about ‘stepping this way, ‘well hang it all man,’ yells I, ‘what’s the idea? Where’n the dickens do you expect me to land?’ ‘If you’ll come this way. I’ll show yer, says he. So off I goes under that brass rail again. “Soon we comes to a pile o’ trays, and I’m blest if that man didn’t tell me to take one! ‘What, me!’ I gasps By this time my thinking organs were pounded into jelly, so I says, ‘Lead on, Macduff, and I’ll foller you. So on we goes again, and my stars ir we didn’t go through miles of plates set out on kind of counters, and if that creature didn’t tell me to take what I wanted, and put it on that tray. Why he might as well have told me to fly. How on earth could I take what I wanted out of those acres of tucker, when I didn’t even know their names. ‘Well,’ thinks I, ‘any- thing to get out of this hole,’ so I grabbed a plate there, and a plate THE TARGET o here, and carrying that crazy tray and feelin’ like a fool I makes for a table. “Before I’d gone two steps I hears a kind of mild hallooing back of me. I turned, and there was half the world and his wife callin’ me back. 1 weren’t surprised. Nothin’ short of sudden death could ’uv surprised me then, so back I goes and a lady perched up on a hen roost glares at my tray. ‘Praps she’s seein’ if I’ve got anything that ’ll be bad for me’, thinks I, but she jest gives me a coupon affair, (which of course I didn’t any more know what to do with than I knew what to do with a squalling baby,) and then I asked in a kind of mild despair, “Well now may I eat it?” MURIEL OAKESHOTT o A FISH STORY “Skinney,” said Bob,“tell us about your vacation last summer.” “Well,” snorted Skinney,“it isn’t much but I did have several ex- citing experiences.’ ' Skinney was the son of Squire Jones but it seemed his father did not have very much effect upon his boy for Skinney was often referred to when the boys were discussing fish stories. The boys were seated upon a bench in Skinney’s back yard and having nothing to do were spinning yarns. “Well,” again snorted Skinney, “did I ever tell about the fish I caught in Coon’s bay?” His ex- pected answer was the shake of Bob’s head. Skinney then showed a pleasant look and commenced by saying, “It must have been in July when the cods were running good when I was invited by Old Salt Joe to go fishing. He had a sort of third hand dingey and in this he made his living by fishing. “I had made his acquaintance one day while I was tramping about the beach ana he asked me to go with him. Well, we started one morning about five o’clock and made a good run up to the reefs. We fished for about an hour without any success and taking the matter in hand I said, ‘Joe, let’s go farther out.’ Joe nodded and I started to row while he took the helm. “After rowing for a good while I was tired out. I had no sooner thrown my line into the water than the boat lurched to one side and I was pulled- almost out. ‘Hold hard!’ ‘Hold hard!’ shouted Joe and taking the oars he pulled tor all he was worth. It was of no use, the boat did not move and as I looked over the rail I could see foam and spray everywhere and a large blackish- red tail thrashing the water. “Joe, seeing that it was of no use to row, stopped and watched the fish which at that moment was pull- ing us towards ' shore at a great rate. Picking up a large knife, I re- solved to cut the line, but Joe stopped me saying, “Don’t cut, youngster, cause he will have us in shore in a few minutes.’ I did not cut and within twenty minutes he had us near the beach. “The fish saw his mistake too late. We were soon out in the water, which was only three feet deep, and Joe, seizing the knife reached under the fish’s head and cut its throat; the water was soon red and with the help of some lookerson we got the fish on shore. It weighed five hun- dred pounds and measured fifteen feet; we sold it for |1000 to the Government.” At this moment of the story, Skin- ney was interrupted by a low langh and somewhat sheepishly eyeing Bob, he saw him doubled up with laughter. “Well, if you don’t believe it go and ask ‘Old Salt Joe’,” said Skinney who knew he was on the safe side for Coon’s Bay was one hundred miles away and there was no such character as “Old Salt Joe.” DUDLEY BENNETT. TO YOU Oh here’s to the holly, the bright green holly. And here’s to the evergreen tree! The days are long, the days are cold. But our hearts are gay and free. Oh here’s to the holly, the green- wreathed holly. And here’s to Old Santa too; For Christrnas is here, with its joy and its ch er. And here’s a, Merry Christmas to you. • DOROTHY STAATS o- THE T A E G E T () CUPID IS BLIND. The sun slowly traveled toward the end of his long journey and the busy crowds on the broad street quick- ened their steps toward home. The little birds with plaintive chirps, cuddled down for the night in their cosy nests among the waving tree tops; the lonely cry of the whip-poor- will could be heard from a neigh- boring fruit tree, while the ringing laughter of happy maidens sounded across the drowsy silence, and the crooning of a mother to her sleepy child came from the open door of the little white summer cottage. A young man with his companion sat upon the wide steps of the vine- covered piazza. He was a hand- some youth, slender and clean cut, but showing in every line of his slight limbs a hidden strength. His hair curled back from a broad fore- head and ' his dark eyes shone from beneath long lashes. But the ' girl, his companion, was homely. Her cheeks were an un- natural crimson and her nose was broad and flat. Her hair was combed severely over each ear, while her scrawny arms hung stiffly at her sides. Her dark print calico dress fell in stiff folds about her large feet, but he didn’t care, or notice her faults ‘as he clasped her to his breast. “Hove is blind,” they say. But then, he was a tiny tot of four and she was his dear, old sawdust doll. ‘ RITA ADAMSEX. — — o NAGASAKI. Nagasaki is a small, beautiful sea- port in the southern part of Japan. When we entered the harbor, we sailed through a narrow channel not quite a mile long. The water was a light green that blended harmonious ly with the ttrees and shrubs on either side of us. � About us were large storlts and pheasants, flying at leisure. As we approached we saw a large lake with the town built around it. Nagasaki has no wooden wharves, but low cement ones. Thevlake or harbor is sur- rounded by high mountains. When • we- anchored off the bay. large .mmibeys; of small boats came up to take us ashore. We hired a boat permanently, and the owner hoisted the American flag on it. After we were examined, we went ashore, and at the landing saw a large hotel flying the American col- ors. As we walked up the street we saw men and women making hats and slippers, and carving wood and brass, and other bric-a-brac. We got in a jinrikisha. and rode about the town, enjoying many interest- ing sights. Along one path winding around the mountains were beautiful jars of burning incense. This road we learn- ed, led to a temple, which we de- sired to visit. When we arrived we were surprised to find a long narrow building, at the end of which was a large picture of New York and the Brooklyn Bridge. Only my sister was allowed to enter with her shoes on. We men and boys had to take ours off. Within, the priests were having tea to which we were invited, but we surely found it hard to sit on the floor as they did. After living in the town for a year we left for America, the band on the Battleship Oregon playing “The Star Spangled .Banner” as we pushed out. ARTHUR GUNDERSEN. o KING RICHARD AND THE BOLD ARCHER. Come, listen to me, you gallants so free. And I’ll tell you a story quite true. That happened many years ago. And I’ll tell it now to you. Cruel Richard on his death-bed lay. And round him his counsellors three; Before him stood a bold archer. Had shot arrows at him three. Quoth Richard, “What have I done to thee. That you shot me with arrows three?” “By the faith of my body,” the bold archer he said, “You have shot my brothers three.” “By the faith of my body,” King Richard he said, “I forgive you before I dee,” And turning to his counsellors. He ordered him set free. PHILIP’ DOWDELL. THE TARGET 7 VESPERS. Softly and gently the vesper hymn rose and fell, gradually fading into a sweet, tender tone of prayer and pity, bringing forth a note of earnest appeal which inspired the impetuous spirit of youth and stimulated the tired heart of age. Casually thinking, you would pre- sume that the evening anthem was the work of the choir, but, feeling deeper into the undercurrent of har- mony, you would find that its beauty, its tenderness, the very soul, lay in the organ alone. The symphony grew stronger and surged into richness and power. Its tone rang out clear and strong, find- ing an answering chord among the chimes of the belfry. The pillars of the nave trembled, the rood screen vibrated, the music filled every nook and cranny of the old cathedral, then ceased — a tense moment. A low minor note came, — a chord, a note — and the congregation breathed again. As the old organist allowed his fingers to improvise, he mused and nodded over his keys. “What a task it had been! Was he weakening? Why did the pedals seem so far and impossible to reach? Had the organ bench been raised? Surely not. Why had the chords seemed so difficult to hold? Could he not remember when a boy had nearly burst a blood- vessel pumping for him? Why had the young minor canon insisted up- on his being helped up to the or- gan? Had he seemed pale or feeble to-night? Of course not!” And a chord flung out defiance, but quickly weakened. “Anyhow, had he not a cottage for Beth and a comfortable little income waiting for her each month? Had he not just received a message from London, saying that his last oration had achieved a triumph before the critics and clergy, and were not the arias of “Judas Maccabeus” down in black and white, and the great chorus even being sung by the ca- thedral choir? Perhaps it would be better that he lie by the side of Martha in the quiet, peaceful church- yard. Perhaps she would have it so.” The fingers relaxed, the head drooped forward and he slipped quietly into a deep vale of darkness. The choir had passed out and was hastily disrobing. The curate, step- ping from the sacristy, accosted the minor canon. “Where is he?” he asked. In answer, the minor canon turned and darted up to the organ loft. With his snowy head’ resting on hands that still spanned the loved keys, the old musician’s face shone like marble. “My God!” breathed the young man, and then he answered tlie an- xious questioning of the curate at the foot of the staircase — “A celestial vesper is now in har- mony with the old man’s notes and peace reigns.” HENRY C. THOMAS. o THE WINNING TALLY The football game between Merrill and Newport had just started. Both teams were well prepared for the battle and fought hard but neither side scored the first half The second half opened with a few changes on both sides. Jack Ridley, Captain of the Merrill eleven, sig ' nailed for a forward pass but New- port took the ball away and started to run down the field but a Merrill man kicked it back. So it went, back and forth, neither side gaining or losing until at last there re- mained but five minutes to play. Suddenly from out of a scrim- mage emerged a figure wearing the colors of Merrill College. Plainly in his arm could be seen the football. He started towards Newport’s goal. Somq one of the Newport team nush- ed liim out of the way. On he sped ; the stands were jumping, cheering — some one tackled him— he fell heav- ily on the turf and the ball flew from his hold. “Billy Bobscraft, Rah-Rah-Rah-Billy Bobscraft,” shouted the Newport root- ers. For Billy Bobscraft had secured the ball and started down ,the field. His fellows, soon rallied, . kept all men of the Merrill team away. On he sped gaining every step; yard lines passed like streaks. Billy began to weaken. . He shouted the signal for a pass; he threw the bail to Crawford, the big quarter- back, who, being sturdy,,, started on. 8 THE TARGET Suddenly he turned to his companions; they were gone, Where? But Craw- ford knew that they were battling with Merrill men, so on he sped. Suddenly the stands bellowed louder than ever for it was over. Yes, Crawford had crossed the line. Some thought Crawford the hero of the game because he placed the “pigskin” for the winning tally. Others say Billy Bobcraft because he used “common sense” and gave it to Crawford because he knew he would be unable to keep up with the rest. What is your opinion, sir reader? CHESTER POST. o THE MEANING OF ART. It has been one object in the Elementary High School drawing course to bring to the understanding of the pupils that there is a broad meaning in Art. Brief talks, the relating of in- cidents of every-day life, and short reports of the relation of art to industry have been given to stimulate thought along broader lines. A written test was recently given, divided into three parts: — (1) defi- nitions or statements relating to principles underlying representative drawing; (2) drawings showing the application of these principles; (3) questions relating to Art ip its broader sense. Questions in the third part were as follows; — State relationship between (1) Art and the position of street- car conductor. (2) Art and a street-car passenger. (3) Art and a spelling contest. (4) Art and a game of hand-ball, basketball, or tennis. The following is quoted from the paper of Henry R. Haines, a member of the drawing class. “Uncertain as the relation between Art and the position of street-car conductor may seem at first sight, there is nevertheless a very close relationship. ‘Art,’ as a word is too often used in a narrow sense to mean drawing or anything thai may be derived from drawing. In a broader sense the Avord may be taken to mean a fine fitness for any occupation, a clear perception, and a sense of the fitness of things. A good street-car conductor must have politeness, diplomacy, great re- liability and self-respect, and a strong knowledge of human nature, each of which is in itself an art. I have met at least one conductor who is an artist. I have met him several times and on each occasion he has shown his art, in little things, such as letting small boys with heavy loads ride on the rear platform (against the letter of the rules), and holding the car, which was behind time, in order to let one old woman make connections. “Art in a street-car passenger may show itself in any of several ways. A ride in the cars may be made more pleasant by a knowledge of art. Things that at first seem poor and ugly may be found to be beautiful. A more pleasant relationship beUveen fellow-passengers may be established by the use of a little of the art of consideration of other people. “Art, in its narrower sense, means drawing, or anything derived from drawing. In a broader sense it means expertness, clarity of sight, training of hand, and above all, love of the work. That must exist in the man and Avithout it there can be no Art.” M. C. K. o THE PARTY LINE. The ’phone rang in a little board office near the great concrete irriga- tion dam which the Atlas Contract- ing Company Avas building in South- ern California. A hot and Avorried foreman rnsAvered it. “Hello,” he said, “this is the Atlas Contracting Co.” “This is the First National Bank. We just received your check on us for tAventy thousand cash, which we are sending at once by Wells Fargo.” “All right, hurry up and shoAv signs of life, because the men Avill strike if they don’t get paid in hard coin this evening.” The Atlas Contracting Company had temporarily been connected on a party line and Avhen “Foxy Freck- les” a professional safe cracker in hiding near by heard the contractor’s ring, he had listened, and heard the conA ' ersation. Forgetting that others eavesdropped, he decided to call up his gang in the nearby city, and “let them in on” a scheme for robbing THE TARGET 9 the wagon that carried the specie from the railroad to the irrigation project ten miles away. But Anitha Simpkins, village gossip, listened to the conversation of her neighbors while she peeled potatoes, and for the first time since her telephone had been installed she heard something of real importance. She lost no time in telephoning the county sheriff the facts. So, when the Wells Fargo team left the depot that afternoon a posse of armed men rode about one hundred yards behind it. As the treasure- laden vehicle entered a small canyon it was accosted by “Foxy” and his friends, who had just arrived from the city in a swift automobile. The driver could offer no resistance but while the highwayman were loading the money into their auto the sher- iff’s band swept down upon them. Escapes were prevented by puncturing the front tires of the automobile with revolver shots, and the ruffians were all captured, tried, and convicted to a term in the state’s prison. PHILIP CALKINS. AN INCIDENT ON THE BAY. Some three years ago I was cross- ing the San Francisco Bay on the ferry boat “Claremont.” It was about five o’clock on a foggy after- noon. We had just passed Goat Island, when a lumber steamer was seen about three-hundred yards offi, seemingly headed right for us, or rather our path. The two boats were, it seemed to the passengers, rapidly coining at right angles to- gether. We could almost locate the point where the two would clash. Close’’ and closer it came. Our ma- chinery had stopped now and we were drifting. Now they were one hundred feet apart and still making for that point. The machinery start- ed up again, the lumber steamer only fifty feet away and headed to- ward our bow. Everyone on the “Claremont” held his breath. On went the lumber boat and passed by the stern of the “Claremont” not fifteen feet away! The passengers looked as pale as death, but the ferry boat passed safely into the slip. PHYLLIS GRAHAM. A CHRISTMAS EVE PICTURE The snowflakes were falling on the earth. The air was filled with holiday mirth. The Christmas tree w’as all arrayed From floor to top with presents laid. And two wee stockings side by side. Bulging with toys to the mantel were tied. The fire on the hearth was flickering; low. Filling the room with a rosy glow. But fast asleep in the room over- head Lay two little babes tucked snug in bed. Dreaming of wondrous things they’d see On Christmas morn on the Christmas tree. RUTH GOMPERTZ o A WEST POINT STORY “Might I be informed, my dear sir, what course you would adopt if, at dead of night, you were attacked by a band of Sioux squaws?” It was Mr. Woods, an old cadet, speaking. Graham gulped down his anger and went on eating. Tonight the plebe was to stand his first sentry duty at West Point, and the old cadets were having a good time over it. “And, sir, have you your tree picked, if the Colonel’s cat charges you from Clinton Ditch?” said another voice. Then Mr. Jennings spoke, across the table,” “Now, sir, suppose I was to come to your sentry post, at dead of night, and as a superior officer, demand your gun, what would you do?” Graham’s eyes blazed. “You mean without the countersign? Without being an officer of the guard?” “Exactly, sir,” — simply as an old cadet to a plebe.” The answer came in a low tone but everyone heard it. “I’d let you have it, sir, butt foremost, between, the eyes.” ARTHUR PARSONS THE TARGE T 10 GREETINGS. I could write of lovely winter. Or perhaps of coming spring; There is so much to choose from I could write on anything. But the sweet old words I’ve chosen, O so joyous and sincere, “To all a merry Christmas And a prosperous New Year.” BERNICE .lACKSON. o NATURE’S CALL. On my first hunting trip, I came through a small ravine into an open space. I had been enjoying the beauty of the scene and hardly look- ing for game. As I entered the clearing, there stood two of the most beautiful deer. A tiny fawn was with them. 1 could not shoot, for animals were too lovely to be killed for anyone’s pleasure. They turned and ran, but the fawn was separated from its parents and caught on a wire fence, tearing his side. I took him home where he be- came very tame. The little creature grew very fond of me and followed nearly every vhere I went. I taught him to drink milk .and he learned many tricks. He could jump into my lap and . curl up as a kitten sometimes does. Accidentally , I taught him .to like chocolate. I happened to haye some on my fing- ers when I petted him. He licked it off and liked it so well I often gave him some. If I put a bar of chocolate between my teeth he would very daintily and carefully take it from me. Nothing suited my fawn better than to get into a garden of melons. He loved to break them. He would gather himself up and spring, land- ing with his four feet on the center of a melon. One evening I saw a deer and heard the animal call. Mine heard also and started to go toward him. I whistled and he turned, then went on, often looking back at me. At last he stood and gazed at me for one long minute then swiftly ran toward the forest and we never saw him again. The call of nature was too strong. A SPIRITED DUEL. Among the hair-breadth escapes, experience by our American heroes at the time of the Revolution, there are many that are very interesting. One of these, worthy of note, en- dangered the life of one of our most prominent generals. This man had a faculty for always getting away with his life. During the year of 17.56, he was living on a lonely island in the Hudson, near Fort Edward. One night, when he was over at the fort he received a challenge to a duel, with a regular officer, which he accepted. As the challenged had the right to choose the weapons to be fought with, the general decided on kegs of dynamite. He stated that fuses of equal length should be at- tached to the kegs and be lighted simultaneously. The one who sat on his keg the longest should be considered the bravesr man. Finally the hour came, and the men took their places, each with a grim expression of determination on his face. For a moment, the officer watched the fatal flame flicker slow- ly toward his keg. As he looked, fright overcame him, and he took to his heels with all speed. The general coolly got up, strolled over to his opponent’s keg, and extinguished the flame. He then returned to his own and sat down, to all appearances, as unconcered as if he were on a king’s throne. When the fuse had burned as close as he thought safe, he calmly put it out. As the general and his antagonist opened the supposed dy- namite boxes, they viewed in utter amazement— two kegs of onions with the fuses attached. GEORGE GILCHRIST ■ o AN OUTING. Hurrah! We started with j)acks on backs, haversacks loaded with food, beans and what not, kitchen utensils hanging all over us, blankets cracking our backs, hope high in our breasts. We were at last headed for Diablo. Young and green we started out for experiences. We had them! We camped that night at Lafayette, . hungry as wolves, and considerably lightened our burden by eating a part of it; we made and ate flap- BEATRICE MILLER. THE TARGET 11 McKinley city officials. Upper row, left to right: Lucile Sleeper, John Moore. Second row, left to right; John Smith, Eleanor Tingman, Wilber Booth, Gertrude Holland, Lucille Barrett, Earle Lowell. Lower row, left to right: William Boone, Helen Trevor, Margaret Spald- ing, Philip Ramsdell, Constance Lutgen, Fannie McHenry, SherriU Conner. jacks which fortunately did not kill us. Our next camping place was on Diablo, where we registered and the roof over our heads was the star- studded sky. During our sojourn there, I captured a small rattle-snake and my partner a horned toad, great to our delight. When we descended into the valley below on our way home, we had the most fun of our trip. We camped on the Pine Canyon Creek that night. While gathering wood we noticed a huge sucker swimming about in the creek. We dammed it up above and below his pool, in order to catch him. Not having any fishing tackle, we tied a knife on a stick to spear him. Then the fun began! We shed our trousers, shoes and socks and waded in. The fish flew around, and we after him. After chasing him under a rock we finally speared him through the tail, then capture was easy. Had we caught a whale, we could not have been hap- pier. In this manner we caught four or five of different sizes. After we had returned to camp, puffing and blowing with victory; where we laid our suckers on the ground in order to make a fire to cook theni, suddenly we heard a tramping thi’ough the bushes. Wild with fear, we ' thought the game warden was after its. We hastily threw leaves ' over ' oiir fish, when who should appear itf sight but two kids. We breathed ihoTe freel.v! The boys asked us ' if Ve ' had seen any fish, and bf cbiirse ' fp ' llowing up our little fright we said,“No ' ! ' ’ The boys moving forward to ' leave the camp, one of them feteppbd squarely on the concealed suckers. ' The fish being slippery, he went fast he did not see what thteit’ him. ' Quick as a wink, I sat on the tish. After the boys departed, we decided that we were not fish hungry. ' The rest of our jaunt was rather uneventful, and we arrived home after tramping some eighty miles, foot-sore, with 12 THE TARGET paralyzed stomachs, aching backs, empty pack«,- utensils- still dangling,- and bunions on our feet as large as walnuts. A pair of weary Willies arrived home richer, and wiser for the experience. GRAFTON CARLISLE. — o TWO CHRISTMASES It was Christmas Eve. In a poor room of an East Side tenement house, a forlorn child hung up a much darned stocking, then bent over her invalid mother to kiss her, and crept into bed. Louise didn’t expect much, but she thought that perhaps St. Nicholas might have something left, when he arrived at her home. In a dainty room of a Fifth Avenue mansion, Marie, “a poor little rich girl,” hung up two silk stockings, beside the fireplace. She crawled into bed, and soon was in slumber- land. Then, preparations for her Christmas began. Her stockings were filled with goodies until they bulged, and a wonderful tree was trimmed. The next morning she surveyed her gifts indifferently, and angrily de- manded why she had not been given skates. Upon being told that she was too small, she sulked the rest of that glad day. The child of the tenement eagerly leaped from bed, only to find her stocking empty. Not daunted, she quickly dressed and went out into the streets to sing. Her sweet voice at- tracted the attention of passers-by who gladly gave her money. When Louise had collected a dollar, she considered herself very rich, indeed, and started to make her purchases. These consisted of bread, a soup-bone with which she intended to make broth for her mother, vegetables and fruit. A few pieces of a packing-box she found on the edge of the street. By one o’clock, she had the dinner cooked, which she and her mother happily and thankfully ate. In the Fifth Avenue home, Marie was nibbling at her turkey dinner, still angry about the skates. Now, can you draw your own con- clusion as to which dinner was most filled with Christmas cheer? MARAGRET SPALDING. LORD RANDAL. Harken, harken, my gallants so fine. Harken, to what I say ; Lord Randall the owner of many great lands. Was to marry to-day. 1 He went into the forest so fine. For to kill a deer. And what did he see But a bonny young lass. Combing her flaxen hair. “Be mine, be mine,” Lord Randal he said, Be mine, be mine,” quoth he, “And I will give you a fine castle. As fine as you did see.” The maiden laughed a silvery laugh, And with that did she flee, “Come again. Lord Randal, tomorrow morn. Then I my word will give thee.” Up in the morn rose Lord Randal, Up with the cock rose he; And he is off for the fine forest. As fast as he can dree. “Come, come,” Lord Randal he said, “Up and come with me!” “For you must come, and be my bride. Before the day shall dee. “Nay, nay,” the fair one she said, “Nay, nay,” said she, “For I have a husband at my cot, A husband and children three.” Slowly, slowly, rode Lord Randal, Slowly, home rode he. And he has shut him in the tower. To stay till he shall dee. BERNICE HIGGINS. — o AN EASY FORTY. Now my aim in life in boyhood days was to be a teacher. I had a job offered me in the West, and there was a bunch of bullies that had thrown the former master out of the window, and he had resigned. I agreed to take the place not know- ing this until I reached the town, then I wished 1 had not consented. When in a sorry mood, I signed up for a room at the hotel, I noticed THE TARGET 13 MANDOLIN CLUB. Left to right, Lawson Poss, Allen Hargear, Fred Edinger, Standish Donogh, Amelia Bernard, Elizabeth Mclndoe, Tom McGuire. the name, John P. Bailey, Boston, Mass., on the register. I decided to see him for I was mighty lonesome. I knocked at Room 36 and in res- ponse to my knock a tall muscular fellow seized my hand. 1 told him that I had conesnted to take the school and I wished now 1 had not. He agreed to help me out of my troubles. At eight-forty I went to the Turn- pike”, as the school was called, and prepared for the day. At nine o’clock when 1 rapped for order, the pupils took their seats. A trustee introduced me, put the school on its nonor and then took his way homeward. Along the back row of seats were the boys, and it did not take me long to know that trouble was brew- ing. Thinking it best to know the names of my charges, 1 had a girl go to the blackboard and place the names according to the seating. Suddenly I saw a hand go up in the room and a large spitball splash upon the blackboard. The battle was on and I knew it. The thrower was the largest boy in the school. Bill Davis. I ordered him to come and pick up the missile and toss it out the window. He did not budge. I told him he had just one minute in which to act and after that I would force him to do it. Still he sat motionless, sullen and stubborn-looking. Thirty seconds” I called, and in truth it was a tense minute in the schoolroom. Just then the outer door flew open with a bang, and in stalked a big, burly, disreputable-looking hobo. Hello, teacher, gimme a dime, will you?” he shouted as he advanced towards me. Get out of here,” I commanded angrily. Fve got no dime for you. You are interrupting our school work. Get out. 1 say.” Don ' t get too gay, little chap,” he returned insolently, shaking a huge, clenched fist in my face. “You gi- mme ten cents, else something’ll happen here.” T will give you just one minute to leave this room,” I vowed firmly 14 THE TARGET between tightly clenched teeth.“lf you ate not out of here then I will put you out.” Deliberately the tramp stepped up and sat in my chair. He glared at me and I at him. “The minute is up, sir, Will you go or not?” “I’ll stay,” was the answer. Instantly oft came my coat. The tramp had not even removed his slouch hat and, for a starter, with a quick sweep of my hand I sent his hat into the far corner on the floor. “You little insignificant rat, take that,” he roared, and leaping on both feet, his clenched right hand shot forth with terrific force, but I was spry and dodged it with ease. I was no match for him as he was 6 ft. - 2. anyway and I only 5 ft. — 7. We locked together in each other’s arms and struggled for supremacy. At first he hushed me nearer and nearer the window, but in wrestling as in all other sports you need wind; he was winded. Finally just abreast the door, the tramp was thrown on his knees. In an instant I had the door thrown open and throwing myself against the culprit, I sent him out. Rushing across the floor, I picked up his headpiece and sent it sailing after him, calling out, “come back when you want another dime, won’t you?” “Which boy will be good enough to get me a cup of water?” I asked as I again took the platform and donned my coat, breathless and well given out. Big Bill Davis was on his feet in an instant. “I will, sir,” he called and in passing the blackboard he stooped and picked up the missile he had thrown and tossed it out the window. Upon returning with the tin cup of water he looked me squarely in the face and said. ' Tm glad you woo, I be honestly. You ain’t no milksop, you aint.” Then turning to his band he called out. “say kids let’s give the schoolmaster three times three and a tiger, he’s all right.” RUFUS .JOHNSON. o Mr. Cobert explaining a Latin con- struction; “When I’m eating pie. I’m happy.” CHRISTMAS CHEER. Darkness covered all the world. When suddenly a sound was heard; A sound that gladdened every ear. Was echoed from afar and near. “Rejoice! “rejoice!” it seemed to say, “Rejoice! rejoice! ’tis Christmas day.” ness. Now, all was changed from woe and sadness, The world seemed clothed in peace and gladness. GERALDINE QUILLINAN. o THE TREASURE. There is a certain hill region in California which is noted as the haunt of robbers in early days. In this region are many tunnels to which the robbers are supposed to have brought their loot and buried it. Many have tried to find their treas- ures and some poor people have become suddenly and mysteriously rich. At any rate, to the younger members of this community the treasures are realitites, to the older, merely jokes. One day, as some boys were play- ing cross-tag, the one who was being chased was crossed, and, in looking back, stumbled and fell. His head bumped on something hard which felt like wood, and on close examination it proved to be a trap-door. All excitement, he pulled it up, and the light feebly disclosed a badly con- structed staircase. He looked around and seeing that the boys had not yet noticed him, he slowly descended the stairs. When he was almost at the bottom his foot slipped and he fell, and was surrounded on all sides, to the right and to the left of him by — mushrooms. His treasure was but mushrooms, and treasure cave a mushroom tunnel, the trap-door of which had been covered with sod by a wise owner. NOEL MORROW. o — A CHRISTMAS WISH FOR YOU. May the friends you love so dear. Round about you gather near. Make your Christmas day so bright That your heart glows with delight. MINNIE CHAN. THE TARGET 15 ORCHESTRA. Upper row, left to right: Arthur Gunderson, Robert Edgar, Harold Woolsey, Robert McCullough, George Gilchrist, Lucian Eastland, Jean Waste, Miss Ellerhorst (conductor). Second row, left to right: Frances Phillips, Constance Lutgen, Dorothy Sawyer, Walter St. John, Victor Bigelow, Blanche Tomaire, Mildred La ird,- Kenneth Graham, Eleanor Weber, Charles Whitworth. Lower row, left to right: Ruth Scotford, Ashley Hill, Lawrence Kett, Sherrill Conner, Edward Derby, Edward Borgstrom, Marjorie Bond. FOOL’S GOLD. The room, richly hung, heavy in its richness, seemed to extend on all sides to black voids, limitless spaces. The half glow of the nurse’s night light seemed aeons of distance away, the nurse — a creature of another world. The old man felt utterly a- lone in a black nothingness on a big four-poster bed. He started to call, but shut his eyes with the help- lessness of the very ill. He opened them again to find the space before him filled with a hard, dazzling light, blackening the dark- ness round. Floating in the radiance, appeared to be a flaming sword, but as he looked, clammy with fear, he saw it become a woman, dressed as the Greek Gods, but her girdle twined of moving, hissing snakes. Her eyes were bright and wild, and her left breast, — her heart, was gone. “Who comes?” the old man breathed so still his breath, it seemed but a thought. “Gold!” screamed the specter, and yet it seemed to make no sound. “Gold! Know you me not? I am that for which you have toiled, that for which you have lived, that for which you have wasted, crushed, de- stroyed all that was good in your life, — happiness, respect, love!” “No, no!” the old man whispered. “Such loyalty can but earn its just rewards. — Come! ” She held out glittering arms, the snakes, writhing upwards, fastened themselves on the old man’s throat. “Celia— my wife,” the old man panted, “my children, — help!” “Gone, all gone,” the specter re- plied, “deserted for me.” 16 THE TARGET “Oh, God, niy mother!” With her name came a smile of wonderful con- tent and the quivering old man lay still. The nurse raised her eyes to the doctor. “Gone,” he repeated. DOROTHY TODD. o THE MESSAGE OF THE HOLLY The holly that blooms ’round the Christmas time. With foliage of bright green hue. Intermingled with red and Yuletime cheer. Gives to life a color anew. And when by the hearth many glad hearts do sing. In the midst of the Christmas cheer. The holly, a message of love does impart And makes every life more dear. WI LLIAM HORSTMANX o SCIENCE NOT ALWAYS TRUE. (A True Incident) In the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in the wonderful valley of the Kern, around a bright, blazing campfire heaped with huge logs sat in a large circle that well-known order, the Sierra Club- The fire cast a ruddy glow on faces young and middle-aged, not sad or troubled faces but happy and laughing, One never is sad or unhappy in the mountains. The fact is ' one never has time to get that way be- cause everything is so wonderful and beautiful. Someone in this laughing circle suggested to Dr. Collins, a geo- logist, tell them something of the history of the country they v.ere now in. Dr. Collins, being perfectlj ' a- greeable, arose and stood for a mo- ment thinking of what he would say, then began with a deep scientific ' . oice. “I have decided to explain how the lake, which is . in this valley and is called Kern Lake was formed. Many years ago, perhaps a thousand, there was a great earthquake caused by the shifting of a rift in the earth. This earthquake was of such a char- acter that it did not extend over more than fifty mtles square. The heaviest part of this earthquake was at the foot of this lake causing the em- bankment which you now see. The water then filled the lake to its present condition.” Just then an old packer who was packing for the party turned to his companion with an amused smile playing about his lips. “Did you hear what that feller was a-saying?” he said with a well-aimed poke at Jim’s ribs. “Yes, what of it?” replied Jim in- quisitively. “Why,” returned the other,“all that junk about earthquakes wasn’t true at all. I was here when that there lake was formed. A monstrous land- slide come down from old Round Top. I tell you it like to scared me plumb out of my wits.” GEORGE HOPPING. o WHAT WILL SANTA SAY? Last year a slight complaint he made Santa so round and full of glee. Because he feared he’d need some aid To get down the small gas stove to me. I wonder what he’ll say this year, Santa the good and kind old sire. He’ll rave, and fret and scold I fear. To see just only ’lectric wire. ISABELLE WARWICK. o A DREADFUL NIGHT. It was in vacation and in a lonely mountain valley that I spent this awful night. Father had gone to town to meet the train on which mother was coining. It had been arranged that a neighbor was to stay with me till he got back. We spent the afternoon quite cheerfully: she told me of all the exciting adventures of her child- hood and of the superstitions of her old negro mammy. It was late in the afternoon when suddenly her eldest son rushed up to the door and said the baby was ill and they didn ' t know what was the matter with it. His mother THE TARGET 17 did not want to leave me alone but as someone had to stay at our house, I made up my mind to be a heroine and sacrifice my own feelings for the baby. 1 said I was not timid and for her to go. I was not afraid ’till I saw her form slowly change to a speck in the distance: then a sudden fear took hold of me, but I tried to throw it off. To occupy my mind I sat down by a window and began reading “The Black Cat” by Poe. As it is one of the spookiest books ever written, I became interested and did not realize how long I had read, till, looking up, I saw that the side of the room without windows was dark and I was strain- ing my eyes to read. I turned on the electric light; it flickered and went out. I tried every light in the house, but they were all out. Then I ransacked all the shelves and boxes but not a candle was to be found. When my search was over, it was pitch dark. S-h-h-h! What was that? Surely someone walking outside. I stood tense, listening but it was not repeated. Just as I drew a breath of relief, a long weird howl startled me again. My common sense told me it was only a wolf holding a mysterious conversation with the moon, but then I remem- bered the superstition that a dog howling means a death soon. I argued then that a wolf was not quite a dog so it would not apply here. The clock began to strike eigh t; it startled me. Then the most awful noise began. It was in the kitchen surely. I decided to go out and face it, but I never ex- pected to return. I pulled open the door and peered in. An awful silence and then it began again, right beside me. Certainly it was in the bread can. I opened it and saw a little black shadow jumping up and down. It was a mouse, but oh! it was so good just to know that some living thing was near me. I turned around and a cold terror crept over me for there calmly sitting in the corner was an old ugly-faced woman, wearing a sun- bonnet. After what seemed like half an hour of perfect stillness, I walked over and peered closer. It proved to be only a sunbonnet and an apron hung over the back of a chair. I sat down and waited for what should come next. Every little noise startled me and all the superstitions and ghost stories I had ever heard came flocking to my mind. After sitting there, every minute seeming longer, someone tried the door and then knocked. I held my breath and called in rather strained tones, “Who is it?” “Just us,” answered a familiar voice. Well, then you 4tnow how I felt. CAMILLE HAYNES. o THE SATHER CAMPANILE. Campanili were first used in the early part of the Christian era, as bell towers for churches. Later, in a few cases, they were used to call the people of a town to assembly. Usually churches have only one, but some have two such towers. They are built either entirely separate from the church, or separate, and connected by an arcade, or as part of the church itself. There are several types of campanili, round, square and sometimes octagonal. The leaning tower of Pisa is a famous example of the round type. The Sather Campanile is of the square type. The foundation rests on solid bed rock. The tower has been made earthquake proof, by the bracing of every other floor instead of all of them. It will be covered with granite up to the pyramid and that will be coverel with marble. The elevator will go up to the floor be- neath the belfry floor or belvedere. From this belvedere a fine view of the bay cities will be possible. The chimes are to be hung from a ring which is fastened to the top of the belvedere. From the ground to the bronze lantern at the top it is 302 feet as compared to 396 feet, the height of the highest campanile in the world. Now and in years to come the cam- panile will mean more than a build- ing to the students of the U. C. It is the heart of their alma mater. 18 T H E T A K G E T It will lift their hopes and thoughts to things that are higher and better. It has no classrooms like the other buildings. It is a tower of beauty and inspiration. Its clock and bells will warn them of the passing hours and its lantern will be a beacon at night. If the campanile means anything more than a white tower to the people outside of the university, it must mean to the students “the spirit of the university.” CARL BElfER. CHRISTMAS The peace that comes at Christmas time, Envelops all the earth; And over hill and dale and wood. Are signs of Christmas mirth. In every humble cottage small. The Christmas spirit rules. And in the frosty morning’s light The trees ore decked with jewels. MELVIN STAMPER o SOUNDS OF TERROR. “What happened to Ed?” asked all the boys who were sitting around the mess table at the United States Naval Academy. “He is in a bad fix,” said the football captain, to whom they had spoken. “Poor fel- low, he is still out of his head. Ed was a quarter-back on the navy eleven, and had been kicked in the head in the army game. He never fully recovered from it. After many days, the doctor said that he could go back, the following evening to his daily routine. He seemed to be better, but once In a while he would have a fit. One night, about eleven-thirty, all the boys were awakened by a ter- rible scream. They collected in the hall to see what was the matter. Again and again the awful scream was heard, followed by dismal groans. The shriek was again sound- ed and seemed to come from the top of the building. Once more the cry of terror, and it appeared to come from the third floor. The boys were frightened stiff, none dat- ing to move. gain the frightful scream was heard, and it seemed to be right upon them. Then it seemed to COliie from below. Ten minutes passed and the boys heard no more, So they returned to their beds, but not one of them slept a wink till morn- ing. One midshipman named George Wall went to Ed’s room. But no Ed was there. Then it dawned upon him that Ed did the screaming. He hurried to the basement and there found poor Ed lying on the floor unconscious, beside a small door that opened into a sort of a closet. George notic ed this door and decided to find out its use in the morning. He carried Ed back to his room and nursed him until he became conscious again. George then went back to his room. The next morning George went to the very top of the building and here saw a rope hanging in the ven- tilating tower. He pulled up the rope and found a chair tied to its end. This had been used to repair the ventilating tower. George got in the chair and let himself down. He soon touched the bottom and found himself in the closet where Ed had been. He never let Ed know about it, nor any of his classmates, for Ed’s sake. JOHN PERKINS. o TO MARIAN COWEN I met a little seventher. Upstairs in the wide hall, I asked her why she didn’t grow And why she was so small. She slightly frowned and answered me As quick as do a few, “I am as big for me,” said she, “As you are big for you.” o THE REVENGE OF SHAFTER, “I shall never cease to follow him as long as I can move a step and the time will soon come when I will give the blackguard a taste of his own medicine.” This was said by George Shafter as he stood over the ruins of his home which was situated on the bank of a tributary of the Red River in Texas. Shafter was a man of twenty-five years of age and lived all alone in the rude house that was left to him by his father THE TARGET 19 BAND Upper row, left to right: Francis Phillips, Walter St. John, He ber Gute, Edward Gove, Standish Dohogh. Second row, left to right: Wilbur Booth, Robert McCullough, Donald Kitzmiller, Marion Clark, Wikes Glass, Hubert Bryant, Harold Woolsey, Charles Whitworth. Lower row, left to right: Lucian Eastland, Robert Edgar, George Gilchrist, William Foss, Sidney Brown. who had died a number of years ago, leaving his son all alone, for his wife had died before .he moved to this remote spot in the wilderness. This was the only place, he could call home and all his belongings were kept there. He had just reached the spot where his home formerly stood, and held in his hand a dirty piece of paper op which was scribbled the words, — “You remem- ber what you did to me by inn.” Yes, he did remember what he had done by the inn. He had knocked down a dirty half-breed by the name of Jose for mercilessly beating his horse and the half-breed had sworn to have revenge. And now he had done it by burning everything he owned but the clothes on his back, his rifle, his revolver and his faith- ful horse. . • ■ Two months had passed without his catching sight of Jose, but at last one day he heard that he had been standing at the very spot on which he was now resting but half an hour ago. He then strolled out of the bar, but he was no sooner out than a shot rang out. His hat dropped off his head and he wheeled around just in time to see the half- breed galloping away on a black horse. Quickly he picked up his hat, jumped on his horse and was off like a shot. The chase lasted fully half an hour and they were still about the same distance apart. Suddenly his enemy’s horse stum- bled, throwing his rider off. Soon Shafter reached them. The horse was limping around on three legs, for he had stepped into a prairie dog’s hole and had broken it. The master still lay unconscious on the ground. He pressed his re- volver to his head, but did not shoot. Soon he put , it back in its 20 THE TARGET bolster and lay down by his enemy’s side. He forced some brandy into the half-breed’s mouth and soon he regained consciousness. Shatter then took all the harness from off the wounded horse and let it go. A few minutes later he carried the half-breed to his horse and he him- self mounted behind him. As they were slowly carried to the nearest town, he raised eyes to Heaven and said, “ ‘Revenge is sweet,’ say some people, but I cannot do it.” The next day he was seen walking arm in arm with Jose, and now they are the best of friende for he had repented and had become a man in- stead of a coward. LINCOLN SOO HOO. o A HUNTING PARTY. One hot summer day two small children, about four or five, came walking down the road. They were both dressed in brown overalls and blue shirt with large brown straw hats, and the only way one could tell them apart was by the shining curls which stuck out from under Jill’s hat. Jack carried a small BB gun which he thought was very large and heavy. As they walked along, both talking at the same time, there w ' as a rustle in the bushes and both stopped short. Silently they tip- toed up to the spot; Jack raised his gun and shot into the bushes and then stood silent listening for a while. Although nothing was there, the occurrence gave them an idea and they promptly put their two little heads together. That night at the dinner table Jack told a very exciting story, w ' ith additions from Jill, of how they had killed a raccoon. Needless to say, they did not agree entirely on many minor details, but of the fact that it was too heavy to carry and that they had thrown ii in the bushes to get some other time, they were both quite sure. LESLEY LIDDELL — o Charles Cobb: ‘‘I saw a forest-fire burn all week one night.” A MOUNTAIN TRIP IN THE SWISS ALPS. Early one summer morning, just as the sun had begun to paint the clouds and snow-capped uiountaiiis a rudd hue, five or six boys came out into the square prepared for the trip. We all wore gray felt caps, black army capes, and green hunting suits and knapsacks. We took the train at Wabern, and rode to Thurn accompanied by some Swiss peas- ants, who sang light ditties all the way. At Thurn we changed for Laut- erbrennen from which place we hik- ed to Murren. We ate a small second breakfast on a hillside full of Alpine roses, with the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau peaks, all red with the rising sun, shining through the mist, which filled the valley. Proceeding on our way, we came to a little secluded valley in which was a frozen lake. In a few seconds the snowstorm w’as on. It was rather hard climbing in the snow, and there were frequent rests. When we reach- ed the top we were obliged to turn back, for there we saw one of the most dangerous things in the Alps, an overhanging ledge of snow, which breaks when stepped on. Going back, all tracks were covered and it was exceedingly hard to find a w ' ay. Luck brought us to a peas- ant’s chalet, w ' here we found an old lady who was willing to make us some hot coffee, and give us a hand- ful of cheese, and a glass of milk for two francs. The next day we went down into the valley and took the train for Kaudersteg where we stayed over- night. In the morning Herrn Busen- hardt, seeing that a few were loath to go over the Gemini Pass by road, took a few of us by the trail. I shall never forget the beauty of the pass. The only disfigurements were slabs on which were inscribed the names and brief accounts of the deaths of unfortunate travelers. Here too, we were caught in a snowstorm. In the snow and fog, the hotel was invisible, and as it was on the edge of a two thousand foot drop, w ' hich we were sure to have taken, we were glad we saw the lights in time. After dinner we began to get stiff, so we started on our journey. It was THE TARGET 21 hard to keep from running as the hill was so steep, but if we ever started, we never would have stopped until we went over the edge. It was about fourteen miles to Leuk, where the “Hotel zum Krone” was our only refuge. It was so to our dislike that we made a jingle about it, which would spoil my story if written. In the morning we took the train to Berne, via Geneva, Lausanne, Montreux, and Anverge, and when we reached our destination on the next day, we had two days’ vacation to make up our school work. PARKER ALLEN. o THE TRIBUTE TO MUMTAZI MA- . HAL. The night was warm, clear and S;till, the sort of night that seems to bring out the fragence of every plant and flower. The mocnlight, streaming down in soft silver rays over the plain, looked down on the quiet town of Agra, India, and farther out on the marble domes of the Taj Mahal. On this night a party of Amer- icans entered the great arch of red sandstone and stood, spellbound at the beauty before them. A pool of shimmering water in which was reflected the exquisite outline of the Taj Mahal softened by the moon- shine, lay between the gateway and the building. The water was edged with dark cypresses, forming a strong contrast with the delicate reflection. At the end of the vista rose the beautiful pure edifice, a peDcl set among the gardens. The travelers approached it, and entered the great doorway. Here they were met by a Hindu guide who led them down to the crypt where Mum Taj and her husband lie buried. The guide then raised his head and holding the candle up so that only his dark face and yellow turban were visible in the flickering light, gave that weird half chant, half hallo, which only the Hindus can make, until it resounded throughout the great structure. When the echoes had died away he told the sad story of Mum Taj. “Mum Taj,” he said, “the Pride of the Palace, was a beautiful Persian princess. She married Shah Jehan, and became his favorite wife. But in a few years she died and her husband had this wonderful building built for. her. His palace was across the Jumna, and after her death he would sit there in the Jasmine Bower, the queen’s own apartment, and look across the river at the Taj Mahal, thinking of his beautiful wife. The travelers now ascended the stairs, walked down the path beside the pool, and after a last look from the gateway, left the mausoleum in silence. The poet has well said,- — “The gaze lights On that great tomb rising prodigious, still. Matchless, perfect in form, a miracle Of grace, and tenderness and sym- metry. Pearl-pure against the sapphire of the sky. Instinct with loveliness— not masonry. Not architecture, as all others are. But the proud passipn of an em- peror’s love Wrought into living stone.” FERN HICKS. McKinley school fund. Receipt ' s. May 1, Balance on harid . $ 6.58 .July 1, Bividend .40 Oct. 7, Collection Total . . . . $ 26.04 Expenditures. Repairs ? .25 Badges - . 5.05 Baseball 1.25 Tennis .70 Lime 1.60 Incidentals . .40 $ 9.25 Balance . ? 16.79 MUSIC FUND. Receipts. Mav 1, Balance on hand , . $ 17.82 Mav 25, Concert 77.60 Total . . $ 95.42 Expenditures. Music Stands $ 4.15 Baritone . . . . 38.00 Malophone . . 40.00 Music 4.16 1 86.31 Balance 1. $ 9.11 W. B. Clark, Treasurer. 22 THE TARGET PIANO CLUB. Upper row, left to right: Minnie Chan, Esther Greeley, Kenneth Emslie, Helen Bolton, Bettina Collom, Phyllis Graham. Second row, left to right: Margaret Giesler, Lillian Lelend, Muriel Ditzler, Ruth Sorrick, Alina Smrith, Claire Kennedy, Claire Lenfesty, Helen Lightner, Leslie Liddell. Third row, left to right: Dorothy Dyer, Madeline Sanderson, Fannie McHenry, Lucille Barrett, Mildred Harkey, Irene Paret, Flowrence Fowden, Lower row, left to right: Gertrude Seaver, Laura Bolton, Tirill Dubrow, Margery McCullough, Jean Scotford, Blanche Eastland, Sylvia Leland, Camille Haines, Pauline Elder. WHAT DO MOSQUITOES MEAN? 1 will try to let you understand what the mosquito really mens. As we know, it is a small, two-winged insect with a sharp sort of bill with which “she” inflicts that bite which is so well known. The males do not bite. The bite is bad enough but the effects that sometimes follow are worse. The reason that the Panama Canal, under the French, and many big ex- ploring expeditions failed, was be- cause of that insignificant creature. It has been discovered and proven that the mosquito is the only means of carrying malaria and yellow fevers. The United States could not have succeeded in completing the Panama Canal if that had not been found out and the place made sanitary. San Mateo County has spent fif- teen thousand dollars in the last year to exterminate them. They do not wait for the mosquitoes to hatch and then “swat” them but go after them in the larva or wiggler stage. Men are paid two dollars a day to inspect for wigglers, and then people must oil with crude-oil to prevent them from getting air. This kills them. The natural question to follow is, “Why should they spend all that money for the mosquito while it does not carry malaria or yellow fever there?” We will take the year before anything was done a- bout the mosquitoes, — three years ago. For three days in the middle of the season. which lasted three months, a person could not see any better than through a very heavy THE TARGET 23 fog. The people had to tie their clothes around their legs and arms, put nets over their heads and then get bitten. The livery stables had to give up business. The best hotel had to close in the middle of the season. Every body that could, left town. The value of property dropped twenty-five per cent. This year the hotel has kept open all season and it was hard to get a room, the cheapest being two dollars and one-half a night. There have been no more than five mosquitoes seen in San Mateo. The value of land has been above normal, but the inspectors and oilers had a hard time accomplishing the desired results. They were often wading up to their knees in mud and water out in the marsh where the mosquitoes bred, which was none too pleasant. One mosquito lays about five hundred eggs, so an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. CHARLES WOODWORTH. o THE MAN FROM THE ALAMO. The man was himself in all ways, tall, — a marvel of physical strength. He rode a small gray bronco which did not seem overbalanced with weight although he yas covereu with foam. The man was dressed in western fashion with his large hat and silver buckles which sparkled in the sun- light. He carried no arms except a revolver which hung loosely at his belt. On a nearer view it could be seen that he was haggard and worn out from travel and that his hat was shattered and his clothes ragged. As he swept by, there was an air of freedom about him, and he seemed to be on some message of importance, for he neither looked to left or right, but kept the same rate until he came to the governor’s house at the end of the street. He had been sent from the Alamo to secure help from the government but in vain for the Alamo was cap- tured and all its brave defenders killed before aid could be sent to them. .JOHN SMITH. A MISREPRESENTATION Not long ago I passed a litle brown house which was entirely secluded from any other of its kind. I had often noticed this rude little dwell- ing and I was quite interested in its occupant who seemed to be the sole inhabitant of the abode. As often as I visited the spot, this little person was sitting before the door, busily preparing vegetables for her dinner. On this occasion, however, she did not make her appearance. A tiny girl stood on the path, crying bitter- ly. Hastened to the spot, and put- ting my arms about her, said, “Dear child, why do you weep?” “Why surely such a nice little girl as you could have done nothing to make you so miserable. Come tell me your troubles and perhaps they can be helped.” “Oh, if you only, knew what I have done,” she cried, “I know you would be sorry too.” Turning her tear-stained face to mine, she confessed, “Really I meant noharm to Miss Betty, nor did I in- tend to hurt her feelings, but mother sent me some carrots for her supper, and as she was sitting befoe the door, I asked her to please move and let me put the carrots in the house. Then she began to cry, and 1 saw the tears running down her face. Won’t you come with me and try to make her happy?” In reaching the house, I looked in and saw the object of her solici- tude, a pretty black rabbit, sitting in the corner nibbling a carrot. When the wee maiden saw the content- ment of her pet, she was happy, realizing that she had been mistaken about Miss Betty’s shedding tears, and her face was transformed, look- ing as though it had been kissed by a sunbeam. MYRTA SMITH. o A MESSAGE. Christmas may come but once a year. But our best wishes are always near, — Health and wealth and happiness too We hope Santa Claus will bring to you. o- IRENE TUSCH. 24 THE TARGET THE LAST WILL AND TESTA- MENT OF THE HIGH NINTH CLASS Having raised our eyes from the dust and hearkened to the call of higher things, , we are about to leave the dwelling of our childhood and fare forth into the great unknown. It is with sorrow and misgiving that we take this step, for we fully realize that this, the home of our infantile joys, deprived of our guiding hand and losing the. firmest rock amid its foundation of sand, is in grave danger of a fall such as was dealt to mighty Rome when she was deprived of her Caesars and her Horatius, but the trumpet summons of Ambition is not to be disregarded. Therefore we, the members of the December Class of 1914, wishing to avert the im- pending doom as much as possible, do, in pity, bestow upon the infants who are to attempt the superhuman task of upholding the dignity of the school which we have performed so well, the following of our rarest posessions, which may, perhaps, in some degree, enable their tiny minds to slightly grasp the import of the work before them. Margaret Spaulding consents to forego her desire for Alma Smith’s part in the class play and, strange to state, she is willing to leave her reputation as a big fish in McKinley’s Pond to Louise Park and to try her luck as one of the multitude in the great ocean of wisdom which lies beyond. Frances Morris yields her amazing frankness for revealing all she doesn’t know about Latin, to Mary Walkup as “Ted”, sad as it seems in one so young, has the habit of trying to bluff Mr. Cobert. Dorothy Todd hands down her box of white kid gloves exclusively for school wear, and her marvelous vo- cabulary of jaw-breakers” to Olga Hansen. Walter Monsey Maas gives by will his supply of pinches and punches to Bob Thompson for he expects to be a dignified little soldier when strid- ing through the halls of Berkeley High. Alice Searby takes a long, linger- ing look at her latest supply of snails as she leaves them to Joseph- ine Payne, but not without the hope that they will serve to increase her avoirdupois, for Alice’s expectations in that respect were not fully real- ized. Donald Johnson leaves his rosebud blushes to Moses Rey, and his mathematical knowJedge, perfected under the tuition of Lillius, to Marv Thompson. Those short trousers go to any one who needs them. Sherrill Conner wills his privilege of noon-time promenades with a cer- tain fair maid in room one, and the violets bestow ' ed upon him, to Hale Parker. Elvira Erikson leaves her “French Roll” and “Devil Curls” to Fern Follies Hicks. Helen Trevor leaves her w ' hite stockings and long-sought-for posi tion on the honor roll to Blanche Tomaire. Carl Geiser leaves his mumbling, bouncing and flouncing properties, together with his knowiedge of Ger- man to Parker Allen. His position as official fly-swatter of the High Ninth Class he resigns to the ad- vantage of Henry Lingle. Ernestine Porter readily wills her latest accomplishment, the ability to utter heartrending, ear-splitting, throat-cracking cries of distress most spontaneously, to Charlotte Thaxter and her ability to wmite and recite book reviews with first sections in mind, to Bill Foss. . Rufus Johnson, our roaring lion, estates upon Richard Erving his bump of pugnacity as he fears little Dick is too timid and retiring. His antagonistic looks of certain uncer- tainty, so frequently noticed in alge- bra class, are thrust in for good measure. Arthur Rice, familiarly known as Dotty Dimple, wills his auburn locks of that “dissembling” color and his nickname which he so fondly cher- ishes, to George Eldredge. Melvin Stamper beneficently be- stows his deep bass voice, of w ' hich Miss Christy is so proud, upon Ruth Stewart for use in sixth period Eng- lish. Ruth will doubtless render her thanks and present to him her Wamba costume for High School wear. Rochelle Blair with a sigh of re- lief, leaves his Beau Brummel choker 25 THE TARGET and troublesome knee, which throws such convulsions in English Class, to Arthur Gunderson. Rob Berry gives her colored coat with the waffle collar and cuffs, also two fog-proof curls to Faith Milliken. With his last breath, Elbert Schil- ler tenderly wills his sylph-like body, which he manages on the folding-bed principle to Douglas Hosselkus. Marion Hunt bequeaths to Lula Madison her soft voice and gentle manner with the hope that she will not deem them too valuable to use as they are warranted to last. Mildred Harkey leaves to Anna Knoop her ability to “Tickle the Ivories” as Anna is striving patiently to acquire the art. Eleanor Tingman has kindly prom- ised to reveal her beauty secrets to Polly Sleeper when she passes into the “Great Unknown” as the latter studies so hard there is a danger of her acquiring wrinkles which of course would never do. Irene Tush condescends to part with a few of her bewitching blushes to Millie Tremp who has all the airs of a finished coquette save that. Clay Farnsworth wills to Johnnie Waste her air of independence as Jean is a shy little girl suffering from a common malady, lack of “pep.” Lucille Barrett leaves to Dodo Tacks Staats her ability to slip out of quarantine and other difficulties, as she realizes that Dodo needs a little boost now and then to help her out of her many perplexities both real and imaginary. George Gilchrist leaves that ser- ious mien and a supply of epistles which he has been shooting across an empty seat in German Class, to Robert McCullough. Earle Lowell leaves his skill in losing “Target” passes and his head, as it is in danger of turning into a basketball, to Arthur Parsnips Par- sons. Geraidine Burnett will sadly part with her dainty mincing steps as Mildred Nuttall will make good use of them. Geraldine has a few first sections for Avis Rodehaver. Lillius Jewell wills the “sportive toil” of imparting algebra knowledge during the sixth period to Amelia Bernard. Wee Winkie Boone bequeaths that contagious smile to George Thomp- son, and his anti-fat secrets to Tommy Barrows. Revere Bones Hofstetter refuses to leave to anyone his delightful afternoon walks with a certain eighth-grader, but endows Wheeler Jensen with his Websterian, Heney- like oratorical fame. Mildred Laird bestows upon Ora Chang a few of her crimps, but wills her orange coat and red middy tie so often worn together, to Judith Lee. Helen Bolton transmits her win- some ways that have a tendency to ensnare, also her Tuesday afternoon body-guard to Annvonette Bates. Kenneth Yoyo Emsile wills, in his last moments, to Beverly Clarke his terpsichorean ability to be exhibited exclusively in history class. His curls and lady-like manners are to be cherished by Wikes Glass. “Pickles” Horstman leaves to fu- ture High Ninth classes, his shining “mourning” face and great fluency of speech in English recitations. He also leaves to whoever may need it the graceful bow of which Willie is so justly proud. Possibly Harold Payne would enjoy these gifts. Olive Lundy settles her meew and mild disposition, that lamb-like ex- pression, and unreasonable desire to always lead the High Ninth lines upon Vi Grady, as that little maid shows a tendency to follow in her footsteps. Crispolo Garsulas leaves his bois- terous ways for the advantage of George Crach. Henry Hank Whoy Haines, much to the joy of his associates, leaves those awful jokes and that faculty air to Sidney Brown. Faith Bililken Babcock wills that baffling expression, and lusty warble to Marie Myers. Margaret Grimshaw begrudgingly wills her curling irons and her artis- tic mode of hairdressing to Alice Greer, hoping that they will serve to foster the anity of their new owner. Rita Aclainsen passes over those bewitching brown eyes to Edith Brown, and adds that she hopes the recipient will see more out of them than she has during the third algebra period. 26 THE TARGET Anna Edgar gives by this testa- ment her diffidence and the art of coyly balancing curls, to Annabel Gaw. Eleanor Livingston wills her love for Overland automobiles, as she re- peatedly states that she has had many pleasant rides in them, to Frances Block. Philip Calkins turns over for “Whiskey” Porter’s use that persist- ent attack of “frog-in-the-throat.” He wishes to impart to Wescott the knowledge that his great fond- ness for athletics has resulted in the noticeable increase of his stature. Much to the relief of the awed High Ninth Class, Rev. Henry Hawk- shaw Thomas has decided to be- queath a portion of his dignity, and his graceful movements of speed, to Sam Scotchie McRae. Victor Victorious Bigelow, our social lion, leaves his “Ford” and his extensive correspondence, as he in- tends to start a new set when he reaches B. H. S., to Kenneth Graham. Molly Brant Rankin will now permit Soinnus, (God of Sleep) to exert his powers over Ralph Hagin, during all periods of the day except noon hour, which he reserves for strolls around the block. Florine Wurkheim passes on with deep regret, because it is her moth- er’s, that filmy, green waist, to Em- my Lou Noble. Those yellow curls of Charles Bid- dle and his position as Miss Eller- horst’s official mesenger, must go to Leslie Alexander. Perhaps you did not know that Johannes Magis Moore has become a musician of note, and so happily anticipates playing at recitals, that in the future he knows that Muriel Ditzler will enjoy these opportunities. Margaret Newsom bequeaths a por- tion of her self-possession and a goodly supply of first sections to Irene Paret. Mabel Johnson unwillingly loses some of her extra pounds and ounces to the advantage of Muriel Oakshott. Her French giggle is donated to Minnie Chan. Edith Bryant, for the sake of the Low Ninth spelling average, gives bv testament her spelling powers to George Bliss for his exclusive use. Myrta Smith leaves her occupation as a Latin whiz to Evwyn Anthony. Connie Lutgen leaves her sweet calm smile and her motto, “Silence is golden,” to Burt Babcock. Charles Chick Woodworth dedi- cates his fly and mosquito knowledge to Albert Flea Raymond. Libby Burke says, “I’ll never tell,” but leaves a supply of “spearmint” and the privilege of obtaining it at wholesale rates, to Ruth Sorrick. Grace Benkers leaves her pencil box and contents to Lester Browning. Gertrude Holland passes on her assumed right to dine during the seventh period, and the pleasure of being conveniently absent from Eng- lish recitations, to Phyllis McIntosh. Frances McConlogue lovingly be- queaths to Gertrude Haunt that pink dress of which she is so fond but she seems already to have given a portion of her profuse blushes, and timidity in Latin class to that maid. “Bee” Miller bequeaths her crystal watch imported from Switzerland to Alice Wittenburg. Isabelle Warwick reluctantly leaves her w ' andering comb to Pearson Hig- gins whose long roaming locks fre- quently need attention. Harriet Guy relinquishes her fairy- like interpretation of the “Eloise Gavotte,” for Dorothy Ellerhorst’s benefit. Claire Kennedy leaves a baker’s dozen freckles to Morgan Cox, other- wise known as, “Red,” and a curl or two, together with her Latin squeak, to Blake Curly. Florence Hazen leaves her Paderew- ski talent, and her novel ideas on the subject of hair dressing to Helen Ingham. Alfredus Sub Colie (Underhill) reluctantly and with many a long last lingering look leaves his first signs of budding manhood, his long pants, to Donald Kitzmiller but re- fuses to part with a new privilege which came with them, that of es- corting a fair young damsel to school. Wilbur Boots Booth, that silver- tongued orator, disposes of his fluen- cy of speech, so noticeable in Eng- lish, as a boon for Elva Busch, but yields his stock of motorcycle knowl- edge to Mr. Beardsley. Fuzzy Howard Moore bequeaths his hilarious disposition as indented by his spontaneous “Puck” giggle, to Lillian McHoul. THE TARGET 27 of Bernice Peiser. Kaarlo Ponsi will doubtless miss the joy of depositing notes so skil- fully under a yellow s heet on the instructor’s desk in Room 3 for his boon companon. Pickles Horstmann, hut he will pass on the privilege of using the same mail box to Gladys Alexander. Kenneth, (Frequently known as Sherrill) Connor bequeaths his aff- able, loq uacious manner to Helen Street. Alma Smith advises Evelyn Mitchel to keep up to date the portfolio of the very latest news, just off the bat, entrusted to her charge. Mc- Kinley’s news-agency will thrive un- der your leadership, Evelyn, if you keep up the pace already set. Ethel Quick is no longer to be en- vied, for the tons of knowledge so securely packed in algebra cells have been freighted to Roy Converse’s dome. Edith Barry’s “childish treble” is to be the property of Herbert Daube. Josephine (Jibbs’ love for the car- dinal can not be disputed, but all her cherished posessions of that hue must be passed over to Ruth Bowen. Ruth Gompertz, our faithful editor finds the pressure of duties and tresses so burdensome that the bur- den must be lightened; hence a portion of the “Medusa” locks fall to the share of Willa Middlehoff. Josephine Halverson relinquishes all claims to her black and white checked coat for the convenience Fannie McHenry’s smile, warranted to wear well and bring joy to the hearts of all solicitors for pictures, “Target” subscriptions, etc., is to be placed at the disposal of lone Crayne. Owen Onions Schloss leaves his English book well padded with defi- nitions and one perfectly good “Over- land” to Jack Holman. Frances Tash has a first class memory, and we defy you to deny the fact, which is to become the much- needed property of Jimmie Grace Mills. Geraldine Quillinan acknowledges with sincere thanks the receipt of Frances Stone’s shy and unobtrusive manner. Dorothy Sawyer gladly disposes of a surplus stock of “Classic Myths” knowledge for the edification of Beulah Butler. One red sweater is Doris Sawyer’s gift to Marjorie Herrman. Louise Thatcher’s motto, “To be seen and not heard” is to be the prize of William Lefty Forman. (Signed) THE DECEMBER CLASS OF NINETEEN FOURTEEN. o A GREAT BATTLE. “I remember in the spring of 18 5, what a great battle we had. Old Colonel Simpson led our forces,” said Perkins, an old story-teller seating himself in a chair. “Did you fight on the Northern or Southern side?” I asked, forgetting that the Civil War was over years before this battle occurred. But I wanted to know the pain uiars of this engagement. “Neither,” was his quick reply, as he turned a blank face toward me. I began to think of what war it was and finally gave it up as I did not know of any during 1895. “We had large poles to knock them down, glue to paint the bottom of the trees, with, and spraying ma- chines. We went out to Jim Thomp- son’s apple orchard where the enemy was the thickest. We soon had all of them wiped out of his place. We then went to all the farms within a radius of fifteen miles of the town and in two days there was not a foe near Pumkinville,” he proudly ex- claimed. I had been thinking about what kind of an enemy would fight in trees and would have to be knocked down with poles, sprayed and have the trees glued which would kill them quickly. Probably they were fighting monkeys but then there were none in this country. Then I con- cluded they were fighting Indians. “How many did you kill?” I asked. “Oh, we must have got a few mil- lions,” replied Perkins easily. “A few millions!” I exclaimed. “Why. there are hardly that many Indians in the United States. Who was their leader. Sitting Bull?” Though on second thought I knew he had been dead sometime. “See here, sonny, what are you talking about?” Perkins asked me. “Why, about that terrible battle you had with the Indians in which they lost so many men.” 28 T H E T A K G E T “Huh! I never fought an Indian in my life,” he said. “Well then who was Colonel Simp- son?” I asked quickly. “He is an old farmer who knows all about pests, and this war I re- lated is about the time we drove the horned caterpillars out of our orchards.” DONALD KITZMILLER. SEVEN LONG YEARS. There was a maiden sweet and fair, A hey down, down, adown. Whose heart was very, very, sair, All for her true love in Islingtown. Her true love he was a gallant knight. As brave as brave might be. But he went forth into the night. And to Islington ne’er returned he. ’Tis seven long years since he’s been gone, ’Tis seven long years this day, ’Tis seven long years since in Lover’s Lane, He promised to love me for aye. O, false were his vows, as false as could be, When he promised those kind words that day, But, now he lies ’neath yon green- wood tree. To sleep for aye and aye. MARJORIE MOORE. o- MARY’S LITTLE CYCLE CAR. Mary had a cycle car. As red as any beet; And every time she took it out. They heard the noise in Crete. It speeded up the road one day. Which was against the law; When for the fine the judges asked — She had to ask her paw. A CHANCE If good old Santa Claus forgets The things you long for most. Cheer up and suffer no regrets — There’s still the parcel post. WILLIAM BOONE. AN ALASKAN DOG RACE. A large crowd was collected in front of “Stagger Inn,” Dawson’s most frequented place of amusement. It was ' the morning of the great “All Alaskan sweep stakes.” The various dog teams were being made ready for the early morning start. The race began at Dawson and ended at Candle, requiring at least five days for the trip. There were five entries lined up, impatient for the report of the start- er’s gun. One of these teams was driven by Sandy McGee, the most popular man in Dawson and best dog driver in America. Four of the dog teams were composed of six dogs while Sandy had only five hitched to the sled. The sixth dog was to be found on the sled. His name was Jack and he was one of the best sled dogs in the north country and had remarkable strength and endurance. At last the shot was fired and off went the teams amid the shouts of the onlookers. On and on they went. Two sleds soon began to gain. One of them was that of Sandy. For two whole days these teams kept neck and neck, only stopping for food, but still Jack rode proudly on the sled. On the fourth day, Sandy’s rival began to gain but still the dog on the sled was not used. The fifth day came out with Sandy half a mile in the rear but he followed doggedly with his tired team. Now in the distance gleamed the white tents and shacks of Candle. Sandy halted his team, fed and patted them, and said to Jack, “Now, old man, it’s your turn. Do your best.” Jack was harnessed with the exhausted dogs. He barked and frisked and pulled at the tugs until the order to “push on” was given. Jack’s spirit seemed to inspire his team mates and they pulled man- fully for two hours and succeeded in overtaking the leading team. They were now about ten miles from Candle and all the dogs but Jack were nigh exhausted. He, with all his strength, pulled dogs and sled the last ten miles and reached the goal, two minuits in advance of the- rival team! HOWARD IMOORE. o THE TARGET 29 THE JUGGLERS OF CEYLON. “Hear that weird noise?” said some one. “It sounds like a flute to me.” Every body on the veranda sat still and listened. It was about four o’clock and tea had just been served. The hot tropical sun now allowed the guests to stroll about the hotel gar- dens but many remained on the ver- anda to talk of their travels and experiences. The sound drew nearer and up the driveway came a curious procession, of five Indian jugglers carrying some large baskets. The native in the lead played upon a reed pipe and wore a plaid skirt, and a yellow turban. There on the gravel drive- way in front of the veranda they halted and laid down their baskets. They formed a semi-circle and sat down. Everything was now ready and the reed pipes sent forth their strange notes. There were three small bas- kets in the center and when the music started the lids slowly rose a nd from the baskets three cobras came forth; after rising to their height, they swayed to and fro. Then with the occasional flash of red tongue and fang, they subsided into their baskets. The leader, a famous juggler, stepped forth and placed a small object in his mouth and . then took long breaths. Soon flames and smoke issued forth and continued for several minutes. This Indian juggler received a medal from Queen Victoria when he performed before her in England. The others did many tricks which puzzled and a- mused the spectators. The best trick was the basket trick. A native woman doubled her- self into a small round basket and the lid was then tightly put on. The others thrust swords through the basket and then called to her. A faint answer came, which grew louder, the lid was opened and the woman was helped out unhurt. The mango seed trick was t he next per- formed. The juggler dug a hole, planted a mango seed in it and sprinkled it with water. He then placed a cloth over it and began to play on his reed pipe. Presently the cloth quivered and slowly rose. When it had risen about fourteen inches, the juggler took the cloth off and there stood a mango plant. These tricks might not appear wonderful on the stage but right there on the ground before you it seemed marvelous and impossible A collection having been taken up, the jugglers departed leaving their spectators thoroughly mystified. LAWSON POSS. o BUBBLING BLOOD. The pirate ship “Golden Crescent” anchored near an uncharted island. Just as the sun was going down, the time when the condemned victims were cast overboard, the Captain, Curly Beard, called to his first mate. “Bring up old one-eyed Joe,” he said. The officer brought up an evil- looking man, who had been discov- ered trying to poison the food of the master of the vessel. “What have you to say for your- self?” gruffly asked Curly Beard, eyeing the victim tor a minute. “You can drown my body, . but I’ll follow you and more than once, you’ll see my blood bubbiing up. You look into the ocean in the morn- ing and see if you don’t,” growled One-eyed Joe. As most pirates are very super- stitious, the Captain could not forget the last words of his hated compan- ion, and dawn found him on the deck, anxiously scanning the sea. His weather-beaten face grew strangely pallid as he saw, not far from the prow of the vessel, a spot upon the water, red as blood, heaving and bubbling. “Here, Sam,” he said to the officer who came from the bridge, “take this bomb, and, see that red spot yonder? Blow it to China.” Then Curley Beard hurried into his cabin and locked the door. When the mate returned to the ship, he knocked twice at the Cap- tain’s door before it was unlocked. “I thought, sir.” he said, holding out a filmy red bunch,” you might like to see w ' hat queer seaweed it was.” ' ■ RUTH SORRICK. o 30 THE TARGET BASKETBALL TEAMS Upper row, left to right: Eleanor Livingston, Doris Harford, Pauline Elder, Irene Tusch, Fannie McHenry (Manager), Anita Taniere, Tirill Durbrow, Ruth Younger, Camille Haines, Grace Greet Bettina Colloin. Second row, left to right: Alice Queen, Ruth Simpson, Priscilla Collom, Beryl Mitchell (captain), Beulah Butler, Bernice Pieser, Anna Knorp, Sheila Lambert, Margaret Mann. Lower row, left to right: Charlotte Arnold, Eleanor Mead, Blanche East- land, Ruth McBride, Muriel Durgin, Katherine Butler, Florence Thaxter, Theodora Hengstler, Agnes Sherwood, Mary Baxter, Ethel Kelsey. NIGHT. Slowly the sun sinks from sight, leaving behind, a brilliant trail which gradually changes to softer tones, and in time fades entirely away. The curtains of night are drawn by noiseless, unseen fingers; and the sky, suddenly awakened, opens its twinkling eyes, and begins upon the darkening earth. Low in the eastern sky, a silvery orb hangs, shedding over hill and meadow a soft, radiant light, which turns river and rippling brook to silver at the touch of its magic caress. Gradually the sounds of traffic cease, and the night in its moon- lit splendor reigns silent and supreme. NANCY LLOYD. THE “SISSY” “What’s up?” I asked as I joined a group of boys gathered near the station, What are you meeting here for?” “My cousin’s coming,” said Jim, “and he ' s bringing along a kid named Percival and he’s a regular dude in the making.” Just then the train swung around the curve and came to a stop at the station. Frank, Jim’s cousin, jumped from the step of the train followed by Percival. He certainly lived up to his name. From head to foot there was not to be seen a spot or speck ot dirt; there was a big bow under his chin and he could have easily used his shoes as mirrors. There was quite a contrast between him in THE TARGET 31 BASKETBALL TEAMS Upper row, left to right: Victor Bigelow, Francis Kelsey, Elbert Schiller, Owen Schloss, Richard Erving, Edward Gove, Grafton Carlisle. Second row, left to right: William Foss, John Smith, William Horstmann, George Bliss, Robert McHenry. Lower row, left to right: Kaarlo Ponsi, Earle Lowell. his tidy clothes and us in our torn and spotted overalls. He seemed to be quite shocked at our appearance. After being introduced to us, he went off with Jim and Frank. “Gee he’s no dude, he’s a sissy,’’ I said. And so ever after that he was known as the “Sissy.” Every time we got a chance we would tease him. Sometimes I won- der that he stayed, the way we treat- ed him. But it had to end some time and so it did. It happened when the vacation was about half over. We were down at the swimming hole Percival, after having carefully spread out our hand- kerchiefs, sat on the bank watching us. “Smudge Perkins”, the biggest boy in our gang, crawled out of the water when Percival wasn’t looking and began sneaking up behind him. He dodged aside just in time, so that “Smudge” didn’t get a good grip. When Percival found he was being dragged towards the water, he got mad for the first time. He hit “Smudge” on the side of ' the head. At first “Smudge” didn’t know Avhat hit him. But he picked himself up and was going to return the blow with interest. Percival was ready. What was left of “Smudge” when Percival got through isn’t worth men- tioning. He got into his clothes about as fast as he could and we didn’t see him again for about a week. When he did appear, he and Percival were the best of friends. But Per- cival was never again known as the “Sissy.” WILLIAM BIDDLE o THE LOVERS. Iheie was a lass, a well beloved lass, A handsome lass was she. She had all on her gay attire, And the sun shown right brightly. r H E T A K (i E T : 2 BASEBALL TEAM. Upper row, left to right; Richard Erving, John Smith, Owen Schloss, Robert McHenry, Earle Lowell. Lower row, left to right: John Moore, Edward Gove, Cyril Gilsenan, George Bliss. But her heart was sad, full sad it was, ’T was almost broke in three. For her lover was gone, ’twas seven long years. And never could she him see. And as she walked along the road. Now feeling quite sadly. She met a very handsome man, Was sighing so piteously. And as she looked again, again. Her true love she thought it must be. But he, not looking at her sweet face. Rode on unheedingly. “Look, look,” she cried in voice so glad, “I’m your lady fair, you see, “Oh Welcome, welcome, love,” he cried. Come, be my bride speedily.” And so into the town they rode, A happy pair to see. He riding on the dappled horse. And she ui on his knee. DOROTHY PRATT. o A RUSE, The Kern family lived in a small valley among the foothills, some ten miles from their nearest neighbor. They had not been troubled by the numerous Indians in thevicinity for some time, the latter having been severely punished by a force of United States’ soldiers for annoying the settlers. There was also a small company that patrolled the country to protect the scattered farms. Mr. Kern had gone to do some business at the little settlement thirty miles away. He left Joe and Dan to take care of things in his absence. Suddenly they heard wild THE TARGET )r) TENNIS. Upper row, left to right: Gertrude Seaver, Franklin Pierce, Helen Law, John Madden, Alice Greer. Lower row, left to right: Elizabeth Burke, George Gilchrist, Lucille Barrett. whoops and a dozen Indians came galloping into the barnyard. The redskins were intoxicated and un- controllable having obtained fire-water from trappers. They began to take what they wanted and destroy prop- erty. The situation was becoming des- perate as the Indians even threat- ened to burn down the house and kill its owners, when the boys thought of a plan. Slipping out to the wood- shed, in the confusion Joe took an old fife and Dan a drum. They could play on these instruments very well, having learned from the soldiers. They managed to reach a small cr eek near by, and hiding themselves under the bank, began to play a lively march, softly at first, then gradually increasing in volume. After a few minutes of breathless sus- pense Dan peered cautiously over the bank still beating his drum, to see the last Indian disappearing around the hill, fleeing at break-neck speed from the supposed soldiers. EPtNESTINE PORTER o IN THE SOCIAL WORLD. “Why I thought you had gone to the social, Miranda,” said Mrs. Cal- houn, seeing a huddled figure on the doorstep. “Well, I did,” came the sullen reply, “But, you did not expect to be home until late and it’s only half past nine now.” “Yas, mistress. Ah knows Ah did and Ah done knowed Ah should have takin’ you’ advice, ’stead of ’sociatin’ wid a dozen low-down niggas.” “Ah goes down to the church an’ Ah sets myself down like a lady, and pretty soon a big fat nigga, he gives me some ice-cream. An’ Ah et it like any lady should and holds ma 34 T H E T A K (i E T hands, when Ah done finished, like any lady should. “After a while dat big fat nigga, he comes up to me and he saj ' s, ' Madam, am you’ program filled?” “And Ah says to him, ‘Nigga, it takes more’n one dish of ice-cream to fill my program.” ELEANOR TINGMAN. o THE TEVIN FIRS. On a cold wintry day, two fir trees stood shivering on a mountain side. As we stood looking around for a good one to use as a Christmas tree, each seemed to say, “Well which one are you going to take? I’m sure I’m better than the other one. Take me.” We at last de- cided to take the larger one. When we were gone the lonely fir tree said to itself, “What shall I do now? My only companion is gone. I suppose he will have a fine time being decorated with candles and other bright things.” No one came to see the tree all the day long, but the next morning three little birds who liked the cold weather came and pc.rched on its branches. When Christmas Day came the birds were still there, and the snow covered the outer branches. He was not lonely because he could hear the little birds talking to them- selves, saying how glad they were that they had a nice warm place to stay. The day after Chi’istmas they flew away, but in a few weeks they returned to tell the little tree what they had seen. They had flown to the city, and perched on the back fence of a yard where they could see the other tree being burned. The little flr tree was glad that he had been left for further good in the world. The birds soon flew away again, but the little flr tree said, “I am glad, after all, that I was not taken by those people who came for a Christmas tree. I am sure I was just as happy on Christmas shelter- ing those little birds.” DOROTHY BLEAN. THE HUNTER’S TALE. A group of hunters sat around a blazing Are in a little cabin in the mountains. It was snowing hard out- side, so they were passing away the time by telling stories of their experiences. As one of the men finished, an old man with a long gray beard began to speak. The room was si- lent, for all knew his reputation as a story teller. “Wal,” he drawled, “I reckon 1 can tell a story that’ll beat that one ten miles. One day when I fust come to these parts, I decided to go deer huntin’. So I picked up my trusty rifle and started off. “When I came to the crick bot- tom, I saw deer marks in the sand. So I says to myself, ‘I’ll just follow these tracks and see what I come to.’ “So I started off, and purty soon I come to a little hill. When I got to the top of it I looked down and saw two deer, just a feedin’ as nice as you please. Fortunately, the wind was blowin’ toward ’em, and so they didn’t know I was comin.’ I reached for a cartridge. To my surprise, I only found one in my belt. I’d for- got to fill my cartridge belt before I started. Wal, I didn’t want to kill just one o’ those fine deer. So what do you s’pose I done? Well, sir, I took my jack-knife out of my pocket. I opened it, and took some string, and tied it to a pole. I set this up whar I thought it would be between the two deer. Then I took a good aim, and shot my one bullet right at that knife.” “The bullet hit the knife square in the middle, and one piece glanced one way, and the other went the other way. Both deer were killed dead, and they were such big fel- lows that I had to make two loads, ’fore I got ’em all home. “I had venison enough to ' last ihe for weeks, and I tell you, it was the best I ever tasted.” When he finished silence reigned, for what hunter could beat that story ? MURIEL DURGIN. 0 Ch THE TARGET 35 “TARGET” STAFF. Upper row, left to right: Burt Babcock, Frances Block, Albert Raymond. Second row, left to right: Earle Lowell, Alma Smith, Fannie McHenry, Mabel Johnson, Arthur Parsons, Margaret Spalding, Eleanor Tingman, Thomas Barrows, Lucille Barrett. Lower row, left to right: Helen Street, Lucile Sleeper, Henry Haines, Ruth Gompertz (Editor in Chief), Arda Bibbins, Ruth Sorrick. ADVISORY BOARD. Mr. Clark Principal Miss Christy Teacher The “Target” Staff wishes to thank the members of the McKinley School for their hearty co-operation in bring- ing to a close the most successful year in the history of our paper The subscription list has reached its high-water mark with 457 names on the roll. In the estimation of the staff the literay contributions made by the students have been of very high char acter and all their efforts to be helpful in any way have been thoroughly appreciated. The “Tar- get” now makes its appearance at a time of the year filled with the spirit of friendliness and good cheer and the ■ members of the staff take this opportunity to unite in wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. HELEN STREET. The “Target wishes to commend those who manifested such great interest in the Belgian sufferers by selling cards to increase their fund. The Belgian movement is under the auspices of the Women’s Relief Corps and they received one hundred and twelve dollars contribu- tion from McKinley school. A special word of praise should be extended to Miss Cheyret’s pupils, as they sold twenty dollars twenty-five cents worth of cards. This was the largest amount forward- ed by any one class, revealing the marked interest and enthuasiasm of room 16 in a worthy cause. T H E T A a E T � ) () If you have not witnessed trans- portation by the Canal route, why not visit room 6? There Albert Raymond and Arthur Parsons will personally conduct your party and spare no pains to make your tour of investigation an interesting one. The United States History classes can verify that statement and they ex- tend thanks to those ninth year boys for the interest they have con- tinued to show in eighth grade work which has resulted in such a clear conception of the plan of the Pana- ma Canal. o A SAND STORM. The sun shone down on the Sa- hara with an intense tropical heat. Nothing could be seeu but a little speck far away in the distance where the sky seemed to meet the desert. The speck was moving, in fact was coming nearer every min- ute. This was the monthly caravan crossing to Fez. As the caravan came into view, it appearel to be a small one, having sixty camels with passengers and drivers. One of the drivers, an old man who knew the desert well, re- marked to another that it was by far too hot, and that the dark, fore- boding clouds banking up in the northeast, had in them signs of trouble. As the day advanced, the heat increased. The w ' omen and child- ren and as many men as possible were put on the camels with a cover over them. The clouds in the north- east had moved nearer; the air had become oppresive and heavy. That these were the certain indi- cations of a sand stonn was the terrifying message passed from mouth to mouth. Away off in the east came a rum- ble, followed by a flash of lightning. The heat had become so terrific that it was impossible to lie down on the sands. The only possible way to escape destruction was to reach the nearest oasis before the sand be- gan to be carried by the wind. The wind was now blowing violent- ly. That it would not reach its ze- nith for an hour was the comforting whisper passed along the caravan. It meant destruction if, at that time, the sand began to blow north and south, east and west. For the seventy-five people in the caravan, it was an awful thought. The sun which had been shining was now entirely blotted off the horizon, but the people in the cara- van knew it was still in the heav- ens for the heat had not abated. Indeed, the heat became unbearable, and the men leading the camels could hardly walk. The sand now began to shift and move which indi- cated the approach of the sand storm. Up to this point the caravan had been able to make a headway against the wind, but now danger more ter- rible than a windstorm confronted the caravan. It seemed the begin- ning of the end. “A speck ahead,” shouted a driver. This piece of in- telligence kindled new courage and hope in the hearts of those who had been in the lead. In a few moments it was known for a fact that this was the oasis ahead, but — and here the hope almost died. Could they make it? Was it possible? They could be fifteen feet away w ' hen the storm started and it would be lost. So would they. But pushing on with new strength and vigor, they were almost there when the storm waged most furiously. The headmost ca- mel reached it, and rushed in quickly followed by the others. No, not all. One did not come. This camel and his human burden were never heard of — victims of the sand storms, having met a death so terrible that it is impossible to describe it, that when spoken of, men who know and traverse that desert, shudder to think of it. The next day they resumed their Journey, the sand storm having ab- ated. One month later, a dusty, dirty, tired, hungry and footsore caravan slowly wound its way into the streets of Fez. Having reached their desti- nation, they disbanded, and went their many w ' ays. MORGAN COX. 0 Donald Johnson at noon — “There is something crusty in this bag. It must be Procrustes.” o HOLLY THE TABGET 37 Did you ever see a plant so jolly And ruddy-faced as the Holly? He sings and dances in Christinas weather. For he and St. Nick always come together He brings a word of Christmas cheer, Which to all people is so dear, And then he decorates windows and lights He’s the merriest of merry little sprites. He loves to sleep in his bed in the snow, Which comes at Christmas time we know; He only leaves his home because He hears the call of Santa Claus. JEAN WASTE. o THE BALLOON RACE. It was Sunday and the crowd had gathered in the recreation park to see the balloon race. The band was playing and there were seven bal- loons in the contest. The race was to be 2.50 miles. It happened that I was going to go up in one of the balloons. As the huge balloon bags w ' ere filling out with gas, the crowd was eagerly waiting for the start. Soon a pistol shot was heard and the spikes that held the balloons down were unfastened and the race started. We were soon soaring above all the other balloons, and the large cities and small villages. We were dropping ballast the higher up we went, and led the contest which made us feel free. I looked down and could see farmers working in their fields men and women hurrying back and forth, and automobiles and wagons racing up and down the paved roads. While I was gazing down at the towns that were below us, I heard a shout: it was from another balloon behind us. We had but 50 more miles to travel and our balloon was as though we were just barely moving while the other baloon was going swiftly. We dropped ballast and felt as if we would like to get out ourselves and thereby make more speed. All of our thoughts were attracted to our balloon. We had had only 25 miles to go so it was decided to let out some gas and fly lower. The race was now very exciting. Large crowds had gathered at the landing place to see the finish. We still had a good lead and came up above the terminus, when our balloon slackened its flight and the other balloon was gaining. By the quickness of the men in our balloon in letting out gas, we lowered to the ground and won the race. Our rival came 30 seconds behind us. And the other balloons had dropped out. There then came great cheers from the crowds and our balloon was put on board the train and carried to the city, w ' ith us. We made not only the fastest flight but went higher than any other balloon. LYLE MARSELLIS. o THE GHOST. How long he had slept, the boy couldn’t tell. He awoke with a start. He was visiting the lumber camp, and, coming a day too soon, had found it deserted. Being a light sleeper, the slight scratching followed by a soft thud in the farther end of the room had awak- ened him. Then came a death-like silence. Straining his eyes, the boy saw a large white object slowly and noiselessly rise to its feet and make its way towards the bed. The boy’s hair stood on end, for look- ing closely, he could dimly see the form of a chair through part of the ghost, for such he took it to be. On it came until it reached his bed, on which it proceeded, still noiselessly, to climb. The boy was frozen with fear. Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half passed thus, the boy gazing fearfully at the ghost, who stared back at him with small, cold eyes. Just as dawn appeared, the men returned. On opening the door, they laughed long and loud over the spectacle which greeted them, — the boy with his hair on end, staring horror struck at their pet bear who, coming through the window, as was his custom, had got entangled in a piece or mos- quito netting that hung there. LEROY McIntyre. :38 T HE TARGE T A COMEDY OF EDUCATION. All the school’s a stage, And all the inipils merely players: They have their triumphs and their failures ; And each one in his time plays many parts, His acts being many ages. At first the infant Crying and squirming o’er the “Rule of Three” And then the puzzling lower grader with his tear-stained And mournful looking face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly through verbs. Then comes the fifth year, Sighing like a furnace, with a woe- ful ballad Made to his first fractions. Then the sixth. Full of much wisdom, and swelling like the turkey. Contemptuous of the fifth, sudden and quick to dispute. Thinking his bubble reputation is in the working of his mouth. And then the seventh. In meek and sad demeanor with all severeness gone. With pleading eyes and hair of for- mal cut. Full of wise things but afraid to speak them; And so he plays his part. The next age shifts into the lean and awk- ward eighter. With dawning intelligence in eyes and books at side; And his small squeaky voice, Turning at last toward manly tone, roars And whistles when it sounds. Last scene of all. That ends this strange, eventful comedy, Is the great ninth grader, wisest patriarch of them all. REVERE HOFSTETTER. (With apologies to Jacques the Mel- ancholy). TO ELVIRA ERICKSON. Elvira’s hair is really straight. Except one day of late. When there appeared in manner weird, A mass of ringlets quaint. Blake Curley — “He woke up and then had a dream.” ■■ � Mr. Cobert in Latin — First I shall take Caesar’s life.” ♦ Miss Sue Smith to Thomas Bar- rows— “I’m conducting a study period not a nursery.” � Howard Moore, unable to see the example on the board that Kenneth Conner was explaining— “He’d make a better door than a window.” ’ Miss S. Smith— “What does ’he girded up his loins’ mean?” Evelyn Mitchell — “It means that he gat hered up his hips.” Miss Martin in study period— I wish you people would admire your books more.” � do you get in English?” B, who was just starting algebra — “Negative one.” Carl Biddle — “Flies, flies, every- where, lots to eat, and lots to spare.” Miss Allen — “How can you keep a man home?” Julian Prosser — “Keep his pocket- book.” « Josephine Halverson — “It’s a met- aphor in bed.” Teacher to Eleanor Bonner — “What is the cow doing when it is rumin- ating?” Eleanor, after some hesitation — “He is thinking.” Helen Trevor, talking about the dentist to Frances IMorris — “He isn’t going to crown you, is he?” Lindsay Campbell in History — Parker was killed and then he gave the order to retreat.” Miss Ellerhorst — “I will ask the high ninth girls to sing ’On the beau- ful Sea.’” Miss Martin in H Sth Latin Class— I will ask you to put up your play- things and get to work.” 0 J39 THE TARGET TO ROBERTA BERRY In the heart of Bob, buried deep; so deep, A sweet little voice lies fast asleep. “Come out,” cries the teacher,” and show ' us your might.” “Come out,” cries poor Bob, who is really quite bright. And the little voice hears and comes to see If wonderful Bob a Melba could be. o BEACHEY’S ONLY RIVAL— MOR- GAN COX. Twinkle, twinkle! Auburn hair. We all wonder how you dare. To stay above our heads so high, .lust like Beachey in the sky. Listen, listen! Auburn hair, B’s only rival in the air. Don’t you think if you came down, ph, Mazda, you’d be less a clown? o Margaret Spalding in Latin — “A cardinal number is red.” Albert Raymond confidentially — “I am not going to Vassar or any of those.” Hi Blanche Harris, looking at Clay Farnsworth’s hair — “Oh look at Clay Spohn’s French roll. ♦ While the fire engines w’ere rush- ing dow ' n the street, two children were heard to speak. Girl — “I wonder if there’s a fire.” Boy — “No, they’re exercising the horses.” Girl — “I don’t see any horses.” Boy — “No, they’re exercising the horse power.” Mr. Cobert in Latin — “Cicero was the greatest Roman orator.” Westcott Porter — “He hasn’t any- thing on Mr. Cobert.” Elizabeth Burke to Florine Wurk- heim standing alone in the basement — “Don’t you know you shouldn’t stand in groups in the basement?” sH Mr. Beardsley— “Another thing I want to bring out is — -Westcott?” If: Mr. Beardsley — “When they had a contagious disease a little while ago, for each ground squirrel caught, a reward was given to the finder.” Charles Woodworth — “Do they still give the reward?” Mabel Johnson and Margaret Spald- ing were walking to school, when an old man with a pitch-fork over his shoulder came along and Mabel wisely said — “Oh, Margaret, there goes Nep- tune.” Mr. Beardsley — “The pastures for the mission flocks were sometimes hundreds of thousands of acres in ex- tent.” Irene Paret — -“Did they have a fence around them?” siJ BY SPECIAL WIRELESS TO THE “TARGET” The greatest event in the history of McKinley happened a few days ago w’hen Earle Lowell suddenly hap- pened to remember there was a “Tar- get” meeting and arrived almost on time. Victor Bigelow got the fright of his life w ' hen he was informed that he was wanted by Miss Christy. It turned out, however, that Miss Christy wanted the “Victor” machine instead of Victor. Victor is slowly recover- ing from the shock. ❖ ❖ Yes, George Bliss was forced to be absent recently to escape the spelling t6St. OWEN’S “OVERLAND.” Owen had an “Overland”, Its sides were painted black. When Owen took it for a spin He’d have to tow (toe) it back. o Mr. Beardsley was speaking of quacks in the government when a loud quack was hea rd in the back of the room— “Who is the quack we have here?” And Margaret Spaulding raised her hand. Eleanor Tingman in lunch room— “Who wants half a doughnut?” Gertrude Holland — “What if we all want one? I’m afraid we’d get a negative quantity.” ' 40 V THE TAKGET AFFORD, A FORD! MY KINGDOM FOR A FORD. Victor had a little “Ford,” In which he rode just like a lord. One day he was traveling in the thing When the bloomin’ tire, it soon went bing! Bigelow then disturbed got out And looked as though he was going to bout; Tool box quickly he did ope. That with the problem he might cope. Peeled off coat and slid right under. To see which part had come asunder. Never dreaming of the tire. Which many times had stuck in mire. Finally he unlocked the trouble. And with one great mighty bubble, Victor started his dear Fordling. And continued like a lordiing. o Mr. Cobert — “The voice of the peo- ple is the voice of God.” Henry Haines — “How about Pro- hibition?” Hi 4: Miss Christy reading in English — “Look you who comes here.” At that moment Kenneth Emslie appeared. 4: In orchestra practice. Miss Eller- horst — “Why do you always beat time with your foot?” Arthur G. — “It’s the music in my sole(soul), I guess.” ai: LOST — A perfectly good real chamois powder rag. Reward offered when returned to grief-stricken owner. (Eleanor Livingston) 4: :i( 4c Standish Donogh, giving modifying participles — “The duck, having a little down on its bill, started a charge account.” ♦ Mother — “Who said,“Give me lib- erty or give me death”? Ruth McBride — “Patrick Henry.” Mother — “Who said, ‘We will hang together or not at all?”’ Ruth — “The wash woman.” Why is Henry Thomas like Orion’s dog? Because he is “Sirius.” � TO ALBERT RAYMOND. There is a young boy we call Flea, Who’s as little as little can be; At times he’s so small. We can’t see him at all. This tiny, wee chap we call Flea. o Why did Lawson Poss go to Europe To see how “Frances.” 4: 4: Henry Haines was experimenting with paints when Geraldine Sullivan came up the aisle. Geraldine — “Oh, aren’t you afraid they will run?” Henry — “Oh, no, not unless some one chases them.” Miss Christy — “What was Atalan- ta’s better part?” (referring to her swift legs) Charles Woodworth — “Her husband 4: 4( 4e Alfred Underhill, throwing away his gum — “Eventually, — Why not now?” 4: Mr. Beardsley — “Who is making that noise?” Philip Ramsdell — “I am, I did it with my watch.” Mr. Beardsley — “That’s the first time I ever saw a watch used for a pistol.” 4: 4c Eleanor Tingman in High Ninth History — “If a man got off the car the right way and got killed could he sue the company?” Ruth Gompertz, speaking of the war — “Poland and those little coun- tries don’t cut any ice.” Little brother — “Why they do too. They cut more ice than any country in the world.” 4c 4( ♦ A man had just said good-bye to a very small girl, when he thought he heard her speak, so he said — “Did you speak?” Small girl (to the cat)— “Stop meowing.” 4c 4: A small boy, after having been told to say “excuse me” when passing in front of someone, stepped in front of a woman and after thinking in- tently said: “Don’t mention it.” «