Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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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

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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.

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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.