Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Text from Pages 1 - 72 of the 1926 volume:

i MiilllMiii: , 7 ? y — W Ward Junior High School J U-N E , 1926 BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA ia [ai 1 r 1 ■ f 1 1 j 1 1 h k 1 1 1 1 1 j 1 1 r 1 3 1 1 1 t - h 1 1 1 r j 1 1 1 r 1 [ 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 r 1 1 1 1 1 c 1 1 1 1 1 1 h l 1 : f ; 1 1 r ■ r r ■ 1 1 4 t d 1 J 1 1 f 1 1 i 1 J 1 J 1 r 1 1 r r l 1 1 1 1 1 J 1 1 1 1 : 1 1 1 1= ■ 1 : : 1 J 1 1 1 1- ■ f 1 1 1 p : ■ p r 1 1 1 ; 1 1 ■ 1 1 1 1 1 f ■- . — Man Yoo and the Sacred Beads HE quiet of a sultry African day was broken when a line of chil- dren burst from a white building. The heat of the day was heavy over the land but the children did not mind. Each wended lis way to the hut which was home. In the midst of this procession Man Yoo, an African native, slid into the forest which enclosed the village. Slowly, silently he wended his way. Hardly could he be distin- guished from the thick undergrowth. The wind was blowing toward him. Suddenly he crouched, for his keen nostrils had detected a warn- ing smell. A little ahead of him in a tree was a huge gorilla. Man Yoo waited quietly until this hairy creature moved on and then he proceeded on his course. He had not far to travel and soon came to a spring. Here he rested and reaching into the hollow of a tree he brought out several pieces of ivory. For a minute he held up a string of beads of the finest workman- ship. Man Yoo did not look at his finished product long but began im- mediately to work on another. As he was busily working, a piercing cry rent the quiet of his surroundings. He sat motionless. The cry was repeated and accom- panied by the steady beat of drums. The boy thrust his hand in the tree ' s hollow and deposited the ivory. Then he glided through the brush in the direction of his village. As he ran into the village, a cry of rehei was raised. Here he is ! Man Yoo, Man Yoo, hurry! Why did you frighten us so? We thought the neighboring tribe had captured you, for they are on the war path. V arious other cries greeted him as the men and boys gathered to decide what was to be done to protect their homes. He wended his way toward the center of the crowd. There the white men seemed to be leading the natives. Let Man Yoo, our chief ' s son, decide what shall be done in his father ' s absence, spoke an aged man. The natives turned to Man Yoo as their leader. Silently he stood, weighing in his mind the several propositions he had heard. His eye swept over the crowd and finally rested upon the most trusted missionarv. He regarded him thoughtfully. Let our ' White Father ' decide, he said. Thus the crowd looked for guidance to an elderly man. This man had come with his wife to teach at their school. It had taken them a long time to win the confidence of the natives. In this moment they were paid for all their trouble. A neighboring tribe had risen against the Christians. This tribe was strong and therefore dangerous. The White Father stationed the men around the village. This was done none too soon for suddenly weird noises were heard. The natives listened. With one impulse they turned to Man Yoo. This was not a war cry but a cry of victory. Their youthful leader listened intently. His bewilderment turned to realization of the awful truth. When he had been making the sacred necklace, a spy had seen him and reported the fact. The tribe instead of coming to war had gone and seized the necklace. As it was holy, they would be victorious as long as they held it. He asked the White Father if he might see him. As he com- plied, Man Yoo slipped into the tent followed by the natives ' friend. When he was inside, he told the missionary what had happened. Im- mediately the White Father understood. Although he did not believe in the superstitions of the natives, he realized that he would not be able to control them if the necklace was not returned. They decided that Man Yoo should go to this camp in disguise and get the beads. They told the natives it was necessary for Man Yoo to make a trip to another mission. The natives were satisfied because this was often done. Late in the afternoon, Man Yoo set out for the neighboring village. It was intensely dark when he arrived at his destination. There were no guards around and so he was able to creep quietly from one hut to another. Finally he came to the most pretentious one. This was their religious house. Silently Man Yoo entered and soon located the beads. He glided out of the hut. A dog near by awakened and sent out the alarm. Although dressed like the inhabitants of the village, Man Yoo could not speak their language. In the dark he was mistaken for one of the young braves. The natives consulted him. He could not under- stand this language and without thinking replied in his native tongue. The people fell back in amazement, and then they fell upon him. Bind- ing him, they threw him on the ground in a hut. The next day the natives came to the tent and tortured him but they did not find the beads. That night several wild animals visited the camp. The people with fear consulted their soothsayer. He told them that the gods were angry because they held a certain prisoner. He also said they should free him or the wrath of the gods would be upon them. Thinking that it was Man Yoo, of whom he spoke, they went to his prison and freed him. Then taking him to the woods, they pointed out the path and told him to go. Gladly he left their village. Upon arriving at his home, the braves rushed up and seized him. His disguise had been well carried out! Too astonished to speak, he was carried nearly the length of the village. He suddenly realized that they were going to throw him in prison. He protested, but the braves laughed at him. To prove that he was Man Yoo, he drew out the beads. Instantly the braves released him. They stood back and worshiped him, as was their habit. The women and children were astonished to see their braves worshiping a brave from the other tribe. When they heard the joyful news, they prepared a great banquet. The natives always attributed their later success to Man Yoo, who rescued the sacred beads of his own making. — LEORA HILLERMAN. O If I Were But a Buttercup If I were but a buttercup, How happy I should be To lift my face up to the skies And live a life so free. I ' d smile at every butterfly, And nod to all the bees, And tell them, You can come and go As often as you please. I ' d dance with every little breeze That blew along my way, And laugh with every little child That came near me to play. I ' d cheer each weary passerby By nodding him, Good-day, And hope that it would help him some Along his dreary way. Then when the stars began to blink, And ' twas the end of day, I ' d say, Good-night, to everything And fold my cares away. — MADELEINE BOND. Getting a Fit for Peggy T WAS one of the first April days. The birds were singing, the bees humming, the wind whispering among the trees, and the flowers blooming. Peggy Adams hurried joyfully into the school grounds glad that winter ' s reign had at last past. She was greeted by a group of laughing girls. Peggy, we want to go for a hike into the country, Saturday. How about it? That ' s tomorrow, you know. We haven ' t been able to go on a hike for ages, piped in Joanna. That will be just swell, replied Peggy. I ' m just sick of movies and roasted marshmallows. Oh, goodie! A hike for me any day. Just what I wanted. Maybe it will ram, suggested Patricia. Wet blanket. Listen, girls. Meet at my house at ten and bring your lunches, called Peggy. Then the school bell rang. As Peggy was passing to her class room, she happened to overhear part of a conversation. I don ' t see why she ' s so popular, Doris was saying to her chum. We have much more money than she has and yet that set never so much as looks at us. And the clothes she wears! June replied. They ' re her sister ' s cast off junk. Peggy blushed, bit her hp, and hurried on. It was true. She did have to wear her sister ' s clothes. But she couldn ' t help it and didn ' t like to have other girls talk about it. The reason that they were not popular, Peggy could have told them, was that they thought too much about themselves. The rest of the school day passed slowly on and many times the stinging remarks of the morning made Peggy blush anew. — o — Really, mother, I want a new dress, Dorothy, Peggy ' s older sister was saying to her mother, and I need a new coat and hat to match. Dorothy, I think Peggy should have some new clothes, now. You are always having new things, replied Mrs. Adams. Oh, mother, the girl replied impatiently, she ' s only in High School. I ' ll give her this new jersey of mine. Mrs. Adams always granted every whim of her oldest girl, and in a moment, she was taking the new dress to Peggy. Entering Peggy ' s room, she found her studying as she had surmised. Margaret darling, sister says she will give you this new jersey of hers. She ' s had it only two months and I think you might thank her for it, Mrs. Adams tactfully began. I ' d thank her to keep her own clothes, Peggy retorted. Why, Peg — , Margaret, I ' m surprised. Well, mother, you know she ' s bigger than I am and her clothes always look like potato bags on me. Peggy paused and then continued, She knows I ' m prettier than she is and she ' s jealous. I ' ve got curly hair and dimples. Her mother quite taken back at this new attitude in Peggy, merely responded, I ' m very much surprised at you. — o — The next day was Saturday. It dawned bright and fair. Peggy rose singing a happy little tune. I guess, she murmured, I ' ll wear the jersey. It ' s warm and I will not have to take a coat. It ' s quite pretty! If only it would fit me! But it ' s too long, and baggy about the waist. An hour later, laughing voices were heard and five merry girls called at the Adams ' s door. Hello, girls, I ' m coming. Oh, Peg, isn ' t it just a perfect day? Yes, and here I am, replied the leader. Forward, march. It ' s just about ten and we can go about five miles before we eat lunch. Patricia groaned. She was a pretty, dainty girl, but not much given to sports. Five miles is awfully far! Conversation never lagged until Patricia questioned with a sigh, What time is it, Peggy? I ' m sure we ' ve walked ten miles. Poor child, cooed Peggy, it ' s half past eleven and we ' ve not walked over four miles at the most. It ' s getting hot, chimed in Jean. Let ' s stop as soon as we find a nice spot. Yes, let ' s. It ' s getting sultry, too, Mary spoke up. I think I see just the place, called Helen who was in the lead. The spot she had sighted proved to be just right. It was a clump of trees and trickling through it was a small brook. They soon reached the spot and began arranging the lunches. Patricia shall be our fairy queen, called Peggy. Poor fairy queen is all tired out. Here ' s a posy wreath for her curls. All the girls entered gaily into the sport. They did not notice the darkening sky until big drops fell on the leaves overhead. Then there were exclamations of concern. Oh, gracious! cried Mary, I don ' t want to get all wet. Fairy queen, please stop the rain, begged Peggy, trying to keep the sport going, as well as to perk up the drooping spirits of her com- panions ; but it was impossible. Oh, Peggy, how can you? Don ' t you mind getting wet? re- proached Jean. Well, we can ' t help it, so we may as well stay here and make the best of it. April showers come and go, replied Peggy. The girls played around for awhile and tried to be merry and gay but none of them were good actresses. What time is it? Two- fifteen. Girls, don ' t be so depressed. We can ' t help it. Let ' s wait here till three. Then, even if it is still raining, we ' ll go. All right, let ' s hope for the best, replied Helen, Finally, three o ' clock came and it was raining the way it does when it means never to stop. Come, girls. Here we go, called the leader. Oh, Peggy, sobbed Patricia, I wore my new camping outfit for the first time. It ' ll get all spoilt. Wait a little longer. Let ' s wait, Peggy. The fairy queen has her way, replied Peggy with a deep curtsy. Time passed slowly but at three-ten the girls finally set out. That homeward journey did not seem to be made by the same girls. The farther they walked and the more it rained, the lower the girls ' spirits drooped. Finally they reached the town and parted on their various ways. Good-bye, called Peggy. ' Bye, murmured the rest. When Peggy reached home, she realized with a depressed feeling that the jersey loaded with water was longer and baggier. Peggy, dear, are you safe? exclaimed her anxious mother. Hop into bed and read. You may have supper in bed, too. After hanging the shapeless dress over the furnace draught, Peggy did as her mother suggested, ate some supper and then went to sleep, worn out with the excitement of the day. The next morning was again sunny. When Peggy finally got up and was putting on the now dry jersey, she thought it felt smaller. Look- ing in the mirror, she found it had shrunk to an exact fit. By giving it a pull here and there, she had it looking quite classy. April showers can do some good after all, she laughed. To- day ' s Sunday so I ' ll put on my pumps and new silk stockings. They ' re about the only things I have that were given to me when they were new. While she had been talking, she had hastily dressed and now viewed herself in the mirror. Not half bad, was her brief comment. Then combing her wavy bobbed hair, she slipped into her sister ' s room and, tak- ing a narrow blue ribbon from the dressing table, she twined it about her head twice. I ' m quite good looking after all. Running downstairs, she surprised her mother and sister by her smart appearance. Well! ejaculated Dorothy. You ' re not a baby any more. Are you, dear? I guess High School girls are not too young to have pretty clothes, remarked Mrs. Adams. Oh, how silly! She ' s only in High School, mother, replied Dorothy. What did you have when you were in High School? asked Mrs. Adams. — o — On Monday, Peggy Adams was absent. This was an unusual oc- currence and Helen suggested that Peggy probably had a cold from their Saturday picnic. On Tuesday, Peggy appeared all decked out in new clothes from head to toe. — VESTA NICKERSON. O Castles When the sun is setting And the sky ' s of golden hue, Then is the time to be thoughtful And build your castles new. Build your castles tall and strong, Make them of the purest. Have them fair in every way And they will build success each day. BETTY SHADE. The Soul of a Pine Tree AM A beautiful pine tree at the edge of the ocean shore. I am the only tree for miles around ; only rocks and sand keep me company beside the incessant murmur of the ocean. Although alone, I am not lonely. Can you guess why? Many lonely folks both young and old come to sit beneath my branches. They touch my bark and talk to me. They tell me how lonely they are or I hear their troubles. Many a man confides in me the inmost thoughts of his soul, things he ' d never tell another. Although I can not answer their pitiful questions, my soul responds in deep feeling. The beauty of a tree as of anything is its soul. Hard souls rest in rock or stone, I know, because I have one rock friend who talks very disagreeably and meanly. He has grown to be what his soul expressed. A sad thing has happened in my life which makes me love all strangers. It is this: Many years ago, a boy used to come to me every day and talk and laugh beneath my branches. Finally he grew to be a man. He was very lonely for often he told me that he had no friends. I grew to love him more and more. I eagerly awaited his coming each day. He also loved me, because more than once he as much as told me so. Then one day I waited in vain. He did not come that day nor the next. In fact he did not come for many, many days. A long time I waited, One day I heard a faint tap-tap-tap. I looked eagerly around and saw to my unspeakable joy, my dearest friend. He was changed! He wore a brown uniform. I noticed he carried a strange cane which I had never seen before. I looked at his eyes. They were so strange looking, v ide and staring straight ahead. He came directly toward me, laid down his cane and held on to me, as a drowning man would hold to a limb of a tree. My greatest desire was that I had arms so that I could hold him and touch him. He wept like a child and told me all that he had been through for two years. He had been to war. Now he was blinded. Once again I knew happiness. Every day at the same time he would come and stay till evening. Although he was in perpetual dark- ness, he seemed to know when the world ' s night came. That was many years ago when I was young. That dear man is now dead and buried at my feet where he wished to be buried. He taught me my big life lesson to love all and share troubles in my silent way. HINDA MORGAN. Spring Day in the Woods It was Spring Day in the woods, The animals all with care Dressed up in colorful costumes — Even the gruff old bear. The king sat on his great big throne Surveying the colorful scene. Beneath him sang the birds and bees Who laughed and played on the green. Then a band of musical crickets Struck up a lively tune, Which started the animals dancing. The crow danced with the coon. When the gay dancing had ended, They all formed in a line And marched beneath the cool green trees Ere they sat down to dine. The animals were very hungry, So they proceeded to lunch. The frogs ate bottled up flies, While the birds drank glasses of punch. The frogs did some marvelous diving Which amused the rest of the crowd. Then a bird sang some very sweet solos And was praised till she was quite proud. When the sun began to sink in the west, They homeward wended their way. So Spring Day ended for this year To come again next May. — ENID CLAYTON. The Shattered Arrow HE Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River is a great canyon with walls from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet high. The great glacier which carved it out of solid granite has polished its sides and bottom so that they reflect like a mirror, and, naturally, are very slippery. The Tuolumne River which runs at the bottom of its canyon tumbles over falls and occasionally glides through flowery glens. In one o f the cascades the river runs down a steep incline of smooth solid granite, and makes falls which look very shallow and easy to cross, but which, in fact, are very hard to pass over because of the shpperiness and the rushing water. These falls are called by the Americans Water Wheel Falls, because of the peculiar formation which makes the water dash into the air and look like a wheel. The California Indians call them Bounding Deer Falls, because once a buck, hard pressed, crossed the falls. One summer, before the coming of the white man, a tribe of Cali- fornia Indians was encamped in the largest glen of the canyon. The Indian camp was large, for Bounding Deer Canyon afforded a good camp site and was full of game. The camp must have contained three hundred lodges. Between these lodges some women were tanning skins and others were going about their household work. Most of the warriors were hunting, although a few were in camp to protect it from an unexpected attack. At the beginning of the evening, the men came in, singly or in groups, carrying deer, fowl, and one had a cinnamon bear. In one of the groups was White Raven, a prominent young man of the tribe, because he was fair, brave, and a good hunter. He carried a five prong buck. After him came Bear Claws, a young man, who looked at White Raven with envious eyes when he compared his little doe to the other ' s fine buck. They went to their respective lo dges to have their mothers cut up the deer they had brought in, for butchery was squaws ' work. Bear Claws took some of the best meat of his doe and carried it to a lodge that was a little apart from the center of the camp. It was where Eyes-of-the - Fawn lived with her mother. Eyes-of-the-Fawn ' s father had died and she and her mother lived with the tribe, largely depending on generous hunters or admirers of Eyes-of-the-Fawn. When Bear Claws had hung the meat at her door, he retired behind a lodge to see her take it. But soon he saw White Raven come and hang his gift of choice meat at her door and retire. Soon Eyes-of-the-Fawn came out and looked at the meat. Al- though she had not seen those who had placed it there, she knew by the quality of the meat who had left it. She took White Raven ' s gift and left Bear Claw ' s meat hanging there. Bear Claws was very angry and said : I will get White Raven, and put him out of my way. Three days later, Bear Claws saw that Eyes-of-the-Fawn pre- ferred White Raven to him. Many times he saw her smile at his rival and once he saw them talking together. But not once did she pay any attention to him. On the fourth day, Eyes-of-the-Fawn went to the river for water, and White Raven followed her and met her in a secluded part of the path. My darling Eyes-of-the-Fawn, meet me at the Great Rock when the moon rises over the cliff, he said. She looked shyly down but nodded her head. When the moon rose over Great Rock that night, Eyes-of-the-Fawn was on top of it. Bear Claws, coming back from a late hunting trip, saw the figure and as he knew the rock was a rendezvous for lovers, he was convinced that the figure was White Raven. All the hate flared up in Bear Claws and he remembered what he had vowed four days ago. He said to himself that he would end White Raven now and that persons would think that he had been killed by some wandering enemy. So he strung his bow and put his best arrow on the string. Just then the figure stood up and walked slowly down the rock. Bear Claws drew the arrow to the head and let it go. Eyes-of-the-Fawn, while sitting on the rock, sensed that White Raven was near so she stood up and slowly walked down the rock. Just as Bear Claws loosed his arrow, her foot, wetted by the dew, came in contact with the extremely smooth places in the granite that the glacier had worn many ages ago. Her foot slipped and she fell, while the messenger of death whirred over the place where she had been and shat- tered itself on the granite floor. Oh, my darling, are you hurt? What has happened? White Raven cried. Pursue him, pursue him. It was the dog Bear Claws who tries to love me. I saw him as I fell. He went to the westward. White Raven was gone in a flash. He was a good tracker and could see Bear Claws ' trail. Bear Claws went to the westward, down the canyon toward Bounding Deer Falls. White Raven gained on Bear Claws steadily and was scarce one- half mile away from the falls. Bear Claws would either have to make a stand at the falls or try to cross them. He decided to do the latter, for he knew White Raven could overpower him, although he himself was of heavier build. The best place to cross was half way down the incline. When he was ready to cross, he saw White Raven at the top. White Raven began to descend and Bear Claws rushed into the water. He got half way across to a little island in the middle. A few more leaps and he would reach safety, but he never got to the other bank, for he was swept to his death in the rushing torrent. Die, dog, die! shouted White Raven, when he saw his rival swept away to his death. He walked back to the Great Rock, reflecting on what had hap- pened. He reached the rock and Eyes-of-the-Fawn was still waiting for him. He took her tenderly in his arms and whispered: The Great Spirit in the Bounding Deer Falls has taken him. To- morrow I will put the price at your mother ' s door. There, many years after, on the Great Rock I found Bear Claws ' arrow. STEWART KIMBALL. o Willie ' s Perplexity Willie Jones was a well mannered little boy. However, there came a time when his manners had to give way to his fondness for eats. One day his mother had some guests in for an old-fashioned dinner served in an old-fashioned way. The evening went very well for all present until the dessert was passed around. Willie could not sit at the first table as there was not enough room. He did not like the idea of waiting as he was afraid that there would not be any pie left for him. But on the assurance of his mother that there would surely be one piece left for manners, he consented to sit at the second table. Unseen by the guests, he watched the progress of the dinner anxiously through a crack in the kitchen door. At last the pie was served. His anxiety grew. Before his bewildered little mind, the last piece was taken. And almost instantly he exclaimed, There it goes, manners and all, just as I expected ! — THIRZA TRENERY. Prince David RINCE DAVID lay back in the bed, his face white and drawn. He was in a spacious, comfortable bed in a large airy room of his father ' s beautiful castle. The door opened and his physician entered. Well, my little prince, said the physician, how are you feeling this morning? Not a bit well, answered the prince. Can ' t you make me better? The best cure for you, answered the doctor, is happiness. Why, when you ' re well, you ' re the happiest little boy I know. Can ' t you be happy and bear your troubles while you ' re ill? But how can I be happy, asked David, when I can ' t get up and play? There ' s nothing to do when you ' re in bed. Nothing to do? said the doctor. He looked around the room. It was filled with all kinds of things to amuse a little sick boy. There were books, games, puzzles, everything. The doctor laughed. Nothing to do! Well, good-bye, David. I hope you feel better the next time I call. In an adjoining room the physician met the king. How is he? asked the king. Not very well, answered the physician. He ' s too unhappy. I ' ve tried everything, said the king despairingly. It might have been different if he ' d had his mother ' s care, although I know Nancy takes fine care of him. But. . . it is different. The king sighed. I ' ll try as hard as I can, but if something doesn ' t happen before long I don ' t know what I shall do. Would you like me to read to you? asked Nancy, entering David ' s room. When David had been smaller she had been called Nurse Nancy, but now that he was eleven, she was called just Nancy. She took care of David as tenderly as any mother could. David loved her very dearly only he did not realize how impolite and cross he had been to her during his illness. Well, my boy, she asked, is there anything I can do for you? No, answered David. Do you want to read a book? Let ' s see that one, over there, he answered. Take it away, it ' s the most uninteresting book I ever looked at. No, I don ' t want to. play any games or to work puzzles. I wish you ' d leave me alone. Nancy had no sooner left the room than David heard a tapping on the window pane. He looked up. The window opened and there stood a little man dressed from head to toe in a suit of bright blue. He held in his hand a large key that glistened in the sunlight. Who are you? asked David. Ah! said the little man, I am the Blue Elf of Happiness. Well, what do you want? David asked. I want to make you happy, answered the Blue Elf. You can ' t do it, said David. ' You ' d be surprised at some of the things I can do, answered the elf. Now the first thing to do is to take this key and unlock your treasure cove of happiness. How can you do that? asked David. I ' ll show you, answered the elf. He took the large key, held it up to David, and then turned it. Now your happiness is unlocked, he said. How silly, said David, laughing. But you see the key had unlocked his happiness already or else he wouldn ' t have laughed. Now the secret of happiness, said the elf, is this: When any- one asks you if you want to play a game as Nancy did this morning, say, ' Yes, thank you, that would be fine ' . But what if I don ' t want to, asked David, and how did you know I didn ' t want to do anything this morning? Oh! but now that your happiness is unlocked, you will want to, answered the elf. And as to me, why, David, I know everything you do. Well now, David, would you like to read a book? Yes, please, that would be fine, he answered. The elf brought him the book that Nancy had brought in the morning. That book does look interesting after all, said David, very interesting. And this game must be full of fun ! Will you play it with me ? No, David, I must go. Ask someone else to play it with you, but don ' t make a bother of yourself. You can be happy alone with your books and puzzles. Good-bye, David. When the king entered Prince David ' s room, he found his son wore a beaming face. He caught him in his arms saying, Ah, my little son looks better. I am, father, cried David, for I have found that the secret of happiness is to be kind and pleasant. — ELIZABETH PENNELL. The Storm Ring t v. WAS traveling in Mexico when I took a small sailing boat from Guaymas to La Pass, Lower California. Ordinarily I wouldn ' t have gone in a small boat at that time of the year, because one can ' t depend on them. I naturally had many forebodings. The captain was an American who couldn ' t speak Spanish. Supposing the crew, which was composed of four Mexicans, mutinied . The crew couldn ' t speak English so the captain didn ' t know their characteristics. I wouldn ' t have taken this boat if there had been a steamer coming, but there wasn ' t. It was a glorious day in March that the boat left with a favorable wind. The next day about ten o ' clock in the morning there was an ab- solute calm, not even breeze enough to stir a handkerchief when held up. There was very little current, if any, and the boat did not have any kind of a power engine. In the distant sky we could see a storm ring, which put us all on edge. Late that night the storm descended in all its fury. The captain gave me the orders and I translated them. Reef the storm sail, and so forth. For a few minutes the boat whirled around crazily, then sud- denly it shot ahead like a flood coming down a mountain stream. It was then that 1 truly knew the significance of the vessel ' s name, The Hellwinder. All sails were pulled down, but the boat still shot ahead like mad. The captain bade me take the wheel while he fixed sundry things. No one had any idea of the direction in which we were going. Soon we came to a rocky and barren coast. As I remember it now it seemed as if we were going over twenty-five miles an hour. I was so sick that I could hardly do as bidden. I hadn ' t received any orders for some time, so I looked around, but to my dismay couldn ' t find the captain. I turned out to the leeward suddenly to avoid a precipice. The boa nearly capsized as it sheered off rapidly hitting a huge wave sideways. I soon lost the coast as it was night, but determined to do my best. All night the vessel went madly along. As the first sign of morn- ing appeared, I determined to keep going in one direction. I remem- bered the storm had come from the east so I went with the wind. Directly ahead of me was a fog-bank. I shuddered as the small vessel went through what was seemingly space. In about fifteen minutes, I saw a light ahead, so I ordered the men to stop the boat. The vessel lay at anchor for nearly two hours when the fog rose and wonder of wonders, we were in the harbor of La Pass! We found the captain in the hold of the ship with a broken leg and very excited at our luck. JACK MARCHANT. The Birds ' Spring Festival HAT a loud noise there was among the birds. Every bird in Berkeley was singing its prettiest spring song. Mr. Carrier- Pigeon was carrying invitations to all the society birds which announced the Spring Festival to be held at the Bird Stadium on the corner of Worm and Bug streets. Yellow-wing, the flicker, and Downy, the woodpecker, put posters on all the old trees they could find. Red- tail, the hawk, and Spooky, the screech owl, carried the news to all the schools. When the day set for the festival came, all the birds appeared in their finest attire. Redwing, the blackbird, had had his wings painted a brighter red for the occasion by Hummer, the ruby-throated humming bird. Sammy Jay had had his swallow-tail coat painted bright blue with stripes of black and white. Tommy Tit, the chickadee, came in his best flappers. King Eagle had a new ermine and velvet coat, and the Queen, Lady Golden of Paradise, had a golden crown and was accompanied by her maid, Mary, the fan-tailed pigeon, who fanned her mistress at long intervals. The birds assembled in the stadium waiting for the program to com- mence. King Eagle assisted by Knocker, the yellow-hammer, and the Queen, Lady Golden of Paradise, sat on their golden perches at one end of the stage, while on the other end sat Jabber, the parrot. The meeting was called to order by Knocker, the yellow-hammer, and, when the audience was quieted, Jabber announced that Carol, the meadow lark, would sing Home, Sweet Home. As soon as Carol began to sing, Mourner, the dove, began to weep and attracted the at- tention of the whole audience. Next the male quartet sang Johnnie Get Your Gun, and Comin ' Thru ' the Rye. As the quartet was singing Johnny Get Your Gun, little Will, the baby crow, began to cry for he had heard the word gun and he was afraid. Just then a shrill voice sounded over the dead silence of the stadium — Whip-poor- Will. The next number entitled, Spring Has Come, was sung by Bubbling Bob, the bobolink, accompanied on the harp by Vesper, the lyre. The audience applauded heartily and Bubbling Bob sang as an encore, It Ain ' t Gon ' a Rain No More. Bob White spoke an original poem next entitled The Early Bird Catches the Worm. The birds were getting a little restless but, when Boomer, the night owl. sang Oh How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning, it broke all restlessness into laughter. There was so much laughing that Knocker had to pound very hard to quiet the crowd of laughing birds. When the birds were quiet, Jabber, the parrot, announced that lunch was ready to serve at Oak Hall. All the birds flew as fast a they could to the many tables laden with lettuce salad, bread crumbs, fish worms, and every kind of bug imaginable. There were also many tables laden with fruit for dessert. The birds all had their share of the food, but Mr. Hawk had a large appetite and stole a fat worm. He was in the act of stealing another when the king came around the corner. It was then about seven-thirty o ' clock and the baby birds were very sleepy, so their mothers took them home. When the children were put to bed, the mothers went to the Princess ' Ball. The great success of the Spring Festival and the ball was published in the bird paper, Treetop News, and every year since there has been a festival among the birds as a rejoicing of spring. —MARGARET COE. O An Old Indian Legend N THE Nevada Desert there is a tract of land the size of one acre, and in this acre is a cemetery used for Indians who had lost their lives in battle. A little distance away there stands a queer shaped stone on which are many carvings. I will try to relate as clearly as possible the legend connected with this. In the early eighties, there dwelt a tribe of Indians on one side of the desert, and on the other side of the desert there lived an enemv tribe. It finall y came to pass that the braves of one tribe started on the war path. It was a coincidence that the braves of the other tribe started on the war path at the same time. They met in the middle of the desert, and they dashed like waves of the ocean. After a night of furious battle one side was reduced to a mere twenty, but on the other side there remained but one huge chief. He was bleeding from many wounds and was fast weakening. When he saw such odds, he started to run, beating down an opponent every once m awhile like an angry bear. At last he dropped to the ground from the lack of blood. The braves of the other tribe realized he was a hero, so they set up a monument in his memory. ALBERTA PEARD. The Ballad of the Boy and the Bee As I walked through the meadow one summer day, I met a busy bee. Said I, Good afternoon, Sir Bee. Good afternoon, said he. May I go with you to see your queen, And see your comrades there? If you will bring some honey, You in our feast may share. Perplexed, I walked a little way, Till I met a Buttercup. Hast thou, fair lady, some honey to sell, For I with the queen must sup? The Buttercup shook its head and said, I have not a drop of honey; I have only yellow butter for sale. I can not take your money. I passed on through the meadow green, And heard the Dogwood bark; The puppy flowers made so much noise I could not hear the lark. A Honeysuckle last I met, And to her told my tale. She gave me all I wanted In a flowery pail. Then back I went to good Sir Bee, Who took me to the queen. The fun we had that summer night By mortals is not seen. — RUSKIN HOWELL. Fortunes EE, exclaimed Matilda, do you think that the fortuneteller told us the truth? Why, asked Frances, did she tell you something awful? She said that I would be very sick, answered Matilda. Several days later their mother and father were talking together. What do you think makes Matilda look so ill? asked her mother. Don ' t worry, answered her husband, she is all right. But she wasn ' t all right as we find her in bed several days later attended by a doctor who says that the only thing that will restore her health is a trip to the mountains. As doctor ' s orders are usually obeyed, Matilda, Frances, and their mother and father were soon in a well- furnished log cabin in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Matilda ' s health resort was a very picturesque place. It was large and stood in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by large redwoods. A porch extended across one side of the house. Over the porch grew a beautiful wistaria vine which was in full bloom. In front of the house stood two stately firs like sentinels guarding the home of this happy family. It was only a few weeks unti l Matilda was able to walk about. Now they were expecting their jolly brothers to arrive, and this made things brighter still. One evening, several days after the arrival of their brothers, Matilda found a small piece of paper pinned to her pillow. She read : Dig ' neath the tallest tree, Seven feet or more. You ' ll find in several weeks, The thing you most adore. Just then Frances entered the room and Matilda quickly slipped the paper under the pillow. She didn ' t want to show it to her because there might be just one part to the treasure and how could she share it with her? After the girls were in bed, Frances said, I wonder what is the matter with the boys, Mat? They haven ' t played one trick on us and they have been here four days. I wish they would do something for I ' m just aching for some fun. The temptation was too great for Matilda, so she drew the paper from under her pillow saying, I ' ll show you something, if you promise not to tell. Of couse not, but hurry and show me that paper and explain, urged Frances. Frances grabbed the paper and read it. Oh, how wonderful ! Do you think the boys wrote it? They can ' t write poetry. I know that, said Matilda, because I remember writing it for them when they had to write it for school. The sun next morning, as it looked over the top of the mountains, saw the girls sneak out of the house with shovels in their hands. The tree was easily found as it was conspicuously taller than the others around it. The girls started digging, seldom talking, as if the magic of the early summer morning had cast a spell over them. As Matilda was soon tired, they stopped, covered up the hole, and started back to the house. They did the same thing every morning for several weeks. Each day Matilda was able to dig longer. No one had discovered their ab- sence from home as they went early and came back before anyone was up. One day they came to a little box beautifully carved out of a solid piece of wood. In it was a piece of paper bearing these words : By digging, digging, digging, For the treasure which you sought, Not even stopping to think, ' Twas not of substance wrought; IT was your health. What poetry! sighed Frances. Yet how romantic! Those horrid boys, exclaimed Matilda. — MARJORIE DUNLAP. O To Night O Night, around the drowsing Phoebus gently draw thy sable cloak; Call upon thy whispering zephyrs all their magic to invoke; Summon forth your fairy starlets with their silver lanterns lit. Ask Diana, too, to help you; call the fireflies out to flit Round among the dark ' ning shadows that will soon loom from above; Let us show the slumb ' ring Phoebus all the tokens of our love. All this day hath Phoebus warmed us, clothed us in the sunshine bright. Now that he would sink to slumber, lull him to his rest, O Night! — NINA BANCROFT. The Mysterious Mountain A True Story N HIS room at a little hotel in Shasta County Mr. F sat for an hour pouring over the chart which showed the location of a certain fossil bed deposit he was about tc explore. At daybreak next morning he started out with an old long-haired Indian guide, and two pack horses. After journeying for a few hours, he became concerned about the indirect route along which he was being led. He knew the right direction was due north, and he suddenly real- ized that he was travelling southwest. Hey, Quio! Mr. F called out, jumping off his horse. You ' re taking me the wrong way. But Quio rode stubbornly along. Again he called out, Stop Quio! What ' s the matter with you? From his saddle bag Mr. F took out the chart. He was studying this carefully when Quio finally came back. With one hand on the chart and the other indicating a great pine mountain, Mr. F spoke sternly, You ' ve taken me at least three miles out of the way. We should have gone close to that mountain. I not go that way. Mountain him heap bad. What do you mean by that, Quio? laughed Mr. F All mountains are good. ' Him heap bad mountain, he got devil inside. A devil inside ? Who told you that? Wait, and I tell you. Together they sat down beneath a pine, and as they filled their pipes, Quio related the following: Long, long, long time ago, the first born of my mother ' s mother, and two other girls had lovers who went on a hunt. One day girls went to medicine woman to have their fortunes told. She say they must go through cave in that mountain to a pool, bathe their foreheads, and make a wish. Pretty soon they went in, the daughter of my mother ' s mother ahead, carrying a pitch torch. They did what the medicine woman told them. The torch went out. They took hold of hands to find way back. 1 hey got lost. Bye and bye daughter of my mother ' s mother screamed loud, pulled hands of other girls. Only two girls came back, pale like a log without bark; said the devil took the other girl. But exactly where is this cave, Quio? Right near the north trail. After eating lunch Mr. F said, Come on, let ' s go into that cave and see what the devil looks like. No, no, you go. I stay here. The sound of a horse ' s hoofs could be heard as Mr. F hur- ried toward the north trail. At the entrance to the cave he took a candle and a ball of twine from the saddle bag. From the formation of the rocks in ceiling and walls, he believed the cave once to have been the bed of a river. He tied the string to a projecting stone and followed it seventy-five feet or more with the lighted candle in hand. Mr. F found the pool as Quio had described. A few feet beyond this his candle light fell upon a dark cavern which proved to be a large and dangerous shaft, fully fifte en feet deep. He tied the string to the candle which he lowered slowly into the empty hole. Bending over the sloping edge of the shaft, he saw on a small rocky ledge, six feet below him, an object. It was the torch. At the bottom of the hole he saw bones and decayed garments of the old Indian ' s aunt. Mr. F took the bones back to Quio — all except the skull which he kept to present to the University of California. He left Quio and his relatives soon after they had performed the sad duty of burying the bones of their loved one, whom they thought the devil had devoured. With the bones also was buried the superstition that the devil reigned in Mystery Mountain. Mr. F continued his journey alone to the fossil beds. — HERBERT LYSER. O To Satyrs Drink, ye Satyrs, and sing with glee, Songs of merry minstrelsy. Roll and tumble on the earth In your ecstasy of mirth. Pan his pipes is now a-sounding, Haste and be around him bounding. Fill your cups and while you ' re drinking On the grass with joy be sinking. Fill the air with song and jest And let it be your very best For in yon streamlet that is ghst ' ning, A naiad dwells whose ear is list ' mng. FLORENCE STAPLES. Punishment HE eerie silence of the night was unbroken save for an occasional thud of snow from the overladen branches of some tree. Pierre Vairson, a French-Canadian trapper, was deep in meditation. Te mechanically caressed the head flung across his knees as he absently watched the flickerings of his small camp fire. Soon the huge animal, the sole friend of Pierre ' s solitude, rose and silently moved to the edge of the glade, where he stood listening. Pierre abstractedly contemplated the beautiful picture the big brute made as he stood alertly poised, silhouetted against the snow. Savage, called a wolf, but really only half wolf, had been the only cub of his mother, a timber wolf. She had been driven, starving into the vicinity of Fort Sin- clair, and had died. The trapper had found and adopted Savage. Pierre mused. The slyness and treachery of the wolf did not show itself in Savage, only the fidelity and intelligence of the dog. Savage had disappeared into the trees. Pierre was gravely weighing his thoughts. His provisions were low and the trading post was many days ' journey south. With his dog, Pierre ' s provisions would just last, but a delay of any kind would be fatal. A blizzard, lost track, snow blindness — a thousand fears tor- mented his troubled mind. If he took Savage, it might mean his death, but without the dog he would not have any fear. A soft snow had begun to fall. Pierre rose, indecision written in every line on his face. Soon, however, he became resolute, and, after packing up his scant equipment, he slunk away, knowing the snow would kill his scent. Two years passed. Then one night a solitary trapper struggled through the snow towards Fort St. Louis. Suddenly the stillness was broken by a long, mournful wail, in the distance. Answers rose from all sides and soon the forest was ringing with the hunting cry of the wolf. Instinctively Pierre quickened his pace. He broke into a run. In the distance he could dimly see the lights of the Fort. He knew that help would never reach him. Gradually the distance between the wolves and the trapper was lessened. Pierre could see the wild eyes which betrayed their fiendish purpose, and the cruel fangs gleamed in the moonlight. There was one wolf, far larger than the rest, who led them by two or three lengths. Hunger-maddened though the wolves were, they could not outstrip him. Then as the trapper ran, he tripped and fell full length on the snow. Like a flash, the pack rushed on him. There was one ghastly shriek, a convulsive shudder, which intermingled horribly with the snarls of the wolves, then all was silent save for the crunching. The leader took no part in the killing. Man was not his prey. Thus did Pierre meet his death the object of revenge of the animal that he had once left to such a precarious fate. — MARY HARDIE. o Feeding the Cows HE cows were standing in a little group in the pasture thoughtfully chewing their cuds. 1 3§jj II My good sister cows, said Jersey who always took the lead in matters of cow life, are we to stand for this outrage? Jersey was very angry and she continued in an indignant voice. It ' s all very well to have the Master ' s little lad, Henry, come tripping across the pasture to give us bites of clover, but the clover is full of thorns! It tickles my throat and makes me cough. Here every cow remembered that her throat tickled and began to cough vigorously. And that is not all, went on Jersey. I received a savage prick on my tongue this morning from one of the thorns. Here again all the cows wagged their tongues to be sure that they were not pricked entirely off. I have a plan to punish this wicked Henry. If I start anything, be sure to follow. Here is John coming to take us in for the night. The cows were walking peacefully down the lane which led past the house to the stable when Henry stepped from behind the hedge with a bunch of clover which he held out to Jersey. Jersey glared at him as only an exasperated cow can glare. Then with a deep bellow she dashed at Henry. Straight to the house ran Henry yelling at the top of a power- ful pair of lungs. Down the stairs came his father in time to see Henry hurry up to his room and lock the door. At the front steps Jersey stood lowing and shaking her head. It was some time before her master, with many gentle pats and much kind language, induced her to return to the stable, but it was with altogether different pats and language that he in- duced his son to stop feeding the cows clover with thorns in it. — ELIZABETH LOUNIBOS. The Eucalyptus Tree Yon trees have stood a hundred years or more, The happy home for birds, a shade for men, Weathering with brave endurance as of yore The wars the changing elements wage on them. One tree is there that stands so straight and tall, And flings its branches high against the blue. In gentle whispers it explains to all What ' s happening in the world both old and new. It stands on guard, a sentinel brave and bold, Inspiring us with courage to be strong, To build our lives toward the highest goal, And turning help the weaker ones along. PAULINE LINDQUIST. O Bucking Nemesis IMINUTIVE Tommy dejectedly sat upon the yard fence, diligently chewing a piece of straw. He was not in a very good temper. ' ' i li Half an hour ago he was actively fighting his big brother Ben, who had conquered him. Tommy had cautiously climbed up the shady mulberry tree, to the snug forked branch, where Ben usually sat on fine afternoons to study his lessons. The small boy set himself comfortably on this branch and began to whittle a stick — he never learned lessons unless he was obliged to. He was stubbornly repeating to himself, The tree doesn ' t belong to Ben. I have a right to call this seat mine as much as he. Ben took another view of this matter. He did not agree with his younger brother. It was of no use for Tommy to argue the question, nor to hold to the great branch with both slipping hands. Ben roughly pulled him down by his long legs, and rolled him violently on the trampled grass at the foot of the big tree. Tommy was up like a flash. He flew at Ben in a passion. But Ben easily parried his light blows, and when tired of his fighting, took him by the gingham collar and gave him a good shaking. Then the conqueror quietly climbed into the mulberry tree. The conquered sat upon the board fence, on the other side of the farmyard, where he, in safety, gave vent to his feelings by making rude remarks. Coward! Grabber! I ' ll pay you up! See if I don ' t! I ' ve got as much right to sit where I like as you have. Pick on someone your • 99 size. Studious Ben did not bother to look up from his big books. Tommy grew tired, tired of making rude remarks which hurt no one, and only fanned his self-pity. He picked up a broken piece of straw and began to chew it. Now chewing straw is a peaceful sort of an occupation, so Tommy ' s temper cooled down little by little as he chewed and chewed. By and by he gave his disturbed attention to an incident other than fighting. He noticed a younger cockerel grab a good piece of fat which the older cock had chosen for himself and flash away with it. Next moment there was a skirmish. The older cock flew at the younger cock and punished him severely. The loser perched himself upon the self- same board on which Tommy was sitting and began to crow angrily. Cock-a-doodle-doo! Coward! Greedy thing! The fat was as much mine as yours. Never mind! Just wait! I ' ll pay you up. At last he grew tired and settled down comfortably. Tommy had listened to this recital. Keep your feathers on, old boy. Remember the old cock was born before you were, and first come is first served. Cheer up! Your time ' 11 come, and so will mine. — VICTORIA VALENTINE. o Sunset The sun is sinking in the evening sky, Warning all mortals that night is night. The clouds in the west form grotesque shapes, Huge giants and dragons and funny snakes. Diana is beginning to show her face, While her brother, Apollo, is seeking his place. In the abodes of mortals on the earth, You hear no more the sounds of mirth. The fires are lit, and the lamps are aglow, And all is peace in the land below. CHESTER CALDECOTT. A Wonderful Discovery T WAS an ingenious discovery. Yes, sir, it certainly was. This is how it came about. I was taking a walk when I came to a large wall. I was very curious to know what was on the other side, but I could not see over as it towered way above my head. I decided to follow the wall and see if there wa s some way to get through. Sure enough there was, for at last I found a little orange door. I boldly opened it and walked in. There I saw a funny little house with a sign that read Professor Know- all. I was not sure that I wanted to see a professor, but my curiosity got the best of me, so I went up the steps and rang the bell. A queer old man answered and asked me to come in. As I entered, he took me in to a funny looking little room which he said was his laboratory. I asked him what he was doing. Making pills, he answered. Making pills! I exclaimed. What kind of pills? Pills of knowledge, he replied. If you ate one of these pills you would know everything and would never have to go to school any more. Oh, please give me one! I cried. He did and I was just in the act of eating it when — I woke up! It was all a dream. — VIRGINIA WITHERS. o A Narrow Escape OMIAKPUK KYRUK! Oomiakpuk kyruk! meaning, The big boat is coming. Everyone was wild with excitement. I looked and looked but all I could see was a little cloud, which the Eskimo said was smoke from the boat. Usually the ice breaks up the latter part of July, but here it was the twentieth of August. Only a black shadow on the horizon showed that there was any open water. Ice everywhere! Our trunks had been packed for a month. We had watched from the house tops with field glasses day and night. Boats only reach Barrow once a year and it is surely a gala day. The Eskimo boys and girls all put on gay new calico artigiluks for the occasion. For three years we had been in Barrow, Alaska. Now we were going outside ! The Captain sent men ashore with the message that if there were any passengers to go they would have to hurry to the boat. The boat was seven miles from shore. We left at ten a. m. Fif- teen men went ahead with axes to pick a trail. It is almost impossible to travel over sea ice. Spring ice is dangerous. There are wide cracks eight to ten feet wide to cross. Each team was manned by three men to hold the sled as we were traveling on the slopes of ice hummocks. Some- times we traveled through two feet of surface water. We heard shouts and guns shooting from the shore. It was the danger signal, that the ice was going out. We turned and the ice where we crossed five minutes before was now all open water. We drifted ther e on a large cake of ice until the natives came to our rescue in skin boats. We reached the shore once more, wet, tired, but mighty thankful, at three p. m. Five hours of hard work and we had only traveled two miles. Within half an hour, the ice had all drifted out and the Revenue Cutter Bear came steaming in, a welcome sight. We could go outside! — JEANETTE BLOOMFIELD. O My Easter Vacation During the Easter Vacation we took a trip to our ranch which is about one hundred fifty miles up the coast. The ranch consists of three hundred eighty-one acres. We have two creeks that are surrounded by many different flowers. My father admired them very much, but he didn ' t know their names or families, so he offered my brother and me a large reward for every fifty we knew by sight with their family and botanical names. We accepted the challenge with much courage, and, after about two hours ' work, I had covered fifty with the botanical name and family name, but I hadn ' t identified them to him. I worked about an hour more and got as far as seventy-five with their names and families. It was time to go home when I started to identify them so I only finished about forty of them. Among some of the flowers that we found was the wild hyacinth. The Indians used the bulb of these flowers for making flour. The beautiful lily, clintonia, was just beginning to bloom, and also the pink and yellow azaleas. In places the ground was covered with baby-blue- eyes, and other places with yellow and blue violet and wild irises of many shades. — BOB RATCLIFF. What Pantu Saw HE Ranchodel Mira Vista near Monterey, which was owned by Don Pedro Soto, consisted of hundreds of acres of hill and val- ley land. Pantu, a faithful, old Indian, living at the Rancho del Mira Vista, was very devoted to his master and mistress. In past years Pantu had been Don Pedro ' s body servant, but now this Indian guarded the oxen. One evening when Pantu was watching the oxen, he noticed a stranger dismount from his horse and creep stealthily through the grass to the place where the oxen were sleeping. The stranger then copied the oxen ' s brand. Who are you? Pantu demanded angrily. I am Senor Antonio Senchez from San Francisco. I am on my way to Monterey, he calmly said. Why did you dismount from your horse and copy the brand? Pantu asked. I am a great admirer of oxen and when I saw these sturdy ones I decided to buy them so I had to know who owned them. Well, then, go on your way and don ' t bother these oxen again or you will regret it, Pantu said in a threatening tone. That night Pantu was awakened by the oxen. Probably an owl has frightened them, Puntu thought, so I ' ll sing to them awhile and that will quiet them for they ' ll know that some one is watching them. After an hour or two had elapsed, Pantu was awakened again by a noise. This time, however, he heard the tread of oxen and a horse on the nearby road! Then Pantu thought, Maybe that man whom I saw this evening has returned and taken some of the oxen. Yes, he had! There were the footsteps of a white man ! One night, nearly a week later, when Pantu was watching some more oxen, he saw a fire on a distant hill. I wonder, thought he, who has lighted the fire? Pantu became quite curious and decided that he would go and find out who had lighted it, so he walked quietly to the fire. There he saw some oxen and noticed that his master ' s brand was on them. Quickly Pantu ran to Don Soto ' s villa where he found many people, for Don Soto was giving a fiesta in honor of Senorita Soto ' s birthday. When Pantu explained to them what he had seen, it was decided that all the men should stay at the villa for the remainder of the night, as it was nearly three o ' clock, and that they should start before sunrise the next morning to find Senor Senchez and the oxen. The next morning Don Soto and the other men left the villa, as they had planned, before sunrise. After riding a distance, they heard the tread of oxen further up the road. Quickly they rode to that place and saw the senor was leading the oxen away. Bang! Bang! Senor Senchez was no more. You may be sure that Pantu received a reward and lived quite happily until he made his journey to the happy hunting grounds. — ORA THELEN. o Mistreated ANE rushed into the house, and pulled off her hat and sweater. She threw them into the corner. This is the third time she has done this to me, in the last two days, said the sweater in a complaining voice. You ' re not any worse off than I am, said the hat. Only yes- terday, when she was in one of her tempers, she threw me on the floor and almost stepped on me. Also, added the sweater, the day her father bought me for her, she was running, and as she went around the corner, I caught on a rose bush. She gave a jerk, and alas! it tore this big hole in my side. She hasn ' t had me mended yet. I have an idea, suggested the hat. To-morrow afternoon she is going out and she will, most likely, wear us. If so, when she puts me on, I ' ll stay on top of her head, and it will make her look funny. When she puts you on, don ' t you hang straight, and fix yourself in such a position, that that big hole she tore in you will look terrible. This plan having been agreed upon, they waited patiently for the next afternoon. Oh mother! look at this hat. It just won ' t stay the way I want it to, said the angry little girl next day. And this awful sweater won ' t hang straight, and this hole shows terribly. It was you who tore the hole in the sweater, and you who threw the hat on the floor almost putting it out of shape, said Jane ' s mother. If you would take care of your clothes, they might look well on you. That evening Jane carefully took off her sweater and hung it up on a hanger, and placed the hat above it. It worked, said the now contented hat and sweater. — KATHRYN MACBETH. The Spring Festival Willard had a party gay A Festival of Spring, And such a gathering of folks, I ' m sure I ' ve never seen. The first arrivals that I saw Were three Egyptian maids. Behind them walked a big bold Turk, And then some college blades. A patchwork girl and a gingham girl, A Scottish lass in plaid With a little Orphan Annie, And a handsome sailor lad. A clown, and a Covered Wagon, A horse, and cowboys, too. The tall and lonesome pine tree Looked like someone I knew. From way down South in Dixie They came in laces old, And I saw a maid from old Japan Walk with a pirate bold. Even Crusoe came, and Friday too, With an archer from the wood ; A happy pair from Oz ' s land And a peasant, poor but good. The band played sprightly music, That made old Willard ring. Oh, it was a joyful party, Our festival of spring. — MARY RUSSELL. Nature ' s Music We live in the burnt district on a hill. Since the fire, the houses have not all been replaced. There are very few houses near us. This is a great advantage for the birds, for they can have their nests in low shrubs. I am awakened every morning by the birds singing their joyful songs. I have listened attentively and noticed one tune especially. This morning I found the bird that gave me such lovely music. I looked into our bird book and found it is a Hermit Thrush. He is a very pretty little bird but smaller than the robin. I think his song is much sweeter than a robin ' s. His song is like a soft, clear tone of a bell. He seems to say, Here am I. His song is still sweeter in the evening. His head and shoulders are rather reddish, his tail shading into an olive-brown. His throat, breast, and under parts are white, plain in the middle, but on his sides and breast, he is heavily marked with heart- shaped spots of a very dark brown. His eye-ring is rather whitish. — MADELENE MAC CRACKEN. O A Race for Life HEN I was about nine years old, and my sister nearly six, we lived on a farm in Mendocino County, California. Our house was off the road about a fourth of a mile, and to reach it one had to cross a bridge over the Russian River. The road led down from the mountains to the town and often cattle were taken over it on the way to the slaughter houses. One frosty March morning my sister Mildred and I started off to school, which was about a mile away. The road, which led to the school, was narrow and steep, and was bordered on one side by a cliff and on the other by thick brush. We walked up the steep road and had just reached the top when we saw coming towards us a herd of steers being taken to market. We waited, thinking they would take the opposite road but, fright- ened by the shouts of the herders and the barks of the dogs, they plunged on towards us. For a minute I knew not what to do, but suddenly, seizing Mildred ' s hand, I ran back down the hill, shouting and screaming. The steers bellowed and rushed on, raising clouds of thick, brown dust. My sister was pulling off her pink sweater, for she had heard that red maddens cows. Ahead, I saw the bridge and remembered that a steep trail led down to the water from the side of the bridge. Gripping hands tighter, we slid down the incline, to hear the herd, stamping overhead, on the bridge. By this time their fury was spent, and when the last of the herd tramped over the bridge, the leaders were quietly grazing on the road- side grass. Mother and dad had been watching the race from the other side of the water and just at this time father reached us and took us home, where mother waited to comfort us. BESSIE SIMPSON o The Cat and the Bird A thrush hops around in our back yard, A bold little fellow is he. He teases our cat as she sits in the sun, And seems to say, Try and catch me. His bright little eyes and head on one isde, He watches each move with great care. The cat gives a spring and reaches the spot, But alas! no birdie is there. —MORTON STODDARD. O Spring In April after rain and sun Have beautified the lawns and trees And made the roses grow and bloom And filled the air with humming bees, We boys get out our fishing rods And bathing suits and things And wish for June and holidays And all the joy they brine:. — JOE HENDRICK. Supplied with Three Hundred Horses 30HN MORGAN, the rebel general, was as good at playing a joke as he was at horse stealing. The following narrative will prove l P I that on one occasion he did a little of both at the same time. During his celebrated raid through Indiana, he, with about three hundred and fifty guerillas took occasion to visit a little town near by, while the main body were marching on. Dashing suddenly into the town, he found about three hundred Home Guards, each having a good horse tied to the fence. The men were standing around in groups, await- ing orders from their aged captain. The Hoosier Boys looked at the cavalcade in astonishment, while the captain rode up to one of the party and said, Whose cavalry is this? Wolford ' s, said the rebel. What ! Kentucky boys ! We ' re glad to see you ! Where ' s Wol- ford? There he is, said a ragged, rough rebel pointing to Morgan, who was sitting sideways upon his horse, as he approached. The captain walked up to the supposed Wolford and saluted him. Captain, how are you? Bully! How are you? What are you going to do with all those horses? asked Morgan as he pointed to the fine looking animals tied to the fences. Well, you see, that notorious horse thief Morgan is in this part of the country with a gang of cutthroats, and between you and me, Captain, we ' ll give him the best we have in the shop. He ' s hard to catch; we ' ve been after him fourteen days and we couldn ' t see any signs of him at all, said Morgan good-humoredly. If our horses would stand fire we would be all right. Won ' t they stand? No, Captain Wolford. ' Spose while you ' re restin ' , you and your company put your saddles on our horses and go through an evolution or two, by way of a lesson to our boys? I ' m told you ' re a boss driller. Morgan alighted and ordered his boys to dismount, as he wanted to show the Hoosier Boys how to give Morgan a warm reception should he chance to give them a visit. This delighted the Hoosier Boys who went to work and assisted the men to unsaddle and tie their weary worn-out horses to the fences. They then placed the saddles on the backs of their own fresh horses. The boys were highly elated at the idea of having their pet horses trained by Wolford and his men. The old Captain advanced to Wolford ' s side and said, Captain, are you all ready, now? Yes, Captain; if you and your men wish to witness an evolution, which, perhaps you have never seen before, form a line on each side of the road and watch us as we go past. In a few moments the Hoosier Captain called, All right, Wol- ford. Forward! suddenly shouted Morgan. The whole column rushed through the crowd with lightning speed, amid the shouts of the duped sons of Indiana, who saw that a fake part had been played by Confederates in disguise, who had made good their escape. The company disbanded that night, although the aged captain stil! holds the horses as prisoners of war and patiently waits an exchange. — CAROLYN ALLEN. o Jenny Wren All scolding was stilled, Jenny Wren had been killed By the cat across the way. Little mouths to be fed, Little birds to put to bed By the sorrowing father gray. He worked and he tried, But the babies still cried, Then he said, I ' ll get another. So he flew far away, And returned that same day With a saucy foster-mother. — REID FAIRCHILD. Mademoiselle Robinette ADEMOISELLE ROBINETTE, marvel of four continents, famous bareback rider and acrobat, child wonder of the circus Thus bawled the announcer for Barrett ' s Mammoth One-ring Circus. A ripple of applause ran through the audience as the dainty star came tripping in. To the country people gathered there she seemed a veritable fairy, but to the eyes of the circus people there was a drawn, tense look under her makeup. She had been with the circus since earliest childhood, her mother having been star acrobat and her father a clown. She was an orphan now and the pride of the circus. She had left listless all day and to-night it was sheer will power that made her go through her difficult performance and run smiling from the ring only to fall fainting at the door of the tent. There followed many days of darkness in which the life of Mile. Robinette was despaired of. However, she was now up and was sent to a farm to recuperate, She seemed an odd child to the good farmer and his wife. Devoid of her tinsel and glitter she was just a queer, shy, brown, little girl, but she soon held a large place in their hearts. To help make the bread and to watch in the kitchen were her keenest delights. The pure country air and regular habits soon made her the healthy little self of old. Then came the messenger from the circus. Mile. Robinette was again to take her place as bareback rider and star. The circus had seemed far removed from the country, but now it was a reality which must be faced. After her departure, sadness reigned in the hearts of the old farmer and his wife. One evening the doorbell rang. They answered it and found standing there Mile. Robinette and Mr. Barrett, who said with a catch in his voice, I ' ve brought her back. She was so peaked and lonesome a-longin ' for the farm that I hadn ' t the heart to keep her, — and he was gone. Robinette, now no longer star bareback rider of Barrett ' s Mam- moth Circus, mounted the stairs to her tiny room. She opened the window and let the fresh, sweet smell of apple blossoms wafted by a cool breeze, blow in her face. In her heart was joy and a great prayer of thankfulness that she was home at last. JANE SEXTON. Puer Malus Olim Marci simia mala ovum in Quintum iecit. Quintus perterntus domum cucurrit. Quintus inquit, Simiam malam occidam, Quintus per silvam ad Marci aream lit. Cum per silvam iret, in rivum parvum cecidit. Subito ursa magna Quintum vidit, et eum perterritum in spe- luncam duxit. Ibi Quintus ursas multas vidit. Subito Marcus et pueri multi in speluncam eruperunt et ursas sagittis terruerunt. Puen Quintum viderunt et eum domum duxit. Cras Quintus poenas dabit quia in rivum cecidit. — ROBERT HENDRICKS. o Marcus et Pupae Olim Marcus Marcellae et Claudiae pupas in area in subsellio sub arboribus invenit. Pupas ex area vexit et eas in rivi parvi ripa collocavit. Turn eas in rivum iecit et fugit. Mox Marcella et Claudia ad rivum venerunt et pupas viderunt. Celeriter domum cucurrerunt et matrem vocaverunt. Interim Marcus ad rivum iit et pupas domum duxit; sed Marcus poenas dedit. — ELEANOR LATHROP. O Kidskin Gloves Nurse put a beautiful pair of gloves On my little hands to-day, But you know they sort o ' scared me ' Cause I heard nursey say, Those gloves is very ' spensive ones, Just knitted ones would do; But these is made of real kidskin. Oh dear! I wonder who? ' Cause often when big Uncle Ted, Comes out with us to stay, He kisses mother and he says, How ' s the kids today? Now who you s ' pose he means by kids? Why Brother Jim and me. I wonder who on earth got skinned To make these gloves for me. — WESLEY NEWMAN. T6RIALS THE TARGET STAFF Frank Clark Editor Dorothy Andrews Manager Ruth Hanley ....Associate Editor Esther Kelley.... Associate Editor Assistants Byron Bole, Vivian Carlson, Helen Eveleth, Margaret Gaines. Richard Ham, Louise Mangels, Evelyn Mesquit, Elizabeth Paine. Beryl Scott, Lloyd Scouler, Jane Sexton, Mane Sime, Bessie Simpson, Elizabeth Takahashi, Patricia Washburn, Howard Young, Edwarda Adams, Mar- garet Alexander, Gertrude As- man, Helen Boehrer, Charlotte Bullock, Beverly Coil, Eleanor Fay, George Hall, Gaillard Hardwick, Mary Hatch, Carol Hughes, Mary Mcintosh, Ruth Minney, Marjorie Morris, Bonita Morton, Vesta Nickerson, Helen Ridings, Gertrude Wepfer, Billy Wharton. Advisor Board Mr. Clark Principal Miss Christy Teacher Target honors were received by the following staff members: Frank Clark (5), Dorothy Andrews (5), Ruth Hanley (2), Esther Kelley (2), Vivian Carlson (1), Helen Eveleth (1), Margaret Gaines ( 1 ) , Richard Ham ( 1 ) , Evelyn Mesquit ( 1 ) , Elizabeth Paine ( 1 ) , Jane Sexton ( 1 ) , Mane Sime ( 1 ) , Elizabeth Takahashi ( 1 ) , Edwarda Adams ( 1 ) , Margaret Alexander ( 1 ) , Helen Boehrer ( 1 ) , Charlotte Bullock ( 1 ) , Mary Hatch ( 1 ) , Ruth Minney ( 1 ) , Marjorie Morris ( 1 ) , Vesta Nickerson ( 1 ) , Helen Ridings ( 1 ) . Patricia Washburn won the cover design honor. o A Student Leader STUDENT LEADER is a person whose character, ability, and ini- tiative are such that he gains the respect of his fellow students. If he is running for an office, he first must prove to the studenl Dody that he is a true leader and that he will be capable of taking care of his position. If he is a real leader, he will make a success in his of- fice and will win the entire support of all the student body. A real leader must, in the first place, possess certain characteristics. He must be a good student, getting his lessons day by day, and he must win the respect of his teachers. He should be a real boy among boys, and he should be able to win and keep the favor of his fellow students. He ought to be a clean boy and ought to be true to himself in thought, word, and deed. He should at all times be courteous and should have unassumed politeness. He should be skillful in the use of his body and a leader in sports as well as in other things. He should be resourceful at all times, never losing his poise and dignity. He should set an example to his fellow students by living up to all rules, regulations, and laws of his school, city, state, and country. A leader is successful in accomplishing his own tasks. He should be an inspiration to the student body to accomplish their duties in a suc- cessful manner and to unite in achieving the common aims and purposes of the school. RICHARD HAM. Politeness OLITENESS is one of the most important steps to success. Every day someone is judging you by your conduct. In order that you may attain a worth-while standard it is necessary to remember the feelings of others and always be polite and considerate. No one likes a discourteous person. You may talk back to your teachers or make rude remarks in the classroom and your fellow students will probably laugh, but at the same time they are saying to themselves, I wouldn ' t do that. As you grow older these defects, even though they may be small, will reflect greatly upon yourself and also upon your parents. When a young man applies for a position with some firm and he is rude, will he succeed in getting the position? I should say not. A manager knows better than to hire a person of that type. There are a great many ways of being polite. Always be atten- tive, well poised, courteous to everyone you come in contact with, show respect to any person older than yourself, and you will never regret it. Everyone respects a refined person. She is always recognized and stands out as a leader of her group. So let us strive to have Willard, our school, stand for politeness and culture. I am sure that we should all be proud of such an aim. — DOROTHY HUNTER. o True Friends Certain pessimists maintain the idea that there is no such a thing as a true friend, such a friend as will stick to a person through bad luck as well as good, and won ' t desert. I think that in more than one way this statement might be criticised. One who never deserts me, and never will, is a good book. As far as that goes, there are some books that do fail one, but these need not be read. One of my favorite book-friends is Janice Meredith. Very often when I wish to read, I cannot find anything I want, so I go to the shelf on which my copy of Janice Meredith is lying, and, getting it, com- fortably settle myself for a good read. One of the nicest things about a book that I often have read is that I can read the parts that I like, and visa versa, without fear of missing anything. Almost all books have a time. For instance, when I have only a few minutes to read in, I pick up Scott ' s Kenilworth. At times when the weather is warm and I have a good deal of time I read the Vicompte De Braggelonne, or some book of intrigue, and love, such as the above mentioned. Of course, these are just examples, and I read others besides. There are not only conquests of men for gold and fame, or honor, my own conquests in the land of books have been rich and interesting. I go to a bookcase in another room than my own, and stand before it questioningly. Soon I pick one, not from its title or binding, but simply to see what it is. Next I look at the first page, or, to be sure, at the frontispiece, if there is any. Slowly it dawns on me that maybe, possibly, this is just the kind of book that I wanted. My interest growing, I read a little more. Then I sit myself down to enjoy the afternoon! This is the way I have discovered many wonderful books, and, I suppose, will discover many more. — RUTH DYER. o  The Herald Did you ever watch with bated breath, For the first little sign of spring, For it ' s queer, all the joys and happy things That the first blade of grass does bring? Even before the blooming trees, Before the flowers unfold, A tiny green blade of grass comes up, Defying the snow and the cold. Before them all the grass comes first, While the robin is pruning his wing, The greenest, the strongest, the best of them all, The grass, — the herald of spring ! JACK BOYLIN. STUDENT OFFICERS Seth Lee Clark President Bert Morton Vice-President Paul Bergemann Secretary Redmond Staats Yell Leader OUR AIM During the past term the student council has met once every two weeks. Each class sends delegates to these meetings and they report to the students they represent the results of the meetings. The purpose of these gatherings is to discuss business and work out school problems. The chief aim is to arouse the spirit of the pupils. A school without loyal student support cannot achieve the highest aims of education. Every ctudent should realize the importance of co-operation in the classroom, on the school grounds, in the auditorium, and on the bleachers, for the best interests of the school. Each citizen of Willard must realize his individual responsibilities for good conduct and high scholarship stand- ards. Help make Willard School, as our rally song goes, the best in Berkeley , in all that fosters noble manhood and womanhood. spring day 4 iusic:dram « Spring Day The annual Spring Day ob- servance at Willard was held on Friday, March twenty-six. It was 1 a Book Day, the students imper- sonating books, or characters from fiction, history, poetry, and fairy tales. The net proceeds, amount- ing to five hundred and fifty-one dollars and seventy-one sents, will be invested, for the most part, in books for the school library, with only a small fraction being used to clear the debt on the moving pic- ture machine, and to make some improvements in the appearance of the grounds. ft 4 The program opened in the morning with a well-rendered band concert in the yard, followed by a general assembly in the auditorium, during which excellent musical numbers by the senior orchestra and the low seventh grade glee club were well received. Chester Caldecott de- lighted his audience with two beautiful solos, and the program ended with an interesting educational film, and a comedy. To her mothers, Willard owes the most important part of the suc- cess of the day, for, during the noon hour, they held a most gratifying food sale under the direction of Mrs. G. Williams, chairman, and Mrs. H. S. Ridgely, president of the Parent-Teacher Association, assisted by a committee of faculty members. To estimate the mothers ' ability in the culinary art, one had only to glance at the display of appetizing dishes in the upper corridors. On this occasion the proof of the pudding was in the receipts which amounted to one hundred and eighty dollars and sixty-five cents. Willard feels deeply indebted to her mothers who made so tangible a demonstration of the support of their organization behind the school. Following the costume parade in the afternoon, twelve prizes were awarded to students offering the best book representations, best groups, or best sustained characterizations. The prize winners were the follow- ing: Lona Wright, a Russian peasant; Jean White, Mrs. Clay of Alabama; Alice Gannon, a fairy; Winifred Chilton, Dolly Varden, Eliot Wilbur, Uriah Heep; Douglas Allen, patchwork girl; Jean Stover, Glinda, the good, of Oz ; Teresa Wood, Ozma of Oz ; Ruth Hanley, Raggedy Andy; Charlotte Bullock, Raggedy Ann; Tom Mc- Laughlin, Dick Cutler, Robert Phillips, Hugh Corbett, David Agnew, George Adams, Herman Serpa, George Pidgeon, Allen Fowle, com- posing the cowboy group; James Savage and Donald Gibbs, Robinson Crusoe and his man, Friday; Bob Coyle and Max Smith, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn; Andrew Bright, Uncle Remus; Elizabeth Farmer, Flora Lamson, Lucile Soule, Egyptian slaves. The next event in the day was a dance in the Gym where students, attired in costume added spirit and color to the festival. The day closed with a theatre party at the Campus, two excellent selections by the Willard band giving a finishing touch to an enjoyable program. Spring Day was a success, both from the standpoint of interest and popularity, and from a financial standpoint. Willard is proud of her students, teachers, and parents, and heartily thanks them all. The French Program N APRIL 25, the French students of Willard presented a program in the auditorium which was attended by some four hundred students and visitors. The Low 7 class under Miss Vaissade ' s direction sang a group of charming French songs. This number was fol- lowed by two dances by Claire Chaponot, accompanied by Mane Sime and Florence Staples. We are proud to have in Willard such an ac- complished dancer as Claire, whose work shows the result of much con- scientious practice. Members of the High 8 and Low 1 0 French classes presented a play written and directed by Miss Simpson, which recounted the amusing experiences of two American soldiers in France. The principal role was acted by James Arbogast, who should be congratulated for his success in memorizing a rather difficult part and presenting it so well. Naomi Smith. Winifred Chilton, June Cochran and Norman Shaw were equally successful in their smaller roles, while George Allison and Ormond Wall furnished their full share of fun to the performance. The proceeds of this entertainment will doubtless be used to pur- chase for the library books and magazines of value to the school and of particular interest to French students. o The English and Latin Plays N THE evening of May 21 , the High Nine students in Miss Far- well ' s High Ten Latin Class and Mrs. Hall ' s English Classes gave a program of plays in the school auditorium. The Latin play, Perseus, adapted from the old Greek hero story, which opened the program, showed that Latin can still be a live language and a medium of lively action. The English play consisted of the comic mechanics ' scenes and the charming fairy scenes from Shakespeare ' s A Midsummer Night ' s Dream, a play studied this term by the classes participating. The cast owe a great deal to Mrs. Howell, whose aid in rehearsals benefited them especially in voice and characterization. Members of the class not in the casts were of great help as ushers, stage committee, publicity committee, etc., and so gave their service, too, in raising the funds which go toward the Target and other school expenses. CAST OF PERSEUS Cepheus — Charles Laurence (Scenes I and II), Frank Kockritz (Scenes III and IV); Cassiopea — Helen Eveleth; Andromeda — Fredncka Hanson ; Perseus — Raymond Huston ; Sacerdos, a priestess — Josephine Fessenden; citizens — Robert Shuey, Jack Carver, Robert Peterson; attendants — Patricia Washburn, Alice Gannon; friends — Sharlene Garlough, Warren Howell, Redmond Staats, Margaret Swift, Louise Mangels, Esthel Kelley; announcer — Howard Young. CAST OF A MIDSUMMER NIGHT ' S DREAM Fairies — Oberon, Mary Phyllis Ward; Titania, Vivian Allen; Puck, Jane Sexton ; Peaseblossom, Helen Angell ; Cobweb, Doris Reed ; Moth, Helen Rutherford; Mustardseed, Alice Gannon; other fairies, Teresa Wood, Helen Libbey; frogs, Louise Mangels, Evelyn Mesquit. Mechanics — Quince, Redmond Staats, Jr.; Bottom, Paul Vernier; Flute, Warren Howell; Snout, Frank Clark; Snug, Jack Carver; Starveling, Lloyd Scouler. Court — Theseus, Esther Kelley ; Lysander, Patricia Washburn ; Demetrius, Vivian Carlson; Philostrate, Etoile Peck; Hippolyta, Barbara McKay; Hermia, Adela Tyler; Helena, Jean Stover; Trump- eter, Robert Rice. o SENIOR ORCHESTRA Our Willard Senior Orchestra has the following membership list: First Violins — Florence Staples, Moore Harrison (leaders), Bill Swable, Claire Chaponot, Jack Bennett, Frank Clark, Bob Sims, Sterl- ing Gorrill; second violins, Thomas Farmer (leader), Chuji Shimamoto, Helen Boehrer, Jack Snyder, Dorothy Morton, Josephine Jaymot, Horace Glasson, Margaret Brewer. Violas — Betty Johnston, Lois Scouler. Cellos — Ruth Staples, Deneta MacClung. French Horn — Frank Gallison. Double Bass — Agnes Ligda, Paul Christian. Cornets — John McCallum, Harold Brink, Reid Nicol, Robert Rice. Clarinets — Donald Morehead, Paul Vernier, George Hall, Harold Zanzot, Robert Fennell. Flutes— Kenneth McCorkle, Mark Mohler, Eliot Wilbur. Trombones — Carl Holmes, Stewart Holms. Drums — Snare, Edward Brindle; bass, Miles Kinney. Pianist — Zona Macbeath. SENIOR ORCHESTRA We were very glad to welcome the return of Sterling Gorrill to our orchestra. This orchestra has done excellent work this term. They played for our Spring Day Festival, for Lincoln ' s Birthday, for the Mothers ' Club, for the High Nine play (the string section), for our annual concert and the High Ninth program. They are always ready to play when needed. o JUNIOR ORCHESTRA The Junior Orchestra has done very excellent work this term. It has worked well and steadily. The following students are enrolled : First Violins — Bill Swable (leader), Thomas Farmer, Bob Sims, Jack Snyder, Alden Olson, Dorothy Morton, Horace Glasson, Chuji Shimamoto, Marion Fisher; second violins, Lloyd Ryland (leader), Euthellers Welbon, Virginia Colberg, Jack Marchant, Margaret Brewer, James Arbogast, Akira Oshida, Desmond Rover, Mildred Hanson. Cellos — Deneta McClung, Dorothy Ellis. Double Bass — Max Smith. Cornets — Edson Gorman, Scott Haynes (Le Conte School). Stanley Bradshaw. Flute — Milan Brown. Viola — Lois Scouler. Drums — Snare, Edward Bnndle; bass, Miles Kinney. Pianist — Jack Carver. SENIOR BAND SENIOR BAND We are very proud of our school band. It gave us an outdoor concert and played for the march in the Spring Day Festival. It also played for our theater party at the Campus Theater. The boys ap- peared on the program for the Masonic Lodge during Education Week, played for our Assembly Rally, and led the march on Field Day. This band is always ready to serve the public. The members are : Solo Cornets — John McCallum, Harold Brink, Reid Nicol, Robert Rice. First Cornet — Ralph Wood, Stanley Bradshaw, Lloyd Scouler. Second and Third Cornets — J. V. Rice, Edson Gorman, George Sparks, Peter McLaren. Solo Clarinets — Donald Morehead, Paul Vernier, George Hall, First Clarinet — Harold Zanzot, Robert Fennell. Second Clarinet — Warren Howell, John McGuffick, Alex Russell. E Flat Clarinet — Allen Fowle. Piccolo — Milan Brown. Baritone — Carl Nieper, Gene Chance. Trombone — Carl Holmes, Stuart Brooks, Sheldon Allen. French Horn — Frank Gallison. Tubas — Paul Christian, Alex Faye, Philip Chubb. Drums — Niles Kinney (bass) ; Edward Brindle (snare). Saxophone — Arthur Arnitzen, Dana Ward. JUNIOR BAND A Junior Band was started this term to prepare the new players for the senior band. They are: Cornets — Rossiter Hoppin, Billy Gorman, Robert Davis, Jack Sullivan, Melvin Davis, Billy Laidig. Clarinets — Harrison Bullock, Howard Barton, Stanley Cahill. Piccolo — Robert Coyle. Mellophone — Charles King. Trombone — Dean Hoskins. Tuba — Alex Faye, Philip Chubb. Drums — Franklin Doherty. o PIANO CLUB The piano club consists of about forty members and is composed of students who have some talent and appreciate music. The meetings are held once a month in the school auditorium and the programs are given by the members. The officers are: Dorothy Andrews, president; Louise Mangels, vice-president; Gerald Bole, secretary. Five meetings have been held and the programs have been most enjoyable to all attending. The following members played at the first meeting : Elizabeth Holling, Frances Rose, Mane Sime, Alison King, Vivian Allen, Dorothy Andrews, Gerald Bole and Eleanor Storer. The second program was presented by Zona Macbeath, Evelyn Miller, Louise Mangels, Hazelmae Wigmore, Betty Wheaton, Daisy Marchant, and Ruth Staples. The third program was given by Jack Carver, Helen Caine, Gerald Bole, Frances Puckett Thirza Trenery, Elizabeth Holling, Ruth Cooper, Bruce Brumbaugh, and Eleanor Storer. The fourth program was rendered by Gwendolyn Morgan, Ruth Staples, Thelma Reed, Kathryn Kramer, Francis Saph, Daisy March- ant, Evelyn Miller, and Vivian Allen. The fifth program included selections by Louise Mangels, Marie Sime, Elizabeth Holling, Gerald Bole, Eleanor Storer, Dorothy An- drews, Lida Schneider, Ruth Staples. GLEE CLUB The glee club presented a cantata entitled Rip Van Winkle on the evening of June first. It contained chorus, trio, duet, and solo work. The program was an excellent one and was greatly appre- ciated by the audience. It was a worthy climax of a very successful term ' s work. The following students are members of the glee club and took part in the cantata: Sopranos — Helen Boehrer, Francis Puckett, Winifred Chilton, Neville Wood, Ruth Staples, Daisy Richardson, Lois Scouler, Marie Evans, Vivian Carlson, Eleanor Storer, Pauline Lindquist, Kathryn Kramer, Katharine Candee, Stephen Prescott, George Kerston, Audra Richardson, Maxine Wadsworth, Evelyn Miller, Marjorie Matthews, Marion Johnson, Nellie Griffith, Dorothy Williams. Altos — Alflecta Dellinger, Janet Richmond, Helen Smith, Thelma Read, Nina Bancroft, Frances Rose, Ruth Dudgeon, Jean Smith, Helen Barnhart, Betty Johnston, Bob Sims, Louise Mangels, Jane Guild, Margaret Gaines, Alice Lehmer, Marie Sime. Alto Tenors — Bill Swabel, Carl Macbeath, Robert Burrows, Robert Shuey, Fred Baker, Milan Brown, Harold Zanzot, Robert Sullivan. Basses — Robert Cummings, Robert Armstrong, Bert Morton, Herbert Lyser. o SEVENTH GRADE GLEE CLUBS - During the past year the Seventh Grade has maintained two Glee Clubs — a High Seventh Grade Glee Club and a Low Seventh Grade Glee Club. Last fall they sang over the radio, and in the Greek Theater for the Municipal Christmas Tree. This semester they sang for our Spring Festival on March 26, and for our school concert on June 1 . The members are: LOW SEVENTH GLEE CLUB First Sopranos — Joe Hendricks, George Reissman, Wesley New- man, Roy Elliott, Carl Cleverdon, Jane Bonestell, Virginia Boehrer, Dorothy Weissel, Lloydine Cornell. Second Sopranos — Katheryn Kerchen, Dorothy Brockhurst, Louise Vinson, June Back, Mary Youngren, Louise Lorenz, Nan Curtis, Jane Graham, Francis Knox, Frances Anderson, Aileen Gartrell, Maude Zander, Lucia Chaponot. Altos — Kenneth Phelps, Yervont Minasian, John Bailey, Edward Nylund, Paul Meyer, Vernon Frederickson. HIGH SEVENTH GLEE CLUB First Sopranos — Bob Rochester, Elizabeth Stevens, Sally Whit- man, Jean Arlett, Dorothy Bothun, Dorothy Lea, Margaret Coe, Charles Simpson, Meredith Coon, Olive Peck. Second Sopranos — Mildred Hansen, Frances Hussey, Laura Ber- riman, Opal Kramer, Elizabeth Lounibos, Ora Thelan, Barbara Mc- Kibbon, Victoria Valentine, Denneta McClung, Margaret Blair, Flor- ence Edmonds, Ardath Knight, Mileva Congdon, Madaline Peacock. Altos — James Gallagher, Richard Patrick, Arthur Skaife, Jack Snyder, Melvin Davis, Coerte Van Voorhis. o The Piano ' s Complaint Oh, dear me! the piano said, I feel weary in my head. My keys are aching, And I ' m out of tune; My pedals squeak; I ' ll be worn out soon. Eleven people took lessons to-day, Hammering me and trying to play. Eleven people kept banging my keys, Until I thought a book I ' d seize, And throw it hard at every one Who thumped the way the first had done . Little wonder I am almost dead And want to rest my weary head. — GERTRUDE RICHMOND. GIRLS ' BASKETBALL The girls ' unlimited basketball team distinguished themselves by winning all three inter-school games. Garfield, Edison and Burbank fell before the good playing and team work of these skilful players under the leadership of Dorothy Randall, the captain and star of the group. This season was characterized by well-attended, noon practice in the gym and stern determination by every one on the basketball squad to win. The 105-pound team were: Barbara McKay, Lucile Noland, Anna Kip, Virginia Faunce, Helen Boehrer, Marian Johnson, Eloise Kropke, Betty Johnston, Katharine Candee, Helen Ridings, Josephine Cravens, Dorothy Verrinder, Ruth Hanley, Miki Ichio, Mary Hatch and Mary Mcintosh. The girls ' 1 15-pound team were: Vivian Allen, Blanche Holmes, Esther Kelley, Thirza Trenery, Bonita Morton, Evelyn Miller, Morna Scott, Anna Hudak, Beryl Scott, Louise Mangels and Betsy Straub. The girls ' unlimited team included Mary Sperry, Dorothy Randall (captain), Audra Richardson, Betty Wheaton, Josephine Jaymot, Dorothy Youngs, Elizabeth Peart, Barbara McKibbens, Marjorie Morris, Adelaide Rood, Irene Levoy, Carolyn Eckman, Helen Smith, Louise Dodge, Catharine Allen, Helen Davis. BOYS ' BASKETBALL The 1 1 5-pound team ran through their season in a blaze of glory, never even being threatened with defeat. They won the championship of their class by the scores of Willard 1 0, Edison 2 ; Willard 6, Garfield 2; Willard 9, Burbank 3. BASKETBALL VICTORS The lineup was: Captain and center, Harvey Brown; guards, Paul Bergemann and Chuji Shimamoto ; forwards, Judson Van Matre and Rex Hostetter; substitutes, Fulton Tooker, Robert Ingals, and Niles Kinney. The 105-pound boys won the series and their block W ' s with two out of three games. Victory was the result of close team work by the first five and a stream of reliefs from the substitutes. The scores were Willard 8, Edison 9; Willard 10, Garfield 9; Willard 7, Burbank 3. The lineup was: Center, David Agnew; forwards, Shinji Yama- moto (captain) and Clesson Moore; guards, J. V. Rice, Wm. Mc- Gregor; substitutes, Hideo Nakayama, Akira Oshida, Mitsuo Harano, Carl Macbeath, Robert Davis, Marshal Albee, Arba Oberholzer, Don- ald Morehead, Colin Findley. The unlimited team finished their series with a win. They are largely eighth graders and are going to start in next year right where they left off this. The death of captain Bills was a hard blow. He was that rare combination — a good sportsman, skillful player and able leader. The scores and players follow: Garfield 34, Willard 10; Edison 27, Willard 9; Burbank 11, Willard 14. Captain— Wayne Bills, Martin Finadore, Harvey Bernard, David Sargent, George Sparks, Lauris Nevins, Robert Rice, Lloyd Calori, Al Murphy, Harold Brink. THE GIRLS ' PLAYGROUND BASEBALL Willard girls are enthusiastic over playground baseball and the inter-class games are hard fought. This year the High Nine girls won the class championship without much difficulty and are now wearing their Willard numerals. The girls ' High Nine team: Isabel Hardy, Caroline Eckman, Dorothy Randall, Audra Richardson, Morna Scott, Helen Rutherford, Frederika Hansen, Dorothy Verrinder, Vivian Allen, Catharine Allen, Dorothy Andrews, Thelma Pntchard. BOYS ' PLAYGROUND BASEBALL For the first time in indoor baseball history at Willard — the Low Seven boys won all their preliminary class games which entitled them to play against the High Nine team for the school championship. The High Nine boys defeated the Low Sevens and so won their Willard numerals. The High Nine team: Reid Nichol, Shinji Yamamoto, Harvey Brown, Raymond Staats, Robert Rice, Hideo Nakayama, Frank Kock- ritz, William McGregor, J. V. Rice; substitutes, John Baker, Judsen Van Matre, David Straub, Raymond Huston, Jack Carver. o ATHLETIC MEET The sixth annual Junior High School Athletic Meet was held on the California Oval, May 7, 1926. The total points made were: Garfield, 332 1-3; Edison, 163 1-3; Willard, 155; Burbank, 87 1-3. The posture contest was won by Garfield. Willard received second place. The following students from Willard received first places in the events: Marjorie Morris (broad jump) ; Beryl Scott, Leora Hiller- man, Irene Boyce, Helen Angell, Katharine Candee (relay) ; Mary Hatch (dash) ; Eloise Kropke (broad jump) ; Elizabeth Pennell (jump and reach) ; Jane Guild (jump) ; Dorothy Randall (baseball throw) ; William Swabel (high jump) ; Dick Cutler, John Wood, Frank Kockritz, Chris Mangels, Jack Wyke (medley relay) ; Horace Glasson (basketball throw) ; Chris Mangels, Philip Klein, Richard Ham, Daniel Stagen, Niles Kinney (relay); Salvadore De La Rosa (high jump). Second honors went to the following Willard participants : Beat-rice Silva (baseball throw) ; Helen Barnhart (jump and reach) ; Tom Stal- worth (high jump) ; Frank Kockritz, Shinji Yamamoto, Dean Hoskins, David Agnew, Robert Bryant (relay) ; Chuji Shimamoto (jump and reach) ; Harvey Brown (high jump) ; Alan McClay (high jump) ; Wesley Newman (broad jump) ; Redmond Staats (basketball throw) ; Arthur Malmstrom (high jump) ; David Maris (broad jump) ; John Wood, Mitsuao Harano, Arba Oberholzer, Titus Yoeo, George Pidgeon (relay). o In a palace of pearl and seaweed, Her chariot of shining shells, In a beautiful forest of coral, There, the Sea Princess dwells. She has traveled the wide sea over, She has ridden on fishes fleet, She has picke d off the deep-sea daisies, And with mermaids often does meet. And oft when the moon is shining In the old world up above, She peeps through waves and sea foam, At a land which she cannot love. For she was born in a palace Of crystal, far under the wave; While our land is fair to her eye, ' Tis not fair as an ocean cave. Although she loves not the earth folk, When they ' re lost on the ocean foam She comes from her palace of pearl, To guide them safely home. — RUTH DUDGEON. Berkeley Riest — I think those Oxford bags are ridiculous. June Cochran — I prefer a plain handbag myself. — o — TUNE IN ON THIS Buddy Staats thinks the Board of Education is a shingle. George Sparks thinks Sherlock Holmes is a new row of bungalows, Fulton Tooker thinks the Coast Range is a cooking stove. Colin Findley thinks the Saturday Evening Post is something to tie horses to. Chester Caldecott thinks Sing Sing is a lullaby. Duane Muncy thinks that the President ' s Cabinet is made of wood. Fred Heitman thinks Rex Beach is a summer resort. — o — Teacher — What do we mean when we say the whole is greater than any of its parts? William McGregor — A restaurant doughnut. THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPEN Maxime Wadsworth gets her algebra without help. Fulton Tooker doesn ' t enjoy his own joke. Claire Chaponot shouting in Oral English. John Baker — Why is an empty pocketbook always the same? Bob Shirey — No change in it. — o — Teresa Wood — Do you like ' Lamb ' s Tales ' . Jean Stover — No, but I eat beef tongue. — o — David Straub (applying for a job) — Is there an opening here for a bright, energetic, young man. Storekeeper — Yes, you are standing on it, and please close it as you go out. — o — Teacher — Now someone give me the Roman name of Mother Earth. Class in chorus — Oh, Tellus! — o — Teacher — What did James-Fitz-James do when he awoke from his dreams? Duane Muncy — He went out and drank some whisky. (Duane ' s interpretation of He rose and sought the moonshine pure. ) — o — Teacher (giving out report cards) — Look at your cards and pass out. Teacher — What can you tell me about nitrates? Art Kelly — Well, they ' re a lot cheaper than day rates. — o — The teacher was giving a lesson on creation, when Alden Olson interrupted with the remark — My father says we descended from apes. Teacher — Your private family matters have no interest in the class. — o — Franklin Brown (to an aviator) — Is this aeroplane an absolutely safe one? Aviator — Safest on earth. — o — John McCallum — What does flattery mean? Franklin Brown — It is your secret opinion of yourself expressed in the language of others. — o — Did you hear about the fleeced lamb? No; what about it? Anna Kip got her hair cut. Sleepy Desmond, come raise your head, The desk was not made for an afternoon bed. The teacher has called on you, so don ' t be slow Or a line of zeros will stare in a row. — o — Laugh and the class laughs with you, but you stay after school alone. — KNIGHT WARFORD. — o — Lost — One and only eraser which will change algebra answers successfully. Please return at once, as my algebra is second period. — BILLY WHARTON. — O — Warren Howell — Well, you think you are so smart, I never have heard of a town named after you. Richard Ham — No, but there is one named after you. Warren — Is there? What is it? Richard — Marblehead. — o — Mother — Dorothy, I don ' t hear you practicing. Dorothy Andrews — I am, mother. I ' m practicing the rests. — o — Eloise Kropke — George, what are you taking up now? George Hall — Space. — o — Teacher — Use ' cauterize ' in a sentence! James Arbogast — I knew she was mine the moment I caught her eyes. — o — Teacher — Ira, have you read ' Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch ' . Ira Boehrer — Yes, mam. It ' s all about rabbits. — o — Hubert Salsbury — What causes the flight of time? Billy Wharton — It must be the spur of the moment. — o — Albert Bischoff — Can I change a dialogue into a monologue? Teacher — No, it takes a clever person to do that — a teacher for instance. — o — Nurse (to Jack Bennett) — It ' s nothing to worry about. Just a little boil where your back collar button has rubbed your neck, but you ' d better keep your eye on it. I ' m lost! friend Sandow shouted, As he staggered down the stair. I went to sleep in the English class, And I don ' t know where I aire. — o — Fred Heitman — Did you hear that Fulton Tooker was almost drowned last night? Richard Ham — No! How ' s that? Fred — The pillow slipped, the bed spread, and he fell into the spring. — o — Teacher (to girls) — Girls use dumb-bells to get color in their cheeks. Josephine Fessenden — Yes, and some girls use color on their cheeks to get dumb-bells. — o — Teacher — When the eyes are shut the hearing becomes more acute. John Baker — I have noticed people trying that experiment in church. — o — Nurse — Do you sleep with your window open? Maurice Maggora — No, just with my mouth. Teacher — Is this your mother ' s signature? Gertrude Blomstead — As near as I could get it. — o — Desmond Royer ' s affection for animals is shown in the following quotation from his composition: I dearly love animals, and my favorite sport is hunting. — o — Evelyn Mesquit (in history) — The priests marry, baptize, and bury the dead. — o — Dorothy Verrinder (to storekeeper) — I want a mouse-trap, a good one, and please be quick, for I want to catch a car. Storekeeper — I regret that my mouse-traps are not guaranteed to catch cars. — o — Lost — A Spanish book in Al condition with complete translation for every page. Reward offered. Please return to David Maris. THAT ' S WHAT THEY ALL SAY Douglas Thompson overeats. Alex Sabo is not conspicuous. Rex Hostetter has a haircut. Irene Boyce wears a boyish bob. Reid Nichols knows his history. Armand Dyer is Willard ' s orator. Craig Dill is eating pickles. A vanity case for Elliott Sandow. Brick Wright avoids the girls. — o — Teacher — Jack, what does myth mean? Jack Carver — Myth is the plural of moth. — o — Teacher — Jack, why aren ' t you writing? Jack Carver — I ain ' t got no pen. Teacher — Jack, where is your grammar. Jack — She ' s dead. — o — Teacher — Now, Paul, what would I be if I went home and put my hand in somebody ' s pocket and took out some money? Paul Vernier — You ' d be their wife. — o — Dana Ward — I could go on dancing like this forever. Fredncka Hansen — Don ' t you ever wish to improve? Teacher — Walcott, give your question. Junius looks at Walcott. Wal cott — Stop that, Junius! Teacher — Junius, are you teasing Walcott? — o — Jean Smith (to Betsy Straub) — How far up on the hill do you live? Betsy — - I live so far up on the hill that I have to keep the windows closed to keep the clouds out. — o — Major Schoof (looking at the assembly) — Looking at these faces reminds me of the great open spaces. — o — Dana Ward — Do you play golf? Maxime Wadsworth — Oh, no, I don ' t know how to hold the caddie. ft v ' «■ x f ' ' ' ' ' W««wm- P Vs. wmm 111 X