Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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Little Pear CHINA, as you know, is a very large country, and the people in the North are very different from those found in the South. My story will deal with North China where the people are tall and stalwart. Tientsin, where I lived three years, lies nearly due west of San Francisco. The rainy season there is in the summer, and the winters are dry and cold. It seems strange to us Californians to find things so brown and dry and desolate in the winter and early spring months. This is partly due to the terribly cold, dry winds that blow for hundreds of miles across the Gobi Desert and the snow-cov- ered, desolate plains. We shall travel for a day with my friend Little Pear, and you will see how different her life is from her western friend. She is ten years old, and being the eldest of five children, has many responsibilities. As winter is coming on, and the weather is growing colder and colder, we notice that Little Pear is putting on more coats, until finally by the Chinese New Year she will be wearing as many as eight. She is not fortunate enough to have any of her coats lined with fur for Little Pear is poor but not of the poorest class. Her father earns about 58.00 a month pulling rickshaws while her mother sits in the street during the day and sews as a public seam- stress, thus adding whatever she can to increase the family income. In the morning Little Pear rises at daybreak and helps her mother with the morning meal and housework. Then Little Pear's mother leaves her to take care of the children. With a few coppers, about noon, she runs to the market place and gets the children each a steaming sweet potato and a jowzer,,' the latter being something like an Italian ravioli only larger. She picks up whatever bits of paper, straw, or wood she can find on the way home to heat water for a bowl of tea. About two o'clock Little Pear's mother lets her go off to play while the younger children are sleeping. As the rivers and canals are all frozen solid, skating is her attraction. The Chinese ice skates are not made of steel like ours but consist of blocks of wood to which wires are fastened for run- ners. My friend's father has made her a clever pair, and we meet on the river and enjoy skating. My foreign steel skates are a source of wonder to Lit- tle Pear, but no more so than her clever wooden skates are to me. As we skate up and down the river, we pass a group of mounds of different sizes and Little Pear tells me that these are Chinese graves. Let us now stop and watch some people riding on a peiza. The peiza resembles our sled, with two runners and a place covered with dry reeds on which the passenger may sit. A man stands in back with one foot on each runner and jabs a sharp pole into the ice between his feet and shoves the peiza along. These peizas go swiftly, traveling ten to twenty miles an hour. Sometimes theycarry goods instead of people. ' We must nowsay good-bye to Little Pear as she must go out with all the other children and gather fuel. All but the wealthiest children gather sticks and leaves and grass from the fields and open country in place of fire- wood. china, being a very old country, has cut down most ofher trees in

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How queer, she said, looking about her, that I am here. Oh!', She suddenly seemed to remember Rolin's unanswered question. Her wonder- ful, brown eyes smiled at him, I am Elaine Lovelf' You are Elaine Lovel? Rolin staggered. Then you are the girl that was kidnapped from Paris on November seventeenth. Yes, she replied, and you have saved me from those awful wretchesf' She looked at him hopefully. It would take a long time to tell my story, she added with a sigh. The sigh awakened the dazed, young man, who, while she was talking, had completely lost himself in her auburn hair and pearl-white teeth. Come, he blinked. It's too cold. I cannot offer you much, but I can take you where it will be warmer and more comfortable than this. The girl smiled wanly. Anything would be better than this, she answered, too tired to speak more, and they began the dangerous descent. When they arrived at the bottom, Rolin carried the faint girl to the house. Who is that? asked the astonished butler of Rolin. It's a girl, the young man breathed back. Arnold, call Anne and ask her to come to the library immediately, he added. Anne Falstaif, R0lin's charming sister, soon had the beautiful Elaine comfortable. The soothing drink and some of Anneis clothes made a great difference, and then Rolin appeared to hear Elaine's story. You know the old castle here at Land's End?', she began. They nod- ded. I've been there. I donit know my captors. The only time I have seen anyone was at mealtime. Oh, it was horrible! Musty, dirty, dark, and rats everywhere. It seems as though the place hasn't been used for many years. No, replied Rolin. You see the people of the village have seen you enter and come from it, and they believe you to be .the ghost of the Earl's daughter, who was murdered there many years ago on a Christmas Eve. That night her ghost is supposed to appear. Of course no one ever goes up there because they are all so superstitious. I went up on the cliff tonight to kill their silly stories, but please continue. Pardon me for interruptingf' That's all right, Elaine smiled, curving her pretty lips sweetly. That makes it clearer for me. I must have been delirious most of the time. You remember when I rubbed my hand across my forehead? Yes, replied Rolin. Well, that's when I came to myself. I don't know how I got out of the castle. The windows were all barred, and there were guards everywhere. Neither do I know why I went to the top of the cliff. That's my story and I cannot thank you enough for saving me. It was just a coincidence, Rolin replied smiling modestly. Long after the household had retired Rolin, still up, strode from the library to the front garden, where Rover lay quiet as the night. The clouds were clearing away, and the silvery gray of the full moon made latticed shadows on the ground. The dawn was graying in the east, ushering in a clear, crisp day. Well, old boy, said Rolin, as he knelt down beside the dog, do you like her? The dog licked his master's hand. So do If' said Rolin, a very happy young man, as he stole back into the house just as Christmas Day dawned. Alice D. Davis. i

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previous times. Since these trees have never been replaced, firewood is quite expensive. It gets very cold, sometimes below zero, and, as most of the people are poor, they can not afford to buy fuel but must gather whatever they can to burn. In many sections fuel of any kind is so scarce that the women and children go out to gather what they can find to make sufficient fire to boil water for tea or rice, or tp cook their food. Fuel for heating is not available to most of the people, 'so unless they can afford to put on enough extra clothing they suffer greatly in the cold winters. As I sit in front of a warm, cosy fire in my home, I often wonder what Little Pear is doing. I often wonder how many of my American friends would do as much in their homes as she does about her Chinese mud hut and do it without complaint. Oh, but our life here in America is an easy, lazy life compared to hers! Margaret Oatvmm. Wasted Matches IN THE DAYS when the United States did not reach from coast to coast, and the strong men and brave were always pushing west to conquer new country, my great-great-grandfather lived in Vermont. Though this is East to us, it was far West to him. Now during the long, long winter months it was necessary to have fire or freeze, and it was a great pride among the settlers if they could keep their fire going all winter, for, if their fire went out, as nobody had any matches, they would have to borrow fire from a neighbor. One cold night my grandfather stirred up the fire, put some more wood on, and went to bed. About two o'clock he heard a cry from the baby's bed. He got up and went to see why the baby was crying. He could not find out why, but with a little tending the baby soon fell asleep. My grandfather was a little cool after getting out of bed, and he went to the fire to warm up. Horrors! The fire was out. He knew that he should have to borrow fire from a neighbor, and he despised it as it would be the second time that week. He would be in disgrace. Grandfather thought that he would go to bed then and not worry about the fire for awhile yet. In the morning he got up before anybody else, and, leaving his wife to borrow fire when she got up, he started to the nearest town many miles away. When my great-great-grandmother got up, she went to the neighbors and in due time, for the nearest neighbor was three miles away, borrowed the fire. Late that evening grandfather came back very tired but happy. It had taken all day to walk to the nearest town and back. He showed what he had gotten and very proudly displayed a small bunch of matches. We need not borrow fire any more, said he. Let's put them between the stones of the fireplace so that they will not get lost. Ae he put them in the crack, they scratched and lit. Three dollars, for that is what they cost, lost! My great- great-grandfather was rather an irascible old gentleman, and this was the last straw. He strutted off to bed in a fit of rage and did not calm down for a week. I might add that in a week the fire went out again. Morton Swartlz.