Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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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.

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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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Telepathy or Coiincidence? SANDY STUART walked briskly along the well-worn moor trail. It was a brilliant fall morning. On either side of him grew purple heather, sway- ing in the gentle breeze and bathing in the warm, September sun. The rolling hills of the moor rose and fell gently like purple waves in a sea of wild heather. Ahead of him rose a rocky crag above which towered the gray roof of a large, rambling building, the castle of the Laird of Dunberry. It was sorrowfully dilapidated. The flowers which once made beautiful gardens were left to wander aimlessly over the crag, covering the rocks, every bit of soil, and the great wings of the castle itself. At the foot of the crag was an old, tumbled-down wall which separated the castle grounds from the village of the neat, little, thatched-roofed homes of the peasants. As Sandy entered this village, he was greeted by a loud sound as a large flock of geese passed, scolding furiously at the picturesque little laddie, dressed in his father's vivid tartan, and chasing the geese with a long, sharp switch. This boy, who knew Sandy, said to him, You'd better be hurryin', Mr. Sandy, 'cause the Laird's pretty sick. Sandy, taking this advice, ran as fast as possible through the village, managing to step on some worthy fellow's toe and to receive his compli- ments, to trip over a dog who chased him, and last, but not least, to have to stop to pick up a rosy-cheeked peasant girl's plaid handkerchief. At last Sandy arrived at the castle gate, and it was not long before he found him- self knocking loudly on the enormous door. The door was opened after a few moments by a young girl, Babby, the Lairdis only daughter. She was beautiful and delicate as the petal of a rose, with dark, curly hair pushed back so as to emphasize large, dark eyes and clear, white skin. Sandy entered. He soon found himself in a large bedroom. In a high, feather bed, lying back against his pillows, was che Laird of Dun- berry. He was a handsome man and powerful physically and mentally. He was in his sixties and had snow-white hair, and eyes like his daughter's. He seemed very much out of place in bed. He explained that he felt out of place, too, and that his daughter, the housekeeper, and all the other servants in general had actually forced him to go to bed. When Sandy asked him what seemed to be the matter, he had to be sat- isfied with the statement that all trouble could be traced to the previous night. Except for paleness, Sandy thought him perfectly well. However, he did notice that the Laird was very nervous. Once when Babby knocked on the door, Sandy noticed that the Laird shook all over and cried out, Stop that knocking! Stop it! Stop it,I say! after which he had lain back gasping. When Babby called Sandy down to lunch, he took time to consult her about the Laird. It was then that she asked him if he would be kind enough to sleep with the Laird that night and see that he was all right. To this Sandy agreed. She said also that something might happen at night to make the Laird more nervous and sick. He saw no more of Babby that afternoon, much to his regret, for a deep admiration for the dark-eyed beauty had sprung up in him. However, he was rewarded that evening. He and Babby ate dinner alone. At first they said little, but after a time an interesting but completely impersonal conversation passed between them. Dinner finished, the two went to the Lairdis room. In the conversation