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Published Bi-mouthly, Except Holidays, by the Students of Greensboro
High School, Greensboro, N. C.
Founded by the Class of ’21
Entered as Second-Class Matter at the Post Office, Greensboro, N. C.
Aciing-EHitor-in-Chicf Carl Jeffress
Editor Fillmore Wilson
Bu$in€ns Manager lA^ah Louise Baach
As.Histant limsinexs Manayers David Flake, Louis Ginsburg
Spurts Editors Edwin Gambrel), Paige Holder
Typing Editors Cynthia Pipkin, Margaret Knight
Art Editor Howell Overton
Exchange Editor Kathryn Ginsberg
Elizabeth Whaley Lane Barksdale
Quentin Dixon Beverly Burgess
Powell Banner Carolyiie Ilay
Marguerite Lefort Constance Blackwood Herbert Montgomery
Ruth Harris Evelyn Strader Eiyn Fowler
Elizabeth Craven Edward Cone .Tack Nowlin
Robert Saunders PliyUis Hagedorn Helen Crutchfield
Joyce Heritage ' Miriam Robinson Edith I^tham
Mrs. Alma G. Coltrane
Member of the American Boy Magazine Feature Sem'ce
Hollo world—aint life been grand
since the last issue?
Patronize Our Advertisers
When the merchants oi' Greensboro put an ad in High Life, they
are not paying for the ads as gifts to the school, but they expect a return
on their money in the way of business from high school students.
These men are backing High Life, so let us hack them. When
making purchases, give preference to High Life advertisers and tell
them before you leave that you saw their ad in High Life. That re
mark will make our advertisers feel that their money has been put to
some good use. You will also be doing High Life a favor.
Make Some One Thankful
During the holidays when our thoughts are centered on what we
are going to have for Thanksgiving dinner, we should remember those
who will not have a feast and those who are less fortunate and will not
have enough food to keep off hunger.
Will we shirk our responsibility, and trust the other fellow to make
these unfortunates thankful?
Are you one of those who think Thanksgiving is a time for pleas
ure? Or, are you one who will see that some one is happy and has an
unexpected reason to be thankful?
The fact that this year finds America in an unfortunate condition
does not mean that we should be any the less thankful.
So let’s stop complaining about what we haven’t and be thankful
for what we do have.
Finishing the Second Lap
It’s great to start with a bang and end the same way. We would
all, however, rather see a runner make a poor start and slowly get ahead
until he is leading, than to see the man who has made such a splendid
beginning lay behind until he is out of the race entirely.
Many pupils have started this year with the determination to win.
We hope these pupils will not forget that the second month is harder
than the first and the third is the hardest of all.
If you make unsatisfactory grades, you know what to do about it.
It Can Be Done
There are few tasks, however hard, which cannot be accomplished
by a willing, cheerful, co-operative group. Success is always possible,
but it takes co-operation to make it assured.
This is illustrated by the success of the fifth semester students in
raising funds for the junior-senior by selling tickets for “The Spirit
of Notre Dame.” In spite of the fact that the student body in general
is “hard up,” and are spending what money is available on activity
cards, etc., the project went over with a “bang.” It took real sales
manship and hard work to do this. If we have the right attitude, no
matter how difficult the job is, “it can be done.”
Compulsory Activity Fee Wanted
Every student has to pay for the use of his books each year. A
suggestion comes that the pupils would prefer to add another dollar
and a half td this book fee and obtain an activity card with the books.
This card would bring a saving to the students and a guarantee to the
extra curricula school activities for the money and support that they
The success or failure of our publication depends on ads and sub
scriptions, and compulsory cards would insure the required funds for
the paper and the magazine. It would mean a good attendance at all
the football and basketball games and also at all dramatic and music
I jest got a letter from
Ed Cone. It’s one of the two thousand
letters which I have received during re
My Dear Mr. Writit:
I am a Zileh—a bona (fide) zilch. Now
all Zilches are a member of the Ancient,
Amalgamated, and Alloptropic form of
Zilehes of the American Association of
Agnettes. Commonly we are called the
A, A. A. A. A. A. A. A. In behalf
of this great organization, I request
that you change the npne of this col-
rnn to that of “The Egrits Nest.”
Thank you Very Much:
EDGAR B. ZILCH, D. H.
(Doctor of Heronolgy.)
My Dear Edgar:
I am sure that if the readers of this
paper knew who you were, they would
exterminate you. These horrid Burdi-
cal terms, is enough to drive a body
mad. What’s more, you shall be tried
for Plegarism for you have coppied
words, which I myself have seen in one
of Daniel Webster’s Books. The name
of this column is perfectly suitable for
the perpose, and I don’t need any of
your Heronology to make it better. Still
more, I ain’t takin’ orders from airy
ono of you dratted Zilches. If this let
ter is an application for the “Bug
House” in disguise, I may as well toll
you that I’ll pay the way of any Zilch
to any bug house in any town if any
of them will promise never to return.
Tales of the Kohinur
May I announce that this is a silly
column, and not a'plaee for things of
serious consideration. So people please
don’t send in any more letter like this
one. I admit that it is silly, but the
nature of the silliness is in the simplic
ity of its writer, and if there is any
thing I abhore—it is to have to corres
pond with myself.
Well folks Lulu Allan has sent in
some more parts from her flabbergast.
ing code Shoot? Ohhhhhhhh Kay—
how you surprise me.
Eht Sehcliz evoh dellorne a rebum fo
wen srebmen ohw era sa swollof:
De Webneb—Driallih Neile—ena
Niteuq—these are al Yllabooh clopp.
Here is another poem by Huth Bill—
she just discovered that there was a
poetry contest. Although this is rather
late for the contest—I am going to en
ter it since there have been no other
entries of any importance.
The merry Giraffe has a long, long neck,
And it stretches wherever he pleases,
He has long legs, too, and spots on hie
And his tail gently waves in the
He likes to run with hU long, long legs.
And he blinks whenever he sneezes;
He wiggles his ears if you tickle him
And he eats bananas from treeses.
Well, folks, I have a new idea. There
shall be a new contest on counting pea
nuts in the bags in the cafeteria. The
one sending in the largest number of
peanuts in a sealed bag will get a bag
free. I counted 27 in a bag last Thurs
day. Imean yesterday.
Frankness and Tact
Free expression of opinion, unhindered by fears of what others
will think, is a quality that few people have. Frankness is always
admired in a person, but many people fear to say what they believe for
fear that someone else will not approve of their opinion.
An excess of frankness, however, is bad just as is an excess of
anything. In putting our thoughts into words, there is always a limit
beyond which we should not go in order not to liurt the pride or vanity
of some of our hearers. It is well to say what we believe up to a certain
point, but we should say it in such a way as to avoid offending others.
Perhaps you yourself have known what it means to be embarrassed by
a careless remark of one of your friends or acquaintances. If so, you
know wnai a strain such an incident is to even the strongest friendships.
The obvious thing to do is to combine frankness with tact, thus
avoiding injury to our friends.
We all know that when water is still—is without any movement
for any great length of time, it is termed stagnant. The filth of disease’
embodies it and makes it useless and lifeless.
The same applies to school. Whep the students in an institution
of learning are inactive, are without spirit, are without ambition and a
goal, they become dead and afford little inspiration to their fellow
students. Have any of us reached the point of stagnation ?
The Lively Lady,” by Kenneth Rob-
3, i3 one of the past summer's best
fiction publications. '
Like most of Mr. Roberts’ books, this
story is based on hstory. Just before
the beginning of the War of 1812, Rich
ard Nason, a resident of Arundel, Me.,
fails in love with an Englishwoman,
Lady Ransom. He quarrels , with her
husband. Sir Arthur, and during the
the ship of which he is captain cap
tures an English vessel. Sir Arthur
Ransom and Lady Ransom are passen
gers on this boat. Shortly afterwards
Captain Nason is forced to surrender,
id is seat to Dartmoor prison.
He finally escapes, and discovers that
Sr Arthur is dead. He outfits another
ship, and is getting ready to sail when
Lady Ransom comes aboard.
The whole book gives a strong
pression of the gallantry, courage,
skill of the warriors, American pri
vates, captains, and of the crews who
Although this novel is first of all
romance, its historic value is consider
able. It gives an accurate account of the
war in which American won “the free
dom of the seas.”
Now this “mountain of light” had
illuminated six decades and was
hands of the mighty ruler, Saludin. Sa-
ludin was a man of great wealth, so
great that the walls of his palace
glowed witli rubies of Burma inlaid
the marble whiteness. He drank from
cups carved of amethyst and ate sweet
meats from boxes of turquoise,
nothing so pleased him as to gaze upon
his precious inheritance. Visiting
kings came from Calcutta, Tibet, and
even from far-off Mongolia to look
amazement and admiration at this glis
Ilis court was a lively place where
maidens dressed in luxurious silks and
wore strings of opals about their necks
and yellow beaten anklets of burnished
gold upon their legs; on their fingers
rings of glistening silver, and
from their ears dangled little shining
bits of jade. In their hands they car
ried fans of rare plumes, exquisite
color and magnificent to look at.
ow amid all this splendor there s
court magician, a wicked plotter,
whose name was Ramayzna. His face
yellowish and waxen, as though
slick, crackled old parchment had been
stretched over a prominent :
bones. No desire so filled him with
wickedness as that of his wish for the
Sultan’s prized gem.
One night while the rain-drops added
their monotony to the stillness of the
dark, Ramayzna lay planning a way to
gain possession of the diamond.
The dawn arrived, casting away tlie
rain-drops from marring the beauty of
the day; and sun added its sultriness to
As midday arrived, Saludin and all
his guests sat down in the cool hall of
the palace to dine. Each talked of the
wonders of his country; some of Bag
dad’s magic, others of China’s beauty,
but none knew of a jewel of such ex
cellence as the Sultan’s. As Saludin sat
drinking in all these wonders upon
which he had never peered, his face be
came pallid and his eyes bulged out;
his stare became fixed, and his body
stiffened as though from opiate poppy
juices he had drunk, which numbed him
All gazed in amazement; so sudden,
so unusual was his death. The Nautch
girls and the servants came running to
see what the matter was, but, alas! none
knew. Only the scheming Ramayana,
only he who had planted the poison in
the wine; only ho knew.
All was well, he thought, and he
gloated over the success of his wicked
After the burial services of the Sul
tan in a marble mausoleum designed
for its occupant, the visitors began to
question one another as to the where
abouts of the diamond. As none knew,
they decided to go into a conference,
which lasted for three days. At last
they decided that no human being could
die so quickly unless some evil-doer
liad practiced black art upon him.
Therefore, they went in search of
Ramayana, who was the only magician
in the land. Now Kenjuba, the wicked
one’s wife, had listened in tense silence
during the whole meeting; and when
she heard this, she ran to inform her
husband. Ramayana attempted to flee,
but the court mob fade haste, pursued
him to the lake side, and would have
torn his body into a thousand bits had
he not, with the glittering diamond in
his hand, rushed headlong into the lake.
Now Ramayana would not have plunged
into the lake had ho not thought him
self able to turn into a fish, but soon
he remembered that he had left his
magic ring in his room. Thus in cow
ardly terror he was drowned. Soon his
evil body came back up, cutting into
the beauty of the blue-greenish sur
face; but the diamond was destined to
remain in the lake’s oozy depths for
Romance of Books
One of the most interesting and ex
citing books of adventure based on mod-
life is “Pig Boots,” by Lieutenant
Commander Ellesberg, of the IT. S.
navy. The hero. Lieutenant Knowlton,
through accident and the malice of a
German sailor, is forced to leave the
navy and conceal his identity.
During the World war, he rejoins the
navy, and wins fame and honor by his
skill and leadership as commander of
submarine, or “pig boot,” as it is
called by the sailors.
The author gives a very vivid and
interesting account of the dangers and
hardships which the submarine crews
have to put up with, and he leaves a
good impression of the fortitude of the
The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse
t in “The Scats of the Mighty,” “Rosy
O'More” was the “Talesman,” “Candi-
gaii” was “The Trumpeter of Kradow” ;
Belshazzar “was a New England Nun”;
and “Downright Dencey” was “St.
liics” in disguise. “By Reason of
Strength” they all won the Four'
Feather. Bean Sabreur” diallenged:
them to u fight but “The Singing Gold’
and the thouglit of the “Turquoise Cup’
made them the “Gate Ajar,” “Splendid
Spur,” took them fo the “Gold of
Chiokaret*,” and “Mother Carey’s
Chickens” brought them “The Buck of
Roaring Camp.” They found “Joy
Work” and made “Hobo, Rag. and
Vixen,” the “Not Quite Puritans,” their
“Rosy O'More” found the “Big Mo
gul" and they all went to “Happy
Mountain.” Here they built a “Cathe
dral” and changed their name to “Em
ma MoChesney and Co.” Then “Emma
McChesney and Co.” became thi
Change.” After this “Rosy O’More’
“Power and the Glory” “On Forsythe
from that time on had a “Manifest Des-
fel! in love with “May Sinclair” and
tiny.” “Caiidigan” showed “The Des
cent of Man” when he fell for “The
Lady .Jean." “Belshazzar” broke his
faith as he married tlie “Woman of
Andros” but “Ills Children’s Children”
found “The Host Gosiiel." “Downright
Dencey” just dropped for “Anna Ha-
renina” and his “Son" became a “Re
porter for Lincoln.”
They all showed “The Need of a
Change” so when the professor doesn't
I ail answer don't say “Professor
How Could You?”
The city fathers should see to it that
sidewalks are constructed leading
to school to safeguard the lives of stu
dents who attend. Westover Terrace,
especially, makes the situation very
dangerous. Students having their cars
parked out in front of the school are
hurry to get home and the stu
dents who have to walk in the streets
During the past month we have had
the privilege of listening to radio pro
grams. Some of the students enjoy this
privilege and listen to the speakers.
Others think this is a time to sleep,
some read books, and others talk to
those sitting near them.
Students should at least be courteous.
LELAH NELL MASTERS.
Our assemblies, as everyone knows,
lack a spirit of unity and student par
ticipation. Mr. Miller, I am sure, would
gladly lead some songs and help to
make our chapel programs better at the
Wednesday morning periods.
There is a certain feeling of good
fellowship, friendliness, co-operation,
and wholobeartedness that is lacking,
sing a few songs, Mr. Miller.
IS IT WORTH IT?
Down in the Cellar
Now that the floor In the library is
beginning to get slightly wavy, some
of the idealistic students of G. H. S.
are being bitterly disalllusioned. The
library hasn’t a tile floor!
The way in which G. II. S. students
force themselves to get up early (?)
these mornings shows the power of
mind (?) over matter.
If the science one class has to draw
many more cells, a large number of
Its members will have to be placed In
cells. (Padded cells).
'Tests, tests, tests, more tests, and
still more tests, is whnt G. H. S. seems
to be having most of these days. IIow
about a little let-up? Between the ner
vous prostration caused by worry (?),
and the mental overtax, some students
are about ready for a wooden night
Detroit, Mich., (ABS)—Now that mid
term exams are on—and i
weather unpleasant?—high school stu
dents must comfort themselves with the
thought that things might be much,
much worse. For instance, they might
find on some list of questions such
puzzle as this, recently asked a •ui
versity class. Here it is:
It appears that three men of the epew
of the Continental Limited are named
Jones, Robinson, ah.d Smith. One
engineer, one trainman, and the other a
conductor, but not respectively. On the
train also are three passengers: Mr. J.,
Mr. S., and Mr. R.
Now got these facts:
Mr. R. lives in Ottawa.
The conductor lives halfway between
Ottawa and Montreal.
Mr. J. earns $2,500 a year.
The conductor’s nearest neighbor, a
passenger, earns exactly three times as
much as the conductor.
The conductor’s namesake lives in
Smith beats the train at billiards.
Question: What is the engineer’s
This puzzle is workable. Can you
do it? Next week High Life will pub
lish the solution as worked out by Mar
tin A. Kkver, assistant editor of the
American Boy Magazine.
I picked up three nickles and
And looked at them—
What queer things—
What a queer thing—money.
And what a big part it plays in
We sell our bodies for it—
Then pay with our souls—
We give up homes and friends and
Love for it—
And never count the cost.
We die for just the one moment of bliss,
When the coins slip through our fingers.
And drop on the table with a cold, life-
We hold it in onr hands—and gaze at it.
And then our eyes light up with the
Anticipation of spending it—
And, oh—the wonderful things we will
But always, in our minds’ eyes we see
Greater wealth,—so we keep saving-
Day by day, night by night we see the
Little pile grow higher—
Our eyes take on a glitter of madness—
And soon—al! else is forgotten-
And we bow down in reverence to the
Great God, Money—
But how morbid I have become.
From looking at three nickels and
What queer things—
What a queer thing—money.
Heaven afiame with blue—
Lovely, ethereal, maddening.
Drawing heart from the body;
Carrying thought too high
To be expressed. •
Earth unfolding herself to her lover,
Sun; Earth yielding up her harvest of
color to man—
Earth frank with gaiety.
Women in kitchens standing on weary
That autumn may not be missed
When winter comes.
While all the world reflects God’s grace.
A builder of dreams is never there,
To build his castles firm and real.
A builder of thoughts who has no care,
Will build but though^ of evil deeds.
A builder of hope who is not strong.
In will, in love, and in faith.
For honor and fame he need not long.
They are the fruits of honest toil.
A builder of thu a man must be.
If he would reap a just reward—
So here are his structures to use and
Faith, Hope, and Charity.
A flame of golden red,
Leaping high in defiance^ of winter’s
Blazing a trail of loved colors.
Across the emerald-hued meadows of
A spectacle of breath-taking beauty.
Beneath the sparkling azure skies.
With satiric laughter high and gay.
Autumn flings wide her mantle.
And laughs at death.
Now for your regular dose of my ego
I dreamed that the tree that I woke
up under was whirling madly above my
head, for all the world like a merry-go-
round. The sun was staring down at
me so hard that I dared not look back
at him, and all the grasshoppers chuck
led hoarsely when I arose' to my feet.
The birds just winked, looked solemn,
and said nothing. The only thing that
looked pleasant was a quaint little
flower perched in a cool, shady, little
nook. The shade felt just fine, but the
sun snorted, ran around the skies until
he found rae, and then resumed the
This didn’t daunt my desire for that
fragrant little flower, and so I started
to pull it; it held on to the ground and
growled. It admit that I felt a bit
light-headed then. When I came to my
senses, I was perched on the topmost
limb of a -'tree which waa growing
alarmingly fast. The ground kept draw
ing farther and farther away, and a
lop-eared dog at the foot of the tree
kept growing smaller and smaller.
I started to climb down, but I got
hung upon a great, billowy-white
cloud. There was nothing to do but
wait for the tree. In about ten yeara
I saw it coming; I jumped, I missed,
and fell. 1 looked around for the
clothes-line upon which I fancied I was
caught, but the nearest thing to a
clothespin was a queer thing emerging
from an adjacent clump of seaweed.
It had a rather cute, pudgy nose, curly
hair, and tiny red ears. It minced
within a few steps of my perch and
sweetly inquired, “Yes, what is it?”
I disclosed my desires to a tiny bump
23 degrees from the tip of his nose. •
“Oh, you’re in the land of the Dooky
Bird,” he sneezed. “My name is Bane
Barksdale, but Pm afraid you can’t get
‘How come?” I queried.
'Shhhhh,” he hissed, “did you not
know that Sheba and Jezabel have is
sued a decree,” here he bowed low and
sucked a lollypop three sucks with much
precision and reverence. “Do you not
know the Dooky Bird has flowed away?”
This greatly upset me, but I wanted
to know all about it, so I said, “How
‘Dear me!” he exclaimed, “’Tis the
Barksdalian theory. All snakes are soda
crackers and strawberry preserves are
“How interesting,” I quoth, “but this
doesn’t bestow my congregated bulks
of effervescent matter upon the con
fines of terra firma.”
you bet your life it won’t,”
sneered the ground, “I don’t want you.”
“Well, you needn’t think I’m going on
holding him,” rang back the air.
“Oh, say, now, fellows!” I pleaded,
Pm not so bad as all that. Why,
where I come from—”
At this point that queer Larksdale
Jrson jumped into the air and
screeched, “Hoochy-pooehy, wow-wow!”
I’ll be candid. It’s a crime to be con-
ventional and allow a dream to end as
all dreams must. Did I die during my
dream or am I still dreaming?
To a Pebble
Of the Rock of Ages,
Tomb of heroes and cowards,
Roamer of the World,
And missile of woe,
I salute you.
Ode to the Eternal Nothing
The moon was hanging in the sky
Exactly like an apple pie;
The park bench held two lovers fair
Who breathed sweet words into the air.
Of course, they kissed, and she said
He knelt and whimpered on her dress.
And thus the same old story showed
The same old way, the same old road:
Of “time 0
the use of love or hate
space or will or fate?”