ml
December 192Jp
HIGH LIFE
1*
I REMIISriSCENCES
I
I
I
■“•i*
COUNTIN’ LICKS
March 15, 1917.
Whew, I’m so mad! Old Dorothy
Hooper! I can hardly write her name,
old teacher’s pet, she thinks she so big
just ’cause she has long curls and black
and white shoes! Well, she got me in
trouble today but I got her back all
right. If it weren’t for you, diary, I’d
explode. Well, here’s my story.
Pate Jackson brought a frog to school
this morning and of course it had to
get out and hop right up to the teacher’s
desk. Also of course, Pate got a heatin’.
Every time Mrs. McSorley applied the
paddle, I raised up a finger. When ten
had been raised and I was wondering
where the rest were coming from, the
sounds ceased and teacher and pupil re
turned to the room. Everything was
ready to start again when old pesky
Dorothy raised her hand and to the
teacher’s “What is it, Dorothy, dear?”
responded, “Mrs. McSorley, Mary raised
up a finger every time you gave Pate a
lick.” Gee, but that made me mad! The
next thing I knew I was counting my
own licks—eight of ’em and every one
harder than the one before. I still sting!
AVell, I was just settin’ for that old
Miss Priss. She had on her best dress
and I was determined she wouldn’t get
home with that adjective still in front
of it. After school I headed for the
park and waited in the ambushes (we
had that word in reading today—it means
some bushes that you hide in when you
want to jump out on somebody and sur
prise them.) Pretty soon she came along,
walking just as daintily and eating an
apple. I stepped out into the path and
a look of horror came into her eyes.
Now it was her time to count licks and
believe me she did it!
Mary Thurman.
MY NEW UMBRELLA
I was about tbe age of three and had
just become the owner of a very pretty
umbrella in which I took much pride.
I was so proud of it that when I was
permitted to use it, it was almost im
possible to get it away from me or to
even let it down on proper occasions. I
always wanted everyone to see it and
made every effort to get them to look
at it.
Sunday came, the day of all days,
when I knew I could attract most atten
tion with it. I walked to Sunday school
feeling very big with my umbrella over
my head and imagined every one looking
at it. All went smoothly with me until
I reached the door of the church—here
is where the calamity came.
A very prominent woman was to speak
in our church that day and there was an
unusually large crowd there. This wo
man knew my mother and as she hap
pened to be near me on entering the
church o( course lielped me. When we
reached the door of the church she
thought she would kindly assist me in
letting down my umbrella. But lo! in
stead of it being a kindness to me it
was an insult, and I set up such a howl
and took it so hard that the astonished
woman was forced to put the umbrella
up again and in this way led me into
the church. I sat on the very front row
and proudly held my umbrella over my
head, perfectly unconscious of the mirth
I was causing all around me.
Grace Marshaee.
diate^ set in pursuit of, causing the loss
of one peanut butter sandwich, one or
ange, and one red-fringed napkin, gen
erously supplied by “Grandma.”
The grief, however, did not dim my
enthusiasm, for I walked up the steps
and entered the building, a very snaggle-
toothed smile on my shining face.
After blundering into the second, third
and fourth grades successively, I man
aged to reach the assigned room with
the combined aid of the janitor and a
long-legged boy from the sixth grade.
Entirely undismayed at my lateness,
I seated myself at a front desk, all the
while quite conscious of the pink bow
adorning my scanty locks.
But “pride goeth before a fall.” Be
ing immediately seized with a violent
crush for the teacher, who was both
young and pretty, I made all kinds of
wild efforts to attract her attention, from
sticking the little boy across the aisle
with a pin to making crowing sounds
from the top of the desk.
Then my chance came. Lifting her
voice above all the confusion, she asked
for the scissors. A dozen hands, all
probably as eager to carry them to her
as mine, grabbed for the desired article.
But I was first. Marching across the
room with a self-confident strut and giv
ing my defeated rivals a contemptuous
look, I handed them to her, point first.
But instead of the gracious smile I was
expecting, she looked past me to the
unfortunate group and said, “Will some
one please show this rude little girl how
to hand the scissors to me?”
And that was my first day at school.
Corinne Cook.
MANSIONS
OCTOBER
The following is a contribution from
Master C. S. Vestal, a sixth grader,
whose birthday is on the same anniver
sary as I.ongfellow’s birthday:
THE GREAT ADVENTURE
September the first! What agonies
doesn’t that day spell for the average
American youth! The preceding day is
usually spent by the “Jimmies” and the
“Johnnies” in concentrating on the burn
ing of the schoolhouse or in imagining
that ever-present nightmare, the school
marm, stricken with an incurable malady.
The first graders, like lambs led to the
slaughter, cherish no such devastating
thoughts. The dire day is looked for
ward to and longed for with all their
six-year-old ardor.
Such was my case. After a violent
but unsuccessful scrimmage at the wash
basin and being unwillingly forced into
“rubbers” and burdened with a huge um
brella, I set out for the great adventure.
I finally reached the school block, but
not before a disaster with the lunch bas
ket clasped tightly in my right hand,
which a stray clog had sniffed and imme
When bright October comes along,
The leaves all sing her a song;
The trees are xiery bare and bleak
The same and dear old mountain peak,
Everything outside is very sad.
But when comes home our dear loved
Dad,
We all to entertainment seek.
The night is slowly dragging by.
That is before the scene would die.
Dad thinks it’s all right to peep;
The horse out in the barn is pawing.
We’ll all soon be asleep.
LEAKSVILLE HIGH GIRLS
PLAN TO HAVE TITLE TEAM
The Leaksville girls’ basketball team
put Greensboro out of the running last
year in the championship series. This
year we wonder what they’re going to
do. Here’s their view:
“The students of Leaksville H. S. have
always exhibited great interest in ath
letics, and this fervor has in no way
abated this year. Although it is the
beginning of the basketball season, feel
ing is running high, and the school is
looking forward to the winning of new
laurels.
“Last year the girl’s basketball team
made a wonderful record, losing only one
game during the entire season. Owing
to the fact that this year’s team is com
posed of the same competent players of
last year’s team, they hope to make a
perfect record.
“Evelyn Gunn holds down her posi
tion as center with a vengeance. Terror
follows in her wake, and when she ap
pears on the field fear strikes into the
hearts of her opponents.
‘Tola Hill is one of our iron-clad
guards. When the enemy’s ball comes
into her territory, it is immediately in
tercepted and started on its homeward
journey. Lillian Ault is our other guard.
She covers her field in the twinkling of
an eye. She has the happy knack of
always being where her opponents don’t
want her, and just where her own team
mates can count on her.
“ ‘Liz’ Gunn, Mary Marshall and Eu
nice Barkam continuously feed the hun
gry little basket. Once the ball is in
their hands its destination is fixed.
“With Mr. E. W. Tenney as coach, the
team expects to have a very successful
year.”
Prof: “Tell me. Miss Jones, what do
you think of the Turkish atrocities?”
Co-ed: “Sir, I’ll have you to under
stand that I’m one of the few girls who
still refrain from smoking.”—Carolina
Buccaneer.
Many, many years ago there was a
boy—not just a plain, ordinary boy, but
one who was different. Even when he
was small, he did not romp and play
among the villagers’ children around his
mother’s doorstep. Instead, he sat off
by himself, planning and thinking. One
had to speak a dozen times before he
came out of his trance, and even then
he was so dazed and half-asleep that
people called him crazy and even the
little children awoided him on the street.
One day, he was a fair, slender lad of
sixteen, the boj^ had become tired of the
common villagers, toiling day after day,
year after year, for a mere existence, so
he decided to set out into the world.
Placing his few, meager belongings into
a handkerchief, tying the bundle to his
staff, and putting a few crusts of bread
into his pocket, he set out.
He traveled hard, and on the third
day, weary and footsore, arrived at the
beautiful Sea of Dreams. It shimmered
and shone in the brilliant sunlight; and
on its waves, as they splashed on the
white sands, sparkled like the diamonds
on the robes of the Queen, whom he had
once seen when he was a small boy. Gaz
ing in rapture at the sea, he thought not
of the wild storms and mighty waves
which might harm; for across the Sea
of Dreams was a silver shallop sailing
toward him. Its silken sails were all
unfurled and he heard sweet music waft
ed softly to him on the breeze.
Wading out to the shallop he climbed
aboard to find himself surrounded by
beautiful maidens, who lulled him to rest
among the silken cushions, softly caress
ing his cheek as he fell into a deep sleep.
When he again awakened he found
himself on the Island of Fancy, while
the silver shallop sailed away into the
distance, until its sails were behind the
horizon. However, he did not care, as
the island seemed the most beautiful
place in all the earth, and he would
have been content to stay there for
ever. It was always summer, and the
most exquisitely perfumed flowers bloom
ed everywhere in riotous profusion. On
looking about him, the Boy discovered
that the pebbles on the beach were pre
cious stones,—rubies, sapphires, pearls,
and diamonds. He fell upon them, drunk
with joy, tossing them into the sunlight,
and laughing with glee as they rained
glittering about bis head.
“Surely,” he thought, “these are the
most beautiful stones in all the world,
and of these will I build my house.”
Each day he labored, with aching back
and sweat of blood, till finally his house
stood finished on the beach. It stood
tall and spacious above the whispering
trees; and even the gorgeous butterflies
flying about its shining towers seemed
to fly more happily because of its great
beauty.
On the night of its completion the
Man (for he was now a man) entered
and lay down to rest from his labors.
“My house is the most beautiful in all
the world,” he said to himself, “for it is
built of nothing but the precious, flaw
less gems of Fancy.”
Then he slept, but in the night he was
aroused from his slumbers by the waves
pounding unceasingly about the towers.
He got up and went outside. The waves
climbed higher and higher, until they
reached the door of his wonderful man
sion, and he was forced to take refuge
on the one gray rock in the center of
the island. Crying out in his anguish
for God to save him, he saw the waves
beat against his House of Dreams mer
cilessly till at last it crumbled with a
roar into the sea.
All night he clung to the rock, and
when day dawned at last, nothing was
left of the island but the great gray rock,
which before he had thought rough and
ugly. All day the sun beat its rays down
upon him, till in exhaustion he was about
to give up, when he saw a small raft
being brought to him over the waves.
With his last feeble strength he swam
out to it, and sailed without food or
drink for many days.
Finally he was thrown up on the Island
of Faith. By this time he i was a middle-
aged man, but taking courage, he gath
ered delightedly the Rocks of Love and
labored for many years to rebuild his
house. He worked tirelessly till he was
an old, old man, and his hair was long
and white, and although he was still un
satisfied, he was too weak and infirm to
work longer.
“See!” he cried to himself, “it is no
mansion! It is only a small hut, but it
took me twice as long to build it as it
did my House of Dreams! Why should
I labor so hard, and have nothing but
this for my work? Nothing but a little
hut, made of plain brown stones! Why
did I not give up before I started?
Other men have beautiful mansions for
almost nothing, but I—I have to labor
for years for only the smallest shelter!”
And he fell across the doorstep, dead.
The next day, as the people passed on
their way to the fields, they stopped and
stared in amazement at the structure,
for it was no longer a little brown hut,
but a stately, columned mansion, shin
ing and sparkling in the sun so brightly
that they hid their eyes from its dazzling
brilliance; for it was built of pure gems
—ideals.
Mar.torie Vanneman.
A DISCARDED EVENING DRESS
How many good times a party dress
could relate, I mused, as I happened
upon my first evening dress in a little
bundle in the bottom of an old trunk.
It was once a beautiful shade of deli
cate pink chiffon, with little touches of
cream lace and French blue ribbons here
and there. Holding it up before me, I
fingered it fondly, recalling as I did so
the many delightful occasions on which
I had worn this dress. Then there was
the little hole in the skirt which had been
torn on the door of an automobile. How
well I remembered my dismay at this
mishap! I could not help smiling as
I beheld the little pink satin rosette on
the shoulder. It had seemed to sit there
like a gay, living thing, enjoying the fun
as I did, but now it is faded and torn.
I sighed to think of this little rose: its
good times are over but mine will keep
on. I sighed again, I do not know why,
and laid the little bundle of pink chiffon,
lace, ribbon and pleasant thoughts away.
Lois Schoonover.
THE ANTIQUE MIRROR
There she hangs on the drawing-room
wall, blinking and flashing amidst the
dazzling lights. Although a relic of long
ages past, the mirror still has her place
in the evening’s festivities. No wall
flower is she. Each newcomer, without
exception, first seeks her smiling face;
and vanity crowns her the belle of the
ball.
What a contrast this presents to her
life of former days! Hanging year
after year in one of those quiet, musty
parlors of many centuries ago, the old
looking-glass had acquired its dreamy,
moss-grown atmosphere. In her cool
depths had been reflected the same old
family heirlooms, from ages immemorial.
Thus, shut out from the world with all
its throbbing life, the mirror had come
to personify self-satisfied complacency.
Now she has been ruthlessly snatched
frem her quiet retreat and thrust into
the full blaze of a fashionable society.
But, just as when an orphaned country
girl, who had been adopted by a wealthy
aunt, contrary to all expectations, blos
soms forth into a belle, so this hand
some looking-glass, when forced sudden
ly into another world, changes her char
acter to suit the occasion and surpasses
even the most sophisticated coquettes.
There she hangs tonight on the draw
ing-room wall, her gilt outer edge rival
ing her polished surface as she ogles and
winks at the gay, laughing crowd.
Elizabeth Smith.
Tie that will not xvhen he may,
When he will he shall have nay.
—Burton,
♦VV”
GIRLS’ BASKETBALL
SCHEDULE
Class Games
Nov. 24 — Junior-Senior, Y. M.
C. A. at 7 o’clock.
Nov. 25—Soph-Junior, Y. M. C.
A. at 4 o’clock.
Dec. 2—Senior-Fresh, Y. W. C.
A. at 4 o’clock.
Dec. 3—Fresh-Soph, Y. M. C.
A. at 7 o’clock.
Dec. 9—Fresh-Junior, Y. W. C.
A. at 4 o’clock.
Dec. 11—Senior-Soph, Y. W. C.
A. at 4 o’clock.
Dec. 12—Final.
.1111^—till—till——II
alumni ISlews
1
•§wii^—nil—nil—-nil—till—MM—till—nil-—nil—.1111—till—II
The student body will be interested to
know where some of our former teachers
are spending the winter.
Miss Cross is teaching in Chattanooga.
Here is a short extract from one of her
letters:
“Chattanooga is lovely and I shall en
joy teaching here; but somehow I can’t
help longing for the wonderful spirit
of G. H. S. Then, too, I haven’t as yet
discovered ‘a daring Herman High,’ ‘a
gallant Albert Uzzell,’ ‘an adorable Eg
bert Anderson,’ or ‘a pert Jimmie Mc
Alister.’ ”
Miss Summerill is teaching English
at Winthrop College.
Miss Gressitt is teaching at a boys’
school. Silver Bay, New York, on Lake
George. She reports a lovely and beau
tiful school and is enjoying her work
greatly..
Mr. Jenkins seems to think tobacco
buying is much nicer than teaching, and
so is engaged in this business in Buena
Vista.
Miss Orr, our lovely librarian, is liv
ing in High Point.
Mr. Hauk is studying at Columbia
University.
Miss Dorsett finds Durham a nice
place to live in and so is teaching there.
Mr. Fulton is in Durham in the to
bacco business.
Miss Morrow is spending the winter
with her sister at El Paso, Texas, where
she intends to “study a little, play a
little, and rest a little.”
From the Daily Record we copy:
“Word from College Park, Md., where
the University of North Carolina Fresh
men played the Maryland Freshmen Sat
urday is that Bobby Wilkins, of Greens
boro, played a superb game at quarter
back for the Tar Heels, who finally were
beaten by one point after scoring two
touchdowns in the first quarter.
“Wilkins, son of Mr. and Mrs. John
D. Wilkins, this city, was a star during
the time he was a student in the Greens
boro High School and he and Norman
Block had no difficulty in negotiating
the Carolina first year team when they
entered the Tar Heel university for the
present term. Block has been used reg
ularly at center.
“Greensboro high schoolers who are
away at college are playing an import
ant part in football doings.
“Down at Trinity Buster Swift, Earl
Sellars, Willie Green and the two Mc
Intosh brothers, Penn and Brooks, are
regarded as among the best material
Howard Jones has for the Blue Devil
varsity a year from now. First year
rules have prevented Jones from using
most of these players in games with
state elevens; in others they have played
well.
“Greensboro has turned out good elev
ens for the past three years, and in
each instance, one of the Purple Whirl
winds has been eliminated from the
championship contest by either ill fate
or a plagued small number of points.
The season that is ended is no exception,
and if we were in charge of the gang
next season we’d have a horseshoe em
blazoned on each jersey for the good
luck such an emblem might bring.”
The Greensboro Daily News makes
honorable mention of our boys, too:
“At Davidson this fall two Greensboro
boys demonstrated that they were not
back numbers at all. Hendrix, finishing
his football career at the Presbyterian
school this year, is undoubtedly one of
the cleverest and fastest offensive back-
field men in the state. Then, too, Char
lie Harrison, another G. H. S. man, made
things hum in the Wild-Kitten backfield
this fall. Harrison was one of the best
ground gainers in the Davidson fresh
man lineup.
“Up at Episcopal High, Alexandria,
Va., Chaptain George Taylor and Gar
land Daniel, Jr., have made names for
themselves in Virginia prep school cir
cles. Newspaper reports from Washing
ton and near-by cities herald the two
Greensboro boys as the outstanding play
ers on the strong and undefeated Epis
copal eleven. Daniel plays at full, while
Taylor holds down the pivot position in
the line.”
III!!!
!!!d
illiil
t MR!
m
I