Thursday, March 26, 1925
From one end of the land to the other
a great change is slowly creeping over
the face of the earth. In the crowded
streets of the great eastern mart of trade
and the dusty main street of the sleepy
little southwestern town, the sweet, fra
grant air of newly-arrived spring is cir
culating. Mother Nature is emerging
from her dull, drab winter raiment and
is donning the gay, gaudy garments of
spring. The plants and animals are filled
with newly-stirring life and energy. But
the strangest of all Nature’s creatures,
man, is engulfed by a sleepy lassitude
which he in his folly terms spring fever.
At a mahogany desk in a palatial suite
of offices on the top floor of one of the
towering skyscrapers lining Wall Street
sat one of the nation’s greatest captains
of industry. Through his keen mind ran
the details of the huge deal which he
would close within the next half hour.
It meant a cool million in clear profit
for him. Fie had his selling talk, which
he was confident would swing the deal,
all outlined except for one point. “Have
to go find out about that from Jasper,”
he muttered to himself, starting to rise.
Just then a breath of spring air came
in at the open window, bringing with it
the fragrant perfume of far-olf wood
land flowers. It conjured before his
eyes the vision of a splendid trout leap
ing above the smooth surface of a tran
quil lake in a silvery arc. The far-famed
financier sank back into his chair and
gave himself up to pleasant dreams of
the coming season’s sport. Before he
was aware of the passing of time the
half hour had elapsed and the other par
ties to the deal had arrived.
The negotiations were proceeding very
smoothly when the point about which the
capitalist was not sure came up. He was
not able to answer the others’ questions
satisfactorily and they left, declaring the
deal off. ”A little touch of spring fever
had caused the commercial king to lose
a million dollars.
The scene was a typical backwoods set
tlement of the Carolina mountains. On
the porch of the general store sat a trio
of mountaineers on boxes tilted back
against the wall. The three men pre
sented a picture of almost perfect sus
pended animation. A lean razorback hog
wandered out from under the j:)orch steps
into the sunlight of the glorious April
morning and up into the porch. It rubbed
against the trouser-leg of one of the
men, but he lacked the energy to give
him the hearty kick he ordinarily would
have given him.
A tall, loose-jointed man with a silver
sheriff’s’ badge pinned to his blue denim
shirt came out of the store and leaned
against the door jamb. His eyes were
steely blue and his face gave the impres
sion of strength and dependability. He
glanced down at the three men leaning
against the wall, who looked up at him
with mute appeal in their eyes. These
were his deputies. A wistful look passed
across his face as he noted a fourth in
viting-looking cracker box against the
wall. A raid on a bootleg still was plan
ned for the morning, but spring fever,
to which the mountaineer is an easy prey,
had them in its grasp, and with a ges
ture of surrender he sat down by his
A rifle cracked in front of the post
office across the street and the bullet
buried itself in the door jamb against
which the sheriff had been leaning a mo
ment before. Almost instantly a revolver
barked twice from the pocket of one of
the deputies and the form of a man
crumpled to the ground. The men rushed
across the street and examined the body,
finding it to be that of a law-breaker who
had sworn to “get” the sheriff. Spring
fever had saved the sheriff’s life and
led to the death of the would-be assassin.
The chief executive of the nation sat
at his desk upon which was piled a mass
of work for him to do. Outside the win
dow on the White House lawn a cherry
tree was covered with a profusion of deli
cate pink blossoms. The perfume was
wafted in to the President’s nostrils and
he sank back in his chair, overcome by
that lassitude which overcomes even the
highest and the lowest of us in the spring
time. The pressing affairs of state at
tendant to the Presidency of the great
est country on earth waited while spring
fever had its effect upon even the stern
and duty-loving New Englander.
Possum Abbs lay on his back under
the shade trees in front of liis cabin
down on the Alabama plantation. His
young and shining black face wore a
satisfied look as the gentle breezes of
the beautiful April morning stirred the
branches over his head.
A dusky damsel approached up the
road from the big house.
“Possum,” she addressed him as soon
as she came within speaking distance.
Miss Sally done tol’ me ter do some
washin’ today and ah wants you to tote
“Black gal, ah ain’t gwine ter git up
f’om here ’less ah has ter, an’ I knows
dog-gone well dat ah ain’t gwine tote
no watah fo’ nobody,” Possum replied.
“Looky here, niggah, me an’ you is
gaged ter be married, ain’t we?” she
“We ain’t nothin’ else but,” Possum
“Well den, ef you craves dat we stay
dat way, you bettah come on an’ carry
dis watah. Ef you don’t, you ain’t goin’
ter be married with me no mo’ dan Job’s
tubkey,” the black girl declared.
“Honey, ah loves you, but ah loves mah
rest mo’ w’en I is got de spring fevah,”
and Possum’s voice had a ring of sin
cerity in it.
Tlie girl turned and haughtily walked
away. “Our ’gagement is busted in ’bout
a million pieces, ’member dat, you wo’th-
less, no-’count niggah,” she flung back
over her shoulder.
Possum philosophized to himself as he
watched her retreating form: “Well, dey
is plenty mo’ cullud gals, bxit dey ain’t
hut one spring time oh de year.”
BEAUTY vs. BRAINS
‘Miss Teinpevamentiil April”
April, one of the loveliest months of
the year, has a name that is especially fit
ting, for it comes from a I^atin word
meaning “to open.” It is the time of
opening buds, when fruit trees are laden
with fragrant blossoms.
The wintry winds, biting frost, all dis
appear under April’s shining sun—weary
souls tired of the long winter months
with their coldness and privations and
sickness, welcome Ai^ril with joyful
hearts, and a new man or woman steps
out, ready to meet the various petty
temptations and trials of life with a
lighter and more carefree heart.
April has often been called—and right
ly so — “Miss Temperamental April.”
With her saucy smiles and her petulant
looks, she indeed earns the name; one
minute smiling glad and gay, flirting gai
ly with the reciprocating world, then
again she dashes away our ardor with
a sudden shower of tears.
She greets strangers with a cordial
shake of the hand, and then with utmost
rudeness turns on them a cold, almost
frigid shoulder. Indeed little Miss April
may be appropriately called “Miss Tem
Besides being one of the very loveliest
months of the year, April has for an
added charm “April Fool’s Day,” the
day of days for the young.sters; they
have looked forward the year around in
joyful anticipation of this day, with their
mischievous, harmless pranks. Not only
the youngsters, but older and wiser heads
than they, enjoy this fun-making day.
No fun-loving human being can resist the
appeal of the jolly words, “April Fool—
I got you!”
Oh, April, with thy golden laughter
and thy silvery tears, come quickly and
PONZrS NINE FROM
(Continnetl from page one)
The game was Greensboro’s from the
start, with the locals chasing across three
runs in the first rack. The invaders blew
up in the fourth and 13 G. H. S. players
batted, nine runs counting. Seven more
came in the fifth and two more in the
Coach Johnston used many substitutes
the last two innings. King, Wentworth
first baseman, made an unassisted double
play when he took a fly and stepped on
the bag. G. Davis made a nice stop and
throw at third.
Score by innings: R. H- E.
Wentworth —jOOO 000 0— 0 2
Greensboro 300 972 x—21 18
Batteries: Meador and Sulphin; Fife,
Bennett and Burgess, Davant.
I awoke with a start. I had a “hunch,”
as the boys say, that something was going
to happen. I was terribly bored (being
a basketball basket is not especially ex
citing unless a game is on) and so was
ready for anything that might come. I
glanced around my home, the Caldwell
School gym. As usual, my twin basket
was directly across the room from me.
I discovered it was S^till asleep, so I call
ed out and woke it. Pretty soon things
began to happen.
First a crowd of chattering, loud-talk
ing humans came in and began to fill tbe
sitting and standing place. Now I have
no grudge against all humans but I must
say some of them are the queerest, fun
niest creatures I have ever seen. They
seem to think they and their clothes are
the only things on earth. They talk, or
rather chatter, incessantly, and each one
tries to outdo the other.
These humans were very excited over
something. I wondered for some time
just what it was. At last some kind
female explained to her small son that
soon he would see a game between the
girls of Greensboro High School and the
women faculty. So that was it! Well,
I would certainly be very watchful.
Suddenly the crowd of mortals broke
into an uproarious laugh which ended
in shrieks and hand-clapping. I looked
down and found the cause for their
amusement. What a sight met my eyes!
A group of old, crippled school teachers
were hobbling, hopping,, and limping
around the gym with bandages and
crutches very much in evidence. How
on earth could they ho])e to i)lay bas-
betball? Brains versus Beauty! I curi
ously awaited developments.
When the whistle sounded they dis
carded their bandages, limps, age, and
dignity, and entered heartily and joyous
ly into the game. They dodged and dip
ped around the court as though they had
played every day of their lives. They
were quick as lightning and kept the
opposing “flappers” busy. Indeed when
they once caught the spirit of the game
one could scarcely tell which were flap
pers and which were teachers. They were
good sports, too. Each knock (and they
received a good many as several girls
were paying up old scores) was taken
easily, and each fall with grace. They
were a good match for the girls.
And the girls! Oh, the girls seemed to
be having the time of their lives. Some
were seeking revenge for past grudges,
some seeing how many of their dignified
teachers they could knock down in the
struggle, and others were playing with
all their might and main. They fought
to win. They had to fight, and they won.
The crowd laughed and applauded
long and loud. They were certainly en
joying the evening. Well, I was too.
Soon another whistle sounded and an
announcement was made concerning the
second game of the evening—between the
varsity girls, who were bristling with
pride because of their victory over the
austere faculty, and another team which
appeared on the court at this moment.
Roars of laughter rocked the audience;
nor could I blame them for they were
indeed queer-looking. Clad in middy
blouses and gay-colored skirts, prefer
ably orange, these new players ranged
in size from the smallest pigmie to the
At first glance I classified them as
country girls who had come to match
their strength and skill with that of the
girls of G. H. S.—but no, they were boys.
Yes, boys! A glance at their garters
worn as head bands, and their vanity
cases concealed in their socks convinced
me no feminine creatures would ever be
guilty of such atrocities!
The whistle blew again and the “Com
edy of Errors” began. The “country-
girl-boys” were guilty of every breach
of basketball etiquette known. Long
runs were made across the court, and at
times their tallest players stopped dead
still and held it at a tantalizing distance
just beyond the reach of the girls. One
sweet young thing even tried to hide the
ball under his (or rather her) skirts
while he sped across the court.
True to life, these “country-girl-boys”
proved to be veritable sbeiks in their
efforts to vamp the referee, and fouls
were constantly called during the game
At the close of the game, the loving
cup, which proved to be a large, shiny
syrup can bearing the inscription “Cham
pions ’25” was presented to the boys, as
the undisputed victors of the evening.
The echoes of the applause soon died
away as the crowd departed, leaving the
gym dark and silent. I began to feel
sleepy and so, having satisfied my desire
for excitement, I very contentedly closed
my eyes and was soon lost in dreams of
teachers with young faces and boys with
The Grey ling’s a-leap in the river,
The Big Horn’s asleep on the hill;
’Tis a sign of the coming of spring,
And it sets the whole world a-thrill.
THE GIRL IN NUMBER
Like an artist with hrnsh and easel.
Nature sweeps over the land.
I’o paint with her skill and heanty
ylll the world wilh a wondrons hand.
The birds are winging northward,
For they knota that spring is here,
To bring ns the first glad tidings
Of the sunny season of year.
The trees are beginning to bnd.
The flowers are a-bloom on the lea;
The sw'eet scented clover and copse
Are yielding their sap to the bee.
The thrushes are busy in the thicket,
Building their nest out of thorns,
And soon you will hear them gaily
Warbling their age-old love song.
At twilight upon the brook
The shadow of the willow doth ])lay.
As the sunlight beams upon the stream
7'o proclaim the end, of day.
DAVIDSON FRESH WIN
FAST TRACK CONTEST
(Continued from page one)
220-yd. dash—Currie, Davidson; Ison,
Charlotte, Myles, Oxford. Time, 24 1-5.
Half mile—Fisher, Salisbury; Rowe,
Charlotte; Brown, Charlotte. Time,
2:09 4-5 (new record).
Mile — Fisher, Salisbury; Barkley,
Statesville; Penn, Davidson. Time, 4:57.
440-yd. dash—Nesbit, Davidson; Mc-
Millian, Davidson; O’Neil, Charlotte.
Time, 57 1-5.
120-yd. hurdles—Reed, Charlotte; Lo-
chiotte, Charlotte; Whittington, Greens
boro. Time, 16 sec. (new record).
Shot-Put—Reed, W.-S.; Blackwood,
W.-S.; Melton, Davidson. Distance, 38
ft. 6 1-4 inch.
Pole Vault—Duncan and McGeasley
tied for first place; Hunt, Oxford. Ht.,
Javelin—McNinch, Charlotte; Black
wood, Winston; Brown, Greensboro. Dis
tance, 137 1-4 ft.
Broad Jump — Harrison, Davidson;
Melton, Davidson; McNinch, Charlotte.
Distance, 19 ft. 4 3-4 inch.
High Jump—Smith, Statesville; Good
win, Greensboro; Reid, Charlotte. Heiglff,
5 ft. 5 in.
Discus—Summerville, Charlotte; New
man, Winston; Goodwin, Greensboro.
Distance, 93 ft. 3 1-4 in.
Starter: Rawson; Timer: Hendrix;
Field Judge, Younger (U. P. I.)
It was late in September, 19—, that
Jim Williams, a young broker from New
York, sat in the smoking car of the Can
non Ball Westbound Limited as it sped
on its way to sunny California. He was
apparently very happy and carefree. He
sat there day-dreaming till finally he was
awakened by a husky, jolly-faced indi
vidual who asked him for a match.
The jolly-faced individual introduced
himself as Robert Bruce, a hardware
salesman from Youngstown, Ohio. He
and Jim were soon the best of friends
and as they smoked a couple of his El
Perfecto cigars (two for fifteen cents or
ten cents straiglit) they discussed every
thing from the weatlier to ])olitics. Fin
ally Bob said to Jim, “Did you see that
young lady in number seven?”
“Yes, I saw her,” was the rei)ly.
“Some beauty, eh?”
“When I see a girl like that it makes
me wish I had married. Wouldn’t you
like to marry her?”
“Can’t say I would,” replied Jim.
“Why, man, she is a i^erfect Venus!
Imok at those eyes, her complexion, and
best of all, that smile of hers!”
“That’s right,” said Jim. “But let’s
go out on the observation platform and
see the scenery.”
“All right,” agreed Bob.
To get to the observation platform
they had to pass through the Pullman,
and as they went through it, Jim stopped
beside No. 7 where the girl of whom they
had been s])eakiiig sat reading.
“My dear, allow me to introduce to you
my friend, Mr. Bruce,” said Jim.
“You know I am always glad to meet
a friend of yours, Jim. 1 am glad to
xneet you, Mr. Bruce.”
“Bob, old top, this is my wife,” said
Jim, highly amused at his friend’s exas
FRANK M’CRAVY SINGS AND
GIRI.S’ TEAM PRESENTS PLAY
(Continued from page one)
The latter part of the program was a
play presented by the members of the
girls’ varsity basketball squad, in which
actors, actresses, scenery and footlights
were represented by the girls themselves.
The play had neither name nor plot, but
it was well presented and kept the audi
ence in laughter most of the time. Sadie
Clement played the part of the shero.
Marguerite Harrison the villain, and
Helen Forbis the hero.
WINSTON-SALEM PLAYERS WIN
IN LOCAL DRAMATIC CONTEST
(Continued, from page one)
TORCHIJGHT BEARERS HONOR
NEW MEMBERS WITH BANQUET
(Continued from page one)
of which the Torchlight Society is a
member. She also explained the mean
ing of the words Phi Beta Kappa. The
ideals of the society were pointed out by
Miss Garnett Gregory. Miss I>ois Dor-
sett told what the club had meant to her,
and Miss IJllian Killingsworth expressed
lier delight in the association and what
it meant to G. H. S.
In response to the president’s request,
Mr. I.ee Edwards spoke of the improve
ments in the schools in the last few years.
After the new members took the sacred
oath of membership Miss I>aura Tillett,
the F'orchlight faculty adviser, welcomed
them. Bob Stone responded on behalf
of the new members, after which the
“good-nights” were said.
Wife: “Would you like some nice waf
fles this morning, dear?”
Husband: “No, thanks, Helen. They
look so much like fried crossword puz
zles, and I’m all fed up on those.”
Power is not so much a question of
noise, as a question of poise.
Virginia McClamroch as Mag reminded
one of Elizabeth Taylor’s wonderful in
terpretation of the role. Martha Broad-
hurst as Peggy and Judah Shohan as
Will were the other stars of the play.
Bob Stone as Jed, Edward McNeely as
Mr. MacDonald, Clem Campbell as Her
man, and FLlgar Young as Wesley ably
supported the leads.
The Reidsville students presented “The
The Winston-Salem cast did admirable
work in “Fixin’s.” Fritz Firey in the
role of Lily Robinson, Dwight I.,inville
as Ed Robinson, and Spruill Thornton
in the part of Jim Cooper niade the in
vincible trio—made invincible through the
untiring work of Osier Bailey, Winston-
Salem’s coach, and disciple of Mr. Koch.
Judges in the contest were L. B. Hur
ley, B. B. Kendrick, Charles B. Shaw,
Mrs. W. W. Martin, and J. A. Dunn.
The i)lay winning in the local triangle
will go to Chapel Hill to compete fur
ther with otlier dramatic clubs for state
A BIOLOGY STUDENT’S LETTER
Dear Sweet Patootie:
When have you bean? Don’t you car
rot all for me? My heart beets faster
when the sun shines on your radish hair
and glints off your turnip nose. If you
canteloupe lettuce marry. We will make
a happy pear. Let’s orange it that way.
Your sweet Corn Onna Cobb.
Optimism is the microscoj^e by which
we perceive the pearl of blessing in every
Motto for a fireplace: “No smoking.’