THE O. H. S. TIGER, NOVEMBER 29, 1922 Page 3 LITERARY THANKSGIVING PROCLAMATION Oh hear ye, Oh hear ye, students of the Ogden high school: Nigh is the time of ffeasting and rejoicing, the time to tune your hearts in joyful praises, the period to forget all un-pleasantness. Grieve not over your voice lost somewhere in Lorin Farr park in cheering our noble victors of the football field, for no doubt your yelling spurred the "Tigers" to glory. Weep not that school dances are few, for remember, we patronize this institution of learning not to gain the knowledge of the latest dance steps but to enlarge our mental capacity. Fret not, storm not, at some un¬reasonable teacher who has not given you a higher mark than you deserve but with dignified repentance deter¬mine to be worthy of higher recogni-tion. Yea, too, in your praises ,forget not the superintendent, the principal and the teachers who have made your high school years a joy and benefit. Rejoice too, in the stately founda¬tion of knowledge upon which "Our High" still stands, for on that de¬pends our future success and hers. And thus do we, the students who assemble in room 304 hereby solemn¬ly invoke and proclaim a day of Thanksgiving to all our fellow7 stu¬dents. —Kyle Passey. —O-H-S— BEWARE OF YOUR FRIEND There were two friends both kind and true You know the kind— a second you. They knew each other's thoughts by heart, In every act they each took part. Secrets were1 whispered and never told They were real friends like those of old. There soon came a secret in one fellow's life, A secret regarding his soon-to-be wife. This secret, too good to be left all unheard Was told to the friend when once they conferred. Soon the second friend let the secret out, And a broken friendship came about. One lost his wife, the other, his friend There their friendship came to a sud¬den end. They drifted apart and soon forgot The many things they together had wrought. You can't guard secrets w7ith such care That none shall know they are not there. So watch your friends, regardless how true, Because they're no stronger than I or you. If a secret's so big you can't keep it alone Don't tell a friend or it'll get back home-. —Wallace Goates. —O-H-S— WHY IT'S FALL This is surely the most falling time of the year, Because to us falls a wealth of good cheer. The summer leaves all yellow and red, Fall carelessly into their wintry bed. Rain long needed on the world so dry, Falls from a dark and cloudy sky. And just to please our appetites, Down fall nuts and apples ripe. Then to harmonize with all Of course our grades begin to fall. Careless folks trip on the stair, A fall to the bottom all unaware. And to the Tiger's great delight Every foe has fallen before them, in fright. Why so many things are falling to¬day And yet we all are so happy and gay, I can find but one explanation, Which is this little quotation, "This is Fall." —Alene Rutledge. —O-H-S— MRS. CAMP - ROOM 304 STORM IN THE MOUNTAINS I was working this summer in the Wasatch Mountains. This range has been dominated by God alone and is full yet of that spirit; in silence, and unknown peace. Here you become so deep, that you see what a small thing you really are and you wish you could be forever in the unknown wilderness and yet you feel as never before your duty to the struggling millions of a civilized world. These were my feelings as I stood on a slope of a hill, covered with quaking aspens, watching a brook running like a silver thread in the valley far below, while the prairie dogs called to each other and darted from hole to hole in the fear of a hawk that was circling far above in an azure sky. A cloud was being blown here and there by a slight breeze. But these seemed utterly insignificant in that great panorama and I sat down and continued my watch of the different animals and living creatures. Suddenly I noticed a dark shade had mysteriously passed over me. I looked up quickly. An ominous looking black cloud was above me, the breeze had become livelier, it was colder, and the prairie dogs were no longer to be seen, birds were flying swiftly past, chirping hurried con¬versations to each other, while on a pine far up the slope sat the hawk. Looking up the slope opposite, I saw a cloud coming over the top, rolling like a massive black demon bent on destroying all. Fitful flashes of lightning illuminated the sky and looked as though streaks of fire were belching forth from , the mouth of a pre-historic monster. The wind had risen until the trees on the top of the slope bent as in homage to a great warrier or monster. The thunder roared as a mighty com¬mander of old at his hosts. Every¬thing was dark and the oblivion of night was the result. I crept almost in fear (my fancies almost getting the better of me) into the shelter of a small pine. The rain came down in fitful bursts driven by the wind, which was now howling thru the trees, now moaning, now singifig in glee, and then shriek¬ing like some indescribable dying creature. As I sat there I watched and heard all, always watching the opposite slope from whence the storm came. Suddenly a streak of blue appeared; it widened; the wind seemed to be dying away in a shriek¬ing moan as of defeat. The thunder was not so loud and of a sudden the sun popped out of hiding. The birds came twitting out and never more beautiful songs were sung. The prairie dogs came out looking around. One little dog came out of a hole nearby and I could almost see the joy in his eyes but the hawk soaring around suddenly dived down on him and the hawk too was happy, al-though I did feel sorry for the prairie dog. That night going back to camp i felt as youthful and happy, as ever mortal felt. I felt as though I had been bettered, been nearer my Creator and was to do more in this world for everyone., —Orval Winkler. —O-H-S— THANKSGIVING (With apologies to Walt Mason) Thanksgiving morn and all is fine, the people sense1 a joyous time, and gather here and gather there, it real¬ly does not matter where, excepting that where ere it be, the one that asked them there shall see, that everything is fine and good and people act as they should; especially w7hen sitting at a table loaded down with fat old gobblers and chickens too, and maybe cabbage in a stew7, so when the feast comes to an end, they still can think enough to send, a little of the good things left, to some perhaps who were bereft of any chance to gather near to others that they hold so dear; and thanks to friends and thanks to God pour forth again just as they should. —Ruth Prout. THANKSGIVING So many things to thank thee for, Lord of the vast domain— For snow capped peaks and running streams That feed the thirsty plain, For all the harvests of the fall, Wrought by the sun and rain. When winter comes with icy blast And whistles 'round the door, When Jack Frost his magic works That we may skate once more, I thank thee for the broad fire-place, Where fire-brands burn and roar. When violets peep and bull-frogs croak, And robin's on the. wing, When life is breaking out anew In every living thing, When all the world is filled with hope, I thank thee for the Spring. The sweet, heart-breaking loveliness Of Summer gliding by; The scent of flowers and new mown hay, The breezes gentle sigh; These fill my heart with thankfulness, As fast the moments fly. So many things to thank thee for: Food for the body's need, For health that gives us strength to do The work thou hast decreed; For home and friends and native land I thank Thee Lord, indeed. —Lucile Bryant. —O-H-S— LEAVES OF YESTERDAY Where are the leaves of yesterday? The lovely leaves that crowned the May, Leaves that were so merry and green and gay, Whispering and dancing all the day? ANSWER! Frosts that have turned them brown, Answer! Winds that have hurled them down, Answer! Broks that have born them away, Where are the leaves of yesterday? W'here are the leaves of yesterday? Leaves that were lovenly, but could not stay, Dancing and whispering through the light, That thing the homes of the birds at night. ANSWER; Time with the reaping hook, Answer! Fate with frowning look. Where is the song and mood of May, And where are the leaves of yester¬day? —Frances Gillette. V/HO KNOWS? I wonder, has it ever occurred to any one wdiy the million and one little fire-flies dance and sparkle so merrily on a November night? Who knows? Perhaps the golden moon serene in all her glory, shining upon the earth washes to express her joy and gives luster to the fire-flies by re¬flecting upon them her beams. Then the fairy fire-flies, as if inspired by the warm greeting of their goodness, assemble and proceed to entertain her, royally. Now how the stars twinkle brighter 1 and brighter as they watch the dance. Here and there around the trees, now on the rose-bud as if stopping to breathe and now on the pure white lily, flit the fire-flies. Now higher and higher in numbers they soar. Is that a fairy circle they are form¬ing? Now swiftly and silently they move to the strains of invisible ' musicans. Hark! Is that a signal? Through the silent and fragrant night comes a sweet, clear sound. It is a little bird announcing the approach of day and the awakening of man. As if by magic, the fire-flies dis¬appear, but whither? Dawn has come. The grey heavens are fast becoming orange, and now on the eastern horizon clouds tinged daintily with rose and gold herald the coming of the Sun-God. I wonder, can these wonderful colors be the little fire-flies of the night before? Who knows? —Fannie Greenband. What Have You To Be Thankful For? —O-H-S— Beans S.: "What is residue?" Marcus M.: "If I flunked this year I would be the residue of the class of '23. PRINTING FOR ALL OCCASIONS At DEE Practical printer LUNCHES McKAY'S SCHOOL SUPPLIES Sperry Products in every home Sperry Flour SINCE 1852