Anaheim Union High School - Colonist Yearbook (Anaheim, CA)

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went into the chest when Hnished. There were lovely summer dresses and mar- velous hats, for Celeste's slender fingers worked with incredible swiftness. The spider orchids told the flowers that Celeste would soon be a bride. And Celeste herself was not long in whispering to the flowers the wonderful news. But soon the stream of letters ceased to come. and Celeste with anxious face paced the garden paths. The flowers hovered near in an effort to comfort her, but she did not seem to heed their whispered words of cheer, until at last they drew back, repulsed for the first time in their fragrant lives. Years slipped by and we find Celeste in the same sweet garden, though she herself has grown old her care-free youth gone forever. Her eyes have faded, her hair is white and her hand trembles as she reaches for the red rose. She turns away, her eyes fixed dreamily on the far horizon. Perhaps she is thinking of an unmarked grave-the flowers do not know. The Elder, as in years gone by, voiced the knowledge of the garden, Celeste, still loves and is loved.', And Celeste smiledffor she understood the language of the flowers. Lois REES. MY PARADISE A place which I shall always think of as mine, was discovered to me during a recent vacation in the mountains. During my visit, there had been one continual round of merriment all through the day and half the night. But as Nature so willed it, several forest fires broke out in the nearby woods, and every young man available set out to fight fires, consequently stopping our fun, somewhat, in the camp. Being unusually lonesome one afternoon I set out for a walk, and, Finding no one to fit into my extraordinary mood, I continued by myself. Somehow, as I strolled along the dusty road, I began to wonder what the folks down home were doing, where every one was and if they missed me as much as I did them. This thought grew on me until I had to find some place, somewhere, that would give me a view of the valley and home. And some two miles away from the cabin I found just such a place. The trail to this particular spot was somewhat misleading, since it led through a small valley and up over a peak that had been ravaged by a mountain's worst enemy, fire. And so, on rounding a point, I came wholly unaware, onto the most beautiful, awe-inspiring scene I had ever witnessed. Away off inthe distance, the golden sun, in a halo of glory, was just sinking to rest. The valley went on for miles until it, too, vanished with the sun. Some- where, away out there was homesand mother. As the last rays of the sun faded, a stillness, so intense and yet so comforting, crept around me that my very soul responded to my pent up feelings. How long I stood there I do not know, until tiny starry-like lights peeped out one by one in the valley. A gentle breeze sprung up, wakening me from my reverie enough to notice my nearby surroundings. Two feet in front of me was space for I found myself seated on the edge of a precipice made up entirely of huge boulders. Some two hundred feet directly below me lights were appearing in our neighboring camp, casting a somewhat mysterious air over the majestic pines behind which a silvery fall was playing at hide and seek. LEORA HEALTON. i251

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today trying to undermine the government. The nation will never be rid of cults who try to influence the people to overthrow the laws, but the upright American citizen, with head erect, will defend his country and the laws which have given him the right of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. The Constitution must be left unpolluted to shine on in deathless splendor, the light of law. This will be the heritage of the coming generations on to eternity. THE LANGUAGE OF THE FLOWERS How few people are natural enough to understand the language of the flow- ers. And yet, there is a language-a language that is vital, alive-and there are some who understand. Celeste stood in the garden. She wore no hat and ber hair shimmered like gold in the sunshine. She was simply dressed, and she was beautiful, with the beauty of a flower that blooms, then fades. For, like the flower, she is kept alive only by bright sunshine and happiness. Under care and sorrow she would wither and fade. Celeste looked around, the love of flowers reflected on her face. She caressed a flower tenderly with her lips, her eyes straying dreamily toward the far horizon. The elder bent swiftly toward the mayflower, and whispered compassionately, Celeste loves and is loved. The mayflower nodded, as did all the brothers and sisters, and the velvet petals of the red rose became softer and more beautiful as they heard. The red rose told the honeysuckle, and the honeysuckle the forget-me-not, until the whole garden reflected the mood of the red rose. Celeste turned, picked a blue violet, and smiled. The flowers nodded wisely for they understood the choice. It was faithfulness. She walked swiftly toward the house and her slender flgure soon vanished. lfVithout her the garden seemed desolate and forsaken and the flowers whispered forlornly among themselves. The China Astor alone seemed unchanged, and her tiny voice from the pure depths of her heart quieted them all. The flowers knew of the fate of the violet. lt had gone its way sealed in a letter that did not reach its destination for many days. Celeste waited for an answer. It did not come for a long time, and the flow- ers were puzzled at the mysterious something in the air, and then it came. The letter must have made Celeste happy, for she picked the everlasting and the white clover, and together they followed the violet. ' But the flower had seen a milfoil slip from the letter, also, Celeste had picked it up, crying a little as she did so. lt meant but one thing to the flowers and her- self, and that was war. Days passed, and the flowers in the garden bloomed more abundantly than they had in years. Under Celeste's loving care the weeds were banished, the vines trimmed, the garden cleared, and the whole garden was radiant with beauty. In Celeste's room was a chest. It was large and roomy, and mysterious. When she was not working in the garden she was sewing on dainty things that always l24l

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SAMMY'S SWAN SONG My dearf' said Mrs. jones, as her husband appeared one evening, Hburglars broke into the Smith's house last night and carried off all their silverware and most of Mrs. Smith's jewelry, including her engagement ring. Oh-er-is Mrs, Smith engaged P returned Mr. Jones vaguely. I-Ingaged? You know perfectly well she has had a husband for ten years. Doesn't an engagement ring remain an engagement ring ?'l VVhy, I suppose so. I was thinking of something else. You usually are, Henry dear. Do you realize that it's the seventh burglary on this street during the past month P Seven in a month, said Mr, jones, musingly. Still, that may be only normal, or even below the average. Have you looked it up ?'i Mrs. Jones ignored this and contented herself with the observation that the scenes of crime were getting altogether too close, adding, I think, Henry, you should have a burglar alarm put in without delay. Have we much to losef' he asked, as if he were a burglary insurance agent who had never entered the house before. VVe probably have less to lose than any other family on the street, returned the wife of his bosom, with a fine edge on her voice. Nevertheless, we have con- siderable solid silverg and there is also my jewelry, which I don't care to lose. You must have had it before you were married, returned Mr. jones, in a weak attempt to take the sting out of her last remark. Several thoughts came into Mrs. Jones' mind, but all she said was, NVill you order a burglar alarm on your way to the station in the morning F Can't promise that exactly. I've missed the train two mornings as it is. l've got to get an alarm clock. The next evening Mr. jones returned a half hour earlier than usual and was in the library in pursuit of something in the encyclopedia, before his wife was aware of his presence. Coming through the hall she saw a package on the table from which proceeded a loud ticking. The lady was rather vague as to the form which burglar alarms assume, and her hopes were raised. Is that the burglar alarm on the hall 'table ? she asked. It is not,', replied her husband. You don't bring home a burglar alarm in your pocket like a new tooth brush. That's my new alarm clock. I missed that train again this morning. I got that clock as a bargain at Goldstein's second-hand store. You should hear it. She did. The uproar which came from the hall was something in the nature of the noise of an ambulance gong. Mr. Jones dropper his book and rushed to the hall. Here he tore the wrappings from the package and dragged out a large and battered nickel clock, still in a state of eruption. His efforts to shut it off failed, and he hnally put it on the Hoor and covered it with sofa pillows. Even after Mr. Jones had removed the pillows and stood it on the mantle, it ripped out two o rthree startled rattle-te-bangs. Some alarm l cried the man, in admiration. Goldstein said it was made for a man who was slightly deaf, and that the man never once missed his train in ten years. I believe it, agreed Mrs. Jones coldly. I've named it 'Sammyf Bet you 'Sammy'll' keep me from missing those trains, continued M rJ.ones. l26l