Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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what mattered it all now? Their lives of suffering would soon be over and their soults would know no pain. The day dragged on. The Juggernaut progressed slowly, but a sultry gust occasionally brought them the wild shouting that heralded the demon’s approach. When at last the moving temple came within sight and the deafening clamor of the mad multitude arose, toiling as they sang, praying as they pulled, dragging their burden inch by inch, another vulture flew to Rudraya, bowed in the dust, circled above her head and soared up, up in the heavens. Again Rudraya arose and prayed, and again fell upon the earth insensible beside the other outcasts. As the night fell the bodies of the faithful paved the road of Sidra. Side by side lay the white-haired Rudraya and her outcast son, Rajanava. Their souls lay at rest with Brahma. I h,ad sat on a hill o’erlooking a vale, My hands clasped ’round my knees; In my primer I’d read my first fairy tale, I had mastered my ABC’s. In my hand was a pencil, in my lap lay a pad, On the paper stretched a straggly line; A vision I s,aw, a dream I had — ’Twas of a land that I thought to be mine. There were Goblins’ caves where cross witches dwell, There ran rivers the color of gold; There were fairies and sprites for each vale and each dell, And knights of the days of old. There were voices which sang and thunder that rolled, And stood mystery castles of stone; ’Twas a wonderful story my third primer told; And to think that it all was my own! But now it is past ,and the years have slipped by, And I am leaving my boyhood days; Without faltering step I’ll soon have to try The world and its dallying ways. So I thought I’d just try to remember once more When I sat on that hill o’er the vale, And lived as I dreamed in the good days of yore, When I finished my first fairy tale. —Don I. Walker, ’20.

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the loss of her child. Night and day she prayed that her son might return to her, so that at least they could die together. The yearning in her heart never ceased. As the dull days passed her husband tired of his bargain, for his marriage had made his life miserable. Rudraya lived in hopes. Her life was an eternal fore¬ thought of her future life, her life in heaven with the child she had loved. Her only hope was that they—she and her child— could die together. She trusted that Brahma had saved him and that she could see him once more in his earthly shape. So passed the monotonous time away in prayer and supplication, day after day, year after year. In the quiet village of Sidra the white-haired Rudraya sat motionless, with her black eyes fixed upon the grave of her hus¬ band. There was no prayer, no weeping. The villagers passed her silently and shook their heads. They wondered that she did not weep, but the lonely Rudraya only stared in silence. The sun sank low; the night crept on and blotted out the crimson sun. The stars shone brightly; then the moon rose. Through it all the solitary one kept her vigil. Not a sound is¬ sued from the parched lips, not a tear fell from the glazed eyes. Thus she sat through the next day—all during the parching heat of the merciless sun—and again into the night. Upon the next night the moon rose full and round, and the air was warm and sweet. The eyes of Rudraya, fixed upon the silent grave, moved not. The soft wind rustled her garments. The dead si¬ lence fell like a pall upon the world. When all was calm there broke into the night a weird screech and heavy flapping of wings. A bird of prey circled above Rud¬ raya ’s head, and then, with another hoarse screech, soared up into the heavens and was swallowed by the soft, dull sky. The lonely one arose, and, praying, crossed her hands upon her breast, then fell face forward upon the grave. A scorching day followed. The vultures were now thick in the sky, preceding and hovering about the Car of Juggernaut. Their prey was plentiful. Their approach was a signal to the sinful. Already the fanatics were grovelling in the dust, wait¬ ing for the great car to crush their mortal bodies to atoms and set their souls free to heaven. Among these was Rudraya. Her duty performed, she merely waited. Beside her kneeled an Un¬ known—an outcast like herself. But their hearts were full—

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®{£ j torg of ro By LEE WALKER (Fourth Award.) HE GREAT shining orb of the sun hung its last rays over Sonoma Mountain, and the padres at Mission Sonoma welcomed with relief the long twilight and the banks of cool fog that settled silently in from the bay. All the hills were brown and dirty and the air even tasted dusty, and the friars longed for the autumn rains, which would make the verdure grow quickly green. The long piazza was cool now and the day was nearly done, when a man on a jaded horse rode up to the mission gates and was promptly received by the hospitable monks. When he had removed the signs of travel and had dined, he joined the others on the porch and introduced himeslf as Pedro Villa, from the town of Yerba Buena. In that land of little travel news spread slowly, and it w 7 as usually gained by listening to some traveler who recompensed his hosts for his entertainment by telling them all the news. The moon by this time was up and casting its light on the mountains that guarded “The Valley of the Moon.” The monks had had no recent company, and, hungry for news, plied their guest with many questions, which he answered as best he could. This story he told just before retiring, when the moon was high in the heavens and the crickets had ceased to chirrup. It was the story of old Mendez, a story that had made him the laughing stock of California. Old Mendez, unlike his sons, who would lose their last “cen¬ tavo” on a cock fight, was the biggest tightwad in California. He was so tight that he even kept a herd of milk cows and sold milk, and selling milk in those days was looked upon as fit only for Indiars and Gringoes. One day as Mendez was leisurely awakening from his si¬ esta a Yankee skipper was announced to him, who wanted three hundred hides at an early date—in fact, too early to enable Mendez to go inland for his cattle. However, he jumped at the alluring figure, hoping to get the hides by hook or crook,, and ransacked his brain for means of procuring the hides, for his cattle within reach were lacking by twenty. A happy thought struck him. He would resort to the sim-