Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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Flower Stories “WISTARIA (A Japanese Fantasy.) Sleep little piget » an I fold your wings,- Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Sleep to the singing oi mother bird swinging. Swinging the nest where her little one li A-a-ah. He sleep. He v r’ happy now. Sleep, Otakara, sleep. The dainty little wisp of a mother leaned lovingly over the unconscious child and caressed his soft brown check a delicately as the south wind kissed the cherry blossoms outside. “Away out yonder I see a star,— Silvery star with a tinkling song; To the soft dew falling. I hear it calling. Calling and tinkling the night along. A-a-ah, he mos beau'ful star, Otakara. Mebc you see him in your dream. Dream ver' hard, t )takara. See the robin how he mak he nest an' speak to he mate, lie ver happy, Otakara. An we - we ver’ happy too.” In through the window a nioonbcun comes.— Little gold moonbeam with misty wings; All silently creeping it asks. ‘Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings? I IF AXDOX was lighted hut the mother rose anti extinguished it. She drew the shoji and lay dow n on her strange bed that he. too, might dream of the silver star. Still was the night, except for the sighs of a perfumed breeze. At the foot of the hill there were lighted lanterns, all daintily painted in w ist iria and there were many nourishes of parasols of the same d sign bv lavender-gowned Geisha girls who added to the gaiety with their dancing. There was much merry-making at the consulate tonight, celebrating the ar rival of a girl from over the sea. The silver beams of the moon glimmered across the bay and the great black hulk of a steamer rose in sharp outline against theVhmdless horizon. And there was light on the clusters of bushes that bordered the narrow path on the side «»f the hill and on the single robin nest in the cherry tree. The wistaria lanterns continued to burn and so did the silver star while the little lantern-maker in her nest on the hill sang her lullaby. 18

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The Misuse and Abuse of Modern English Sonic one lias -aid that the English language E the most expressive, the most beautiful of the modern languages; yet how sadly di.-t aud it is to-day. T his E especially true in schools, the places where tut purest English should he spoken. liy girls, the most gushing expressions arc used. Listen, some day, to a conversation on the car. or in the school halls, and you will hear, 1 am simply crazy about it. I low pc le tly dread til« r aw id. 1 ,11st ;.dore that.' ' Lis.eir aiigel-iace.” After a series of such expressions, one might advisedly explain '‘how dreadful, for such expressions arc dreadful, coming as they do. from some of the most representative people in school. If we, when we are talking in such a manner, could only hear ourselves as others hear us. we would sure • ly cease to speak in such an incorrect ami exaggerated way. Hut girls are, by no means, the only ones who misuse and abuse our language. The tendency is still more pronounced among the boys. Have you ever heard such remarks as these being made by an. apparently, perfect gentleman: Bully. Gee! Whiz!” “1 get cher. Steve. “'l ake it from muh. let the hook. Believe me.” Good-night! ? Such speech as this is slowly but surely degrading our language, this most wonderful language, yet we stand passively b and allow it to be butclK ered by thoughtless hoys and girls. Good, clean, athletic slang is not so bad, but sttcli expressions as I have enumerated, and which arc very prevalent among most pupils, do not reflect the cultured homes from which most of the users come. They suggest that type of shop-girl, who, by habitual carelessness in manner and speech, has come to be recognized as a class w hich is displeasing, to say the least, to the most of us. Have you not heard such expressions as those I have named used by the careless girl of the department store: At the present day it is almost impossible for a lady, while shopping to avoid being addressed as Honey, Dear. nr Child ': such terms should be carefully used. On the other hand, the boys or young men. have surely heard their Bullies.” and Gee! Whizes. employed by the street urchin. Bv the English we use. wo shall be judged. By the language which some of us use we are not only lowering ourselves in the estimation of outsiders but arc gradually decreasing our own store of self-respect. With the use of so much slang we are irreparably injuring our vocabularies. In a few more years wc will not he able to express a single thought without the aid of slang. It is w'C of the High School who have the opportunity of improving these conditions. We are the men and women of to-morrow. Wo shall fix the standard for our citv. What will it he? LUCIE E. BUG I N N. T3.

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li was a glorious morn in Japan. Elizabeth Downclle rose early and stepped out into the dewy freshness of an Oriental day so that she might appreciate more deeply the beauties of this foreign land. The night before had been so strange that it seemed almost a dream. And it was all so beautiful— so gloriously, wonderfully beautiful. Even now the vision of lavender kimonos and wistaria parasols rose before her charmed eyes. She marveled at the abundance of low, graceful bunches of lavender blossoms and felt that she had been transported into a veritable fairyland. She took occasion at the breakfast table to mention the profuseness of wistaria. ‘ I knew you would like it. dear, replied her sister-in-law. “There’s a story connected with it all. You’ll love that too, Elizabeth. “And when will you tell this romance to me? 1 presume it is romantic, tor it seems to me that everything in Japan must be. “It is. Hut 1 shall not tell the story at all. There is a little widow in that house on the hill—you can see it from the window. She is the daintiest piece of Japanese womanhood imaginable. Go up there today. I told her you were coming and site is anxious to know you. Perhaps you will become such friends that she herself will tell you her story. Accordingly it was quite early that Elizabeth set out for the house on the hill. hat a picture the little widow made beneath her cherry tree! Near her the boy was playing and she was talking t » him softly in Japanese. She was painting. Around her were lanterns and parasols but they were not of the dainty lavender tints for as yet each waited its turn to come under the magic hand that turned it into a glowing mass of wistaria. Elizabeth could not speak Japanese but she knew the language of the heart, so pausing before the little figure she smiled. That was all. To her surprise the conversation was immediately opened in halting English which was nevertheless the most charming she had ever heard, for the words were accompanied with the sweetest of answering smiles. ‘‘You lady from over the sea? You com’ see Otakara an’ me. Speak for lady, Otakara. And she turned to the child who played beside her. He was quite a baby so he could not put his reply into words but he too smiled and gurgled happily. Delighted. Elizabeth stooped down to pick him up. “Why, his eyes are blue!” Vacs—purple, lik unto wisteeria. He ladder com’ from vour country— way ofT. “America? “Vacs,—Amer-ceka. An he lofc Japan. He artecste—tnak’ ver’ pretty picture. He teach me thees—an'-an’ thees—” She touched the gaily colored papers at her side and swung a parasol behind her. It made a charming background for her delicately flushed face. She half smiled, half sighed. Me an’ Otakara. we ver’ happy. We live lik that. We paint an’ sell thees. We ver' much artecste. me an Otakara.” Oh. cried the girl impulsively. “I shall buy so many—so many.” “A-a-ah how that is nizc.” Elizabeth liked to hear her say the Japanese names. His name is pretty. And yours, what is it?” Multijuga, it mean wis-tecr-ia. Otakara mean treasure ship.” Wistaria. How beautiful! And do you know, it is just like you.” 19