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Page 48 text:
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THE SUN-DIAL ?i,556:955:5f5,:956i556.556.i355:5fS.i955,i556.fif5.556,595Y5te Riff ima rms man mn mm mn mv xml mn mu was mv mv was Nnq-K A ROOM Do you have a room,-one that you can call your very own? A place where you may find solitude,-may be alone, dream those golden dreams of fancy, look far off into the future, ponder over happenings of the day, wondering why you did this or that or failed to do some little thing? How unimportant it seemed at the time! How you suddenly realize it would have mattered-would have made someone else happy. Do you have a room-a place where you can express your own personality? The pictures, your choosing. Crisp curtains caught back to reveal the winding road- way or better, to see the flowers gaily blooming outside the window. A boudoir chair of chintzg its petticoat immaculate. Fluffy little pillows on the bed, all so un- conscious of the part they play in your life. Have you not lain awake nights, listening to the rain's stacatto-the wind's shrill howling through the trees which cast grotesque shadows on the wall, content within the warmth of your', room? A room's a haven of refuge-Shelter! Great women have often sought the seclusion of their rooms, shutting out the world and facing their greatest problems alone. Such was the practice of Louisa Alcott. She had her room, -loved it, sought it. Today it stands much as it was when the writer lived. The desk by the window, looking down upon the spacious grounds of Orchard House-The spray of purple Iris Amy painted for her beloved sister when jo was ill and Amy too poor to buy flowers- I like to think of my mind as a room in disorder and I had to put each thing in place, wrote Louisa Al- cott. She tried hard to dust out the cobwebs and put each little thing in its proper place but somehow cobwebs got in. 'Tm not a good housekeeper, Miss Alcott concluded. A room's an essential of girlhood. One cannot grow well without one. There must be space-space to live in, breathe in, think in. Life becomes too crowded! Yes, every girl should have a room to live in. SPRING There is a sudden stillness in the air. The gray sky is dotted with white flakes that float and drift to lie on the fast shrinking earth. Slowly, the ice forms, smooth- ing out the rugged edges of the land into soft roundness. The sun has grown dim and out of place in these cold, barren regions. The world is devoid of life, except for the snow birds that haunt the empty fields in great flocks. The drone of the wind rises with harsh bitterness, whipping around dark and gaunt trees. Winter has come and is ruling the barren lands with a relentless force. 40
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Page 47 text:
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THE SUN-DIAL .sf .95 .xx, A MY CATHEDRAL They say the place to find one's self is in God's House. There the Almighty may hear from the lips of His people all that weighs heavily on their hearts, there in the silence of the Cathedral with the organ-man may find peace! But I, who had sought peace in God's Great House and tried to gather all the Holiness present there around me, have somehow failed. Long I had prayed and fervently, yet my poor heart was choked and aching. I had not found peace there. Alone I did creep from that massive stone structure-God's House empty- handed. God was not there. I had not seen him, felt him. Heartsick and weary I fled the steps-the sanctuary that sheltered the worshipers-unhealed, denied! No longer did mind control body. I knew not whither I went. Blindly I tan- away from the crowded streets, the noise, the city-until my feet felt earth and grass and as suddenly the world changed-Behind hot pavements, pressing crowds, tumult, closeness of buildings, blackened spires, yes, of the cathedral-all, a part of the life I had lead-choking me to numbness. Even as I turned about, the better to find my going, hot breezes fanned my forehead, stifling me. They smelled of smoke and city streets. I shuddered, turning my back against it, facing an atmosphere filled with the sweetness of flowers-the coolness of dew. So did I continue to walk until finding that weariness of body had soothed weariness of soul, I stopped to rest and take notice of my surroundings. Around me trees-near, a brook-above me, azure sky-and under my feet, green moss. Then, as if a hand had torn away my veil of misery I wept and fell to my knees. Those trees, were they not the pipes of the organ,-the larger ones-and the smaller, those straight and close together, harp of the winds? The breezes, stirring clouds, whispering music yet caught by human fingers, and the brook, had it not the voice of the singers, acolytes with clear tenor? And the moss upon which I was kneeling, was it not the green carpet that so beautifies the church aisle-the blue sky dotted with Heecy whitness, was it not the great roof? And the fragrant odor of honeysuckle, holy incense? Yes, here, indeed, was God's House, the organ, the altar, space for kneeling. Leaving it I had but entered it again, God's House, with all its glory! Evident in every leaf, in every blade of grass, a church house more beautiful than man had built. Happiness unspeakable filled me. My heart was lightened-my burden lifted- God came down the aisle to touch my shoulder. RUTH HOLLAND Q L ,556 V3-366 0 va ima um Nw um Tim um nm -mx um nm ima was ww mv
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Page 49 text:
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THE SUN-DIAL X556 33, The long frozen days slowly drag by and as they near their end the snow be- comes slush and the river foams by carrying huge lumps of fast melting ice. The earth has turned to slacken her rigid joints and yield to thousands of rivulets that cover her surface. Then, there is a sweetness in the air and with a few warm rain drops the word of spring has come. Soon the boughs of the trees are dotted with tiny green bits of life and the newly arrived red-breasted bird waits to build a nest in their foliage. Tiny stems push through the soft coating of earth and turn their buds upward to catch the warmth of the sun that soon they may cover the plains with a profusion of blossoms. The sky has grown azure blue and the gentlest of breezes fan the dark clouds into Heecy whiteness. The population of flowers increases with the lengthening days. Their lovely blossoms carpet the Helds and fill the air with fragrance. It is a dif- ferent world, warm and happy and filled with new inspiring life: Spring is glorious! Her magical beauty rules Heaven and Earth with a gentle sweetness. RUTH HOLLAND WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS Christmas isn't for what you get, Said wee Jeanetteg It's for what you give Went on the mite. If Christ would talk to you to night, I think He'd say- That He wished us to- Keep it that way. I can give the baby a day of fun, I can take my plant to that poor lame boy, I can do Motherls errands-every one, And my old kite 1 can mend for Roy, When this busy day is done and I creep to bed, I'll remember I have no toys, But I'll have one thing-lots of joys Running through my tired head. CATHERINE DEEGAN 4l
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