Madera Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Madera, CA)

Page 20 text:

HOROSCOPE Name Grace Crow Marie Brown Everett Honeycutt Edith How Ruby Russell Stella Turk Elizabeth Washington Helen Whiting Helen Wilkinson | Appearance Spunky Sedate Cute Skinny Jolly Vivacious | Self Satisfied Kiddish Independent | Favorite Expression | | “Oh, pshaw’’ “Oh, glory” “Pil bean you” |‘Bless my soul and body” “Great Caesar’s ghost” | “By criminy”’ | “Oh, giminy’’ | | “Good-night”’ | “Oh, Yes- -” Noted For Late Hours Knowledge in Latin Spooning in Halls Teacher’s Pet Talking Arguing Bluffing Pink Cheeks Flirting Nickname Highest Ideal Snae To be like Miss ‘ Millward Wee-wee | Librarian ss President of the Honey Us S: Ikey | To Specialize in English Rubbish To Learn to Dance Turkey She Doesn't Know - To Own An Betina 3 Automobile “Toddy”’ Musician “Wilkie” Teaching French Destiny Bungalow For Two Private Secretary President I. W. W. Help Make Concrete Book Agent Votaress Preacher’s Wife To Live in Oregon Chorus Girl What the Poet Says “Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax Her cheeks like the dawn of day.” “She is a maid of artless grace, Gentle in form and fair of face.”’ “Blaze with your serried columns, | I will not bend the knee.” “In her heart the dew of v-uth, On her lips the smile of truth.” “Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity.”’ “Her eager heart within her eyes Was all alight with youth and joy.” “Rose and lily on her cheek that shifting play, Voice beloved, whispering like the wind of May.” “O thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.”’ “With coquettish charms arrayed, Laughing eyes and fugitive.”

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Back to the dear old home town I was carried, Only to be knocked off my feet in surprise. For Miss Edith How had long since been married. To one of Madera’s prominent cement guys. From there I was whirled to a foreign land. And seated in a famous artist’s studio. She stood before the canvas, easel in hand. And looked for the world like Grace Crow. Next it was a scene in England, And a parade for “the Women who Work” At the head of the procession, in front of the band, Was our new member, Miss Stella Turk. From there I visited a logging camp. And, to my amazement, I found myself head cook; But. at that moment, I was awakened by a cramp, And found that IT had my feet in the brook.

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Ohe Price may God biess you and keep you always!” The voice was choked with sobs, but the bowed reartbroken figure was determined not to give way until she was face to face with silence, the gracious queen who nows both joy and sorrow and gives to both her greatest alm, Peace; and so the lonely widow gave her boy a last -arewell and, with it, gave to her country the only gift she vad, her son ! “My boy! my boy! The lad. for be was only a boy yet, hesitated for a mo- nent: then, shouldering his musket, he turned away, fur- ively brushing his coatsleeve across his eves. He walked or swiftly, not trusting himself to look back even once un- til he came to the summit of the mountain and saw be- Fove him the path that led—he knew not where. For it micht be Life and—it might be Death! There he paused and looked a last silent farewell to his old home. The sun was just rising and seemed the gate to Paradise as it flooded the little valley with its golden splendor. The little crystal streams running ever on. through soft fields and meadows, unmindful of the destinies of men, were like bands of silver on waves of emerald. In their midst stood a little log cabin covered with roses that clambered over the porch, and even onto the roof. His home! On the step was his mother, seeming so tiny, so pitifully fragile. and watching him with a face that, could he but have seen it. would have wrung his very soul, for it was the terrible agony, the heartbreaking look of a mother who watches her son walk on to probable Death, while she stands back. alone, unable to help. The boy’s eyes filled and, turming quickly, he went on. eraye and sorrowful for a while but gradually forgetting 19 ‘the future; for such is the wisdom ink only of the great war in which a part; he seemed to see the low p; he could almost hear the roar ighing of horses and the terse com- all and dreaming only o of youth. He could th he was so soon to have white tents of the cam of the musketry, the ne mands shouted by anxious officers. vim through tear- ily a speck in the distance But not so his mother! She watched dimmed eyes until he became o that slowly faded from view. Then she went into the cabin, that now seemed so pitifully forlorn, her bent should- ers shaking with sobs, while tears coursed down her thin furrowed cheeks. She pulled a little black hair cloth trunk out of a corner, opened it and took out a tiny bundle, faded, and yellowed with age. Sitting down, she opened it, and out fell a golden curl of hair that she caught up pas- sionately and kissed again and again. As she did so, the present seemed to fade and vanish with sorrow as a rose- leaf crumbles with age, and she saw again her baby boy be- fore her. She saw the sturdy little figure with its golden curls and large appealing brown eyes come nearer and nearer, until the baby lips seemed to say, “JT Jove you, muver, I love you.” She clasped it to her but it vanished and in its stead was an older boy, different and yet the same. The golden curls were gone and in their stead was soft brown hair; the baby grace, too, had left, and the lad seemed strangely awkward and clumsy. But the eyes were the same appeal- ing brown ones, and the mouth, finely cut and determined, even then still framed the words, “T love you, mater, T lave you.”