Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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The “Azalea” On the mossy banks of the gurgling brook, In the forest’s leafy shade. With delicate tints of pink and white Reflecting the gleaming shafts of light As they pass through the forest’s solemn height. The Azalea’s home is made. It is jeweled with dew in the rosy dawn. When the air is crisp and cool; And it seems that the song from the thrush ' s throat Has woven within its woodland notes The sweet of Azalea blooms that floats Out over the crystal pool. —I. S., ’t 10

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Miss Adeline Hocking Miss Susan M. Gregory

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Little Boy Big Chief By IVY BURROUGHS First Prize W HY should he have looked down at that steep dark path again? He was such a tiny little boy that it always frightened him. Down the mountain it lead, gloomy pines on either side, and some¬ where in the distance were the hooting owls. Where did the path lead, and why did the owls hoot so loudly ? But mother had said that he must never, never fellow that steep trail down the mountain. So Little Boy sat down and pondered long and thoughtfully. Then it came to him. The man with the harsh voice who came yester¬ day and made mother cry, and whom she had called father, must live there. But who was he ? Little Boy knew. He was some sort of a goblin-man. So Little Boy glanced fearfully at the gloomy trail, hue kept far away from it. But why—Little Boy sat down on a stone to puzzle it all out— why, if that man were really a goblin-man, had mother called him ‘‘father”? But he must be one, he had made mother cry, and she was afraid of him, too, for she had gathered Little Boy so close to her and said: “My baby ! My little boy ! You shan ' t have him.” Then she had cried and cried, and the man had gone away without once deigning to look at Little Boy. But mother held him close all afternoon—it was hot, too, he remembered with a squirm— but mother had looked so sad Little Boy hadn’t had the heart to leave her. After awhile father had come home and he had been sent cut on the porch to play—it was nice and cool there—while mother and father talked earnestly. It was then mother had told him he must never, never go down that path. Even father had said. “No, Little Boy Big Chief, those are forbidden hunting grounds.” “Little Boy Big Chief”—that brought his thoughts back to himself. If he were really a big chief, why should any hunting grounds be forbidden him ? Surely a big chief could go anywhere. But when Little Boy neared the path it suddenly loomed up so dark and gloomy and seemed to lead right into the depths of the black unknown, that he turned and fled with all the swiftness of ii