Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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peace with the Mikado and accept the Christian religion in thy province. Lastly, tonight at the ' Feast of the Hundred Visitors I would have thy daughter in marriage. Quick, worthy prince ; life or death, which is it ? ' X ryS m ' rirvm Assam sprang noiselessly between the two. O father, Prince Nagoli, 1 would have it so, for he is my betrothed. Silently the moon shines on the ruined shrines of Goddess Kwannon. No noise of tramping soldiers nor of clashing arms disturbs the peace of the red bamboo forest. In the great hall of Nagoli ' s palace ther e is the sound of revelry. Cries of Samurai, Kwanni and Old Japan forever ! break the stillness of the night outside. Setsu, in the shinjio among the moon flowers, patiently awaits the coming of her mistress, Assani. Little does she think that the beautiful Japanese girl is Assani no longer, but Princess Konn of the faithful Samurai. Carl Adam, ' 06. Eng. VII. ?py A Day of Spring DAY of Spring is here. With joy it thrills. The sunshine gleams, the morning seems to smile, The trees, all pink and white, sway on the hills, And far and near the birds call all the while. This fragrant day we read from Tennyson, And with the happy lotus-eaters stray ; Rejoice with Lancelot o ' er glories won. Oh ! it is thus because our hearts are gay. A long, long day is done and darkness falls. The sky is dark ; the winds strange memories bring, And in the world cold duty calls and calls. The birds that sang that joyful day forget to sing, On such a night we dare not read from books; The songs of bards are discord to our ears, We hear not words that sound like laughing brooks. ' Tis thus, because our hearts are filled with fears. Dorothea Gilray, ' 06. Eng. VII. tkCL q f .

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be instrumental in the downfall of her father ' s house. How could he do it ? And yet he must, for was he not of the Samurai, who for a thousand years had never failed the Mikado ? In such a frame of mind Korin proceeded to the Red Maple Gardens of Nagoli. He cautiously approached their trysting place, a shinjio among the moon flowers. Setsu, Assam ' s maid, was there, but the little Japanese princess was not. For the first time she had failed him. She had accompanied her father to the red bamboo forest, so Setsu said. All the pride of his long line of Samurai ancestry asserted itself. He would report the night review of the Kwannian soldiers, would enter the guarded palace and be present at the Feast of a Hundred Visitors . Thus he planned the downfall of Nagoli and his people, all because of the unfaithfulness of Assani. Firmly determined in his resolve, Prince Korin hurriedly left the gardens and hastened to the Red Bamboo Forest to the ruined shrine of Kwannon. He had not proceeded far when he saw long files of marching soldiers, by the glare of their lighted torches. He cautiously entered a bamboo grove near the ruined shrine. Night fires gleamed fantastically and threw weird shadows over the silent, marching soldiers. The brightness of the fire at first temporarily blinded the watching Samurai. Then becom- ing accustomed to the strange play of the firelight he observed three silent figures stand- ing near the ruined altar. The foremost of the three was Nagoli, erect and handsome, with his eyes fixed on the silent marchers. Zakkuri, the war minister, was the second. The third was the lovely Assani. She leaned against the stones of the once beautiful temple of Kwannon, but her attitude expressed indifference to her surroundings. Ever and anon she raised her lovely face, pale and listless in the fitful firelight. He winced instinctively when he thought of his treacherous plans to deceive her people. The lovely face in the firelight moved him strangely. A fierce short struggle between his love and the honor of the Samurai battled within him. In the end, it was the same old story. Since the days of the gods Water flows the same, Love goes the same. Korin decided. He would lose both or win both. With a swift bound he landed squarely in front of Nagoli and placed his sword over the heart of the Japanese prince, uttering at the same time the low dread call of the Samurai, Old Japan and Samur. forever. Assani started and gazed bewildered at the Samurai prince. Zakkuri shuddered and fell fear-stricken in a heap. Nagoli alone moved not. The tramping of the silent soldiers continued. Slowly the handsome Nagoli spoke, You are indeed bold, Samurai! The answer came quickly, Not so, noble prince. One thrust and thou art in the land of souls, one bound and I am gone through this grove to his imperial majesty Tori to report that the leader of the Kwannians is dead. Be sensible, worthy prince, dis- §

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Ni iteele F T. C. Steele ' s many beautiful paintings, the ones I like best are: Wood Interior, After the Storm, Shelburn Meadows at Noonday, and The Sycamores. Wood Interior shows different hues of green, and when looking down the little path which is lost in a thick undergrowth one cs almost imagine he feels, the soft, cool breezes, and hears the low, melan- choly murmurs so characteristic of the wood-land. After the Storm is composition of bright colors which are particularly pleasing, as they have th freshness that is usually seen after a storm. A farm house surrounded by trees is in the left of the picture, while vast fields roll away to the horizon, on the right. The sky is a mass of heaving, tumbling, gray clouds, which show wha the fury of the elements had been. The painting of The Shelburn Meadows at Noonday is well named. There is not a cloud in the sky, only an endless stretch of blue. The whole atmosphere is that of a typical midsummer noon. Even the cattle standing under the elm tree seem to be immersed m the same listless, drowsy feeling. The Sycamores is a fine play of color. The clear blue of the water, the touches of red, with the brilliant lights and the shades of green, caused by the sun, is very harmonious. The queer brown and gray bark of the trees is well portrayed and the foliage is so dense that very little of the sky is seen. The soft, green grass with here and there a clump of crimson flowers, and a pretty little pool of water are quite pleasing. Helen Ensey, ' 08. E ng. IV. Another Emmy Lou SHE is a typical Emmy Lou, endowed with her true heart, and she is a bit of a coquette. She is especially elated when she succeeds in doing some little Wick edness unobserved. Just the other day, when Emmy Lou ' s teacher was off duty something wicked crept into Emmy Lou ' s little soul and she determined to race wii a comrade to a recitation. She chose a devious path, wound in and out among seats and desks, causing no end of commotion. Her heart quivered when she saw her dearly beloved ' s pink hair-ribbon flutter as its owner neared the goal. Emmy Lou hurried with all her might, but whose heavy hurried steps were coming behind her? Were they the teacher ' s ? Had she been caught again in disobedience ? Her tiny knees weakened ; she felt something in her hand ; she stopped short and looked with misty eyes upon — a package of chewing gum. She did not finish the race, — she looked back down the hall and beheld a small lad vanishing hastily through a door-way. That was enough ! — all her little heart could endure. Why did he do it ? But she guessed why. The chewing gum was to set aright the serious discord of two hearts. I told Emmy Lou that 1 thought chewing gum made a very good seal for such a bond of friendship. Dorothea L. Gilray, ' 06. Eng. VII.