Girls Preparatory School - Kaleidoscope Yearbook (Chattanooga, TN)

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- Q 1' '1 swam . . N .. me A tau WW b4 dk ' s?.:41L A- wtygyat A servant soon appeared in the doorway announcing that dinner was ready. Laughter and mirth reigned among the guests going into the dining room. Kathie, her loveliest in line white satin trimmed in a mass of crinoline ruflles, pure white jasmine in her dark hair, was escorted by 'l'om Crimmins, but she paid little attention to this handsome lad Her eves kept seeking, among the throng, another face, that ol David Blake-but she looked in vain: David was not there. Are you expecting someone? asked her beau. Ah, no, 'l'om, replied Kathie with a sweet girlish smile, how have you been lately? just line, thank you, Miss Kathie-Miss Kathie, you aren't even listening. Please excuse me, 'l'oml l'm afraid I didn't hear you. Thus the conversation continued throughout the meal. Poor Tom tried his best to touch upon some subject that might hold his lady's interest, but he strove in vain. Kathie politely dismissed herself front her escort after dinner and wandered in and out among the crowd. Suddenly she looked around and saw David Blake stride toward her. I-le was a tall lad of twenty, well built and muscular. Kathie, I must talk to you, whispered David with anxious voice. YVhat is it, David? I can't speak here. Conte outside with nie. There is no time to lose. Taking Kathie by the hand, David led her outside where they could be alone. To be brief, he said, my father died suddenly in England, and I must sail immediately to settle his affairs. Oh, David, must you go now? she said pleadingly, l may never see you again. You will see me again, darling, I will come back. In the meantime, Kathie, wear this locket, and when you look at it, remember that I will come back to you If you still love me come h 1 . . , . e-e , at this tnne every year, when the scent ol jasmine is heavy on the air, and even the salt breeze smells of spring. Some day you will find me waiting-this I promise you. David lifted Kathie's face to his own and kissed her tenderly. XVhen you come back some day, l'll be waiting for you here, whispered Kathie. After David departed Kathie, with tears in her eyes, felt for the tiny locket that David had fastened around her throat. It was gone! Kneeling on the beach, she felt for her cherished possession. lt was lost to her forever in the sands of Point Henry. David sailed for England the next day. just then I awoke from my dreams. Unable to go back to sleep, I hastily put on my clothes, and again I wandered to the beach. 'l'here not far away I saw the form of a woman, radiant in the beautiful moonlight. She was small of stature. and her dark tresses fell lightly about her shoulders. As I neared the place where she stood, she looked at me as if searching for some lost treasure. lhen suddenly through the warm spring air came her voice. Davidl she cried, running toward me. David you've come back! Then as I held her in my arms, l remembered-I remembered everything! FINIS -Blanche Dodds, '-14. i567 sf' Sak . ss:f2-t+'fa- Gigs 1,1 s 'B -th Y t tif

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wif? l h ' It eivfriff .egg , wif 'W' S?--ML 5 Ws!6..wL The Lost Locket The night was a warm, sultry one, the moon's shimmering reflection on the ocean cast an eerie light around me as I strolled along the sandy beach at the desolate Point Henry. I had come to this spot to spend a few days of rest from the turbulent city life of the l890's. On this night about ten o'clock I had decided to take a walk before I retired, I left my little cabin, where once, I had been told, stood a great mansion, now destroyed by tl1e frequent storms and tl1e angry waves. As I strolled aimlessly along, my gaze suddenly fell on a small, shiny object lying a few feet ahead of me. I hastened to the spot and picking it up, found it to be a tiny, gold locket, affected by age and the brisk salt air. I turned it over in my hand and dropped it carelessly in my pocket. I returned to my cabin about midnight and began to undress for bed. As I took off my shirt, the mysterious locket dropped from its resting place to the floor below. For a second time I examined the tiny piece of jewelry, and here in the stronger light of my cabin I had the sudden feeling that I had seen this locket somewhere before. Where or when I knew not. Mfhen still a lad of twenty I had been struck with a peculiar fever from which I slowly re- cuperated. This fever had resulted in the loss of my memory. Whatever had occurred in my life before my illness was unknown to me. As I lay there in bed, the locket clasped in my hand, my troubled dreams were filled with nightmares, I tossed from one side of my bed to the other. -If I could only remember!-If I could only remember! It was 1885 when the Henry mansion was being completed at the Point. Old Thomas Henry himself supervised the carpenters as they put the finishing touches on the home he had dreamed of building since the Civil Wfar. The family had finished the moving in that morning and was to have the housewarming on that very night. Major Henry stood in front of his beautiful home admiring its beauty when the large front door opened and Kathie, his lovely eighteen- year-old daughter, came gaily running out. Father, dear, you've been out here almost all day, I've missed you terribly. My, isn't the house going to be the finest in all Georgia? Kathie, my sweet, it does this poor old man good to see you, said the Major with a gay laugh. You know you're getting prettier every day. 'fruthfully could he say such words, for Kathie was a belle of her day. Her dark curly locks fell in loose masses on her snow-white shoulders. Her beautiful blue eyes, which had already conquered many a youth's heart, sparkled with excitement. just why is my daughter so gay today? Oh, Father, you're just trying to tease me, you know it's my eighteenth birthday, and, Father, Mother is having a banquet for me tonight. And is that tl1e only reason? I heard that young David Blake was to be among the guests, and he is quite fond of my Kathie, isn't he? inquired the Major with a chuckle. Father, you mustn't say such things, CHIIIC the shy reply from under a head bent with blushes. I shan't tease you any more, laughed Major Henryg run along and tell your mother that I'll soon be in. Please don't be late, dear, you must greet our guests. About seven the guests began to arrive and were graciously received by the host and hostess. The Hamiltons, the Crosbys, the Abercrombies, and other renowed Southern families began to arrive. Oh, David, why don't you come? Kathie questioned herself in a low voice. She kept wait- ing and watching, but at eight David still had IlOt arrived. f55J ,fgflqiiif QX t -MS.: XFN '-, Q -. Qin

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v 9- 'Y' 55551- 'fl-WE' .,,, ' 93 ' N y.. Qht g wiht In Defense ofthe Nose The most degraded, abased, and humiliated feature of the human face-the nose-has been completely forgotten: except, as a hay fever sufferer will tell you, during the months of Sep- tember and October. It has been socked , slapped, nipped, and broken: tortured by handker- chiefs: pinched by eye glasses: powdered: pressed against window panes: hit by flying baseball bats: twisted, twitched and forced into all sorts of spasmodic contortions. lt has been thrust into other peoples business and used as a woman's salutation to her inferiors fat a certain slantj. Things have been balanced on them-anything from a rubber ball to a set of china ware: they are an aid to little children in eating: acrobats hang suspended by them: philosophers hang mustaches or beards on them. Indeed it is the point of highest interest of the homo-sapien-istic countenance: the climax of the face. Alas! however it is a thankless life this mistreated organ lives. Before we go further. to understand better the fated lot of the nose, we had best describe a bit about the genders, personalities, and character of the nose, generally speaking. To begin with, there is a masculine nose and a feminine one-though few people know it. They differ in vari- ous ways and functions. Such as: a. The .feminine of the species is more apt toward-what has come to be known commonly- smelling a rat or detecting something rotten in the state of Denmark . The masculine nose has not a gift in the art of such. What little ability there is may be totally obliterated by shrewd handling. b. The feminine is able to be stuck into other people's business with a great deal more ease than the masculine. The latter, indeed, tends toward bashfulness: hence, the mustache for it to hide behind. c. The feminine would rebel at a punch in the nose : the masculine thrives on it. d. The feminine can live at a higher elevation than the masculine. e. The feminine is known to sigh, sniff, and sob: the masculine emits grunts, grumbles, snorts. and cigarette smoke. The two are alike only in that both have what may be called dual or split personalities . . .They lead double lives. In the world of literature we find no odes, sonnets, not even a simple lyric to the nose . . . Cexcept for the like of Cyrano de Bergerac whose nose has brought down nothing but universal contempt and ridicule upon all noses and which we shall please forget for the nosels sake . . . H The poet compares the eyes of his heroine with deep, limpid pools of blue for whatever color particularly appeals to himj: her lips are like rubies : her teeth as pearls : her brow fair as the day . . . but what of the nose? ls it endowed with beautiful similes? Could he not give it a line or two? To be metrical about it: for instance, her nose like a rose or the end of a hose , perhaps-but the poet is merciless. The nose is an outcast from description: a fugitive from elaboration . . . The nose shall never hnd a champion among the realm of poets. Nor is it made fatuous among the annals of history. Achilles glorified the heel: Madame de Pompadour, the lock of hair: and a certain Captain jenkins went so far as to have a war fought over his ear. Not once does the historian mention the nose. Do we know the character of Alulius Caesar's nose fexcept that it was a Roman nosej? or that of Napoleon or Christopher Columbus? 'I hroughout the ages this instrument of smell has been the victim of unsung exist- ence. Perhaps if it had been ornamented or decorated, it would not have been so shunned . . . fan exception are the Oriental rings which we overlook for they bring nothing but pain to the mind of any nosej . . . Wfomen of all civilizations have worn rings in their ears, necklaces around their necks, and bracelets on their wrists. They rouge their lips and cheeks but the nose again is forgotten-as in poetry and history, so in beautification. A dab of pastel upon the tip of the nose, a chain with a watch or locket attached, hanging from it fwhich could be called a noselet or noselace j would do much to heighten the morale and social standing of the nose . . . The next time you are following your nose around do not despise it . . . Praise it! Love it! You are greatly indebted to it and it is so unappreciated. -Mary Ann Taber, '45. C575 ss Q. s 'ttf sa ., .g?ff2'2g,sf i' Q1 V g d. 3, -f