Joseph Le Conte Middle School - Le Contean Yearbook (Hollywood, CA)

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VVith this over, the image was lifted up, turned around and put back in place in the temple. The dance began again, and as each passed the Sun Idol, he left an offering and then made his exit. Soon all was over and I proceeded on my way as though I had seen noth- ing at all, for it might easily have made trouble if it had been known that any white man had witnessed the ritual. DAVID COOK' BQ. My Effort To woo the muse Ilve often tried, But vainly have I sat and sighed. Ilve thought of flowers, trees and brooks. And read in many ponderous books- In Tennysorfs and BroWning's lore, I've delved until my eyes were sore. Ilve sat for hours beside the fire, Hoping the embers might inspire. Iyve thought at Inspiration Point Until my poor brain's out of joint, The words won't rhyme. the meter's wrong, In Kiplingls class I donyt belong. To one and all I will confide. The muse with me will not abide, So this poor effort please excuse, And blame it not on that same old muse. L Twenty-seven hairpins, Nine pennies and a dime, A ladyIs box of powder, A watch that kept no time. A rhyme by Harry Lauder, Six sticks of chewing gum. As well as an old compass That was quite Non the bumff ELIZABETH HEAiA1EoN,B9. 'ln the Lining of an Old Sofa Among the burnt-up matches There was a Chinese yeng A doll made up of patches, A little flannel hen. Then the furniture maxi Sent a letter which said, HClean your sofa yourself, I am going to bed! ARTHUR HOPMAN, A7

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The Temple of the Suni' The scorching mid-day sun beat down upon all India and made every animal and insect uncomfortable. including one Lieutenant Colburn of the U. S. lNfIarines, who was at that time on a wild goose chase after silver in the hills of the Houglee River. I, the recently mentioned Colburn, had come to India on the tramp ship HArctures'l as an engineer, but had left her when she put in at the ancient city of Calcutta. The next morning I was on my way before the sun had risen. for I was taking advantage of an early morning breeze to blow my little yawl to its up-river destination. Rounding a bend I came upon a beautiful pillar-filled temple. There was nothing unusual about this temple, the likeness of which could be found in many hundred places throughout India. except the location and the fact that its broad steps, fashioned of solid blocks of some rare, carved wood, led directly down to the river's edge and right out into it for a short distance. There was a hushed murmur of many voices and everywhere hung an atmosphere of expectancy. Suddenly there began the soft, weird music of Hute and drums. Out of the shadows in the background swayed three figures. The center one was evidently a priest of high rank. He wore a great head-dress with long, wavy corona which I recognized to be the emblem of the Sun God, Ra. His long, flowing, white robes were decorated with the same emblem. The two other figures followed to either side and a little to the rear. Their robes were identical with the high priest's, but they wore no head-dress, merely a turban of some silver cloth wrapped tightly about the head in true Oriental fashion. The priest proceeded to the edge of the steps where he paused, and seemed to give an order, and to face about. At this the gentle ululation of the drums began to increase and swell, and again the figures danced out of the shadows, bearing before them a huge red image of the sun, with the long, golden corona. This they bore out into the river, the priest taking his place directly in front of it. They all waded to waist level, where the priest stood motionless, with arms outstretched, for fully ten minutes. His fanatical will seemed to draw out his physical endurance almost indefinitely. All this times the drums had been making an ever-rising crescendo, until amid a final crash of drums and wail of flutes, the first rays of the morning sun shot into the temple and illuminated every shadowy corner. The throng had been writhing and undulating in the darkness, in a sort of fanatical dance, but the instant that the sun came into view, every soul in the temple raised his hands above his head, and fell rigidly on his face. The priest nodded and the image of the sun was dipped half into the water, while with lowered arms straight forward, he chanted a long, weird invocation. fiozj

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Bubble! Bubble! Toil and Troublelv Once as a wind was blowing over the lake, it wafted a pretty bubble down from the skies, which, with a big splash, landed on a ripple. The ripple mumbled and scolded something about Please change your weight to my other side. The bubble replied timidly, f'Ah, my friend, can I not tell you how I come to be here ? As he got no answer, he went on dreamily. When I was young I was very bad. One day my father became angry and blustered so hard that I burst and left home by riding down the drain pipe. It was not long before I got exceedingly bored with the scenery and wished myself back in the good old kitchen sink. I suppose that my mother was very sad because she was in mourning for a long time. Well, pretty soon I saw the light and found myself in a bubble pipe being blown like a bird, in that glorious, pep- giving air, so I Hounced and bounced and had a good timef, As it said this, it looked sad, and continued with a sigh. The wind blew me here, and as you see, I am still here. The ripple replied sarcastically, 'ISO I see. You are very much here, to my great discomfortfl The bubble evidently did not hear this last remark for it kept steadily on. HI am really very beautiful, donlt you think ? and here it turned around to show itself, and started swelling more and more, in great pride, changing colors all the while. Then suddenly it shuddered, shivered and collapsed. The ripple, who had been its unwilling host, murmured, I did not like your weighty a good riddancelu And with a shrug it went merrily on its way. HAZEL HARRIS, A7. Yearning I often wish that I might be A traveler in a far country. And in a picturesque sampan Drift down the rivers of Japan. I have a strong and wistful yen For the land of Oriental men, For color, incense, mystery, Old gardens fashioned charmingly. I know that some day I shall be In one of those gardens sipping tea, Languidly waving a painted fan, Where cherry trees bloom in old Japan. KATHLEEN CASSHJY, BQ. f 1041