Kentucky Home School for Girls - Pandaisia Yearbook (Louisville, KY)

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My Companion NE day in March, I climbed a hill, a high and lonely hill, and there I met the Wind. He came to meet me running from the valley far below. We needed no in- troduction, the Wind and I, for often he had sung to me, and I knew his voice. The Wind is a youth, an eager, young man just tasting the joys of life, proud and tem- pestuous of spirit, carried away by his emo- tions, so that when annoyed or displeased, he shakes the earth in the mightiness of his rage, but like most temperamental people, he repents and atones for his hastiness by a becoming gentleness. I was fortunate in my meeting, Sir Wind was particularly charming, and sang to me in sweetest tone, and why? In the first place, February had just passed, and as everyone knows, the Wind quarrels fiercely with Feb- ruary. Then, too, Spring was beginning to gather up courage enough on sunny days to peep out on the world. Of course, you know the Wind is in love with Spring ffor who could resist her delicate charms?J and every year he woos her in his gentlest, most com- pelling manner. So on the day I met him, the Wind was happy and glad, and together, we romped and raced up and down the hills. Then, when I tired, he sang to me, and I was soothed by his musical tones. When evening came, I walked slowly home. accompanied by the Wind, and who could want a better escort? Carolyn Hart, '42 Frontiers A snapping of twigs in the vine-tangled forest, And the soft pad, pad of moccasined feet, And a low mournful bird cry, a note half human, And soft beneath them sounds of a tom- torn's beat. These are the sounds that I hear in the forest, Where white men have not yet come, A hoot-owl's crying, and a bob-whitels voice, And soft beneath them the throb of a drum-g And when blue dusk falls on azure waters, I hear the flap of a wild heron's wing And the slipping and the slapping of waves on a paddle, And the quick, short crack of a taut bow- string. The wail of a lonesome prairie wind, And the loud click-clack of booted feet, And the squeaking sound of a worn leather Saddle, And soft beneath them a sharp hoof beat. These are the sounds that I hear on the plains, Where time with slow steps moves. The rush and the bellow of a buffalo herd And soft beneath it the sound of hooves, And when the red sun sets beyond the moun- ta1n, I hear the lowing of restless cattle, And calls that echo across the vastness, And spurs and stirrups as they ring and rattle. Peggy Shelley, '42 The Magic Touch VVithout my window many things I see, And all reveal the magic touch of Spring. An oak with silky buds that soon will be Soft, feathery leaves. The swaying elms that bring With every ,green-tipped limb, the oriolesg 'Twas yesterday, first came to me the sweet, Loud call of golden orioles. The souls Of men through ages past with joy complete Have heard that song. Across the way a tree With shaggy bark and slender trunk has met The Spring's caress. Now, farther back, I see Some cherry blossoms, white and delicate, And over all, a cloudless, blue sky! And sunshine gilding every tree-top high! Carolyn Hart, '42 Nine

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CAROLYN LOUISE HART DOROTHY LEI-3 VON ALLMEN L'You write with ease to show your breeding, 'GA flattering painter who made it his care, But easy writing curs'd hard reading. To draw men as they ought to be, not as they aref, BETTY JEAN WALKER VIRGINIA QUARRIER WYIW i' HBuy my flowers, come-O buy, I pray! MMQIHY TCCCWC advice, The blind girl comes from afarf' Few Profit by it-U Eight

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Reminiscence QAn Imaginary Incidentj OW often I have heard my grandmother tell stories of the Civil Warg especially the one in which her mother had an interview with President Lincoln. Our family was Southern, and, as a result had a great hatred for Lincoln, but something happened which changed this sentiment, and I shall tell you about it. My great-grandmother had a brother whom she simply adored, and when the war came, why, of course, he joined the Confederate Army. They heard from him occasionally, and then for many months they received no word. Finally the news came that he had been captured by the Union soldiers, and be- cause he was caught as a spy, would very probably be shot within the next few days. My great-grandmother was heart-broken, but instead of making up her mind that his death was inevitable, she tried to think of every possible scheme by which she could save his life, and suddenly had the wonderful thought that she would go to Washington, and have an interview with Mr. Lincoln! In those times this was a very daring and presumptuous idea for a young girl even to consider, but the thought appealed to her, and restored a faint glimmer of hope. An aunt lived in Washing- ton, and consequently she had little trouble persuading her parents to consent to the journey, though until long afterwards, they did not understand the reason for her sudden longing to visit her relatives. After a rather long, difficult journey, she arrived safely, and having confided her plan to her uncle, persuaded him to accompany her, though he considered the whole idea ab- surd and useless. They reached the Presi- dent's office about noon, the busiest time of the day, but after an hour's wait, she was admitted to the office. Her uncle remained outside, thinking that she alone might be able to do what he did not have the power to do and .... and he was not disappointed! The mercy which the South had heard about for so long was not just an empty word, but a human reality, and it was personified in Lincoln himself. She admitted afterwards that she could scarcely remember how she worded her plea, or his exact words, except these few which were indelibly fixed in her mind: UI have not suffered by the South, I have suffered with the South. Your sorrow has been my pain. What you have lost, I have lost, and what you have gained, I have gained. Then he closed by signing a paper granting the release of her brother. Virginia Quarrier Wynn, 542 ' The Wind Stay outlu said the child To the wind so wild, As he closed the window and door, uYou can't come in, When you make such a din, And hurl everything to the floorf' Said the wind, All right, Keep the windows shut tight, Until this storm is over, But in the end, Ten Youill count me a friend, And be glad I'm a rover, For I go to the sea, Drive the clouds before me, And bring you all your rains, Now the birds and flowers, Enjoy my showers, And thank me for my painsf' Tosca Garibaldi, '42