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

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Should This Be on My Conscience? ND it came to pass that having parted not many minutes ago, were never to meet again in this world. If I had known then the significance of our last farewell, I might have made it different, some how. Our meeting an hour before was a com- mon meeting between a native and an Amer- ican visitor, but from the first moment I felt sympathetic toward his life and felt a childish passion, that I might help by sharing with him this jungle reality. My conscience some- times turns my sadness to fear. when I think- but then I must not censure myself for the fatal accident. Any commoner beside myself might have been standing there that sunny afternoon, handing him the quarter, watching the hot rails blazing, dazzling in the sun, innocently Waiting. It alleviates my weary brain to think that any other human figure might have stood and watched his childlike fingers turn the silver piece over in his tiny hands and give a toothless grin to the giver. Any other of God's creatures might have watched, as I watched, his youthful form climb upon the rail as it lay silently waiting, watched a quick tear creep into his eyes. Only for a second did it stay, then the brown eyes sparkled as before. What would I give to see them sparkle now! I began to realize the danger and must have shown it in my face, for he gave me a reassuring smile and waved good-bye. Then down he went, a mile down from the mighty crest of the hill, sheer drop, down the fir-covered mountain side, as others had done before him, for a piece of shining silver. And it was over. Only this time was not like the other times. This time, some four thousand feet from the top, his bronze body had slipped and he had not reached the bottom. Somewhere among the forest green- ery, he lay, lifeless, with a small piece of silver clutched in his hand. Scattered among the mountains of Mexico there are silver mines. In these tropical re- gions rails are laid the full height of the mountain for the purpose of transporting the silver from the mines. Some mines, abandoned, allow visitors to drive to the top. Young native boys, for a tip, will slide the drop of some two miles, straight down. Ray Hikes, '42 A Tale HE night was misty. There was no wind, but the trees rocked and made a crash- ing sound. On either side of the riveris bed, cattails stretched their long necks and nodded to and fro, there was a distinct mur- mur as though they were sighing to each other. Overhead the gray clouds rushed across the sky leaving gaps in their hurry. Then the moon rose, crimson in color, through the thin ghastly mist. My eyes fell upon a form emerging from out this mist, it was wrapped in a toga of old Rome, the outlines of the figure were indistinct, but the face was clearly visible and was that of a man. He stood without movement, his brow was lofty and his eyes were filled with pain, his cheeks were furrowed with many lines. I stood within a shelter and watched where, though before there was no wind, a tempest now broke, the wind roared, lightning flashed and rain beat on the man's head, I was fasci- nated. The man stood silently looking up. Soon the wind stopped, the thunder died away, the lightning ceased to flash, and the clouds hung motionless. Still silently, the man stood looking up. A lynx came out of the gloom, lay down at his feet and gazed at him steadily. All faded again into the mist. Joyce Garibaldi, ,42 Fifteen

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,lane Abbott. They were led to the throne between two rows of applauding students. After the Queen read her proclamation, she was entertained by a Latin Play written by Elizabeth Eggers and Patricia Reager. Sev- eral of the traditional dances of Tudor times were danced and the affair was closed by the lovely May Pole Dance. The class bell rang, and the students and teachers returned to their classes to continue their day's work while the audience of parents and friends of the school wended their way under the rose bower to their homes. Annie Laurie Ham, '42 The Horn 0 Plenty N THIS year, three thousand, A.D., tell us, fortune teller of music, what happened to our ancestors in nineteen hundred and forty-two when they sang at K.H.S. Well, as the vision comes to me, they certainly had their cornucopia filled to overflowing. HFirst they prepared books with carols of all lands and put gay Christmas pictures to beautify these books. They had a Christmas program at Christ Church Cathedral where they sang carols of many different countries ending with a Mexican scene. The alumnae chorus joined them in wishing a grand Noel to each and everyone. 4'Then they were invited to broadcast through the old Singing Christmas Tree, from radio station VVINN. 4'They sang at stores called Stewart's, and Kaufman's, pleasing the Christmas shoppers. '4After that I see them singing for a group of appreciative soldiers from Fort Knox at the Louisville Service Club. The fortune-teller's eyes seem to move to another point in the past. After the Christmas season, my vision turns to Belknap Campus of the University of Louisville, where under the able leadership of Miss Moody, Director of Music at the school, one hears the lovely voices of four soloists: Mary Annette Poulos, who later is to receive a Superior rating at Lexingtong Ann Litton Roland who receives the same rating with her song, 'The Years at the Spring'g Carolyn Hart who receives an ex- cellentg and Dorothy Von Allmen, the mezzo- soprano, who also receives an excellent rating Fourteen with the song 'At Partingf To complete the range of voices is Susan Harris, alto, who also receives an excellent. The fortune-teller's eye lights with pleasure at the next view she sees. 4'The winners of the Cincinnati Symphony Book Contest were Dorothy Von Allmen who won first prize with her beautiful book, and was presented with a lovely medal by Mr. Eugene Goossens, director of the orchestrag and Virginia Rutledge and Betty Lou Unge- leider who both received prizes too. uln Lexington, beside the soloists, the Roland trio received a 'good' for their ef- forts, and the Hart trio won an excellent rating. HBack at the school where the Intermediate School and the Junior High gave a successful rendition of a cMother Goose Arabesque.' 'GLast to appear in music is a small group of selected singers performing at the Crescent Hill Woman's Club. 66The vision fades, but shines bright again as I see the school receiving honors in an- other field of art. Mary McDowell and Patricia Reager are the proud recipients of the second and third prizes for a city wide contest for an Essay on aMy Present and Future Responsibility in My Governmentf To Mary goes a 3510 book of Defense Stamps and to Patricia a 355 book. STO the strains of the graduation music the seniors surrounded by their flower girls in their colorful dresses pass into another year. Carolyn Hart, '42

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An Old-Fashioned Garden HE old stone wall was standing in the shade of a row of oak trees, which over- hung the yard and shaded the flower beds from the afternoon sun. The freshly white- washed wooden gate creaked when anyone in- terrupted the serene peace of this old-fashioned garden. Its hinges would screech out a warning for all the Mthings that humans never see to hide in the buds of the flowers and under their leaves. The wall was covered with a green creeping vine, on which were small blue buds and in the morning sun they would open their eyes and turn their lovely faces to the east, forming a blue cloud of morning glories on that side of the garden. Like all old-fashioned flower beds, this was planned to produce a riot of color and each flower complemented another. The coreopsis and white shasta daisies, the pop- pies and larkspur, the foxgloves, Sweet William, and phlox all swayed and gossiped quietly in the breeze that blew in off of the ripening fields of grain. Each nodding its head to its neighbor to comment on the fine- ness of the day or the blueness of the July sky. And as they rustled back and forth, one wondered if they were thinking if per- haps they would be chosen by their mistress to fill her favorite vase. The stepping stones were almost lost in a carpet of velvety, green moss. As the steps approached the door the pinks and ageratum which grew around the entrance to the house, ran to meet them and intermingled with the moss. Their little pink and white heads rested on the soft, cool green background. No weed dared to enter this sacred abode, because loving hands guarded the flowers too well against their age-old enemy who comes and chokes out their fragrant, colorful life. lane! Core, '42 Sixteen The Five Senses Have you ever closed your eyes and seena Sunlight on a scarlet leaf, Moonlight on rippling water, Dew glistening on spiders, webs, The gleam of a star in the night? And heard: The rustle of steps in the dry grasses. The hum of bees in clover, The pelting of rain, The song of the lark? And tasted: Aromatic mint, Savor of orange, Piquant sauce, Special wine? And smelled: The aroma of coffee, The damp earth, Smoke from last year's leaves, The fragrance of lilacs? And felt: The hush of the dawn, The glory of the rising sun, The charm of a smile, The thrill of 5'The Star Spangled Banneru? Tosca Garibaldi, ,LQ