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

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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

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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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Back Row: Betty Vaughan, Sally Gary, Tosca Garibaldi, Annie Laurie Ham, Patricia Wellons, janet Gore, Kitty Maddux, Harriorre Bland. Middle Row: Ann' Bush, Susan Harris, Joyce Garibaldi, Edith Taylor, Mary Hilleary Bryant. Front Row: Virginia Quarrier XVynn, Patricia Reager, Doris Ann Frick, Anne Rowland. The Black and Gold LL year round we have different sportsg each in their season. First comes the hockey season, which is the favorite sport of the school. This year we played differently from other years. Our school was divided into two teams: one consisting of the Seniors and the Sophomores which was called the Gold Tearng and the other. of the Juniors and the Freshmen called the Black Team. Each team had their own captain: Joyce Garibaldi captained the Gold Team and Patricia Reager captained the Black. At the end of the season a trophy was awarded by the school to the Winner. This year, the Gold Team won. The trophy is to he passed down, each year. to the winning team. Hereis hoping next year's Gold Team keeps up the good work and again wins the coveted prize! Besides this, we had outside games planned for us with the University of Louisville, the Amazons and the Masonic Homeg the season was enjoyed by all. Later, when the weather was too cold we had howling and badminton in the gymnasium of the Church of the Advent. As the weather changed and there were sunnier days, we had soft hall and socker in the dirnple. In the course of our season of sports. our gymnasium teacher, Miss Moore, left us and Mrs. Elliott ahly took over in her place. The sportsmanship you learn and the fun you get from sports was shared hy all who participated this year. Dorothy Von Allman Seventeen