Lowell High School - Lowellian Yearbook (Lowell, IN)

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ui immnmiMUHHiiiiiimHniHiHiuuiiimnniii.. .oumuan iiiiiiiiiiiiHtiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ' iiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiaiuii another came with threads of truth to be added to the things worth while. It was Thelma Hill. Still farther I went to the edge of an enchanted wood. A little wood page met me. In red and gold I recognized Floyd Vinnedge. He told me the story of the enchanted wood. Two owls, Herbert Korth and Dilwyn Nicholas sat outside the window of the beautiful princess, Mabelle Feeley, continually asking “Who?” She loved one of them but not being able to dis¬ tinguish one from the other in their present state, she was in a great dilemma. Hastening over a path that seemed strewn with pink pearls on which a touch of sunlight fell, I exclaimed, “What mystery are you ?” “We are the pathway of tears” came the voice of Hilda Dahl. I came to a great garden with a hedge as green as the bright¬ est emerald. Bethel Haskell was caring for the flowers. “See,” she said, pointing to a dark red rose, “this is Vera Bess, and this tall lily is Elizabeth Miller. Each day they be¬ come sweeter and in time they will develop their own person¬ alities and I thought it quite a wonderful garden. A little toad was hopping about catching bugs among the flowers. “Be careful, Clayton Davis,” Bethel spoke to the toad, “be careful don’t hop on the ladies branches.” A humming bird perched itself upon the garden hedge and winked mischievously at me. “Why, Natalie Trump is that you?” I cried. With a little flutter it flew about my head and hummed and the tune was so like one of our old high school songs that even the flowers nodded in unison. Back to the little brook from whence I came, 1 saw within it the little bodies that I knew contained human minds, yet for some reason they must work out their own reincarnation. I reached again the golden tree and heard the voices of Lucile Miller, Harriett Clark and Ettie Lee, but I could not see them. “Where are you girls, I would like so much to see you,” I called to them. Immediately, the great golden tree glowed and brightened like the sun. When the colors showed transparent I saw them each with the same old smile and I knew they were keeping the tree of life shining. What a wonderful day ! I, the spirit of the class of 1917, standing beneath the tree of life, had solved the problem of the ages. It was this-. “As ye give so shall ye receive.” iJiiiiiiHiiiiiiiitiimiiiiiiMumiiiiiiiiitiuiiiimiiiimuiiiuiu iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiuuiiniuiiimiimiiuiiiiniiiiiitniiiiniiiiiiiiuiiiimiiiiiin 1917 iMti iiitiitiiiiiiiiiiuMii niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiittuitiitiiiiiiiiitiitiiiiitiiiiiiiiii4ti(iiiiiiiiti;iiitisiii!nmiiuiiiii:iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiuiiiiiiitiiiiiiitiiitiii!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiif::mm Tn

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