Sonora Union High School - Green and Gold Yearbook (Sonora, CA)

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l-l-1- GREEN AND GOLD 1-1- Golden Cross by EILEEN sums '16 HE SILVERY PALENESS of the moon shed a radiance over the rolling terrace of a great English garden, illuminating it with a cold blue light. A girl, robed all in white, stood by a marble fountain, and bending over her was a man. A solemness, that bespoke of farewells was on their faces, Oh Hugh, and to think that I may never see you again. I hate war, it's cruel and it's needless. But we may still hope, Patty, I mightn't get even a scratch, and I'm too much of a Britisher not to enjoy a good scrap. Kitchener's a wonder, too, I call it a privilege to be able to fight under him, he's one of the kind of men who make history. Ten minutes passed in which neither spoke a word. At such times, words are useless, but the very silence itself was eloquent. Finally the man arose, looked at his watch and said, I must go, dear, I'm due at headquarters now. The girl 'rose and quickly unclasped from around her white throat a tiny golden cross, and holding it out to him, whispered, Take it, Hugh, and keep it and perhaps, who can tell, but that it will bring you luck, be your talismanl' O U 8 i In the white washed walls of a hospital, the groans and cries of the suffering and dying rent the air. The white robed nurses and doctors moved about in their merciful efforts to relieve the sufferers. In a corner, somewhat removed from the rest, a wounded man lay on a cut. One could tell at a glance that Death had already claimed him for his num. Bending over him was another man. I'm not afraid to go, Joe. Thank God, that I've lived so that my soul is fit to face its Maker. But Joe, there's a girl,-il' A convulsive spasm of pain crossed the dying man's face. His comrade pressed his ear close to the other's lips, so as to get the next words. Thrusting something into Joe Hunter-'s hand, the sufferer tried to speak. Tak-, it was too late, he fell back dead. When Hunter opened his hand to see what was there, he caught the gleam of a tiny golden cross. l 8 8 O We never know what Fate has in store for us, she's a fickle goddess at best, and in many instances she plays strange pranks. Five years pass, before we meet Patricia Reed again. In the meantime Joe Hunter had met her and fallen in love with her. He pressed his suit and was accepted, for heart sores, even though they do burn deep at first, with time heal, and only the scar is left. Going through some papers in an old desk one day, Mrs. Hunter came -Page'13-

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--- GREEN LAND GOLD -1---l A Myth of Bald Mountain CLARA CAZZARETTO '16 PON THE WESTERN slope of Bald Mountain, where the pine trees grow, there lived a beautiful maiden. No one knew how she came, or from where she came, they only knew that she was the prettiest and dearest girl that they'd ever seen, and thought that perhaps she was sent by the Almighty to beautify their lives. Nor could they find out from her, why such a .fairy-like maid should live alone up in those hills. The birds and trees alone knew why she had come, for all day long she'd tramp the trails, singing her story as she went. She had a favorite spot where she would sit each day after her tramp, and sing to the growing things about her. She once had a. lover in another world, the world of strife and struggle. He was a nobleman, and she just a flower girl, who stood on the street corners. He must marry a noble lady and her poor heart grew so lonely that she became a frail girl, and the wind carried her to this quiet spot. Over in his world her lover sat in his father's drawing room. In the next room were ladies of his station, chattering over tea cups. He hated this life, ao went out to stroll in the garden. He sat on a rustic bench near the swan pond and drank in the gentle breeze. She too was sitting in her world at her favorite spot, and the breeze hearing her song, carried it to her lover's ear. How could he sit there and ignore that sweet call from the one he knew should be his! He wandered far from his home, and one glorious day found himself in a beautiful spot of the Sierras, where birds of every kind called to each other, from the tops of the trees. Far in the distance he heard a sweet song, and as he stood there, it came closer, and in a moment, the sweet- heart of his old world stood before him. He stretched his arms out to her, calling her to him, and she, reading the look in his eyes, ran to him and was folded in his embrace. Then along came the gentle breeze and carried the two happy people to a world of their own. So the mysterious maid of Bald Mountain disappeared as silently as she had come, but her song is still heard by people walking by her home, as the breeze sighs through the watchful pines that she loved. -Page 12-

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- . GREEN .mu cow --i-- across a small box. Curiously she opened it. A ghastly pallor spread over her face and her hand shook and trembled, for there lay the cross she had given to Hugh Wallace, in the old garden, ten years ago. Many times she opened her lips to question her husband, but some strange impulse stayed her tongue, so she decided tn keep silent: and, in a little drawer of her dressing table, Patricia locked away the box, and with it locked away many a sweet and sorrowful memory. A HOLD ATTEMPT AT INVOKING THE MUSE OME POETRY for the Green and Gold, Oh dear! the Junior sighs, Pd never think of a thing so bold, As to write down bare-faced lies. There're singing birds, and dappled skies, And dancing wavelets blue. There're plaintive songs, and maiden's sighs, But there's the rythm yet to do. Thex-e's nothing of poetic rhyme, In Chemistry's awful names, There's less in Algebrsls minus signs, For unpoetic dames. But a toast to old Tuolumne Hi, I raise to the heavens blue, As long as the years and months roll by, May we be true to you. C. C. '16. -Page 14-