South Pasadena High School - Copa de Oro Yearbook (South Pasadena, CA)

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The day after we arrived in Rome we enjoyed a visit to that world- famed Amphitheater, the Coliseum. After viewing the exterior, and ex- hausting every exclamation in the English language, we strolled inside. There the proportions are so gigantic that nobody, I care not who he be, can truly realize the enormity of it until he views it for himself. As our guide explained its appearance at the time of Nero, with its gorgeous scarlet velvet and gold curtains, I became so carried away with it all, that it evidently was quite noticeable. So our guide, with one pitying glance, turned to me and said, “What a pity you didn’t live at the time of Nero!” But no less was I impressed with Saint Peter’s at Rome, the largest and most imposing cathedral in the world. Within the interior of the Cathedral there is not one painting to be seen, each work of art being a fresco, the entire number of which were nearly all painted by Michael Angelo alone. The choicest fresco, however, is by Bellini, which consists of the magnificent canopy beneath the dome. This exquisite masterpiece is carried out in the rarest of tints and is encircled by a design of en- crusted gold. There is a little chapel in Saint Peter’s of marvelous workmanship, a rare jewel, which is a perfect miniature of Saint Peter himself. The dome, facade, surrounding columns and, to the most minute details, all are copied in perfect exactness. In the center of this Cathedral is an enormous canopy of gold and malakite, beneath which are steps of precious stone, with a hand railing also of gold, which lead down to the vault where lie, in a golden casket, the will and ashes of Saint Peter. Here one of the most exquisite pieces of workmanship is displayed, which consists of a mosaic of the Head of Christ, completed in the fourth century. The background of the picture is nothing but tiny squares of gold, and to this fact is due the cause for its splendid preservation. It seems almost impossible to realize that the people of the fourth century possessed such remarkable genius, for, at the present day, a more perfect fresco could not be produced. We will now journey to the Vatican, which, of course, is noteworthy for its richly embellished interior, as well as artistic and literary treasures stored within. One of the finest parts is the Sistine Chapel, the crowning beauty of which is the wonderfully painted ceiling and “Last Judgement” on the altar-wall. This is Michael Angelo’s greatest work, for here his magnificent genius shines forth brilliantly. As space is fast filled, and mine is limited, we must journey to the Catacombs. The use of the Catacombs as a place of refuge during the periods of the Christian persecution is only too well-known, and these wonderfully devised secret passages form a link between the classical and Christian periods. Trappist Monks now guide you through, first supplying each one with a candle about four inches long. The descent into the Catacombs themselves is by a great number of stone steps, and, as you leave the hot Itailan weather below, you receive your first realization of what the

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| ee eee Christians really suffered. Below are passages with high walls, in which there are tiers upon tiers of shelves. Here the Christians would climb up and secret themselves, living so for months at a time. Numberless human bones are strewn about, and there are two skeletons whose long and silky hair is in perfect condition. Under a glass case is a wax figure of Saint Cecelia, showing how she was martyred. There she lies, face downward, her hands clutching a crucifix, while the cruel cuts of the axe show plainly where the blood seems to trickle slowly over the snowy neck. Just at this particular moment, when I was deeply impressed by the horror of this scene, as we were walking down a little incline, my foot slipped upon the damp soil and I arrived at the bottom a little more quickly than the others, minus my candle, and was assured by all I looked none the better for my hasty journey. The Catacombs are a perfect labyrinth and extend for miles. Should you lose your way, escape is impossible. The only chance is that a monk might be wandering through and therefore rescue you. These Trappist monks have a large factory where they manufacture the most deliciou- chocolate and butterscotch, and by selling this, together with many nov- elties, they are able to attain quite a nice amount of money. There is a saying that if you live in Rome three years, you will then desire to live ten, for only then does one realize what a tremendous amount there is to be seen and learned. The last place of mention, how- ever, that will undoubtedly interest all, is the little Chapel of Scala Santa. Here are the steps from the house of Pilate, which Jesus de- scended after His terrible scourging. Great blood stains mar them badly, but they are now covered in wood, in order that they may be well pre- served. Anyone who wishes to ascend these stairs must do so upon his knees, saying a prayer at each step; when the altar which is at the sum- mit is reached, he must remain there some time, saying over several prayers; then the descent is made in the same way—of course, being still upon the knees. Throughout the world there are numberless places of interest and beauty, each seeming to surpass the other, and well it has been said, “See Naples and die,’”’ but my choice, as is the choice of many others, would be the “Eternal City.” | Echoes of Description From the Class Room | TSU NAMI—A TIDAL WAVE SHIGEYOSHI FUKASAWA, 712 The day is cold and cloudy with the continuous wind blowing from the snow-covered ice-land of northern Siberia; all the fishermen’s wives, with their children, are thinking deeply about their fathers’ fates on the

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Christians really suffered. Below are passages with high walls, in which there are tiers upon tiers of shelves. Here the Christians would climb up and secret themselves, living so for months at a time. Numberless human bones are strewn about, and there are two skeletons whose long and silky hair is in perfect condition. Under a glass case is a wax figure of Saint Cecelia, showing how she was martyred. There she lies, face downward, her hands clutching a crucifix, while the cruel cuts of the axe show plainly where the blood seems to trickle slowly over the snowy neck. Just at this particular moment, when I was deeply impressed by the horror of this scene, as we were walking down a little incline, my foot slipped upon the damp soil and I arrived at the bottom a little more quickly than the others, minus my candle, and was assured by a ll I looked none the better for my hasty journey. The Catacombs are a perfect labyrinth and extend for miles. Should you lose your way, escape is impossible. The only chance is that a monk might be wandering through and therefore rescue you. These Trappist monks have a large factory where they manufacture the most deliciou- chocolate and butterscotch, and by selling this, together with many nov- elties, they are able to attain quite a nice amount of money. There is a saying that if you live in Rome three years, you will then desire to live ten, for only then does one realize what a tremendous amount there is to be seen and learned. The last place of mention, how- ever, that will undoubtedly interest all, is the little Chapel of Scala Santa. Here are the steps from the house of Pilate, which Jesus de- scended after His terrible scourging. Great blood stains mar them badly, but they are now covered in wood, in order that they may be well pre- served. Anyone who wishes to ascend these stairs must do so upon his knees, saying a prayer at each step; when the altar which is at the sum- mit is reached, he must remain there some time, saying over several prayers; then the descent is made in the same way—of course, being still upon the knees. Throughout the world there are numberless places of interest and beauty, each seeming to surpass the other, and well it has been said, “See Naples and die,” but my choice, as is the choice of many others, would be the “Eternal City.” | Echoes of Description From the Class Room | TSU NAMI—A TIDAL WAVE SHIGEYOSHI FUKASAWA, 712 The day is cold and cloudy with the continuous wind blowing from the snow-covered ice-land of northern Siberia; all the fishermen’s wives, with their children, are thinking deeply about their fathers’ fates on the