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

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large, gray felt slippers gave a most grotesque appearance to this most pecuilar and striking old lady. A PASTORAL IN PROSE ETHEL WALKER, ’12 High up among the grassy precipices of a Scotland mountain, sits a lone shepherd with his straying flock of mountain sheep. He sits upon a low, flat rock overlooking the rough crags and huge rocks below him, which are dotted here and there with scraggly cactus and dwarfed bushes. Stretching far away are the rolling slopes and hollows of the hills, where little hamlets nestle against each other. It is now dusk, and the stars are beginning to twinkle in the dark blue overhead. Looming up against the semidarkness of the dizzy crags is the still form of a shepherd dog guarding the straggling herd. The cool evening breeze ripples over the coarse, tufted grass, and the scented air smells sweet. The young shepherd boy draws out his flute and begins to play. Its plaintive melody sounds sweet and clear in the evening air, breaking the silence of the heights. They are the only living creatures in this wilderness of rocks—the shepherd, his sheep, and the dog. The breeze whispers in harmony with the flute of the boy, and only the pale, cold stars look down, and wink their eyes solemly at the vast solitude. THE CAT HELEN ROYCE, ’12 The cat is a small canine animal with fur, except in extreme in- stances when the conventional covering has been gently amputated through pugilistic endeavors. There are different kinds of cats. Some are black, others gray, maltese, white, tiger or yellow. The color is not so important, however, as the disposition. All cats can purr. That is not a real accomplishment in vocal art—for a cat. It is the gentle, talented little pet that can sing, who is most appreciated—especially by the neighbors. The real prima-donna must be a high soprano, a very high soprano. The highest kind of a soprano cat is the one that sings on the highest fence, nearest the bedroom windows. Cats have capricious appe- tites. They like milk, also mice and ice cream. Cats have tails, some- times long, sleek, and furry; sometimes short, raw, and furless. It de- pends usually upon how long ago they, and their social companions, had their last cat-tail, after-opera dinner. Cats are extremely affectionate. They have a pleasing, winning little way of running their soft little bodies suddenly against the feet of their master or mistress, who has just en- tered the dark house late at night and has forgotten that a dear little pussy is waiting with a tender welcome. Cats are fond of chickens. In- deed this affection is sometimes almost pathetic in its intensity, especially pathetic for the chicken. Cats are soft and squashy, and they wriggle and squirm when you hold them. This is undoubtedly caused by their

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far-off sea where their small sailing boats, loaded with fishes, are tossing over the angry waves of the roughest northern water just as leaves dance on the brook. A sound, not very distinct at first but that grows louder every mo- ment, bringing fear and dread to the already sunken-hearted villager of the windy coast, begins, gradually, to approach the desolate coast. Whence it comes no one knows, but every one is strangely informed, by nature, of some dreadful thing that this well-known sound prophesies. The wind is faster than the most apprehensive thoughts of the fisher- men’s wives; the mountain-like tide with an incredible force and speed assails the low coast as a vast army attacks an unfortified castle; it now reaches the nearest cottages. Then the eries of children and women shrill loudly against the rush- ing water, calling for unobtainable rescue, but these prayers of the poor peasants do not appease the anger fo the North Sea: it chases the inno- cents, who run for their lives, mercilessly and soon overtakes them, cover- ing their feet and heads with its freezing mantle. So on savagely marches the envious assailant as if it were his intention to conquer all. MRS. BLOX ETHEL WALKER, 712 Mrs. Blox was an exceedingly thin and wiry woman,—indeed, her whole being bespoke the wiriness of a spring. Her small. thin face was aided considerably toward still further thinness by the quite novel arrangement of her sparce, iron-gray hair—at least novel beside the present-day styles of hairdressing. What little she owned was drawn back tightly from all sides and secured with a monstrous back-comb. One could never imagine a single lock of her hair ever escaping from the grip of that comb. It stood up straight at the back of her head, bright with fantastic gilt figures, and with a ridge of spikes along the top as straight and sharp and elongated as the woman herself. Beyond this comb hung a few little corkscrew curls, freshly made over each morning and strangely stiff and unnatural; under the tenacious hold of the comb, they bobbed and danced with every move of her head. Her eyes, too, were small, sharp, and steel-gray in color, and further accentuated by spectacles. The eyes had also a wiry look in them which pierced into and through whomsoever or whatsoever she regarded. She was continually pursing her lips into a long, straight line, and her nose, thin and pointed, bespoke an ever-ready tendency to reach out into the world. Her spare and spiral form was clothed in a remarkable costume, remarkable in its fit and pattern. As to the first, she was not to blame for the manner in which it fitted: no one could have taken away the appearance of its being loosely hung from her shoulders, as though it would fall off any minute. The pattern was the most hideous procurable for money, but happily, was partly covered by a white apron. Lastly, her blue stockings and rather

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affectionate delight at being held. Cats can swim, run, and do acrobatic tricks. They are, in fact, quite athletic, and the way in which several sportive kittens play together with a spool of thread or a ball of yarn has often tenderly reminded me of scenes on a college gridiron. Altogether, cats are adorable little beasts, companiable, conforting, entertaining, and affectionate, and it is no wonder that these exemplary little pets are so generally favored and loved. MOUSER VERA VAN EMAN, 714 Mouser was preparing for his dinner; that is, he settled himself com- fortably by a mouse-hole in the callar and waited for his dinner to come to him. Perhaps he knew the old proverb, “All things come to himi who waits”. It was sometimes a long time that he was forced to sit thus, but, by great diligence and his ability in that direction, Mouser had wor. his name, just as he expected on this particular day to win his dinner. Fres- ently his ears straightened and his tail flipped back and forth, while the stars at night could not compare with his bright and gleaming eyes, for he scented a mouse, and, more than that, he heard it and his instinct told him that it was to be a large one. At a faint sound, Mouser grew rigid and motionless. There was one terrible moment of suspense, a quick pounce, then a shrill little squeak and Mouser had his dinner. EVENING VERA VAN EMAN, ’14 Through the half-open door of Grandma’s room could be seen the dear old lady, placidly knitting by the fire, in the deepening twilight. Tabitha, her old pet cat, was dozing at her feet and would, now and then, yawn, open one eye, and close it again, in cat fashion. Upon an old-fash- ioned chair by Grandma’s side was a pile of neatly folded garments to be mended, and a basket of bright colored yarns, for Grandma did not enjoy idleness. Presently the tired fingers stopped, the ball slipped from their loosening grasp and rolled away under the old writing desk, and Tabitha and her mistress were asleep. PERSONAL DESCRIPTION ALICE WOODRUFF, ‘12 Billy was tired, Bill was mad, and he made an imposing little figure as he stamped his way through the dusty fields on his way to the swim- ming hole after being kept in late at school. He was a boy of nine, but small for his age, and as quick as a grasshopper. His little freckled face with its dancing brown eyes, little snub nose and red lips which disclosed a set of tiny white teeth, brimmed over with fun and childish innocence when Billy was happy, but, when he was mad, his brown eyes became dark and his little nose tilted into an ugly curve.