St Joseph Academy - Jomara Yearbook (Yakima, WA)

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Twenty-eight T H E A U R O R A f'She is counting calories, Minos informed me, for she considered Cooking a bore- dom. 4000-5000-6000- As we reached the last circle I was so overcome that I felt sick and frightened. Shrieking, I groped my way through the damp, dark passages, while behind me, the Grim Judge laughed in hollow, mocking tones. Mother! Mother! I rushed on, passed the Warder, and through the grim menac- ing Portals of Purgatory. Mother! I rubbed my eyes, and sat up. Above me was a sky of wondrous blue, flecked with snow-white clouds. The golden sunbeams danced and flitted here and there. I raised my hand, and felt the soft cooling fragrance of apple blossoms. I was 'neath the old apple tree. ' Then the ever-sweet face of my Mother was framed in the doorway and I heard the soft, soothing tones of her voice, What is it, dear? I-I-why, I just wanted to tell you, Mother, that I will be right in to do the dishes. And the sunbeams followed. DOROTHY ERNSDORFF, '24. TO SISTER MARY LORETTA There is an infallible rule in every school that deals with books and teachers. To most grim students who lack wise prudence, school is by far above the par at she greatest comic in tragic features. The comedy is laughable, the tragedy is passable, the two combined, the scholars find, is-this we'll gladly mention-the last result of our teachers' cult, and our Superintendent's keen attention. For well we know that very oft when we feel inclined to take things easy, the Superintendent of our schools will just breeze in 'to enforce the rules. When, gently reclining at our ease, We waft the wasted minutes to the breeze, and breathe a low, contented sigh as we lay the waiting, pleading, school book by, we'll hear a light step on the stair, and sense the tension in the air, and whether welre merely curious, or really care, we'll ponder the startled question: Who can be there? And then before we can sit erect-we assure ourselves, just for effect-a smiling face peeps through the door, an enlivening spirit, and something more 3 two keen bright eyes detect our blank surprise, and as we strive, in vain, to comprehend, a soft, vibrating voice does a message send of new encouragement to every Class, and good advice for each school-girl lass g words of praise for work well done, a spirit of battle for merit, as yet, unwon. And through our weary school-girl brain there flashes this enlivening strain: Do not stare up the steps of success, but step up the stairs. Is there any influence- anywhere-so great as a visit from our Superintendent? And then in the presence which seemed so impendent, we found a blessing in disguise, for did We not merit by our sur- prise? Then rose every blue-eyed and brown-eyed, and grey-eyed bandetta, and chorused in glee, Good Afternoon, Sister Mary Loretta! ' DoRoTHY ERNSDORFF, '24.

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T H E A U R O R A Twenty-seven I started to descend the steep mountainside, but the hand of my escort stopped me. He pointed to a large group of souls far below us. There was one lagging behind, who seemed too faint to keep up with the crowd. As I gazed, she' turned her face towards me. Was it possible? Was that Marcella? The voice of Minos boomed out, She led in her studies on earth, but here, she will ever follow!!' My heart was as lead. I sat on a jagged rock, and buried my' face in.my. hands. Hark! What was that? I raised my head and listened. Some one was yelling in loud, harsh tones. I looked to my guide for explanation. That, said he, is Pauline Doan. During her lifetime she was too silent, too quiet. Now she is doomed to create noise. From midnight to morning, she sings, from morning to noon, she yells 5 from noon 'till night, she howls and cries. Just then, a running figure hove into sight. It was an old, old inan, bearing a scythe. His long gray hair was floating in the wind, a11d the banner 'round his neck was stream- ing behind him.. A second figure appeared in hot pursuit. Red hair, blue eyes-why, it was Urusula-chasing Father Time! Until the Day of Judgment, that shall be her penance, said the Grim Judge, for at school, she was ever making up time. I looked into the valley below me. Suddenly I spied a dancing, noisy, bustling crowd. They surrounded a pitious little spirit with hands clapped over her ears. Even at that distance, I recognized the long black hair of Lois Brandt. Poor Lois! She was suffering the penalty of her retiring nature. I My gaze wandered to the farthest corner of the valley. There I saw a peculiar sight. A thousand, nay, an hundred thousand chairs, enclosed by a wall of flames, were visible, row on row. But only one solitary soul was in sight. Silent and alone, that person must wait for the Day of Reckoning, possessed by a horror of being late for judgment. Tardiness ne'er goes unpunishedf' Minos paused. You do not recognize-? Not Angela Massoth? I gasped. Angela I Slowly, and with my eyes gazing into space, I again started down the rocky side of the Mountain of Cleansing. Before I could realize what was happening, I had come in violent contact with the earth. I looked behind me to see what had caused me to trip and fall. I beheld a literal labyrinth of bright pink ribbons stretched from rock to tree. and from tree to rock. In the midst, was a red-headed, unsmiling soul trying, in vain, to extricate herself from her purgatorial net. The harsh voice of Minos whipped her like a lash- Yvonne Dulude, such is your punishment for vain pride. As an earth creature you shunned pink as a leper 5 as a suffering soul, pink shall ever repose upon the red of your hair! ' . Minos beckoned, and once more, we hurried down the steep slope. As we passed a towering, cliff-like rock, I became aware of a peculiar sound. Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! Minos pointed to a cave-like opening in the side of the cliff. On the walls, protruding from the crevices, and suspended in the entrance, were pictures of S. J. A. In the midst of them, was someone pacing, pacing, pacing. I raised my voice and called, Leona! oh, Leona! A - She made not a sound, but kept on walking, walking, as though she had not heard me. When a Sophomore, said Minos, she was not satisfied with S. J. A., but left it to spend a school term in Seattle. Now, for all eternity, she shall pace in sight of S. J. A., and never, never, never, be able to enterits hallowed halls! In a few moments, we had again reached the Valley of Shadows. Soon we faced the wall of fire, and sought the fiery gate, through which we might pass into the Dens of Dark- ness. But someone was crouching in the gateway. A dull, monotonous voice droned- 1000-2000-3000- Who is that? I tremblingly asked my guide. Just then the figure raised her eyes to mine in an unseeing stare. Genevieve Fortier. Could it be?

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T H E A U R O R A T wenly-nine MAKE YQUR DAY BEAUTIFUL AND YQUR SUNSET WILL BE GLORIOUSH The dark shades of night are rapidly dispersing. The morning star proclaims the coming of the dawn. Slowly from I the eastern gate Where the great sun beams his state, Robed in jtames and amber light, over the awakened mountains, the sun-beams come, and freshening breezes kiss the mellow land already touched with green, and gold, and red. In the orchards the fruit trees, awakened by the gentle zephyrs. f morn, flutter and spread a wealth of damask petals at their feet, and tangled vines andgbending grass glisten and sparkle as the sunlight touches their burden of last-evening's dew. In their nests in the tree-tops the birds have sprung to life and joy. Now a twitter here, a chirping there, and then is heard the sweet and full-throated song of a million awakening songsters. Eternal morning has broken over crag and chasm, over hill and vale, and surging roseate clouds sway to and fro, move backward and foreward like so many enthusiastic spectators. It is sunrise on God's fair earth. All day Aurora holds her course. One by one the brave lines of the mountain ap- pear, a hundred sparkling rivulets glisten on hillside and dale. Every flower and bud and bird has drank of the crystal water, and all things arise and shine in the light of God's gaze, the glorious fullness of day. The hours speed on, evening approaches, the goal becomes nearer, the speed slackens. With one last plunge, Apollo, flashing and re- splendent, reaches the goal, yet lingeringly he departs. We have witnessed the splendor of the setting sun. We have watched the golden orb sink beyond the mountain's crest. We have seen gold and red, amethyst and opal blend into the twilight shades, and we know that a beautiful day has ended in a glorious sunset. And so it is in life. If we make our day of life beautiful, then no matter when our sun on its course sinks to rest, its setting will be truly glorious. In virtue of our inherit- ance of intelligence and character, we can make of our lives just what we wish. God has given us faith in the worth of life, and the means to attain our eternal destination, Heaven. It is true that on the brightest day, the sky for a time may be cloudtlecked, but beyond the cloud the sun is ever shining. Be it ours, then, to pierce beyond the gloom of baffled purposes and shattered dreams, and find the sunlight. In the spiritual day, grace is the sun, conscience the echo of God's will to us, the power which disperses the clouds of pain and sorrow. Upon the sun of our spiritual life, faith, hope, and charity wait, while intellect, and free-will attend. The sun glistens on every pathway, so that none is dark unless we do not wish to peer beyond the shadow. How are we to make our day beautiful? It is only by cultivating the full-and high art of right living. Every soul is born for a well-defied end, and the human heart knows neither rest nor happiness until it reaches this end. Therefore it is, that a St. Augustine will cry out from the depth of his experience: Lord, Thou. has made as for Thyself, and our heart I s restless until it repose in Thee. A true woman must lead the higher life of the soul. The Christian ideal is moral worth, and the followers of Christ must place God and duty before everything. It is not the great things that aid us in living rightly, but the right accomplishment of every task God sets before us. Let us call the accomplishment of each and every task t'Fidelity.'l Fidelity, then, is a soaring drudge, a free spirit working like a bond slave, it is a part of heaven and earth. In short, fidelity is the spirit of work, but work joyfully done. The faithful woman seeks to make her own life unselfish and fragrant with kindliness. Then in calm patience, and the strength of God, she seeks to draw other lives to nobler things, to more beautiful days. She sees the good of all that is, and the beauty of the lessons of life, displayed in Nature.