St Joseph Academy - Sajoscript Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

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S A N D A L P H 0 N The Chimneys Secret IITANIE M. GRAHAM First Rhetoric T WAS late afternoon about the middle of December. A car was toiling along the road in the Adirondacks, made slippery by sleet. Twice it turned completely around and then drew up beside a cliff. 'fI'm afraid, Betsy, we won't be able to make Ticonderoga tonight, said Mr. Palmer to his young daughter on the seat beside him. Oh, Daddy! and I did want to be with mother on her birthday, cried Betsy, while a look of disappointment clouded her face. Mr. Palmer and his daughter had left Burlington, Vermont, that 1nor11- ing, had crossed Lake Champlain up near Rouses Point and were motoring to the historic town of Ticonderoga to be with Mrs. Palmer on her birthday. I know, darling, continued Mr. Pahner, I've done the best I could but if we kept on in the dark we would surely skid off the road. I propose to find some place to spend the night and go on early tomorrow morning. 4'Oh, goody! then we will be with mother about eleven tomorrow, won't we U? I'd rather do that than be killed. There, Betsy, I see a light above to our right. Maybe we can spend the night there. Let's go see. They climbed out and crawling through the wet underbrush they finally reached the house. Mr. Palmer knocked several times and presently the door opened a crack and the thin face of a middle-aged woman peered out into the gathering darkness. Good evening, said Mr. Palmer, I wonder if you would be kind enough to give my daughter and me some supper and rooms? He explained their situation. lVaal, said the woman, I don't know wether I kin do it or not. But I reckon I kin if you all don't mind sleepin' i11 cold rooms, 'cause we ain't got no fire in the house. Anything will be all right, Mr. Palmer said. The door opened wider and as they came into a cold, cheerless room, two figures, that of a. girl about fifteen, Betsy 's own age, and that of an older woman, arose. This here is my mother and my daughter Lucy, my name's Mrs. Haley. Lucy, show this young lady to your room so she can clean up a bit for supper. Iiucy motioned Betsy to follow her. After supper, Betsy and her father were shown upstairs to two very large rooms. Betsy chose the one she Wanted and her father took the other one across the hall. Betsy's room had a large old fashioned fireplace in it and many times while she was undressing she wished there were a large fire burning there. About midnight Betsy awoke. For awhile she could not imagine where she was, then suddenly she remembered. At the same time a strange rustling sound came to her from the direction of the fireplace. Maybe, she thought, itis a burglar. She looked, hardly daring to breathe. It stopped for awhile, then continued. Meanwhile, Betsy sat up in bed. It sounded exactly as if someone were coming down that chimney. She could hear him breathing, and several times she heard some plaster fall in the fireplace. Betsy grew colder and colder, her heart beat harder and harder. Finally she could stand it no longer. . She gave one loud, Daddy! and ducked under the covers. .Instantly her father was at her side asking what was the matter. page sixty-three

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S A N D A L P II 0 N On Being Cl Freshman R-ICGINA RoAN First lllietorfie ES, they do eull us fri-shies when speuking of us, und ure ulwuys euger to luugh ut our mistukes. Only too reudily do we sense the condeseension they ussnme when they eonverse with us. Hut, do we feel quite sorry l'or ourselves? Ur do we enjoy their would-he teusing? Ah! thut seems to he the hurning question. l'is true, perhups, their prunks und jokes hore us for the time heing, hut utter uwhile, I think we ull ehuekle inwardly, at the thought, thut so mueh time is heing wusted upo11 us. Do we enjoy being fresh- men? Wellfeufter pondering u few moments, l suy Yes We enjoy suy- ing Ulfirst Yeur of lligh, pleuse! i11 unswer to the inquiry, mln whut grude ure youll' Uh! we ure foolish little muidens striving to elimh frivolity's highest peak. lJon't eensure us, pleuse, hut look heyond und see our eurnest endeuvors. Per- hups we ure like wild eolts, without u hulter ut times, but we meun well. NVe ure striving towurd thut geul, whieh perhups some of you huve uttuined this yeur, und others will reueh in the yeurs to follow. llememher, you eunnot tuke two steps without tuking one tirst, so we huve to go through the freshman class to hegin our progress towurd higher elusses. So heur ye, ull who reeeive the sheep-skin this yeur, we 'tfrt-shies eon- grutulute you heurtily und trust thut the yeurs to eome muy tind us ull true, loyul, fuithfnl duughters ef our Almu liluter, Notre Dame. The Little Brown Gate CARYI, Co1cnn'1 1' First lfllelerie 'l' is only u hrown gute in the eonvent gurden wull hetween the old und the new ueudemies. llow strunge thut u simple wooden gute should make sueh un uppeul to the heurt of the sehool girl who pusses heyond its portull New girls entering it for the Iirst time reulixe thut us the little hrown gute eloses they ure in un utmosphere thut eontrusts X We strungely with the noisy, husy world without. As the iron spikes strengthen the gute, so, too, duily duties help the girls to form their ehur- ueters for greuter things' Huy utter duy the little hrown gute opens to them, und eurly und lute its eheery eliek muy he heurd. But it is u sud eliek thut sounds when the gruduute eloses it for the lust time. Does she not hold long to the luteh, und for u few moments gum' down the puth of memory to find neur the end the first eliek of the little hrown gute? 'l'o remuin in this huppy, little World of gentle Nuns und joyful sehoolmutes, muy he her wish, hut no, she must go forward to pruetiee the 5 lessons she hus leurned behind thut little t , brown gute. page sixty-two

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SANDALPIION The chimney, said Betsy, and disappeared again. 'What about the chimney? asked her father. Ile just llliille out the word Burglars from under the covers. Betsy, said her father, use some sense. Betsy sat up and told her father in whispers what had happened. Just as she finished, the rustling noise started in again and Betsy turned whiter, if possible. I'm going up that chimney and see what it is, said Mr. Palmer. Oh, Daddy, don't, begged Betsy, he'll drop a brick or something on your head. Th-th-the burglar, chattered poor Betsy. For this remark she received a look of disgucst. ller father lit a candle and started slowly up, Betsy wait- ing for him to fall down with a burglar in his grasp. Finally she heard a laugh and her father reappeared with a bunch of newspapers under his arm. The wind when blowing dow11 the chimney, had rustled the paper and Betsy's imagination did the rest. Mr. Palmer teased Betsy unmcrcifully, but finally took pity on her and went out. The next morning they paid Mrs. Haley after telling her the tale-everybody laughed a11d thought it funny, everybody but Betsy, and finally she, too, had to smile. 'l'hey continued on their journey and arrived in Ticonderoga. Betsy, with chattering teeth and fearful glances, still tells her schoolmates about her awful adventure. Joy of My Cradle Days EVELYN VVELDON First Rhetoric HERE is no word more beautiful, none more pure, none more lovely than that simple word Mother.,' It is enshrined in the heart and mind of all peoples. 'l'o each and every person, rich or poor, young or old, his Mother is the joy of his cradle days. Mother! that name so sacred and holy! It is the first word that comes to our lips when we are in pain and sorrow and how gratefully we should cherish it. This recalls to mind my childhood days and the love of my own dear Mother. Ilow often did I creep upon her lap coaxing and begging for a story which she could tell so beautifully, so satisfyingly. NVhat great pleasure it was for me to go with her into the garden and to carry the fragrant flowers which she had gathered and in which she took so much pride. 'l'hen in the quiet of evening when the shades of twilight were descending, I used to kneel at Mother's knee, my tiny hands clasped, a childish prayer upon my lips, my young heart and mind raised to God. I travelled off to dreamland, the sound of her sweet voice in my ear. Nor did I awaken in the morning be- fore the sunbeams sent their golden light into the nursery while the soft sum- mer breeze stirred the snowy curtains and Mother's cheery voice again glad- dened my heart. Many times I have fied to Mother in trouble and affliction, knowing that her tender heart would pour out the consolation that she only could give. My Mother is my friend, yes, my dearest, truest friend, the one who will ever stand by me, in the gladness of youth and the more serious days of womanhood. Now that I have the opportunity of attending a select school for girls and of securing a good education, I look back on those early days and have a great desire to live them again. Yet after pondering a few moments, I realize that it is good to grow older since thereby I can better appreciate Mother 's love and sacrifice. , page sixty-four