St Joseph Academy - Sajoscript Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

Page 67 text:

SANDALPHON As Mother was the joy of my cradle days so God grant she may be near me in all the little and big events of life. Dear Mother in your loving arms My childish woes were blest, Now years have gone, and still I come To your dear arms to rest. Home , DIARY JANE JUNK Fourth, Intermediate N READING the Man NVithout a Country it occurred to me how well Philip Nolan must have learned what home really means. Home is a place where love and happiness reign supreme. One who is obliged to absent himself from loved ones for some time, learns to appreciate a good home. A traveling man experiences a thrill of joy when his business trip is ended and he is about to return to his much loved home and dear ones. Home to the laborer is a place of rest and comfort, and the fatigue and weariness which he felt at the close of his day's work turn into pleasure, as he returns to his humble little home, receives a warm welcome from his wife and good children, and sees the unselfishness and appreciation of one toward another, as the little family gathers around the evening iireside .in winter, or comfortably groups itself on the pleasant piazza Cn a long summer evening. Love, which no artist can paint, is the chief quality which makes the home happy. With love must be united congeniality, good will toward one a.nothcr, and co-operation with, and appreciation of one another. A true lover of home will ind comfort in the lines: Though lonely the waizderer may deport, Aml for his footsteps may room, He clasps the closer to his heart The image of his home. My lcleal' Girl FARRELL BECK Fourth Intermediate Y IDEAL girl is of a refined and cultivated character, ever ready to help others and always grateful for favors bestowed. I-Ier first love is for God, then for her parents to whom she gives an implicit obedience. She is ever polite and respectful, and dees not go out into the highways to pick her friends, but chooses them carefully from among her acquaintances. My ideal girl is thoroughly good, and her sprightliness, and amiable disposition are the keys to everyone's heart. She is, indeed, human, therefore she has faults, but the graciousness with which she receives correction helps her over many rough and treublesoire paths. Her consideration for others makes her ever alert to give a helping hand. My ideal girl may not be so beautiful in face and feature, but the love and contentment which radiate from her countenance, and tl'e virtues of her daily life, so like those practiced by our Blessed Lady, superlatively enhance her beauty. Thus my ideal girl is one who would win a lasting place in the hearts of all. page sixty-five

Page 66 text:

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

Page 68 text:

S A N D A L P H 0 N Be Your Own Master RUTH NYE First lilictorie large white mount, hanging in a classroom of St. Joseph Academy, bore the inscription, Hlie Your Own Masterf! Ilelen looked up at it in a 'puzzled manner and said to herself, 'fWell, I do try to be 1ny own master, but sometimes,-5well, sometimes I just forget. It just seems as if all those letters have eyes and are looking at me all day. And, here I am right now, not doing my own work. Oh, dear, will I ever remember to do the right thing? llark! Sister is coming. June examinations were coming fast tllltl most of the girls were rather nervous. llelen was especially so. She remembered that once she had copied from another girl and her answer was wrong. No one had noticed it but she never felt just right about it afterward. The examination in Religion was first and Ilelen finished that without even glancing at another girl 's paper. But!-when llistory came! Oh! Ilelen never had such a shock in all her life. That fifth question! 'Why, it seemed as if she had never studied one of those topics before. A girl who was considered a little bit brighter in llistory than the other girls, sat very near her, and when Ilelen shot a knowing glance to her, the reward was a slip of paper containing the answer to that detested fifth question. The paper was all wadded up, but some- thing seemed to prompt Ilelen not to look at it. She glanced up and the card Be Your Own Master glared at her. She quickly tore up that tempting paper while she murmured a little prayer. The answer which Helen believed to be right now came to her mind. She wrote it, then finished the rest of the questions. She handed her paper-in and never felt more relieved i11 her life, at least, never after an examination. About a week later there was great commotion in the corridor. No wonder! The percents for the llistory examination were on the bulletin board. Ilelen ran down stairs as fast as she could, though in her heart lurked a great fear. She looked at the percents and there heading the list was-her name! Ilow could it be? Ilelen was dazed. Ninety-eight percent! Now she looked for the other girls' names, and Mary Studer's, that of the girl who had given her the fifth answer, was away down the column. Mary came up to her and said: How is it that you are first? Your fifth answer was exactly like mine. Ilelen answered, No, it could not have been. I didn't even look at the paper you passed me. I wrote my own answer. Ma1'y and IIele11 went back to the classroom. Ilelen, glancing up at a certain large cardboard, said: That's what warned me not to copy your answer. 'tlie Your Own Master, said Ilelen to herself. Truly, to conquer self means more than I ever realized. S af iM Ng - - as-fr - - iii. mdonfwru M- unlr T - A-lint.-Qi.J.lk SE Ll page sixty-six