St Joseph Academy - Sajoscript Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

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SANDALPHON Dusters DoRo'r11Y YOUNG Gracluatc VERY girl and woman sometime in the course of her life has made the acquaintance of that terrible ogre of childhood, that pursuing monster of latter years-thc duster. There is the duster with a handle and the one without, the old-fashioned duster and the new-fashioned one, the gay-colored duster and the somber one, the hemmed duster and the hemless one. But of all thc various kinds of dusters, the old-fashioned duster was the dustiest. It was made of gaudy feathers and was finished with a nicely painted black handle. It usually gave the busy housewife an opportunity to 'practice Job's patience. For after a steady half hour's swing of this feathered household aid she would turn around only to find that all the molecules of dust in some surprising manner had returned, if not to their former resting place, at least to one or another in the same room. This playful characteristic of the old-fashioned duster's displaced dust was especially provoking when one was perched on the top step of a six-foot ladder dusting the top of a very dusty bookcase. Just when the patience of housewives was almost at the breaking point as the result of dust filled throats and dusted rooms as dusty as ever, the cloth duster found its way into the tool-box of many a home mechanic. Then trouble began over the question of colors. Some liked yellow dusters because they brightened the room, others declared tha.t nothing would do but black. Some preferred striped dustersg others thought that the plain ones were quite the thing. In the arguments held over the back fence or the bridge tables, age played its part. The young bride said that all her dusters, regardless of their dust- removing qualities, would have to match the new rose draperies in her brand new home, while her experienced mother liked the soft variety that would do the work, and did not consider the colors. Now in our scientific age when every day sees some new invention on the market, we have the dustless duster. Fifty washings will not take the grease and oil out of it! This new duster is an improvement on the old-fashioned one be- cause it takes up the dust and leaves a fine polish. But then there is always the reaction and the polish turns back to dust in a few hours. Why not turn back the pages of the Book of Life and read about the dusters in the sweet story of the Girl Graduate? When we look at the pictures in this wonderful book wc think, not about thc brush, but only about the artistg his skill with the brush and the harmonizing colors. So it is tha.t in the dusty every- day life, mest of us think of the individual, her ability and the brush with which she paints her picture and thus writes the story of her life. The Girl Graduate has spent many tedious hours mastering the art of dust- ing-sometimes the process was an intellectual cnc, as for example when she was preparing for an examinationg again it was a psychological one carried on in moments of introspection when she sat down to study herself in the mirror of conscience. In her life, dusters of all kinds have played an important part especially in the formation of character. The dust of pride and self-efficiency and some of that which characterized Rip Van XVinkle's attitude toward any- thing like hard work, has a strong tendency to obscure some of the finer qualities page seventy-six

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SANDALPHON Ah, good Sir, I am weary indeed. For a long time have I been journey- ing down this road. Ere I had travelled far, I fell into the hands of lordly Ambition. Ile made me his slave. I served him blindly, but finally his greed and cruelty became apparent and after a long struggle I escaped. When first I began my journey I was young and happy, but taking the wrong turning in my youthful folly, I wandered far from the King's Highway. Now that I would return I have grown so feeble that I am beginning to despair of ever arriving at the Palace of the King. The youth was touched at the words and the appearance of the man. Suddenly he was stricken with remorse for his own thoughtlessness and de- termined to atone for his folly by helping this poor wretch. Prompted by his squire, he said, You have recalled to me my knightly honor which I have so nearly lost. Come, mount behind mc and we shall turn back and seek the King before it is too late. NVhen the man had mounted they turned about and galloped up the road, with the squire beside them rejoicing. At eventide they again reached the cross-road. This time they ascended the steep and rocky path. Hot, travel-stained and weary, they suddenly came upon a sparkling stream flowing not far from the road. Dismounting to drink, they perceived fragrant flowers ef purest white growing along the wa.ter's edge. No sooner had they tasted the cooling draught then they were instantly refreshed and a new courage and strength surged in their veins. They resumed their journey and just as the twilight was deepening into darkness they arrived at the Palace of the King. The doors were open. Softest music filled the air and subdued light shone from every window in the palace. A beautiful being ushered them into the throne room where falling on their knees they paid homage to their gracious king, who was more loving, more gracious, more wonderful than even, in their wildest dreams, they had imagined. He greeted all three kindly and bade them welcome to Ilis Kingdom for- ever. And so the knight attended by his faithful squire, together with the man he had saved, dwells forever in peace and contentment in the Palace of the King. Our Lady of the Scapular DIARY lXI.xRGARET Doon Gradu atc Our classroom is the throne room Of a wond'rous presence fair, With mantle blue and face serene, And lovely golden hair. With her always is a Babe, His eyes deep, dark and tender, Sweetly resting on her arm, Wrapt in a heav'nly splendor. All through the day He tells her Of the good we chance to do And she smiles ever on us As though, all things, she knew. Who are these two? you ask me, The Babe and Beauteous One? Why-Our Lady of the Scapular And her Eternal Son. ' page seventy-live

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SANDALPHON that lie deep in every true girl 's heart. This dust she has learned to re111ove by victory over self in the battles of everyday life. This method of dusting she learned ver earl . The luije of Zi spring day a11d a burning desire for a long skate through the park wa.s often almest too much for the seven-year-old Miss, especially when the task confronting her was nothing more tl1an dusting a few chairs! But under the care and guidance of that loving taskmistress HlXlothcr she improved little by little as the years went by. Most of her years have been spent in school. Ilere, too, there were those who dusted, the dusters and the dust. The largest and noblest duster in the room was always Sister, She helped to keep the chalk dust out of every girl 's eye! Now when we, the class of '26, think of inventing a new duster to eliminate some of this glorious dust around us we feel that we can depend on necessity to help us out. The failure of the dustless duster only encourages ns, for after all the dust is always with us even in tl1e brightest ray of the sun. My Mother lllARY IXIARGARET DoDD Graduate My mother! the words are a hymn to me, A prayer that I love to sayg In eadenees, soft and sweet and low It falls from my lips each day. Her eyes are just like deep-set pools, Of rippling laughing watery I hear the beat of an angel 's wings When I hear my m0ther's laughter. My n1other! so sweet and dear and good, God loves her full well, I know, Oh never shall I be half so good, No matter how good I grow. Though I search the whole world, far and wide I shall never find another, Who can ever equal or measure up To the angel God gave me-My Mother. D3ge SeV8l'ltY-SEVEII