St Rose Academy - Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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GOLD AND WHITE quake. He alone had escaped and all that he had rescued from the ruined city was the statue of his Lord. The Faith of Christ had been brought to Zola's predecessors over a century before by a zealous missionary. It had been pre- served and cherished, handed from father to son. The people were very fer- vent as the martyrdom of their last descendant testifies. Zola had fled when his city was destroyed and after a While he came to Antara Where he made his home. For months the boy had venerated his God in his homely natural shrine apart from all eyes, but never before had he practised his devotions on the feast of the idol, Juggernaut. If one should wonder what prayer the boy said every day under the tree and if he could find out he would learn that Zola besought his God to accept from him the greatest gift his little heart could offer. He Wanted to go with his own people and he had asked his God not to tarry but to take him where his brothers and sisters had gone. And on this day his God had heard his prayer. id W aiting By KATHERINE lVlCCORMlCK O summer, sunny summer Time of all the year I'Ue waited and I'Ue waited For your beauty to draw near. I long to hear your chirping birds I long to hear them sing I'ue waited through the winter For the gladness you will bring. O summer, when you really come How happy I shall be For winter will have really gone When you come back to me. if To A Lake By GERTRUDE FITZPATRICK Iridescent beauty Cool and shining Mirror, reflecting Birds, as they fly. Little, nameless, Blue-green lake. Has no one broken Your stillness but If Forty-one

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1-l--wtf GOLD AND WHITE yy--- -T A Boy Of India By DOROTHY DILLON N THE far off land of lndia, in the section called Hindustan, there was a secluded village which bordered on a small tributary of the River Cham- bal. Antara was not a large settlement but it was the abode of a happy race, whose people lived honestly by raising crops, and righteously, they thought, by worshipping their god, Juggernaut. The dwellings of Antara were arranged in a circular form, and in the cen- ter of the enclosure made by them was the large open shrine of their idol. His statue was placed in the middle of the village because the god was the center of the lives of the inhabitants, This city flourished many years ago and the people rendered homage to their god in strange ceremonies. For instance, the mouth of the statue was open and inside was a blazing furnace. The people thought that if they fed human beings to the Juggernaut the good will of the god would be maintained. Now it was the feast of the Lord of the World, as the name of the idol means. This was the day of days for the peaceful Indian village, and brown- skinned people came from their homes, from their shops, from everywhere to celebrate the feast of the Great God. Every inhabitant came to the service- that is, all, save one. The exception was a boy who could have been found engaged in deep prayer. His small brown hands were joined: his sparkling eyes were fixed upon a little statue for which an altar had been made in a niche in the heart of a tree. There under the peaceful shelter of a semi-tropical banyan tree the boy adored his God, with the little image before him to remind him of the One to whom he prayed. In the religious settlements of Antara a sin against the idol was a crime against the ruler, punishable by whatever the high priest desired. Sentinels were sent out on this day to see that everyone attended the festivities of the occasion. Anyone found absent would be the most contemptible of beings to the rest of the people of the village. ln the course of his inquiry, the ruler's deputies chanced to extend their search to the outlying district, and as Fate would have it, they came upon the boy, Zola, in his devotions. One of them seized the lad and demanded how he dared to kneel to a deity other than Jug- gernaut. The boy remained silent for there was nothing he could say-noth- ing that the man would understand. When the people heard the story of Zola's unfaithfulness they were out- raged. The high priest decreed that nothing would appease the wrath of the Lord of the World other than the boy's death. The people all began beating Zola with clubs until he fell exhausted to the ground. The boy had clutched the image of his God to his bosom all during his trials. When given a chance to repent by making an offering of his statue to the idol, he refused. The pontiff thereupon decided that the boy himself would be the offering, to be fed into the furnace of the god. But before this could be brought about the people had beaten the life out of the little body. The boy, Zola. did not belong to the tribe of the people of the village but he had been the last of a tribe whose city had been annihilated by an earth- Forlu

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-+----I-if G o L D A N D W HIT E y3+---?---- On Eating Cream Puffs By GRETCHEN LINS HIS is an age of experiments, of breaking records, of adventure, and, let me say now and forever, an age of specialism and individuality. - '- Everywhere you go you will meet people who are struggling to make a name for themselves in their particular line, no matter whether this be avia- tion, medicine, flag-pole sitting, roller-skating or-what you will. It is every bit as important for the flag-pole sitter to make the world's endurance record as it is for the aviator to make a world flight-in the estima- tion of the individual. That is why I contend that my friends are narrow- minded and prejudiced when they laugh at what seems to me, not only one of the most difficult and prodigious feats possible but also, unhappily, one of the most ignored. Every day you may read in the newspaper about some man going on a hunting trip to Africa or about some expedition being started to save the souls of the poor, neglected Fiji Islanders, but I ask you, have you ever heard of a cream-puff eating contest? Now please, above all things, do not misunder- stand me. I do not mean-I state this emphatically so that there may he no room for doubt-that this contest is to decide who can eat the most cream puffs. That is too easy. Any properly brought up boy, given a sufficient amount, could dispose of enough to make you feel quite weak and depressed. What I do mean, is a contest to determine who can dispose of a cream puff in the cleanest, the most dexterous and yet the most artistic manner. You may think this easy but I warn you right now it is not. I, myself, have labored for years, and have, after much weary and disheartening practise only suc- ceeded in reaching the fairly clean stage, but as I look back on my first attempts I am able to smile reminiscently and pat myself on the back for I know that I have progressed rather successfully. When I started out I was like all amateurs, rash and apt to be hasty. I laughed at any idea of failure, scoffed at any warnings and dared-yes, actually dared-one day to order a cream puff in a restaurant. When the waiter re- turned with my order and placed it in front of me I noticed that my com- panion gazed upon me as if hypnotized. Notwithstanding, I nonchalantly raised the cream puff in my fingers and bit absent-mindedly into the luscious morsel. Then, and not till then, did I realize that Fate, so kind in the past, had turned like the proverbial worm and had planned to humiliate me before my friends. I will pass over this tragedy: it is too painful a subject for analy- sis. I will pass on to the happier days-to that time when I triumphantly ate a whole cream puff without a drop of cream descending upon my chin or dropping down my collar. I feel it is only fair, however, to tell you that I did have a stiff neck for a week, the consequence of stretching around the edge of the cream puff after the cream which would insist on oozing out. But this is only a minor detail and I am happy now, for whatever I may have suffered is doubly repaid by my present satisfaction in my achievement. The only thing I cannot understand is why more interest is not taken in this-which I consider one of the supreme accomplishments of a cultured lady. Forfy-Iwfw