University of California Los Angeles - Bruin Life / Southern Campus Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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BLUE MONDAY. Monday ' s the bluest day of all. Whether skies are sunny or rain doth fai! ; Never a Monday lesson !5 learned : Never a word of praise is earned. Pencils are broken, and books are lost : Fears of e.xaminations nccost. Things are forgotten and all goes wrong. Monday ' s a wearisome day. and long. We cannot study on Friday night. By Monday all is forgotten, finite : Saturday is our holiday, . 11 cares for the hour are cast away. Our Sunday training would never admit Of study, or anything like to it. So Monday ' s lessons must go unread; Commendations remain unsaid. Nothing moves smoothly, all goes wrong, Monday, alas ! grows w ' eary and long. But an old law says, what can ' t be cured Will best be quietly endured. So we scramble for books that have gone astray. Borrow a pencil, and go our way. For. though each week brings a Monday blue. It carries a roseate Friday, too. Jessie Lewis. 0 v. W Vit iuvv ' )c ,c 5,Vi ] niiu uoi» o. ' ,o yn-dsiMV

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THE JUDGE ' S DECISION. It was a glorious June day, bright, fragrant, musical. The woods were full of life and movement. A squirrel darted down one tree and up another. Rabbits whisked through the new undergrowth. Birds caroled merrily in the leafy foliage over- head. At the foot of a huge walnut tree stood a tall, heavy-set man whose dress and bearing proclaimed him city bred. His face, stern and uncompromising as that of a great judge usually is, was relaxed for a moment in a smile ; his keen eyes were softened by the glow of pleasant memories as he stood looking into a little clearing at a rough log school house, whose open windows and door proclaimed that school kept. Just as I remember it, the Judge mused. Xot a blade of grass different from forty years ago. I suppose inside it s just the same. too. I must go in. He drew the picture in his own mind — the cracked green- ish blackboards covered with rude sketches ; the long, knife- scarred forms in which six or eight boys could sit at once and enjoy themselves: the placid teacher listening sleepily to a row of bare-legged youngsters spellin ' down or stum bling over their letters in turn. How it all came back to him ' He alone was changed. He fell to wondering what had bcci)me of the others — Jim mie and Walter and Tad — and Sallie. .Sallie! He had not thought of her for years. He wondered if he could find their old trysting place after all this time. Yes, here was the little foot-path still : and he followed it, coming upon the place sooner than he had expected. Tt was a bit of open ground by the side of the sleepy little river, just as he had left it; and — yes, there was the hollow tree. He cautiously put his hand inside, smiling at the act. -%L I say, what yer doin ' in that tree? The Judge turned sharply around and to his consternation beheld a small boy sitting on the stump of a tree overhanging the river and holding a fishing pole in one hand and an apple in the other. W hy, I was — merely investigating, the man answered uith some annisement. I — I — Why? Oh, I put — put — things there sometimes the boy ex- plained, swinging his bare legs uneasily. 1 he Judge looked at him in silence. The picture was com- plete. The boy might be himself of forty years ago. He felt a desire to talk with him but he could not think of any- thing to say but What are you doing here at this time of day? You ought to be in school. — which he felt was not exactly a propitious remark, calculated to insure him in the ' boy ' s esteem. I ' m a-ii-hin ' . answered the boy. with such an innocent, straight-forward look on his freckled face that the Judge nearly laughed aloud. -A wave of sympathy swept over him. He seated himself on a stump and smiled at the boy. You ' re incidentally ' playing hookey. aren ' t you? he queried. Yep. answered the boy defiantly, between bites of the apple. Guess you ' d play it too. if you had to go to school over there. It ' s awful slow. I ' ve done it many a time. began the Judge. I used to go to school over there and — Did ye? Honest? Cracky! How long ago? Forty years. Seems like a life time, doesn ' t it. said the