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

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LITERARY A LEGEND OF LOS ANGELES. AMONG the many charming tales concerning the early days of our now thriving and busy city, that which takes one back to the very founding of the httle pueblo perhaps brings to us most of the atmosphere of romance, which we find in all the legends of the sunny land of Spam. For the beginning of our story, we must go to the little city of Granada, the home of poetry and legends, where the long summer days and the brown hills are so much like our own. Granada lies m a valley, much as our own city does, with rugged, snow-capped mountains far in the distance. Back of the city rises a steep hill, which is crowned by the Alhambra, made famous by our writer, Washington Irving. One day, in the heat of the summer, a soldier from the city garrison wandered up the hillside to rest in the shade of the trees which clustered on the slope. Here was a cool nook, sheltered from the noonday heat, where he could lie in the grass and gaze down into the valley where the little town nestled at the foot of the hill, the glare on its red-tiled roofs making a red glow in the summer haze. Far across the brown valley the mountains loomed dim and indistinct in the distance, here and there a snowy peak seeming only to emphasize the heat and sultriness. After a time the city, lying there so sleepily in the sun, grew less distinct m its outlines, the mountains faded away, and finally even the fitful murmur of the summer breeze among the leaves was hushed. The cavalier was suddenly aware of a presence — a vision, the like of which he had never seen before. As he gazed in wonderment, the shining spirit said, Be not afraid. I have come to make you my messenger, that you may do me a great service. And then he saw that the glorious vision was none other than the Blessed Virgin, worshipped and loved by all. He was still too astonished to answer, and again he heard the sweet voice, like the chiming of silver bells. The Queen of Heaven told him how he should come after many years to a land as fair as Granada, where he should find the same broad, brown valley, with the sloping hills and the snow-topped mountains far in the distance. Here, in this beautiful land, which shall be one of the glories of Spain, you shall found a city and name it in honor of me, that all may know and love me. The glorious light faded and the sweet voice died away. Our

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AUTUMN DAYS. The haze is on the woodland In the hush of Autumn ' s rest; Lingering Summer, long delaying. Bends her golden head, fast fading To the cold of Winter ' s breast. My heart grows wistful, tender. As its passion turns to haze Near the World ' s unpitying coldness. Where there blow m sweepmg boldness Wmds of Purpose through the days. The haze is on the woodland When the glow of summer fades; Dymg IS the wildflowers ' fragrance As the grey mist creeps in silence O ' er the wmdmg streams and glades. The shadows now are creeping O ' er grey hills and vales of mine; Youth ' s impatience, taught by sorrow. Musing dreams of brighter morrow. Glowing with fire of Truth divine. The haze is on the woodland. Nature ' s hills are dark and cold. Only in the glow of sunset Is return of joy foretold. My soul is peaceful, waiting. Love ' s joy a calm doth bring Sweeter far than gladdest tidings Brought by harbingers of Spring. I. G., ' 07. 24

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cavalier awoke to find himself alone on the hillside in the shade of the rustling trees. Many years passed, and the Spanish armies were sent here and there to many parts of the world, gaining new glories for Spain. It happened that our soldier was sent with his company to the new country over the seas, the land vhich ve know as California. Here the soldiers were to aid the earnest priests who labored to convert the Indians. In a bread, brcwn valley near the southern coast, a little mission church was built and dedicated to San Gabriel. Here the Indians were gathered to be taught to love the right, and to care for the vineyards and the grain fields. One hot summer day the cavalier, riding home to the mission after a long gallop on the plain, threw himself down to rest in the shade of a tree on the hillside. He lay there with half-closed eyes, looking up at the clear, blue sky above, and he was reminded of his native country and of the vision he had beheld on a day so like this one. He seemed to see again the mountains far off in the distance, and down below him the roofs of the city seemed to glov in the hot sun. Then he opened his eyes and saw truly what he had imagined. Off to his left rose the mountains, with here and there a white-capped peak. Here were the same blue skies — here the same steep hillside, and at its foot lay the broad, brown plain. Fie knew then that he had found, after his long wanderings, the land of his vision. He rode back in haste to the missi on and told the good padres and his comrades of his vision, and persuaded a small company of his fellow soldiers to go back to the spot he had found and make their permanent quarters there. As the years passed by, others came and settled near them. With the help of the Indians, they built the little mission church at the Plaza. If you will go down there and climb the hill behind it, you, too, may see what the Spanish soldier saw that August day so many years ago. Thus it was that so fair a spot was selected for our city, and so it came about that this busy, flourishing city bears still the name of the little pueblo of the days of long ago — la Pueblo de nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles, the City of our Lady the Queen of the Angels. G. Phelps. A WARNING TO THE YOUNG FOLKS. There, little Junior B, don ' t fret; They have broken your hopes, I know. And your dreams sublime 26