. Silver jubilee memorial, 1868-93. umptuous repaststo be partaken of in true picnic style. Still farther is the Grotto ofOur Lady of Lourdes with roses clambering over its mimic rocks andfrom her niche in the rock over head, our Holy Mother seems toinvoke a blessing on all who kneel at her shrine. But what shady nook is that we see? Tis the Rustic Seatso well beloved by all the girls. Let us rest beneath the cool shadeof the overhanging pepper tree and await the return of the merryboaters, the dripping of whose oars is now plainly heard. Ah! beautiful home, would that Time and Youth could eve
. Silver jubilee memorial, 1868-93. umptuous repaststo be partaken of in true picnic style. Still farther is the Grotto ofOur Lady of Lourdes with roses clambering over its mimic rocks andfrom her niche in the rock over head, our Holy Mother seems toinvoke a blessing on all who kneel at her shrine. But what shady nook is that we see? Tis the Rustic Seatso well beloved by all the girls. Let us rest beneath the cool shadeof the overhanging pepper tree and await the return of the merryboaters, the dripping of whose oars is now plainly heard. Ah! beautiful home, would that Time and Youth could everlinger within thy pleasant shades! But change, ruthless change,calls many from thy fold. We, too, one day will have to leave thee,to leave forevermore thy sunny bowers, thy dear old walks by the lake-side, thy loved haunts, thy sweet associations, thy dear and happyinmates. But ever in our hearts will we cherish a fond remem-brance of the home of our school-days. Kate of our Ladi/ of the Sacred Heart, Oakland, -/ IB^i j^ph ©[7® gepviec of F^eli^ioo Artists are nearest to God. Into their souls He breathes His life, and from their handsIt comes in fair articulate formsTo bless the world. God is infinite truth and perfect beauty, ^^itllout the existenceof God as infinite truth, science is impossible, for it can never bewell grounded, unless it rests upon the eternal and first cause. Asperfect beauty, God is the ideal of the soul in every conception ofart. There is in man a memory of the perfection with which hewas sent forth from the hands of his Creator ; there is also a crav-ing to fashion himself after a picture of his imagination conformableto the idea he possesses of the beautiful—a type combining the firstand last excellence of being ; which it is his to enjoy, since he hasa conception of it, and to which he ought to be able to arrive, sincehe aspires towards it. Thus from remembrance and a feeling of ahereafter is born poetry, is born art ; the ex
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidjubileemem00, bookyear1893
