Central Catholic High School - Echo Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

 - Class of 1916

Page 26 of 182

 

Central Catholic High School - Echo Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN) online collection, 1916 Edition, Page 26 of 182
Page 26 of 182



Central Catholic High School - Echo Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN) online collection, 1916 Edition, Page 25
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Page 26 text:

---. rr-1-'g 1- -H-v vw-- 20 CENTRAL CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL ECHO kidding simleon her motherly face. She probably has, answered Austin, blush- ing slightly at the insinuation. Futh-er conversation was interrupted when Gladys' silvery voice was heard as she came down stairs singing, There'll be a Jubilee in My Old Kentucky Home. As she stopped sing- ing, she called out, Come on, Austin Dear, Itm ready. V As they left the house, Mrs. Dexter bade them both good night and added, Don't be out too late, Gladys. No fear, mother, Austin will take good care of me. Three-quarters of an hour later the young couple were walking up the steps of the Coun- try Club where they were to attend a dance. The evening was progressing rapidly and everyone was having the time of his life. The delightful rag-time music ut all in the highest of spirits. It was about 11:50 P. M. The orchestra was just coming to the close of the Pigeon Walk, and all were interested in a lively Fox Trot. The end of the dance found Austin and Gladys at the extreme end of the ball- room, both standing near a pillar. As Austin for the thirteenth time that evening turned that one central thought over in his mind, he iinally determined to ask Gladys to dance through life with him. Yes, he was going to propose on that very spotg yes, that very instant. But alas! his courage failed him. Gladys read his mind and fully understood his feelings, so she strove to help him out, by saying: My Austin, this floor is terribly slippery! it is almost impos- sible for one to stand alone, don't you think so? Yes, it is, he answered. Let's sit down. Gladys was mortiiied to death and mumbled, Nobody home. What's that, dear? he said quickly. -66011, nothing! I said I was sick and wished to be taken home. Certainly, I'll call the taxi. Gladys arrived once more at her home, and after a short good-night to Austin, hurried to her room. Once inside, she threw herself on the foot of her bed and sighed deeply. To think, she said, that I came so near going through life with such a numskull! CATHOLIC WRITERS 1 By Paul J. Foohey, '16, 11.-John Boyle otneniy. O Drogheda is a little seaport town of Ireland. It has had a most 'exciting history, being the scene of numerous battles betw-een Irish patriots and English oppressors. It is but a short distance from the site .of the famous Battle of the Boyne. Its memories and vicis- situdes have sunk deep in the hearts of the Irish people, and as the children. grow 'to manhood and learn the story of their grand- sires' struggles for freedom they are Hred with indignation. They must wield the pen- or sword in Ireland's cause. And so when the Fenian revolutionary spirit reached Drogheda, a young enthusiastic Irishman joined the ranks' of the Fenian Brotherhood. Today we honor this rebel Fenian as a great American poet. John Boyle O'Reilly was born June 24 at Douth Castle, Drogheda. At an early age he showed indications of his future greatness. His literary tastes were encouraged by his parents. His father, David O'Reilly, was prin- cipal of the National school which his son at- tended. After young O'Reilly's school days were over he became a printer on the staff of the Drogheda Argus. Later he became identified with the Guardian, It was here that he Hrst came to love newspaper work- the work to which he was destined to devote the last twenty years of his life. But a Fenian, even a literary one, was not relished by the English authorities in those days. X O'Reilly had preferred 'the Fenian Brotherhood to the 10th Hussars, and for such preference he was sentenced to twenty years penal servitude in Australia. ' During the days of his confinement he com- posed some of the most beautiful and touching poems. His temperament was poetic and re- ligious, and misfortune was necessary to in- spire him to greater work. His genius could not be restrained by lack of ink and paper. With a rusty nail he wrote his verses on the walls of his cell. . V In 1869, under the direction of the Clan-na- Gael, the captain of a whaling vessel from New Bedford, Mass., rescued O'Reilly and brought him to our shores, ,adding another light to our literary altar. He settled in Bos- ton, and became editor of the Pilot in 1870. L 4 . ., A .

Page 25 text:

T 'T1i'Y 1' ' ' CENTRAL CATHOLIC my uncailled for delay. Won't you, Austin Dear? s ' ' ' This town is getting to be so lonesome with- out you that sometimes I think I shouldn't have consented to your going to college, when you asked meg but it shall all turn out for the better, won't it? There is not much doing in Boston and there won't be for a few months yet. There is no place to' go, and even if there were I shou1dn't think of going without you. Last Sunday night I sat in the palor as if expecting you to call, as was your custom, but I waited in vain. , As I have-an appointment with mother to go'shopping, I shall close, sending my -love. I am, Yours devotedly, GLADYS. e Austin read the letter over several times before putting it-back in the envelopeg and, after musing for several minutes, brushed up and went down to the dining room, where he found a large number of youths already seated. ' That evening Austin threw his Latin, geom- etry, and algebra books on the bed and started to answer the letter which he had received. He wrote on without halting till he was fin- ished, and several minutes later he sealed the letter which read as follows: Lancaster, Vt., - ' NOV. 15, 1915. Gladys Dearest: . Your perfectly loving letter was received this P. M., and Honey, I certainly was glad to hear from you. I surely do pardon your delay in answering, as I fully understand the occu- pation of a live girl in a'burg like Boston. You arelnot the only one that is lonesome for some one. I miss you more than I would three meals a day if I quit eating. Well, I certainly hope my going to college will turn out for the better, for I am sure laboring some. Gladys Dear, I certainly miss the good times I used to have with you, and I can't wait till I get out of this place for the holidays. When I get back to the old home town, I surely will celebrate with a big night at the Suburban Garden, and run the governor's new Cole 8 to Who Tied the Pups? Well, dear one, I shall have to turn to my books as I have much to do. I shall say good- bye. With much sorrow, and sending my love, t HIGH SCHOOL ECHO 19 I remain, Yours eternally, AUSTIN. With a sigh of satisfaction, instead of turn- ing to his books, Austin went to bedg or to use his expression, 'Shit the hay on all fours. Things passed along in the same routine at Saskatoon' College as they always had passed. The football honors were easily taken, the re- sult of the brilliant playing on the part of Austin and Art. The most exciting topic of conversation was Christmas holidays. The next day the boys were to leave for their re- spective homes. Austin was overjoyed, having passed the exams in everything. The afternoon of December 22 found Austin walking through the Union Station of Boston, satchel in hand, and a large smile on his fat face. Christmas day finally came. It was an ideal all around, cold air, with a Christmas, snow sharp north wind and a dull sky. Austin stayed at home for the Christmas dinner. In the ,evening he and Gladys went to a dinner party given by the Rotarians. 'The remainder of the holidays prior to New Year's Eve were uneventful. It was New Year's Eve, when Mr. Stults' chauffeur drove Austin up to Gladys' house. He rang the bell and Gladys' mother answered the door. Come on in, Austin, Gladys will be down in a minute, she said, and ,they both entered the parlor and Austin took a seat near the fireplace. - As Austin was a comparatively good conver- sationalist, the talk was very well kept up. One thing followed another, but the chief topic of conversation was Gladys. Mrs. Dexter put in her best licks: My, Gladys seems to be getting older every day. She does not seem to be the same girl and more. She takes 'everything so serious that we no longer think her to be a young girl but a young lady. Yes, chimed in Austin, I have noticed the change myself. I do think the change is admirable, too. I-Ier growing older has no ill effects on her good looks, she seems to be getting prettier every day. She is also very much more handy in the kitchen than she used to be, and she is learn- ing to cook very quickly. She seems to have some end in view, said Mrs. Dexter with a



Page 27 text:

' CENTRAL CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL ECHO 21 Two years later he was married to Miss Mary Murphy of that city. He devoted his entire time to literary work and continued to edit the Pilot till his untimely death in 1890. Though he had lived only forty-six years he had nevertheless built himself a lasting place in American literature, particularly in Catholic lines. His literary efforts, aside from newspaper work, include the realms of poetry, oration, and story. But it is as O'Reilly the poet he will be remembered, for, as he himself has expressed it, The dreamer lives for ever, but the toiler dies in a day? Yes, poetry was the natural mode of expression for a man of his temperament. He could express thought with greater ease in a single line of poetry than he could in a page of his very creditable prose. His poetry is remarkable for its ease and naturalness, and how could it be otherwise with one who was poetic even in a prison cell? . v 'His poetry is not hidden, it.is not the conception of one who feels he is a world within himself. His lines are marked by a thorough knowledge of human nature, particu- larly the pathetic and sy'mpat11etic sides. In- deed, the distinguishing mark of all his poems is their quality of sympathetic appeal. He is at his best when dealing with a patriotic sub- ject. By nature a patriot, liberty-inspired verses sprang from his soul. - Some of O'Reilly's published works are: Songs' of the Southern Seasg The Statues in Block and Other Poems, Songs, Legends, and Bajladsg America, Lectures and Speeches. His novel, Moondyne, is very interesting and it seems in some degree to reflect the author's life before he found shelter in America. illil I ALONG THE WATERFRONT By Frank Rogers, '17, -In a brightly lighted room of the Forty- second Street Detective Agency in New York City, Detective Thomas Brennan sat with his head in his hands, trying to solve a puzzling problem of his profession. He had just come from a rather sharp interview with a superior officer by whom he was appointed and advised to get busy. As he racked his brain trying to think of some way to trap the crooks who were committing wholesale robberies . v along the rivers of the city, his eyes fell on an article on the front page of a newspaper with the headlines as follows: Waterfront Robbers Getting Bolderg Yacht of William Johnstone, the Millionaire, Robbedf' It also added a few ironical remarks praising the pres- ent police and detective force. Brennan read the editorial and jumping up said to one of his men in the room: I'll get those scoun- drels or know the reason why! Then picking up his hat he went out into the street. As Brennan walked along the sidewalk he reasoned that if he wished to catch the thieves his best chance would be by associating with the rivermen and sailors that frequented those saloons near the docks. He knew it would be fatal for him to be recognized, so he stopped in a store and bought a sailor's cap and blouse, and returning to his flat he changed his clothes. Then clad in his sailor's clothes he sauntered along the docks near the Battery. Thinking he might pick up some clue to the identity of the robbers, he obtained a job on a tug plying about 'New York Bay. A few hours later, as the tug was transporting a scow across the harbor, a slim, dark-colored launch sailed up alongside, and a note was handed up to the captain. He read it and then laid it upon the sill of the pilot-house window, and went out to give some orders to the helmsman. A gust of wind blew the letter from the window almost hands, who was standing near into Brennan's the pilot-house. ' After securing the note Bren- nan walked to the stern and read it. It con- tained but Iive words: Come to Caseyls at seven. Scenting a clue, Brennan said to him- self, I'll be there at seven, all right, and with these. words he let the wind blow the note over the rail. The captain 'looked for the note, but when he could not iind it he readily supposed it had been blown into the water. About six o'clock Brennan entered Casey's saloon and sat down at one of the tables. He ordered a glass of whiskey, but when no one was looking he dashed its contents into a cuspidor. He ordered three more and the con- tents of these also found the cuspidor. A few minutes later he allowed his head to sink down on the table as though in a drunken stupor. Soon after, three men entered and sat down at an adjoining table. Before be- ginning to talk one of them looked sharply at Brennan, and being satisiied that he was a

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