Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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! -.■:.-■■■■■ ' ; ' ■■■•■■■■• :■■■. ' mm - v !;sSi;3 K ' ' y . ' ' ' . ' . ' • ; § j:i 1 1 ( CH€ COflD WHO CURPeD. !) I - ir 18. Franklin Swain, ' 23. DUSK was settling over the city when two gentlmen seated themselves near the open grate fire in a private room of the most exclusive men ' s club in New York. One, whom we shall call The Man, was rather tall and well built with dark hair, faintly tinged with gray. The man ' s features were not of unusual type except that there was a long white scar under his chin running all the way across, but scarcely noticeable unless his head was thrown backward. The other was The Cynic, who was slightly shorter and who looked to be forty years old, about the same age of his companion. Both wore evening clothes and both looked to be successful. The Cynic leaned forward and stirred the dying embers of the fire, which immediately blazed forth, sending a shower of sparks which shot upward for a fraction of a moment, then died again. How like a dormant being who receives an inspirational stirring up and blazes forth with all the fire and energy of youth, only to die out from lack of repeated encouragement, observed the Man. True indeed, my friend, was the Cynic ' s rejoining answer. The fire was the only means of illumination in the room and it east strange grotesque yet beautiful flickering shadows on the walls and ceiling. Neither spoke for several minutes, but were engrossed in the fantastic figures made by the tongues of flame as now and then they leaped up, only to vanish again. I must thank you kindly for the gracious hospitality tendered me by your club, while I am in your city, said the Man. ' ' Please do not mention it. ' Birds of a feather, ' — you know. We are both interested in steel. But let us make the best of the passing time. Pardon my forgetfulness, but you are leaving — V At eight o ' clock. We haven ' t long, said the Man. They both lapsed into a reverie, gazing into the fire. Finally, the Cynic broke the silence. This is a world of misdemeanor, penitence and forgiveness, is it not? he asked.

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T eueomG Francis Eu Daly, ' 23. HE sun is sinking in the west, The day is done. The birds fly homeward to their nests, The whole wide world is seeking rest, Low sinks the sun. The last light zephyr has gasped out, Night ' s mantle falls, The blundering beetle drones about, The cock gives out a final shout, The night wind calls. The bull-frog in the marsh below Begins his song, The robin in the dark hedge-row Sings sleepily. The fireflies glow, Shadows are long. The first faint star turns up it ' s light And twinkles clear, The faithful watchman of the night. Above all, God, who guides aright Till day appear. CHeBLUe-BIRD I Edna Peters know of one who has no care His joy is free for all, He travels miles without a fare Singing his song for all. With freedom from the world he sings His little song so true, Indeed, ' tis happiness that brings The little bird of blue.

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' ' Ah ! Perhaps you are thinking of the Governor ' s pardon to James Kuskin, the forger. Exactly. I do not approve of giving pardons as Christmas gifts to world- renowned law-breakers, said the Cynic. Perhaps it is for the best. He might ' go straight ' as they say. Bah! He might discover a fifth dimension, but — ah, quite improbable, you know. Pardon my frankness, my gracious host, but you are a bit, ah — cynical, are you not? Will you try one? the man asked, extending a case of cigars. Thank you. No, I believe a man cannot be changed morally after his twentieth year. I base my statements upon statistics. In their parlance, ' Once a crook, always a crook ' . Then perhaps you would care to listen to an interesting little story, at least it seems so to me, said the Man. ' ' Certainly, if you please. ' ' The Man lighted his cigar, expelled the smoke, and began: It was fifteen years ago. I was acquainted with a young man, very well acquainted, in fact, with this man who had nothing in the world to worry about. His father had died, leaving him a small fortune in some mining stock in Chile. He ' lived high ' until one day there came a sharp decline and the bottom dropped out of his stock. He was left penniless and without vocational training of any kind. He sought work but in vain. His reputation had been that of a spendthrift, an idler, and so he tried the more questionable means. Newspapers of his town, for the next few months carried accounts of small burglaries and thefts, person or persons implicated unknown. There came a larger attempt. This boy next tried to rob the offices of a large steel foundry in a town of about sixty thousand. Would that God might have put this incident in his path sooner. He gained entrance to the building and knelt in front of the safe. After repeated attempts at the dial failed to open the heavj r door, he became less cautious. One can imagine his surprise and dismaj ' , when, upon seeing the lights turned on, he wheeled about and found the night-watchman staring mildly at him. ' I imagine that is nerve racking work, ' said the watchman. The boy was speechless with fright. Here the Man leaned forward and flicked the ashes in the glowing embers of the fire. Had he chanced to glance at the Cynic he would have seen him lean forward with an expression of incredulity on his face. ' ' The boy seemed to realize his position and sat down limply in a chair. ' ' ' My God! why am I doing this? ' he cried. ' Yes, why are you doing this? ' the watchman said quietly. He crossed to the chair and placed his hand on the boy ' s back.