Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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' This is an embarrassing position, ' he continued, ' but you are young; you have the world before you, and forty years possibly in which to atone and counteract. My boy, it does not pay. ' ' ' There followed a silence, as still as death, in which the office clock could be heard as though it were measuring off the centuries of eternity. Then the watchman fumbled in his pocket, brought forth a crumpled bill and extended it to the boy. He looked up in surprise. ' Take it, son, ' said the watchman, ' and go East or West for a fresh start. ' ' Why— I— y-you— I couldn ' t take it. ' ' Consider it as a trade, then. I ' ll give you ten dollars for your lantern. ' The boy arose unsteadily and extended his hand. The watchman grasped it and removed his hat. Here the Man glanced at his watch, then continued, Together they passed out the door into the dark street. The Man arose and crossed to his hat and coat, It is getting late. My train leaves shortly but I will finish hurriedly. The last thing the watchman said was, ' Try it all over again, my boy. Life is beautiful if it is seen from the right side, and remember, a good name is the most valuable asset a man may have. ' The boy promised the watchman he would try to succeed and he has. There, my friend, are you convinced? I am. And I see you have become a success. The Cynic rose while the Man whirled around, facing him, and continued, I was the night watchman that night. opp accipencs I Keith Brackemyre, ' 23. SAW a cow slip through the fence A horse fly in the store; I saw a board walk up the street, A stone step by the door. I saw a mill race up the road, Morning break the gloom; I saw a night fall on the lawn, A clock run in the room. I saw a peanut stand up high, A sardine box in town; I saw a bed spring at the gate, An ink stand on the ground.

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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.

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eyemnc nc CHefvon abbcy T Osborne Fischbach, ' 23. HE setting sun with wistful glow Shines o ' er the the ivy-covered wall — It ' s last faint gleams in glory fall Through a small chink into a cell Of Brother Ambrose deep immersed In prayers, The which he oft rehearsed. And as the holy man turned o ' er The beads with many an ave And trembling pater noster grave, The last dim tokens of the day Shone on his old and seamed face And piercing eyes — He seemed as in a hallowed place. And now the cloister bell peals forth, Ah! Tintinabulum so clear, So free, so bright, and yet so drear. Whence thy power o ' er mind and heart To sorely try — exhilirate By strains Thy limpid tones reverberate. Paster and faster falls nocturnal gloom; The strident frog begins to sing, The cricket green virbates its wing, And other sounds of like import Re-echo through the sultry night, And such a night! By angels, spirits, genii bedight. Clink, clank the weighty gates are heaving to — The porter ' s light weaves in and out As to his cot he takes his route. Hush! All is still! All ' a 1 quiet! Within the hall the brothers all Are sleeping.