Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

 - Class of 1916

Page 12 of 56


Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 12 of 56
Page 12 of 56

Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 11
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Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 13
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Page 12 text:

44-f ha 'L c r ..., - Henry Ward Beecher was during the War of 1812. Darkness had settled like a t gg pall over our peaceful land. But a little ray of sunshine town of Litchfield. This was not the only ray that had come to the home of Dr. Lyman Beecher, for seven such beams had preceded it: but this last was destined to bring undying fame to this humble home, the birthplace of Henry Ward Beecher. Under motherly care and watchfulness, this son grew and became a man. Nature, too, favored him by holding him to the soil, until his strength and ambition united and broke the bonds that held him. Henry Ward Beecher was a man of great resources and magnetic personality. His one recreation lay in his search for a task so much larger than the last that there was no comparison between the two. Think a moment of a man with a broad smiling face, so full of kind- ness and strength, that he drew you to him when you first looked upon him, for you knew that his heart was warm with love for you. They say he never could reflect, but just felt, and felt with you, and put his feelings into burning words and deeds of kindness. It is one of nature's wonders that such a being should come to a realization of his power and a deep sense of responsibility toward the uplift of his fellowmen. In view of these peculiar powers, it was most fitting that Mr. Beech- er should become a preacher. He Worked at his chosen calling with the same zeal which revealed to him his surpassing ability. Men came from everywhere far and near to hear this powerful orator, who, they said, could warm the heart of a stone. He gave to many a discouraged mor- tal a helping hand and cheered him on in the Fight that seemed a losing one, His voice, his power, were lifted against humanity's foes. His pul- pit rang with not only denunciation of the iniquitous slave traffic but with pathetic appeals for the support of his people in putting down this cruel monster. When the international crisis came in 1863 and England seemed about to recognize the Confederacy, Beecher braved the jeers of the mobs in England, and fearlessly raised his voice against the whole institution of human slavery. No voice, except perhaps that of Wendell Phillips, was lifted with such powerful effect both in America and abroad against this deep- rooted curse. Beecher's life was full of gotd deeds. His kindly but powerful words touched the needy on the streets, in the lowest hovels, and in the mansions and business offices of the wealthiest. He lived for humanity and humanity worshiped at his feet. To the discouraged and broken- I ix4 T 5 came to a humble fireside back in the quaint Connecticut A m y ll0

Page 11 text:

A - ,,.,. A ,. , ,, - Y -:- Y ,,, .w' , ,Va - n - --Y,-cr, ,: ff - Y L- - Y .,r,-- -,i - Walt Whitman is the rhythmic apostle of our democracy. Not only were these two representative types contemporaneous, but both alike were rugged in nature, begotten of the same native rugged soil. "Well, he looks like a man," said Lincoln when he first saw Whit- man. And when Lincoln fell, how magnificently did Whitman sing his elegy in "Captain, O My Captain". ' i Did you ever transplant yourself on a lovely spring morning from your comfortable home to the untrodden part of the forest along the Meramec? How your very soul is enraptured! You are unable to analyze the charm, yet the charm is undeniably there. So you feel when you come to Walt Whitman. Whitman can easily contend for first honors as the genius of American nationality. Our turbulent demo- cracyg our faith in the future, our huge mass movements, our continen- tal spirit, our sublime, if unkept nature lies back of Walt Whitman, and are implied in all his work. As Emerson vividly wrote, "Americans abroad may now come home, unto us a Man is born !" Whitman has been accused of silliness and of blasphemy. These things may be trueg yet, in the sandy wastes of his innumerable lines, there is a wealth of scattered gold, never sifted out by him, yet gold, un- mistakable gold. Now and then Whitman incorporates a handy or high sounding word from some other language. Perhaps he did this to signify our composite democracy, and to teach that the whole world is the mother of our country. Yes, they may be crude, perhaps, but Whitman's rhapsodies are "diamonds in the rough, virgin gold in unwrought nuggets". How wonderfully large is Whitman's enthusiasm for mankind! His scorn for all but real things: his faith and his hope, and his love! As regards the form of what he writes, Whitman can find no author- ity superior to himself. There is a very powerful and majestic rhyth- mical sense throughout his writings, prose and verse, and this rhyth- mical sense is original and inborn. One feels that although no count- ing of syllables will reveal the mechanism of his music, the music is surely there. His rhythm, so often burlesqued, is all of a part with the man and with his ideas. It is apparently confusedg really it is most carefully schemed, certainly to a high degree original. It has a great booming movement or undertone, like the sound of a heavy surf. Call this poet uncouth, inarticulateg whatever you please that is least orthodox, yet after all, he is the only one who points out the stuff of which, perchance, the American literature in the future may be made. The appearance of such a man as Whitman involves deep world forces of race and of time. Can we not then safely say that the one mountain thus far in our literary landscape is Walt Whitman? -Margaret M. H orchitz. 109

Page 13 text:

hearted, his tongue whispered words of encouragement and new hope. To the successful, he ever called out of the things that are eternal. He reached the end of earth's journey in the year of 1887 while resting calmly in his home. As a ray of sunlight full and strong flashed across the room, his mortal nature passed out into the spirit world. He loved the multitude and the multitude came to his funeral. He loved the Howers and ten thousand buds breathed their fragrance and clad his resting place in beauty. He loved music and the voice of the organ rose with the anthems which had delighted him. He loved the sunshine and it streamed through the windows and was a halo around him. But Henry Ward Beecher lives on in the lives and institutions that he has made better through his earthly ministry. -Howard Shupp. Wendell 'phillips measure a period by its great men. Like the shuttle in , weaving they play into the very warp and woof of the time. 1, f,,':l 15.33531 T They represent its history, its toil and its struggle. Thus 5 it is that forty years of American history, can be summed ll' 'I up in the life of one man, Wendell Phillips. It is respecting this man that I shall speak this morning. Let us investigate the conditions which called him forth. It was a time when slavery ruled both Church and State, when it commanded both the press and pulpit, and when it controlled both the finances and the armies of the nation. Few facts need be stated to show the moral stupor of the nation. In Alton, in 1837, Elihu Lovejoy, an American citizen, was killed by a mob for declaring the right to his personal lib- erty. It was at a time such as this that the young aristocrat stepped into the anti-slavery ranks. Wendell Phillips was the first and greatest American agitator. "Agitation", said Sir Robert Peele, "is the marshaling of the conscience of a nation to mould its laws". To the service of this cause he brought all his own rich and unusual gifts. Educated to be the aristocratic lead- er of a privileged class, he became the defender of the lowly and despised. Gifted with an eloquence that could transform a nation, he consecrated it to the welfare of the downtrodden and oppressed. l Wendell Phillips was one of the gentlest and most sympathetic of men. His devotion to his wife was a poem. He had no children. His wards were the poor, the outcast and the friendless. With him a cause despised was a cause espoused. He was emphatically a man of the peo- ple-the great popular tribune of modern times. Emerson once said, "There is no true eloquence unless there is a man behind it". Character is the secret of all oratory. Thus it is no less a 111

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