Aquinas Institute - Arete Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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T H E A R E T E Cijc Aquinas' IDribc N the autumn of nineteen twenty-three the Aquinas Institute Campaign was conducted; needless to say, it was a howling success. When the muse of history shall render her verdict in regard to this Drive, the altruistic people who made it possible will be remembered and immortalized. Were it not for the inspired loyalty and sacrifices of the Catholic of average means the campaign, as indicated by the statistics of the committee, would, no doubt, have been a dismal failure. The children who gave their pennies which represented practically all their pecuniary possessions, the wage-earning fathers of large families, the widowed mother, the humble clerk, the sacrificing clergy—all played their part in contributing to the success of the noble work. Our people, both clergy and laity, are to be thanked most heartily for their boundless munificience, their devotedness to the cause of Catholic education. Pascal, the French savant, declared that “a seed sown in good ground brings forth fruit; so does a principle cast into a good mind.” The Catholics of this community, by their contributions, have recognized that the Aquinas Institute is a sower of seeds, the pupil being the ground, as it were, in which the seeds are sown. Further, they have made possible the erection of a temple of erudition in which will be installed in the minds of Catholic youth the self-evident principle that education without religion is a failure. Leo R. Rauber. twenty-nine

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THE AHETE “Oh what’s the cheapest thing on earth?” I asked me, pensive, by my hearth. A spell came o’er the leaping flame, In awe I heard it speak my name. The lambent tongues then made a sage Of august, vast and hoary age. Quoth he, with scorn as cold as ice: “The cheapest thing is free-advice.” Anon I knew my fatal sin Brought on the plight that I was in. So now I’ll loath dispense more rules, And blithely carp at men or fools. The phantom never need come twice— He trammelled quite my wanton vice: No more will so fain advise— I warn you, be yourself as wise. The wisest of the realm was he Who one day stopped the fool in jest— In council for the king, indeed. He far transcended all the rest. The fool, a butt of wiser men. Buffoon and scapegoat of the court. Smirked up askance and bowed him; then As bid, he made a droll retort. “Ho, fool!” in wrath the wise man cried, “Your wheedling jokes grow trite and stale; You are a sorry dolt, say I, For even as a fool you fail!” “A fool delights fools only—troth”— He fawned and cringed with vapid smile. “And that is why your grace is wroth; So let your grace play fool awhile.” “Swounds! Wisdom from a fool I heed!” “Ah, now you flatter me, your grace!” “I will—and make a sage of thee!” This novelty lit up his face. He donned the cap and tried to pun. “Alas, I can’t—or thanks to God! I am no fool, as you are one.” “And I, a sage, am but a fraud! “I’m but a fool—though fool indeed Who knows how scant his learning is: And what I am I wish to be— A fool whose wit at least sees this.” He left the sage, who pondered deep: “Methinks that speech was wiser far Than any ever made by me. We flaunt our wit—what fools we are!” Ihiili