Archbishop Hughes Memorial High School - Spires Yearbook (New York, NY)

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LITERARY CLUB The Aladdin's lamp of literature has been oursg through the educational vapors which have arisen from it, at each of our quests into its cultural idea, there have come forth new and finer rnotivesg through the eyes of the poets, the novelists, the essayists, we have been mentally transported into other realms of fancy, and the knowledge we gleaned therein has been complete and satisfying. This acquaintance with the literary geniuses of various ages did not occur haphazardly. Though, as a result of our English work, we realized the wealth of beauty that lies concealed in the many phases of literature, our enthusiasm was not satiated. Our knowledge led us to seek a further development. Thus, with a stimulus given for our progress in literary fields, the desire among the pupils of our dear high school culminated in the formation of our Literary Club. It proved to be a fruitful undertaking from the beginning, What a marvelous task it was to encourage pupils to appreciate those valuable works that embody so much loftiness of thought and charm of expression! The first members of the club, with true Memorialite spirit, endeavored to fan the flickering lights of literary knowledge, to remove the draught of modern Ection that threatened to extinguish them entirely, and to nurse them into a steady flame. Their number was few and their task difficult, but they persevered and finally handed down to us the literati of '31, a club that has had its foundation firmly established and most of its difhcult work completed. Whatever success we have attained in this field can be attributed to our dear sisters, especially our Principal, Sister Marie Annette and to our Moderator, Miss M. Ripple. We have carried on the work so courageously begun by its first Qmembers, retaining the sentiment with which the Club was organized and always conducted. In Disraeli's words, we may say, Time, the great destroyer of other men's happiness, only enlarges the patrif mony of literature to its possessorf' One Hundred Twenty three

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One Humired Twentyftwo CLUB RY LITERA THE

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PROPHECY Alighting from a plane I entered a cave. Through winding, intricate labyrinths, merging now into thousands of endless, dim passages, then past dark, secluded caverns and finally peering forth into inky blackness, I hastily followed my guide, a wretched, cackling dwarf with a shining, swinging lantern. My courage mingled with a sense of utter desolation, as I harkened to the sonorous refrain of distant, sensuous music. Then my weird conductor gratefully hissed: Lol Thou approachest the honorable Fates. Ask what thou wilt. Instantly we reached a turning, and I beheld a spacious, tapestried hall, clouded with incense and suffused with the ethereal glow of numerous hanging lamps. Seated on a dais were the three sister Fates, the objects of my quest. In a commanding tone one of these cried, Suppliant, thou seekest the futures of thy classmates? Patience, silence. Only we hold the keys to days not yet inscribed in the annals of man. With visible trepidation, I muttered a faint , Yes, most worthy one! Then came silence, a charged, miserable silence that was finally broken by a harsh command. Bring sleep, Morpheus, I say, Morpheus, thy sleep! Slowly the sisters beckoned me and then from behind a partly raised curtain, I gazed across a panorama of hills now deepening into valleys, of cities stretching toward forests, and rivers gracefully losing themselves in the sea. Drowsiness ruled. I was sinking, softly. Vaguely I imagined. Now thou behold their destiniesf' an eerie voice commanded. A hurried impatient sigh, a muffled turning of leaves, and then I found myself in the cabin of the TransfContinental passenger plane. Truly I was weary, for the past hourwe had been awinging westward past the towering skyscrapers of New York toward the suburban districts of New jersey and Pennsylvania. As yet, my fellow passengers had found little or no time for congeniality and thus I was left to my own resources. Suddenly, I was startled from my reverie by the familiar voice of Mary Agnes Riley. After exchanging brief greetings, we fell into discussing the lots chosen by our sister Cathedralites. Well, you see I'm quite a modern 'womanfaboutftownf casually suggested Mary Agnes, while motoring upfstate, the other day I chanced to stop at a charmf ing teafroom. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the two proprietors to be none other than that happy pair, KathleenMcClaurey and EileenMons. We talked shop and finally exchanged our knowledge about the class of '31. Both of them reside in 'Shadysidef Margaret Brady, Muriel Mackenzie and Catherine Sheehy are some of the prominent members of that 'just married set,' composed mostly of our old Cathedral friends. You must remember them, why, there is Lucy Downing, a rising young journalist, Mary Brennan, style's editor of 'Delineatorf Josephine One Hundred Twentyffouf