Central Catholic High School - Echo Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

Page 16 text:

8 THE ECHO A Christmas Present for Father The giving of presents as tokens of love, esteem, friendship, or as a matter of policy is very, very old. In the Old Testament many ex- amples are given. The one which comes to my mind now is the Queen of Sheba's gift to Solomon. But you may ask how the custom of giving presents at Christmas time came about. Who gave the first Christmas gifts and who re- ceived them? If you will recall, this is answered in the New Testa- ment. The Infant Jesus in the stable of Bethlehem was the first one to receive Christmas gifts. The three kings were the givers. - The gifts they gave were suitable to their station in life and for the occasion. Their offerings were princely, and were for the King of Princes. Presents need not neces- sarily cost a great deal to be useful, for sometimes the most common- place article is most acceptable. So a present for father, what will it be? He has mufflers, gloves, a watch fob, lodge pins, and a cane. I must get something useful. Oh, yes, every night he comes home tired after being on his feet all day. His old house slippers are gone-the dog chewed the tops off the two of them. So a pair of house slippers it will be. They are not very expensive, but still some- one has said: Think not of the gift, but of the love of the giver. In this I think father will be pleased though the gift is to be used only in the house. wk 14 FIC ill Father was very much pleased with his gifts from mother, sister, and brother Joe. He did not say much to me, but I think he liked my gift most of all. Why? Well, he called me out into the dining room and gave me a ten dollar bill. Is not that pretty good proof? Of course mother got a present as did sister and Joe, but mine was the best, I know it. -Eugene Luley, '23. The Church on Judgment Day The hills roll back to hide their eyes, The snow-clad mountains droop away, The dread seas kiss the blood-red skies, And man bemoans his judgment day. Beside the Great White Throne, behold A bride assumes the reign of Heaven, Her mantles sheltered and con- soled The saints. Her mantles number seven. Beautiful, stately, she with-stood The demon in an earthly fight, Clothed in her mantles and her hood Now more than morning she is bright. To those upon His left Christ turned, One look, they swiftly fled away, Rightward His eyes of longing burned And God found mighty words to say: Arise, make haste, my spouse, my love, For time at last brooks no delay, The winter's past, my love, my dove, This is our final nuptial day. -J. H.

Page 15 text:

THE ECHO 7 couldn't hold it for more than thirty seconds at a time, the inter- vals between having been spent in floating uncertainly about a foot above it. There are seven such seats on either side, each having a capacity for two thin persons, or one fat person. Then there are two boards hinged at the back, that is, the north end when going south, and vice versa. You see, there are controls at either end, and when the car is going one direction, those at the other end are not used, so four more individ- uals can be seated, making the seat- ing capacity just thirty-two. As a rule, the count is forgotten, and by the time the Transfer Corner is reached the passenger list has climbed to sixty-four and some- times even seventy, as there are straps on which an athlete can hang, giving the space otherwise occupied by his feet to some other victim. And there is a bar separat- ing the entrance from the exit upon which a tight-rope artist can perch. Besides, the conductor-motorman has learned from experience that by starting and stopping suddenly he can pack the passengers closer, bale them as it were, thereby enab- ling him to take on several more fares. Now you see why the door is used so little for exit, or rather was used so little, because recently someone devised a system of bars on the windows, cutting off this mode of escape. Since the introduction of these small imitations of the real thing the two rival routes known as the C. Y. B. 85 W. Ccarry your baggage and walkj and the L. E. 85 W. Cleave early and walkj have be- come more popular, because they are more reliable and not so crowd- ed. Then, they are not a sure death to a perfectly good shine, or a nicely pressed suit. The name one-man street car is derived from the fact that the crew consists of one man. He wears a blue suit with brass buttons, and gives you twenty nickles in eX- change for a dollar bill. He is called a conductor-motorman be- cause he does his best to conduct one somewhere with the facilities he has, and motorman because- Oh, well, he's called it. But let us be thankful for small favors, and remember what the sage says about small beginnings and great endings, and big oaks and little hickory nuts. -E. J. B., '21. Christmas The time is come The time of bells And they are ringing O'er hills and dells, To spread the tidings O'er the whole earth, To tell the faithful Of the Infant's birth. The snow is falling And cloaks the land In a coat of white. And a joyous band Of angles sing, In happy flight, Their Glorias This Christmas night. -E. Kramer, '21. The secret of success is to do as well as one possibly can.

Page 17 text:

THE ECHO 9 Breaking the Spell It was fast turning dusk, and as I stood on the station platform wondering at the grandeur of the scenes about me, I felt that at last I had obtained the correct setting for resuming my literary work. For the past eight years I had been writing for various magazines and periodicals, and at last, devoid of ideas, I undertook to find some spot where the beauty of the scenery and the magnificence of the sur- roundings would give inspiration to my sluggish imagination. Fi- nally hearing of a little town called M-L near the banks of the Hudson River, I determined to go there at once. I acted on my reso- lution, and in an incredibly short time I found myself standing alone on the deserted platform, while the train vanished around the hills in the distance. It was a quaint little town which I now beheld, a typical Dutch vil- lage with small tile-roofed houses and carefully kept little yards. It immediately gave an impression of simplicity and tranquillity, and yet a strange, dim suspicion of mystery and unreality overhung all. It was in just such a village as this, I thought, that Rip Van Winkle pursued his shiftless course, and the outlines of the distant mountains emphasized the possibility for the unreal and mys- tic. My first thought was to take a room in the picturesque inn, and when this was accomplished I en- gaged in conversation with the old inn-keeper, determined to ascer- tain the nature of my surround- ings. To all my questions he answered affably, but when I men- tioned to him that I was desirous of experiencing some of the mys- teries which are always connected with the Catskill Mountains he shook his head and said, Myster- ies! we have but one. A short dis- tance, perhaps a mile or two, down the south road stands what remains of the beautiful mansion of a wealthy London merchant. One night about six years ago, he, his wife, and their one child strangely disappeared, and nothing has been heard or seen of them since. At times strange sounds issue from the walls of the house, sounds inde- scribable in their blood-curdling horribleness, and on such occasions a thin, opalescent stream of light envelopes the entire upper story of the house. No one in the village save my son Hans is brave enough to go near the place, but if you should wish to do so, he will no doubt accompany you. Try as I might I could not keep a slight smile of incredulity from my lips, a smile which the aged man saw and readily understood. He, however, said nothing. Late that evening as I was pre- paring to retire the son approached me and offered to guide me to the deserted house. Gladly I accepted the invitation and soon we were plodding along the dusty dirt road. We had walked briskly for ten minutes when I saw looming up be- fore us the outlines of a once mag- nificent home. We approached within about a hundred feet of the house when things occurred which fairly made my blood freeze in my veins. A pale glow illuminated the windows, a light which I can only describe as appearing like the rays of the moon filtering through a