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

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10 THE rainbow, if such a comparison can be imagined. Along with this was a distinct though incomprehen- sible murmur like the sighing of the night winds rustling through the treetops. Increasing in volume for a short time, it suddenly ceased, and then I beheld the strangest sight that man had ever witnessed. The huge door of the mansion flew open, and out trooped the wierdest assembly that the highest Hight of imagination can fancy. Strange personages, human inas- much as they walked, or seemed to walk, living in that they appeared tangible-they yet presented so ghostly and mystical an appearnce as to be beyond description. Over them the strange light hovered, enabling us to witness their ac- tions. Forming in a great circle, they began to dance about three of their number whom we could clearly see to be a man, a woman, and a child. Slowly at first, then faster and faster they whirled ac- companied by a chant which seem- ed too soft and distant to proceed from the dancers, but which gath- ered in volume as the seconds passed. Suddenly the dancing ceased, the forms re-entered the building, the door closed, the pale glowing light lingered for a mo- ment, and then vanished as though hidden by an enveloping cloud, leaving us alone, alone with the ghostly and silent inhabitants of the night, alone with the dreadful silence and our terror. Then We stood for some time when- Ouch! a paper wad hits me in the eye, and I awake to the mysteries of Vergil and the possibility of a post ludum session before me. -R. Neeb, '21, ECHO lVIacSwiney He lived for Erin, he died for Erin, His name has ne'er been stained 3 And his soul is now in Heaven VVhere God hath always reigned. He died in prison, 'twas no dis- grace, For saints have died the same, And all of Erin's .shall doff their hats Whey they hear lVIacSwiney's name. -E. Bresnahan, '23. Spooks A ghost, it is a direful sight Produced by fancy's frightened flight- Unearthly things which man can see, Which are not though they seem to be. Their sway is in the midnight hours VVhen they exert their weird pow- ers And make a coward of a man As only ghosts and spirits can. I stole a story often told Of a man named Seth, big, strong, and bold, VVho went a haunted house to see And get the ghosts that there might be. Next morning near the house was found A body lying on the ground. 'Twas lifeless and belonged to Seth 5 He wasn't killed, just scared to death. -R. Neeb, '21.

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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

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THE ECHO 1 1 Getting In. It was just one o'clock when a well dressed man of medium height stopped in front of a large and prosperous looking house on the avenue. As he stopped a light on the lower floor was extinguished, and taking advantage of the now dark front yard, he stepped into the shadow of a large tree which effectually shielded him from the dim illumination of a street lamp. Here he sat down on the lawn, leaned back against a tree, all the while keeping an eye on the house and especially on a light which still was burning in a front room on the second floor. He sat there for nearly an hour until the light was extinguished. Then he rose from his place of concealment, cautious- ly ascended the steps to the front porch, and noiselessly tried the door. It was evidently fastened for he did not open it, but walked down quietly from the porch and quickly moved around to the side of the house. He made his way to the rear and there tried another door with no more success than had attended his first effort. He seemed to be taken back a little with this turn of affairs, and he stood for several moments scanning the back of the house. Then he tried a window that stood a little way above the ground but success was not yet in his grasp. Another window and then another on the opposite side were tried, but to no avail. He now turned his attention to what was seemingly a cellar Window, and under his efforts it swung open. He soon disappeared inside, where all was dark and quiet. The first sound to greet him was the sharp bark of a dog which he quickly silenced with the words nice dog- gie. He proceeded cautiously through the darkness and only stopped when, as he climbed the cellar stairs, he kicked against a broom which the maid had left standing there, and sent it clatter- ing down to the floor. He stood breathless for several minutes, but evidently the noise had awakened no member of the household, and once more he moved until he reached the kitchen. Here he groped in the dark until he found a chair, and then he sat down and removed his shoes. After this he moved more freely, making quick- ly through the house until he came to the front stairway. Here he stopped and rubbed his shins, which he had bruised when he col- lided with a wagon one of the children had left standing in the library. Then he went up the stairs, step by step, slowly and deliber- ately. One step creaked, he shift- ed his weight to another. Another squeaked, and he slackened his steps. Finally he reached the top and turned, feeling his way in the darkness. He turned the knob of a door, quietly entered, and as quietly closed the door. Noiselessly he turned on the light, and sighed. The sigh was that of a man who has been re- lieved of a heavy burden. Mr. Jones had for once evaded the blockade of his wife, and was now safely entrenched in his own cham- ber after a nightly visit to his favorite club. He put his hand into his pocket, removed a roll of bills, and after slowly counting them, smiled broadly. '4Lucky at poker and every- thing, he muttered. F.A.,'21.