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

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4 THE .ECHO Christmas Eve It was a cold, dark day. Snow flakes fell slowly about. The crowd rushed along, arms filled with pack- ages, and exchanging joyful greet- ings. During the rush, a little boy stood looking into a window. His feet were almost bare, and his clothes were torn and ragged. His dark blue eyes were gazing upon the toys in the window. At his feet sat a dog, look- ing into the boy's face in a dejected manner. A Gee! ain't that a peach of a gun, Snowball ? said the boy to his dog. Snowball answered with a wag of his tail. '4Gosh, he continued, if I had a hundred thousand dollars, I'd buy this place, and you and me, Snow- ball, wouldn't have to sleep in barns anymore for sure. The boy stood looking into the win- dow for a moment, and then started to sing a Christmas hymn. He did not notice the crowd of people that gathered around him. He sang the piece over and over again, not look- ing backward or he would have seen a man with a hat containing jingling coins. He did not turn until the man said, Here, my little man, is a gift for you. The boy turned quickly around and saw the money. What, is that for me ? he asked. Yes, replied the man. You just sang a song about Holy Mother and that reminded us of ours, and we shall make her happy. Have a merry Christmas, my lad. And handing the money to the astonished boy, he passed away into the crowd. The boy stood still, too surprised to move. Finally, he counted the money, and found that he had three dollars and thirty-three cents. Golly, Snow- ball ! he exclaimed, won't we have a peach of a time with this ? Snowball answered with a joyful bark, and started to 'lick his young master's hand. Just then a middle-aged man stepped up to the boy and said, What is your name, my lad ? Patrick O'Brien, sir. Where do you live '? inquired the man. The boy paused a moment, and then replied, Anywhere, sirg I haven't a home. I sleep in barns and boxes, and live anyplace in the day. Well, spoke the man, I was standing back there and heard you sing, and I find you have a wonderful voice. The lad did not speak, so the man continued, You have no certain place to go, did you say ? N o, sir, returned the boy. Well, my name is Carton, Thomas Carton. Would you like to come to my house for dinner ? Dinner! cried the boy. I'd like to very much, but I'm afraid I can't. You can't ? said the man, show- ing surprise in his turn. I thought you had no place to go ? I haven't, Patrick answered, abut my clothes are not fit to go any-- place. H Let me be the judge of that, said Mr. Carton. All right, replied Patrick, and they marched away together, fol- lowed by the dog. My home is just around the cor- ner a ways, spoke Mr. Carton. But at that moment Patrick was thinking what a nice man Mr. Carton was, and did not speak. You know, con- tinued Mr. Carton, that tomorrow is Christmas, and we should remember

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THE ECHO a l952'?'74 I I n the year of the creation of the world, five thousand one hun- dred and ninety-nine, frorn the universal flood, two thousand nine hundred and yifteen, from Moses and the departure of the Israelites from Egypt, one thousand jive hundred and ten, froni the royal an- nointing of David, one thousand and thirty-two, in the sixty-sixth week of Daniel's prophecy, the seventy-fourth Olympiad, in the year of the foundation of Roine, seven hundred and fifty-two, in the forty-second year of the einpire of Augustus, all the universe enjoy- ing a profound peace, in the sixth age of the world JESUS CHRIST, eternal God, and Son of the eternal Father, wishing to sanctify the world by His holy advent, having been conceived of the Holy Ghost, and nine nionths being elapsed since His conception, is born at Bethlehein, a town of Juda, of the Glorious Virgin Mary-THE BIRTH OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, ACCORDING TO THE FLESH. ' -The Roman Martyrology.

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THE ECHO 5 the Christ Child along with our mer- ry-making. I have thought of that, too, re- plied Patrick. + It seems funny how much He does for us and how little we do for Him. Yes, that's so. But here is the place. .Patrick saw a large stone house with many windows, and fancy trim- mings on it. Gosh! said Patrick to himself g Mr. Carton must have a lot of money. The door was opened by a maid, who took their coats and hats, while they went into the sitting room. Where is Helen? he asked the maid. ' She is upstairs, sir. Not feeling well, sir. Well, do not call her yet, said Mr. Carton. Come here, my little man, he said to Patrick. I wish to tell you something. He paused a moment, and Patrick caught the glimpse of a tear. He went on: Seven months ago my little son died. He was about your age, and ever since my wife has- not been the same. And today she is worse, because the day before Christmas our little boy would be so excitedi and happy. Mr. Carton stopped to wipe away a tear. He continued: I want you to do me a favor if it is not too much to ask. f I'll be glad to do it, answered Patrick, no matter how big it is. Well, said Mr. Carton, it is this: my little boy would sing Christmas hymns around this time, and I would like it very much if you would sing a few songs. The boy started to sing Silent Night, and before he had finished, Mrs. Carton came rushing down stairs. Thomas, she cried, Thom- as, what does this mean ? Only this, my dear, smiled Mr. Carton, this boy is taking Edward's place tonight to sing a few songs for us. Good! cried Mrs. Carton. I shall be delighted. Patrick sang a few songs before dinner. After dinner Mr. Carton called him into the library and said, You did not tell me anything about yourself or your family. I Oh, said Patrick, I haven't much of a history. I can't remember my mother or father, and I had no brothers or sisters. I made my home with an old lady named Miggs, but one day she got heart failure and died. So I came here trying to earn something. 5 Rather a sad story, commented Mr. Carton. But I was speaking to my wife and she wants me to per- suade you to make this your home, and take the place of our boy. Gee I cried Patrick, I'd love to if I was able to a-er- Able to do what, my boy ? Able to keep my dog, said Patf rick. Oh, of course, of course, laughed Mr. Carton. -Wayne Bushman, 'QL .i. To The Echo Yes, all things fade away, but leave behind Some echo, howe'er faint it be, that tells Us naught is lost. The tiny flow'ret bells , Vibrating to the music of the wind May in the farthest world their echoes find. The fall of each brown leaf in tutumn dells An echo sends, that onward swells. Who knows but God has work for it designed? So send we forth this Echo of our life That breathes and dies within the ancient Walls Of our old school. Perhaps in some young 'heart Where Right and Wrong contend in ceaseless strife, voice, as en e as e soun Its g tl th d when -falls The dying leaf, may courage fresh impart.