Charlotte High School - Delphian Yearbook (Charlotte, MI)

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DELPHIAN, C. H. 8. NINETEEN SIXTEEN its rainbow tints. He was forced to return home and t ake np the burden of supporting his mother and his younger sister. He began the work of teaching music rather bitterly, for this was not his destiny. He was meant to be a darling of the gods, not a hum- drum teacher of the violin, with anxiety about the fuel and the rent, hanging like the sword of Damocles above his head. At first he felt that he could yet compose, and occasionallj he caught faint snatches of a mystic melody. But they were more and more indistinct, and finally he heard them no more. They were drowned by the jangling discords of his life. But in that darkest hour which always pre- cedes the dawn, there was born to him out of the travail of the passing years a vision. It was dim and indistinct at first but gradually it grew clearer and brighter until he could follow it like a guilding star. And he knew that from his 0 ' ai spirit and his own life he could evoke siieh harmonies as had never yet been called forth from a violin, no, not were it the finest that had ever come from the workshop of a Stradivarius. And so he began to practice these new melodies of the spirit, but he found them hard to master, harder than the most difficult of compositions for his violin. For they were the melodies of unselfishness, of love, of the return of good for evil, of sweetness and serenity amid the clashing din of human life. But the difficulties did not daunt him and he persevered and became more and more pro- ficient with every passing year. The way grew brighter and the path less thorny all the time, and he discovered that to teach rightly is to give, and that only those who give taste the purest joy that man can know. He was becom- ing an artist now in that finest of all the arts, the art of living. And behold! He heard again those other melodies of yore, and one day he wrote a beau- tiful song which touched the hearts of thou- sands and which made him famous. But what mattered to him now the plaudits of the world 1 He had heard the music of the stars. For His Colleen (By Adelaide Hart, ' IS.) Mrs. Mulhany smiled genially in the late autumn sun. Her ' s was a smile of good-fellow- ship and happy disregard of the conventional- ities involved in the naeeting of strangers. She was placidly talking to the lady who occupied the seat next her on the bleachers regardless of the haughty glances of the lady and the amused smiles of those about her. Shure an autumn day is a lovely tii e to be a-bringin ' of a woman loike me from her house- hol d duties to watch a fisht full of crazy ga- loots chase the length of the field with a ball and thin be afallin ' on one another as if it ' twas made of gold, instead of bein ' composed of the same material as me old pig, Pat. Shure a lot of humans act the same as that same crit- ter. Many a pig ' s hid ' hind of a two-legged, smilin ' -faced nonentity that the Lor ' s origin- ally intended for somethin ' else to be placed on another planet, but got mixed in the rush. Whist or I ' ll box yer ears, can ' t yez hear me a- talkin ' with the lady ; where ' s yer manners ? There, Kathleen, O ' Shaughnessy will save you some; if you don ' t, you young spalpeen, I ' ll turn yes over my knee and make ye sing. This whole speech was made in one breath, the last part with cuffs and jerks at a young, jolly, red-headed, freckled-faced culprit, mingled with pats and mothering glances at a weak little girl in her lap. Today Mrs. Mulhany was out on parade ; green feathers adorned her cocky hat, a coat of the revoluntionary period hung about her matronly form in folds, and the smile which she bestowed upon the earth in general and her son in particular, warmed the otherwise chilly landscape as the rays of the sun, while her hearty words seemed as a jolly norther, crisp, full of comradeship and love. At her side sat a meek little man, trying hard to keep Page twenty-six

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN I want to see the doctor, Peter. I ' ll be back soon, his voice was harsh now with past grievances. No, no, I want j ' ou to stay. Please, father. You had better humor him; perhaps he will go to sleep soon. There is no time to consider ourselves — if, she added in a low tone, we are to save him. He nodded, then quietly sat down by the bed. His heart was leaping at her nearness and at the unconscious use of that little word we. Then his face hardened and his jaws clicked determinedly as he thought of all the pain she had caused him. It was five years ago that she had told him they could never be happy together while he was making and then ruining men in his business. Five years of sol- itude and unhappiness — yet, here she was in this very house to wliich he had planned to bring her as his wife. A week passed by in this way — a week of strained , relations for these two, yet in one thing they were of the same purpose — the sav- ing of Peter ' s life. This was their anxiety over Peter, for he had grown very dear to them both in the past few months. The crisis will come touight, the doctor had said and so they settled themselves for the long vigil. Midnight came and over the sleeping city the bells rang in the new year. What happi- ness and joy he might have looked forward to, was David Ames ' thought as, with bowed head, he listened to the last note die away. Then for the first time in years, the master of many another man ' s fate prayed to his Maker. What if he should lose Peter now, just when he had come to love him, and what if he should lose Judith again, too. Money could not buy hap- piness, she had been right — God ' s plan did not work that way. Breathlessly they watched over the little fellow as he lay there in a stupor. He aroused and looked questioningly at the three faces bending over him. Good night, father. Tomorrow we v ill have our party. Don ' t let Rose-Lady go away, will you? Then upon receiving the man ' s promise he sighed happily, closed his eyes and soon dropped into a quiet, natural sleep. He will live, was the doctor ' s brief ver- dict and with a few whispered directions he left. As David wearily rose from his chair he met Judith ' s eyes full of love and understanding. Dear, I promised Peter I would keep his Rose-Lady, he said softly. David! The first rosy tints of dawn showed in the sky when they at last stole softly from the bedside of the sleeping child. That dawn of a new day — of a new year ! The Artist (By LiUian E. Howard.) He had the artistic temperament. His fea- tures were finely chiseled and his mouth sensi- tive and in his dark eyes there glowed at times a spark of that celestial fire which Prometheus stole so long ago from the abode of the im- mortals. And he played that most divine of in- struments, the v iolin, very well for a boy, so well that in rare moments, heaven and earth seemed to vanish away and there was nothing left but harmony. He had great dreams of his future and in his boyhood days his head often whirled with .visions, visions of the time when he should be a great artist and win the adulation of brilliant throngs in far famed capitals, or a great com- poser whose melodies should live forever. The rainbow promise of his youth bade fair to be fulfilled, for he was sent to one of the best schools of music. But in the midst of his course there came a great calamity which darkened his sky and left to him no traces of Page twenty-five

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN from the public eye, and succeeding, as it were, behind the ample form of his wife. Mrs. Mulhany w ' as talker of the family and filled the position well. Her better half, as she called him, had been coolly informed that he should take a day off and attend the foot- ball game, and sure as life itself Mulhany ar- rived decked out in his national colors, also those of the school. About his plug hat was carefully festooned a green ribbon, shamrocks adorned the lapel of his coat, Mrs. Mulhany be- ing a believer in local color, and behold Mul- hany a changed man. Why so much excitement over a football game? Hush while I tell you. Today Michael Mulhany, 21 years of age, son of Mr. and Mrs. O ' Shaughnessy Mulhany, Sr., was to play his final game of football. He was captain of his team ; handsome, manly and whole-hearted ; a true son of his mother. He had led his team to victory upon every other occasion, but this game meant more to him than any of its pre- decessors. He was playing to win the hand of the girl he loved ; a pretty-sweet-faced, rollick- ing Irish lass, with eyes as blue as the lakes of Killarney, and cheeks of peaches and cream and hair as black as the heart of Cromwell. In a moment of mischief she had told him that unless he won the game she would become the wife of his rival, Pat McGee, and contrary to her expectations Michael had taken her at her wiord, and today was to battle for her hand. Game to the end she stood by her rash require- ment, and now the crucial moment had arrived. She had little doubt as to the outcome of the game, for Michael had worked four long years for this very moment. Through these years of unceasing toil and study he had laid too firm a foundation to be shaken at this late day. Were his men as strong as he? This question troubled her not a little, but she turned a smiling face to him as he came up, bringing several classmates to be introduced to the fam- ily. Proud of them, Michael introduced his mother and father as if they were the king and queen of the Emerald Isle. His brothers and sisters, nine in all, as the best parcel of young- sters on the continent, and Margaret O ' Hara — well we leave that to the imagination of the romantic. As the game was called, Michael kissed his mother, shook hands with his father and smiled beamingly upon the children. Then turning to his little sweetheart, he said : Shure an ' its a hard task, Mavoureen, but I ' m sure to come out on top. Good luck to you, Mickey; I hope by all the saints that ye win. With a cheery smile Mickey made for the field and in a moment were heard his encour- aging cries to his team-mates. That ' s it, Slim, fight him boys ; all ready now, let her go. The first of the game was played with a show of equality. They were well matched, and fought with pep. Mrs. Mulhany was beside herself with anxiety. Michael was guarded by a man, almost rivalling Jess Willard as to pro- portions and he was doing his best to annihilate the boy. But Michael stood his ground. ' ' Michael, Michael, don ' t weaken ; think of St. Patrick and foight like an Irishman. Turn- ing to the guard, she cried in a menacing whisper, Ye black hathen, sure an ' I ' d wallop yes wid me bare hands if I was me boy. ' ' One person on the field was silent, her face was white and set, but hope was strong in her heart and something of her confidence vibrated out to Michael, and together with his deter- mination to win, made him grit his teeth and muster the courage within him, gained from a long line of Irish fighters. He fought a battle that day, never to be forgotten. With muscles tense, jaws set, watching every movement of the pigskin, with eager, alert eyes, he seemed possessed. His team was weakening while the other side appeared to gain strength. The score was tied and 40 yards to go. Amid the cries of the spectators he gasped out his signals. Suddenly in a tense quiet the two teams sprang into action. The dust was blinding when it raised the ball and Mickey was two yards down the field and his opponents straining every nerve to overtake him. Only 38 yards to reach the coveted goal, but his strength was fast waning. His eyes glaring fire, his head thrown Page twenty-seven