Charlotte High School - Delphian Yearbook (Charlotte, MI)

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN back he ran with the grace of a deer. A tackle darted in front of him, he dodged easily. His pursuers gained on him every moment. The goal seemed far away. The pain in his throat choked him ; his sides seemed tearing, his knees were weakening, when he heard the encourag- ing cry of his mother : Holy St. Patrick! he ' s gone mad; that ' s the boy, Mickey, me darliu ' ! Then faintly to his ears, as he sped on, came the appealing note of Margaret O ' Hara, For me, Mickey, for me. Renewed strength seemed to be injected into his body, and with another effort he threw him- self across the line. Cheer upon cheer rang through the crowd. Nine for Mickey, Nine for his mother and father. Then Mickey raised his tired head and croaked hoarsely, Well, boys, let ' s see how it ' ll sound to give nine for Mrs. Mickey! The Seasons (By Ermintrude Martin, ' IS.) A cloud of petals drifting down Before a gentle breeze, To fall upon a verdant ground Prom blossom-laden trees; A throng of yellow butterflies. That float and whir and dip; Some fleecy clouds in azure skies; A bee poised o ' er the lip Of sweet narcissus ' golden cup, With pollen-gilded coat, While he on nectar sweet doth sip; A song-bird ' s single note, From out a bloom-encircled bower, Doth cheer his little mate, Who far below among the flowers On four eggs sits in state. Some yellow asters by the road, The gentian ' s fringe uncurled; The harvest of the seed once sowed In Springtime by the world; The frost has stained the maples red. The beeches clothed in gold; The plants have many songbirds fed From stores of seed they hold; The leaves drop slowly, one by one; The nuts at last are ripe; And thru the woodland sounds the gun, Where once the blackbirds piped. A smoky haze hangs every day; The sun serenely shines Upon a world now red and gay. With dimmed horizon lines. A plaintive bird-note thru the still Of the oppressive heat; Which, from the basswood on the hill. Is hung with perfume sweet. A noonday quiet rest o ' er all, O ' er forest and o ' er field. And to its noiseless, drowsy call All nature needs must yield. Within the cool, dark forest shade The leaves hang wholly still; There comes from out a dusky glade The laughter of a rill. Which rambles lightly to and fro, Like bird-songs thru the rain, Or voices heard long years ago, And to be heard again. The trees stand leafless, sombre-black. Against the dead-white snow. The naked branches eerily, Wave stifly to and fro. They cast fantastic shadows In the cheerless, cold moonlight. And Luna now is hidden By thick black clouds from sight. The snow, a blanket thick and white. Lies softly on the earth; Serene is this December night. The season of Christ ' s birth. The black clouds, edged with silver lace. Pass, and again revealed Are the broad and snowy reaches Of highway, lawn and field. Page twenty-eight

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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

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DELPHIAN, C. E. 8. NINETEEN SIXTEEN SOLD HIS RETURN TICKET This, perhaps, should come as the class prophecy, but the real prophet was not versed in subjects mentioned farther on. Time— 2000 A. D. Place — Gates of Heaven. Person— Bob Tower. As Bob ' s inky paw tapped lightly (?) on the pearly portals, St. Peter came along the path and began to arrange Bob ' s tickets and convey- ance. While doing so, the harmonious strains of the heavenly choir, wafted by the zephyr- like breezes floated to Bob ' s ears. What ' s that noise, rudely interrupted Bob. Our singers, replied old Peter proudly; twenty-five strong, too. For the love of Mike, is that all, scoffed the rude Bob. Why dou ' t you have a decent biinch while you are at it. I ' m an orgauzier, let me get up a creditable affair. You, grunted Peter unimpressed. Yep, me, eagerly replied Bob. Can you get 75,000 sopranos? Peter allowed as how he could. And 75,000 altos? Peter nodded. And 75,000 tenors? Again the waiting Peter nodded. Ah, sighed Bob, now we ' ll have a real bunch. ' ' But I say, Robert, how about the bass and a leader, asked the thoughtful door tender. Oh, never mind that, Pete, ole Kid, inter- rut ed Bob, What, will sing bass and I ' ll lead. When St. Peter came to again he told Bob about the wealth in heaven, how one cent equalled $10,000,000, and one minute 1,000 years. At this Bob was outwardly impressed. Say, Pete, old sport, he interposed after a mo- ment ' s reflection, lend me a cent for a minute. Peter came back gasping for air. Well, Rob- ert, you can start your trip below now, here is your round trip ticket, said Peter between gasps. Bob on reaching the lower regions ran across Hoag, Melntyre and Jones calmly sitting by the roaring furnace enjoying a quiet game of cards. They greeted Bob and asked him to sit down and play cards. I ' m broke, explained Bob, but gwan, let me in. Nothing doing, interposed Mike. Well, I ' ll start out and scare up some coin, replied the crestfallen passenger. A little while later Bob returned with plenty of money. Say, Bob, inquired Mac after Bob ' s pile kept increasing, where did you get the money ? ' ' Sold my return ticket to heaven, replied Bob as he drew an ace out of his pocket. Endynicon (By Grace Densmore, ' 16.) Softly over the world so fair Night drew the curtains of day, There on the mountain, the pine boughs his bed, Endynicon quietly lay. L own thru the soft glowing shadows of night Diana, the Moon-Goddess came. And over her heart at his beauty so rare Came love with its clear, divine flame. 0 Goddess of Night in your chariot of gold For the beauty of mortals you sigh, But the will of the gods must endure to the end And the love in your fond heart must die. Thus Jove, the king of gods on high, Sent Diana his will from above, But she heard not nor hee...ed the gracious command. For her heart was aflame with great love. So she caught up the shepherd so calmly at rest And swiftly came on thru the night, And cast o ' er his spirit a ne ' er ending sleep. Lest time mar his beauty so bright. Thus for gods and for mortals pure love is divine. And thru shadows shine out like the day. And in spite of barriers so strongly built up Is victoiious, immortal for aye. Page twenty-nine