Hartford Public High School - Classbook Yearbook (Hartford, CT)

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THE CHRONICLE 255 Yet, how insignificant it is when compared to that of great na- tional leaders. There was a man, reared in a log cabin-you know of whom I speak-who worked on the farm in his youth, hewing trees and fence rails all day and studying by the oil lamp at night, whose school- ing did not amount to more than one year. But this man, Honest Abe, pushed and struggled through trials and hardships to become the most respected, the most beloved president of our nation. And when the great crisis came, he did not Hinchg he accepted the re- sponsibility of civil war and carried through the great confiict regard- less of all opposition. Responsibility! VVho can escape it, no matter what his walk in life may be. It is a solemn thought, appropriate for this time and occasiong for it is with us and such as we-thousands of young people throughout the land who are meeting as we today are met--that the solution of the future problems of city, state, and nation rests. We are the growing youth from whom will be picked the leaders, the men and women who must bear responsibility. We have had superior opportunities. Not only have we received the nine years of education required by law, but four more,-years of cultivation and refinement in one of the best schools in the country, under a corps of most efficient teachers, and above all, under the watchful eyes of two 'most fatherly men. But we are about to leave this school, to enter upon a life less radiant with joys, heavier with cares. Success in it will depend in part-nay, I will venture to say wholly-on how we meet our respon- sibilities. For responsibilities will come, they seem to be a necessary attribute of life. Everyone has apportioned to him a certain number of them. Nor is it the man who bears merely his own who becomes great, it is he who assumes additional responsibilities which exist on every hand, perhaps shunned by their rightful bearers. Is there one among us who intends narrow-mindedly, in self-love, to creep into a corner, avoid every care except that which is thrust upon him by force of necessity, shrink from every duty except the one the reward of which will be poured into his own personal treasury? Is there one of us who will recline on his couch while responsibility waits at his side? Who among us intends seltishly to seek the easiest road possible, hoard every miserly penny, carry it with him to his grave, a useless member of society-- a nothingness in deed and word P ...d

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L... 7254 THE CHRONICLE ORATION RESPONSIBILITY N a recent number of the Atlantic Monthly was set forth most graphically a description of a huge locomotive rushing head- long in its midnight course through a small village. Several miles away the powerful headlight is seen fingering rails and telegraph poles with a shimmer of light. Silently, the twentieth century limited draws nearerg then suddenly it is almost above you. A wild roar of steam and driving wheels, the wail of the hoarse whistle at the cross- ing, and then, looming black against the sky, it smashes past. High in the cab window a motionless figure peers ahead into the night. Suddenly he is blackly silhouetted by the glare of the open fire-door, and in the orange light is seen the fireman swinging back and forth as he feeds his fire. The light burns against the flying steam and smoke above, then blackness-and now the white windows of the Pullman flicker past, and through the swirl of dust and smoke the two red lights sink down the track. Do we realize what this picture means? Imagine this almost animate monster tearing along its path ninety miles an hour, vomiting clouds of crimson smoke from its mouth, the oil reeking from its pant- ing sides. Ahead of the long body of the locomotive, extending in- credibly beyond the small front windows of the cab, the trackg from side to side the engine rocking like a plunging derelict, and, huddled up in the monster's very heart sits a motionless figure, his hand finger- ing throttle and air-brake. Looking far back, all is darkness, except the shining squares of light from the Pullmans. Here is his care, hundreds of souls peacefully sleeping and unaware. Here is his responsibility. What a responsibility! Again, is there any picture which brings more vividly to mind, closer to heart, what responsibility is, than that of a gorgeously fitted, modern vessel, an Imperator, as she plows the ocean, a massive bulk, darkly outlined against merging sea and sky? Aboard, her thousands of passengers are dreaming, it may be, of home and friends. Their trust lies in one man. There he stands aloft on the bridge, peering into the dark, a mere man guiding this leviathan of steel with its precious burden of human souls over the perilous deeps. Realize his responsibility. VVhat a responsibility!

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L. 256 THF CHRONICLE If there be such a one, he must be content to wear the brand, the shameful brand, of cowardly failure. Let us, then, enter upon our new life with the determination to push bravely into the midst of duties. Let us not, in hopeful expec- tation, wait for our ship to come in, while the hum of ambition, thrift, and determination is heard around us. NVhen responsibility beckons, let us push forward, bear bravely up, even though the load be heavy, even though we may not be then rewarded. The greater responsibili- ties are rewarded only by their dutiful and successful fulfillment. Those who have experienced and bravely borne, even this early time in life, heavier burdens than most of us should not be discouraged, for they will be better fitted to assume greater burdens in the future. Others of us may well take these as an example, and bear our smaller responsibilities as bravely, that we may be better qualified to cope with greater ones. Let us all look not, standing upon tiptoe, into the future, dazzling with imagination. Live in the present. Perform the little, simple duties first, then push forward to mightier achievements. Pr0grcdc're ad S1l'I111l11l1'1Z'fU F. PAUL EAsr.AND. -,iii-il ESSAY THE THOUGHTS WHICH REMAIN OW that weihave all but finished our High School course, ex- aminations, essays, and homework being 'a thing of the past, just what are the memories of our life here which hold fore- most place in our minds today? Are they bitter thoughts of the awful nights before exams, or of the times we have given up pleasures for the sake of studies? Are they thoughts of joy because no longer shall we be confronted with a formidable array of books, dismal reminders of work to be done? Far from it! Instead, I believe I am perfectly safe in saying that there is scarcely a person in the Class of-1914 who has not overlooked all these disagreeable points and now is thinking regret- fully that his days in the High School are numbered. Confidently assuming that this is the general frame of mind, I shall take advantage of such amiability of spirit to recall to you scenes of our life here,