Hobart Senior High School - Memories Yearbook (Hobart, IN)

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. 29 Ah, the world can not explain the mysterious resource that marked the checkered career of this strange product of the forest! The secret is still hidden. Reared among the most primitive influences, struggling from infancy in obscurity and poverty, yet compelling the wondering admiration of the great English generals; untrained in diplomacy, yet the savior of one of the world’s greatest nations. Prom such depths derived, to such heights ascended, her flight mocks the eye of reason. A peasant girl of eighteen thrust to the nation’s helm amid such a conflict as seldom ever smote a people. The simple girl of the country was called, as in a single night, to responsibility as great as was ever laid on human shoulders. Ah, faithful Joan ! Little did she know what sacrifice, greater by far than any she had yet made, was to follow. Though she gained many friends, the number of her enemies was even greater. Her life was ever in peril. The king forced her to stay in his court, but the nobles, mad with jealousy, could not stand this. A peasant maid to associate with them, the proud aristocrats, was too much ! One day a brave nobleman betrayed her to the English ! She was accused of witchcraft, of being a heretic. She was caged like a bird. She was chained like some ferocious monster. But where was the king now, and all those for whom she had done so much? From the moment of her capture neither the king nor any man in all his court raised a finger to save her. All alone she was, without a friend to defend her. Thus the world rewards those who serve it. After many trials she was pronounced guilty and sentenced to death. And there in the shadow of the old cathedral she was bound to the stake and burned. It seems like a hideous dream more than a reality. She had given up her youth, home, and freedom to save her country. Now she gave her life. Greater love than this hath no man shown. This for her country! And for herself? For herself a name honored on every shore, a memory forever cher- ished by her countrymen; and, among the children of God, a martyr’s crown. It is many years since death came to Joan of Arc, stilling that beautiful human heart that beat so loyally for the cause of her country. In the place where she burned a large stone cross has been raised, but no monument nor page of history can add to her fame and glory. The French nation has given her immortality. “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” What approaches nearest to the explanation of it all is, when stated, “It is but a mystery.” Joan of Arc was a separate gift from the Hand of Him who maketh one star differ from another in glory. Raised up as surely as ever was Moses of old for the performance of a stupendous task, called from the obscurity of her simple home to the great theatre that awaited her, she was equipped by that Almighty Hand according to her need, endowed by her infinite Love and Wisdom for her mighty mission.

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. 28 unabated. The lives of the truly great ever have been marked by a marvelous capacity for hopefulness in the face of discouraging circumstances. How have they attained the honored position they hold? Not by rank, for many were of lowly birth. Not by wealth, for the inheritance of not a few has been poverty. But the battle was won by having one dominant aim in life, unceasing energy, and patient perseverance. The days went by. At last she could no longer resist the call of her country and again sought the governor. There seemed to be something so honest, so strange, so persistent about her that he sent her to the Dauphin, the uncrowned king. lie, too, was cautious; but as Orleans was at the point of surrender and things were coming to a desperate pass, he allowed her to have her way. And so, on an old white charger, bearing the banner of France, at the head of a strange, enthusiastic, and formidable army was Joan, ready to win or die. Through the walled towns and encampments, gathering up whoever would follow her, she passed until she arrived at Orleans. The battle is over! The first victory won! The passion of liberty thrills her! A vision of France once more free! Ah, and peace! Peace! So, against the other fortifications of the English, she carried on her holy war. The voices, the same voices that inspired her at first, ever led her and faithfully, faithfully did she follow them. From battle to victory, through war to peace, they were ever before her. And above the hissing of the shot, roaring of the cannon, the groaning of the dying is heard the voice of Joan cheering her men on to victory. Cheering, encouraging, stimulating the soldiers to daring deeds, making them eager to fight! Eager to die! For France! for Freedom! Town after town is theirs once more. In vain the English attempt to mend their broken ranks. Slowly, but surely, they retreat and leave France victor- ious. Her country, her France at last is saved! The king wished to heap great rewards and royal honors upon her. But no ! Her only desire was to see him crowned king at Rheims. So, urged on by her, in spite of incredible difficulties, with great reluctance he entered the recaptured city and was crowned by the archbishop in the cathedral there. Her mission was accomplished. Her promise was fulfilled. She had given a king to France and France to its king. Not by might, not by power, but by undaunted courage and perseverance had she done it. She asked no other reward for her magnificent service than to be allowed to go back to her father and her humble home. Marvelous indeed was it all. Can ever such unselfish- ness, such heroism, such patriotism be forgotten? The title of great has been given to Napoleon, but he was instilled with a greed for conquest; the title of great has been given to Wellington, but he had the best marshalled, the best equipped army that ever appeared on the battlefield. But the Maid of Orleans ?

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30 HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. FRED W. FRANK. WE began our High School career, we looked forward with various emotions to the lessons and studies with which we were to labor and worry during the year and indeed during all the four years in which we were to attend High School. In much the same manner we now view future labors since another epoch in our Jives appears. Some of us looked with awe upon the subjects we were starting and handled our books as though they were hallowed objects; some of us tried to have a good time and put on airs, because we were High School students, but the most of us took things in a matter-of-fact way and settled down to hard work that brought us the best of grades. So when we took up Botany it was with different feelings that each of us did our duty. We were worried at first by the alarming tales of mighty ones who had already passed through the mill of science which has turned them into Edisons, Marconis, Galileos or Burroughses. But as we progressed, these tales lost their proportions and gave place to stories of our own struggles which we have treasured up for those who are to follow in our footsteps. So our first year of science passed on without events other than the receiving of grades and writing articles for the school notes. Now the only reminder of our year’s toil are a few note books and mounted specimens which