Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

Page 26 text:

3im’B iHialakp. JT in the cool evening air Jim whistled softly, “One more scrape and out you go. Whew ! and the worst of it is that he looked as if he meant it. Well, I suppose it will be the straight and narrow for me until Commencement Day, or fond papa will be welcoming back a prodigal son in place of a bud- ding young lawyer.” And with such cheerful thoughts running riot through his brain, Jim Conry, Senior, sprinter and “good fellow,” started aimlessly across the campus towards the town whose lights were twinkling in the distance. His visit to the Dean’s sanctum, the fourth in as many months, had left a rather vivid impress on his mind, and he wished to have plenty of time to think the matter over before returning to his room to undergo the good-natured guying of his room- mate. For the first time in his young life Jim was really worried. Somehow or other, it seemed to him that misfortune had been camping steadily on his trail during this, his last year at school. Thick and fast the troubles had been falling upon him, and now they threatened to bury him completely, and rend asunder entirely all his bright hopes of a brilliant law career. All his little irregularities — his “failings,” he called them — during the year had, in some manner, found their way to the ears of the Dean, and had contrived to. “put him in bad,” as he expressed it, with the school authorities. Deep down in his heart he admitted that they were justified in their stand. But what was the use of living if a person could not have a little fun occasionally. Taken all in all, it seemed to him that the Dean was magni- fying his offenses far beyond their true limit. For instance, why make so much fuss over his last bit of foolishness? All he had done was to touch the lighted end of his cigar to the stump of a brindle pup’s tail, as the dog stood pugnaciously on the edge of the College swimming pool; and if the dog, in the first paroxysm of excitement, had jumped into the water, (24)

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3’m aii (Eonigl)!. I’m sad tonight — Aglow on high, wan planets dog the moon, And tortured winds my open shutter rack, And vainly beat, like madding seas against The myriad corals’ tiny sepulchres. Below the ghastly conclave of the clouds. That solemn roll, so phantom-like and gray They rave and beat — as beats my heart tonight, Against the ghastly thought that tears my breast. — For I am sad tonight. I’m sad tonight — O sad ! so sad and drear ! — and awesome strains, Like those stupendous planet choirs, to mate A-down illimit realms of void; as sobs The mighty sea, when ’round his vasty heart The ice-pack grips — sobs he and ble nds his wail With the moaning dirge of the fleeting wind above. That mute white faces fathoms deep behold Of sailor lads — these strains my heart-beats sing, — For I am sad tonight. I’m sad tonight— All nature wails with me ; as plaints the bird That sees the snow-cloud hide the cherished nest Of offspring fledged, alas! too late; as sobs The cage-pent desert lion, head twixt paws. While far on free Iberian plains his mate God-speeds her plaintive lonely call to him That stirs his mighty heart — Oh! friend, mock not. For desolation gnaws my soul — weep, too. For I am sad tonight. Ralph J. Sybert, ’i6. (23)

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dragging his young mistress along, and interfering seriously with the big inter-class relay, why, it wasn’t really his fault. The thing was done merely on the impulse of the moment; and how was he to have known that the brute would misbe- have so badly. Unfortunately, his previous trips to the office, for similar misdeeds, had militated against him. Hence the peremptory warning. Emerging, after various detours, into one of the main streets of the town, he was surprised to see, a little distance ahead of him, a group of Sophomores, seemingly intent upon a mission of great urgency. His curiosity aroused, he deter- mined to follow them closely, to see what new deviltries they were about to perpetrate. Two squares down the street the crowd stopped and held a short conference, whereupon a large touring car drew up to the curb nearby, and one of Jim’s Sophomore friends, a youngster named Dick Nealy, jumped out. On the arrival of the newcomer the others suddenly disappeared, slinking around the corner towards the main en- trance of the Opera House, the largest theatre that the town boasted. Still in the dark as to their plans, the Senior crept up past the now stationary automobile and hid in the shadow of a doorway, from where he could get a good view of most of the revelers, and, at the same time, listen to their conversation. His curiosity was soon allayed. Hardly had he taken his place in the dark recess when one of the “Sophs,” seeking as- surance of their plo t’s success, whispered loudly to Nealy, asking if everything was sure to be O. K. “Are you sure he’s in there, even?” he asked. “Oh, he’s in there, all right,” responded Nealy; “but he won’t be there long. Nan promised me she’d have him out here on the pavement at nine o’clock, just after the end of the first act. She’s as anxious to succeed in this as we. Since Clayton has been made president of the class he’s been insuf- ferable, and Nan thinks it about time that some of the conceit were taken out of him.” In a flash it all came to Jim. The Sophomore class banquet was set for the following evening, and what was more natural to suppose than that the banqueters desired to have Clayton, the cock-sure head of the Freshman class, as their special guest. But who Nan was, and why she should be in the plot, was beyond him. (25)