Marywood Academy - Veritas Yearbook (Grand Rapids, MI)

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Y li R I 'I' A S f'The hut contained only one large room, rudely furnished. What impressed me most was its cleanliness. Therein did this differ from the other hflexican huts. I sat down and she prepared the food, quietly, but efficiently. Still, no word escaped her compressed lips. What motive had prompted her finally to allow my entrance? VVhile I hungrily ate, she kept her steady eyes upon me. At last, my hunger was satisfied, my thirst was quenched. Looking up, I noticed that her lips parted two or three times as if to speak, and quickly snapped together again. Something bothered her and she felt she must, for her own peace of mind, tell someone. At last she made a final effort, and to my astonished ears came forth this story: Less than a year ago another weary prospector had stopped at that very door. She had allowed his entrance with abso- lutely no hesitation. Her husband had come out to make the greeting even more gracious. The man hungrily had devoured the food and unsatisfied with this, had asked for a large quantity of money. Her husband refused this request and the man, half crazed by his wanderings, engaged in a fight with her husband, finally killing him. Since then she had dwelt there alone, distrusting everyone. All were turned from her door. Yet, she said, something in my condition rekindled a spark of pity in her and she sought signs of unfaithfulness in my countenance. Something told her that all men were not unfaithful to a trust and she took the chance. Now, concluded Mr. Jones, as men Will, had it not been for the chance that woman took I should not be here to tell you this story tonight. -H ELEN IVICKENNA, '26. KING HENRY THE FIFTH King Henry the Fifth, with whom we became so intimately acquainted in Henry the Fourth as the jolly good--for-nothing, foppish Prince Hal, now appears to us as the majestic, powerful, and royal sovereign. He is what we call a developing character. To prove this fact we must review his youth as does the Archbishop of Canterbury in the opening scene of King Henry the Fifth. Hal, the Prince of VVales and heir apparent to the throne of England, was a mis- chievous but honorable young man. We see him exchanging jokes, punning Words, and coining names with old Falstaff. Yes, it is he who goes on the robbing expedition, and he who is found joking in the tavern. Do we admire such a man? Certainly we do not admire his associates and their questionable habits, yet it is his own will power that keeps him from drinking, rectifies the thieving and makes good the debts of his friend. Is not this the test? Then as suddenly as a butterfly emerges from the Chrysalis, we see him rise from that life, lead a vast army, and Hnally kill Harry Hotspur. After the death of his father, we recognize that same jovial Hal, reluctantly assuming the responsibility of the crown, debating in commercial affairs, discoursing of war and fearful battles as if that had been his study. Now we see him carrying the affairs of his kingdom. He is business-like and blunt, allowing no time for trifling with his courtiers. He is determined in his treat- ment of the Dauphin and holds to his opinion regarding the seizure of lands. He is self-reliant and independent. He respected the opinions of the Lords merely through policy, as he always used his own judgment in settling any matters of importance. We admire him now and realize his greatness, while before we were apt to appre- ciate him more for his wit. -EIQGENIA SCHMITZ, y27. 1 9 2 6-I I Inge I'l1uly eight

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'Q 'f ii I 'li .X S around, however, to make the temptation less for him. He has promised not to eat the cut-worm until the job is finished. The worm is ignorant of his fate. VVell, Frankie, keep your hopes buoyed up, your day of sorrow is almost over. Fkaonnz FIRE-FLY. vis ek- fif- Botlle Letters was also reprinted by the educational magazine, Catholic School Interests, with the following comment: Bottle Lrltrrx is reprinted from the January 9th number of The Srholaslir, a national magazine for the schoolroom. The issue from which this richly imaginative, and pleasingly simple bit is clipped was a student- written number, but among the more than forty contributors of prose and verse, Illary Irene Miller was the only representative of a Catholic school. The article is not reprinted because of this last fact, but because it ranked by far as the most delightful offering in the issue. The editors themselves called attention to its unusual merit. WANDERING IN THE MEXICAN W ASTE LAN D Illr. jones was known at his club as the Prospector. In fact, the man had even secretly sought for minerals and precious metals in his own back yard. But that does not say that he had not done prospecting on a larger scale. The story of his adven- tures in the Mexicaii Wastelands was well known at the club, but whenever a new man was pledged, each member had to provide some little thing in the way of enter- tainment, and Nlr. Jones invariably told his story. One cold winter night, after Mr. j. ll. Hazing's initiation, the members settled in the lounging room and IVIr. Jones, after filling and lighting his pipe, proceeded with his st01'y as an opening of the even- ing's program. To begin with, IVIr. Hazing, let me tell you I am the hero of the story. In the exceptionally hot summer of 1900 I was making my way through the thinly inhabited Nlexican VVasteland in search of precious metals which lay beyond. The very few and far between houses I had come across proved to be deserted. For five long days the flaming desert sun, unguarded by trees, streamed upon me. Its rays reflecting on the sand and clay beneath my feet, dazzled my eyes already none too strong. Iyly poor pack mule, weary with starvation and wandering, staggered blindly and obediently along, its poor head drooping almost to the very ground. One day, well along toward sunset, I came upon an adobe hut at first almost indiscernable, owing to the fact that a large spreading growth of cactus almost obscured it from view. Summoning all my remaining strength I stumbled toward the door of the shack. The bristly cactus impeded my progress and it seemed as if I never could reach my goal. I knocked- yet it could scarcely be called a knock, the rapping of a child could better be heard. After what seemed almost an eternity of waiting, the old rusty door opened part way on its creaking hinges and a tall, forbidding looking woman stood on the threshold. Her black eyes took in my whole appearance with one long, steady gaze. She was like a statue, so immovable did she seem. .In a voice so weak it could scarcely be recognized as my own, I began haltingly to ask for the food and drink which I sought. For an intense instant her expression changed. There was a slight shifting of her eyes toward the rear of the hut, but only for an instant, and she regained that steady gaze. Even during these few tense seconds my strength was rapidly waning. Was this chance of aid to come to naught? Finally, it seemed that millions of thoughts and questions had rapidly passed through her mind before she wearily nodded that I was to come in, and stood aside as I entered. I 9 'I I3 Page Tlurly 1 un

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X' if R I 'I' A S A SPRING REVERIE A soft, drowsy whistle, and then a throbbing, melodious song colored with the whole earnest soul of the tiny feathered songster burst forth upon the clear air. Gentle breezes, like angels' breath tenderly kiss the sleeping buttercups, and gently open the chalices of molten gold, so lately closed in peaceful repose. Tiny lambs frolic to and fro on the verdant meadows. The bubbling laughter of the cool, sparkling brooklet awakens another member of this rustic society, and Jack curls out his leaves and ascends to his pulpit. Far above his head, faint tints of azure softly merge into purple and along the horizon, a ruddy glow lights the heavens. Slowly the rose- crowned Goddess of Dawn is lifting the heavy mantle of darkness and the sun's fiery steeds foaming and bristling dart forth with the jewel-studded chariot of Apollo. Here I am enjoying one of the most beautiful sights of nature,-but did I say Apollo? Yes. New visions arise before me. I seem to stand upon the Capitoline Hill in sunny Italy. Above me are olive groves laden with choicest fruits. I tear myself away from all this beauty, and in the distance I behold Rome in all its glory. The Forum is dese1'ted, except for a few merchants, but to me it is peopled with throngs, arrayed in togas, speaking, selling, trading, Caesar and Cicero bowing to the expectant people. Farther on are the famous Baths, resplendent in luxury, and as my eye travels onward I behold the Coliseum. That vast structure is now crumbling ruins but in my glowing imagination it is crowded with Romans spell-bound by some gladiatorial feat or gazing with blood-thirsty eyes upon the dying martyrs. The Christians to the Lions -rings on the clear air, and there with eyes raised toward heaven those valiant heroes of Christ meet their death. Again it is a chariot race, stupendous, spectacular, glowing with interest and excitement. Then, as I turn my gaze farther I behold the Appian VVay, the Claudian Aqueduct and the other marvels of the Ancient World, and of Rome, the city of the seven hills. VVhat thoughts they bring to my mind. What hours I could spend in contemplation! But alas! I find myself at a little American countryside brought back to stern reality. --EUGENIA SCHMITZ, '27. MY FAVORITE CHARACTER I believe I have found my favorite character in a book just recently read. The book was The Crisis and the character-Stephen Brice. He is to my mind, truly an ideal. A man of principle, possessing those sterling qualities that make up the char- acter of a true gentleman. Not a too-good-to-be-true character that is hardly ever found, but an honest-to-goodness one that occasionally one meets in his everyday life. Loyalty to God and country, fine feeling of fellowship and respect for womanhood are among the most prominent of his characteristics. Accompanying these we find a delightful, tingling sense of humor. Never once does a shadow of fear cross the reader's mind that he will show the least streak of cowardice. Whenever he steps into the chapter you feel as though you are reading something worth while. And I attribute all these qualities and virtues to the fact that he set up his ideal and with steadfast determination gradually perfected his character towards that ideal, none other than our own Abraham Ilincoln. --LOYOLA KIRCHHOFF, '27. 1926 at Pug Thirty nine