Mechanic Arts High School - M Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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SENIOR CLASS

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TO D. LANGE, who for ten years has been principal of Me- chanic Arts High School, this book is sin- cerely dedicated. TO MR. LANGE By LoRELL SHUGART The calm of quiet rain rests in his eyes, The snow of years has drifted in his hair, His fleeting smile is kind yet strangely wise And really hides a silent loving care. He knows of shadows where sweet flowers grow, The lore of woods is as an open book, He knows where all the laughing brooklets How And each wild creature's dimly shadowed nook. All nature claims him for her very own But kindly lends him to us for our friendg The goodness of his heart to us is known, His joy in nature and his kindness blend. His friends unnumbered as' the golden sands, We love and honor one who understands.

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u yr O me terms. TDH rm me M g Ml Dmitrils Homecoming By LoRELL SHUGART OBShlonely, broken sobs made the freezing Russian night seem more cruel and cold. And the thoughts which aroused the sobs were these: Ah, the bitterness of it alll Tomorrow night will be Christmas Eve. How joyous will be my mother and father and my two little sisters, happy even without me in the glad anticipation of the morning! Little eleven-year-old Dmitri only two months before had been apprenticed to the old man in whose cabin he was now sup- posed to be asleep. He had been hired out so that through his aid a tiny stream of money would let his small sisters go to school in the little village where he longed so to be, The village, so many long Rus- sian miles away-Dmitri could imagine the lights of it gleaming at him across the snowy miles-was so warm and friendly, His sobs grew heavier and more broken. Oh, how he loved the village and the kind people it shel- tered! He was so alone, so friendlessl Christmas Eve would be bitterly sad- But yet-the village could not be so very far away. Hope, a tiny flame, arose in Dmitri's lonely, childish breast and quieted his sobs. If he hurriedg if he started now, now, before the tired sun was completely hiddenl Dmitri rubbed a hole in the frost of the win- dow pane and looked out. The sun had only laid his chin on the gray wood. He would hurry to put on his heavy jacket and his high boots and with his fur cap and gloves surely he would not be cold. Action followed thought and Dmitri clambered into his clothes. He was going to walk to his beloved village. He knew the way. He had come before with his father in the spring time to visit the old man who now thought him so sound asleep. He must take the path that led across the now frozen lake and enter the dim forest. Once the forest was passed only a short, short distance separated him from the longed- for village. ' Dmitri crept quietly through the warm rooms of the little cabin to the heavy door. There was a slight creaking of bolts, and the cold snow and icy air were his only com- panions. Filled with the exuberance of extreme youth, he trotted forth gaily, almost run- ning at first in his eagerness. Even the frosty winds seemed to carry a message of cheer in each biting blast. On, on, he went across the tangled frozen underbrush, his short legs stumbling through drifts and broken stubble. His breath was coming harder now and he stumbled more often: once he almost fell, but there just ahead was the gleaming ice-clad lake. It would be easier going across the lake, The sun had died nowg only a faintly rosy glow lingered beyond the horizon of dark trees, a rosy glow like the blood of a slain hero. The lake was frigid and stiff in its slip- pery coat. Dmitri wondered if the sun could ever be warm again, warm enough to melt this chilling armour of the lake, His round, red cheeks smarted from the blasts of the deceitful wind, that but a short time past had seemed so friendly. The crimson glow of the sun was quite gone now: everything was dimly, coldly blue. A pale, frozen moon gleamed far above and a few lonely stars shivered in the far sky. Dmitri looked at them and thought of the lights of his vil- lage which would be so warm and friendly after the distant shivering of the stars, How glad everyone would be to see him even though he had run awayl He could almost feel the warmth of his mother's caress. He must not stop to thinkg the time was too short. How bitter cold it wasl It seemed as though he had walked hundreds of miles. The lake border was near now and then beyond was the black forest, so dark and mysterious looking. How Dmitri loved it in the summer, with the tall, strong trees and the tiny, sturdy flowers! Once in the sum- mer he had seen a wolf, a mangy, ragged- looking creature. They were more plenti- ful nowg it was said they went in hungry packs. Dmitri couldn't blame them for be- ing hungry in all this coldg he too, was hungry. In his hurry he had forgotten to take anything to eat. How cold his fingers were! The stars were more plentiful now, but their frosty gleaming made the cold seem more intense. The round moon was like an icy mirror,