St Francis Minor Seminary - Via Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

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! a:aEb-Eo-Eo-zo-a-zo-zo-s-zo-zbgi T IEQCE :Qeecz-e-cz-cz-eez-cz-eoca-c 5th high Q'ant nf Nntp-igaaaing NE hardly stops to think when he writes to his friend during study hour, that the note which he is sending is to have its share of thrills before it reaches its destination. Perhaps it is because the composer is so anxious to receive his friendls nod or sign of disapproval that he does not care how it gets there, just so it does. Perhaps the first person that receives this wicked piece of paper is an industrious Latin essayist, who is wondering why some certain verb should take the accusative with the infinitive and the rest give as much trouble as they can. Sud- ' denly something comes flying through the air and lands on his desk. Seeing that it is a note, he picks it up and reads the name. After doing this, he gives the composer a glance which any man in his right mind would hardly consider a look of thankfulness. Nevertheless, the note is passed to the next man, after a short delay. This fellow picks it up and looks at it. He sees that it is going to So-and-so. Immediately his curiosity is aroused. He attempts to find out who sent it, and why. After he has learned all he can about the note, he tosses it to his next neighbor, perhaps saying something about it. ' This new fellow, having become used to the oth- ers ways, hears him say something. He nods, per- haps not having the least idea of what was said. He then picks up the note, reads the name, and throws it to his next neighbor. One watching this performance would hardly consider his aim per- fect, for the note, which is meant to drop on his neighbors desk, does not stop until it has landed five feet or so to the other side of its mark. After some exaggerated whispering, he finally reaches the ears of his neighbor and explains the error. The note, after a lengthy minute, reaches the one to whom it was sent; but the fellows who served as a pony express are in an entirely dif- ferent state of mind than before the note was sent. When the receiver opens the note, he prob- ably finds that his friend is desirous of knowing whether he is hungry or not, or some other trivial question hardly worth the trouble it causes. eVERNON LAIRD. when Earlier Giallvh H WHAT a beautiful morning! thought I when I awoke one day last June with the sun just creeping over the eastern woods. I dressed, said my morning prayers, and was soon out 'in the field cultivating my assigned piece of corn. It was nearly half a mile from home. The birds were singing gayly, and the flies bit the horses terribly, which always is a good pre- diction of a refreshing rain. I was as gay as the birds and was whistling an old tune when I heard a noise. I paid little attention to it and kept on cultivating. I soon knew what that noise was, for the northwest had become as black' as coal. I knew that we should have a terrible thunder shower, but I kept on cultivating, thinking that the clouds would not come fast. I turned around to cultivate another row, at the end of which I should be another quar- ter mile farther away from home. When I reached the end I realized that I could not get home, but I thought I should try it. In- stead of cultivating, I slapped the line on the'i young horse, which knew that now it had to go in a hurry. The horses, going at a good trot through the rows, broke off many stalks, and I slacked up. I came to the end and, opening the gate, drove through it and.shut it. I was still a half mile from home when it started to rain and hail. It being impossible to hold the horses in a hail, I turned under a big maple tree not far from the buildings. Here they stood quiet to protect themselves from the storm. Now, my father happened to look out from the window of the house in order to see where I was. He saw me, and before I knew it he was beside me, telling me to let the horses stand and get protec- tion under a building. He started for the build- ing, but I lingered awhile, thinking it would stop I3 a '3'3-3-3-3-3'3 3-302: l9 2? jW-e-E-ee-e-ee- G45 araa-sss-sq; Page Thirty-one

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f m N yszo-zo-saa-g-s-s-EOSEOQXGI EEC E :X me-a-e-E-e-e-eoz-cz-e-cac $rati1m Agimua E THANK Thee, Lord, for all these gifts of Thine, Which Thou in mercy hast bestowed on men, To bring us back to love and peace again, When we have strayed so far from love divine, And from Thy grace,-which always is a sign, That we whom Thou dost love, have often been Unworthy of Thy love and blessings, when Such acts as these within us we confine. Forgive, 0 Lord, our poor unworthy past, And grant that in the future we may be Thy servants, ever faithful to the last; To love and praise, and hope in none but Thee, Till we before Thy Throne our spirits cast, And ever more from worldly care are free. eEDMUND STUMPF. r29 Eh? Zliamiliar 71555311; 311 Almaga igaga T WAS Saturday evening. We were expecting gcompany. Our cousin, whom I had never seen, planned to visit us. The letter did not tell us which train to meet. Everyone was busy about his work. There was nothing for me to do, so I looked on. This did not last long, however; soon Mother called me. She told me to go down town, for there was need of two bulbs in the floor lamp. It was rather dark for this time of ex'ening. When I reached the our line, one block away. a mist began to fall. The car was rather crowded, and I was the last to get a seat. I left with the hope that I could get a less crowded car home. When I again boarded a car there were two empty seats, but they were soon occupied. By the next stop there were several standing in the aisle. I remarked to myself how close the air was, and was glad at least that I had a seat. I soon dismissed this proposition from my mind. A young lady was standing in front of me. Thinkng it my place to give her a seat, I did so. The car reached Madison Street. I was glad to get off. I hurried home, for by now the mist had turned into a drizzle. Mother had me put in the bulbs right away. While I was doing this, some- one rapped. Mother opened the door, and who do you think was there? Our cousin, the person to whom I had given my seat. FRANCIS E. LOESCH. I Page Thirty

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f x. ?39-3-3-3-3-3-3-3i33d61 ERCEEje-cacz-e-cz-cz-cae-a-e-ca-c hailing. My father was in the building; as he turned around he saw me still under the tree, which was now nearly stripped by the hail. He called me to come to the building, and this I did, leaving the horses stand alone. When I reached the building, puffing on account of run- ning and being scared, I was wet and bruised from the rain and hailstones. While talking to my father and complaining that those hours of culti- vating were for nothing, I happened to glance at the team, which was standing as quiet as lambs. Just as I glanced that way, a lightning bolt struck the tree, killed the horses and tore t0 splinters the wood on the cultivator. I, standing next to my father, turned white as a sheet. I was glad that I had heeded his call. ARNOLD KUENNEN. A 1mm in the 71515111: hills Do not know of anything so enjoyable and 4 salubrious as a visit to the Black Hills. Here God silently jested with Nature, and endowed it with the most lovable and picturesque forms that the human mind can imagine. They are called ttBlack Hills because they are covered with pine trees which look dark from a distance. Last summer my brother and I paid a visit to this scenic place. We reached Lead, our des- tination, in the morning. After breakfast we hired an Indian guide, and set out for the mouir tains with about three daysi provisions. When we were still in the outskirts of Lead we could already see the majestic peaks hold on high their lofty pinnacles.- Before we started to climb one of the mountains, we crossed a small river. The scenery here reminded me of the famous Hudson and the Catskills, which Irving so beautifully describes in his HRip Van Wily kle. Already the morning haze was beginning to rise as if the mighty hills were offering in- cense to their Omnipotent Creator. As we fol- lowed our guide through the hours of the day, we caught glimpses of one beautiful picture after another. At last we reached the summit of Harney Peak, the highest elevation of the Black Hills. Much of the view from the top of this peak, which projects about twenty-nine hundred feet above the lower plains, is hopelessly indescribable. Far away, cattle may be seen grazing on levels of green, while here and there distant dots in ruffled squares indicate the abodes of sturdy homestead- ers. Close by, all is quiet. The very songbirds seem to respect the solitude. Only an occasional eagle screams out a word of curiosity or defiance as he sails majestically across the projecting points and fathomless pits. The sharp eye may pos- sibly discern a remnant flock of mountain sheep quickly and quietly steal to cover among the in- tricate recesses of crumbling preeipiees. Magnificent ruins of a great silent city seem delicately painted in all shades imaginable. Spires, domes, and towers decorate gorgeous edi- fices, the art of which was little dreamed of by the architects and painters of old. At first comes a feeling of the absurd or grotesque; but, study- ing more closely the meaning of every feature, the spirit of this wondrous handiwork of the Great Creator permeates the beholder, and Vistas of unique loveliness materialize. One leaves this beautiful place with as much reluctance 11s a little boy 01' girl leaves vaca- tion days behind, and responds to the first call of the school bell when the new term is com- mencing. That evening in camp, when all nature had gone to rest and darkness had softly and silently enfolded the monster hills, our Indian guide told us stories. He told us that these hills had once been the playground, hunting ground, and home of his ancestors. He told us of how the white man had dispossessed them of their paradise. He talked in such a pathetic tone that I felt pity for the Indians, and a bitter guilt for my progenitors who had robbed them. Three days later we were again in Lead, wait- ing for an eastbound train. We had indeed vis- ited the fairyland 0f the middle west. I shall ever cherish the happy memory of that excursion trip, and I would advise the people of the great central west not only to say, tt See America First, but to make it more specific and say, HSee the Black Hills First. wHENRY KOLBECK. Qag- ese-e-eee- .G. G Page Thirty-two