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

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f A N esa-s-a-s-s-g-s-s-s-sggl ERCE ?:chwE-ch-cz-cz-ca'e-a-G-ca-c Swine Al? lEnfnrtunatp T WAS a very fine morning. My father, brother, Cy and I were spreading shocks of oats because it had rained the previous night; the shocks, if not spread to dry, would have been too wet to store away into the barn. It was about nine oiclock that morning, while we were very busy spreading the shocks, that my father noticed great rolls of smoke rising from behind a distant woods. The smoke became thicker and rose higher. I said at once that it must be a farmeris barn which had been set on fire, either by the combustion of wet grain or by the sparks of a locomotive. The smoke became still heavier. It looked as though there were an oil well burning. All of a sudden fierce flames arose amidst the thick smoke. Aroused by this exciting scene, we forgot our work and rushed to the road, where we got a ride in a short while. Rides were easy to get, because lines of autos sped to the big fire. When we arrived there, what did we see? Ah! We saw a fire, the like of which had not been witnessed by many. Fierce flames were devouring an immense structure which was filled with many tons of hay, many loads of grain, and much ma- chinery, the best of which was a thresher. This was all caused by the explosion of a lite tle two-horsepower gasoline engine Which some- one had tried to start in order to pump some water. The house and some other small buildings near it were protected by the many hands that helped to carry water to keep all sparks from starting a flame. Yes! It was a sad sight. It was a fire that was left to burn at its will. The flames devoured the large barn as a- wolf does its prey. Timber after timber, board after board, fell into the fire ,till nothing but a pile of ashes remained. This is one of the many instances in which the farmer is very unfortunate. On an occasion like this, he cannot call the assistance of a. fire department to check the flames, but can only be- hold the violence of the blaze, as it devours his costly possessions, and become discouraged. -ROBERT STANGEL. Glhnnzing A Huratinn HAT are you going to be when you become a man? This is a question that is frequently put to a little child. In response it will say, in its childish tongue, in whatever state of life it is particularly interested. It has been shown by many striking examples how a child, after having expressed its desire to choose a certain vocation, will direct all its ambitions to that cause. The time at which boys should think seriously about the choice of a vocation is when they are about to graduate from the grades. It is true there are but few that are chosen for that sublime vocation of the holy priesthood. Many of these, however, are doubtful as to whether they should take the step or not. This uncertainty often shows good qualities in a boy, for it plainly mani- fests carefulness and seriousness in selecting a vocation. If, however, one is impeded by doubts, the most efficacious means to obtain guidance is by prayer. If one confides in the Almighty Power, he is safe to select a vocation, and at the same time feel that he is doing rightly. A very permanent obstacle that impedes many , boys in selecting a vocation is interference on the part of parents. It is a grave injustice on their part to select vocations for their children. Parents do not know what the boy likes, nor do they know what state of life is most appropriate for him. Therefore it behooves parents to refrain from such intervention. If the boy is at liberty to choose his vocation, he will have someone to praise for happiness and success in his future life, and will have no one to blame for sorrow or failure. eJOSEPH STAGL. - 3-33-sz '92? Q36: ere;- - Page Fortysmlne

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f L x. :33-3-3-3-3-3-33 32:93:61 ERC EZQG-cze-e-cacz-ee-cz-e-ca-c 11mm fur Glhriztmas---T$g a $trrtrh WAS thirteen years old, and, it being my first J year at college, I was anxiously awaiting Christmas vacation. I had my fare, and was ready to go home as soon as the time arrived. At last it came. The other fellows from my home town and I went to the Northwestern depot to take the early train. It was threeethirty in the morning when we arrived there. The train was to leave at four-ten. We passed the time as well as we could until the time came to buy our tickets. The ticket agent opened the window and I ordered a ticket for Marquette. As he was about to hand it to me I gave him at check. He refused to take it because I had no identification. Now, what was I to do? It was four 0,clock in the morning; ten minutes to train time; no banks open so I could cash my check. Well, a friend and I dashed around to the neighboring places of business trying to cash the check, but in vain. We returned to the depot all fatigued. I was despairing. I thought I should have to wait for the next train, and go home alone. Finally, a thought came to my mind. I reached for my pocketbook, and took out three dollars. I bor- rowed two more from my friends. They looked at me in amazement. Then, with three minutes to go, I hurried to the ticket window and, crouching down to make myself look smaller, I ordered a half fare ticket to Marquette. I received the ticket rejoicing, but I still had one more obstacle to overcome: to get by the con- ductor without him suspecting me. This set my brains working again, but they appeared to be failing me. I was on the train already, and we were well on our way. Soon I saw the conductor enter the front door of the coach and begin to collect the tickets. This gave me more chance to think be- cause I was sitting toward the rear of the coach. He kept coming closer and closer, and soon he was four seats from me. I tried to devise some scheme, but it seemed impossible. Just then I hap- pened to glance around, and I saw a man sleep- ing with his ticket in his hat. This gave me an idea. I immediately doubled up in my chair, cov- ered myself with my overcoat, put my ticket in my cap and apparently fell asleep. A few mine utes later I felt the conductor pull the ticket from my cap, and then put the stub back again. When he was gone I heaved a sigh of relief, sat back in my chair and enjoyed the remainder of my journey in peace. -RAYM0ND SCHVVEMIN. 111111; New iHipP AY, did you ever try to break in a new pipe? Well, I did once. I bought a fine looking pipe, all shiny in a thick coat of red varnish, for fifty cents. At home I filled the pipe with some old dry Plow Boy and went to a nearby wood. I found a nice seat behind a large tree, and lit the pipe. The first few puffs tasted fine. After a few more puffs I tasted more varnish than tobacco. My stomach didnlt feel right. My neck seemed to be of rubber, and my head was turning com- pletely around. I seemed to be balancing on the top of a high wall. I heard a titter from behind me and I knew who it was. It was a friend who had followed me. Now I was angry and deter- mined not to tip out the tobacco. I took another puff. The wall seemed to be swaying more and more. My face must have registered my feelings for another titter came to my ears. Yet another titter came to my ears, and the pipe found its way to my mouth, which seemed trying to avoid the pipe. Hatefully I took another puff, and the wall was falling, falling, and down. I became conscious of the jeers of my comrades, of whom there seemed to be a great crowd. I would not show the white feather, so I put the pipe into - my mouth; but thank goodness, the pipe had gone out. Moral: Never smoke a pipe with too much valL nish. --ADRIAN TROST. Page Forty-eivght 3Q I927239e-ww-

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f A N :33-29-593-3-3-3-3-33Qi61EQCE ?chE-e-e-e-cz-a-ae-a-e-ca-c What a Eiifervnrp 3'11 makw HE memorable twentyrfifth of December brings to our minds, first of all, worldly thoughts such as gifts, merry gatherings, and especially the spending of the holidays with our parents at home. But in the mind of every true Christian there also tarries fond memories of that first Christmas nineteen hundred years ago. We love to think of this sublime incident be- cause of the exhibition of the supreme love as- sociated with it. As we look back we can picture the rugged crib; we see the Divine Babe murmur- ing from the bitter cold; we see Mary, his Mother, answering His plaintive cry; and there, close at hand, is Joseph, trying to shut out the cold wind from his spouse and the Child; we hear the angels chanting the HGloria in Excelsis Deofi we vis- ualize the three kings adoring and offering gold, frankincense and myrrh; the shepherds are gazing with loving eyes at their long-sought-for Re- deemer. We are moved with awe at the simplicity in which this Saviour of the world came: a poor infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying on a bed of straw in a little stable at Bethlehem. While this holy thought occupies our minds, most probably this question will come to us: HWhat if this divine incident had never 0c. curred? Our answer to this is that history would be entirely changed, because the Catholic Church has played a great part in the history of the world; that we, as the people of old, would be praying to God to send the promised Messiah. eFRANCIS J. TENPENNY. . MW ssa- w t gm A Winter Scene. tujg-E'E'mE-E-G-E'CE-G-G 3E9- sagasmgi Page Fifty