St Francis Xavier Academy - Xavier Yearbook (Providence, RI)

Page 25 text:

THE FRAXCESCA them, mount higher and higher until, becoming wearv, they sink down in the vacancies left by the departing sophomores. After vacation they return with fresh vigor to traverse again the path to fame and glory. Father Time faithfully pursues his way. The months fly before him and June returns to find students reluctantly laying aside their beloved Caesar to revel in vacation sports and pastimes. Many were the hearts that were filled with sadness that June as we parted from the commercial girls. Little did we dream that the future would repeat that scene two years later. Still Old Chronos continued his weary way. July drifted into August, August into September, and the happy juniors, now a distinct body, commenced their weary plodding slowly upward. One new member was added, and together we began our glorious career. Caesar was exchanged for Cicero, and algebra for natural philosophy, while we vainly endeavored to decide whether the Greek and German alphabets were as interesting as geometrical signs and figures. Two young ladies, true daughters of Minerva, abandoned their German loving classmates to travel weary journeys over many para-sangs with Cyrus. In December we proudly boasted of a Nova Scotian student. Her coming brought much sunshine into the class. Now, we were twelve: twelve fun-loving, mischievous girls. How important we felt that year, and with what enthusiasm we elected our class officers, selected our pins and chose our motto! And how proudly we wore those pins and displayed that motto at our entertainment, given in May, our farewell tribute to the senior girls! And so that year passed. The happy twelve parted, joyfully looking forward to the coming year. Fate had ordained otherwise for some of them. One, at least, we were never to see again. The first link was separated from our chain when Sister Mary Teresa left our ranks in answer to that heavenly call “Follow Me.” Thus one departed, and was that the signal for another, and still another? So it seemed. Voices from the West were ever calling “Come back ! come back! Miss Schofield heeded that cry and re- 21

Page 24 text:

THE FRANCESCA CLASS HISTORY. HAT an interesting task it is to follow the varying course of a river as it ceaselessly flows along, and after many windings sweeps into the grand and mighty ocean! How smooth and tranquil it appears, the glorious sun smiling all the while! But, when dark clouds obscure that light from our view, fierce winds sweep impetuously over that once calm surface and drive the waves in angry breakers to the shore. Storms that arise suddenly as suddenly depart. Soon the heavens are again illumined and the sun shines brighter than before. In these respects does the course of a river resemble a school-girl’s life. Such are its lights and shadows, and many the trials and troubles. “Neque enim ignari sumus ante malorutn.” First, as freshmen, we entered the assembly hall, timidly, yet resolved to face the worst. The worst! Nothing but a roomful of harmless girls, laughingly reviewing the past and eagerly surmising the future. Immediately, on our entrance, we are graciously welcomed by the kind principal, who leads us to a group of happy girls, classmates, she tells us. Gradually all reserve melts away in that sunny atmosphere and we become like unto them, feeling every moment more and more at home. One by one other newcomers join us until finally we have become a band of thirty. Can that have been possible ? we now ask ourselves as we gaze at our well-thinned ranks. Tis true. In four short years we have dwindled from thirty to ten. Seventeen girls entered the commercial department and the remaining thirteen embraced the classics. The English course was deserted for awhile, but Latin, in pity, or perhaps fearing jealousy, soon sent two young ladies as peacemakers. Books, books, books follow one another in rapid succession: Algebra, arithmetic, Latin, French, English, history and Christian Doctrine. By this time the poor students are breathless, but with the aid of kind teachers, they take their first steps and, encouraged by 20

Page 26 text:

THE FRANCESCA turned to Kansas City,—her beloved L topia. Did I say another? Alas! yes. September told us that our loved Anna might not tarry long. Soon site, too, had gone. As a consolation, for so it seemed, we received another addition to our class. But the vacancies left by our departed ones still remained vacant. Who could fill their places? we ask, and echo answers, “Xo one.” Three years have flown, and we are again assembled in the loved classroom. Everything is the same but it has a deeper meaning for us now. Are we not the seniors, the so-called lucky seniors, the envy of the lower grades? How they long to reach our height that they may forsake books and work for ever. But how differently we regard our station. What would we not give to have one more year before us! Would we reverse the order of things? Our religion teaches us to say: “Not my will. O Lord, but thine be done.” Rather he oculos suffusi lacrimis” over Aeneas and his wanderings than change the course of events. What glorious prospects lay before us and what ideals we had formed! Although we endeavored to make this year memorable for its perfection, still we can count many failures for many times have we fallen short of our ideal. What has been attained can best be estimated from the record we leave behind us. O year, witness of our joys and sorrows! Our joys—among them the Wednesday conversations when, during two hours, we enjoyed a pleasant ’ar cr vons with our French teacher, Miss Thompson. As for our sorrows, they can be summed up in that one word, Latin, when introduced with such questions as these: ‘‘Who opened the gates of Troy?” “When were they opened?” ‘‘When did the Greek enter the city?” Trivial these may seem, but I beg of you speak not unless you have had experience. Many times we retired from the library (where our Latin period was passed) in despair; but the future lay smilingly before us and success was ever beckoning us onward. Onward we did go, ever full of hope, though sometimes the way was rugged and dreary. Onward! ever onward ! and we finally reached the summit of Parnassus, with 22