St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 16 text:

Glnntentment EACE is the cry from the mariner's heart, When bestormed on the trackless expanse Of fathomless waters where no friendly mart Stands a bulwark to grim death's advance. Peace cries the Thracian in fury of war, For peace prays the Parthian boldg But it never was shaped by an artisan's lore, Nor bartered for purple or gold. For the cares of the mind are not driven away By the sweep of a king's stately traing And a jewel bedecked and a smiling array Cannot solace a soul's secret pain. Why for the baubles of life do We slave, And bandy with Vanishing time, If burdened with riches we sink in a grave, While seeking a halcyon clime? Worry can compass a brass armored ship, Can outdistance the Heetest of steedsg And noiseless and thicker than mist it will slip Into castles and strongholds of greed. Ah! blessed is he and peaceful his days, Who frets not of his frugal boardg But smiles with content as the sun's parting rays Gild the hovel that claims him its lord. Chas. B. Lafferty.

Page 15 text:

WHITHERWARD 13 happy. The possession spoken of is not material possession but rather the possession of the object by the soul. We must find some object which is in itself infinite goodness and truth, for we can only find complete satisfaction of the desires of our higher faculties in such a being. And such a being will be the being toward which man tends as his last end. There is only one such being in all the universe. That being is God, Who is infinitely perfect in all things and incapable of any trace of evil. In Him alone will man find the satisfaction of all his desires: that happiness and peace which he is always seeking. Man's happiness will be found in the knowledge and contemplation of his Creator's per- fections, that is in the exercise of his highest faculties in the highest possible manner. Hence the conclusion forces itself upon us, that the object toward which man tends as his last end is God, and that happiness consists in the pos- session of God. For it is only then that man will reach his greatest perfection in the unlimited use of his highest fac- ulties. When we are inquiring into man's last end, this con- clusion is the only reasonable one. Look as far as we may, read what books we choose, or listen to what theories we can, the only answer we can give, and feel confident in the giving, when asked: Why are you here? is the old- fashioned, true one learned by all of us when scarcely able to pronounce the words: God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in the next. W. F. M ahoney.

Page 17 text:

Big 69112 7.3251 Bunk HE last sheet fluttered from the typewriter. I slipped the cover tenderly over the faith- ' ' 1. l ll a ful machine, filled my pipe, and lounged deep in an easy-chair. On the back of an old envelope I figured my probable royal- ties. The book undoubtedly would be a seller, as I had written it with an eye to please the cranky bookreader. I would have it attractively illustrated in col- ors by Marcus Angelou and Mons, Bouvierf' Of course the first four or live editions would have to go to editors for reviews, and to personal friends. I would have also to spend about a thousand dollars or so to secure special reading space in the best magazines, but nevertheless I couldn' t see how I could fail to make a couple of thousand to put away for a rainy day. As I was thus figuring, the clock in the hall was just booming the hour of twelve. This was unusualg as the sole mission of this clock seemed to be to gather dust as an excuse for stopping. With the dying of the bell I distinctly heard a rustle among the papers upon my desk and a faint smoke issued from the typewrtiten sheets. My heart mounted to my throat. The thought that my masterpiece was going up in smoke overwhelmed me. With superhu- man effort I summoned all my remaining nerve force and was about to rush to the desk to save the story when I was halted by a new horror, for the vapor was taking human shape. With blanched face and protruding eyes I watched the object grow from whirling smoke into the form of a six- foot man. Clearer and clearer grew the phantom. Detail after detail became visible until the colorings of the gar- ments showed and the stalwart hero of my romance stood