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

Page 17 text:

TO A MATERIALIST 69 What mineral, what oxide dead, can brave, Like Washington, the cannon's thunderous roar? Or what reaction is there that can raise A shepherd girl, like Ioan of Arc, to save A nation from the bloody wave of war? Or can you bring Napoleon back to life Or else produce his strategy in weight? Such formula, my friend, is hard to state! Whence comes the pride and lust of Tarquin bold, 3 The honor of Lucrece, or sordid shame ' Of Cataline, or mother's ceaseless love For daughter fair, or son? What wondrous mold Produced a Shakespeare's or a Milt0n's fame, - Both potent kings whose sceptre was their pen? Were their great minds with keener vision blessed ' Because of liner chemicals possessed? 1 Have you not heard of Boone who braved the light Of wildsg who ope'd the path for pioneers i l To seek existence in this Golden Land? an Or Father Serra, great Franciscan Light Who heeded not elusive months and years, , Who spurned the pangs of hunger, scorned the heat l V . Of day, the black of night and irksome strife Of toil in foreign land, 'ere leaving life? A If you will pardon me, I shall attempt To give a definition where you fail: Man is a being from the hand of God,- Some matter rightly formed, but not exempt From spiritual soul that doth entail A A conscious passion of eternity. . Now there is God's own 'formula for man ,- Improve it,--weigh,--produce it if you can! , THOMAS FOSTERQ A

Page 16 text:

ll N 411 Un a fllllaterialint S THIS your final word,-that men are naught But Nature's. accidents,-that we exist Because by blind and freakish chance Some chemicals in contact close are brought, Of which the mixtures known as men consist? Perchance some lucky wind blows north a base And east a salt, and then some planless plan Brings salt and base together, making man! Can rocks, those senseless things, give precious life? Can splashing streams that furrow cliff and wood, Give honor, hatred, love, deceit or truth? Can peaceful meadows offer war or strife To man when he is made, or can his good f Proceed from metals valuable or base? Or evil blossom from the flowers sweet, That cloaking fields form carpets 'neath our feet? Whence come those men whose fame shall never part,- Whose names and deeds outlived each strong rebuff Of life? Whence Caesar? Pompey? Can these men Gr their ambitions from a test-tube start? They say ambition's made of sterner stuff, And well they say, for who has ever heard Of chemical,-of acid,-metal,-stone, Into ambition, restless passion, blown?

Page 18 text:

iinutfa Glnnqurat ALPH, will you attend to this? w envelope, liberally covered with postage 'WLQQZ ,fy stamps. On closer inspection they were French, and in the corner of the envelope was the address of a well-known private detective bureau of Paris. -- T he case isn't much. The story of a kid made away with-mother looking for Johnnie, and the office hot on the trail. I '1f'iAll'I'Ight, I'll go to it. And I opened up a long docu- ment, signed and countersigned. As I was unfolding the pages a photo fell to the Hoor, I picked it up, and studied theface for some time-the face of a French boy, with sparkling eyes, small, well-shaped mouth, curly hair. Where had I seen the face before? It seemed familiar! But to the letter. I stuck the photo in a rack on my desk, and turned to the pages. The story offered no startling circumstances- hardly enough for a good, bang-up detective tale. A boy of eight torn suddenly from a mother's bosom, lost for four years, rumors of an uncle, talk of a musical career, both, uncle,-musical career, included, traced to California. I folded up the letter and stowed it away in my pocket- book, took one long look at the portrait before pocketing it, and then donning overcoat and hat, set out for the scene of combat. A small boy, a harsh uncle, a musical career, and a poor mother in France upon her death-bed. Would I do my best? I thought of my own dear mother, and of the day long ago, when I knelt beside her bed, praying God to spare that gentle soul, and weeping-oh! such hot tears of grief- and mother passing away so peacefully, so piously into the presence of her Saviour. I felt her sweet influence upon me as never before, and that mother. dying far away in Paris, , in The district manager handed me a large 5 1 I 3 9 ...Q