St Johns College - Ozanam Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

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The Little Flower' By GERALD M. SULLIVAN Beside the brighter flowers that line the path, Retiring from more obvious display, Uprearing there her head, of beauty fair, A modest bloom adorns the Little Way. Half-hidden by the all-enveloping weeds, She lends a world of fragrance to the May, A fragrance born of love for Him Who died- A love she gives Him in her Little Way. Her fame has spread afar across the world, And tho' the Flower herself has long been clay A million souls are following the light Her love has placed upon the Little Way.

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16 THE OZANAM ican Museum of Natural History val- ues this tooth so highly as a clue to the missing link that it sends out an expedition to find another like it. That's downright devotedness to a cause, even if it is a hopeless cause. Not so long ago a new link was dis- covered in South Africa. Embedded in rock in a cavern were found the remains of the figure, said to be not ofean ape-man but of a man-ape. Rev. R. J. McWilliams, S. J., commenting on it in America, finds Dr. Hrdlicka believing it probable that the remains date from Tertiary times. Only a probability exists. The Jesuit con- cludes that unless he is of Tertiary times he is no ancestor of man, in the evolutionary sense. And since it is not certain that he lived in Tertiary times, it is not certain that he is the forerunner of man. After a time the investigators will become convinced that the skull is only that of an ani- mal after all. The world will enjoy the little joke and the scientists will dig up another-skull or joke, which- ever way you take it. In the Commonweal of May 13, Rev. William L. Hornsby points out the case of prominent men of science changing their ideas on Evolution. He is surprised to find Louis T. More publishing a volume entitled the Dog- ma of Evolution and he inquires, Is evolution losing even its dubious status as a scientific hypothesis, and sinking to the level of a mere dogma, a teaching accepted only on author- ity? In the book under discussion Professor More points out inconsis- tencies in the terms and methods of reasoning employed by such men as Huxley, Professor Conklin, and oth- ers. He shows how some of them to hold the theory of Evolution are il- logical and untruthful. The theory gives them plenty of difficulties to contend with. In the same article a Chicago Uni- versity professor is quoted as saying that the question of the transforma- tion of species is no longer important to biologists. Going through a long list of English, French, German, and American scientists, Father Hornsby gives the attitude of these men toward Evolution and their reasons for as- suming an adverse position. In his opinion the theory of the transforma- tion of species will gradually be aban- doned as certain facts, irreconcilable with the theory, are established as they are being established right along. If not only the great mass of people but the men of science as well are turning away from Evolutionary the- ories, their end is assured. People who took to these theories as a fad are no longer interested now that the novelty has worn off. The arguments advanced in support of the hypotheses have proved suicidal. The missing links, as one critic remarked, have met one of two fates: they con- tinued to be missing or they ceased to be links. The evidence was lament- ably lackingg scientists disagreed on what little there was. Men began to see how utterly insupportable their theories really were. The Evolution- ary hypothesis has had its day.

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Man and Man By A. FRANCIS METTY I. Ross Anderson had the mark of Cain upon his weather-beaten face. His furtive glance, his absurd caution, his vague unrest proclaimed him a fugitive. There were lines on his forehead and around his mouth that were too plainly premature. His rugged cheek had been chilled by the fierce gusts of wintry Hudson Bay, and warmed by the summer sun of Alaskag he had traversed the bot- toms of Canada, her mountains, and her plateaus, and his keen but uncar- ing eyes had greeted the broad St. Lawrence. Never long in a place- for he was being tracked, tracked by some persistent pursuer that hung grimly on and gave him no rest. He had heard how vultures circle high in the sky over their dying prey, waiting, ready to swoop down, yet waiting- like an unearthly contest of endur- ance. The fact that he had always kept two hops ahead of his pursuer was a point in his favor and of some moment, it had added seven long drawn out years to his worthless life. Perhaps he thought that some twist of fate, some merciful impulse of passing time would cheat the law, although this paltry hope belied itself even while it beckoned. He knew it. He knew that the man never lived who played tag with the Royal Mounted with his life as stakes and won. Like his ancient prototype, Ross Anderson was guilty of his brother's blood. It had happened back in '98 when the Klondike first opened up and that nondescript horde swept in. The wild character of the place and its distance from civilization seemed to awaken the dormant primeval traits. So, to settle some trivial argument that arose over the pay-dirt, Ross Anderson had prompt recourse to his pistol. Both of them were drunk, which added sordidness to the crime. But that was the crude fashion of those early days, and more than one brawl went down on the records as re- sulting in murder. It was a day when one's judge, jury, and courtroom fit- ted inside a holster. But what chance has a lone rabbit against a pack of foxes? True the unequal chase had had its brief inter- missions, which had been tersely noted each time with a notch on Ross Anderson's pistol-grip. It meant a respite, a let-up when the chase be- came too hot. Yet he could never en- tirely evade them-they caught the scent, for they were smart foxes, these Royal Mountiesf' And besides, these respites complicated the ultimate ac- counting for Ross Anderson, and sim- pliiied it for the Royal Mounted. But Ross now pointed his compass toward Chicoutimi, playing into the devil's hand. He was tired of the chase, tired of the everlasting grind. He had cracked under the gruelling strain. No more did he feel the surge of strength as he evaded the ones who tracked him. His courage had died away with his strength. Perhaps the drawn cheek and its unnatural daub of redg or the incessant cough that racked him, and its bloody chunks, had something to do with it. At any rate the frost-bitten lung had taken its heavy toll. To go within the grasp