St Stephens Academy - Academician Yearbook (Port Huron, MI)

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young girl, after hearing his well told tale of woe, invited him inside while ' he prepared the food. Bewildered and pleased at this unexpected courtesy he crossed the threshhold and as he did so he noticed a young man in the uniform of the United States army in earnest conversation with an older man whose large expressionless eyes singled him out as blind ' . At the stranger’s entrance the young man looked up and the older on ' ' raised inquiring eyes. “Only a stranger daddy, who is weary and hungry and desires our hospitality,” said the girl. During the meal Bill learned that the young soldier was the girl’s ! rother, the blind man her father. The boy was on his last furlough as he was to leave in a week for Europe along with other brave boys who heard their country’s call and answered though it cost them and their families many hardships to do so ; and the Claytons, for such was this truly patriotic family’s name symbolized the true American spirit. Having finished his meal Bill thanked his charming hostess and departed spending the succeeding days much as the preceding, but for a new thrill, a desire to do something worth while which coursed his veins every time he thought of that autumn evening, and so the example of the brave family was not as seed thrown on a stony ground though it did not ripen till early in Feb- ruary. It was while reading the Chicago papers at which place he was now located that Bill chanced to see Capt. Jack Clayton’s name on the nation’s honor roll as “killed in action” followed by a glowing account of the dead captain’s bravery. Then a sense of duty and gratitude not only to his country but also to the family of the captain, awakened him to action and he enlisted as a private in the infantry. The following days were ones of hard training and Bill unaccustomed to discipline and work, was one night on the point of deserting when he overheard the following conversation : “Fortes fortuna juvat,” exclaimed Lieut. Hogan to a young private just finished a recital of daring bravery on the part of a comrade already over- seas. The private laughed, and turned to the lieutenant with the question, “What’s that lingo you’re talking?” “That’s not lingo, it’s Latin.” “Say it again; oh I’ve got you old timer; ‘Forty fortunes you’ve got. May I ask where you got them all?” “Nothing of the kind,” said the lieutenant. “In Latin that means ‘For- tune Favors the Brave’.”

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Fortune Favors the BraVe “Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower Comes a pause in the tramps occupation Which is known as the supper hour. ,, Where and how to procure this sadly needed meal was the discomforting state in which Bill Farrel found himself one warm autumn day in 1917. This weary willie of the road had since early boyhood followed the trail leading to temptation and vice, “the railroad tracks,” sleeping and riding in box cars at night and begging his meals during the day. Bill Farrel was not an old man though his shabby clothes and unshaven face made him appear one. On the contrary he was comparatively young, having just attained the age of twenty-four. Of his early boyhood he knew little other than that he had been bon in a small town in northern Michigan, and at the age of twelve been left ar orphan. Two weeks after his mother ' s death he had been taken in by Mrs Carvel, the town ' s aristocrat, who was attracted by the lad’s beauty; but after two months as society ' s “darling little boy” and “mamma ' s pretty baby” the memory of his own sweet mother overwhelmed him and he re- solved to run away. The eleven years succeeding his departure from his native town were years of untold adventure for the boy, and though he travelled far and wide his life was generally good but for the one blot on his character, “aversion to work.” On this particular day which he happened to be spending in a small suburb of Buffalo, Bill decided he was hungrier than he had ever before been, caused by the fact that he had been turned away from the homes of three village citizens without even a morsel of bread. However, the fourth attempt he made at a small gabled cottage proved more successful for a

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Bill Farrel pondered over these words and doubted their truth, for said he, “Was not Jack Clayton brave? and fortune didn’t seem to favor him ; I might as well skip out.” However on second thought he decided to remain and give the Latin idiom a tryout for he was determined to be brave ; and so it was that when he reached France and the trenches, and every time he went over the top his nearest comrades heard him muttering be- tween prayers the expression “Fortune favors the brave.” That he was now a brave and fearless man was evidenced by the fact that he had been promoted to the first lieutnancv and had also been nicknamed “Fearless Bill” by his admiring fellow men. In his last battle which was long and desperate, he came out with a severe flesh wound necessitating long weeks in a Paris hospital. On November eleventh the day hostilities ceased Bill hobbled along on crutches to lend his cheer to thousands and on Novmber fourteenth he re- ceived the highest honor the French nation pays men whose valiant deeds demand official recognition, “the Croix de Guerre” accompanied by the cita- tion, part of which read : “To Lieut. Wm. Farrel, Co. A, 229th Infantry, American E. F. “In recognition of daring bravery exhibited by you, when on perceiving our terror stricken troops without a leader begin retreat ; secured permission and lead them to a glorious victory though already suffering from wounds.” “I do not deserve it, to her it belongs,” he said, and so taking the medal and citation he enclosed them in an envelope with this brief note: “Miss Joan Clayton, Orchard Park, N. Y. Miss Clayton : Your hospitality and unselfish spirit was the inspiration, your brother’s death and Lieut. Hogan’s words the awakening. Prob- ably you will not remember me but I am the tramp you befriended on your brother’s last day home. Please accept this as a token of respect and thanks as I feel it belongs only to you. Will sail next week. Sincerely, WM. FARREL, Co. A, 229th Infantry. A few years after when Lieut. Hogan visited Fearless Bill’s home where Joan Clayton Farrel presided as hostess, he muttered to himself: “Fortes fortuna juvat.” FRANCES WALTON, S. S. A. ’20.