University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

Page 22 text:

4 THE REDWOOD Where tawny bolo-wielders in the yellow hemp-fields hide To smite their Avhite -skinned masters and avenge the native pride; Where monkeys do the baseball stunt among the cocoa-trees, Or vault along the bamboo poles that fence the China Seas; — Full famous is the name of Smith— a name to millions dear; — But a Santa Clara day is worth a Filipino year; And a Santa Clara welcome, in its plain old-fashioned way, Beats all the public greeting shows around Manila Bay. There ' s Smith, whose head Powhattan spared when Pocahontas prayed, And Smith who, by his silent tongue, a Wall-street billion made. And Smith, the grizzled Harvard boy whose fame lives in a hymn, — But the Smith who towers above them all is Santa Clara ' s Jim. Long may he live and, like Columbia, still his fame expand, — And still for him may Honor twine fresh laurels in our land, — Forever shall our College sing the glories he has won. And tell the applauding world with pride, Behold, he is my son. Chas. D. South, Litt. D., ' 09.

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THE REDWOOD OUR JIM (POKM READ AT THB RECEPTION TO GOV. jIM SMITH) WAVE, banners of the red and white, and split the air, ye bands; Yell, rooters with the leather lungs, and midgets, clap your hands; A roar of College welcome, with its vigor and its vim, A Governor ' s salute shall be for Santa Clara ' s Jim . The handles to his name — the General, Governor and Judge,— We strike them off— for titles by the way, are chiefly fudge. Today the white and crimson flags for SMITH the breezes fan — For SMITH, old Santa Clara ' s Smith,— for Smith, the College man. From out the tropic Orient, across the world of waves. To where Cabrillo ' s turquoise sea our golden portal laves, Smith is a name to conjure by,— while far-away Luzon Is like a house without its head the while Our Jim is gone. Then hail to Smith, whose valiant sword led in his country ' s cause- To Smith, who conquered islands by the wisdom of his laws; To Smith, w ho rose by worth alone to higher state than kings And earned the grateful, glad acclaim throughout the land that rings. From Negros, where in Bacalot the dark amigos are. To Samar, where that other Smith let slip the dogs of war; From sea-washed Iloilo ' neath the forests of Panay, Through Zamboango harbor down to Sarangani Bay;— From Sulu Archipelago to where the mad typhoon The rocky shores of Balantang with spoil and death have strewn; — In all the isles volcanic where the people put on airs Because their earthquakes obviate the use of rocking-chairs;—

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THE REDWOOD TfiE YOFxilSHIFvS: HANDICAP FRED MARTIN was a little boy at the time, — barely thirteen years old; still he never forgot the in- cident with which this story opens. His father who had been a groom in the stables of Lord Everleigh had died some three months before and now Fred and his mother lived alone in the little cottage on the outskirts of the Everleigh estate. Since her husband ' s death Mrs. Martin had taken up washing as a means of livelihood for herself and sou. The proceeds of this, however, were barely sufficient for food, so consequent- ly not a cent of rent had been paid since the death of Mr. Martin. Thus matters stood at the opening of this story, — a beautiful day in spring. Now it happened that on this same beautiful spring morning, Lord Everleigh and his Lady were driving over the estate. It also happened that Lord Everleigh was in a bad humor on account of the poor showing of two of his horses the daj ' before. McLaren, the trainer and overseer of the stables who was also in the carriage, had just related the doings of his horses in detail, and the Lord now sat s ilent and frown- ing as he turned the whole story over in his mind. Presently he spoke. What the devil was the matter with Lady Jane to come fourth after all that training? Bad start, — almost left at the post. answered the trainer. Even so, snapped the Lord Ever- leigh, you ' d think she ' d show the class on the stretch anyway. She was running with a bunch of good ones sir, you must remember, explained McLaren. Good ones! Gad, man, wasn ' t Lady Jane a good one? Wasn ' t she the favorite? Six furlongs too; just her race. McLaren shrugged his shoulders and the argument dropped. Presently they came alongside the home where the Martins were living. Who the devil lives there now? Lord Everleigh asked of McLaren. Why, the widow of Jim Martin, the groom who died some three months back. She and her young boy l ive there. I wondered, because I see the rent is due here for some months back. Stop the carriage and tell her, she ' ll have to pay to date or leave. Give her a week ' s notice. I don ' t want any of this charity business on my lauds. Accordingly the carriage was stopped and McLaren approached the house. Fred, who was weeding a vegetable patch in the front garden, immediately rushed into the house and returned with his mother. When she heard the news she burst into tears and begged to remain a little while longer. Please, Mr. McLaren, she cried. Fm sure FIl do better with my work now, and Fll pay some of it off. Just a month longer.