Valparaiso High School - Valenian Yearbook (Valparaiso, IN)

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24 tIIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 1904. MY PHILOSOPHY: v I aint, ner don’t p’tend to be, Much posted on philosofy; But there is times, when all alone, I work out idees of my own. And of these same there is a few I’d like to jest refer to you — Pervidin’ that you don’t object To listen clos ’t and rickollect. I alius argy that a man Who does about the best he can Is plenty good enugh to suit This lower mundane institute — No matter ef his daily walk Is subject fer his neghbor ' s talk, And critic-minds of ev’ry whim Jest all git up and go fer him ! It’s natchurl enugh, I guess, When some gits more and some gits less, Fer them-uns on the slimmest side To claim it aint a fare divide; And I’ve knowed some to lay and wait, And git up soon, and set up late, To ketch some feller they could hate Fer goin’ at a faster gait. My doctern is to lay aside Contensions, and be satisfied: Jest do your best, and praise er blame That toilers that, counts jest the same. I’ve alius noticed great success Is mixed with troubles, more er less, And it’s the man who does the best That gits more kicks than all the rest. — James Whitcomb Riley. Chapter I: “What is your name, little boy?” asked the teacher. “Johnny Lemon,” answered the boy. And it went on record on the roll. Chapter II: “What is your name?” the high school teacher inquired. “John Dennis Lemon,” replied the boy. Which was duly enrolled. Chapter III: “Your name, sir?” said the college dig- nitary. “J. Dennison Lemon,” responded the young man who was about to enroll himself as a student. Inscribed in ac- cordance therewith. Chapter IV: “ May I ask your name?” queried the soci- ety editor of The Daily Bread. “Jean D’Ennice Le Mon,” replied the swell personage in the opera box. And it was duly jotted down. The signs is bad when folks commence A findin’ fault with Providence, And balkin’ ’cause the earth don’t shake At ev’ry prancin’ step they take. No man is great tel he can see How less than little he would be Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare He hung his sign out anywhare. “These college boys beat me,” said St. Peter, as he locked the gate for the night. “What’s the matter now?’’ queried the man who was be- ing fitted with a pair of wings. “Why, I let in a batch a while ago and they no sooner got in than they began to pitch quoits with their halos.”

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 1904. 23 the voices, worn by prolonged yelling, rasp like the filing of a saw by the time they reach for the last time the closing lines of the chorus: “She’s the pride of Indiana, Hail to old I. U.” F. A. REECE. The efforts of the editors of the Annual to improve that publication deserve the approval of all who have the interests of the school at heart. In past years but little attention has been given to this paper, which should be one means of in- dicating the growth of the school, and I am sure most of the graduates would be glad to be of some assistance in accom- plishing that purpose. In some respects a college course is not unlike a whole span of life. It has its beginning with the thrill which new life brings, its intermediary period during which many things can be accomplished, and its end in graduation. The life in a large university resembles the life in any community. The new-comer subjects himself to its customs, enters some field of work, strives for success and is given credit for what he accomplishes. But the analogy fails in this striking par- ticular, that in college the interests and aims of all are near- ly identical. At no other time in one’s life does he associate with so many people of his own age, sentiments and purposes. It is to this community of interest and condition that the strength of college friendships can be attributed. Nor is it surprising that a large body of young people so situated should be frequently overcome with enthusiasm, which many people do not approve, yet it is doubtful if more generosity toward fault and eagerness to reward merit can be found any where. The University of Michigan catalogue presents courses which it would require over one hundred years to complete at the maximum number of hours’ work. How futile must be the attempt to obtain a comprehensive education in four years is apparent. In this limited time the student merely touches the high places, but if his time is well spent he acquires the college man’s chief asset— an enlarged capacity for future work. Very sincerely, FRED CRUMPACKER. A man’s life and growth are marked by periods. From the cradle up to the time he gets too old to be interesting there are periods that stand out in his memory like green patches in a barren field. Perhaps the days when he was “a barefoot boy” “down to the old swimmin’ hole” are dearer and more fraught with cherished memories than any other, but the one bright patch that grew after he was no longer a youth is that watered with the joys of his college days. It is useless to harp on the pleasures on the athletic field, the fraternity, class competitions, college politics, etc., we see them all minimized in our high school days. It is useless to renumerate the advantages of college training in connection with the various trades one may as- sume in life or to repeat the advantages of brain discipline even in digging out the translation in the well worn old vol- ume of Anabasis, but if I could leave this one point I would think my article had fulfilled its mission; namely, a college life throws one in contact with a well bred, well mannered class of people whose aims are high, whose purpose is true, whose determination is sure. A daily contact with such people will surely influence him in their direction. I say then, should he utterly fail in his studies, take no interest whatever in athletic or social life, if he only associates with his fellows he has not wasted his time. He will begin to realize that it is good to live and be an in- dividual, that he is a bundle of possibilities to which ambition furnishes the tools with which determination unites the bundle. No man can by day dreaming make himself a Craescus, a Napoleon or a Webster, yet if the man be ambitious and such be his theme it is good for him to indulge in such a pastime. College life imparts rightful day dreams and college training imparts the means of seeing them come true, and as the bigger the cage the happier the bird so the larger circle a man may have lived in, in this little pent-up world of ours, the happier the man when he comes to die and looks back on a life lived for living sake, the memory of which is an easy pillow for his death-bed and a lasting gift to his posterity. Young man, unless the most adverse circumstances ' pre- vent you, go to college. PROF. KNOX A. BOUT.

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 1904. 25 Mark Antony’s Oration Over Caesar. [Prom “The New Shakespeare. ”] F RIENDS, Romans, Countrymen ! Lend me your ears; I will return them next Saturday. I come To bury Caesar, because the times are hard And his folks can’t afford to hire an undertaker. The evil that men do lives after them In the shape of progeny who reap the Benefit of their life insurance. So let it be with the deceased. Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious. What does Brutus know about it? It is none of his funeral. Would that it were! Here under leave of you I come to Make a speech at Caesar’s funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; He loaned me five dollars once when I was in a pinch, And signed my petition for a post office. But Brutus says he was ambitious. Brutus should wipe off his chin. Caesar hath brought many captives home to Rome, Who broke rock on the streets until their ransoms Did the general coffers fill. When that the poor hath cried, Caesar hath wept, Because it didn’t cost anything And made him solid with the masses. [Cheer 8.] Ambition should be made of sterner stuff, Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. Brutus is a liar and I can prove it. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown Which he did thrice refuse, because it did not fit him quite. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus said he was ambitious. Brutus is not only the biggest liar in the country, But he i9 a horse-thief of the deepest dye. [Applause.] If you have tears prepare to shed them now. [Laughter. ] You all do know this ulster. I remember the first time ever Caesar put it on; It was on a summer’s evening in his tent, With the thermometer registering 90° in the shade; But it was an ulster to be proud of, And cost him $3 at Marcaius Swartzraeyer’s, Corner of Broad and Ferry streets, sign of the red flag. Old Swartz wanted $40 for it, But finally came down to $3, because it was Caesar. Look! in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through; Through this the son-of-a-gun of a Brutus stabbed, And, when he plucked his cursed steel away, Good gracious ! how the blood of Caesar followed it ! [Cheers, and cries of “ Give us something on the Panama treaty Hit him again, etc. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. I am no thief as Brutus is. Brutus has a monopoly in all that business, And if he had his deserts he would be In the penitentiary, and don’t you forget it. Kind friends, sweet friends, I do not wish to stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny, And as it looks like rain, The pall-bearers will please place the coffin in the hearse, And we will proceed to bury Caesar — Not to praise him. — H. W. Criswell.