Balfour Technical School - Beacon Yearbook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

Page 60 text:

GEO. ZIFFLE COAL WOOD PHONE 91031 Broad Dewdney REGINA, SASK. Fine Furniture for the Home RADIOS — APPLIANCES — RECORDS REG CARTER’S LAKEVIEW SERVICE STATION Corner Albert 15th Ave. PHONE 5421 “Internal Motor Cleaner” FURNITURE Garden Field Seeds Good Seed is the Basis of Sound Agriculture STEELE, BRIGGS SEED CO. REGINA, SASK. Page 50 Bn ' four Beacon ’48

Page 59 text:

“you don’t know what it’s like to be-—-— blind.” The stranger chuckled softly. “You’re wrong, my boy,” he said. “You see, I am blind.” The bottle slipped to the floor for¬ gotten and the stranger’s handclasp brought the light back to Bill’s heart if not to his eyes. —Ruth Bryden 4B MeWuf, CltA,iritmaA It’s here, it’s here, That joyful season of the year, With all the splendour that it brings — Gifts and tinsels, shiny things. Be glad, be glad, ’Tis not the season to be sad, But let exalted praises ring. Through heaven’s halls to greet the King. Now hash, now hush, ’Tis the end of the shopping rush, Starry-eyed children are waiting to hear The sleighbells and patter of Santa’s reindeer. Be jolly, be jolly, See the mistletoe, cedar, and holly, Let these pleasures being you good cheer Because once again Merry Christmas is here! ■—Dorothea Kirschbaum 3A A ae+itu.n.e ' i af a Sbiamostd I was born in a mine in Africa. Along with a number of my fellow men I was placed in a cargo that went to England. We were very carefully guarded as there were many who would have liked to have us in their possession. We were docked at Liverpool where we were taken off the ship and escorted somewhere by police. Next we were put on a train that was headed for London. On arriving in London I was separated from my friends. I was taken to a little store, called Patterson’s Jewelry Shop. For some time I lay around in the shop. One day the head jeweller came and picked me up and examined me. He said, “You are destined to be one of the most beautiful gems that has ever shown itself in this store.” With that he began carving on me. Soon I was ready to be set in a ring. The ring I was set in was a lovely eighteen carat gold one. There were two smaller diamonds on either side of me. Of course I was the centre of attraction. When I was finished I was set on a costly velvet cushion in a show case. Here I rested for a few weeks, during which time I had many ardent admirers. Bright and early one morning in May a handsome gentleman came into the shop. He asked the jeweller for the nicest diamond in the store. The salesman came right straight to me, and proudly showed me to the customer. The gentle¬ man went into ecstasies about me, and exclaimed that “Mary will love it!” The jeweller wrapped me up, and home I went with the happy young gentleman. That night he took me to see a charming young lady. He slipped me on the third finger of her left hand. I knew then, that that was where I was meant to be. I stayed on this finger alone for three months. Then a gold band was placed beside me. This is where I belong, and where I hope to remain for many years. —Margaret Garland 4B Bad Jla+tdl a( Ike fyJeAt Leaping and bounding across the parched river bed, the outlaw headed toward the hills and safety. There were green bills reaching out to him, drawing him right into their darkest interior, tearing him away from the very arms of the law! There were hazy hills beckoning their contemporaries to high plateaus ' — hills rising steadily up—hills pressing their bleak peaks toward the clouds; hills, hills, and more hills crowding the Bad Lands of the West. “Just a few more steps, Pinto,” the outlaw urged, and then the foam-flecked horse scrambled over the crumbling ledge onto the green plateau. “Oh, those blessed hills of safety,” murmured the outlaw. Turning in the saddle he grinned sardonically, then raised his stetson in a farewell gesture to the group of men clustered far below. As they looked up to the hills, the horse and rider vanished into the deep purple shadows. —Beatrice Tate 4C Belt ' IfeaA.l OuA. JUuel My carefree youth was squandered in school, Braying my lessons like any mule, Where all my “happy” days were spent Wondering what the teachers meant. “The early bird catches the worm,” they said, {Alas, rny mind’s still home in bed) “A rolling stone gathers no moss,” they claim, And that goes ditto with a wandering brain. With instinct as my answer guide, I ' ll make my way in the world outside — And you can keep your smug old cliches, While l get rich by washing dishes. —Shirlemae Grain 4B Mattie Milt What can you find as thrilling As walking in a mist. When all around The world is bound And with soft greyness kissed. I left my work brain whirling And came outside to find A world of grey That cleared away Confusion from my mind. I marveled how enchanting This world now was at hand. The streets were changed — Seemed rearranged Just like some fairy land. And high up in the heavens The moon that shone so bright Was soft and small, A fuzzy ball High in the voiceless night. And yards that were cluttered With unimportant things, Were now all clean Wrapped in the sheen Of white, which the mist brings. A nil boughs above me towered All white, so pale and still; Bathed in moonlight. It was a sight To make heart and soul thrill. —Trudy Woldrich 3A One StoAsny, HicfUt I was filled with a frightening awe—yet I stood rooted to the spot! Each gray- purple, steely flash which fell over the street clenched my heart like a paralyzing vise—and I could not go. Then came a lull; with the sweet sea-smell wafting through my open window I scorned my fear—my crouching terror and resolved to stand up against this bluster. It was only bluster I tried to convince myself. No sooner was I secure in my newly found courage than a low growling wind rose in the distance, causing the leaves of the trees before me to shudder and tremble. Uncomfortably, I anticipated the storm king’s return. Above me, sitting on his thunder-throne, he looked with startled amazement at the insignificant being who had the audacity to refuse to admit fear of his strength. Perhaps it tickled his fancy—or perhaps the laughter which rang from the heavens was only his way of warning me of what was to come. How he laughed! His destroying breath hit hard against the trees and with almost conquering strength against the unyielding boughs. His roaring ran and reverberated like the role of the drums which played for {Continued on page 76) Balfour Beacon ’J8 Page J,9

Page 61 text:

-nr ' « : • $. ■•• «? • S 1 - ' -•..; • ' i x v- ' •• ' ' • • ' ' ' • ' mBBEmSi ■ : i-yt. - - $%my imwim ■mm iMMt