Oakwood Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (Toronto Ontario, Canada)

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THE OAKWOOD ORACLE Q iiaeru of Qliherphap life A tiny town lay nestled in the hollow of the great hills like a vil- lage one reads of, but seldom sees. The snow lay in great drifts against the darkened houses. On all sides were the great reaches of snow, glistening in the glorious light of the new moon. The great trees stood with their branches touching the ground with their spotless burdens. In the town all was quiet except at the inn where the ruddy glow of the fire shone through the windows upon the snow, for the people of Nizhniz retire early. Suddenly from across the hills came the tinkle of distant sleigh-bells. The sleigh drew nearer. As it reached the inn Nichole, the proprieter came to the door, but on seeing the arms of Peter Novgorod em- blazoned on the sleigh-door he turned into the inn again and kick- ed the dogs and cats from in front of the fire. He then called his son Ivan to meet the guest at the door while he changed his smock. Ivan arrived at the door just as the most beautiful person he had ever seen stepped from the sleigh. She was dressed from head to foot in costly sables and her eyes look- ed Iike the blue of the sky at noon- day. As she walked toward the fire she took off her fur toque and the glow of the fire brought out the glorious gold of her hair. As the time-worn clock on the door of the barn struck the hour of midnight, all the inn lights were put out. Ivan sat alone before the fire when he was awakened from his reverie by the clattering of feet upon the inn-yard. The door burst open and in came a band of the revolutionary army. Vodka, vodka they cried throwing them- selves upon the setees around the room. Ivan jumped quickly at their bidding. Little thinking of their mission he conversed with them and found that they were seeking for Moritza, daughter of Peter Novgorod. She had taken refuge in flight from the stricken capitol of Russia. Down with the aristocratslu re- sounded through the room as the men became more intoxicated with vodka. Suddenly the door burst open and one of the men rushed in from the yard shouting I have seen her, I have seen her. Soon everything was in an uproar and the man explained that he had seen Maritza at one of the windows in the upper story. Even though he was a peasant and she was the des- pised aristocrat, Ivan thought only of her helplessness. He rushed up the narrow stairs to the door of her room which opened off an equally narrow land- ing. The peasants followed him fir- ing, wildly. One of the bullets lodg- ed in Ivan's side but he cared little for the pain. He entered the room and barred the door, shoving a heavy chest of drawers against it. He turned then and told Maritza that there was only one hope of es- cape and that was through the win- dow. He glanced into the court- yard and found that there were about six men acting guards there. Between them was a keg of vodka. Turning to Maritza he said, You watch the window and when they are ouite drunk tell me. Until then I will try to hold back this angry mob. Standing upon a chair he pres- sed his pistol to an opening. high up on the door. Soon confusion reigned on the narrow passage- way. Quick, cried Maritza. they are going into the stable. Picking up her cloak she threw it around her shoulders. Ivan jumped from the narrow ledge to the stable be- neath and then caught Maritza. Neither were hurt as they iurnped to the ground upon the soft snow. Page Forty-Scrrfn

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TH H OAKWOOD ORACLE The Market Blame The market-place of Beirut was crowded. A seething tumultous mass filled it from end to end. Men, there were men of all nations, castes and religions. Hin- du traders, Persian merchants, ln- dian fakirs, men from Ispahan, Bagdad, the plains of Trans-Cau- casia and Bokhara thronged the square. There were men with brown faces, men with nearly white, aquiline features. and men with dark. swarthy coniplexions. A Hindu at a richly ornamented stall held up a necklace of spark- ling, red rubies, calling on the populace to behold and buy. A few stepped forward, followed by a wild pathan from the Himalayas. One thousand rupees, shrilled the son of Judah, eager to be first, and fixing his glistening eyes on the string of jewels. By the beard of the Prophet! exclaimed the Pathan, his evil fea- tures bearing a look of contempt, a paltry offer for such a prize, two thousand rupees will I say. The auction proceeded. the price went higher. The Jew's brow be- came wet with the sweat of an- xiety, his rival's face, however was cool and composed, in the extreme. Ten thousand rupees, sudden- ly piped the Jew, as he wiped the moisture from his forehead. What sayest thou? said the Pathan, leering in his antagonistls face, so that he drew back. Then his face became distorted with an- ger. and the thunder-god sat on his brow, O Jew, thou dost jest! Such a sum is to be found only in the minds of idle dreamers. Then, there was a glint of steel. an evil laugh and a body rolled in the dust. Thou wilt receive the offer of five hundred rupees, by Allah! said the slayer, with a sardonic sneer, holding his blade to the Hindu's throat. Obtaining an unwilling assent, he snatched up the stones. threw down his money, and hastily de- parted into the waving sea of hum- anity in the square. Another transaction had taken place in the market of Beirut, and the crowd moved on as before,- unseeing,-unknowing. Fred Bell 1 B. 3519 the jfire The wind blew loud with an eerie moan Through key-holes and chinks with a deeping tone. l sat by the fire and saw in its gleam The light that floats in the land of dream. I dreamed of gold, and castles in Spain, Of plaudits and honour and glory and fame, Ot' fields, and of streams, of mansions, and cots, Of gardens filled with forget-me-notsg Oi' hundreds and thousands of fanciful things: As I sat by the fire my thoughts had wings. bk Pl' Then I woke, and the fire was grey and cold, And gone were my visions of castles and goldg Yet a melody lingered with comforting sound, Vhough the wind still wailed in the world around. Ijflfjl' l U'l'fjl-Sl..I' l'IlJlTH Kink, n., C.

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THE OAKWOOD ORACLE Running to the barn, Ivan let all the horses loose, and chased them out into the night. He then seized his own horse and helped Maritza to a place in front of him. All night they rode. leaving the furious mob behind them. But as dawn was creeping over the far distant hills, a fierce blizzard came up, and completely blotted out everything. Ivan had to leave the route they were taking to the horse's sense of direction. By nightfall, they had reached the Volga river. Here Maritza was taken aboard a ship which was sailing to a far country. Ivan had been severely wounded, much worse than he had thought. at the time, and for weeks he lay at the point of death. After he became well he was tried and banished from the country for helping an aristocrat and so Ivan and Maritza both lived and worked apart from each other in distant lands. Five years have now elapsed and it is again winter in the village of Nizhniz. There is a new home at the end of the highway and pass- ers-by smile when they look in the window as they wend their way homeward for there sit Ivan and Maritza. This time Maritza is dressed in the simple peasant dress instead of the costly sables. ,filling Stations Modern civilization Demands that we must pass A first class Filling Station H Whenever we want gas. When due the midday ration The flapper wants her lunch She seeks a Filling Station Where she may sit and munch. In search of education Youth gives a joyful cry NJ He spies a Filling Station , Well known as O. C. I. A. M. B. Zllihe Sentry The sunset fills the sky with glorious flame And lights the hills and vales for miles around Whose beauty even shells could never maim, It silhouettes one little darkened mound. llut on that hill against the heaped-up clouds There stands a man, outlined above the mass Alert, unflinching though he die His very figure says They shall not pass. Hestands like Ilritain firm but sorrowing, War-weary and still waiting for the end: His dogged strength that which the poets sing, Though he break, yet will he never bend. Puyr Furl jj-Efyllf E. J. KIRK, 2C.