Ashbury College - Ashburian Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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two after taking his mastership. Mr. Parker returns to King ' s College School, Windsor, Nova Scotia, whence he came to Ashbury two years ago. This year ' s Ashburian is being printed by a lithographic process instead of in the traditional (but expensive) letter- press. The order in the published prize list has been changed slightly: we hope that it is clearer. THE ROOM CAPTAINS Back Row: A.J. Stiles, M.R. Duguay, H.J. Ronalds, R.H.D. Halupka, R.G. Ramsay, H.S. Went. Front Row: P.J.S. Graham, C.H. Maclaren, J.A. Glover, Esq., Housemaster of Woollcombe House, D.R. Hallett, N.C. Macdonnell. Absent: G.W. Thomson, Esq., Housemaster of Connaught House, R.F. Elkin, M.P. Kelly, L. Rosenhek.

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inherits something from the magic girdle the ugly but worthy Hephaes- tus, god of goldsmiths, jewellers, blacksmiths, masons, and carpenters, made for Aphrodite his lawful wife. Aphrodite, of course, wore the girdle whenever she wanted to make anyone love her madly. Hence in the ninth labour King Eurystheus, acting on behalf of his wanton daughter, commands Hercules to go and bring him the magic girdle belonging to Hippolyte, Queen of the Amazons. Mark Joyce gave a thorough performance as Theseus, and Macdon- nell leapt suitably about the stage as Hercules. Hippolyte, towards the end of the play in short tennis frock, and the blacksmith Hippobom- ene, truly a Stakhonovite, were nicely played by Jacqueline Heard and Janet Urie. Servants and others were restrained and reliable, though difficult to hear at the back of the hall. The commentators Zeus and Hera did not reach the standard of the rest of the cast. We are grateful to the headmistress of Elmwood for the enjoyable evening. Cadets are a tricky problem — here as elsewhere — and many would like to do away with them. Drills can b e a bore, though useful training, and do not easily fit today ' s emphasis on the person as an individual. If the regular army could lend more interesting equipment and an in- structor or two give more time to the Ashbury unit, training might be more inspiring. It does not help when we see so many famous regi- ments disbanded. The present issue of rifles looks much like those seen in the older, sepia photographs about the school, remarked one cadet lieutenant. Just so, but how new should the weaponry be? It is a little disconcerting when the deputy chief scientific officer of the Royal Aircraft Establish- ment at Farnborough (Desmond King-Hele, FRS) writes that half a kilogram of botulinum toxin (type A), if suitably distributed, would suffice to snuff out everybody in 20 minutes. One more point to Shaw ' s quip: ' It was reading that made Don Quixote a gentleman, it was believing what he read that made him mad.! ' The school was inspected by the Ontario Department of Education in February, and the headmaster was able to congratulate boys and staff on the report the inspectors made to him. The housemaster of Connaught continues as often as not to be music critic of the Ottawa Journal. Michael Aden ' s son, Michael J. Arlen, who spent some of the war years at Ashbury, began some reminis- cences in The New Yorker of 1 1 April. Nicolas A. Pilavachi, who edited last year ' s successful Harvard lampoon on Time magazine, also spent some time at Ashbury. Staff leaving this year in the Senior School are Mr. Egan, Mr. Somerville, Mr. Parker, Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Wood, Mr. Fordyce, Mr. Petty, and Mr. White. Mr. Egan may return to Ashbury in a year or

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JULES The sun was shining brightly — it was a beautiful summer day. Jules was running happily across the clean-cut grass of his summer cottage. He was playing with his shiny new ball; he had just received it for his seventh birthday. For some reason Jules placed a strange significance on this one ball; he had played with it all afternoon. From the large kitchen window of their quaint cottage Mrs. Harris could see her son playing. While she washed the dishes, she dreamed of her youth, a habit women have. Her thoughts wandered till she came to the birth of Jules. She thought of how much she loved him and how she spent all her time with him. Mrs. Harris was startled back to the present as she heard her husband ' s car noisily coming up the gravel roadway. Jules stopped running with his ball and looked towards the car. His father had parked the car and was getting out. Mr. Harris slammed the car door behind him and strutted vigorously up to the screen door of the cottage, entering quickly. Jules heard the crash of a dish and the raised voices of his parents. They were arguing again. Jules shrugged his shoulders and began playing with his ball. He ran by his sandbox filled with small shovels and pails, turned quickly and with one motion threw his ball at the sandbox. It hit a shovel and bounced off into the grass beside the box. Jules smiled and sat down. He lay in the grass looking up at the sun . . . his friend. I don ' t care if it is Jules ' birthday! I ' m not going to take that damned kid out to some fancy restaurant where he can eat all my money away! These were the cutting words of Jim Harris in reply to Mary, his wife. She had just suggested that they take Jules to the ' Diamond Restaurant ' in the small town of Kirby. Her husband, however, flatly refused. Mary began crying and Jim left the kitchen fuming and cursing. It ' s all Jules ' fault, he mumbled, that kid is ruining my marriage and that I won ' t let happen . Jules ate his dinner under the setting sun. It was a peanut butter sandwich. He had had a nice birthday, he thought, ' Not great, but nice . He could hear the crickets calling and he saw the first stars coming out. He turned around and walked along the gravel path toward the beckoning lights of the cottage. That evening, Jules thought hard about his parents — he was worried. Jules, now seventeen, lay on his bed staring blankly at the white stucco of his ceiling. The door to Jules ' room suddenly burst open. Standing in the doorway was his father, red-faced.