Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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31 Yellow ' •There ' s no doubt al)Out it, said Captain l ob, looking around the company of young ' officers in his dugout, with a serious face. ' ' Some- thing must be done al)out young Lieutenant Smithson. lie has the makings of a. splendid soldier and officer, but he ' s afraid. Of course we are all afraid, but one of the first things we must learn iji this game is to swallow our fear, and stick to it. I tlon ' t know what to do. I ' ve tried all sorts of plans — laughed at him. sworn at him, scorned him — but it ' s no use. He smiles pitifully and promises to get over it. but at the very next scrap he goes nito a horrible funk. 1 give it up. He ' s never been the same since Pete ' got his, ' drawled a slow, rich voice from the corner. That first scrap was a dandy, and young Dave Smithson was the man in the limelight while that lasted, I ' m tell- ing you. It was only when they were digging in on a new front, when Dave and Pete were side by side, laughing as they worked, and that Boche sniper got Pete, that — Well, Dave was like a kid. He threw himself on young Pete and sobbed like a woman. They were twins, you know, and in everything together. I ' d suggest getting the youngster a couple of months ' leave. He ' ll never be anything but what he is unless he gets away from this for a spell. The worst of it is he feels it so badly, burst out an impetuous voice at the end of the table. We all try to treat him like the rest, but he sees a difference, and sneaks off by himself. It ' s a rotten shame. He ' s such a decent fellow. You ' re right. Mac. the slow voice interrui)ted again, if it were a case of just being yellow, I ' d have no sympathy, but it ' s the poor chap ' s nerves. He should have been shipped out of here the day after Pete was killed. That ' s the whole mistake. Here the speaker turned to Captain Bob, and emphasizing every word with his pipe stem, said deliberately, But I ' ll wager that in a pinch the youngster will turn into a regular game cock. He ' s still dazed, but he ' s got the goods. I hope you ' re right, Doc, Captain Bob said gloomily, but I have my doubts. For a while there was silence. Captain Bol), 0. C. of B Company, puffed viciously at his cigarette, staring at the candle on the rough table with unseeing eyes. The M. 0. in his corner, l)lew smoke rings with his old corncob pipe, and smiled complacently. Mac, with a pile of letters from his numerous girls at home, scribbled industriously on his service pad. Mike, the young Irishman who wore the purple and silver of the Military Cross on his breast, whistled tunelessly as he censored a pack of letters which had been written by his platoon for the morrow ' s mail, stopping at times with an interjection of delight as some comical sentence met his eye. The battalion was in reserve, and on the eve of departure for the front line. A heavy pall of uneasiness hung over the men, for all day an almost unceasing rumble of guns had sounded from the othei side of the hill. Ambulances in even greater numbers than usual, drove past at interv als, and long strings of slightly wounded men made their

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THE BRANKSOME SLOGAN big tiled stove in one corner, while in the centre stands a tabk on whicu, in a glass case, are the toys and play books vvitli which Beethoven used to amuse himself as a child, or, at least, the few wh ich have fortunately ])een preserved. Leaving these relics of what must hav( been a wonderful child- hood, we follow our guide into a library adjoinijig, si)acious and bright, and though not elaborately furnished, a beautiful old room, lined to tile ceiling with books, except where the window is artistically inserted. The midcbe of the room is occupied by a heavy old oak carved table and large, stately-looking chairs. Proceeding now to tlie v( ry end of the passage, we ascend a narrow ►spiral staircase, ox)en an attic door, and find ourselves in the room where Beethoven first saw the light of day. It is small, the ceiling is low, and it is lighted by a tiny window; the hed, a funny old-fashioned four- postei, stands in one corner, and is covered by a patchwork ([uilt which must once have been brightly colored, but is now faded with age. We now return to the hall, and our guide takes us into the dining- room, a fine apartment on the left of the long ground floor passage. The chief objects of interest here are the exquisite engravings of old Khineland castles. We go on to the drawing-room, whose simplicity adds to its ({uaintnes and charm. Here one could well imagine Bee- thoven, surrounded by his friends on a cold winter evening, seated at the piano which is still here, the room illumined by the soft glow of the lamp, and his hearers absorbed in the exquisite music he was making. We now finish our tour of inspection by visiting the kitchen, a large roomy place, with a tiled floor, and leading out into the garden, wdiich is bathed in bright sunlight. The garden is neither very long nor very wide, but is nevertheless extremely lovely. On either side is a high stone wall, with creepers growing over it, and below a long stretch of beautiful green lawn, with a border of brilliant-colored flowers. Through the centre of this lawn leads a narrow flagged path arched over for the first few feet by a charming trellis work overgrown with red and white roses. At the further end stands an ancient oak, beneath whose spreading branches Ave find a stone table and seat, moss-grown and worn with age and use. This was a favorite haunt of the musician during the delightful sum- mer months. Here our visit ends. We thoughtfully retrace our steps, and after bidding our friendly guide good-bye, pass out into the sunlit street, the heavy oak doors silently closing behind us. In a little while the cloak of the romantic old world drops from our shoulders, and we find our- selves once more in the atmosphere of modern times. Beethoven ' s house is no longer a concrete Reality, but has joined the realm of intangible, receding Memories. GERTRUDE E. C. SHAW, Form IV. Special. Miss R. (to Marjorie, who was giggling while reading a passage) — ' ' Marjorie, don ' t think of yourself, and you won ' t laugh.

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32 THE BRANKSOME SL()(iAN way to tli( ' (h ' essiii ' station a (|uarter of a mile behind the I ' cscrvc line. To tile ( jidless (incstions ot the men from the — th l attalion, tliey re])lied wearily that there was a big scraj) in progress. At early dawn the — th Battalion received their niareliing orders, and amid nnich rnshing to and fro, shonting of eonnnands, and good- ]iatnred chaff among the men, finally departed on their two-hours ' march to the front line. Stillness reigned in the trench. At regular intc -vals a huddled figure could be seen on the firing step, motionless, staring across No Man ' s Land. TIk occasional sput of a rifle pierced the silence for a moment, whih from a deep dugout came the soft murmur of voices. Far off: in the distance a cock crowed in derision. In the dugout Captain J ob was giving his final instructions. Now you have it all, fellows, he said, looking intently at the tense faces before him. It ' s up to us to take the heavy part of this scrap, but we ' ve never shirked our job yet, and we aren ' t going to begin on our bigg( st chance. Go slow, remember instructions, and you ' ll be all right. Now you can get the men out. As the officers filed out of the door, Captain Bob had a word for each. The last man, a slender, blonde youth with sensitive mouth and steady, grey eyes, hesitated as he went past the captain, and tried to speak. Dave, Captain Bob said, placing his hand on the boy ' s shoulder, buck up, old boy, this is your big chance. I ' m going to try, sir, ' ' the other said softly, and turning swiftly, left the dugout. Several long, fearful hours had passed. In battalion headquarters Captain Bob had despatched the last message to the rear. Weary order- lies lay on straw pallets in the corners in a stupor of sleep. B Company had been relieved, and what remained of its seven officers were gathered in the dugout, listening with rapt attention to ] Iike, who, seated on a wobbly stool at one end of the table, was relating with much gesticulation, the story of young Dave ' s heroism. He was beside me, Mike related, ardently, when we were wait- ing for zero I sneaked a look at his face, and he was pea green with fright. I offered him a cigarette and when he took it out of the box he dropped it. Then he said he wouldn ' t have one. You know how we went over, got to the German line, and then how that infernal pill- box opened on us from the left. Three times I tried to take six men over to put it out of business, and every time had to give it up. At last I crept around behind with my men, but before we got near, its guns stopped, and when we. came up we were just in time to see Dave with his corporal ordering the crew of nine to keep their hands up. He was absolutely cool, and in perfect German was instructing them to w alk with his corporal, like good little Huns, back to our lines! That fellow had crept up and, holding a bomb over the air hole on top, had threatened to blow them all, himself included, to Kingdom Come if they didn ' t surrender peaceably! They went with the corporal, and