Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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The Branksome Slogan 21 Hoof-Beats The bridge spanning the moat was lowered with a clang! A tall, handsome youth, clad in black armour and mount- ed on a black horse, rode forth, as the blare of trumpets sounded his departure. He was in a retrospective mood, this Georges Savary, as he rode away between the smiling fields and stately woodlands. His journey led him to the castle of an uncle, in whose service he had won much favour. The morning breeze tossing the golden curls which fell from under his black helmet, also stirred the poplar leaves to merriment, and carressed the nodding daisies by the wayside. The broad lands of sunny Normandy lay peacefully sleeping under the azure skies of an early May, and upon the blue dis- tances, which always inspired in Georges a vague longing, he set his eyes and fell into a muse. While riding along through a dense forest, Georges ' attention was arrested by a man lying near the road and moan- ing as if in great pain. Thinking that the unfortunate man had been the victim of robbers, and desiring to render aid, Georges dismounted and led his horse over to where the wounded man lay

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20 The; Branksome: Si ogan Lugn Huilar Sjon (The Lake Lay Calm — from the Swedish.) O ' er the lake the sun is dying On the ear there steals a murmur, Still the waters, blue and deep, Oer the lake the sun-rays flare, And the birds no longer crying To the mountain the sound rises From the boughs their vigils keep, Through the calm, cool evening air. Effort and the vain world ' s sighing Listen! now! it is the flowers Shackled lie by strength of sleep. Offering up their evening prayer. Darkness falls, the moon-beams stream- ing, On the lake, reflect and shine, From the sky, so hope is beaming On the hearts that grieve and pine, Promised rest is brightly gleaming To such hearts, O men as thine! Translation— HELEN ANDERSON. Versification — ORA M. FORSTER. Form IV B. H. PFEIL. Life ' s Plan Deep down within the heart of man There is in every one, a plan, To seek, to gain, to find; The constant thought in every mind. What thoughts are those within the car- dinal ' s breast. That sings so merrily above yon nestT To live, to love, to fly? Is that the meaning of the bird ' s bright eye? And happy childhood, what of it? What name that we could give would fit! To play, to laugh, to cry; Dreaming dreams of bye and bye. CHARLOTTE BISHOP.

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22 Thk Branksome Slogan prostrate. At that instant, a company of horsemen rode out from a grove of trees on the far side of the road, there- by cutting off his retreat. The only avenue of escape lay in attempting to ride through the almost impassable bar- rier of trees which confronted him. Al- thouh fully aware of the futility of riding over such ground, it seemed the only alternative, other than surrender. Leaping into the saddle and spurring his horse, Georges disappeared behind the wall of trees! His failure to hear the resultant sounds of the other horses, led him to the conjecture that his pursuers had dismounted, in favour of a quicker advance on foot. Knowing the forest to be very large in extent, strengthened his presumption, as it would require a much larger number of men to patrol it than this band represented. Tyin the reins to the saddle, Georges leaped off his frightened horse, quickly climbed into the upper branches of a giant yew! Standing in the crotch of the yew, which swayed in the wind, the moaning of the dark tree-tops seemed to fill him with a sudden desolation and uneasiness, as he strained to catch the tell-tale sounds of his pursuers. He had not long to wait. Two horsemen went running past, their spurs jingling in unison with their laboured breathing. Georges paused to satisfy himself that no more were following, then cautiously descended from his lofty perch, and struck off through the forest. He re- gained the road, as he had planned, at such a point as would enable him to dis- cern the movements of his enemies with safety. Approaching within fifty paces of a soldier guarding the deserted horses, Georges picked up a couple of stones which he hurled in amongst the trees acjoss the road. The guard, recovering from his first fright, rode off accosting the still forest in a loud voice, not devoid of fear. Quickly selecting a likely mount, Georges swung into the saddle and was off like a flash down the road. Thereupon, some of the remaining horses j taking fright, bolted, and dashed off in a similar fashion. The rest of the horse- men hurried back to their comrade to learn what all the uproar was about, i When the truth was discovered, the re- maining horses were instantaneously mounted, and dashed off in pursuit, while the horseless men resorted to curses as they stamped up and down in the dust. What are we to ride back on — rabbits? roared one lusty soul. The uncomfortable guard made no re- ply; he was sitting apart from his irate companions with sullen glance and ex- tremely red cars, being obliged to listen to the rude jests which sponsored the loud guffaws directed against him. Meanwhile, travelling along the road j at a breakneck pace, Georges ran into a j detachment of the enemy, resting by the wayside after their morning manoeuvres. Astonishment greeted them as they beheld a hostile horseman riding through their i midst. Shoot, you fools! shouted the com- mander in a frenzied voice. A dozen cross-bows were unslung and a dozen arrows sped through the dust of the vanishing horse and rider. Georges Savary, bent low over the saddle, his hair streaming out behind in the wind, was soon out of range. Reigning in his exhausted horse, he turned and waved gaily; then removed an arrow imbedded in the saddle, in rather close proximity to his leg. Soon the ring of horse-hoofs met his ears, causing him to quicken his pace. The infuriated horse-soldiers arrived at their infantry detachment amid noisy and excited exclamation. Didst thou see a bold youth clad in black armour pass here on horse? they questioned. By the Bones of Saint Michael, was the rejoinder, he would be here await- ing you if our arrows had sped truel