Burlington High School - Rarebits Yearbook (Burlington, Ontario Canada)

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20 RAREBITS Every time he tried to begin Dr. Roberts whistled and the bear looked aroundg thus he had a great deal of fun at the bear's expense. As you know, Dr. Roberts is very distinguished ilooking and a very in- teresting speaker and I could hardly realize that two hours had flown by while I sat and listened. I know if you had been there you would have enjoyed yourself as much as I did and would have said good-bye to him with the same little inward sigh of regret. illlnthrr illlaria By PEGGY Dr-JWHURST IIIA A tall man trudged wearily along the sun-swept road which led through a tiny-cluster. of white-washed cottages. His clothes were good, but worn and stained with travel. His piercing black eyes glanced over the rows of small houses set in flowering gardens. The brilliant fruit of the orange trees made bright patches of colour among the drab, grey olive groves. Red tiled roofs contrasted pleasantly with the glittering blue of the Mediterranean. Dusky, plump urchins played in the dust and sunshine. Buxom matrons sat at their spinning-wheels, sewed or gossiped, while on the beach the tanned and sturdy fishermen occupied themselves with sails and nets. After years of wandering in distant lands since he had run away from home as a boy, Antonio Mazzini was once more in his native land. He was tired and hungry. His passion for roving had driven him away from his simple home and loving family in the north. But, after many years of roaming, he longed for a sight of familiar faces, and he had retraced his steps homeward to his native village. There, as a result of his inquiries, he learned that all his loved ones were either dead or gone to another town-none knew where. So, heart- sick and lonely, Antonio continued his wanderings, no longer from choice, but from a con- suming desire to see again familiar and friendly faces., This town he knew not, but he must have food and lodging. He had some money, for Fortune had deigned to smile upon him in his travels. Accordingly, Mazzini stepped through a gate into a tidy garden, and, addressing a corpu- lent kindly-faced woman, asked where he might receive food and lodging. Drawing her round-eyed brood closer to her voluminous skirts, the woman replied readily. At Mother Maria's, of course, signor. It is there that all travellers go in order to receive that which they need. See-it is but a stone's throw distant. With a word of thanks, Mazzini turned down the street, directing his footsteps towards the white house which had been pointed out to him. It was smaller than its neighbours- this haven for the traveller-but its garden was as well-kept and in just as riotous bloom. The stranger walked quickly up to the low green door and knocked firmly. In a moment it was opened by a wee. white-haired old woman whose cheeks were wrinkled softly by mellow old age, whose lips smiled a sweet welcome, but whose eyes were dimmed by sorrow. Antonio made known his wants, and in a gentle voice he was bidden to enter. The interior of the cottage was spotlessly clean. Stiff, green curtains were faintly re- flected upon the gleaming white-washed walls. Several hand-made rag rugs partially covered the shining beauty of the red-tiled iioor. In one corner stood a spinning Wheel, and the fire-place filled another. A large, gray cat lay purring on a square of sunlit iioor. You were well recommended to me, Mother Maria. I was told that one could find here all that one desired. I wish that it might be true in all things. Those are pleasant words, signor. My loved ones have either died or left me. I am alone. And it makes me happy to minister to those who are worn and hungry. It is my life -But you must be weary, signor. You will find water outside by the pump-and in a moment I shall have ready a meal to set before you. Feeling strangely comforted and at home, Antonio re-entered the house, refreshed and ravenous, to Iind a meal set upon a clean, Howered linen cloth. While he ate Mazzini spoke briefly of his life, and, in turn. Mother Maria spoke of her loneliness, meanwhile pressing upon him her fresh bread, fish, vegetables and fruit. The meal finished, Antonio sat down by the open window and filled his pipe. Almost it seemed that he was home once more, and there was his mother beside him.-But no. His pipe was lighted now and his chair comfortable.-and it was only Mother Maria who sat near, calm. and industriously sewing. Silence fell. The rays of the afternoon sun leng- thened and stretched themselves out of the reach of the gray cat which stirred, got slowly to her feet, yawned. and lay down on the remaining patch of sunshine. Twilight was gather- ing and peace filled the little room. Mother Maria broke the long silence by asking. What is your name, signor? You have not yet told me. Antonio Mazzini. the stranger responded. With a joyous cry the old woman stumbled to her feet, the sewing tumbling unheeded to the floor. Her eyes filled with tears and she gazed with awe upon the startled face of the man before her. My son, she cried brokenly. Then only did Antonio understand-and striding forward, he gathered his mother into his arms, and laid his head tenderly and thankfully against hers. g

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RAREBITS 19 lllf lflfxfty 1 Pm Elnteruivm with Glharlva CE. B. Iinhvrta K. COLEMAN IV Isn't it a crime after you have had a perfectly lovely time to have to sit down and painstakingly endeavour to put that lovely time on paper? That is the position I find myself in and I just don't know where to begin. I know someone will say: begin at the beginningg so I will. I recently lunched with Charles G. D. Roberts and Professor De Witt in the Blue Room at Wymlewood. There are many nice things I could say about both men but, as you see by the title of this article, it is the former I must deal with. It seems almost like telling tales out of school to dissect our con- versation but I must, so I shall. To begin with, I think that Dr. Roberts has the most charming manner. I was completely at ease and I must confess that I expected to be a little ner- vous. At the beginning I found out that he loves a grate fire and always keeps one burning even if he has to keep the windows wide open to 'get rid of the heat. I have that same love of fires so I was rendered quite at ease. Somehow the conversation turned to Latin and Dr. Roberts remarked that he believed that Latin and Greek are the fundamental requirements in education. He began Latin when he was eight and Greek when he was twelve. From Latin and Greek we drifted to ants and I found out, much to my surprise, that the lumbermen in New Brunswick often eat black ants to pre- vent scurvy. Dr. Roberts himself has never tried them but he told me they were supposed to taste like black berries. Besides writing beautiful poetry and prose Dr. Roberts has proven him- self a successful fisherman and he told me just what trout like best and the manner in which they like to receive it. He has spent some breathless min- utes on his back in shallow water while a friend fished above for his benefit. Thus he has found out just how things appear to the fish and how to make his bait look most natural. In time, our conversation came around to writing. I asked him what he thought of Conrad's Lord Jim . He thinks it is a wonderful thing but it has too much detail. He himself believes in careful selection and not in such quantity. I learned also that his animal stories are just as popular in Eng- land as they ever were but the demand is not quite as great on this continent. After that, it seemed the natural thing to talk about animals. Dr. Ro- berts believes that the bear of all animals is the most like a human being. Why, they even spank their cubs! He told a very funny story about watching a bear balance on a rock and deftly catch fish. Old Bruin could not eat the fish there, so skilfully flung them up on the bank. When the bear thought he had enough he swam the short distance to shore and prepared for his meal.

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R A R E B I T S 21 A illiihaummrr Exam Bream By A. SMITH IV . Scene:-The book-lined study of Jack Morgan on the night before the Upper School English examination. The room is lighted only by the green shaded lamp on the desk. Scattered over the desk and lying on the floor are new, unused copies of Lord Jim , David Copperfield , Henry IV , Longer Poems and Shorter Poems . As we watch, Jack nods once, twice, until finally his head sinks down on his folded arms. Slowly the room darkens until the silver rays of the moon and the fitful gleam of the dying fire are the only light. Very softly the door at the back opens and a figure clad in a white suit and sun-helmet enters and walks slowly to the edge of the desk. Jack's head rises with a jerk and he looks at the stranger in a dazed manner. Jack-frubbing his eyes and looking bewildered! Who are you? Oh, I know, you're the prince who found the Sleeping Beauty. I'd know you anywhere. Lord Jim-lindignantlyb-I am not! Don't you suppose I have anything else to do but chase around after princesses? I'm the person who killed Hotspur. Hotspur-lfrom the open doorway!-What is it I hear? Lord Jim-Why, I killed you. Don't you remember? Hotspur-Killed me? lproudlyl I was killed by a King's son not by an insignificant puppet in a white uniform. lLooks contemptuously at Lord Jim.J Lord Jim-fangrilyl-Is that so? Just let me tell you that I . . . Hotspur-timpatiently interruptingl-And once more I tell you that I was killed by a king's son. IA great commotion is heard off stage and as all turn wonderingly toward the sound, Falstaff comes in pufiing and blowing like a porpoisej Falsta 17-lwiping his face with a huge red handkerchief!-How now, how now, mad wag, did'st thou forget that I killed thee? It was at the battle of Holmedon Hill. Hotspur-4 angrily striding about the study!-Why you huge hill of fiesh, you old wool sack, you . . . Falstafi'-'Sblood you starveling, you eel-skin, you tailors yard lstops for breath, blowing his nose and trying in vain to sit down on a hassock before the fire! Unto the midst of this uproar comes Miss Betsey Trotwood, her bonnet askew. She holds up her hands in horror at the noise.j Miss Betsey-Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Don't you know how to act? Such language and such noise! Mercy on us, where's Mr. Dick! He'll show you the way to conduct yourselves. Mr. Dick, Mr. Dick! Jack-tall this time he has been looking from one person to another with a dazed ex- pressionl-Mr. Dick? I always thought that he was the guy who married Peggotty, but he isn't. Oh, I know, he was Katie Willow's cousin in The Brook . Mr. Dick-icomes in flying a kite and clutching a manuscript in his handg he is bewil- deredly shaking his head over the date of the death of King Charles IJ-I still can't figure this out how . . . Jack-Neither can we. Miss Betsey-Mr. Dick, the question I put to you is: Who killed Hotspur? M r. Dick-fconsidering and looking vacantly from one to another, then suddenly getting an inspiration?-I should say . . . Ulysses! . Jack-Oh Yeah! But . . . well, you might be right. Miss Betsey-lwith cold dignity!-Mr. Dick sets us all right. Ulysses killed Hotspur. l:During all this time she has been running repeatedly to the window and peering anxious- ly out. Snatching off her bonnet and swinging it by the strings, she rushes out of the door at right screaming: Janet! Donkeys! As she rushes off she almost collides with the shrink- ing figure of My Last Duchess who is coming timidly into the room.j Jack-fperceiving herl--Well, if it isn't Mrs. Hotspur, lturning to Hotspurb Here's your wife, Sir. Hotspur-Here comes my wife. I take my leave. lLeaves hastily at left.J Duchess-lcoldly, drawing herself up proudly?-The gentleman who so rudely withdraws from my presence is not my husband. My lord is bravely defending the bridge with Horatius. Jack-fmore bewildered than ever!-Well, if you say so . . . fHe is interrupted by Peggotty who rushes in and embraces Falstaffj Peggotty-Oh, my dear Master Davy, my own darling. How you have grown! Do you remember when you were little, how you bit Mr. Murdstone? Falstap'-Peace good pint-pot! Peace good tickle-brain. Good old Jack Falstaff never bit any Murderingstone. lshoutingl Bring me a cup of sack. Jack-Sack? Oh, you mean wine. Help yourself. Th81'6'S plenty in the wine cellar. fFalstaff, with Peggotty hanging on to his arm, waddles out followed by Mr, Dick, still fiying his kite, and Lord Jim. My Last Duchess trails sedately after them.j As we watch, Jack slides off the chair and lands with a crash on the fioor. Slowly he sits up, rubs his eyes, yawns and looks wonderingly about him. The room is completely empty except for his own much crumpled and untidy figure.j Jack-Well, I'll be dawgoned! CURTAIN.