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

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22 RAREBITS Uhr Minh 1HilnI By A. MITCHELL IV The white-winged ship swept proudly around the headland, slackened sail and stopped. The harbour was like a funnel, the wide end facing the sea, but directly across its mouth stretched a grim line of rocks, their cruel fangs concealed just under the surface. Among them a dark blue strip wound ribbon- like through the white seething turmoil. This was the only passage for the entrance of ships. Now the ship floated motionless upon the sea with busy sailors swarming in her rigging. Gracefully she towered up above her blue re- flection like a white swan ruffling her feathers just after she has settled into the water and is still peering curiously at her image below. The pilot flag shot up to her mast. In answer, the old pilot hurried down to his boat, which his two assistants were launching. Then, for the first time, he took a look at the ship. Instantly his shrunken old figure straightened and his faded blue eyes flashed fire. The Faery Queen, he muttered. That will be my brother, eh! Forty years! Forty years! It's my turn now. The morning sun glinted on the furled sails and black topsides of the great ship as the pilot boat skimmed out to her like a giant water spider on some stagnant pool. The Captain waited at the top of the companion ladder, his blue-gray, steely eyes shining out above his bushy black beard just beginning to be ruffled by the fresh breeze that was rising. Ahoy, Pilot, cried the Captain. Ahoy, Captain, returned the pilot. The two oarsmen skilfully brought the pilot boat to the foot of the companion ladder: the pilot climbed agilely upg the rowboat pulled away. Without a glance at the Cap- tain who stood beside him, the pilot took his place at the wheel. The sails iiuttered, filled, and billowed out in the fast freshening breeze. The boat sliced through the water with increasing speed, like a sea-gull taking wing. The pilot gripped the wheel, a fanatical light of hatred in his eyes. My God, man, where are you going? suddenly shouted the Captain. I'm going to smash you. your ship and all that's in her on the rocks, hissed the pilot, for one moment letting his glance, passionate with hatred, rest on the Captain's agonized face. For an instant he lost his grip on the wheel and the ship struggled like a bull being led to the slaughter. Are you utterly mad, Pilot?', cried the Captain. Not utterly-no thanks to youf' His voice rose to a shriek. You are my brother, John Linguard. But you stole my girl. Forty years! And it still sears like a burning brand! Now I'm going to wreck your fine ship. Ha! Ha! and he laughed iiendishly. Man, man, bring the ship about, implored the Captain. 'Tm not John Linguard. He died in Singapore. I took charge there. Heaven help me. What have I done? groaned the pilot, horror-stricken. Then he turned to his wheel. The ship came about slowly, slowly, graz- ing a rock, missing one by inchesg but she gained headway and won clear of the treach- erous fangs. The pilot straightened himself as if a mighty load had slipped from his shoulders as the ship darted through the pas- sage like a proud eagle which had just won its mate. Beminizring PEGGY DEWHURST, IIIA I sit and think in a deep armchair In front of a roaring fire, And watch the smoke curling through your hair, fYour pipe is a part of you.J I think of those I have loved one time- Those loves that are now long dead, Of friends I knew in that youth sub- lime- That youth that is far away, Of days I lived with the knowledge rife Of life being mine to take, Of dreams I dreamed in the dawn of life- Their fabric has gone with the youth. I sit and think in my deep armchair In front of the roaring fire, I've known the care and the wear and tear Of life in the worst of forms, But I know content when I look be- hind The curtain of years gone by- I've found the best that there is to find In life and the love of man.

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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.

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RAREBITS 23 Starz - By PAULINE TAI-ICOCK IIIB We all know something about stars, but most of us know very little. We know, at least, that they are bright, beautiful celestial bodies, which are invisible to us in the day time because they are obscured by the sun and are seen only at night. All of us know the Great Bear or Dipper and could find the North star, but very few could name half a dozen other constellations. The stars appear to move as the earth rotates and some of them that are near the horizon rise and set. The sky thus assumes a different aspect at different hours of the night and does not look the same in the early morning as it did the night before. Some people who have to go to work before dawn see the stars quite often but probably nobody here ever has that experience. Nor do we see the changing colours of sunrise, which we sometimes read about in poetry, but so seldom pay any attention to in real life. One reason for this failure is that if we do get up early enough it is usually because we have to complete our un- finished homework, but the most important reason is that we almost all agree with Sir Harry Lauder's song that: It's nice to get up in the morning, But it's nicer to stay in bed. Scientists who study the stars are called astronomists. They have found out a great many wonderful things and speak of distances that no .ordinary person can imagine. They use figures that make some people dizzy and give others a sinking feeling. This is all rather dis- couraging to those who do not like mathematicsg so it is probably time to change the subject. This we can easily do by talking about other kinds of stars with which you are all more familiar. Some of us keep pictures of 'them which we put up on our dressing tables. In fact, some people are quite absurd about them. These are not the stars which we see in the sky, however, and whether they will all eventually go there is not known. Some people think not. I refer to such personages as Constance Bennett, Greta Garbo and Will Rogers. They are supposed to resemble the stars of the heaven in certain particulars, and no doubt some of them do. For instance, some are beautiful and possibly bright, but sometimes the imagination must be stretched to concede the latter. Then again, the figures used when speaking of these stars almost make one dizzy. Fifteen thousand dollars a week! This sum is quite dazzling and inspires in many girls a secret ambition to shine in Hollywood. Other brilliant stars who attract the admiration of the boys are Charlie Conacher, Howie Morenz and King Clancy. These also show quite staggering figures financially speaking and many boys cherish a hope of becoming this kind of star. There are many other stars of less prominence but of great importance that one might mention. There is the kind used in books. You will find they are used in almost every exer- cise of your Algebra. They mean, Look out, and mark the place where the nasty sums begin, those that you will probably get wrong the first time. The answers will be in the back of the book to prove that you really knew much less than you thought. In other books this kind of star is used to refer to a footnote. This indicates that the matter therein is not of much importance, but look out for it on your next examination. Finally, I would like to mention the stars we occasionally see in the day-time. These are sometimes of great brilliance but the circumstances are such that one usually has little in- clination to stop and admire them. The most favourable occasions for seeing these are during a strenuous game of basketball or football, while falling on the back of one's head on ice or on the floor of the gymnasium. Of all these various kinds of stars, however, those that probably deserve the most study and will repay your efforts in interest and happiness, are those that are found overhead. flbhh Zilauatzs By NINA EDWARDS IV In the life of every man there are always some things which he likes intensely and some other things which he absolutely loathes. Probably he could not say exactly why he takes the attitude he does to these things but the fact remains that he does and it cannot be explained away. In short, what is one man's meat is another man's poison. For instance, take the matter of food. I don't know why but the very mention of eggs makes me shudder while I feel the same way about milk. Pie I never eat because it is sickeningly sweet while lettuce seems to have no taste at all and gives me the feeling that I am eating rubber. Of course there are some things which I do like very much. Oranges are in this class and so are potatoes. For chocolate, plain chocolate, I have a kindred feeling, and strange to say, I like soda biscuits immensely when they have about half-an-inch of but- ter on them. While talking about eating I might mention the fact that I never like to eat a mixture of things. For instance, I like peanuts and chocolate separately but I do not like choco- late with peanuts in it. While this will probably raise a violent storm of protest from those well meaning people who affirm stanchly that eggs and milk and also lettuce are good for one, it will just as probably raise as violent a storm of approval from those other people upon whom, as in my case, eggs and milk and let- tuce had been infiicted in large quantities in the days of their lives when they were too young and yielding to resist. In support of and in sympathy with the latter has this ar- ticle been written and I hope they will take some comfort out of it.