Cathedral High School - Orbit Yearbook (Hamilton, Ontario Canada)

Page 107 text:

OGOICAUOI1 T , . - 71,313 P J .ei ' 'X-S 'i xX' F NA ,,, , qgg. , -T1 4 C' Q' 1 . f Y . o the founoens 4 Ano A Fellow 1 M3 CAIHOUCS hi 'fx , ji L ck: 25+ 'QNIQ' nesponsnsle , . ff: A M, ,hs ,ILA .: -gwe Q Fon the openlno of oun newest CAUTQUC' IHSIIIIUIG Bishop nvan hloh school 1-1 'T

Page 106 text:

STudenT Divide your attentions equally between books and men. The strength of the student of books is to sit still--two or three hours at a stretch eating the heart out of a subject with pencil and notebook in hand, determin- in to mastre the details and intricacies, focusing all your energies on its difficulties. Get accustomed to test all sorts of book problems and statements for yourself, and take as little as possible on trust. The question came up one day, when discussing the groovesleft on the nails after fever, how long it took for the nails to grow out, from root to edge. A majorityof the class had no further interestg a few lookedit up in booksg two men marked their nails at the root with nitrate of silver, and a few months later had positive knowledge on the subject. They showed the proper spirit. The little points that come up in your reading try to test for yourselves. With one fundamental difficulty many of you will have to contend from the outset--a lack of proper preparation for really hard study. No one can have watched successive groups of young men pass through the special schools without profoundly regret- ing the haphazard, fragmentary character of their preliminary education. lt does seem too bad that we cannot have a student in his eighteenth year sufficiently grounded in the humanities and in the sciences preliminary to medicine--but this is an educational problem upon which onlya Milton or a Locke could discourse with profit. With pertinacity you can overcome the preliminary defects, and, once thoroughlyinterested, the work in books becomes a pastime. A serious draw- back in the student life is the self-conscious ness bred of too close devotion to books. A man gets shy, dysopic , as old Timothy Bright calls it, and shuns the looks of men, and blushes like a girl. The strength of a student of men is to travel--to study men, their habits, character, mode of life, their behaviour under varied conditions, their vices, virtues and pe- culiarities. Begin witha careful observation of your fellow students and of yourteachersg then, every patient you see is a lesson in much more than the malady from which he suffers. Mix as much as you possibly can with the outside world, and learn its ways. Culvtiate systematically, the social circle will enable you to conquer the diffidence so apt to go with bookishness, and which may prove a very serious drawback in after life. I cannot too strongly impress upon the earn- est and attentive men among you the neces- sity of overcoming this unfortunate failing in your student days. It is not easy for every- one to reach a happy medium, and the dis- tinction between a proper self-confidence and cheek , particularly injunior students, is not always to be made. The latter is met with chiefly among the student pilgrims who, in travelling down the Delectable Mountains, country of Conceit, the Country, in which you remember, the brisk lad, Ignorance, met Christian. Sir William Osler tThe Student Life! THE PATRIOT Hawk, hawk ye, hawkers! Oh! sell thy measly wares Look, look ye, gawkers! I'll hold thy cold, cold stares. Dance, dance ye, dancers, Thy raucous, reeling tune. Ride, ride ye, lancersg I'll have my laugh yet, soon. Pipe, pipe ye, pipers: Oh! pipe a long sad dirge. Build, build ye, builders! Ye hear my hearts-blood surge? Pary, pray ye, eldern, Oh! pray to your cold God! Come, come ye, hangman, I've a liking for the sod. Mourn, mourn ye, citizens, Oh! mourn throughout all Eire. Down, down ye, Englishmeng Ye've stripped my green land bare. Quick, quick ye, butcher! Oh! quickly tie thy knot. Laugh, laugh ye, teacher, So dies a patriot! my S. Snow is falling all around, Falling silent to the ground, Sent to earth by God's great hand To cover up a barren land. Even though it causes woe, To go out and shovel snow, We love to see a land so bright, That the Lord has painted white, t'l.B.

Page 108 text:

WALK IN THE FOG I walk slowly down the silent street and drag my feet through the piles of multi- coloured leaves discarded by the trees. I see nothing behind me, nothing before me and nothing on either side. All around me there seems to be a whiteness that my eyes cannot penetrate and have no will to see through. This is my friend: This is fog! It seems to swirl around me in tiny eddying pools and yet there is no breath of wind, I see no one, no one sees me. The fog is like an invisible cloak that envelopes me and hides me from the peering eyes of the world. Iwalk down the street with my head in the air and the fog caresses my face with its damp white fingers. I feel light. I start to float through the fog. I no longer feel the sidewalk beneath my feet. Higher, higher I go. The earth has ceased to pull me to itself and I rise up and away from terra firma. Then suddenly pain drags me back to my earthly existence and I place my crutches more carefully so thatiwill not place my en- tire weight upon my almost useless legs. I turn and go home. My walk in the fog has ended! STORM ON THE SEA It rolled and swelled and then a white Cap appeared. Faster and faster it came towards the shore and it flattened out and spread itself over my bare feet. Then the water excused itself and rolled back into an oncoming breaker. I looked up and saw where the grey and blue ended and the green began. A lonely gull flapped his way inland to find shelter from the oncoming storm, The blackening sky seemed to close in on the earth and the sea in a threatening manner and I felt the wind rise. It was no longer a playful breeze, but a fast angering monster as it whipped the sea into a white- capped frenzy. Thunder threw a frightening roar at me in an effort to force my retreat from this scene. The lightening flashed and the darkness following was deep and menacing. Again and again its jagged edge cut through the ever quickening darkness and revealed to me the muddled waves rushing towards the shore in a hope of refuge, only to be pulled back in by the undertow. There is a hopeless confusion of noise as the wind, the thunder and the sea try to out- roar one another. Soon the thunder, wind and lightening stopped their devilish play and left the sea to make peace within her own self. Anna Reko HEAR PAUL HANOVER'S TEENS CHOICE DAILY agoo A.M. 900 CHNll OIVIE Stephen Foster once wrote an immortal song, Home Sweet Home . Whydid he write it? Wasn't it because he longed for the joy and comfort of a home which he didn't have? What is Home ? The French call it 'la IVIaison'g the Latins call it 'domus'g and the Germans call it Heim'g but whateverway you say it, it means the same thing. Webster defines it as a place of rest and safety. That is what it is, but with much more added. Home is our first school and our first church. Home is where we learn what is right, what is good, and what is kind. It is the place, where, by example, we are taught to live truly Christian lives. It is the place where Mother and Father work together to bring us up in the fear and love of God.. It is the place, where prayer is as much a part of our daily lives, as our three meals a day. Home is where fathers and mothers are respected and loved, and where children are wanted. Where even the tea kettle sings for happiness--that is HOME--GOD BLESS IT.