Eastern High School of Commerce - Eastern Echo Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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TIT was a chilly night in December. HAUNTED Woons JEAN WEST, 3C The north wind howled and whistled through the trees. The snow and hail beat ruthlessly against the window of the cabin. Suddenly, the heavy silence was broken by the clatter of a horse's hoofs on the trail. It came to a sud- den stop snorting and clawing the ground impatiently. A young girl jumped from the horse's back, and ran up the steps where she stopped. Suddenly her body stiffened as she cocked her head into a listening attitude. E-E-e-e-! A muffled sound, but runmistakably a scream. Her hand flew to her throat and her eyes started. She listened. The sound wasn't repeated, suddenly she laughed. Imagination, she thought. The wind most likely. With a quick, deft movement she unlatched the door, opened it and stepped inside. THE DOOR SLAMMED BEHIND HER! She jumped and sprang back towards it. Somewhere an owl was screeching, then a SCREAM. E-E-e-el The girl jumped again, she swung around from the doorg a hideous face confronted her. E-E-e-el Another blood-curdling scream rang out. The girl went into action. Her hand flew up, and her whip went hurtling at the face. But it grinned calmly on. Nearer and Fo r+y-+wo nearer, its contorted features in turn twisted, grinning and glaring. I awoke with a scream. Someone spoke to me. Was it the face? I was too scared to open my eyes. Slowly I opened them. THANK GOODNESS, ONLY A DREAM! 'kti' MOTOR INTELLIGENCE JOHN FITZGIBBON. 4GI A FRIEND has a rather strange be- lief in the Divine Right of Motorists . He called for me one morning and asked me to join him in trying out a new Abadaba roadster. Much against my better judgment, I joined him. We had got no farther than the first intersection, when we ran foul of a perfectly law-abiding citizen, who was attempting to make his way across the street. My friend decided that the citizen had no- right to cross in front of him, and so with a blast of his horn that must have nearly caused the buildings to wilt, cut in front of the man and passed him at a terrific speed. I still maintain that the poor man was a cross between a kangaroo and a barrel-jumper, for when I looked around, through divine Providence, he was still on his feet. The last I saw of him he was shaking his clenched fist after us-his equilibrium, dignity and peace of mind upset for the rest of the day. My friend turned to me and spoke in all earnestness, I often wonder that more people aren't killed while crossing intersec- tions the way some of them do. You are more right in that state- ment, John, than you will ever know, I replied. Before that ride was over, I firmly resolved to see if something could not be done to find homes for Perturbed Pedestriansn, and Friends of Nit- Wit Drivers . EASTERN ECHO

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EASTERN E WINNERS H. Fullerton, H. Lembke, M. Romm, I. Lembke, A. Jones. A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY HENRY J. WORTHINGTON was happy. At last he had found a mission in life. He would care for the little birds that flew into his garden. A stranger, looking into Henry's ordinarily tidy garden, quite inno- cently asked if there had been an earthquake around those parts. What had originally been rows of neatly kept flower-beds, now resembled mini- ature golf courses, and in the centre, defying all the laws of beauty, stood one of those stone monsters, a large and immovable bird-bath. He talked, wrote and studied birds. until he seemed to resemble one im- mense robin and people seeing him in the distance, fled lest they should be obliged to listen to a monologue on birds. No use to argue with him that they were as nature made them, pesky little things designed to torment man in his efforts to reap what he had sown. As far as Henry was concerned, All went merry as the marriage EASTERN ECHO bell, until he was persuaded into fol- lowing a second hobby--Flowers. No sooner did he plant a line of seeds than swarms of sparrows would alight and commence excavations. Neverthe- less, he persevered, and was finally rewarded with some very fine speci- mens of flowers which he intended to enter in the Flower Show. He still called sparrows by atrocious names. however, and they were still the means of afiiicting his long-suffering flower friends. Tl1e climax came one fine morning when lIenry's pyjama-clad figure illi- peared at the door in time to see a plump little Sparrow pulling at the re- maining bloom of his carefully-raised plants. He let out a war-whoop, and re- gardless of conventions, bounded into the garden, and picking up the near- est implement, threw it at the offen- der, at the same time calling it by its rightful name. He is now normal. Forty-one

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DREAMS ADA JONES, 4S2 A DREAM is something in the land of imagination, a hope that is realized, a desire that has become a reality. This may be true, but when one sees himself as a monkey, perched on a tree, it is a state of being that is far beyond a hope or desire. In dreams a burglar takes the form of an heroic person, not a villain. A hero, for, when he is very tall, he politely waits while you mount a chair to strike him on the head with a vase. A tiger is something that purrs, and also meows. A lion is a docile kitten. One's sister is a cannibal. In her hand she holds a long, wicked-looking spear. We take the spear away from her. Queer, she offers no resistance! Could one fully realize what this world would be if all dreams came true? He would walk down the street on his hands. He would eat straw for shredded wheat. His friends would be goblins or fairies. He would swim the English Channel in preference to taking the boat-trip. He would spread spiders and worms on bread if the jam-jar were empty. I may now revise a former state- ment. Bow the head low and be thankful that all dreams do not come true. A dream is not always a hope or desire that has become a reality. If any still believe that statement, what queer person's secret hope or desire is eating worms? FRCST MARY O'HAGAN, 3C Frost has come creeping 'round us now To freeze our hands, to chill our brow. To send us scurrying on our way Lest we should stop, or turn away From his cold touch. His cold, cruel breath has turned to red Our cheeks of pink or marble hue. As if by some magic spell he led Our frozen and weary bodies through Old winter's door. 'kit THE SPELLING TEST JAMES MILNE, IE The minutes quickly pass away, This spelling is no jest. I wish I'd studied yesterday, You see this is a test. The sweat of pain is on my brow. Alas! What agony! How in the world can people spell? Oh dear! What can it be? I dip my pen into the ink, And grasp my paper tight. But, oh, how hard it is to think Of how to spell it right! V il 5 K F xv 'Rf' xxx 'N f fig' T, ,. I., , A i 1 I Agassi-gf f 1' ' 'wxfli cess. I 1 T- -- ' ' 'Q -is. ,QQQ-f it -,- .1-r,L1--...I -rg . EASTERN ECHO ,-, ...- Forty-three