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

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LIGHT IN DARKNESS Mabel Fraser, 356 U 'M going to leave Winthrop, Bob, was the startling announcement made by Dr. Grant as he entered Bob Willard's office. Anne must have her chance at College, and with all she needs, I couldn't afford it on the salary I earn here. But Grant, you can't leave! You're the best doctor we-what's that Billy? Come quickly, gasped a boy, burst' Theres been an ing into the office. explosion at the mine! Snatching his satehel from the desk, Dr. Grant rushed after Willard, and in the doctor's runabout, they sped through the town. As the car stopped, the two men rushed toward the pit entrance. Not very serious, Mr. Willard, called a burly miner from the shaft en' trance. All are out except young joe Nelson. Got his hand caught under a piece of falling coal. Must weigh a ton, and we can't budge it an inch. This looks like work for you, Grant, said Willard. Entering the cage they descended to the lowest level. Boarding the small train, they rode through the dark tunnels. At last it stopped before a narrow pas' sage. Several feet away flickered the dim light of miners' lamps. They hurf ried to where several miners were try' ing to roll a huge piece of coal from the still figure of a young man. He was just a boy, and lines of pain were visible under the grime of his drawn face. Are you positive there's no way of moving this? said the doctor placing his hand on the huge rock. No, the space is too small for any machinery, and besides the rock about here is pretty loose. It would fall at the slightest jar and bury the poor boy. Then I must amputate those fingers. They are probably so badly crushed that it would be necessary to amputate them, even if we could release him. But Grant, protested Willard, how can you operate in this small, dark, dirty space? EASTERN ECHO I must, replied Dr. Grant, quietly. Hold the lamps where they will throw the best light, he instructed. After administering an anaesthetic, the doctor squeezed into the small space beside the boy. Lying on his back and staring up at the black rocks hanging dangerously above and threatening to fall at any moment, he started the operf ation. Never will those men forget that scene. From the start of the operation to the time when they lifted the unconscious lad to the train, there was no sound exf cept the low commands uttered by the patient doctor. Two weeks later was a holiday in the town of Winthrop. Dr. Grant was pref sented with the Carnegie Medal and a sum of money as a reward for his bravf ery. The proudest person that day was Anne, his daughter, who was to enter College next week. Well, I'll stay at Winthrop after all, Bob, said Dr. Grant after the ceremonf ies as the two men sat in Bob Willard's little office. Yes, your future here is assured now, replied Willard, smiling happily. BIG BUSINESS-DESPOT? Vimy Carmichael, SS ERHAPS the most striking differ' ence between the presentfday civil' ization and that of a century ago is the tremendous increase and amazing change that has taken place in the everyday business of life. Where once life flowed smoothly, placidly, pleasantly, leisurely along, we now have the rush and hustle, the hectic hurry and flustered haste, the flashing speed of the modern metropolis. whitefhaired patriarch Where once the held court before the peaceful village inn of a slumbering, lazilyfcontented com' munity, now the leonine head of Big Business rears itself above the multitude. The steel hands of the newlyfcrowned king beckon in all directionseeelike mag' netic talons irresistibly drawing towards them all the clanging, crashing, roaring lContinued on page 922 Sixty-seven

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He'll come through, he finished with a return of his former spirits. April 24th is tofday, murmured the Doctor. Across No Man's Land crept a line of khakifclad figures. At intervals, bursting shells flared up, illuminating the ghastly scene. A whining note followed by a deafening explosion, the landscape bathed in an unearthly light, a figure totters, stumbles forward again, staggers, and then slowly crumbles to the earth to lie still. WAR WEDDING Dorothy Knights, 381 T was all like a bad dream to Nina: one day Michael and she walking down the aisle to the strains of the Wed' ding March, and the next Michael off to war amid shouting and cheering. Michael had not wanted to be married after he found out that he was to leave for France so soon. He said he might never come back--but Nina had insisted. She could see it now-the hurried little wedding in the Church Around The Corner, her in her silky, white gown and Michael in his straight black suit with his bronzed face and brown hair. They had not even time for their carefullyfplanned honeymoon. In a short day it was all over and Michael was gone-s-to France and War! He had been gone six months now, and it wasca month since she had heard from him. She was sure he was woundf ed. He did not usually miss writing her each week, but now a month had passed. Nina waited five long months and still no word came from Michael. She was certain now that he was either dead or badly wounded-surely he would have written if he were safe. Then one day calls were sent out for volunteer nurses. Nina was a good nurse, she would go to Franceg she would be near Michael then. The next few months were ones of hard labour for her. Each new group of wounded soldiers brought to the hosf pital she scanned searchingly, but always with the same result: there was no brownf S ixty-six haired, bronzedffaced Michael-there was not -even any one who looked like him. Her thoughts were always of him, wondering where he was and if he were alive. Sometimes she thought she could stand it no longer, soldiers dying every minute of the day, guns never ceasing to fire, bombs breaking around the hospital, lighting up the dingy rooms for a moment and then leaving them dark again. Then one night a new group of wounded was brought in from the field. Nina scanned their faces as usual. She did it mechanically now-she was so used to it, it seemed like a part of her clay's work. Her eyes rested on one face-a bronzed face. She could not see the eyes as they were bandaged, but it was Michael. Uh Michael! She ran to him half dazed. She had him moved to a bed and then knelt down beside him. She took his hand. Oh Michael, I have found you at last! He turned his head and started to rise, but she pushed him back gently. It's Nina, she murmured. Nina? I am in Heaven. Nina is with me. I am happy now, he said. 'lNo, no Michael, you are not in Heaven. You are here, in the hospital with me. You are badly wounded, but you are going to get well, then we shall go back to England together. Michael, however, did not get well and did not go back to England with Nina. He died a few hours later, but Nina was happy. She had found him at last! .A f TRESS wt' ly 'lil U- 'Q EASTERN ECHO

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WHAT IS POETRY Lenore Hague, 3S2 OETRY is a metrical composition produced by creative imagination. Homer, the father of poetry, moulded his ideals into epics. An heroic poem stimulates emotions and lifts your spirit from daily cares. Your mind is carried into the battle and you are living with the hero, the moment of danger and the joys of victory. Your feelings may be aroused by a ballad in which a simple poem of life, love, or war is written. In The Chesapeake and the Shannon you enjoy the liveliness of the short story put into verse. Poetry brings a feeling of restfulness to the reader. In the Sonnet Composed Upon Westminster Bridge you can picf ture that great city, London, sleeping in the early morningg you can feel the peacefulness pervading the air. Perhaps the description is of such a simple thing as a brook and yet you are impressed by the artistic arrangement. Tennyson depicts the beauty of one of the gifts of nature in The Brook. Out of the picture portrayed for you in words you can see the sunbeams dancing on the water in the morning and the brook flowing on until evening. Then, bef neath the moon and stars the water ripf ples like molten silver. .Who could fail to be impressed by its utter beauty? The writer may express his feelings in a lyric and the poet's joy or sorrow leaps into your heart. In When That I Was and a Little Tiny Boy from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night you catch the poet's passing fancy from the carefree, little boy to the disillusioned man. Poetry suits all your moods. Each poet has his own style of writing and the topics are varied. WHY STUDY DEBATING? Leonard Mason, 4G2 HEN the subject of debating arises, a steadily diminishing minority still maintain that it is not esf sential for the average student in High Schools, that it is only profitable to lawyers, politicians or lecturers. These people are greatly misinformed for they underfestimate the wonderful opportunity for development that is off fered by the art of debating. Debating is an art, in that it develops great skill in oral expression and the ability to think quickly and accurately. These qualities are needed by every individual who, at some time or other, may influence others and bring them to see his point of view. Debating in school makes the pupils not only selffreliant and proficient, in oral speech but also in the ability to see through a difficult problem and to be able to reason correctly and logically. Many debaters in their formal speeches strive only to show their superior cleverf ness or mastery of eloquence over their opponentsg this is not the true purpose of debating but rather is it to create the skill in persuading others to see your side of the subject. lt has been proved that by rigid disf cipline and hard training, persons of little debating promise can become very proficient debaters. Debating tends to develop an extensive vocabulary, a fam- ous statistician shows that one who has at his disposal a great number of words has usually attained success or nearfsucf cess, for he can express his thoughts more clearly both to himself and to others and so may rise to leadership among his fellowfmen. If this is true, why not study debating in High Schools to a greater degree than we are doing tofday? l Sixty-eight EASTERN ECHO