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

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accident. he is found to have tattooed on the nail of his big toe an emblem which entitles him to become heir of an earldom, and a large estate. which is invariably in England. Owing to his nurse dropping him down a hatchway in London, he was given up for good, and sailed away to America, where he became king of his special alley. A sub-division of this is the bad hero. who does everything imaginable to get in the juvenile court. Finally someone appeals to his manhood. and he grows up to be bank president, marries the girl whose hair he used to pull in school, and lives to refiect on his past life in amaze- ment. The second figure is the young, energetic, know-all detective. Quietly he makes his rounds, despite all the snubs of the com- manding officerenearly always a sergeant- until. in the last chapter, bleeding in ten places. he relates the amazing tale of how he escaped from the burning building, cut himself loose with a piece of tin, and captur- ed the band of twenty single-handed with a revolver made of tar soap. Third comes the rich old uncle, who will do nothing to help the destitute grandson or nephew. Forcefully he tells him to depart from the house, and never cast his shadow across the door-step again. When the young relative saves the family fortunes by sell- ing out stock, or by frustrating an attempt to rob the old gentlemen of his corn plasters, he is taken into the now warm bosom of the family. Next, and fourth, is the Public Enemy No. 1, the landlord or the holder of the mortgage. In vain does the erstwhile proud family plead for more time. Never! The villain is firm. The money he must have or the house, At the very moment the tearful family are vacating. up pops the hero, who had gone out into the world to make his fortune, and tells the villain where to get off at. Ha! Foiled againfl says he, and vows revenge. Luckily he is killed in tinie. and so does no more damage. To omit the Gentleman Jack of fiction incomplete. Broad- men who steal for it away, abound in would make this list hearted. kindly, loving the mere joy of giving story books, but I doubt, in life. Gentle- man jackf' 'tRaftles , or whatever his name might be, makes his scoops with monstrous daring. He must be a ventriloquist, a boxer, an expert at the art of ju-jutsu, a good rider, Sixty a wonderful conversationalist, and must pos- sess a quick finger on the trigger. The day after a typical f'haul he makes the rounds of the slums, dressed in immaculate evening clothes, and showers his gifts on the poor. He continues this life until he falls in love, when the girl undertakes to reform him. She succeeds, and the poor proceed to starve because of the discontinued gifts. My comment on staple figures in fiction seems to lean to satire. and one would think fiction was my greatest bugbear. That is not so, for I enjoy fiction, These are just my opinions on characters who abound in the average book. SPRING Soft whisperings of waking life, .41 rnurrnzzr tells of br0ole's won strife .-fgainst the grip of lVinter's chain, For Spring has come to tmwz again. There is some sulrtle, vital thing, .Aflront the quiet approach of Spring. It comes upon us unaware .-Ind fragrance fills the moist, tuarrn air. Where once did lie a patch nj snow, ll'e see the dainty Crocus grow, .alll pink and gold or ros' and white, lfI'as there ever such a splendid sight? I hear the whistling meadow-lark .ind listening, just lrefore 'tis dark, I hear the robin say, Good nighif 1'n1 weary after my long flightf' I wake with the glad burst of dawn .-ind hear the lrluelrird on the lawn, Wake np! wake np. ' he seems to sing Wake up! be glad! for it is Spring. KATHLEEN XYILSON, ZG. THE SUN GOD'S LAST GESTURE ROBERT STREET, IF On the edge of the great sea stand a score of Eskimos, gazing intently at the sun. The great God is about to make his departure. His rays will not light the Arctic for seven long months. fC07liilZNt'd on page 01.3 EASTERN ECHO

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Poor Wee Nlousie ' ' Our house at Royal Oak was the kind one reads about in books described as Ha rambling old place covered with ivy . On each side was a wide field of tall grass wherein dwelt many tiny field mice. The little creatures were very friendly and often slipped in our side door for a little visit, regardless of the danger lurking there in the shape of two large cats. and hidden traps with tempting morsels of delicious cheese destined to ruin many a mouse. One night when I lay in bed thinking happened that day, which about what had had been Easter, I heard a peculiar scratch- ing coming from the corner near the foot of I turned on the bed light my bed. Quietly and fixed my eyes on my gaily painted waste-paper basket in fascination. Running around the top as if being chased by a cat, was a tiny baby field mouse. It looked harm- less enough, but I must confess that a mouse of any shape or size makes me shiver. No, I did not scream. Curiosity got the better of me and silently I Watched the strange antics of that small rodent. When it by BIARYBELLE IXIULLAN, ZH stopped. its small body quivered and jerked continually to balance itself on the narrow ledge of the basket. Piercing dark eyes darted alertly about the room. I held my breath when the eager eyes scanned me, but they didnt seem to realize I was not just another piece of furniture. Then it peered down into the darkness below. from whence came tempting smells at which a tiny nose wiggled with delightful anticipation. At last I understood what this venture- some small creature wanted in the privacy of my bedroom. In the basket were some half- demolished jelly beans and several egg shells. and that poor wee mouse was so hungry he disobeyed his stern mother's warnings and let his stomach lead him into danger. He kept up his little game of running, stopping for breath and running again until I was in a bad state of dizziness, even if the mouse was not. Suddenly I gave the bed a shake. The mouse looked startled and fled. The next morning a baby mouse was caught in the trap outside my door. Stock Figures in Fiction f f by ELs1E HILL, ZH To read. is to observe, and one cannot read an average of one book a week with- out observing that stock figures in fiction are not scarce. There are several of these popular CPD heroes or heroines, who have no doubt existed so long for no other reason than that they fit well into the story, and, with a different name tagged on. pre- sent a very interesting subject for a few hoursl reading, to make the book a little longer. Some person once observed that f'The Bible or Shakespeare was the beginning of fiction . Whichever it was, we can blame our choice for giving us such characters as are common to-day. The first stock figure EASTERN ECHO -and the most common-in my opinion would be the typical hero or heroine. This particular main character will continue to labour under great odds, with everyone turn- ed against him as a result of being accused of murdering the wealthy matron's tom-cat. or of not removing his hat in the elevator, until he reaches the final climax by resetting the mayors daughter-or the presidents, which is even bettereand being restored to his original position as chief buttonhole maker, By then the author mercifully decides to withdraw, and leaves the hero to his ulti- mate happiness. Sometimes the story is varied, and the hero is a thoroughly insignificant, ragged, unaspiring urchin, until one day, by Fifty-nine

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Q 1 flflil' lf MX fAkClV2l'ltUl'e O , S by M.xRct'i:R1TE EIDE. ZH tfunior Story, First Awardj I suppose all of us have had at one time or another the pleasure t?J of minding a baby. But I think I can say without contra- diction that the baby I looked after on this particular afternoon was the worst little bun- dle of humanity that ever anyone had any- thing to do with. Baby Elsie was the possession of a lady, who. up until this time, was a great friend of mine, and for this reason she had entrusted her precious lamb to my care while she went shopping. I will admit that I was a decided amateur at this task and optimistically looked for- ward to spending a pleasant afternoon with a sweetly dispositioned baby who would do nothing but sleep, leaving me to read in peace. Alas! for my unfulfilled hopes. When the baby arrived I sat her on a cush- ion placed on the floor with some of my younger sisters toys to amuse her. She was older than I expected and could walk quite well. Seeing that she looked fairly contented, and after watching her amusing antics for a while. I returned to my book and was soon lost in the pages of an exciting novel. The baby' meantime was amusing herself in her own delightful little way. I Mother had bought a small pail of lard the day before. and, having used a small portion of it, 'the lid had been placed on very in- securely. When I missed the baby some fif- teen minutes later and went to find her, there she sat on the kitchen linoleum, plastering her hair, clothing, the furniture and floor with EASTERN ECHO the contents of the pail. all the while emits ting delightful little chuckles of joy. You can imagine with some accuracy my unuttered thoughts. Well, I gave the baby a bath, washed her hair and put on her some clean clothes- relics of my younger days, Then I cleaned up the mess she had made in the kitchen. I then went down cellar and unearthed my old high- chair. dusted it off and sat her severely in it with some of the toys to keep her amused. She cried. Howl after howl rent the air. until I thought my ear drums would surely split. She threw all the toys at me, and I must say that her aim was fairly good. I was forced at last in self defence to put her in her old position on the floor. where, under my watch- ful eye. she played quietly for a time. My watchfulness relaxed after a while and I returned to my book. Elsie then returned to lm' occupations. I'pstairs she went. crawling on her hands and knees and obtaining some help from the friendly bannisters. Into my bedroom she found her way. She pulled wider the already half-opened drawers tl had been in a hurry that morningl and began flinging my clothes about the bedroom. Then she obtained my powder box from the top of the dressing table. Opening it, she spread the contents liberally over my scattered raiment. especially my black serge skirt. How the powder was re- moved from that, only the cleaner knows. Opening my lipstick she made pitty marks , as she called them. all over the silk bedspread. Oh what a mess she made! Then having learned the use of the bathtub, she put in Sixty-one