Glebe Collegiate Institute - Lux Glebana Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

Page 16 text:

The Punster by Eric Smith NCE UPON a time Qfor all good stories begin once upon a time J there lived an old, wrinkled, poverty- stricken shiek. The angels must have been in a hurry when they made him because, in the opinion of his acquaintances he was sadly lacking in brains. His one claim on posterity was that he could make the worst puns ever heard by man. This terrible weakness on his part did his rug business more harm than good until, one day, 'there came into his musty little shop, a socialite. Her very Christian-like desire to give away her money brought about a world catastrophe, as history books of the twenty-first century show. As was his custom, the shiek reeled off his sales-talk to his customer, sprinkling it atrociously with some of his vilest puns. The socialite was enchanted. She promised to send in some of her friends to hear some more of the old reptile's jokes. Lady Luck must have smiled maliciously then. In the following few months, the shiek's puns grew into a fad. Within six months they were a mania. At the end of a year they were a diseaseg at the end of eighteen months of horror they were a public menace. People like Mr. Thoms who held forth that puns were the lowest form of humour, jumped off bridges and out of windows in droves. People whose nerves were very sensitive committed suicide at the mere mention of the shiek's name. In Chicago, the police used puns as a super third degree. In Germany, Adolf Hitler continued from page 18 style, stabbing with pointed towers at the sky overhead. Artists, poets, authors, play- wrights, all have tried to capture, in their works, the feeling that this castle of Glamis has instilled in their souls. Its very aspect shows the Scottish spirit that has helped build the British Empire to the wonderful thing it is to-day, that has helped give the Flag and Throne their glorious traditions of justice and free thinking. Thus, in this stately castle, have been born and reared, through six centuries, the descendents of John Lyon, until, in the 20th century, one of its most charming daughters has become our gracious Queen Elizabeth. Page 1 4 was torn to pieces by a mob he had driven to. desperation by a pun about Jews. It might be interesting to note that a gentle- man by the name of Cohen was elected in his place on a no-pun platform. The word pun was unanimously outlawed by members of the Acadamie Francaise. Some- thing approaching a universal crisis was imminent. Mr. Roosevelt made dozens of speeches about good neighbours and wrote hundreds of notes. Mr. Mackenzie King retired to his summer-house up the Gatineau. Stolid Englishmen began to dig holes in Hyde Park again. As a last resort Mr. Neville Chamberlain Iiew over to see the shiek. He returned a bewildered, nerve-wracked image of himself. In an emergency meeting of the Cabinet it was decided that the shiek must hang by the neck 'till he was dead, dead, dead. Peace suddenly settled upon a pun- harassed world. In a secluded spot in the Sahara Desert, however, a detachment of the Coldstream Guards was slowly breaking under the constant barrage of puns from their prisoner, the shiek. All too slowly for them the day of the hanging drew near. Then, with a unanimous sigh of relief, the surviving members of the Guards saw the sun rise upon Der Tag. Joyfully they led out the shiek, dusted off the scaffold and oiled the hinges of the trap-door. But wait! Over the horizon a. cloud of dust appears. It sweeps nearer, nearer still. Now the waiting Guards can make out a messenger from the telegraph office. His bicycle skids to a stop before the com- manding ofiicer. A telegram changes hands. The C. 0.'s face turns a corpse-like white, his hands shake, his lips quiver, even his ears contribute to the unsoldierly show of agitation by drooping slightly. In the midst of a silence so heavy as to make one breathless, he turns to the shiek and croaks: You will be granted a pardon if you promise to never again make a pun. The shiek raised his head, looked about him, and then, with a Satanic glint in his eye, said, No noose is good news, and was hanged forthwith. 4120134 A physics student Went to Mr. Merkley to borrow a storage battery. What are you going to use it for? Mr. Merkley asked. To put in our cow and make the horns blow. replied the other. LUX GLEBANA

Page 15 text:

-ie LITERARY ..------ - 1 Edited by , M.WALLINGFORD E. RETTIE, I. MCPHEE E.TILLEY Glamis Castle by t Allan Jenkins N FORFARSHIRE, Scotland, stands the ancient castle of Glamis, se-at of the Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne. Glamis has had its place' in history from the 11th century right up to the present day. As the ancestral home of Elizabeth, our Queen, this castle should be of more than passing interest to Britishersg so, here is presented a brief pen sketch of famous Glamis. First of the line of Stuart Kings, Robert II, crowned at Scone in March 1371, be- stowed the Hanedone of Glamis on his son- in-law, John Lyon, soon after his coronation. The family of Lyon has had possession of Glamis Castle ever since. The name Glamis originated from the Gaelic word glambus, meaning a vale or wide gap. Throughout the centuries it has chang- ed, until, in the 17th century, it assumed its present form. , The English poet, Gray, in his tour of the--Highlands in 1765, stopped at Glamis Castle and, whilst there, wrote a letter to his friend, Dr. Wharton. I quote a part of his letter: We saw rising proudly out of what seems a great ,and thick wood of tall trees, the castle with ac cluster of hanging towers at the top, you descend to it gradually from the South, through a double and triple avenue of Scotch Hrs sixty or seventy feet, high, under three gateways. The enclosures that surround the house are bordered with three or four ranks of- sycamores, ashes, and white poplars of the noblest height and from seventy to a hundred years old. . '. . The third gate delivers you into a court with a broad pavement, and grass plots adorned with statues of the four Stuart Kings, bordered with old silver firs and yew trees alternately, and opening with iron palisade on either side to two square old- LUX GLEBANA: fashioned parterres .... The house from the height of it, the greatness of its mass, the many towers atop, and the spread of its wings, has really a very singular and striking appearance, like nothing I ever saw. The original structure was built in the 11th century in the Scottish baronial style. As the years went by, additions were made 3 little towers, of the French chateau type of the Louis XIV period, have added a fascinating touch to the heavy. feudal lines of the castle. In 1605, Lord Patrick Glamis had a circular stair-tower built to replace the narrow, dangerously uneven set of stairs that led to the upper stories. After the 17th century the castle had few changes made to it. Many writers, impressed with what they saw, have written stories and articles con- cerning Glamis. Two of the most out- standing are William Shakespeare in his Macbeth, and Sir Walter Scott, who, having spent a night in Glamis, writes of his ex- periences in Demonology and Witchcraft. Shakespeare put into the mouths of his characters, the thought and beauty of Glamisg entwined in the ghostliness - and horror of M acbetk. From Act 1, Scene VI, we have the speeches between Duncan and Banquoz- c DUN.. This castle hath a pleasant seat: the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BAN. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath , V - - Smells wooingly here: no jutty frieze, but- tress, s Nor coign of vantage, but this bird hath made . . His ,pendant bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd - Q The air is delicate. 1 . Picture to yourself this sturdy pile of time-mellowed, pinkish-coloured gray stone 3 surrounded by mystery and tradition, its heavy architecture, suddenly deserting its Page 13

Page 17 text:

Writing forthe Lux b Gwe1ilMorton UESS it's about time I started that story for the Lux. Jim Weld says he wants everything in by next week. Suppose I should have written it during the holidays. Meant to, but never get the urge until the eleventh hour. Oh well, it won't take long to rattle off a few words. I wonder why I've never tried before? If I couldn't do better than some of the junk they published last year. . . ! Gee, what a mess my desk's in! There's no sense starting until I clear some room. Mother's always saying if Iweren't so lazy and would tidy up I'd work twice as well. I don't want to have things distracting me in the middle of my story. Story? Might as well send in two or three contributions! Limericks are a cinch and aesthetic poetry is just a lot of pretty words. This is my last year at Glebe QI hopeb and I sure would like to see my name in print a few times. That's why most people do it anyway. Either that or else to see their brain-child taking a public bow. Well, what do'yuh know! There's my chemistry stencil! Thought it must have got thrown out. And to think I bought a new one. I'll swear it wasn't here when I was looking for it. There must be haunts in the house. Nothing ever stays where I put it and then it pops up in a drawer that I absolutely turned out in the search. Funny that mother can always find things. Right under your nose, she says. Can she be in league with the ghosts? Chemistry stencil, dictionary, bottle of ink, piece of Kleenex, hair-pin, coloured pencils, German books, calendar, song sheet, erasers, blotters, pins, red ink, pair of pliers. Why does everything have to be dumped on my desk? Eligibility card, ruler, diary. Diary. Mmm. Mustn't for- get to write in it today. I'm a couple of weeks behind. I wonder what I was doing a year ago? If I can find last year's diary -in the desk somewhere. Nope. Bookcase? Cupboard? Dressing-table? It must be in the desk. And it is. Now why wasn't it there the first time? Oh, well. Let's see. January, February. Here we are. The Latin exam was hard, but as I had only covered two ,hundred out of six hundred lines, anythingi wouldfiiiave stumpedhme.. As for the fourth form Germaniaut ors, LUX GLEBANA words fail mellltzwas without doubtzthe worst exam I ever wrote. Not exactly cheerful. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. There! All set and ready for Work. Should I write in pencil or ink? I remember reading somewhere that Mary Roberts Rinehart writes in pencil on yellow paper- easier on the eyes. Haven't any yellow paper though. Anyway, she's old and probably has poor eyesight. The first thing is a title. Choose a good title and make your story to fit it, I always say. The thing is to get one that catches the reader's eye, like The Crimson Toe- nail or Victim Number Four. But perhaps that's too vigorous for the Lux. Broken Butterfly and Eternal Love don't seem to be just the thing either. Something about the school perhaps. The Bell Rings! Why I dropped Latin. School Spirit. As Mischa Auer says, Confidentially, it stinks. Every kid in the school has had to write on one of those in composition class. This isn't quite as easy as I thought- Caramba! I've got a honey of an idea! Glebe student falls asleep in lab where he is catching up on experiments he missed. He wakes to find the school full of activity -the various personages and characters of fact and fiction come to life. Coming out of Room 203 he sees-wait a minute! This is going a little bit too smoothly. Haven't I read something of the sort somewhere, sometime? Quick, where's last year's school magazine? Boy's athletics. Travelogues. Too far back. Literary. Omigosh! For Fifth Formers Only -someone has already done it. The so-and-so. If he hadn't thought of it, I would have. Wonder what time it is? I can hear Dad coming in now. Today's Friday and he'll have Life with him. Guess I'll go down and get it before someone snaffies it. I'll write a poem or something after dinner- Plf PF F14 f'H TM 1 ,731 'tg' Xe K , Page 15